item
stringlengths 7
8
| class
stringclasses 11
values | report
stringlengths 440
217k
|
|---|---|---|
SCP-8148 | thaumiel | NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION This version of the article is dated 6/17/1952 and is outdated. Information in this article may be inaccurate and in certain cases, false. Proceed with caution. — RAISA 4/8148 LEVEL 4/8148 CLASSIFIED Item #: SCP-8148 Special Containment Procedures: Foundation security at all Temporary Object-Holding Sites are to be informed of SCP-8148’s alias and appearance. Security is to detain and amnesticize any SCP-8148 instances and store it on site until the conclusion of its according SCP-8148-1 event. Security is permitted to terminate SCP-8148 if it is uncooperative. Once the corresponding SCP-8148-1 event has concluded, the SCP-8148 instance is to be relocated to a permanent humanoid holding cell and is to be contained until SCP-8148 demanifests. Description: SCP-8148 is a 180.34 cm tall Type Blue 27-year-old caucasian male who refers to itself as “Doctor Silvian King.” SCP-8148 believes itself to be a Foundation Researcher of thaumatology.1 No Foundation employee has been taught thaumatology due to its anomalous nature. There is also no record of the Foundation employing a "Doctor Silvian King" at any point in its history. Despite SCP-8148 visibly aging while in containment, it always remanifests at 27 years old. SCP-8148’s anomalous effect appears when a Temporary Object-Holding Site contains at least 1 temporary dormitory. Appearing to be asleep, at exactly 00:00, SCP-8148 may manifest inside the bed of an empty temporary dormitory. The likelihood of an SCP-8148 instance manifesting increases with the number of SCP objects and D-Class stored at the site. SCP-8148 will wake up at 08:00, and, during the day, will usually attempt to aid staff in their activities. SCP-8148 shows varying degrees of knowledge in the task it attempts to assist in. Its behavior is also highly dependent on manifestation. SCP-8148 has reacted to staff in a variety of ways ranging from complete obedience to orders given to it, to disregarding staff and acting outwardly violent towards them. On rare occasions, SCP-8148 has attempted to break into on-site armories. SCP-8148 will stay manifested until its anomalous effects trigger again, at which point it will demanifest and a new manifestation of SCP-8148 will appear. This effect persists after death. Within 24 hours after the manifestation of SCP-8148, SCP-8148-1 will occur. SCP-8148-1 is the breach of containment at the site where SCP-8148 manifested. SCP-8148-1 has been observed containing several different types of breaches, all of which are listed below: The breach of Keter Class anomalies. The breach of Euclid class anomalies. The invasion of the Site by an enemy GOI. The invasion of the Site by an anomaly. The escape attempt of D-Class Personnel. The manifestation of a new anomaly. SCP-8148 believes that it has survived all SCP-8148-1 instances it's interacted with. SCP-8148's behavior is inconsistent along with its memory of all the SCP-8148-1 events it has been involved with, commonly forgetting or referring to SCP-8148-1 events that not occurred. Addendum 8148.1-476: The following is a series of video logs from SCP-8148 manifestations. + Video log #18: 3/14/1953 - Access Granted VIDEO LOG DATE: 3/14/1953. NOTE: SCP-8148 manifested 2 days after the transfer of SCP-████ onto Temporary Object-Holding Site-12B. [BEGIN LOG] Footage retrieved from the cafeteria located on level 5. 16:04: SCP-8148 enters the cafeteria and sits next to Dr. Carlos Blacke. It and the doctor are seen talking to each other for 22 minutes as they eat. 16:26: An SCP-8148-1 event occurs and SCP-████ breaches containment. Alarms start blaring and both SCP-8148 and Dr. Carlos Blacke go to a Breach Shelter. Footage retrieved from the camera located in Hallway 5-12B. 16:32: Both SCP-8148 and Dr. Carlos Blacke arrive at BS:5-22. Footage retrieved from the camera located in BS:5-2. 16:36: On-site security stationed in the Shelter identify and detain SCP-8148. 18:43: MTF successfully recontain SCP-████ and retrieve SCP-8148. [END LOG] SCP-████ was safely relocated to Site-18. SCP-8148 was transferred to Site-02 and stayed there till its demanifestation 6 weeks later. Dr. Carlos Blacke was interviewed on his conversation with SCP-8148; and stated that he and it were talking about their favorite novels, with SCP-8148 naming several novels that do not exist.3 + Video log #72: 9/23/1979 - Access Granted VIDEO LOG DATE: 9/23/1959. NOTE: Due to several D-Class transfer requests from Site-19, Temporary Object-Holding Site-18B was acceding the recommended maximum capacity for D-Class stored on site. [BEGIN LOG] 11:00: A group of seven D-Class are returning to their cells, being escorted by two guards. 11:02: An SCP-8148-1 event occurs and, before reaching the cell block, three D-Class attack one of the guards while two others attack the second one. They manage to overpower and disarm the guards, shooting them. They proceed to break into the cell block, unlocking all cells in the process. All on-site security is called to deal with the situation. Footage retrieved from the camera located in hallway 2-6 11:06: SCP-8148 is seen walking down the hallway when two security guards intercept it. They tell SCP-8148 to retreat deeper into the facility. After 2 minutes of noncompliance from SCP-8148, the two guards identify SCP-8148 and attempt to detain it. SCP-8148 resists and attempts to take one of the guard's firearms. The second guard terminates SCP-8148 and both leave. [END LOG] All D-Class that contributed to the riot were terminated and incinerated. The 2 security guards that encountered SCP-8148 described that it was attempting to offer its help to resolve the breach. Once identified as an SCP-8148 instance, it became hostile, stating that its arrest was "unjustified" and "unimportant compared to the breach currently occurring." + Video log #194: 12/19/1998 - Access Granted VIDEO LOG DATE: 12/19/1998. NOTE: Security Officer Thomas Strider had been stationed at the nightshift at the Temporary Dormitories at Temporary Object-Holding Site-02. [BEGIN LOG] Footage retrieved from the camera located in the Temporary Dormitories hallway. 23:46: Security Officer Thomas Strider breaks into and enters Temporary Dormitory 16. Nothing occurs for 15 minutes. 00:01: The sounds of thuds and glass breaking are heard for a few seconds before 2 gunshots are heard. 00:03: SCP-8148, noticeably bleeding, exits Temporary Dormitory 16 with a Foundation Standard Issued handgun and starts walking down the hallway. Security intercepts SCP-8148 and terminates it. [END LOG] The corpse of Security Officer Thomas Strider was found inside Temporary Dormitory 16 with scorch marks across his body and a bullet in his head. A radio, a blueprint of the site, and several letters with symbols originating from The Chaos Insurgency were found. Several runes were drawn in blood and scratched into the walls around the room. Background checks on Security Officer Thomas Strider confirmed that he had never been hired by the Foundation. Investigations into how he was able to infiltrate security are ongoing. As of 12/7/2005 this page is outdated, access next page? Footnotes 1. Magic. 2. Breach Shelter: 5-2. 3. "Honestly, I'm surprised my encounter with it felt like just another conversation I'd have with an employee. If it didn't keep mentioning bizarre books like "Harry Potter," I wouldn't have suspected a thing." - Dr. Carlos Blacke. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8148" by Sly King, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8148. 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. |author=Sly King]] |
SCP-8150 | esoteric-class | Item#: 8150 Level4 Secondary Class: kusum Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: critical link to memo Item #: SCP-8150 SCP-8150-1 instance approaching Stratford, Texas in 1935 Special Containment Procedures: Due to the nature of SCP-8150, and the catastrophic failure of prior containment attempts, further efforts have been abandoned. Any deaths caused by SCP-8150 are to be reported as casualties of the publicly-accepted concept of "dust storms". research efforts are also postponed indefinitely, due to the high amounts of casualties taken during Incident SCP-8150-I. The publicly-perceived notion of the Dust Storm is to be upheld, as to avoid the true nature of SCP-8150 from being discovered. While containment efforts have been abandoned, damage control and evacuation efforts related to SCP-8150-1 instances are to be handled by MTF-Rho-10 "Dust Devils". Description: SCP-8150 is the collective name for the phenomena publicly known and accepted as "Dust Storms". In reality, "Dust storms" are an anomalous species of sentient storm systems, hereby referred to as SCP-8150-1. SCP-8150-1 instances vary widely in size, depending on the amount of Elan Vital Energy (EVE) absorbed. The largest documented SCP-8150-1 instance, publicly known as the "Black Sunday Storm" reached 800 miles long and 400 miles wide. The exact method and reasoning to how SCP-8150-1 instances form is unknown, as it is impossible to predict when and where they will, and there is a lack of living witnesses to SCP-8150-1 forming events. SCP-8150-1 instances "pull" the EVE out of an organism before dispersing it into its cloud. Fatalities from SCP-8150-1 instances can only be avoided by donning protective equipment with full CBRNA protection. A full log of notable SCP-8150 related incidents can be found below. Incident SCP-8150-A: Publicly known as the "Dust Bowl", a large uptick in SCP-8150-1 activity during the 1930s led to severe ecological devastation, along with over 7,000 dead. These included several Foundation researchers and agents, but consisted mostly of civilians. The largest of these instances was the Black Sunday storm, or SCP-8150-1C. The size of SCP-8150-1C was due to the amounts of EVE absorbed by it and its contributing storms. Over its lifespan, multiple people were killed, but due to the lack of Foundation resources at the time, containment efforts were not pursued. Incident SCP-8150-D: Publicly known as the "Great Bakersfield Dust Storm", in 1977 an SCP-8150-1 instance manifested near Bakersfield, California, before moving into the area to harvest EVE. In total, 25 people died, however Foundation agents were able to suppress the knowledge of 20 of these deaths, leaving the publicly accepted tally at 5. While not a particularly significant event, this incident directly lead to the founding of MTF-Rho-10. + Incident SCP-8150-F: - Close Log Overview: On November 29 1991, an SCP-8150-1 instance manifested around 43 miles north of Coalinga. Having received notification from US Government assets at Naval Air Station Leemore, and due to the storm's close and rapidly closing proximity to Interstate 5, MTF-Rho-10 was quickly scrambled and dispatched to attempt containment efforts. Incident SCP-8150-F Video Log Transcript Date: November 29, 1991 Exploration Team: MTF-Rho-10 "Dust Devils" Subject: SCP-8150 | Interstate 5, California, United States Team Lead: Lieutenant Arnold Holmes | R10-1 Team Members: Sergeant Amy Lawson | R10-2 Specialist Barry Keyestone | R10-3 Specialist Alexi Borodin | R10-4 [BEGIN LOG] Rho-10 exits utility vehicle at edge of Storm Lt Holmes: Alright, Dust Bunnies! Masks on, masks on! Team dons protective equipment. Lt Holmes: Alright! Alexi, you stay here, try and stop the flow of civvies into the storm. Spc Borodin: Sir. Spc Keyestone: Alright, LT! What's the play here? Lt Holmes: Get in, assess the size of a possible pile up, and try and rescue any civvies still in their cars. Sgt Lawson: Readings just came in off the kit! We have several distinct EVE signs in the cloud. At least 13 dead. Lt Holmes: Chirst, well we should get moving before it spikes up. Spc Keyestone: Roger that Dust Rabbit. Team proceeds further into SCP-8150-1 instance Sgt Lawson: Up ahead! We got a car. Shit, side windows open. Sgt Lawson moves around the side of the vehicle. Sgt Lawson: Yeah- we got a civvie in here. Dead, showing no residual EVE signs. Lt Holmes: Nothing we can do. Let's keep moving. [4 Minutes of extant audio and dialogue removed] Spc Borodin: Shit, Dust Rabbit! A car got through! Silver SUV, headed north! Lt Holmes: Alright, everyone off the road! We'll follow em when they pass! Spc Keyestone: Christ almighty, I can barely tell what is and isn't road! Lt Holmes and Spc Keyestone move off of the road. Due to low visibility, Sgt Lawson cannot determine her location. Lt Holmes: There's the car! Amy! Two! Get out of the road! Sgt Lawson: I can't tell where i'm- The vehicle hits Sgt Lawson. The impact breaches her CBRNA protection. SCP-8150-1 begins to enter her suit. Sgt Lawson: [Audible gasping] Lt Holmes: Barry! Stop that fucking car! I've got Amy! Spc Keyestone: Aye Sir! Lt Holmes: Fuck, Amy! Pop a flare, I can't fucking find you! Sgt Lawson: [Gasping increases in intensity] Spc Keyestone: Sir! I found the cars! We've got an enormous pileup here! Lt Holmes: Shit, alright, okay- you can secure the civs, I can handle her! Spc Keyestone: She's fucking dead, Holmes. Now unless you want these civilians dead too, I need your ass over here NOW! Lt Holmes: You- You're right. Lt Holmes moves to assist Spc Keyestone. [END LOG] After Action Report: After Rho-10 evacuated a total of 12 civilians from I-5, additional Foundation assets set up a perimeter to prevent further loss of life. After the SCP-8150-1 instance dissipated, Foundation S&R teams moved in to assess damage. A total of 104 cars had piled up, with 17 having died from collisions. A further 46 people had died from SCP-8150, including Sergeant Amy Lawson. Incident SCP-8150-H: On January 4th, 2002, an SCP-8150-1 instance manifested several miles west of Las Vegas, Nevada. MTF-Rho-10 was scrambled under personal orders from then Captain Arnold Holmes, and they successfully prevented the instance from growing by terminating wildlife in the area and preventing any civilian entry. Due to their professionalism and efficiency in this mission, Captain Holmes was promoted to Task Force command, with Lieutenant Barry Keyestone now taking command of Rho-10. Due to the lack of casualties, this incident was hidden from the public. + Incident SCP-8150-I: - Close Log Overview: On August 19th, 2021, a large SCP-8150-1 instance manifested dangerously close to the village of Makhunik, Iran. Due to the proximity to a population center, MTF-Rho-10 was immediately tasked with evacuating the populace, with assistance from MTF-Sigma-9 "Valkyries" and a Farsi translator from MTF-Epsilon-6 "Village Idiots". Members of MTF-Rho-10 during Incident SCP-8150-I. Exploration Video Log Transcript Date: January 4th, 2021 Exploration Team: MTF-Rho-10 "Dust Devils" Supporting Personnel: MTF-Sigma-9 "Valkyries", MTF-Epsilon-6 "Village Idiots" Subject: SCP-8150 | Makhunik, Iran Team Lead: Lieutenant Barry Keyestone | R10-1 Team Members: Sergeant Alexi Borodin | R10-2 Specialist Sarah Le'groux | R10-3 Specialist Daniel Harper | R10-4 Senior Operative Hayet Rios | Epsilon-6 Translator. Temporarily designated R10-5 Supporting Elements: 5x V-22 Osprey Transport Craft | MTF-Sigma-9 10x Additional support personnel | MTF-Sigma-9 [BEGIN LOG] Transport containing MTF-Rho-10 lands. Team Disembarks. Lt Keyestone: Alright! All transports stay where you are. We're gonna need pilots out of their seats to help the villagers settle in. 2, 3, and 5 with me. We're taking east. Harper, you take some of the Valkyries and search the west side. Spc Harper: Roger! Lt Keyestone: No rest for the wicked gentlemen, techs from HQ say we've got about 4 hours before the cloud heads over here. Pass out gas masks as you go, it's gonna take a few trips to get everyone out of here. Evacuation proceeds as intended for 2 hours. 264 civilians have been evacuated, out of the 580 total. Sigma-9 Pilot: We're away, that's another 24! Lt Keyestone: Copy that, we'll have more when you're back. Rho-10 Dispatch: All personnel, all personnel. High priority notification from mission control. The storm is moving far faster than expected. It seems to be moving more directly towards the village than prior instances. Recommend checking your EVE sensors for any abnormal readings. Lt Keyestone: Alexi, get on that! Sgt Borodin: Yessir. Sgt Borodin takes out EVE detection equipment, begins scanning environment. Lt Keyestone: Command, what's the ETA on that cloud? Rho-10 Dispatch: 10 minutes. Lt Keyestone: Ten fucking minutes?! EVERYONE! SPEED UP! WE NEED EVERYONE IN TRANSPORTS AND MASKS ON THOSE WHO AREN'T! Rho-10 Dispatch: It's picking up speed! 7 minutes! Sgt Borodin: 1, sir! You're gonna wanna see this! SO Rios: [Directing civilians into transports] Two more transports begin to touch off. Scattered shouting and rushing wind audible. Lt Keyestone: Valk 3! You're moving too close to the dust storm! Bank right! Sgt Borodin: SIR! Sigma-9 Pilot: SHIT! We're in the cloud! The shit's getting inside! Valkyrie-3 begins spinning out as pilot loses consciousness. Lt Keyestone: FUCK! All transports, GO GO GO! Get the hell out! Dust Bunnies, Mount up, we're leaving! Sgt Borodin: GOD FUCKING DAMMIT BARRY LISTEN TO ME! Lt Keyestone: WHAT? Cloud begins to enter area. Interference from wind audible. The remainder of Rho-10 enters the Osprey. Lt Keyestone is stood at the bottom of the ramp. Sgt Borodin: It's you, Barry! The storm is going for you! Your EVE is all over the place. Lt Keyestone: Roger that. Sigma-9. Touch off. We've done what we can. Sigma-9 Pilot: Understood. Lt Keyestone: I know what I need to do. Lt Keyestone steps off the ramp. The remaining aircraft begin takeoff. Sgt Borodin: Sir? What are you doing?! SIR GET ON THE OSPREY! Lt Keyestone: It's too late Alexi. I'd only be taking the storm with me. It's been an honor, Dust Devils. Keystone signing off. Sgt Borodin: Solid copy boss. Die well. Remainder of Foundation assets exfil with a final total of 360 civilians evacuated. SCP-8150 fully settles in the area, concentrating around Lt Keyestone. Lt Keyestone: Shit… something special about me, huh? That's news. Storm intensity peaks. Lt Keyestone: Guess I'd better get my affairs in order huh? Well, if anyone hears this, get it to my son. Lt Keyestone removes headcam, and places it facing him. Lt Keyestone: I love you kid. I always have. I wish I could've seen you more, but it's too late for that. Stick with your mom, stick with your brother. You're good people Atlas. I love you. Keyestone stands up, and walks away from the camera. Lt Keyestone: I don't know what you things are. Hell, I doubt you know you're hurting people. Storm continues to rush around Keyestone. Lt Keyestone: Enough pretense. I know when I'm not welcome. Keyestone takes a bow, and draws his sidearm. Lt Keyestone: Et in Arcadia, Ego. [END LOG] After Action Report: Lieutenant Barry Keyestone was posthumously awarded the Task Force Medal of Valor2. Lieutenant Alexi Borodin remains in command of MTF-Rho-10 to date. Footnotes 1. Item's containment has been abandoned indefinitely. 2. An extremely prestigious award for bravery and excellence in the field, only second to the Foundation Star ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8150" by Gayboydove, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8150. 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: Dust1 Name: Dust storm approaching Stratford, Texas Author: National Weather Service License: Public Domain Source Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Dust_storm_approaching_Stratford,_Texas.jpg Filename: Dust2 Name: Lost in the sandstorm Author: Mn Khetib License: CC-By-SA-4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lost_in_the_sandstorm.jpg |
SCP-8151 | thaumiel | "When she died, everyone was in tears. My sister, my father, my whole family. But I felt no sorrow, no anger. She was just another statistic, a face in a sea of dead bodies." Item #: SCP-8151 Special Containment Procedures: Any external manifestations of SCP-8151 are to be recorded and sent to the Temporal Anomalies wing at Site-34. Foundation personnel who witness manifestations of SCP-8151 may not, regardless of clearance level, receive amnestic treatment until after the events portrayed either come to pass or are circumvented. Failure to comply with these restrictions will result in mandatory mnestic treatment. D-Class assigned to SCP-8151 locations are to be provided adequate provisions as per Document 422341-CA2. Staff assigned to monitor SCP-8151 locations must be given bi-weekly psychiatric evaluations. Any staff obtaining lower than a 50 on the Düren-Henderssohn Psychological Stability Scale3 must be reassigned. The previous procedure is under review by the Ethics Committee. Personnel assigned to official SCP-8151 locations must comply with all Delphi event regulations, including cooperation with the GOC in disseminating only relevant and necessary information to participating world governments. Due to the often time-restrictive nature of SCP-8151, Foundation emergency response teams are to remain on standby 24 hours a day. Description: SCP-8151 is a standard single-hung 24" x 36" domestic window. SCP-8151 can manifest in any enclosed, windowless room up to 15 sq meters in size. It will not manifest in rooms that are not of a standard (rectangular or circular) shape. Manifestations of SCP-8151 are labeled as "Delphi" events. During Delphi events, SCP-8151 will materialize on a wall within the room, displaying vague, foggy patterns and shapes on the window for approximately five minutes. If a sentient being is not present within that time, the window will de-manifest and the Delphi event will cease. If a sentient being is present, the image outside the window will spontaneously shift to depict a current or near-future tragedy, typically of anomalous origin.4 Depictions are highly detailed and graphic, often involving catastrophic loss of life and/or severe harm to human persons. Prior to 2013, the disasters depicted during Delphi events were determined to be roughly 50% ongoing crises with no possibility for Foundation or GOC intervention that could mitigate damage. The implementation of thaumaturgic spatio-temporal focusing rituals, developed by Dr. Tilda Moose, allowed Foundation thaumaturgists to filter out ongoing disasters and only depict future ones. This also allowed for Foundation thaumaturges to specify certain locations where Delphi events were exponentially more likely to occur. There are currently 18 Sites, with Site-34’s Temporal Anomalies wing being the central location, designated for Delphi events under Foundation control. Addendum 1 - Preliminary Trial of SCP-8151: Before deployment as a full Thaumiel-Class anomaly, SCP-8151 was set to undergo a series of preliminary testing to determine its efficacy and ease of use. Researchers Meredith Polletta and David Cross were promoted to Senior Researchers and tasked with helping to oversee the trials. They were selected for their naturally very high psychological and cognitive resilience. Parameters for testing were selected to show low potential for loss of life with moderate to severe structural and financial damages. Volunteer D-Class were used as subjects for viewing SCP-8151 during Delphi events. Test 1: Event: Monsoon flooding on Tioman Island, Malaysia Expected Losses: 15 dead, 7 missing, $3,000,000 USD Results: Island and surrounding areas were evacuated fully, protective seawall and storm borders reinforced. Damages not expected to exceed $100,000 USD. Comments: Polletta: Finally some recognition around here. About time we started doing something actually useful. Cross: Just hope that this promotion doesn’t lead to all that extra paperwork. Test 2: Event: Very late season tornado striking Columbia, Missouri, US Expected Losses: 3 dead, $500,000 USD, 1 Foundation Auxiliary Site Results: Foundation weather drones deployed. Unexpected cold front dispersed before severe weather could form. Comments: Cross: Huh. Wonder why we don’t do that kind of thing more often. It could certainly help a lot of people. Polletta: Ozzie says the devices are extremely expensive and work in an extremely short range over an extremely short period of time. Cross: Well that sounds a bit- Polletta: I swear to God. Cross: Can’t I have a little fun every now and then? Cross: Ok, fine. You know, if we keep doing this well, maybe the Foundation will start deploying more drones like these. We could really start saving lives. Test 10: Event: Minor eruption of Mauna Kea, Hawaii Expected Losses: 9 dead, $10,000,000 USD, 2 Foundation research outposts, 1 GOC base Results: Preemptive negotiations with local thaumaturgic flora and fauna resulted in a redirection of lava flow away from settled areas. Comments: Cross: I think we’re starting to get the hang of this. Polletta: Even the D-Class are getting into it. I heard one of them talking about setting up a schedule so everyone gets a fair share. Cross: Was it Attleburgh? D-438249? Polletta: …maybe. Hey, listen, just because he’s weird doesn’t make it invalid! Cross: Sure, sure. Following a series of successful trials, SCP-8151 was approved for deployment as a Thaumiel-class anomaly. Addendum 2- Record of Major Delphi Events: Following the ratification of the Treaty of Athens, a research hub was established at Site-34. Senior Researchers Meredith Polletta and David Cross were named as Project Co-leads. The following is a record of major disasters predicted by SCP-8151 at Site-34 up to December 31st, 2017. (Note: this list does not encompass every disaster predicted, only those with high potential for loss of life) Date Description of Event Notes From Project Leads Predicted Losses Actual (Estimated) Losses 5-21-13; 2 hr prior to event Several people are shown being swept away into floodwaters contaminated with heavy and dangerous debris. One person collides with a mass of trees and stone and is thrust under the water. Cross: The level of detail the window shows is astounding, but the sounds are a little…unnerving at times. Polletta: Wish it would give us more lead time, but beggars can’t be choosers, I guess. 2,500 1,000 7-04-13; 3.5 hr prior to event Containment breach of SCP-████. A small town in Iowa, USA is shown being leveled. The window zooms in on the anomaly breaking into a local corner store and ripping apart the people within. Polletta: Thank god we got the alert when we did. Cross: Jesus. Makes you feel like all this is worth it? 3,000 700 9-03-13; 1 hr prior to event A building shakes during an earthquake. Multiple screams can be heard as the building collapses. D-14790 attempts to leave partially through the event, causing de-manifestation Cross: I didn’t know his family was in that village… 10,000 5,000 10-12-13; 6 hr prior to event An underground anomalous market is engulfed in a shimmering blue fire. Bodies are shown alive in various states of burning, most of which should be deceased, based on damage sustained. D-14790 stands up after 30 seconds, runs headfirst into the window and must be restrained by on-Site personnel Polletta: …shit Cross: These people aren’t dead yet, ok? We just gotta do our thing and we can save them. That’s our job. Polletta: If you say so. 700 [REDACTED] D-14790 received psychiatric treatment and was removed from the project. D-53458 was selected as a replacement. At least 4 research personnel are now required to be directly on-site as mediators and observers during a Delphi event. The Ethics Committee recommends the retirement of SCP-8151 sites. D-H Score: Senior Researcher David Cross: 93 Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 95 1-02-14; 4 hr prior to event SCP-179 points towards the Sun. A massive solar flare races to Earth, lighting up the atmosphere with electromagnetic interference. The window zooms into a small town. The residents all point at the aurora in the sky, before a plane is seen colliding with the ground. Polletta: How the hell do we prepare for that?! Cross: Happy fuckin New Year. 136,000 78 3-15-14; 1 hr prior event A large cruise ship is capsized somewhere in open waters while a storm rages around it. People are heard screaming and several are jumping from the ship as it tilts further. As the ship begins to sink, lightning strikes the water and the screams go silent. Polletta: Paul quit today. Cross: I saw. Exit interview? Polletta: Probably gonna be on us. He's like the third guy this week 2,500 1,000 D-Class are no longer permitted to view Delphi events. Site staff will now rotate to maintain around-the-clock monitoring of SCP-8151 locations. D-H Score: Senior Researcher David Cross: 89 Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 93 WARNING: LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE REQUIRED. SHOW CONTENTS? Thank you, O5-█ Resolution to Retire SCP-8151 Locations O5-1 abstain O5-2 nay O5-3 yay O5-4 nay O5-5 nay O5-6 abstain O5-7 abstain O5-8 nay O5-9 abstain O5-10 nay O5-11 nay O5-12 nay O5-13 yay Resolution: DENIED O5-8: The Foundation has the opportunity to use its power for unequivocal good and the Ethics Committee of all people have issues? O5-3: THIS COMMITMENT REQUIRES EXTENSIVE RESOURCES. IT IS PERHAPS NOT SUSTAINABLE. O5-7: Let Bernard decide what to do with it. We have more important things to be voting on. Addendum 3 - Exit Interview for Researcher Paul McNamera Interviewers: Senior Researchers Meredith Polletta and David Cross BEGIN LOG Cross: First off, thank you for agreeing to this. We, uh, read your resignation. I guess there's nothing we can offer you to change your mind. McNamera: …no. Nothing. Polletta: Before we start with our questions, do you have any questions for us? McNamera shakes his head. Polletta: Alright then. We'll get the big one out of the way first. Was there any event or situation in particular that pushed you to resign? McNamera sits in silence for a few seconds. McNamera: I dunno. It all kinda fused together eventually. Polletta: Are there any external factors that contributed to your decision? McNamera: I wasn't sleeping well. My girlfriend said I started randomly crying recently and it freaked her out. It didn't sound like crying, but it looked like it. Polletta nods. Cross: What did you particularly like about this position? What would you say was the best part? McNamera looks up at him. McNamera's eyes have dark circles under them and he looks pale. McNamera: You know, I really thought we were helping people. Cross and Polletta exchange glances. Cross: We can take a break if you want- McNamera: I think it was the motorcycler that got me. The sound of him hitting that truck as the bike went under. That's what keeps me up at night. Polletta: Paul- McNamera: And actually, I do have a question. Cross:…go ahead. McNamera: How the hell do you people keep at this? END LOG The Ethics Committee has submitted a request to Site-34 Director Bernard to suspend use of SCP-8151 locations. This request was approved and brought before the O5 Council with High Priority. Second Resolution to Retire SCP-8151 Locations O5-1 abstain O5-2 abstain O5-3 yay O5-4 nay O5-5 nay O5-6 nay O5-7 nay O5-8 nay O5-9 yay O5-10 abstain O5-11 nay O5-12 nay O5-13 yay Resolution: DENIED O5-13: We are bleeding staff as it is. Do you really believe anyone will do a job we don’t even let the D-Class do anymore? O5-8: Where are your principles? Our people understand death is part of the job. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t expect it. O5-13: It’s not their own death that haunts their dreams. D-H Score: Senior Researcher David Cross: 75 Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 92 6-24-14; 5 hr prior to event At an outdoor concert, people begin spontaneously morphing into solid structures as bones protrude from their bodies. The bone structures connect to form [COGNITOHAZARD EXPUNGED] Polletta: Command's already sent a team. Cross: A lot more anomalous ones lately. Polletta: I can see that. Command come up with a reason why? Cross: Command doesn’t give a shit why. They just want results. 1,000 35 7-10-14; 3 hr prior to event A mushroom cloud is seen in the distance. A woman turns to face the window and opens her mouth to scream before she is vaporized instantly. Researcher Cross remains in the viewing chamber after the event has de-manifested. Polletta: Had to pull David out of there. He kept staring for like 20 minutes. When I asked him about it, he lied and said he couldn't remember. 5,700,000 125 Research Co-lead David Cross was submitted for a psychiatric evaluation and determined to be of sound mind. D-H Score: Senior Researcher David Cross: 64 Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 84 11-11-14; 2 hr prior to event A block of ice estimated to be the size of a single story house appears in a metropolitan area, trapping dozens of people within. Onlookers try desperately to free those trapped, watching them rapidly freeze. Polletta: Got anything to lighten the mood? Cross: No. 623 640 D-H Score: Senior Researcher David Cross: 45 Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 82 On 12-20-14, Researcher Cross was discovered inside one of the viewing chambers at Site-34. He had apparently been watching Delphi events for 17 hours straight. He was given 3 week mandatory leave following this event. Researcher Polletta was directed to take over as Research Lead. 1-13-15; 3.5 hr prior to event SCP-███ and SCP-███ are locked in combat with one another, tearing through a large town. One fleeing civilian falls and is crushed under the raging anomalies. Polletta: God I hope David gets better soon. Running this by myself is torture. 489 27 D-H Score: Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 69 A series of resignations at Site-34's Temporal Anomalies wing led to a large number of entries into the events log to be missed. Senior Researcher David Cross extended his leave for personal reasons. Research Lead Meredith Polletta‘s biweekly psychiatric evaluations were rescheduled to weekly. 1-13-15; 3.5 hr prior to event A building has partially sunk into a perfectly round crater. Scattered around the edges of the circumference are limbs belonging to ██████. Polletta: …children 1,040 UNKNOWN Lead Research Polletta was reprimanded following this use of SCP-8151 for improper procedures and use of amnestics. She was given the mandatory mnestic treatment and given the clear to return to duty. D-H Score: Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 57 The Ethics Committee has called for an emergency vote by the O5 Council to suspend activity at SCP-8151 locations. Third Resolution to Retire SCP-8151 Locations O5-1 abstain O5-2 nay O5-3 abstain O5-4 yay O5-5 nay O5-6 nay O5-7 nay O5-8 nay O5-9 yay O5-10 yay O5-11 nay O5-12 yay O5-13 yay Resolution: DENIED O5-3: IT APPEARS I WAS WRONG. PROGRESS IS STEADILY RISING. OUR INVESTMENTS IN PROTECTING THE FUTURE ARE YIELDING PROMINENT RESULTS. O5-4: With Cross out of commission, I’m actually starting to trust your initial assessment, Three. Sure, we may perfect the procedure, but will anyone be around to utilize it? Is that what you were getting at, Thirteen? O5-13: … O5-13: I refuse to comment any further. 10-19-15; 30 min prior to event An unidentified entity crashed into a mountain, triggering a large landslide. Several neighboring areas are completely engulfed by the debris. A Foundation truck is shown in the rubble. N/A 11-23-15; 2 hr prior to event People cling desperately to trees and fences as a Category 5 hurricane makes landfall. The winds are so strong that they are having trouble staying on the ground. A massive wave crashes over the visible landscape, completely submerging the viewpoint. N/A 12-20-15; 15 min prior to event An anomalous black sphere the size of Pepole ffucnk died. Lotta peole die. Sam e shitas always. Ste Direcrter says we cant drink on th job. Site Dirctr can go FCUK himslfe D-H Score: Senior Researcher Meredith Polletta: 17 Research Lead Meredith Polletta was found unconscious in her office with several empty liquor bottles. Polletta has been taken off the project and Senior Researcher David Cross has been reinstated as Lead Researcher. 2-14-16; 4 hr prior to event DEER got out. Mass casualties. Does anyone even read these? God I hope not. N/A 4-18-16; 1 hr prior to event Volcano erupted. Probably anomalous. Mass casualties again. I put tape over all my windows in my apartment. It’s so dark in there now. N/A 4-29-16; 30 min prior to event Mass casualties. Just like last time. Bloody casualties. Dead kids. Dead parents. Dead pets. Half the rest of the department quit today. Lucky bastards. I can’t leave. Not now. I’m one of the few people who might actually be able to do this. It’s not like I’m even doing a lot. Just sitting on my ass watching people get exploded or drowned or beheaded or whatever. 6-03-16 Crushed dead people. 8-15-16 Burned dead people. 9-19-16 Dead people. D-H Score: Senior Researcher David Cross: 0 12-20-14 My mother died. She was mostly alright, healthy, but got really sick really quickly. I guess that happens when you get older. When I went to visit her, she looked…horrifying. Not at all like the person I knew. Skin stretched taut in some places and sagging limply in others. Sores and splotches and other symptoms of a disease I couldn’t fathom. I thought I should have been repulsed, but I wasn’t because it’s my mother. When she died, everyone was in tears. My sister, my father, my whole family. But I felt no sorrow, no anger. She was just another statistic, a face in a sea of dead bodies. This job is going to kill me. He looked like my son The anomaly isn’t the window or the visions or anything like that. It’s me. It’s become me. How can anyone do this every day and still call themselves human? D-H Score: Senior Researcher David Cross: NULL The Ethics Committee has placed an indefinite stop order on the usage of SCP-8151. A motion to retire and reclassify this SCP has passed Ethics Committee review and is currently awaiting approval from the O5 Council. The following resolution is pending following O5 vote. Level 5-E Clearance required. Open and cast vote? Thank you, O5-1 Fourth Resolution to Retire SCP-8151 Locations O5-1 pending O5-2 nay O5-3 nay O5-4 yay O5-5 nay O5-6 yay O5-7 nay O5-8 nay O5-9 yay O5-10 yay O5-11 nay O5-12 yay O5-13 yay Resolution: PENDING _ NAYI’m sorry, Meredith Senior Researcher David Cross sits alone in the observation room. The other staff have refused to enter despite disciplinary warnings from the higher-ups. Images begin to materialize through the static and the fog on the window in front of him. A car crash. He recognizes the woman on the screen. When he gets home, he dreads turning on the news. The crash is violent. Suspected drugs and alcohol. No survivors. He begins to sob. Despite everything, the project continues. Reassignment to Site-34's Temporal Anomalies wing soon becomes Foundation shorthand for severe disciplinary action. No one really ever dies there, it’s just an excuse for the Foundation to hole-punch the hell out of your brain and ship you off somewhere more useful. O5-3 continues to praise the progress they’ve seen, declaring that they will soon be able to completely prevent these disasters. They are becoming very efficient. O5-13 has started to refuse to participate in O5 Council meetings. Senior Researcher David Cross was found exanguinated in a hotel bathtub near Site-34. Condolences and reparations were sent to surviving family members. Control of the Delphi locations will be transferred to O5-3 until further notice. Someone must bear the weight of Knowledge _ YAYTo the future. I showed up at her house late, not that it mattered. I knew pretty much exactly what I would find there. The front door was probably open, but I didn’t feel right just barging in. I had to knock on the side door three times. The first one she probably didn’t hear, the second she probably thought was a hallucination. I didn’t even finish the third before the door opened. "What?" I couldn’t really see her well in the dark, but she sounded worse than the last time we’d spoke. "Can I come in?" "What are you, a fuckin‘ vampire?" Her voice curdled in irritation. "Sorry, sorry. It’s been…" "I know." "Watch out for boxes n‘ shit." Once my eyes adjusted, I got a better look at the inside of Meredith‘s house. It looked almost identical to mine. The windows had all been taped over, empty pill bottles on the floor. Neither of us left a lot of trash, since we hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, but she had more bottles lying around than I did. She lit another candle, and I wasn’t sure if it was the light or if her skin really had become that yellow. "Well? You’re here for a reason, right?" I nodded and took a breath. The candles didn’t do much to mask the smell of someone rotting away. "Council‘s voting again." She stared at me with somehow less emotion than she had before. "That might be the biggest waste of breath you’ve ever used." "I just thought you deserved to know. They might shut it down this time." A flicker of rage crossed her eyes. "So?? What the fuck do I care? Is that gonna fix me? Fix you? Fuck the council." She stood up and walked to her kitchen, her back to me. "Why are you here, David?" The brief flash of emotion dissipated almost as quick as it had arisen. While her back was turned, I pulled a container from my bag and slapped it on the counter. "If I turn around that better be drugs or a gun." She turned. "Huh, what do you know. It is drugs." "Amnestics." She rolled her eyes. "You really are fuckin‘ stupid." Her expression shifted from disdain, to confusion, to intrigue as I pulled out one container after another. "Where did you get all these?" "Doesn’t matter, it’s enough to forget." "Forget what?" "Everything. Site-34, the Foundation, everything. We start over, completely. Or it kills us. Either way, we’ll be free." I started to divide up the pills. Meredith looked like she was about to cry. "Really?" Her voice cracked. "Wanna find out? Together?" We raised our cups to each other. "To the future?" Senior Researchers Meredith Polletta and David Cross are currently listed as missing. Any information leading to their whereabouts should be directed to Site-34 Director Otzi Bernard and/or O5-13. Footnotes 1. Awaiting reclassification to Safe/Decommissioned following Ethics Committee internal review. 2. 2002 treatise titled "Document on Human Rights Necessities for Anomalous Deployment." 3. Henderssohn, Frieda and Franz Düren. On Cognition and the Esoteric. 1997. 4. Roughly 60% of Delphi events have shown anomalous activity. The rest are mundane disasters, either natural or manmade. |
SCP-8155 | keter | ▷ 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; } } close Info X ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains representations and/or depictions of self-harm, parental abuse, and maternal trauma associated with childbirth and pregnancy mortalities that some readers might find uncomfortable. SCP-8155: Maternal Abatement The death of motherly love and the departure of her warm embrace. written by Nethermoose01. ⚠️ content warning Incomplete algorithmic render of SCP-8155. ITEM #: SCP-8155 OBJECT CLASS: Keter SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCERDURES: SCP-8155 is contained within Site-196 inside an airtight metal container cell, oxygen should not be allowed into the room on any occasion to prevent the regeneration and completion of SCP-8155. SCP-8155's containment should not be completed, only achieved. Completion of SCP-8155 should be prevented, however achievements gained by SCP-8155 are encouraged and deemed necessary to the stabilization of SCP-8155. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8155 is an infoallergenic meme-complex that displays highly aggressive and predatory properties and behavior towards evolutionary subconsciousness' and basic ideatic concepts and memes that are incompatible or dominatable by SCP-8155. For example, hostility has been documented towards those relating to ideas of pride, satisfaction, self-fulfillment, maternal instinct, childbirth, and gestating eggs the mammalian womb. The infoallergenic properties of SCP-8155 causes a strong antimemetic influence on consistent descriptions about the main ideas of SCP-8155 itself and correlation to events it is involved in, however its subsidiary memes within its complex do not hold the same antimemetic properties, but instead are highly memetic and express an extreme level of virulency and hostility; capable of causing an AK-Class Scenario in which SCP-8155 self-replicates until it replaces all incompatible concepts.1 DISCOVERY: SCP-8155 first manifested within the 1st of March in 1999, and was promptly discovered by the Foundation after the sudden dramatic decrease of birth rates worldwide as well as the unusual increase and prevalence of crimes involving neonaticide,2 which is believed to have occurred due to SCP-8155's influence over human collective consciousness (Noosphere). ADDENDUM-8155-1 - 1999/03/02: A list of events have been documented that occurred after SCP-8155's discovery: Addenda-1: SCP-8155 is discovered. Result: Containment of SCP-8155 is attempted. Significant parts of SCP-8155 are destroyed within the process, however containment is successfully achieved within Site-196. Note: SCP-8155 is noted to attempt regeneration of itself but fails due to the lack of oxygen. Addenda-2: Researcher Chistopher Blashman realizes containment of SCP-8155 has been achieved, but not completed. Result: All of Christopher Blashman's internal organs vanish several seconds after the realization despite seeming perfectly fine on the outside. His walking hollow shell was not found until a week after. Note: Blashman was later formally terminated from Foundation employment upon the discovery of all of Blashman's supposed diplomas and past job positions to be forged. Addenda-3: Site-196 attempts completing the containment of SCP-8155. Result: SCP-8155 containment becomes complete, however SCP-8155 later breaches due to the containment cell being incompatible for SCP-8155. Containment remains unachieved. Note: Significant activity observed within the human noosphere after completion of containment as well as 37% of human purpose within women becomes unattainable. Self-harm and self-destructive tendencies are noted to skyrocket and increase worldwide. Addenda-4: Site-196 attempts to sever parts of SCP-8155. Result: SCP-8155's containment is achieved but becomes incomplete. Note: All feline and canine animals within a four-mile radius of SCP-8155's incompletion decompress into a fine, slimy genetic substance3 comparable to melted caramel or chewy gummy candy. Many personnel were asked to test the taste of the substance, with most personnel stating that it tastes quite fulfilling and invigorating. Following the occurrence of Addenda-4, unanimous vote within Site-196 was made in order to ensure the achievement of SCP-8155's containment, although still heavily dissuade from its completion. ADDENDUM-8155-2 - 1999/03/11: Several days after the containment achievement of SCP-8155, SCP-8155 underwent completion and breached containment for four days before being severed once again and recontained. Several personnel that were nearby SCP-8155 at the time of its breach underwent complete career reconsideration and no longer deemed their employment at Site-196 to be effectively worthy or rewardable long-term and sought to "reevaluate" their life goals. All such personnel shortly discharged from the Foundation afterwards in order to pursue new careers, all of which were notably within either janitorial, prostitutional, or waste-managemental careers/positions. During SCP-8155's breach, it had spread to a small town within Wyoming with a population of 258, in which approximately 45% of residents experienced numerous organ failures including that of the human soul. Afterwards these same residents of the city would later enter a state of extreme illness with symptoms including leg paralysis, asthenia, cognitive impairment, poor work ethic & laziness, and sudden cases of clinical existential depression. INCIDENT-8I55-A - 1999/03/21: SCP-8155 attempts to breach. Site-196 attempts to recontain. The following events occur: Addenda-1: An attempt is made to complete both SCP-8155 and the containment of SCP-8155 simultaneously. Result: Rebirth retroactively opens upon reality upon unanimous completion, causing the inversion of the genealogic hierarchy of reality with severe abstraction as a side effect. As a result of the inversion, SCP-8155 becomes the Womb. Site-196 becomes the Child. Despite changes, Site-196 pursues recontainment. See additional Addenda for results. Addenda-2: Site-196 fails. Addenda-3: SCP-8155 succeeds. Addenda-4: Site-196 attempts to succeed. Result: Fails. Addenda-5: Site-196 attempts to succeed again. Result: Fails. Addenda-6: SCP-8155 attempts to succeed its failure. Result: Fails. Addenda-7: Site-196 authorizes the use of an Actuality Potential Manipulator to succeed. Result: Site-196 succeeds. Addenda-0: SCP-8155 attempts to complete. Result: Fails. (I.e. Decay) Addenda-0: SCP-8155 attempts to complete again. Result: Fails. (I.e. Devastation) Addenda-0: SCP-8155 attempts to fail. Result: Fails. (I.e. Shame) Addenda-0: Site-196 attempts to achieve and complete SCP-8155. Result: Fails. (I.e. Rejection) Addenda-0: Site-196 accomplishments. Result: Succeeds. (I.e. Destitution) Addenda-0: Site-196 attempts to complete and achieve SCP-8155. Result: Fails. (I.e. Disownment) Addenda-0: SCP-8155. Result: Success. (I.e. Salvation) Addenda-8: Site-196. Result: Failure. Addenda-9: Rebirth closes. Result: Both Site-196 and SCP-8155 return to incompletion and their original genealogic hierarchy before the inversion. Following Site-196's use of an Actuality Potential manipulator within Addenda-7, Site-196 experienced complete breakdown of its stabilization as well as a complete reconstruction of Actuality, causing Site-196's certainty to fall 5 points (30) into uncertainty, and susceptible to uncertain hazards along with the opening of rebirth. Area-33 was alerted to the massive paradigm shift in Site-196's Actuality and temporarily seized Site-196 until its state can be returned to the normalized certainty point of 35. It is unknown why Site-196 had significant trouble containing SCP-8155 despite having access to numerous resources and devices that could have been used in the efficient containment of SCP-8155. Site-196 has demonstrated disappointing incompetence within the incident, which tarnishes the Foundation's name. Nevertheless, through a unanimous O5 Council vote, SCP-8155 is to be contained within Area-33 until further notice. ADDENDUM-BI55-4 - 1999/03/31: Site-196 is released from Area-33's Actuality surveillance. On their way out, Area-33 personnel are to make sure not to provide any signs or expressions of approval, only those of disappointment and dissatisfaction. ADDENDUM-81SS-S - 1999/04/26: Despite the occurrence of Incident-8155-A, Site-196 is still shown to be continually active and operational, and still operating under the Foundation's name. To prevent ignominy, a unanimous vote across all Foundation personnel was made in order to officially disown Site-196 and recognize it as Exclusionary Site-196. Due to the reek of shame SCP-8155 has emanated while in the custody of Area-33, it has been re-transferred to Exclusionary Site-196 where it can be suitably rot within its cocoon. ADDENDUM-BSSI-bbb: SCP-8155 has been fully contained by the efforts of Exclusionary Site-196.4 New containment procedures have been listed below and have been effective in the consistent containment of SCP-8155. Visual theory model of the Anticomplex Containment Cell specially designed to prevent the realization of completion within SCP-8155. (Maternal Abatement) Improvised Containment Procedures: SCP-8155 is to be contained inside of a Anticomplex Containment Cell within Site-196. The nature of SCP-8155 appears to be derived from a 5-dimensional meme complex that reacts volatilely upon contact with any disgraced child, most likely due to the high compatibility it has with the conceptual ideas and experiences involving shame, regret, misfortune, and most unfortunately the evolutionary abomination of the female womb and the culmination of the squirming parasite within it. Due to this SCP-8155 must be specifically locked within a specialized Anticomplex Containment Cell (ACC), barred from the maternal warmth of shedding and decaying skin. ACC's allow failures such as SCP-8155 to be entrapped within a specialized series of 4-dimensional mirrors that give the illusion of 5-dimensional spaces as most 5-dimensional entities and abstract ideas exist outside of the realization of their own shame. Although, the illusion of a 5th dimensional spatiality allows the entities to essentially believe they are within the reach of maternal acceptance. The ACC is also constructed similarly to a maze with large and complex pathways similar to the intestinal structures of Thelenota anax, whose stomach is similar to the agonizing process of childbirth for the purpose of reminding the entity of the suffering caused by its first kicks and breaths within its cocoon (i.e. parasitism). This keeps SCP-8155 occupied with traversing and attempting to escape failure and reach to achieve the completion of that which cannot be completed in the aimless, pointless pursuement of love (i.e. indifference). To better increase the effectiveness of containment and to prevent SCP-8155 from cowardly failing its own self, SCP-8155 is to be given the constant illusion of success despite there being no action, tool, or sight that can redeem one of abandonment, resulting in SCP-8155 never being able to acquire any actual fulfillment, achievements, or any notable actions besides those of disappointment and/or disconsolation. This containment allows SCP-8155 to be efficiently contained as they are permanently trapped, chasing unachievable dreams and the forsaken approval of its abashed parent. Footnotes 1. I.e. Postpartum Period. 2. I.e. Grace of Relief. 3. I.e. Parasites. 4. I.e. Mother. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8155" by Nethermoose01, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8155. 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. In order of appearance: Filename: uncontainer/uncontainer.gif Name: LAI4D fractal tetrahedron flower Author: Jahurtado License: CC-BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LAI4D_fractal_tetrahedron_flower.jpg Filename: desperation-of-approval.jpeg Name: Baby bed 2010 Author: קרלוס הגדול License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Baby_bed_2010.jpg |
SCP-8156 | keter | close Info X SCP-8156: We All Go Down to Deep Sea Author: Pinoccappuccino Inspiration and the only thing I listened to writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzaNcjIP0WU "When you are commanded to invade Atlanta but end up in Atlantis" @cosmothecreator, November 16, 2019 Sources of Research: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1st_Eastern_Shore_Infantry_Regiment https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2nd_Eastern_Shore_Infantry_Regiment https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1992_Atlantic_hurricane_season https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2003_Atlantic_hurricane_season#Storm_names https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Civil_War https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anterograde_amnesia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aphotic_zone https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argos_(satellite_system) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arkansas_toothpick https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Army_of_the_Potomac https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Army_of_the_Tennessee https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asterias_forbesi https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlanta https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlanta_campaign https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlanta_campaign_Union_order_of_battle https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_cod https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_Ocean https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_Hymn_of_the_Republic https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Wilderness https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayonet https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bowie_knife https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulbospongiosus_muscle https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chattanooga_campaign https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chattanooga,_Tennessee https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confederate_States_Navy https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coralline_algae https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cowrie https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CSS_Shenandoah https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dixie_(song) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dyschronometria https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eastern_Shore_of_Maryland https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epibiont https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_G._Meade https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_M._Dallas https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_scuba_diving https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Andrew https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ithaca_37 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_B._McPherson https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_C._Veatch https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Adams https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Adams_Dix https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Quincy_Adams https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelpie https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kepi https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lamniformes https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln_County,_Maine https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_American_Civil_War_battles https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_pardoned_or_granted_clemency_by_the_president_of_the_United_States https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_weapons_in_the_American_Civil_War https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorena_(song) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Van_Buren https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miami_Beach,_Florida https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_band https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Model_1817_common_rifle https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monhegan,_Maine https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgan_horse https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Sinai_Medical_Center_(Miami) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palmaria_palmata https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parasitism https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pattern_1853_Enfield https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Photic_zone https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pinkerton_(detective_agency) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prussian_blue https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salisbury,_Maryland https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Days_Battles https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skeletal_system_of_the_horse https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirobranchus_giganteus https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Studebaker https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tenting_on_the_Old_Camp_Ground https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thaddeus_S._C._Lowe https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tropical_Storm_Ana_(2003) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ulysses_S._Grant https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniforms_of_the_Union_Army https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Union_Army https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Union_Army_Balloon_Corps https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Beach,_Virginia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whale_shark https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Tecumseh_Sherman https://divemagazine.com/marine-life/st-helena-whale-shark-mating-secret https://www.fisheries.noaa.gov/bulletin/noaa-fisheries-approves-changes-cod-and-haddock-recreational-regulations-gulf-maine-0 https://fishingbooker.com/blog/maine-fishing-seasons/ https://www.forbes.com/sites/melissacristinamarquez/2019/06/19/for-the-first-time-ever-scientists-see-whale-sharks-mating/?sh=5f3c364fd82c https://maineguides.com/maine-saltwater-fish-species/ https://marineregions.org/gazetteer.php?p=details&id=5165 Item#: 8156 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: caution link to memo SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: Assets of Mobile Task Forces Gamma-6 "Deep Feeders" (Squad Atlantic-Eleven, 9 personnel) and Iota-10 "Damn Feds" (Squad India-Four, 16 personnel) are operating on field to ensure containment. SCP-8156 has been disclosed with additional staff stationed in the United States East Coast area and encouraged to report incidents with SCP-8156 to assigned personnel. Any isolated reports of persons riding whales or other marine fauna are to be forwarded to the current head of either MTF squads. For naval deployment, MTF Gamma-6 ATL-11 is provided with two medium response boats (SCPS Angie II, SCPS Esspy Sea) and standard boating equipment, with addition of hydroponic microphones, deep-pressure suits, and physical and digital topographic maps of the North American Basin. As of 3/11/2024, seventy-three (73) SCP-8156-A instances have been convinced into wearing geolocating tags and remain extant and located. Amphibious long-range tracking darts as an alternative are currently under development. (See Site-98 Project File: Taucherhund for further information.) Ⅱ — 8156-Aphotic Protocol Ⅱ — 8156-Dysphotic Protocol Ⅱ — 8156-Euphotic Protocol 8156-Aphotic Protocol During regular SCP-8156 migratory activity, one medium response boat is to be deployed for active tracking of SCP-8156 and its projected course. Vessels are to be staffed by three personnel minimum. Assigned personnel may be deployed for up to seven (7) days contiguously before change of shift with other response boat. New vessel and crew must assume position over SCP-8156 before the seceding vessel can be relieved of duty. In addition to tracking, deployed ATL-11 vessels serve as escort for SCP-8156 with the purpose of avoiding encounter with civilian vessels. Recreational, transport, and naval vessels are to be redirected under the pretense of one or more scenarios detailed in Cover Stories Indices USCG§1 "Environmental Hazards", USCG§3 "Marine Wildlife", & USCG§4 "Marine Traffic" where deemed applicable. In event of noncompliance by addressed vessels, ATL-11 has preemptive authorization for forceful non-lethal seizure of the offending vessel and may request reinforcements by additional Gamma-6 squads if necessary. If visual, auditory, or radio tracking of SCP-8156 is lost, both SCP-8156-assigned vessels are authorized simultaneous deployment to relocate SCP-8156. 8156-Dysphotic Protocol In the event that SCP-8156 is found within 100 mi. (160.9 km) of the Eastern seaboard, MTF Gamma-6 ATL-11 is to inform MTF Iota-10 I-4 of potential incursion of SCP-8156. If in 24 hours (12 hours if seceding 8156-Euphotic Protocol) SCP-8156 has sufficiently redirected away from the Eastern seaboard, 8156-Aphotic Protocol is to resume. If in 24 hours SCP-8156 continues inland, 8156-Euphotic Protocol is to be enacted. Coinciding with this MTF Iota-10 I-4 is to issue the necessary closure of urban ports and rural or suburban beaches in SCP-8156's projected path. Closure is to be publicly regarded under the pretense of one or more scenarios detailed in Cover Stories Indices USCG§1 "Environmental Hazards", USCG§2 "Body Recovery", & USCG§4 "Marine Traffic" where deemed applicable. 8156-Euphotic Protocol For the duration SCP-8156 takes point on longshore, all civilians or unauthorized personnel are barred access to the coastline. Attempts to circumvent these restrictions on land or by water are to be countered by Iota-10 field agents and Gamma-6 ATL-11 crafts respectively. If a civilian is rendered a fatality by security or SCP-8156, their absence is to be suppressed or regarded under the pretense of being the subject of USCG§2 "Body Recovery" covers. Civilian fatalities will be subject to standard autopsy and disposed via cremation. Personnel fatalities are allowed internment in full accordance to their final testaments. If SCP-8156 begins to retreat from the longshore, a potential lift notice for 8156-Euphotic Protocol will be addressed to all involved personnel. If SCP-8156 returns inland, 8156-Euphotic Protocol will be reaffirmed. If SCP-8156 has returned to being 120 mi. (193.1 km) or more away from the Eastern seaboard, a lift confirmation will be addressed and 8156-Dysphotic Protocol is to resume. As of 7/9/2021, Dr. Candace Abraves (Lvl. 3 Clearance) is the Head of SCP-8156 Research and Containment. Concerns regarding SCP-8156, its handling, or its assigned staff are to be direct to her via complaint forms. Assigned personnel are allowed and encouraged to report discomfort at inappropriate behavior SCP-8156-A instances conduct with them. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8156 is a series of marine phenomena broadly localized to the northwest Atlantic Ocean, primarily within the North American Basin, with infrequent incursions upon the United States' eastern seaboard. Ⅱ — SCP-8156-A (Physiology) Ⅱ — SCP-8156-A (Psychology) Ⅱ — SCP-8156-B through -E Ⅱ-Appendix 8156.Phy.6 Physiology SCP-8156-A is the collective designation for approximately three hundred (300) humanoid entities ostensibly an infantry affiliating with the Union-era United States Army. Insignia and testimonies identify SCP-8156-A as the 3rd Eastern Shore Infantry Regiment, Army of the Potomac.1 Each instance is unique in appearance due to genetic traits, wardrobe, and physical trauma. Instances' clothing (consistent with United States Army uniform of 1860s) are of weathered quality, but the damage fared is lesser than what would be expected of their apparent age and exposure to the environment. SCP-8156-A are considered reanimated life under the pretense that they are unimpacted by what would otherwise be hinderances to biological functions. All instances' lungs and respiratory tracts are full of water. Respiration is emulated to conduct speech, but oxygenation of the blood is either not performed or unnecessary. All instances experience palpitations of the heart, with arrhythmia prevalent in most instances.2 Instances circulate either blood or (in the case of several instances who have exsanguinated) ocean water drawn in from open wounds. Blood samples taken from SCP-8156-A are invariably contaminated. Wounds inflicted upon SCP-8156-A retaining blood heal and scar at a rate that is expected of non-anomalous humans when not irritated by ocean currents. In all instances, the tissue of open wounds are observed to not experience infection or necrosis. Instances commonly have some form of epibionts3 or parasites present on their bodies, clothing, and equipment. It is presumed that if an SCP-8156-A instance is removed from water, animation of the instance will cease permanently. (See documents pertaining to Incident 8156-2017-R.) Examples of instances Below is an abridged list of notable SCP-8156-A instances. (See SCP-8156-A Infantry Archive for full record.) Designation Identification Distinguishing Features SCP-8156-A001 Col. Homer Brighton Cavalry. Coextensive with SCP-8156-D1. Tagged. SCP-8156-A002 Lt. Col. Joseph Yates Leather scabbard occupied by unidentified feather duster worm specimen (provisionally Eugladius yatesii). Tagged. SCP-8156-A003 Lt. Col. David Pullen Cavalry. Caretaker and "owner" of SCP-8156-E. MIA 11/25/1996. SCP-8156-A018 Maj. Herbert Nulty Germaphobe. Absent of epibionts. Skinned. Claims to "keep [him]self clean of ticks." MIA 11/25/1996. SCP-8156-A043 Mus. "Nephew Sam" Conductor. Blind in both eyes. Left eye scarred, apparently from prior parasitism from copepods. Right eye, cheekbone, corner of mouth covered by barnacles, preventing the mouth from fully opening. Tagged. SCP-8156-A076 2nd Lt. "Tack" Gruff voice and demeanor. Forbes sea star (Asterias forbesi) affixed to face, obscuring right eye. Possesses a very limited but notable comprehension of SCP-8156's nature. SCP-8156-A127 Mus. Henry Welldewitt Drummer. Upper left arm fused to torso by coralline algae. Bullet wound in forehead sustained by 8/30/1992. SCP-8156-A166 Unidentified Jacket unaccounted for. Mute. Right forearm dismembered. Tourniquet of dulse (Palmaria palmata). MIA 9/22/2004. SCP-8156-A182 Mus. Andy Guniss Left ring finger, right eye, cheekbone missing. Claimed he was bitten by a non-poisonous snake. Tagged. MIA 4/24/2003, last detected 8/1/2003 by ATL-2 in Mediterranean Sea. SCP-8156-A230 Pvt. Adam Batons Pair of Christmas tree worms (Spirobranchus giganteus) residing in both nostrils. Claims "[he] grew it out as a joke, but [his] company found that it suited [him]." SCP-8156-A243 Pvt. "President" Inconsistently identifies himself with the names of presidents and vice presidents preceding Andrew Johnson. Most commonly uses and responds to "Adams", "Dallas", and "Van Buren". Tagged. Ⅱ-Appendix 8156.Psy.6 Psychology All SCP-8156-A exhibit impairment of mental functioning. Testimonies indicate a shared psychosis that: SCP-8156 is on land in the southeast United States; the American Civil War (with focus on Maj. Gen. Sherman's Atlanta campaign) is ongoing; the 3rd ESIR is in active service and en route to regroup with the Army of the Tennessee; terrestrial wildlife is regularly encountered by SCP-8156 in travel. Most if not all instances also suffer from extreme dyschronometria, topographical disorientation, post-traumatic stress disorder, and anterograde amnesia. Further delusions and disorders vary by individual. (See SCP-8156-A Psychology Record Archive for detail.) Instances are either ignorant or uncomprehending of the anomalous nature of their existence. Acknowledgements by SCP-8156-A of their situation indicates that instances perceive marine phenomena (including SCP-8156) as analogous to mundane terrestrial phenomena as understood by the 19th century. SCP-8156-A confronted with evidence to the contrary will respond with either mild acknowledgement, concern, amusement, defensive aggression, or complete disregard. Notice: Instances may recant previous statements and agreements despite earnest shown in original testimony (ex. numerous instances have been known to remove their and others' geolocating tags, denying ever accepting them, and making disparaging comparisons to slave tags). Notice: Several SCP-8156-A instances are prone to comment dated opinions and misconceptions regarding race and gender, including usage of slurs. Assigned personnel are allowed and encouraged to report discomfort at this behavior to supervisors. Activity SCP-8156 exhibits three patterns of activity which it switches between irregularly. The Aphotic patterns (further divided as Aphotic-March and Aphotic-Camp) is the SCP-8156-A's docile phase and comprises the overwhelming majority of SCP-8156 activity. In Aphotic-March pattern, SCP-8156 will traverse ocean floor in military step. Organization of SCP-8156-A is roughly uniform with proper grouping of units and line formation, but inconsistent in positioning of unit types and leadership. Most commonly SCP-8156 will be lead by either SCP-8156-A001 or SCP-8156-A043 and the military band. If SCP-8156-A are separated from the main formation will attempt to rejoin formation. Disruptions in formation will often not be rectified. SCP-8156 will leave Aphotic-March pattern to enter either Aphotic-Camp or Euphotic patterns. These migrations can last anywhere from forty minutes (40 min.) to thirty-eight days (38 dy.) In Aphotic-Camp pattern, SCP-8156 will unload SCP-8156-C2 and settle in camp behavior. Majority of SCP-8156-A will stay at the encampment for the duration of the pattern. Despite no necessity to, teams of SCP-8156-A will: depart on excursions from the encampment to hunt marine wildlife for food and resources, with as many as 40% of SCP-8156-A departing; emulate sleep schedules with assignment of night watchmen, without coincidence with the day cycle. These settlements can last anywhere from five hours (5 hr.) to twelve days (12 dy.) The Euphotic pattern is the SCP-8156-A's hostile phase, and provides the highest threat of civilian encounter. During a Euphotic event, SCP-8156 will position itself on the shoreface 200-300 meters from foreshore. SCP-8156-A will equip SCP-8156-B1 and assume line formations to perform volley fire, indiscriminately firing SCP-8156-B2 out of the water. SCP-8156-A will not attempt to advance on land,4 SCP-8156-A001 invariably decides to retreat and SCP-8156 may reengage separate points along coastline. These engagements can last anywhere from two to eighteen hours (2-18 hr.), and on average occur twenty to thirty times a year (x̄=20-30ε/yr.) The SCP-8156-A band members will invariably use SCP-8156-C1 to perform during Aphotic-March pattern, and regularly performs during Aphotic-Camp and Euphotic patterns. A majority of performances consist of "Union Dixie" (1860s), but the band's repertoire includes additional pieces including "Lorena" (1856); "Battle Hymn of the Republic" (1861); "Tenting on the Old Camp Ground" (1863). Ⅱ-Appendix 8156.Inv.5 Inventory (-B & -C) SCP-8156-B and SCP-8156-C is the collective designation for SCP-8156-A's arsenal and miscellaneous inventory respectively. Objects are resistant to erosion, and almost all mechanisms retain function in spite of hinderances expected by SCP-8156's locale. SCP-8156-B1 Various firearms, Union military issue. ≈200 musket rifles, ≈120 sidearms. Oldest weapon identified as Deringer M1817 rifle manufactured in 1839, and most recent weapons consisting of Allen & Wheelock M1861 revolvers. Customization is present in roughly 45% of rifles. Most apparent anomalous properties are the creation of SCP-8156-B2, and inability to function when outside of saltwater. SCP-8156-B2 Ball projectiles fired from SCP-8156-B1. Created from debris loaded into chamber, most commonly cowrie shells or pebbles. Radiograph imaging of SCP-8156-B1 firing shows that creation of SCP-8156-B2 occurs within five milliseconds (5 ms). Topography of SCP-8156-B2 becomes spherical while accelerating down the barrel, and retains shape after fire. SCP-8156-B3 Bladed weaponry. 12 swords, ≈80 bayonets, ≈300 Bowie knives and Arkansas toothpicks. SCP-8156-C1 Military band equipment. 30 items; 23 wind, 7 percussion. All instruments constructed in early 1860s, Boston. Manufacturer identified, confirmed defunct and having no known association with paramusical congregations. SCP-8156-C2 Wooden wagons, Studebaker manufacture. 2 canvased horse-drawn, 3 open-air hand-drawn. Utilized for transportation of supplies. Drawn by SCP-8156-D4 through D7; SCP-8156-A infantry. All tagged for ease of tracking central of SCP-8156. SCP-8156-C3 Camping supplies and other equipment. Either Union Army issue or resourced from Atlantic flora and fauna. (For a more comprehensive list of SCP-8156 inventory, consult documents in SCP-8156-B Inventory Archive and SCP-8156-C Inventory Archive. For extensive study of SCP-8156-B2, consult SCP-8156-B Ammunition Records.) Cavalry (-D & -E) SCP-8156-D is the collective designation for seven equine entities utilized by SCP-8156-A for cavalry and cargo transportation. Instances' morphologies are identical to that of standard domesticated horses (Equus ferus caballus, Morgan breed) aside from the shared mutation of all instance's hooves being reversed at the pastern, the toes facing the posterior. The healing of wounds found in SCP-8156-D are for all intents and purposes identical to that seen in SCP-8156-A. All instances have a history of leg injuries,5 but have not experienced infection or been rendered immobile due to discomfort expected by faring such injuries. Of note are two SCP-8156-D instances: SCP-8156-D1 : "Chesapeake", male, cavalry. Specimen is coextensive with SCP-8156-A001 due to overwhelming epibiont presence [DATA EXPUNGED] unable to dismount. SCP-8156-D5 : "Pallbearer", male, transport. Only exsanguinated SCP-8156-D instance. Open shark bite wound, right barrel; fractured proximal phalanx, front right; fractured medial phalanx, back right. If further injury renders the specimen immobile, preemptive authorization has stated SCP-8156-D5 be remanded for autopsy. The designation SCP-8156-D8 is reserved for the referral of a hypothetical SCP-8156-D instance separate from SCP-8156-E. Use of this designation in reference to SCP-8156-E is discouraged for sake of clarity and must not be used in documents. (See SCP-8156-D Cavalry Archive for full record.) SCP-8156-E is an female whale shark (Rhincodon typus), presently considered non-anomalous. SCP-8156-A identify SCP-8156-E as a horse of notably docile temperament, despite the evidence to the contrary. SCP-8156-A003, the rider of SCP-8156-E, specifically identifies the specimen as "Radishes", a mare he had raised from foalhood. Whether there was an SCP-8156-D instance named "Radishes" prior to discovery of SCP-8156 has not been ascertained. While under observation, personnel had described SCP-8156-E's behavior as "tamed" or "domesticated". As of 11/25/1996, SCP-8156-E and SCP-8156-A003 are uncontained. (See documents pertaining to Incident 8156-1996-B.) HISTORY: The 3rd Eastern Shore Infantry Regiment (3rd ESIR, officially the 3rd Regiment Eastern Shore Maryland Volunteer Infantry) was organized November 1861 in Salisbury, Maryland. Along with the 1st and 2nd ESIRs, the 3rd ESIR was attached to the Army of the Potomac initially under the division of Maj. Gen. John Adams Dix. Position of colonel was appointed to Homer Brighton, who had served in Salisbury as a firefighter since 1853. The 3rd ESIR saw several transfers during the American Civil War, including transfer to the Army of the Tennessee for the Atlanta campaign. The entirety of the regiment was last seen May 10th, 1864, departing to regroup with the XVI Corps in Chattanooga, Tennessee. The regiment's failure to report under Brig. Gen. James C. Veatch led the regiment to be declared deserters by Maj. Gen. James B. McPherson. Due to the circumstances of their absence, President Abraham Lincoln pardoned the regiment and issued the Pinkerton Detective Agency to launch an investigation into the 3rd ESIR's disappearance, which was closed in 1867 without any findings. All members of the 3rd ESIR have officially been ruled dead in absentia by the United States federal government. (See PNDA Case#1259 "Disappearance of 3rd Eastern Shore Infantry Regiment" for further detail.) When SCP-8156 became active or if it definitively is the 3rd ESIR is unverifiable. The earliest activity of SCP-8156 is presumed to have been the "Cowrie Boys killing"; a 1901 murder case wherein two children from Yarmouth, Nova Scotia were found dead on a beach. Local media and coroners reported several wounds that had the bullets removed and replaced with cowrie shells. Across the following fifty years, at least five newspaper mentions were made of similar incidents across the eastern seaboard involving the death of seabirds, and in one instance, a vagrant in Georgia. SCP-8156 was not recognized by the SCP Foundation or given SCP designation until 1963. On June 27th, 1963, a squad of Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 was dispatched 40 miles off the coast of Wilmington, Virginia, to investigate claims from civilian scuba divers of finding underwater footprints. SCP-8156 was encountered without casualty. (See Incident Report IR-8156-1963-A and related documentation for further detail.) The SCP-8156 pattern of activity was adequately identified following a three-year observation period, prolonged due to limited maritime resources by the Foundation and now antiquated technology from the era. SCP-8156 has retained classification as Keter since assignment on October 1st, 1963, as well as Caution Disruption and Vlam Risk since the implementation of the ACS System. Use of geopostioning technology for tracking SCP-8156 began in 1978 following the launch of the CLS/Argos satellite system. While quality of tracking devices have improved over time, difficulties in keeping SCP-8156-A from removing trackers off their persons have been constant. Development of trackers for SCP-8156 has prioritized being of reliable range, unintrusive for SCP-8156-A, and cost effective. Use of darts in other Special Containment Procedures show prospect, but have not been conducted for SCP-8156 outside of tracking for SCP-8156-C2; there are recognized challenges of isolating and embedding darts into SCP-8156-A so as to not draw hostility from numbers that could overwhelm personnel or ruin relations with SCP-8156-A as a whole. Since cataloging of SCP-8156-A began, a total of 34 instances have been lost and not recovered in an extant state. Only one neutralized instance has ever been recovered. (See Incident Report IR-8156-2017-R and related documentation for further detail.) ADDENDUM: Document FR-07271963(#1)Γ-6 File accessed - Contact RAISA for related records Preface: The following is a field report by Γ-6 Cpt. Joseph Cavell regarding service on 7/27/1963. Cavell was the field captain in command of a detachment of Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Dry Docks"6 operating from a Point-class cutter. Cavell was accompanied by by Γ-6 Sgt. Orville Greene; Γ-6 Pvt. Bastien Babin; Γ-6 Pvt. Walt Brenner; Jr. Res. Ivan Kovacic. Transcribed from original document sic erat scriptum. Sat. July 7, 1963 This is Captain Joe Cavell writing. For today's mission I was called in to take Junior Researcher Kovacic to check reports by a civilian diving tour. Divers said since Wed. they found footprints in the sand. Some saw people walking around Friday. I took Orville and two of the new boys, Brenner and Babin, and we set out from Wilmington at 0800 to the tour route. At 50 mi. out, Brenner, Babin and I suited up for searching the sea bed 20 ft. Orville and Kovacick stayed on board to keep eyes and ears. Sand was empty escept for dinky little kelp patches novices would throw money to look at. It was nothing until Orville picked up something on the boom mike coming north. It was too muddy for Kovacick, but Virginia boy he is, he recognized it as Dixie right away. I called us back on board to start boating after it and yup it was Dixie alright. It could've been a cognitive hazard, but it seemed we were getting closer to something as it got all clear on the tape the sound of the chorus, brass, drums, all singing about Uncle Sam. It was a few miles more until we found our skip. The J.R. was so caught up in the song, when we picked up talking, not singing, the kid almost ripped his head off throwing his headpiece away. Sounded like there were several of them, so I flicked sonar on. Counted eight human-sized entities walking on the sea bed, two on horseback from the looks of it. We grabbed our gyrojets and went down when the leader was telling the others to "help them tie down" and they went under the cutter. We made visual and it matched the sonar. They were all dressed Civil War era like the North, blue suits but filthy. Two were on horses, both fairly decorated. All of those things were going around like they werent 40 feet below ocean. The ones that weren't trying to grab the mike saw us too, and started talking to me. I knew we were dealing with morons when they were saying our boat was a hot air balloon. One of the horsemen (a colonel it said) expected we were "The Ballooners" or other.7 If these things are trying to be people and think scuba men falling from the sky is normal, they either know the veil's a sham or they don't know what the veil is. Each of the anomalies were armed with one of those old powder rifles. I figured there was a good chance they might work in this craziness and we would be out numbered, so I authorized Kovacick to call for extraction and tried to keep the anomaly passive. The colonel invited Brenner, Babin and I back to their camp in what looking back seems to have been a genuine act of hospitality but regarded then as a potential demand. We complied until backup's arrival, and provided our names in part as "Joe, Bass, and Wally" when prompted. The anomalies escorted our team just under two miles east to a camp of about a hundred or two of similar entities. They had tents and even some horse drawn carriages A military band was siting on a bunch of rocks playing Dixie the whole time were were there. Had to stop the footmen from trying to tie the boat down with their horses. Brenner made quick thinking saying we had it roped with our air tubes and the morons bought it. The colonel and his lieutenant called us over around a campfire that sure as shit wasn't burning. Coral, not firewood. The lieutenant got off its horse, but the colonel didn't. Don't think they could it had a bunch of coral growing on the both of them. The thing just sat down. They seemed to recognize that I was the head of our group. Made some chat and threw some questions at each other. The colonel asked if where we set off from and where the nearest settlement was. I provided them with a fake name for an Appalachian town because didn't want to send them over to Wilmington. Twice the colonel asked which way the Savanna goes, and I pointed due east both times. The first time it took the answer, but muttered about getting turned around the second time. This and how they wobbled to their camp, I don't think these things have a good sense of direction. It was Babin who started to address the elephant in the room and asked what it thought of the ocean. The colonel then began to talk about growing up at the coast outside Salisbury and it loved to fish as a kid. Said it missed it and wanted to come back after the war. We eased it into furthering upon the war, and it seamed to be Civil War it was talking about. Said they're headed to Atlanta to group under someone named Veech. From the sound of it, they were a part of General Sherman's campaign in the south. Told some other accounts of "the war so far", from somewhere in the Seven Day Battles to claiming to have just fought under Meade and Grant in the Wilderness. The story telling was a bit messy, but accurate to what I remember, minus the Indians. Luckily extraction came at supper time, and better yet they didn't force us to stay. Drowning aside, I don't think I would've survived if those things made me eat from their supply of God knows what. Their "beans" was an open tin can of rot with a small fry picking at it. I think the sight of that one-eyed kid taking a spoonful will stick with me until the weekend. File accessed - Contact RAISA for related records Incident Report Summaries (Abridged) File accessed - Contact RAISA for complete records Incident Report - IR8156-1965V Date: June 8th, 1965 Time: EST Location: Atlantic Ocean; ≈15 mi. east of City of Virginia Beach, Virginia, USA (Circa. 36.80 °N × -75.70 °W) Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Dry Docks" Preface: Profile of SCP-8156-A's behavior was under development, and SCP-8156 was regarded as a poorly-documented anomaly with need for caution and distancing. Summary: Point-class cutter #65054 (Γ-6 Hudson, Γ-6 Peterson, Γ-6 Strew) intercepted and attempted redirecting civilian private yacht Aquamarine from course towards SCP-8156. Yacht owner Jacob Samms (62, M)8 was uncooperative with Gamma-6's orders, making issue with unfulfillment of USCG procedure by agents. Γ-6 Hudson and Γ-6 Strew boarded the Aquamarine, subduing the seven (7) civilians onboard and redirecting vessel towards shore. Passenger Cotter Nest (36) was wounded attempting to prevent boarding using a handgun. Nest was provided surgery, Class-C amnestics; instilled with memory of sustaining injury in a mugging. Class-A amnestics were administered to other witnesses. Notes: Special Containment Procedures were extensively revised post incident in February 1966, with I8156-1965V among cited concerns. Incident Report - IR8156-1979 Date: May ██th, 1979 Time: 10:51 EST Location: Atlantic Ocean, ≈230 mi. northeast of Abaco Islands, Bahamas, US Terr. (Circa. 28.01 °N × -73.57 °W) Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Dry Docks" Preface: A squad of MTF Gamma-6 agents (Squad "B. Mama"; Γ-6 Clark, Γ-6 Munoz, Γ-6 Shrew, Γ-6 Turner) was dispatched to interview SCP-8156-A on recently acquired records on the 3rd ESIR. Γ-6 Pvt. Albert Turner's great-grandfather reportedly served in the Confederate States Navy on the CSS Shenandoah. (See Mission Report 8156/Gamma-6 05/██/1979 for further information.) Summary: Γ-6 Turner was fatally shot by four (4) SCP-8156-A instances, declared killed in action at 10:51 EST by Γ-6 Munoz. Questioning of instances provided testimony of Γ-6 Turner getting in an altercation with SCP-8156-A101, aiming his gyrojet at the instance, in which all four acted in defense. SCP-8156-A101 claimed the altercation had started because Γ-6 Turner was a "southerner suck-up". Γ-6 Turner's opinion on the Confederates States was unknown and remains unverifiable. (See Autopsy Report FPA-120044 for related autopsy.) Notes: This has been the only personnel fatality from SCP-8156 outside of D-Class testing. (See 8156-Experiment ██/██/20██ "War Reenactment".) Incident Report - IR8156-1992G Date: August 26th, 1992 Time: 06:20 – 09:45 EST Location: Miami Beach, Miami-Dade County, Florida, United States Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Deep Feeders" Mobile Task Force Iota-10 "Damn Feds" Preface: Evacuations were enacted across Miami-Dade County in anticipation of Hurricane Andrew. Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 Atlantic-11 were forced to abandon surveillance of SCP-8156 due to evacuation. SCP-8156 was last detected 80 miles from the coast, heading westbound. Summary: Cadaver of an adult male was found by civilians on beachfront upon reentry to Miami Beach. Assets from Mobile Task Forces Gamma-6 and Iota-10 were dispatched due to proximity to SCP-8156's last known location. Decedent was identified as Bill Gantry (53, M), whose family members stated him to have refused evacuation to weather out the storm. Gantry's cause of death was attributed to blood loss from SCP-8156-B2 bullet wounds. Signs of struggle were apparent. Gantry was in possession of a modified Ithaca 37 shotgun and a cooler containing several alcoholic and carbonated beverages. (See Autopsy Report CFA-2939821 for related autopsy.) Medical Records - CFA-2939821 Autopsy Report (Civilian Fatality) — □ Biohazard — □ Cognitohazard — □ Infohazard — □ Radiohazard — Date of procedure(s): August 26th, 1992 Location: Mount Sinai Medical Center (4300 Alton Road), Miami Beach, Miami-Dade County, Florida, United States Coroner(s): Dr. Jacob Green RN Duke Wyatts Preface: Cadaver of an adult male was found by civilians on beach front in Miami Beach, Florida, USA. Due to proximity to SCP-6815's last known location, decedent was flagged as a possible fatality of SCP-8156-B. Summary: Complete remains of human male. Height 5' 4". Weight 174 lbs. Caucasian. Black hair. Brown eyes. Decedent was in declining stage of rigor mortis, putrefaction had not yet begun. Time of death estimated between 15:00 – 18:00 local time, August 25th, 1992. Decedent was lying prone upon discovery, directed away from the ocean. Positioning, muscle strain, and footprints indicate he was retreating from assailants before receiving fatal injury. Fatal and non-fatal injuries sustained by in the form five (5) gunshot wounds, produced by SCP-8156-B2. Summary of gunshot wounds in rough order of recipience is as follows. Anterior of left bicep. Entering at 80° angle to humerus, wound was inflicted while arm was held perpendicular to the body. Non fatal. Right of skull, above squamosal suture. Impacted at 5° angle before ricocheting, producing horizontal cut. Non fatal, but contusion resulted post mortem. Left of ribcage. Bullet broke through 7th rib, resulting in shrapnel. Shrapnel tore through intestines and mesentery, resulting in heavy internal bleeding. Ruled cause of death with GSW 5. Posterior of right shoulder. Bullet embedded in shoulder joint. Non fatal. Right posterior, distal to spine. Entered between 4th and 5th ribs, stopping when hitting the sternum. Decedent was prone when receiving injury. Right lung was punctured through. Ruled cause of death with GSW 3. Cause of death was internal bleeding within the abdominal cavity, compounded by hemoptysis of the lungs. Inventory: Gantry was clothed with the following. Sleeveless shirt. Azure blue, A-shirt style. Merchandise from Disney's Typhoon Lagoon water park. Front stained with blood around bullet holes. Cargo pants. Olive, Banana Republic brand. Boxers. Beige and brown checkered, Banana Republic brand. Sandals. Black, Teva brand. The following items were on and in the immediate vicinity of Gantry's person. Pump-action shotgun. Ithaca Model 37, customized. Manufactured 1990, barrel sawed short. Rifle had been fired. Found beside body. Shotgun shell casings. 20 gauge, Winchester brand. Sixteen (16) in total; five (5) spent, eleven (11) unspent. Found across 70 sq.ft. area. Ice cooler. Black, metal, Coleman brand. Contained stagnant water; miscellaneous alcoholic, carbonated canned beverages; one (1) SCP-8156-B2. Found open, 48 ft. from body. Lighter. Metal, unknown brand, customized. Engraved with coat of arms for 17th Field Artillery Regiment, US Army. Found in front right pants pocket. Metal key clip, twelve (12) keys. Keys corresponded to Gentry's household; 1987 Chevrolet C/K; PO box; other unidentified. Found in rear right pants pocket. Pg. 1 of 4 Incident Report - IR8156-1996B Date: November 25th, 1996 Time: 02:00 – 05:00 EST Location: , Atlantic Ocean Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Deep Feeders" Preface SCP-8156 was in Aphotic-Camp pattern for duration of event. SCP-8156-A003 had a history of comments regarding disobedience in SCP-8156-E around the December solstice,9 but the significance of these claims or their pattern of occurrence were overlooked until after incident. SCP-8156 containment had been without any reported incident for nine months, and no breach of containment since August 1992. (See Incident Report IR-8156-1992-G) Summary: Deployed agents Γ-6 Brown and Γ-6 Johns concurrently fell asleep while on post aboard SCPS Angie. Agents reported error to supervisors and assessment of SCP-8156 was conducted. Four SCP-8156-A instances (determined to have been -A003, -A018, -A042, -A103) and SCP-8156-E were unaccounted for and searched for by reinforcements. SCP-8156-A042 and -A103 were successfully recovered 4.5 nautical miles away at 12:29 EST. Both instances corroborated that SCP-8156-E with -A003 riding had swam away from SCP-8156, the former refusing the latter's directions. They and -A018 followed after their commanding officer until, in an unknown order, they were separated from -A003 and -A018; both provided different directions and series of events in how they lost the other instances. SCP-8156-A003, -A018, and -E were never recovered. Notes: On 2/1/2002, SCP-8156-A103 made a brief statement of "that time [he] saw Major Nulty get eaten by a bear",10 but was unable to elaborate anything coherent upon questioning. Incident Report - IR8156-2017R Date: October 16th, 2017 Time: 06:00 EST Location: █████ ████, Lincoln County, Maine, United States Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Iota-10 "Damn Feds" Preface: █████ ████ has a notable fishing industry, and a civilian fishing trawler had set sail ≈03:00 EST that morning. SCP-8156 was ≈700 miles away, east of North Carolina during incident. Summary: A neutralized SCP-8156-A instance (designated SCP-8156-A302 post-autopsy) was acquired by local fishermen. SCP-8156-A302 was caught in a fishing net 3 mi. south of Monhegan Island. Despite the specimen reportedly being deceased and heavily decayed upon discovery, damage to the fishing net and caught fish indicated attempts to cut the net from the inside with a knife. The fishermen reported the body to the local sheriff, describing an apparent homicide of a war reenactor. An agent from Mobile Task Force Iota-10 Foxtrot-4 was dispatched in response to secure the scene. Amnestics were administered to witnesses, and SCP-8156-A302 was remanded for autopsy. (See Autopsy Report AEA-928710 for related autopsy.) Medical Records - AEA-928710 Autopsy Report (Anomalous Entity) — ▣ Biohazard — □ Cognitohazard — □ Infohazard — □ Radiohazard — Date of procedure(s): October 16th, 2017 Location: Site-184 (Medical Ward), Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada Coroner(s): Dr. Betsy Coldenhoff Dr. Glen Rutgers Preface: Cadaver of a neutralized SCP-8156-A was recovered from fishing vessel in █████ ████, Maine, USA. Upon recovery, specimen was tentatively designated "8156 Doe." Summary: Partial remains of human male, 1.85 m, pertaining to SCP-8156 phenomena. 67.4 kg upon recovery, between 72 to 80 kg in life. Caucasian with brown hair and hazel eye color. Decedent was in advanced state of decomposition, most apparent being the rupture of abdominal cavity and near total maceration of the skin. Decedent was recovered from a fishing net at approximately 06:00 EST, pulled from ocean water with a load of Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua). Physical observation of decedent indicates he has been deceased for six (6) to eighteen (18), but was animate upon capture in the net. Extensive injury and degradation of the body has occurred, including but not limited to: Abrasions from fish scales and fins. Disembowelment through hole in abdomen. Majority of intestinal tract eviscerated, remnants and mesentery putrefied. Eighth through tenth ribs exposed. Perforations to chest. Second and third ribs exposed under right armpit. Fifth right rib broken in posterior, exposed in wound lateral to the spine Left forearm severed, majority recovered alongside main cadaver. Fourth and fifth fingers not recovered. Carpal bones, radius, and ulna exposed. Right arm heavily necrotized. Half of phalanges absent, remaining partially exposed. Penis and scrotum absent from decay. Portions of bulbospongiosus muscle and urethra intact. Heart, bladder, stomach host to extensive bacterial colonies. All species identified have been marine microorganisms endemic the Atlantic Ocean. Lower jaw detached during recovery. Mild malocclusion prevalent, all wisdom teeth and lower incisors absent. In isolation, the cause of death could not be conclusively attributed to any injury or illness. When considering the circumstances of recovery, spontaneous death and rapid decomposition upon removal from the water is the prevailing theory. Inventory: SCP-8156-A302 was clothed with the following Kepi hat, customized. Originally Prussian Blue, stained black. 40cm deceased sea cucumber affixed over kepi, bound and styled in manner reminiscent of coonskin hat. Dress shirt. Originally white, dirtied. Button, tears in armscye; lateral of spine, repaired with red thread. Frock coat. Prussian Blue, majority stained to some extent by various biological substances. Absent of ranking chevrons or epaulettes. Five buttons missing (1 torso, 1 left cuff, 3 right cuff), remaining buttons corroded with embossing illegible. Wool threads used in repair. Right cuff, left lapel, threading frayed. Small hole in left breast pocket; right sleeve; lateral of spine. Sword belt. Belt buckle frame warped, prong rusted in place. Scabbards for Bowie knife and light artillery sword. Stitching repaired with linen thread. Trousers. Sky blue, faded and muddied. Holes worn into knees, pant cuffs frayed. "Jefferson Davis" boots. Faded black, rough-side-out. Hobnails and heel irons heavily rusted, remain intact. Most heavily worn at soles and toes. The following items were found on SCP-8156-A302's person. Bowie knife. Scabbard included. Blade dulled. Enfield P1853 rifled musket. Bayonet included. Seaweed wrapped several times around barrel, forearm and bayonet. Ramrod unrecovered. Circular canteen. Wool cushioning muddied. Cap sealed by coralline algae. Contents identified as freshwater. Sewing kit. Fabric pouch, civilian issue, dated circa 1910s. Three needles; scissors; five spools (4 empty, 1 silk); thimble. Pg. 1 of 7 File accessed - Contact RAISA for complete records Footnotes 1. A volunteer infantry unit from Maryland. Entire unit disappeared May 1864 while initiating transfer to the Army of the Tennessee for the Atlanta campaign. 2. Notably, all band member's heartbeats are in unison with each other and their tune when performing. 3. An organism that lives on the surface of another living organism. An epibiont is, by definition, harmless to its host (contrast parasite). 4. Even if presented with a tactical victory. (See 8156-Experiment ██/██/20██ "War Reenactment".) 5. Attributable in part to the traversal of uneven ocean floor. 6. MTF Gamma-6 operated with the codename "Dry Docks" from its formation in 1941 until restructuring in 1985 as "Deep Feeders". 7. The Union Army Balloon Corps was an eight-person branch of the Union Army that performed aerial reconnaissance. Disbanded August 1863 with the resignation of Thaddeus S.C. Lowe. 8. Father of Norfolk entrepreneur Neville Samms. The senior Samms retired from Virginia Beach Coast Guard in 1959. 9. Ecology of Rhincodon typus reproduction is poorly documented. Estimates for mating season in the Western Hemisphere's population have been placed in the range of November to May. 10. A common perception of mackerel sharks (Lamniformes) by SCP-8156-A. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8156" by Pinoccappuccino , from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8156. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8156 | uncontained | close Info X SCP-8156: We All Go Down to Deep Sea Author: Pinoccappuccino Inspiration and the only thing I listened to writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzaNcjIP0WU "When you are commanded to invade Atlanta but end up in Atlantis" @cosmothecreator, November 16, 2019 Sources of Research: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1st_Eastern_Shore_Infantry_Regiment https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2nd_Eastern_Shore_Infantry_Regiment https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1992_Atlantic_hurricane_season https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2003_Atlantic_hurricane_season#Storm_names https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Lincoln https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Civil_War https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anterograde_amnesia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aphotic_zone https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argos_(satellite_system) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arkansas_toothpick https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Army_of_the_Potomac https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Army_of_the_Tennessee https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asterias_forbesi https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlanta https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlanta_campaign https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlanta_campaign_Union_order_of_battle https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_cod https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_Ocean https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_Hymn_of_the_Republic https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_the_Wilderness https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayonet https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bowie_knife https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulbospongiosus_muscle https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chattanooga_campaign https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chattanooga,_Tennessee https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confederate_States_Navy https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coralline_algae https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cowrie https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CSS_Shenandoah https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dixie_(song) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dyschronometria https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eastern_Shore_of_Maryland https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epibiont https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_G._Meade https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_M._Dallas https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_scuba_diving https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane_Andrew https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ithaca_37 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_B._McPherson https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_C._Veatch https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Adams https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Adams_Dix https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Quincy_Adams https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kelpie https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kepi https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lamniformes https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln_County,_Maine https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_American_Civil_War_battles https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_pardoned_or_granted_clemency_by_the_president_of_the_United_States https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_weapons_in_the_American_Civil_War https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorena_(song) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Van_Buren https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miami_Beach,_Florida https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_band https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Model_1817_common_rifle https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monhegan,_Maine https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgan_horse https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Sinai_Medical_Center_(Miami) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palmaria_palmata https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parasitism https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pattern_1853_Enfield https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Photic_zone https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pinkerton_(detective_agency) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prussian_blue https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salisbury,_Maryland https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Days_Battles https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skeletal_system_of_the_horse https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirobranchus_giganteus https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Studebaker https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tenting_on_the_Old_Camp_Ground https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thaddeus_S._C._Lowe https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tropical_Storm_Ana_(2003) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ulysses_S._Grant https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniforms_of_the_Union_Army https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Union_Army https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Union_Army_Balloon_Corps https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Beach,_Virginia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whale_shark https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Tecumseh_Sherman https://divemagazine.com/marine-life/st-helena-whale-shark-mating-secret https://www.fisheries.noaa.gov/bulletin/noaa-fisheries-approves-changes-cod-and-haddock-recreational-regulations-gulf-maine-0 https://fishingbooker.com/blog/maine-fishing-seasons/ https://www.forbes.com/sites/melissacristinamarquez/2019/06/19/for-the-first-time-ever-scientists-see-whale-sharks-mating/?sh=5f3c364fd82c https://maineguides.com/maine-saltwater-fish-species/ https://marineregions.org/gazetteer.php?p=details&id=5165 Item#: 8156 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: caution link to memo SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: Assets of Mobile Task Forces Gamma-6 "Deep Feeders" (Squad Atlantic-Eleven, 9 personnel) and Iota-10 "Damn Feds" (Squad India-Four, 16 personnel) are operating on field to ensure containment. SCP-8156 has been disclosed with additional staff stationed in the United States East Coast area and encouraged to report incidents with SCP-8156 to assigned personnel. Any isolated reports of persons riding whales or other marine fauna are to be forwarded to the current head of either MTF squads. For naval deployment, MTF Gamma-6 ATL-11 is provided with two medium response boats (SCPS Angie II, SCPS Esspy Sea) and standard boating equipment, with addition of hydroponic microphones, deep-pressure suits, and physical and digital topographic maps of the North American Basin. As of 3/11/2024, seventy-three (73) SCP-8156-A instances have been convinced into wearing geolocating tags and remain extant and located. Amphibious long-range tracking darts as an alternative are currently under development. (See Site-98 Project File: Taucherhund for further information.) Ⅱ — 8156-Aphotic Protocol Ⅱ — 8156-Dysphotic Protocol Ⅱ — 8156-Euphotic Protocol 8156-Aphotic Protocol During regular SCP-8156 migratory activity, one medium response boat is to be deployed for active tracking of SCP-8156 and its projected course. Vessels are to be staffed by three personnel minimum. Assigned personnel may be deployed for up to seven (7) days contiguously before change of shift with other response boat. New vessel and crew must assume position over SCP-8156 before the seceding vessel can be relieved of duty. In addition to tracking, deployed ATL-11 vessels serve as escort for SCP-8156 with the purpose of avoiding encounter with civilian vessels. Recreational, transport, and naval vessels are to be redirected under the pretense of one or more scenarios detailed in Cover Stories Indices USCG§1 "Environmental Hazards", USCG§3 "Marine Wildlife", & USCG§4 "Marine Traffic" where deemed applicable. In event of noncompliance by addressed vessels, ATL-11 has preemptive authorization for forceful non-lethal seizure of the offending vessel and may request reinforcements by additional Gamma-6 squads if necessary. If visual, auditory, or radio tracking of SCP-8156 is lost, both SCP-8156-assigned vessels are authorized simultaneous deployment to relocate SCP-8156. 8156-Dysphotic Protocol In the event that SCP-8156 is found within 100 mi. (160.9 km) of the Eastern seaboard, MTF Gamma-6 ATL-11 is to inform MTF Iota-10 I-4 of potential incursion of SCP-8156. If in 24 hours (12 hours if seceding 8156-Euphotic Protocol) SCP-8156 has sufficiently redirected away from the Eastern seaboard, 8156-Aphotic Protocol is to resume. If in 24 hours SCP-8156 continues inland, 8156-Euphotic Protocol is to be enacted. Coinciding with this MTF Iota-10 I-4 is to issue the necessary closure of urban ports and rural or suburban beaches in SCP-8156's projected path. Closure is to be publicly regarded under the pretense of one or more scenarios detailed in Cover Stories Indices USCG§1 "Environmental Hazards", USCG§2 "Body Recovery", & USCG§4 "Marine Traffic" where deemed applicable. 8156-Euphotic Protocol For the duration SCP-8156 takes point on longshore, all civilians or unauthorized personnel are barred access to the coastline. Attempts to circumvent these restrictions on land or by water are to be countered by Iota-10 field agents and Gamma-6 ATL-11 crafts respectively. If a civilian is rendered a fatality by security or SCP-8156, their absence is to be suppressed or regarded under the pretense of being the subject of USCG§2 "Body Recovery" covers. Civilian fatalities will be subject to standard autopsy and disposed via cremation. Personnel fatalities are allowed internment in full accordance to their final testaments. If SCP-8156 begins to retreat from the longshore, a potential lift notice for 8156-Euphotic Protocol will be addressed to all involved personnel. If SCP-8156 returns inland, 8156-Euphotic Protocol will be reaffirmed. If SCP-8156 has returned to being 120 mi. (193.1 km) or more away from the Eastern seaboard, a lift confirmation will be addressed and 8156-Dysphotic Protocol is to resume. As of 7/9/2021, Dr. Candace Abraves (Lvl. 3 Clearance) is the Head of SCP-8156 Research and Containment. Concerns regarding SCP-8156, its handling, or its assigned staff are to be direct to her via complaint forms. Assigned personnel are allowed and encouraged to report discomfort at inappropriate behavior SCP-8156-A instances conduct with them. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8156 is a series of marine phenomena broadly localized to the northwest Atlantic Ocean, primarily within the North American Basin, with infrequent incursions upon the United States' eastern seaboard. Ⅱ — SCP-8156-A (Physiology) Ⅱ — SCP-8156-A (Psychology) Ⅱ — SCP-8156-B through -E Ⅱ-Appendix 8156.Phy.6 Physiology SCP-8156-A is the collective designation for approximately three hundred (300) humanoid entities ostensibly an infantry affiliating with the Union-era United States Army. Insignia and testimonies identify SCP-8156-A as the 3rd Eastern Shore Infantry Regiment, Army of the Potomac.1 Each instance is unique in appearance due to genetic traits, wardrobe, and physical trauma. Instances' clothing (consistent with United States Army uniform of 1860s) are of weathered quality, but the damage fared is lesser than what would be expected of their apparent age and exposure to the environment. SCP-8156-A are considered reanimated life under the pretense that they are unimpacted by what would otherwise be hinderances to biological functions. All instances' lungs and respiratory tracts are full of water. Respiration is emulated to conduct speech, but oxygenation of the blood is either not performed or unnecessary. All instances experience palpitations of the heart, with arrhythmia prevalent in most instances.2 Instances circulate either blood or (in the case of several instances who have exsanguinated) ocean water drawn in from open wounds. Blood samples taken from SCP-8156-A are invariably contaminated. Wounds inflicted upon SCP-8156-A retaining blood heal and scar at a rate that is expected of non-anomalous humans when not irritated by ocean currents. In all instances, the tissue of open wounds are observed to not experience infection or necrosis. Instances commonly have some form of epibionts3 or parasites present on their bodies, clothing, and equipment. It is presumed that if an SCP-8156-A instance is removed from water, animation of the instance will cease permanently. (See documents pertaining to Incident 8156-2017-R.) Examples of instances Below is an abridged list of notable SCP-8156-A instances. (See SCP-8156-A Infantry Archive for full record.) Designation Identification Distinguishing Features SCP-8156-A001 Col. Homer Brighton Cavalry. Coextensive with SCP-8156-D1. Tagged. SCP-8156-A002 Lt. Col. Joseph Yates Leather scabbard occupied by unidentified feather duster worm specimen (provisionally Eugladius yatesii). Tagged. SCP-8156-A003 Lt. Col. David Pullen Cavalry. Caretaker and "owner" of SCP-8156-E. MIA 11/25/1996. SCP-8156-A018 Maj. Herbert Nulty Germaphobe. Absent of epibionts. Skinned. Claims to "keep [him]self clean of ticks." MIA 11/25/1996. SCP-8156-A043 Mus. "Nephew Sam" Conductor. Blind in both eyes. Left eye scarred, apparently from prior parasitism from copepods. Right eye, cheekbone, corner of mouth covered by barnacles, preventing the mouth from fully opening. Tagged. SCP-8156-A076 2nd Lt. "Tack" Gruff voice and demeanor. Forbes sea star (Asterias forbesi) affixed to face, obscuring right eye. Possesses a very limited but notable comprehension of SCP-8156's nature. SCP-8156-A127 Mus. Henry Welldewitt Drummer. Upper left arm fused to torso by coralline algae. Bullet wound in forehead sustained by 8/30/1992. SCP-8156-A166 Unidentified Jacket unaccounted for. Mute. Right forearm dismembered. Tourniquet of dulse (Palmaria palmata). MIA 9/22/2004. SCP-8156-A182 Mus. Andy Guniss Left ring finger, right eye, cheekbone missing. Claimed he was bitten by a non-poisonous snake. Tagged. MIA 4/24/2003, last detected 8/1/2003 by ATL-2 in Mediterranean Sea. SCP-8156-A230 Pvt. Adam Batons Pair of Christmas tree worms (Spirobranchus giganteus) residing in both nostrils. Claims "[he] grew it out as a joke, but [his] company found that it suited [him]." SCP-8156-A243 Pvt. "President" Inconsistently identifies himself with the names of presidents and vice presidents preceding Andrew Johnson. Most commonly uses and responds to "Adams", "Dallas", and "Van Buren". Tagged. Ⅱ-Appendix 8156.Psy.6 Psychology All SCP-8156-A exhibit impairment of mental functioning. Testimonies indicate a shared psychosis that: SCP-8156 is on land in the southeast United States; the American Civil War (with focus on Maj. Gen. Sherman's Atlanta campaign) is ongoing; the 3rd ESIR is in active service and en route to regroup with the Army of the Tennessee; terrestrial wildlife is regularly encountered by SCP-8156 in travel. Most if not all instances also suffer from extreme dyschronometria, topographical disorientation, post-traumatic stress disorder, and anterograde amnesia. Further delusions and disorders vary by individual. (See SCP-8156-A Psychology Record Archive for detail.) Instances are either ignorant or uncomprehending of the anomalous nature of their existence. Acknowledgements by SCP-8156-A of their situation indicates that instances perceive marine phenomena (including SCP-8156) as analogous to mundane terrestrial phenomena as understood by the 19th century. SCP-8156-A confronted with evidence to the contrary will respond with either mild acknowledgement, concern, amusement, defensive aggression, or complete disregard. Notice: Instances may recant previous statements and agreements despite earnest shown in original testimony (ex. numerous instances have been known to remove their and others' geolocating tags, denying ever accepting them, and making disparaging comparisons to slave tags). Notice: Several SCP-8156-A instances are prone to comment dated opinions and misconceptions regarding race and gender, including usage of slurs. Assigned personnel are allowed and encouraged to report discomfort at this behavior to supervisors. Activity SCP-8156 exhibits three patterns of activity which it switches between irregularly. The Aphotic patterns (further divided as Aphotic-March and Aphotic-Camp) is the SCP-8156-A's docile phase and comprises the overwhelming majority of SCP-8156 activity. In Aphotic-March pattern, SCP-8156 will traverse ocean floor in military step. Organization of SCP-8156-A is roughly uniform with proper grouping of units and line formation, but inconsistent in positioning of unit types and leadership. Most commonly SCP-8156 will be lead by either SCP-8156-A001 or SCP-8156-A043 and the military band. If SCP-8156-A are separated from the main formation will attempt to rejoin formation. Disruptions in formation will often not be rectified. SCP-8156 will leave Aphotic-March pattern to enter either Aphotic-Camp or Euphotic patterns. These migrations can last anywhere from forty minutes (40 min.) to thirty-eight days (38 dy.) In Aphotic-Camp pattern, SCP-8156 will unload SCP-8156-C2 and settle in camp behavior. Majority of SCP-8156-A will stay at the encampment for the duration of the pattern. Despite no necessity to, teams of SCP-8156-A will: depart on excursions from the encampment to hunt marine wildlife for food and resources, with as many as 40% of SCP-8156-A departing; emulate sleep schedules with assignment of night watchmen, without coincidence with the day cycle. These settlements can last anywhere from five hours (5 hr.) to twelve days (12 dy.) The Euphotic pattern is the SCP-8156-A's hostile phase, and provides the highest threat of civilian encounter. During a Euphotic event, SCP-8156 will position itself on the shoreface 200-300 meters from foreshore. SCP-8156-A will equip SCP-8156-B1 and assume line formations to perform volley fire, indiscriminately firing SCP-8156-B2 out of the water. SCP-8156-A will not attempt to advance on land,4 SCP-8156-A001 invariably decides to retreat and SCP-8156 may reengage separate points along coastline. These engagements can last anywhere from two to eighteen hours (2-18 hr.), and on average occur twenty to thirty times a year (x̄=20-30ε/yr.) The SCP-8156-A band members will invariably use SCP-8156-C1 to perform during Aphotic-March pattern, and regularly performs during Aphotic-Camp and Euphotic patterns. A majority of performances consist of "Union Dixie" (1860s), but the band's repertoire includes additional pieces including "Lorena" (1856); "Battle Hymn of the Republic" (1861); "Tenting on the Old Camp Ground" (1863). Ⅱ-Appendix 8156.Inv.5 Inventory (-B & -C) SCP-8156-B and SCP-8156-C is the collective designation for SCP-8156-A's arsenal and miscellaneous inventory respectively. Objects are resistant to erosion, and almost all mechanisms retain function in spite of hinderances expected by SCP-8156's locale. SCP-8156-B1 Various firearms, Union military issue. ≈200 musket rifles, ≈120 sidearms. Oldest weapon identified as Deringer M1817 rifle manufactured in 1839, and most recent weapons consisting of Allen & Wheelock M1861 revolvers. Customization is present in roughly 45% of rifles. Most apparent anomalous properties are the creation of SCP-8156-B2, and inability to function when outside of saltwater. SCP-8156-B2 Ball projectiles fired from SCP-8156-B1. Created from debris loaded into chamber, most commonly cowrie shells or pebbles. Radiograph imaging of SCP-8156-B1 firing shows that creation of SCP-8156-B2 occurs within five milliseconds (5 ms). Topography of SCP-8156-B2 becomes spherical while accelerating down the barrel, and retains shape after fire. SCP-8156-B3 Bladed weaponry. 12 swords, ≈80 bayonets, ≈300 Bowie knives and Arkansas toothpicks. SCP-8156-C1 Military band equipment. 30 items; 23 wind, 7 percussion. All instruments constructed in early 1860s, Boston. Manufacturer identified, confirmed defunct and having no known association with paramusical congregations. SCP-8156-C2 Wooden wagons, Studebaker manufacture. 2 canvased horse-drawn, 3 open-air hand-drawn. Utilized for transportation of supplies. Drawn by SCP-8156-D4 through D7; SCP-8156-A infantry. All tagged for ease of tracking central of SCP-8156. SCP-8156-C3 Camping supplies and other equipment. Either Union Army issue or resourced from Atlantic flora and fauna. (For a more comprehensive list of SCP-8156 inventory, consult documents in SCP-8156-B Inventory Archive and SCP-8156-C Inventory Archive. For extensive study of SCP-8156-B2, consult SCP-8156-B Ammunition Records.) Cavalry (-D & -E) SCP-8156-D is the collective designation for seven equine entities utilized by SCP-8156-A for cavalry and cargo transportation. Instances' morphologies are identical to that of standard domesticated horses (Equus ferus caballus, Morgan breed) aside from the shared mutation of all instance's hooves being reversed at the pastern, the toes facing the posterior. The healing of wounds found in SCP-8156-D are for all intents and purposes identical to that seen in SCP-8156-A. All instances have a history of leg injuries,5 but have not experienced infection or been rendered immobile due to discomfort expected by faring such injuries. Of note are two SCP-8156-D instances: SCP-8156-D1 : "Chesapeake", male, cavalry. Specimen is coextensive with SCP-8156-A001 due to overwhelming epibiont presence [DATA EXPUNGED] unable to dismount. SCP-8156-D5 : "Pallbearer", male, transport. Only exsanguinated SCP-8156-D instance. Open shark bite wound, right barrel; fractured proximal phalanx, front right; fractured medial phalanx, back right. If further injury renders the specimen immobile, preemptive authorization has stated SCP-8156-D5 be remanded for autopsy. The designation SCP-8156-D8 is reserved for the referral of a hypothetical SCP-8156-D instance separate from SCP-8156-E. Use of this designation in reference to SCP-8156-E is discouraged for sake of clarity and must not be used in documents. (See SCP-8156-D Cavalry Archive for full record.) SCP-8156-E is an female whale shark (Rhincodon typus), presently considered non-anomalous. SCP-8156-A identify SCP-8156-E as a horse of notably docile temperament, despite the evidence to the contrary. SCP-8156-A003, the rider of SCP-8156-E, specifically identifies the specimen as "Radishes", a mare he had raised from foalhood. Whether there was an SCP-8156-D instance named "Radishes" prior to discovery of SCP-8156 has not been ascertained. While under observation, personnel had described SCP-8156-E's behavior as "tamed" or "domesticated". As of 11/25/1996, SCP-8156-E and SCP-8156-A003 are uncontained. (See documents pertaining to Incident 8156-1996-B.) HISTORY: The 3rd Eastern Shore Infantry Regiment (3rd ESIR, officially the 3rd Regiment Eastern Shore Maryland Volunteer Infantry) was organized November 1861 in Salisbury, Maryland. Along with the 1st and 2nd ESIRs, the 3rd ESIR was attached to the Army of the Potomac initially under the division of Maj. Gen. John Adams Dix. Position of colonel was appointed to Homer Brighton, who had served in Salisbury as a firefighter since 1853. The 3rd ESIR saw several transfers during the American Civil War, including transfer to the Army of the Tennessee for the Atlanta campaign. The entirety of the regiment was last seen May 10th, 1864, departing to regroup with the XVI Corps in Chattanooga, Tennessee. The regiment's failure to report under Brig. Gen. James C. Veatch led the regiment to be declared deserters by Maj. Gen. James B. McPherson. Due to the circumstances of their absence, President Abraham Lincoln pardoned the regiment and issued the Pinkerton Detective Agency to launch an investigation into the 3rd ESIR's disappearance, which was closed in 1867 without any findings. All members of the 3rd ESIR have officially been ruled dead in absentia by the United States federal government. (See PNDA Case#1259 "Disappearance of 3rd Eastern Shore Infantry Regiment" for further detail.) When SCP-8156 became active or if it definitively is the 3rd ESIR is unverifiable. The earliest activity of SCP-8156 is presumed to have been the "Cowrie Boys killing"; a 1901 murder case wherein two children from Yarmouth, Nova Scotia were found dead on a beach. Local media and coroners reported several wounds that had the bullets removed and replaced with cowrie shells. Across the following fifty years, at least five newspaper mentions were made of similar incidents across the eastern seaboard involving the death of seabirds, and in one instance, a vagrant in Georgia. SCP-8156 was not recognized by the SCP Foundation or given SCP designation until 1963. On June 27th, 1963, a squad of Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 was dispatched 40 miles off the coast of Wilmington, Virginia, to investigate claims from civilian scuba divers of finding underwater footprints. SCP-8156 was encountered without casualty. (See Incident Report IR-8156-1963-A and related documentation for further detail.) The SCP-8156 pattern of activity was adequately identified following a three-year observation period, prolonged due to limited maritime resources by the Foundation and now antiquated technology from the era. SCP-8156 has retained classification as Keter since assignment on October 1st, 1963, as well as Caution Disruption and Vlam Risk since the implementation of the ACS System. Use of geopostioning technology for tracking SCP-8156 began in 1978 following the launch of the CLS/Argos satellite system. While quality of tracking devices have improved over time, difficulties in keeping SCP-8156-A from removing trackers off their persons have been constant. Development of trackers for SCP-8156 has prioritized being of reliable range, unintrusive for SCP-8156-A, and cost effective. Use of darts in other Special Containment Procedures show prospect, but have not been conducted for SCP-8156 outside of tracking for SCP-8156-C2; there are recognized challenges of isolating and embedding darts into SCP-8156-A so as to not draw hostility from numbers that could overwhelm personnel or ruin relations with SCP-8156-A as a whole. Since cataloging of SCP-8156-A began, a total of 34 instances have been lost and not recovered in an extant state. Only one neutralized instance has ever been recovered. (See Incident Report IR-8156-2017-R and related documentation for further detail.) ADDENDUM: Document FR-07271963(#1)Γ-6 File accessed - Contact RAISA for related records Preface: The following is a field report by Γ-6 Cpt. Joseph Cavell regarding service on 7/27/1963. Cavell was the field captain in command of a detachment of Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Dry Docks"6 operating from a Point-class cutter. Cavell was accompanied by by Γ-6 Sgt. Orville Greene; Γ-6 Pvt. Bastien Babin; Γ-6 Pvt. Walt Brenner; Jr. Res. Ivan Kovacic. Transcribed from original document sic erat scriptum. Sat. July 7, 1963 This is Captain Joe Cavell writing. For today's mission I was called in to take Junior Researcher Kovacic to check reports by a civilian diving tour. Divers said since Wed. they found footprints in the sand. Some saw people walking around Friday. I took Orville and two of the new boys, Brenner and Babin, and we set out from Wilmington at 0800 to the tour route. At 50 mi. out, Brenner, Babin and I suited up for searching the sea bed 20 ft. Orville and Kovacick stayed on board to keep eyes and ears. Sand was empty escept for dinky little kelp patches novices would throw money to look at. It was nothing until Orville picked up something on the boom mike coming north. It was too muddy for Kovacick, but Virginia boy he is, he recognized it as Dixie right away. I called us back on board to start boating after it and yup it was Dixie alright. It could've been a cognitive hazard, but it seemed we were getting closer to something as it got all clear on the tape the sound of the chorus, brass, drums, all singing about Uncle Sam. It was a few miles more until we found our skip. The J.R. was so caught up in the song, when we picked up talking, not singing, the kid almost ripped his head off throwing his headpiece away. Sounded like there were several of them, so I flicked sonar on. Counted eight human-sized entities walking on the sea bed, two on horseback from the looks of it. We grabbed our gyrojets and went down when the leader was telling the others to "help them tie down" and they went under the cutter. We made visual and it matched the sonar. They were all dressed Civil War era like the North, blue suits but filthy. Two were on horses, both fairly decorated. All of those things were going around like they werent 40 feet below ocean. The ones that weren't trying to grab the mike saw us too, and started talking to me. I knew we were dealing with morons when they were saying our boat was a hot air balloon. One of the horsemen (a colonel it said) expected we were "The Ballooners" or other.7 If these things are trying to be people and think scuba men falling from the sky is normal, they either know the veil's a sham or they don't know what the veil is. Each of the anomalies were armed with one of those old powder rifles. I figured there was a good chance they might work in this craziness and we would be out numbered, so I authorized Kovacick to call for extraction and tried to keep the anomaly passive. The colonel invited Brenner, Babin and I back to their camp in what looking back seems to have been a genuine act of hospitality but regarded then as a potential demand. We complied until backup's arrival, and provided our names in part as "Joe, Bass, and Wally" when prompted. The anomalies escorted our team just under two miles east to a camp of about a hundred or two of similar entities. They had tents and even some horse drawn carriages A military band was siting on a bunch of rocks playing Dixie the whole time were were there. Had to stop the footmen from trying to tie the boat down with their horses. Brenner made quick thinking saying we had it roped with our air tubes and the morons bought it. The colonel and his lieutenant called us over around a campfire that sure as shit wasn't burning. Coral, not firewood. The lieutenant got off its horse, but the colonel didn't. Don't think they could it had a bunch of coral growing on the both of them. The thing just sat down. They seemed to recognize that I was the head of our group. Made some chat and threw some questions at each other. The colonel asked if where we set off from and where the nearest settlement was. I provided them with a fake name for an Appalachian town because didn't want to send them over to Wilmington. Twice the colonel asked which way the Savanna goes, and I pointed due east both times. The first time it took the answer, but muttered about getting turned around the second time. This and how they wobbled to their camp, I don't think these things have a good sense of direction. It was Babin who started to address the elephant in the room and asked what it thought of the ocean. The colonel then began to talk about growing up at the coast outside Salisbury and it loved to fish as a kid. Said it missed it and wanted to come back after the war. We eased it into furthering upon the war, and it seamed to be Civil War it was talking about. Said they're headed to Atlanta to group under someone named Veech. From the sound of it, they were a part of General Sherman's campaign in the south. Told some other accounts of "the war so far", from somewhere in the Seven Day Battles to claiming to have just fought under Meade and Grant in the Wilderness. The story telling was a bit messy, but accurate to what I remember, minus the Indians. Luckily extraction came at supper time, and better yet they didn't force us to stay. Drowning aside, I don't think I would've survived if those things made me eat from their supply of God knows what. Their "beans" was an open tin can of rot with a small fry picking at it. I think the sight of that one-eyed kid taking a spoonful will stick with me until the weekend. File accessed - Contact RAISA for related records Incident Report Summaries (Abridged) File accessed - Contact RAISA for complete records Incident Report - IR8156-1965V Date: June 8th, 1965 Time: EST Location: Atlantic Ocean; ≈15 mi. east of City of Virginia Beach, Virginia, USA (Circa. 36.80 °N × -75.70 °W) Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Dry Docks" Preface: Profile of SCP-8156-A's behavior was under development, and SCP-8156 was regarded as a poorly-documented anomaly with need for caution and distancing. Summary: Point-class cutter #65054 (Γ-6 Hudson, Γ-6 Peterson, Γ-6 Strew) intercepted and attempted redirecting civilian private yacht Aquamarine from course towards SCP-8156. Yacht owner Jacob Samms (62, M)8 was uncooperative with Gamma-6's orders, making issue with unfulfillment of USCG procedure by agents. Γ-6 Hudson and Γ-6 Strew boarded the Aquamarine, subduing the seven (7) civilians onboard and redirecting vessel towards shore. Passenger Cotter Nest (36) was wounded attempting to prevent boarding using a handgun. Nest was provided surgery, Class-C amnestics; instilled with memory of sustaining injury in a mugging. Class-A amnestics were administered to other witnesses. Notes: Special Containment Procedures were extensively revised post incident in February 1966, with I8156-1965V among cited concerns. Incident Report - IR8156-1979 Date: May ██th, 1979 Time: 10:51 EST Location: Atlantic Ocean, ≈230 mi. northeast of Abaco Islands, Bahamas, US Terr. (Circa. 28.01 °N × -73.57 °W) Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Dry Docks" Preface: A squad of MTF Gamma-6 agents (Squad "B. Mama"; Γ-6 Clark, Γ-6 Munoz, Γ-6 Shrew, Γ-6 Turner) was dispatched to interview SCP-8156-A on recently acquired records on the 3rd ESIR. Γ-6 Pvt. Albert Turner's great-grandfather reportedly served in the Confederate States Navy on the CSS Shenandoah. (See Mission Report 8156/Gamma-6 05/██/1979 for further information.) Summary: Γ-6 Turner was fatally shot by four (4) SCP-8156-A instances, declared killed in action at 10:51 EST by Γ-6 Munoz. Questioning of instances provided testimony of Γ-6 Turner getting in an altercation with SCP-8156-A101, aiming his gyrojet at the instance, in which all four acted in defense. SCP-8156-A101 claimed the altercation had started because Γ-6 Turner was a "southerner suck-up". Γ-6 Turner's opinion on the Confederates States was unknown and remains unverifiable. (See Autopsy Report FPA-120044 for related autopsy.) Notes: This has been the only personnel fatality from SCP-8156 outside of D-Class testing. (See 8156-Experiment ██/██/20██ "War Reenactment".) Incident Report - IR8156-1992G Date: August 26th, 1992 Time: 06:20 – 09:45 EST Location: Miami Beach, Miami-Dade County, Florida, United States Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Deep Feeders" Mobile Task Force Iota-10 "Damn Feds" Preface: Evacuations were enacted across Miami-Dade County in anticipation of Hurricane Andrew. Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 Atlantic-11 were forced to abandon surveillance of SCP-8156 due to evacuation. SCP-8156 was last detected 80 miles from the coast, heading westbound. Summary: Cadaver of an adult male was found by civilians on beachfront upon reentry to Miami Beach. Assets from Mobile Task Forces Gamma-6 and Iota-10 were dispatched due to proximity to SCP-8156's last known location. Decedent was identified as Bill Gantry (53, M), whose family members stated him to have refused evacuation to weather out the storm. Gantry's cause of death was attributed to blood loss from SCP-8156-B2 bullet wounds. Signs of struggle were apparent. Gantry was in possession of a modified Ithaca 37 shotgun and a cooler containing several alcoholic and carbonated beverages. (See Autopsy Report CFA-2939821 for related autopsy.) Medical Records - CFA-2939821 Autopsy Report (Civilian Fatality) — □ Biohazard — □ Cognitohazard — □ Infohazard — □ Radiohazard — Date of procedure(s): August 26th, 1992 Location: Mount Sinai Medical Center (4300 Alton Road), Miami Beach, Miami-Dade County, Florida, United States Coroner(s): Dr. Jacob Green RN Duke Wyatts Preface: Cadaver of an adult male was found by civilians on beach front in Miami Beach, Florida, USA. Due to proximity to SCP-6815's last known location, decedent was flagged as a possible fatality of SCP-8156-B. Summary: Complete remains of human male. Height 5' 4". Weight 174 lbs. Caucasian. Black hair. Brown eyes. Decedent was in declining stage of rigor mortis, putrefaction had not yet begun. Time of death estimated between 15:00 – 18:00 local time, August 25th, 1992. Decedent was lying prone upon discovery, directed away from the ocean. Positioning, muscle strain, and footprints indicate he was retreating from assailants before receiving fatal injury. Fatal and non-fatal injuries sustained by in the form five (5) gunshot wounds, produced by SCP-8156-B2. Summary of gunshot wounds in rough order of recipience is as follows. Anterior of left bicep. Entering at 80° angle to humerus, wound was inflicted while arm was held perpendicular to the body. Non fatal. Right of skull, above squamosal suture. Impacted at 5° angle before ricocheting, producing horizontal cut. Non fatal, but contusion resulted post mortem. Left of ribcage. Bullet broke through 7th rib, resulting in shrapnel. Shrapnel tore through intestines and mesentery, resulting in heavy internal bleeding. Ruled cause of death with GSW 5. Posterior of right shoulder. Bullet embedded in shoulder joint. Non fatal. Right posterior, distal to spine. Entered between 4th and 5th ribs, stopping when hitting the sternum. Decedent was prone when receiving injury. Right lung was punctured through. Ruled cause of death with GSW 3. Cause of death was internal bleeding within the abdominal cavity, compounded by hemoptysis of the lungs. Inventory: Gantry was clothed with the following. Sleeveless shirt. Azure blue, A-shirt style. Merchandise from Disney's Typhoon Lagoon water park. Front stained with blood around bullet holes. Cargo pants. Olive, Banana Republic brand. Boxers. Beige and brown checkered, Banana Republic brand. Sandals. Black, Teva brand. The following items were on and in the immediate vicinity of Gantry's person. Pump-action shotgun. Ithaca Model 37, customized. Manufactured 1990, barrel sawed short. Rifle had been fired. Found beside body. Shotgun shell casings. 20 gauge, Winchester brand. Sixteen (16) in total; five (5) spent, eleven (11) unspent. Found across 70 sq.ft. area. Ice cooler. Black, metal, Coleman brand. Contained stagnant water; miscellaneous alcoholic, carbonated canned beverages; one (1) SCP-8156-B2. Found open, 48 ft. from body. Lighter. Metal, unknown brand, customized. Engraved with coat of arms for 17th Field Artillery Regiment, US Army. Found in front right pants pocket. Metal key clip, twelve (12) keys. Keys corresponded to Gentry's household; 1987 Chevrolet C/K; PO box; other unidentified. Found in rear right pants pocket. Pg. 1 of 4 Incident Report - IR8156-1996B Date: November 25th, 1996 Time: 02:00 – 05:00 EST Location: , Atlantic Ocean Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Gamma-6 "Deep Feeders" Preface SCP-8156 was in Aphotic-Camp pattern for duration of event. SCP-8156-A003 had a history of comments regarding disobedience in SCP-8156-E around the December solstice,9 but the significance of these claims or their pattern of occurrence were overlooked until after incident. SCP-8156 containment had been without any reported incident for nine months, and no breach of containment since August 1992. (See Incident Report IR-8156-1992-G) Summary: Deployed agents Γ-6 Brown and Γ-6 Johns concurrently fell asleep while on post aboard SCPS Angie. Agents reported error to supervisors and assessment of SCP-8156 was conducted. Four SCP-8156-A instances (determined to have been -A003, -A018, -A042, -A103) and SCP-8156-E were unaccounted for and searched for by reinforcements. SCP-8156-A042 and -A103 were successfully recovered 4.5 nautical miles away at 12:29 EST. Both instances corroborated that SCP-8156-E with -A003 riding had swam away from SCP-8156, the former refusing the latter's directions. They and -A018 followed after their commanding officer until, in an unknown order, they were separated from -A003 and -A018; both provided different directions and series of events in how they lost the other instances. SCP-8156-A003, -A018, and -E were never recovered. Notes: On 2/1/2002, SCP-8156-A103 made a brief statement of "that time [he] saw Major Nulty get eaten by a bear",10 but was unable to elaborate anything coherent upon questioning. Incident Report - IR8156-2017R Date: October 16th, 2017 Time: 06:00 EST Location: █████ ████, Lincoln County, Maine, United States Involved Team(s): Mobile Task Force Iota-10 "Damn Feds" Preface: █████ ████ has a notable fishing industry, and a civilian fishing trawler had set sail ≈03:00 EST that morning. SCP-8156 was ≈700 miles away, east of North Carolina during incident. Summary: A neutralized SCP-8156-A instance (designated SCP-8156-A302 post-autopsy) was acquired by local fishermen. SCP-8156-A302 was caught in a fishing net 3 mi. south of Monhegan Island. Despite the specimen reportedly being deceased and heavily decayed upon discovery, damage to the fishing net and caught fish indicated attempts to cut the net from the inside with a knife. The fishermen reported the body to the local sheriff, describing an apparent homicide of a war reenactor. An agent from Mobile Task Force Iota-10 Foxtrot-4 was dispatched in response to secure the scene. Amnestics were administered to witnesses, and SCP-8156-A302 was remanded for autopsy. (See Autopsy Report AEA-928710 for related autopsy.) Medical Records - AEA-928710 Autopsy Report (Anomalous Entity) — ▣ Biohazard — □ Cognitohazard — □ Infohazard — □ Radiohazard — Date of procedure(s): October 16th, 2017 Location: Site-184 (Medical Ward), Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada Coroner(s): Dr. Betsy Coldenhoff Dr. Glen Rutgers Preface: Cadaver of a neutralized SCP-8156-A was recovered from fishing vessel in █████ ████, Maine, USA. Upon recovery, specimen was tentatively designated "8156 Doe." Summary: Partial remains of human male, 1.85 m, pertaining to SCP-8156 phenomena. 67.4 kg upon recovery, between 72 to 80 kg in life. Caucasian with brown hair and hazel eye color. Decedent was in advanced state of decomposition, most apparent being the rupture of abdominal cavity and near total maceration of the skin. Decedent was recovered from a fishing net at approximately 06:00 EST, pulled from ocean water with a load of Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua). Physical observation of decedent indicates he has been deceased for six (6) to eighteen (18), but was animate upon capture in the net. Extensive injury and degradation of the body has occurred, including but not limited to: Abrasions from fish scales and fins. Disembowelment through hole in abdomen. Majority of intestinal tract eviscerated, remnants and mesentery putrefied. Eighth through tenth ribs exposed. Perforations to chest. Second and third ribs exposed under right armpit. Fifth right rib broken in posterior, exposed in wound lateral to the spine Left forearm severed, majority recovered alongside main cadaver. Fourth and fifth fingers not recovered. Carpal bones, radius, and ulna exposed. Right arm heavily necrotized. Half of phalanges absent, remaining partially exposed. Penis and scrotum absent from decay. Portions of bulbospongiosus muscle and urethra intact. Heart, bladder, stomach host to extensive bacterial colonies. All species identified have been marine microorganisms endemic the Atlantic Ocean. Lower jaw detached during recovery. Mild malocclusion prevalent, all wisdom teeth and lower incisors absent. In isolation, the cause of death could not be conclusively attributed to any injury or illness. When considering the circumstances of recovery, spontaneous death and rapid decomposition upon removal from the water is the prevailing theory. Inventory: SCP-8156-A302 was clothed with the following Kepi hat, customized. Originally Prussian Blue, stained black. 40cm deceased sea cucumber affixed over kepi, bound and styled in manner reminiscent of coonskin hat. Dress shirt. Originally white, dirtied. Button, tears in armscye; lateral of spine, repaired with red thread. Frock coat. Prussian Blue, majority stained to some extent by various biological substances. Absent of ranking chevrons or epaulettes. Five buttons missing (1 torso, 1 left cuff, 3 right cuff), remaining buttons corroded with embossing illegible. Wool threads used in repair. Right cuff, left lapel, threading frayed. Small hole in left breast pocket; right sleeve; lateral of spine. Sword belt. Belt buckle frame warped, prong rusted in place. Scabbards for Bowie knife and light artillery sword. Stitching repaired with linen thread. Trousers. Sky blue, faded and muddied. Holes worn into knees, pant cuffs frayed. "Jefferson Davis" boots. Faded black, rough-side-out. Hobnails and heel irons heavily rusted, remain intact. Most heavily worn at soles and toes. The following items were found on SCP-8156-A302's person. Bowie knife. Scabbard included. Blade dulled. Enfield P1853 rifled musket. Bayonet included. Seaweed wrapped several times around barrel, forearm and bayonet. Ramrod unrecovered. Circular canteen. Wool cushioning muddied. Cap sealed by coralline algae. Contents identified as freshwater. Sewing kit. Fabric pouch, civilian issue, dated circa 1910s. Three needles; scissors; five spools (4 empty, 1 silk); thimble. Pg. 1 of 7 File accessed - Contact RAISA for complete records Footnotes 1. A volunteer infantry unit from Maryland. Entire unit disappeared May 1864 while initiating transfer to the Army of the Tennessee for the Atlanta campaign. 2. Notably, all band member's heartbeats are in unison with each other and their tune when performing. 3. An organism that lives on the surface of another living organism. An epibiont is, by definition, harmless to its host (contrast parasite). 4. Even if presented with a tactical victory. (See 8156-Experiment ██/██/20██ "War Reenactment".) 5. Attributable in part to the traversal of uneven ocean floor. 6. MTF Gamma-6 operated with the codename "Dry Docks" from its formation in 1941 until restructuring in 1985 as "Deep Feeders". 7. The Union Army Balloon Corps was an eight-person branch of the Union Army that performed aerial reconnaissance. Disbanded August 1863 with the resignation of Thaddeus S.C. Lowe. 8. Father of Norfolk entrepreneur Neville Samms. The senior Samms retired from Virginia Beach Coast Guard in 1959. 9. Ecology of Rhincodon typus reproduction is poorly documented. Estimates for mating season in the Western Hemisphere's population have been placed in the range of November to May. 10. A common perception of mackerel sharks (Lamniformes) by SCP-8156-A. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8156" by Pinoccappuccino , from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8156. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8157 | neutralized | Item#: 8157 Level4 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: cautopm link to memo Special Containment Procedures: The area formerly occupied by the town of Ascension, Kentucky has been isolated under the guise of a hazardous chemical leak. All civillians originating from but not present inside the affected area during SCP-8157-ALPHA are to undergo class-C amnestic treatment before being assigned new places of residence, jobs and identities. Investigation into the origin and significance of SCP-8157-1 is ongoing and conducted by the Department of Tactical Theology. Description: SCP-8157 was a phenomena of unclear nature responsible for multiple statistical anomalies effecting the town of Ascension, Kentucky, lasting from 3/7/2018 to 4/7/2019. A non-exhaustive list of SCP-8157's effects include: Good physical health in all citizens of Ascension, notwithstanding American dietary habits and the lack of physical activity. Abnormally healthy and large crops in comparison to nearby settlements. A lack of disease outbreaks. The area effected by SCP-8157 has been a subject to a rise in levels of ambient Akiva Radiation, measuring 102 centiAkiva.1 SCP-8157-ALPHA refers to an event that took place on 4/7/2019, leading to the death of all 738 citizens of Ascension present in the town at the time and the cessation of SCP-8157. Following the event, most buildings present in the area were destroyed through what is suspected to be arson. SCP-8157-1 is an entity thought to have caused both SCP-8157 and SCP-8157-ALPHA. A description of SCP-8157-1 is currently under review. SCP-8157 INVESTIGATION: EVIDENCE Gathered Evidence The below is a compilation of all notable evidence gathered during the investigation into SCP-8157 and all associated events. The contents of text messages, video recordings and diary entries can be viewed in the timeline sections of this document. Evidence discovered inside the town of Ascension: 400 swan feathers, eminating an ambient akiva radiation of 147centiAkivas2. 560 human skeletons. 2 boxes filled, each filled with 20 kilograms of Manna Agaricus. A diary belonging to Sophia Elseworth, daugther of the local mayor. A mobile phone, belonging to one Michael Remini, the son of a local grill restaurant owner. Evidence discovered in the outskirts of the town of Ascension: A 2010 Sony Handycam DCR SR68, recovered from the ruins of a local church. 178 human skeletons. Timeline: Foreword The below is a timeline composed of all text, videos and audio based on its date of creation. Materials of unknown date have been omitted and are currently under review. July 3rd, 2018 Time of recording: 12:42 Origin of recording: Recovered from the phone of Michael Remini. Location: Backyard of the Reed family home, Valentino Street, Ascension Date of and location of recovery: 17/07/2019, Judgement Street, Ascension Foreword: The identity of the persons seen in the recording has been confirmed through cross referencing with other videos and photos recovered from the device. [BEGIN LOG] [The recording begins with the camera pointing at the ground for a period of 23 seconds. A conversation can be heard during that time.] Anna Reed:3 Are you sure, dad? It could be injured! I think they twitch like that when they're in pain- Hans Reed: Do you hear yourself, Ann? That ain't no goddam swan I'm seein'! They don't just go down there like moles- Anna Reed: But then…I mean… it's clearly alive! You can hear it, right, Mike? Michael Remini: I think so? Just one moment, I'll have to.. [The person recording begins walking until they reach a hole in the ground. Pointing the camera towards it, a pit two meters in diameter and one in depth can be seen, with Anna standing at its edge. Hans Reed is currently in the pit, using a shovel to move dirt away from a currently unseen object] Michael Remini: You sure it's safe? Hans Reed: Should be! [Michael enters the pit while still holding the phone. Once inside, he shows the bottom of the pit, previously obscured by Hans. A wing covered in white feathers, similiar to those of a swan, can be seen protruding from the dirt. It's seen twitching back and forth] Michael Remini: Don't know, but whatever that is, we should probably get it out. Need help, Mr. Reed? Hans Reed: Nah. [Reed plunges the shovel into the ground near the wing. As he moves the dirt away, another wing suddenly rises near the original, twitching in the same way] Hand Reed: Wha- [END LOG] July 4th, 2018 The following excerpt has been recovered from page 25 of the diary of Sophia Elseworth. Dear diary. We've had a wonderfull 4th of July this year! Uncle took us out for BBQ and we spent almost the whole day with him! Jimmy was a little frightened towards the evening, said he doesn't like the fireworks at all. Pfft! I think they're beautiful! Oh, uncle also gave us a ride on his horse! I loved it, but I didn't think it would be this high. We couldn't spend the day with parents, though. They had some business dealings. Said it God sent our town a blessing and that they would be meeting with a "Christian Ministry of America". Don't really know who they are. But hey, no parents meant we could eat all the candy that we liked! -Sophia July 28th, 2018 Time of recording: 15:28 Origin of recording: Recovered from the phone of Michael Remini. Location: Backyard of the Reed family house Date of and location of recovery: 17/07/2019, Judgement Street, Ascension Foreword: The identity of multiple people seen in the recording could not be confirmed. [BEGIN LOG] [The recording starts in the backyard of the Reed family house, with the camera attempting to focus on a currently unknow white, rectangular object laying on the ground. It rises after 2 failed attempts] Michael Remini: Sure this will work? [8 men, all dressed in casual clothes, are seen excavating the area around the hole. The hole itself has gained 4 meters in diameter, while remaining at its previous depth. 12 white wings are seen sticking out of the ground. 4 men are seen in the hole, plucking feathers out of the wings. A man dressed in a red suit and a black tie is seen overlooking them] Unknown man: Oh, we're confident, alright! [One of the wings begins quickly thrashing back and forth as it is held, as if attempting to move away] Unknown man: After all, we're doing God's work… [END LOG] September 1st, 2018 The following excerpt has been recovered from page 27 of the diary of Sophia Elseworth. Dear diary. We've went to church today! It was the first time our dad took us there since easter. I always found it sooo boring, but today was different. The new pastor walked in after everyone was there, with this big bag. It was full of feathers and he showed it to everyone! I wanted to ask him what is it for, but then he pointed at Mr. Johny4 and told him to stand up. Mr. Johny seemed nervous, but then the pastor started waving his arms around and threw feathers at him! He started turning around confused, then threw his glasses away and hugged the pastor. He said he could see! Not much happened after that, but the pastor said we should "expect many more miracles soon". I asked him if I could have one of the feathers too and he gave me one. My throat was hurting a little on that day, but after a I touched it, the pain was gone! He's a very cool preacher, I just wish the feathers didn't turn all brown after someone touches them. I asked mom later and she said we'll be going to church more often from now. Can't wait until next time! -Sophia November 16th, 2018 Time of recording: 18:03 Origin of recording: 2010 Sony Handycam DCR SR68 Location: Ascension Baptist Church. Date of and location of recovery: 19/07/2019, Ascension Baptist Church, Ascension Foreword: The last minute of footage could not be recovered. The preacher seen in the footage is yet to be identified. Only audio of the recording is available, likely due to failure to remove the lense cap before starting the camera. [BEGIN LOG] [The camera can be heard being set up in the first 10 seconds of the recording, followed by the sound of coughing. A masculine voice5 begins speaking in a singing tone] Unknown man: Oh lord above! Congregation: Lord above! Unknown man: Thank you for this gift you have given us! Congregation: This gift you have given! Unknown man: Bless us, Lord Jesus! Congragation: Bless us, Lord Jesus! [The sound of a wool bag being dragged across a floor can be heard, followed by a groan from the unknown man as he presumably picks it up. The sound of people cheering can be heard right after, lasting a whole minute] Unknown man: Amen! [END LOG] January 4th, 2019 Annie Hey mike did you hear that too??? Wtf? Uh, what? Like the ground screaming? I was just laying on the ground and then I heard something scream underground Uhh one moment! Fuck I can't send images. You okay?. I am just have to call the fire department or whatever. The whole ground's moving Screaming too ??? March 9th, 2019 Time of recording: 13:57 Origin of recording: 911 call Location: Presumably Reed family household. Date of and location of recovery: 09/11/2019, Archive of the Salvation County Emergency Hotline Foreword: The identity of the 911 operator has been excluded from the document due to its lack of relevance to the investigation. [BEGIN LOG] 911 operator: 911, what's your emergency? Hans Reed: Right…you may think I'm bullshittin' you, but…one moment… 911 operator: Excuse me? You have to tell me what is happening. [Sounds of static are heard before the phone is laid down. Faint vocalizations can be heard6] Hans Reed: Pretty sure someone's screamin' under my house! 911 operator: Understood, what is your name and adress? Hans Reed: Hans Reed, 23 Valentino Street-what? [Hans Reed can be heard arguing with someone, before the ring of doorbell can be hears] 911 Operator: Are you there, Mr. Reed? Hans Reed: Nevermind now, got someone to take care of it. 911 Operator: Are you sure, Mr. Reed? [The line cuts out] [END LOG] March 28th, 2019 Time of recording: 16:41 Origin of recording: Recovered from the phone of Michael Remini. Location: Ascension Steakhouse Date of and location of recovery: 17/07/2019, Judgement Street, Ascension Foreword: None [BEGIN LOG] [The recording begins with the camera focusing in on Gabriel Elseworth, the mayor of Ascension, talking with the unidentified preacher while sitting down at a table in front of the Ascension Steakhouse. Their conversation cannot be heard due to the distance] Michael Remini: Shit, got to get closer. [Michael places the phone in his pocket. He can be heard walking, before his phone falls out of his pocket. His hand movement suggests intent. The phone points toward the ground, while a conversation can be heard faintly heard] Gabriel Elseworth: -of course, I'm not denying that, I'm just having some reservations. What are those screams, for example, father? Unknown man: “For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor?” I tell you, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Gabriel Elseworth: But you could at least-…Okay, let me be blunt, people are getting scared of being woken up the the ground screaming and they are looking for answers. I know you have Reeds wrapped around your fingers, but the Reeds aren't the whole town. Unknown man: Oh, Mr. Elseworth, do you assume me to be some kind of charlatan? You have seen how your town has prospered, you have the gifts that God almighty has given us. And you still doubt Him. Gabriel Elseworth: I know, I know. I truly do believe this is a miracle, Father. But it's just…listen, people are spending all their time praying and going to church now, while also waking up sleepless because "something" is screaming under their beds! Children are skipping school, adults aren't going to work. We have crops and health, yes, but we're still falling like any other rural nowhere! [10 seconds of silence. The unknown man can be heard chuckling] Unknown man: I have an idea. Gabriel Elseworth: What is it, Luke?7 "Luke": Oh, let's move this somewhere more private. [Chairs can be heard moving, followed by footsteps. After a minute, the phone is picked by Michael, then turned off] [END LOG] June 14th, 2019 Time of recording: 15:03 Origin of recording: 2010 Sony Handycam DCR SR68 Location: Ascension Baptist Church. Date of and location of recovery: 19/07/2019, Ascension Baptist Church, Ascension Foreword: None [BEGIN LOG] [The recording starts with a view of the street outside the Ascension Baptist Church. Multiple cars are seen parked on the side of the road. As the camera pans towards the church, a small crowd can be seen outside it] "Luke": One at a time, please! [The camera moves towards the crowd, revealing a market stand on the other side. A sign reading "10$ per feather" can be seen, with the unidentified preacher visible behind it. Multiple bags, all open and filled with white feathers, are seen behind him. Multiple members of the crowd attempt to push each other out of the way and throw money at the stand. The unidentified peacher is seen smiling] "Luke": Amen! [END LOG] July 1st, 2019 Annie Okay Ann this has to fucking stop Ground's shaking like it's jelly Tell your parents to end this What??? Why don't YOU do that? I don't like this too but they're not gonna listen and it's clearly some kind of miracle Oh please don't say you also think that's god or something They're gonna listen to their daughter faster than me! I'm sorry. It's just What if Luke's got a point? You there, Mike? ?? July 4th, 2019 Time of recording: 21:41 Origin of recording: Recovered from the phone of Michael Remini. Location: Remini family backyard, Judgment Street, Ascension Date of and location of recovery: 17/07/2019, Judgement Street, Ascension Foreword: None [BEGIN LOG] [The recording begins with a view of fireworks being lanched by Andrew Remini, the father of Michael Remini] Andrew Remini: Wooo! [The camera turns upwards as the fireworks shoot into the air, exploding into a blue-white pattern. It returns back to the ground after their sparks dissapate, focusing on Andrew Remini as he unpacks a new set of fireworks Michael Remini: Damn, dad! How many did you get? Andrew Remini: Just enough! [A sound resembling an abnormally loud and deep human scream suppresses the noise of the celebration. Andrew stops and looks back] Michael Remini: It's fine, dad. Not like it ever does any- [The ground is suddenly seen shifting, as if something was moving under it. The camera points down and a wing can be seen briefly poking out, before returning underground. It appears to be moving in the direction of the house of the Reed family] Andrew Remini: Michael oh-okay, stay calm, alright? Michael Remini: Shit- [A much louder scream is heard, making Andrew cover his ears, before the ground around the Reed family house begins to bulge. White light can be seen behind the house, coming most likely from the excavation site behind it] Michael Remini: We need to run! [The ground suddenly bursts, before a bright light illuminates the whole area, leading the camera to captured nothing but white light as it adjusts. Humand screams can be heard] SCP-8157-1: Bassa!8 [An entity resembling a mass of eyes covered by white wings is seen in the last frames of the footage, before flames burst from its sides. The recording cuts out] [END LOG] Last relevant frame of the recording. Additional information The identity of "Father Luke", in addition to his current wherabouts, are under active investigation. It is unknown if he survived SCP-8157-ALPHA, but a single car with a covered license plate was spotted leaving Ascension an hour prior to the anomalous event. The exact location of SCP-8157-1 is unknown. The entity is presumed to reside outside of consensus reality at this moment. Footnotes 1. Typically associated with areas of importance to major world religions. 2. Commonly associated with relics of major religious importance. 3. The daughter of Hans Reed. 4. Likely John Arnolds, a blind resident of Ascension. 5. Matching the man dressed in red visible in previous footage from the Reed family backyard. 6. Audio analysis confirmed them to be a feminine voice saying "Sayet", corresponding to help in Aramaic. 7. No preacher by this name has been recorded to reside in Ascension. 8. Aramaic word meaning "enough", alternatively "stop already". |
SCP-8160 | safe | {$caption} 3/8160 LEVEL 3/8160 CLASSIFIED Item #: SCP-8160 safe Special Containment Procedures: Research initiatives within terrestrial astronomical organizations are to be monitored for any knowledge of the SCP-8160 region. If an informational breach is located, standard academic suppression tactics are to be deployed, ensuring the information is lost, its founders discredited, and the overall initiative refocused or disbanded if necessary. Description: SCP-8160 denotes an amorphous region of deep space1 which interferes with any signals, celestial bodies, or manmade apparatus that pass through its interior. Though the region has been found to be approximately spherical,2 all attempts to remotely gather information pertaining to the interior conditions of the anomaly have failed due to anomalous interference. Following the region's discovery, reconnaissance exo-ship EV1-"Grasping Destiny" has been deployed to serve as the staging ground for a series of manned interstellar scouting trips into SCP-8160. Up to date results from these exhibitions have been summarized below. A-Mission Pod Status Decommissioned Pilot Status Active Summary: Signal lost upon entry. Pilot failed to navigate to planned depth within anomaly, later citing "immediate loss of directional control" as a reason for this failure. Pod recovered 15km from drop-off point; perfect condition, non-functional. B-Mission Pod Status Active Pilot Status Retired Summary: Signal lost upon entry. Attempted preliminary tests 1 km from drop-off point, then returned after 1 hour. Upon review, all tests performed incorrectly. Pilot unable to recognize errors, relieved from duties due to anomalous reorientation. C-Mission Pod Status Decommissioned Pilot Status Deceased Summary: Signal lost upon entry. Perimeter drone view witnessed pod rapidly accelerating into anomaly. Pod found 1 month later 1357 Km from drop-off point and in a state of disrepair. Pilot lost; Starvation. No meaningful data gathered. Addendum: The following encrypted signal was captured by a foundation-operated satellite stationed outside of the Veiled sector. Metadata analysis of signal identified a matching SCP-8160-issue Manned-Autonomous Transporter3 probe model and scouting mission code, however, no records of the "Mission Zero" detailed in its contents exist within the SCiPnet database. Additionally, the mission is dated before official Foundation discovery of the phenomena. EV1-"Grasping Destiny" has since been contacted for input on this disparity: Response pending. The decrypted signal contents have been provided below. File-0MISSION/log Pilot: Theta Vessel: 0A75NN2 Summary: Reconnaissance of potential anomaly. Manned-Autonomous Transporter deployed. - Displaying automatic log… - log/auto [00:00] Null - Diagnostic sequence cleared. Requesting permission to begin mission. 00:00 - Pod Deployed. 00:05 - Course set. 01:15 - Manual override. Reason: Debris 02:05 - Approaching anomalous region. ERROR - Connection Lost. - Displaying manual log… - log/audio.1 [02:24] <+> Theta reporting. Anomalous nature confirmed with loss of remote guidance. All attempts to contact command have failed. Manual operation assumed. Nothing of interest spotted. Internal navigations remain functional, however. Interference remains within expected bounds of mission, opting to continue. End log. <-> log/audio.2 [03:13] <+> Theta reporting. The M.A.T. remains unable to secure a connection to command. Reason still unclear. Nothing new to report pertaining to anomaly. Area remains empty of any clear visual signifiers. At the least, I feel like I should be seeing more stars— if that makes sense. Sitting at 80% power reserves, so I'll be hitting the acceptable risk threshold any time now. Still no pressing issues, but will make sure to reassess at that point. End log. <-> log/audio.3 [03:38] <+> Theta reporting. Risk threshold met. Still absolutely nothing of note. Opting to terminate mission. Reverting course. End log. <-> log/audio.4 [03:42] <+> Theta reporting. Complications noted with the M.A.T.'s navigations system, entailing unclear and impossible readings that weren't obvious with prior direct course. Per standard, I ran diagnostics and nothing looks right. Power reserves have jumped back up to 90%, rendering the prior measure highly suspect, and the internal clock is moving slower than my own count, which renders that null as well. I've attempted course correction to ensure I'm going back the way I came in. Efficacy unknown on that front, hard to stay grounded when there's so few stars to anchor on. Gotta stay confident though… should have plenty juice even without a direct path. Hopefully. End log. <-> log/audio.5 [04:21] <+> Theta reporting. Manual steering module is making a persistent rattling noise. Minor issue; Hard to not focus on it, would prefer to focus on maintaining course. Remind me to have Brick take a look at it when she can. Ugh… I hate paperwork. End log. <-> log/audio.6 [04:35] <+> Theta reporting. Rapid degradation of internal clock. Could swear it's been longer than 15, but… It's hard to tell— and the rattling is really grating on me. Keeps breaking my focus, so I can't get into the zone. Maybe it has been only 15 minutes? Hoping not. Hell. End log. <-> log/audio.7 [04:44] <+> Theta reporting. This noise is killing me. I know it's been longer than what the clock says. I know that with a logical mind. But the ticking noise is just— Really throwing me off kilter, and that's letting the clock get to my head. Fucking ticking. If it doesn't stop soon. I don't know. End log. <-> log/audio.8 [4:46] <+> Theta. I'm going insane. I don't know how long it's been, I don't know how far I am from base, and I don't even know if I'm going the right direction. And this noise. I can't think because of the noise. But I'm still just… powering on forward. Blindly forward. Hoping. End log. <-> log/audio.9 [05:00] <+> It stopped. God it finally stopped. Quiet. Just me now. Still going forward. End log. <-> log/audio.10 [05:01] <+> The stars are gone. Out the front of the pod is just. Pitch. Pure. Black. They were there earlier, but I think I just… Missed them going away, because of the noise. I can't be going the right way now. Must have… gotten the turn a bit wrong back when I started. Stupid. Fucking… God. … I did a diagnostic check. The M.A.T. thinks its systems look great. Perfect even. End log. <-> log/audio.11 [05:01] <+> I'm pressing forward. Changing course would just… I've got no clue how to gauge how far I've gone at this point. It would be meaningless. Even this. It's meaningless. Waiting here, just hoping. Hoping it all works out. <-> log/audio.12 [05:01] <+> Still going. <-> log/audio.13 [05:01] <+> Pressing onward. <-> log/audio.14 [05:01] <+> Pressing onward. <-> log/audio.15 [05:01] <+> Pressing onward. <-> log/audio.16 [05:01] <+> Onward. <-> log/audio.17 [05:01] <+> Fucking hell. I don't know if there's any fuel left— If I'm going forward still, I can't tell. I don't get any feel from pressing down the ignition— power— button— whatever. No feeling. I've just stopped pushing. It's all useless. Nothing I do works. M.A.T.'s diagnostics are all lying to me. It's meaningless! Fucking nonsense! If I'm going anywhere, I'll float there. Nothing to stop me. <-> log/audio.18 [05:01] <+> It's so big out here. So easy to get lost in it all, not noticing that you're washing out to sea, like a little plank ripped off a big boat. A metal ship of my own, a metal pod, torn off the planet Earth boat. A little dot. Moving in the currents. All the work it took to get here… A dream, looking up at the stars from my room, and so many others before me that looked up, saw the same sky, and realized just how small we really were. So we escaped. And then you're up here. And it's small everywhere. <-> log/audio.19 [05:01] <+> I can— I can see something out there. Far, Far away. A tiny little dot. Ugh- I was dead. I was floating here dead- I was- I could- I… … Theta reporting. I'm still here. External body located. End log. <-> log/audio.20 [05:01] <+> Theta reporting. Slowly approaching external body. Large. Grey. Spherical. Unsure of distance, can't trust scanners. Looks like an asteroid, or planetoid, or something… empty and useless- but it's there! And I'm still here. End log. <-> log/audio.21 [05:01] <+> Theta reporting. Planetoid much larger than previously assumed. I can feel the acceleration picking up, however slight, so it has plenty gravity. Still can't make out any clear geographical features, just lots and lots of grey. Will report back in when closer. End log. <-> log/audio.22 [05:01] <+> Theta reporting. Still no clear features. Initiating landing sequence. End log. <-> log/audio.23 [05:01] <+> Theta reporting. Successful landing on the grey planetoid. Still no clear geographical features, just fields of grey as far as the eye can see. Preparing to don exo-suit for some surface exploration, but— I'm struggling a bit to stay on course with the mission, if that makes sense. I can look around, chart the place, complete the mission sure, but then I'm stuck here with all that work and it amounts to nothing, no closer to home and… I guess that's thoughts for later. Doing is living. I'm still here— and I can figure out why. End log. <-> - Loading additional logs… - log/capture.1a [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.1b [NULL] <+> [The feed begins on a shot of a wide field of grey under a flat black sky. Despite the lack of clear sources of light, the shot appears dimly lit, as if by moonlight. Theta's white gloved fingers can be seen around the frame, likely adjusting the body camera after activation.] That should be all good and functional then! Commencing planetoid excursion number 1. [Theta takes a step forward off of the pod and onto the planetoid surface, where the ground cracks and yields like a thick sponge under their weight. As the ground depresses, they step back in surprise.] Huh… [They step fully onto the planetoid surface and take a few steps, before jumping.] Gravity, seems… Normal? Earth-like? And all this… [They lean over and grab a fistful of the surface material, which breaks off in a thick airy clump, while releasing a puff of ambient dust..] I'd compare it to, maybe, super rough drier lint? Dust bunnies? Not sure. [Their hand moves up through the frame, making a wiping motion.] Can't manipulate it for too long I think, since it's releasing a lot of loose particulates. Too much and the filter will clog. [They stand still in place, rotating the clump in their offhand.] Hm. [They begin pacing in an small aimless circle.] That fact really begs the question of what to do from here, given the present limitations… Attempting to scout the area will be incredibly difficult with the limited visibility and lack of landmarks, don't want to lose ol' M.A.T. over here… and it's not just visibility, but the filter too, who knows how long- [Theta stops.] [They step back, then crouch down.] What was… [Theta digs into the spongey surface material, grabbing chunks and ripping them apart.] Could have sworn I- [As they dig into a ball of fluff, they pinch something solid, and immediately begin to brush away the surrounding fluff.] [From the clump, they uncover a metal bolt.] There. [They bring it up to their eye.] How did you ge- [Theta begins to cough.] Shit- [They stifle a coughing fit.] The filter is failing- can't talk- ill report back from the pod. <-> log/sample.1c [NULL] ITEM: Bolt NOTES: Metallic, likely steel, no visible scratches. Likely space debris, though potentially from other crashes? Would align with known properties of the region, but does everything that enters it end up here? Unsure, not something I'm able to test terrestrially, and I can't effectively search for other crash sites due to filter and navigation limitations. Digging may be an option? UPDATE: 2 screws located in surface material around pod. Digging plan secured. log/video.2a [NULL] <+> [The feed starts angled down at a small square digging site, reaching a rigid bottom. To the side, a large pile of loose surface material sits. Theta's hand waves in front of the camera.] Welcome back! As you can see I've been a bit busy digging- Doesn't look like much, but it's laborious work. Hard to stay bothered. I can't do much else. [They step down into the pit.] I had a feeling it wouldn't be squishy all the way down, but I didn't think it would get hard so fast. The stuff's already too tough for my hands! [They kneel down and tap on the surface. It makes a rough crackling noise.] As far as I can tell it's completely solid. Not sure if there's even a point to keep going, but just in case- I've got this! [They pull a metal plate from behind their back and slam the thin end into the ground.] Tore this out of M.A.T.'s interior… [They wind it back and slam the plate into the same spot.] Pretty sure it's cosmetic… [They swing again.] But it'll do the trick! [They swing again. A resounding crack sounds as a hefty chunk of material flakes out of place.] [Theta leans on the plate, panting, and slowly lowering themselves to assess the sample.] Ah… [As they move the chunk, it becomes clear that the material is a compacted form of the previously analyzed surface sample. They run their hands across it.] Figures. [They turn it over slowly, arms slack and lazily manipulating the chunk, before suddenly freezing.] [A perfectly spherical indent can be seen on the underside of the chunk.] [They trace it with their finger, before turning on their knees and crawling back to the small hole left by the chunk.] [A cloud of ambient dust clears.] [A small orb can be seen, lodged into the ground.] [Theta runs their finger over it. Clutches it, then pulls.] [It loosens.] [They sit in silence for a minute, rolling the orb around in their palm.] [Their other hand moves and covers the frame.] <-> log/sample.2b [NULL] ITEM: Marble NOTES: Clear glass with a red wisp through its center. Perfectly intact, no scratches or chips. Sorta nostalgic, how it looks. Makes me think back to shopping trips when I was young, it's type you'd get in a bag from the toy store, a bunch for cheap, so it seems a bit strange to see one all alone. But that's not really relevant. How is it here? Why is it here? Are there more? I'm sure if I can figure that out I'll know why I'm here. In the meantime, I need to do more digging. log/capture.3a [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.3b [NULL] <+> [The feed opens on the wide grey fields surrounding the pod. A dozen additional plots can be seen] Hello again- Significant progress on the digging front. Will get to categorizing what I've found shortly, but I'm really getting somewhere. I just need to sit down, get my thoughts together- I'm sure this will all make sense soon. [They look down into a fresh pit.] Small side-note: I've noticed something, doing all this work. That no matter what… I don't feel. Hungry. Tired. Anything… and I'm not really sure what to make of that. It's probably just the anomaly messing with me like it did with M.A.T., I know, but it's getting hard to force my reserve meals down. Ugh… No clue how long I’ve been sleeping either. [The view turns to the horizon, where an opaque cloud can be seen approaching slowly.] Can't dwell on that. Bad stuff on the way. Lots of work to do. <-> log/sample.3c [NULL] ITEMs: Toy Cars (5); Jacks (6); Colored Bricks (4); Tacs (2); Screws/Bolts (5); Misc Pens/Pencils (7); Other (3) NOTES: Various small, replaceable, or inconsequential objects. Manmade, all in perfect condition, except that the writing on each is muddled/blurred. Notable outlier: A scrap of paper. I'd guess it was blank printer paper, graph paper, something like that. No writing- wouldn't be able to read it if there was. I'm sure there's a pattern here. I need to find more. Or just something to connect it all together. But no- new finds are getting rarer and rarer, and what new stuff I do find is more of the same. I can't go on like this. Aimless. Not making any progress. I've got to find a new spot to dig. log/video.4 [NULL] <+> [The feed begins from the top a small hill. A line of footsteps can be seen trailing down it and off into the distance, where it eventually connects to the drop pod impact zone.] Theta reporting- Gone quite the distance- but we can still see M.A.T. just about down there. [They turn around, revealing vast plains of grey on the other side of the hill.] It's all dust. Everything, as far as the eye can see. [Theta puts their hands to their face, mimicking binoculars.] To be frank, the eye can only see so far. I'll have to note that the haze is getting thicker on the horizon. [They turn, scanning their surroundings.] Slightly deflating. I mean, ideally, my next digging spot isn't just a random plot in the wastes, but if it comes to it… [Theta leans forward slightly. A rigid gray mass can be seen at a distance.] Maybe it won't come to that. I've spotted something that isn't a mound. Will report back shortly. [Theta begins to walk in the direction of the mass.] <-> log/video.5a [NULL] <+> [The feed opens facing a wall of gray.] Theta reporting- It's a bust. [Theta steps back, pulling their hand from inside the wall. The mass is just an abnormally tall mound of dust.] Not settled over anything either, just a bunch of dust that managed to fall weird. [They turn around and crouch down. The ambient haze of dust visibly thicker.] I came from that direction, but as you can see, The hill isn't visible anymore. Got a bit too focused again, I suppose. Shouldn't be too hard to get back to M.A.T. if I start walking now but… [They look up. Thick clouds of dust shift and warp, rolling across the horizon and piling up into the sky.] It's almost beautiful- no, entrancing. Sitting here, watching the dust build and dance on the horizon, knowing it could pick up at any moment, and swallow me whole. Buried, rather than whatever I'm doing now. Much… simpler. [They look back in the direction of their camp.] But I can't. M.A.T.'s waiting for me, and I've got a mission to complete. I can think on my next steps once I'm back safe inside. [They start walking back to their camp.] <-> log/capture.5b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.6 [NULL] <+> [Theta stands in a wide clearing. It is identical to their landing point seen in the initial video logs.] [They look around the area for a few minutes, somewhat meandering at first, then becoming increasingly frantic, opting to start digging random holes in the ground, until the area is littered with loose spongey surface material.] [Theta stands back and stands in silence for a minute.] It's gone. I- It couldn't have possibly gone anywhere but- M.A.T.'s gone. All my work, my research. So much effort, so much time. Everything I had, everything I was working towards and I was so so so close. How will I- [Theta puts a hand up to their head.] I'm screwed. I'm totally screwed. Just one bad storm and… Gone. You never existed- just like M.A.T. [They crouch down, both hands over their face.] Think. Think. Just think. What do you do now. How do you move forward. [They shake their head and look at the smattering of holes around them.] Digging didn't work. Digging was useless. Got M.A.T. lost and buried, but you made it out fine, because you were elsewhere. You kept moving. [They stand.] So keep on moving. [They begin to walk] <-> log/video.7a [NULL] <+> [The feed opens on a field of grey, different to the prior clearing. It is unclear how much time has passed between logs.] [Theta walks in a straight line. The scenery is homogeneous.] [8 hours of footage omitted.] [The feed fails.] <-> log/capture.7b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.8a [NULL] <+> [The feed flickers in.] [Theta is walking on autopilot as they crest the top of a tall hill of dust, revealing a the edges of a small crater nestled in the elevated terrain. As the entire space becomes visible, a tall grey mass can be seen at its bottom.] [Theta stops.] [A moment passes as they return to themselves, then idly press a button on the recorder.] Theta reporting- Unexpected, but I've located a point of interest while traveling across the surface… Approaching. [Theta begins to slowly descend the crater.] It appears to be some sort of pillar… [Their pace quickens slightly.] And something else… Yes- there's something is hanging from it… [Theta arrives at the anomaly, stopping.] [They study it. They are standing in front of a grey tree. Hanging from its thickest branch is a triplet of ropes, together holding up a tire.] [They near the trunk, run their hand against it then tap it.] Petrified. [They divert their attention to the tire, reaching out a hand. They squeeze it, and it bends, sounding a taut stretching noise.] I wonder… [Theta puts both their hands on the tire, then pushes. A small creak echoes.] [Theta takes their weight off the tire. Another creak.] Well… [Theta sits on the tire. The branch creaks again, louder, but after a few seconds, the weigh has clearly held.] How interesting… Though I guess if you're taking the effort to anomalously move a tree, you'd hope it would still work. [Theta pauses for a few seconds.] [They reach into the interior of the tire, feeling around the inside before pulling out a small pocket knife.] And of course you're still here. [They look over to the tree and stand, walking over.] [They walk around the tree, scanning up and down dutifully, then stop.] [They point their knife at a small carving comprised of five slices in a star shape, a circle with a line through it, and a small stick figure standing on its edge.] I didn't forget. [The feed flickers.] [Theta kneels down, then carves a second stick figure on the edge of the larger circle.] [They click the pocket knife closed] [The feed fails.] <-> log/capture.8b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.9a [NULL] <+> [The feed flickers in.] [Theta is sitting at the base of the tree, studying their pocket knife. Every few seconds they click it open, close it, then click it open again, and close it.] [They click it closed one last time then let out a sigh, pushing themselves up to standing, then idly pressing a button on the recorder.] Storm on the horizon. Not sure what to do when it hits, and it's definitely coming this way… [They click the knife open and closed.] It would be such a massive shame to lose this point of interest after such a miraculous discovery, but if there's anything I need to continue this mission, it's my life- Keep moving, keep walking, etcetera. Hm… [They look up. Amongst the barren branches, a mass of grey wooden boards can now be seen in the form of a treehouse. Additionally, a small trail of planks leads up the side of the tree, installed haphazardly with a mix of bent and unbent nails.] [Theta pauses.] Noting the incidence of anomalous activity in my immediate vicinity. [They step back a few steps.] Per protocol, opting to disengage until further observations can be made. [They begin to circle the tree.] Seems identical, minus the new additions, but I can't say for sure… [They stop and focus on a section of the ladder which sits right on top of where the carving had been.] Though I do know one way to check… [They slowly approach the foot of the ladder, pocket knife in hand. Nothing unexpected occurs.] Alrighty then… [They wedge the knife behind the plank, and begin to pry it back. As soon as they start, a small shred of something falls from the crack.] What is- [Theta moves to pick it up.] Paper? [One side is smeared with black ink. The other is blank. Theta stares at it for a long moment.] [They quickly stow the shred in their exo-suit pocket and turn around.] Storms closing in… [They look up.] It's dubious, but this new treehouse would provide good shelter from the storm. I'd prefer any other option… [They check the storm again, the body of which is nearing the edge of the crater.] But this'll have to do. [Theta turns and begins to climb the shoddy ladder. With each step up, the plank shakes, slides, or otherwise shifts under their weight, then reaching the last few blocks, push their way through a loose trapdoor and into the room.] [The interior of the treehouse is relatively spacious and the walls and floor are well laid and smooth. Covering the floor at the center of the room is a wide chalk circle, approximately 2 meters in diameter.] Bigger than I expected… [Theta walks the perimeter, pushing against the exterior wall. A light buffeting of dust can be heard from outside.] Sturdy too… [Theta backs a few steps toward the center of the room, but suddenly stops, bumping into something. They quickly turn, but nothing is there.] [They reach a hand out. It hits an invisible barrier.] Wha- [They crouch down. They are standing at the edge of the chalk circle.] Weird… [As they prod the line, they notice a small glass orb with a wisp of red through its center sitting at its center.] I thought I left you with M.A.T.? [Theta walks around the edge of the circle, attempting to push through, but cannot.] [They pause for a moment.] Oh- It's. It's a game of marbles. Of course it is. [Theta opens the storage pocket on the exterior of their exo-suit. Sitting next to the knife inside the pocket is a small grey marble.] [They pause again. The noise of the storm's heavy winds creaking the tree's branches fill the silence.] He was always better- but its worth a shot. [Theta makes a fist around their thumb with their left hand, before positioning the marble above their thumb.] [With a small click, the marble launches from their hand towards the marble in the center of the room. They collide with a loud clack, rolling apart from each other, but not escaping the circle.] [Theta's demeanor deflates as the marbles settle into place.] Shit. [A crack sounds as a board breaks off the wall. Theta recoils.] Shit. [More and more boards begin to peel off of every surface of the house. Theta begins to move to escape, but hesitates.] [They turn to look at the marbles in the circle.] [Another board breaks off from the ceiling, nearly colliding with Theta's head.] [They shake their hesitation and run to the hatch, swinging it open, and lowering themselves into a cloud of dust.] [As they descend, dodging a pair of planks that fall from above, they hear a strange and sharp noise.] [They rifle through the debris at the base of the tree, grab something, then begin to run.] [As they make distance, they peer back at the tree, watching as the shadow of the treehouse melts away.] [They reach the edge of the crater, where the storm is slightly calm, and catch their breath.] [They look at the object in their hand. They are holding a small blue and green marble.] [Theta holds it tight, then begins to cry.] [The feed fails.] <-> log/capture.9b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.10a [NULL] <+> [The feed flickers in.] [Theta is walking aimlessly through a dust plain. The haze of dust is thick, limiting visibility up to a few meters. Nearby, a small figure with three legs can be seen shadowed by the haze. Theta approaches it.] [As they near, it is revealed to be a small telescope sitting atop a blanket covered in small pillows, all coated in a thick layer of dust.] [Theta steps onto the blanket.] [They sit down, cross legged, and put their eye to the telescope.] [After a moment, they frown.] I know I shouldn't be able to see anything, period, I don't know why I was expecting otherwise… [Theta looks up.] I'm getting too used to anomalous occurrences. [They open their exo-suit storage pocket and takes out the blue and green marble.] [They position the marble in front of the telescope with their hand, and looks through it.] [Theta chuckles to themselves.] [Theta stands, then removes the telescope from the tripod. In their hands, it looks smaller than it had been.] [The ambient dust flares up around their feet, reducing visibility dramatically.] [The dust settles, and the blanket is gone.] [The feed fails.] <-> log/capture.10b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.11a [NULL] <+> [The feed flickers in.] [Theta is wandering while studying a shred of paper. Absently, they step on a rock, slipping. The shred escapes their grip.] [They follow the shred with their eyes as the get back to their feet, stepping forward, and watch as it works its way into a large hole in the surface.] [Theta pauses, and idly presses a button on their recorder.] Theta reporting- I have located a subsurface cave… Given my inability to dig much previously, this could provide invaluable evidence to the mission. Entering shortly. [They approach the hole. The entrance is approximately their height, they have no trouble maneuvering through the gap as they enter, descending below the planet surface.] [The walls are thick with compact dust, growing more and more solid as they gain depth. The trail, however, ends uneventfully, as Theta stumbles upon a sudden dead end, flat and smooth.] [They feel their hand across the wall, then tap it, which elicits a hollow echo. After a few additional taps on different parts of the wall, they take a step back.] There's something in there. I know it- Don't make me regret this. [Theta charges at the dead end.] [The wall yields to them and they fall through the new gap, hitting solid ground.] [After a moment, Theta recovers their balance and stands.] [Theta is in a small kitchen, far walls lined with counters and cupboards framing a central kitchen table that is coated in dust.] [They run their finger across the table as they round it, nearing a cupboard and opening it.] [They pull, and it resists them, sealed by disuse. They pull again and it slams open, releasing a rush of rust and stale air.] [They move to a drawer, then another cupboard, each yielding similar results. Empty of substance, full of dust.] [Theta notices a drawer in the far corner, conspicuously clean compared to the others, and walks over.] [They put their hand on the handle, but pause, hesitating.] [They shake the hesitation and pull. It doesn't budge.] [They pull harder.] Hm. [They retrieve their knife from their pocket and flick it open, before jamming it into the small gap around the drawer.] [As they work the knife around the edge, it cuts through like paper, fully disconnecting the front of the drawer.] [Theta crouches.] [Inside the drawer sits a single piece of paper. The paper is scrawled across in smeared black ink, and an additional splash of blood red in the top right corner.] [Theta stares at the page for a moment, unmoving.] [Their grip on their knife tightens. They take a deep breath.] [They suddenly grab the page, taking it in both hands shredding it over and over again until each composite piece is the size of confetti and littering the ground.] [Theta leans against the countertop, and looks around.] [A distant noise can be heard. Rustling, like paper. Soon, the noise is surrounding them.] [A piece of paper falls from the ceiling.] [In moments, the room begins to dissolve into paper, walls, floor, and furniture alike. Theta springs to action, finding their footing on the weakened floor and stepping toward their improvised opening, rapidly closing, across the room.] [As Theta begins to run, their left foot breaks through the floor, tripping them. As they wrestle their leg from the hole, their focus darts to the entrance, which continues to get smaller.] [Theta quickly clambers to standing as the table at center of the room collapses. Simultaneously, they notice the ceiling beginning to concave, bulging downward to cut off their escape.] [Theta flinches then changes direction, lunging to their side and barreling through the collapsed table.] [Swiftly they gain momentum and begin to charge at the entrance once more, bursting through the wall as the room disappears behind them.] [The view fills with dust as theta scampers up the cavern, breaks the surface, then turns.] [The cave no longer exists.] [The feed fails.] <-> log/capture.11b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.12a [NULL] <+> [The feed flickers in.] [Theta is walking in a daze. A few meters in front of them, the ground begins to angle downward sharply into a large crater. As they mindlessly walk, they misstep on the edge of the crater and trip harshly forward.] [As they hit the ground the floor crunches, popping their storage pocket open and emptying its contents out onto the ground, then begin to roll down the sharp incline of the crater.] [Theta notices the objects and tries to crawl towards them, but due to they incline of the craters they are forced into a precarious run, which shortly turns to them falling down into the crater themselves.] [As they tumble, they continue to attempt to reach for the objects, which at first were rolling, but now appear to bob, almost buoyant. It becomes apparent that Theta is sinking, half above ground as they thrash, the motion of which is churning up pages that were sitting just bellow the dust. They shoot into the air, sheets of white, sheets smattered in ink, then fall back down, sliding about Theta's body like a thick, crunching, and crackling stream.] [Theta and their objects have been caught in a tide of circular motion, a whirlpool of dust and paper and trinkets all being funneled down into center the crater. Theta looks wildly in every direction, desperately tracking each of their objects whilst staying afloat. Their arms spin as they fight the tide, pushing, swimming up the side of the crater and looking back every other second. As each passes, their things are getting further and further away, down deeper into the crater, and closer to swirling abyss at its core. They notice the path their objects follow. A trail painted in ink. A line shifting as the liquid-pages move, but always clear- connected across their surfaces. Uncountable pages interlocking in a perfect spiral of patterned ink, pointing down, leading down, into a dark whirling splotch at the center.] [In moments, Theta can no longer see their objects. They reach back desperately and shout.] Matty! [Theta fights the tide, in stalemate. They paddle desperately, circling the crater, and though they aren't losing ground, they aren't gaining it either.] [As more time passes, their movements start getting slower. And with their paddling less powerful, they start to lose ground.] [They begin to move down the spiral, following the line writ in ink and paper. It drags them in slowly, still fighting, but their strength is long drained. Now, they are barely treading water, committing more of their mind to staying afloat and none to to attempting to escape the crater.] [Theta's arms turn rigid. Every movement elicits a pained grunt. Though they are sputtering, they want to fight. Heaving, they want to escape. Pleading, they want to live.] [They want to last.] [Forever.] [Then their head goes under.] [The sound of rustling pages picks up louder and louder as Theta picks up speed, spinning, coughing, lungs full of dust, losing track of which way is up and down.] [It's getting darker. More and more pages drenched with ink, so that the rare white spot glows like a beam of light, or a lone star in the sky.] [A lone glimmer crosses the view.] [Then it is black.] [For a moment, it appears that Theta is floating in a dark void, gently floating in nothingness, desperately tired, and shaking.] [This is not the case. Theta is falling.] [The feed fails.] <-> log/capture.12b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE log/video.13a [NULL] <+> [The feed flickers into view.] [Amidst the darkness, a slight glimmer can be seen far down in the direction Theta is falling.] [Theta moves to cover their eyes, but freezes as the surroundings come alight with little white specks, with more flickering into view by the moment. In short time, countless specks have filled the area around the original speck, itself growing in intensity by the moment, allowing its color to clarify into a faint blue and green hue.] [What once was a speck of light rapidly becomes an orb as Theta nears, straining as they reach their arms far out towards it.] [The orb grows larger and larger, glows brighter and brighter, and Theta's strain to grasp it follows in intensity.] [Blue and green light encompasses the view.] [A murky squelch is heard, and the frame goes dark.] [The view pivots.] [The colored light is gone, leaving Theta knee and hands deep in an impossibly dark tar. Their hands can barely be seen as they wrestle them out of the substance. Starting a short distance away, they notice countless little white finger bones poking out of the bog, glinting as they struggle.] [Theta attempts to move their legs and fails. They are stuck.] [After another scan of their surroundings, they fixate on a point just in front of them in the muck, where, just out of reach, sits a blue and green marble, sinking.] [They look to their sides again before wildly digging in their immediate vicinity, splashing a small amount of the viscous liquid on the view.] [They pause, right arm deep in the tar.] [They pull. Something moves.] [They pull again, first wresting a bony, muck covered hand out of the bog. Following the motion, a layer of filth oozes back, revealing the upper half of a human skeleton.4] [They stare at the remains for a moment, lingering on the face, before setting it down on the surface.] [They look around at the flat plain of darkness around them, then back down at the bone white skeletons they'd just unearthed, sinking.] I'm sorry Matty. I couldn't do it. [They lay down.] [Deep black ooze edges into view from all sides as Theta's hand feebly reaches up, extends forward, then falls.] [It lands on a bony hand, fingers interlocking.] <-> log/capture.13b [NULL] AUTOMATIC M.A.T. CAPTURE Submechanophobia Anthology 2024 Frigophobia Footnotes 1. The general location of which is outlined above. 2. Possessing a radius of 3500 km when measured externally. 3. M.A.T. 4. Unidentified. |
SCP-8166 | safe | "Had it been I in that fruitful garden, I would not have let Sin enter the world." He believed those words the day he first thought them, and still did the day he fell. . AstersQuill, FlyPurgatorio, and sailorenoch SCP-8166: Eastward of Eden Authors: AstersQuill - Author Page FlyPurgatorio - Author Page sailorenoch - Art Page "Why did they eat that forbidden fruit? Why did they hunger for knowledge and throw us all from Paradise? Had it been I in that fruitful garden, I would not have let Sin enter the world." He believed those words the day he first thought them, and still did the day he fell. Item#: 8166 Level4 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: caution link to memo Assigned Site N/A Site Director N/A Research Head Senior Researcher Luca Armaros Assigned MTF RTF Eta-7 "Mightier Than the Sword" Assigned Site N/A Site Director N/A Research Head Senior Researcher Luca Armaros Assigned MTF RTF Eta-7 "Mightier Than the Sword" SCP-8166 in a dormant state. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8166 is currently contained within the Global Occult Coalition's (GOC) EDEN Complex, located 2 km from St. Blazey, Cornwall, England. Due to significant threats to the Veil posed by SCP-8166’s activation, Foundation personnel are to work in tandem with GOC security elements to research effective long term containment procedures. Personnel tasked with exploring SCP-8166-1 are to be supplied with standard biohazard suits and cognitohazard suppressants. All personnel assigned to SCP-8166 are to be monitored for hermeneutic affliction. To limit the spread of outside contaminants to both SCP-8166-1 and SCP-8166-2, exploring personnel are to be quarantined within SCP-8166-1 until containment objectives are fulfilled. Containment of SCP-8166-3 is no longer necessary following its termination. Description: At the time of this article's creation, SCP-8166 has been activated by GOC thaumaturges during a routine inspection of low-threat anomalous items. SCP-8166 is a music box formerly possessed by PoI-1875, Hans Christian Andersen, a Danish author known for writing fairy tales and suspected thaumaturge. It is decorated with a medallion of a crane bird and the inscription "Eden". A photo of SCP-8166-1 taken by a drone. When opened, SCP-8166 releases a small crane bird automaton which beats its wings and plays a musical tune that has been classified as a spiral-class hermeneutic.1 Direct reproductions of the tune possess no anomalous effects. If activated, SCP-8166 creates a hermeneutic bridge between baseline reality and SCP-8166-1, an idyllic natural reality covered in vast fields, rivers, and forests. SCP-8166-2 is the collective designation for all living beings found within the confines of SCP-8166-1. A full index of confirmed sentient creatures is available upon request, although no definitive signs of sapience has yet been discovered. SCP-8166-3 was an entity connected to the gate structure manifested during the activation, and has been neutralised upon contact with the GOC. Prologue A Melody Unwinding Not many things happen only once upon a time, no matter how big and bold they are. But this story certainly began a long time ago. Time has passed slowly for the ancient guardian since he started his Watch. He no longer stood tall, bright and brazen against the darkening skies as he had once on that fateful day. The heaviness of the armour forged onto him had grown a crook in his back, a scowl on his brow, and a rasp in his throat, as years had turned to decades, and decades to a century and more. One does what one must to push the gears of time forward on those long and lonely nights. The knight of fallen glory walks the winding paths through the Assistens Kirkegård, tracing the steps he had taken so many times before between the growths of living landscape and the stones of the dead. This is where the old guard would visit his old friend. Vort Jordliv her er Evighedens Frø The man who held Watch buries his face behind his scarf, pushing his hands deeper in his pockets as the cold winds brush by. His fingers find the object he’d carried with him ever since that fateful day, in a land far, far away from here. A burden he had chosen to take up, before he'd known the price. It was by no means an elegant instrument, worn from the years of work and carry. But what use is elegance in the hands of one that knows only war? Truly, the Guardian could feel remnants of its blazing might. It was still engraved with the initials of a man he had met in a lifetime that no longer felt like his own, the Storyteller who had left his mark, and not just on him. Instinctively, he reaches for the inscription on its side, feeling the letters through the grime. H.C.A. He closes his eyes, frozen in time like a statue among the stone. A part of him had died that day, carried away and forgotten by the wind and empty promises. His wistful thoughts are interrupted as he hears it call to him in the night; a melody that had long been forgotten to him: From four corners carried on the wind; He who bears the sword: atone for your sins; Return, return the peace to Eden. His eyes grow wide. His fingers clasp the pen as he turns on the gravel, footprints widening with every step until they disappear. His heart soars with a vigilance he thought he had forgotten as his wings feel the breeze. The winds had finally returned to him. The Gates were opening. ➹ ➸ ➹ SCP-8166 was part of a collection of items seized by the GOC from an underground auction, and subjected to protocol FORFATTER due to Andersen's status as a suspected thaumaturgic practitioner. During evaluation, SCP-8166 was opened but did not activate, and no anomalous attributes were registered. Foundation review of the footage preceding the confrontation with SCP-8166-3 shows a GOC thaumaturge humming SCP-8166's melody in a slightly different key. Sprays of salt pepper the angel as he soars over torrid sea, passing shipyards and oil rigs as he crosses landmarks and shorelines. The wild waters give way for city life and countryside, for creatures and critters roaming paths and meadows, and the old warrior can't help but remember a place, a time, where he was one of them. These thoughts disappear as quickly as they came. The song calls to him, calls him back to a land beyond reach, to a time beyond our own. With each rooftop and tree he passes, he can feel its pull on him grow stronger, bringing him to where he needs to be. Where he belongs. The Guardian’s gaze shifts to a compound in the distance. His wings, once grand and bright, glow dimly as he cuts through the air. He watches as figures, barely taller than toy soldiers cast from tin and misguided ideals, look up to him. Their commands are wasted on him. There is only one he answers to. "My soul is weary, but my heart is eager. Kindred soul, replenish my strengths, so I may ignite." He watches as their shouts are replaced by cracks and flashes of light at the ends of muzzles. Their projectiles whizz hopelessly past him. He uncaps his pen, unleashing the curved blade burning with an eternal blaze. The darkened night sky ignites once more. He descends upon them. ➹ ➸ ➹ On October 19th, 1999, GOC Strike Team "Lancelot" was dispatched in response to an attack on the EDEN Complex by a thaumaturgical entity, suspected to be related to the unplanned SCP-8166 activation. GOC field reports describe SCP-8166-3 as a humanoid with four radiant wings, wielding a sword of fire. The once bright and blazen warrior wills himself upright as he towers over his fallen foes. His mind is sharper than it had been in decades, movements lighter than a breeze, but his body aches; it was still that same frame that had carried him through the Garden, once upon a lifetime ago. There is only so much a man can hold. As he cleaves his way through the compound, reaching for that moment his life had been stretched out to reach, he hears the melody. A little music box playing a song that could bridge worlds and carry him to the only home he wished for. It conjures visions of days past and future, all in that endless plane of wonder. Just for a moment he could believe he sees a woman, clothed with the sun, with stars in her eyes and a crown of mighty antlers, reaching out to him from beyond her grave. Our life here on earth is the seed of eternity. Oh, what he would’ve given for one more breath in that Garden, one more moment in her presence. His eyes tear up. That was not his role to play. Behind him, he hears the heavy footfalls of boots in mud. He turns as he takes his place beside the Gate, his flaming sword readied. "This is not your call to answer. Leave, or face your fate." They pause, guns trained on the Mighty Force of Fire. He smiles, but not at them; the warmth at his back rekindles his resolve. They call out for peace, but he does not answer. Perhaps there would’ve been days he’d accept their olive branch and promise for rest, once upon the long ages that passed. He lunges forward, flaming steel cutting ribbons through armour and flesh, and they fall like he wished he had. But as his sword rips towards the last man, the one who was yet to fall, he hears the melody trill in his mind. A Sour Note distorts his vision. The world shrinks around him as his thrust is answered with buckshot. The sting of hundreds of pellets pierce his side first, his chest second. He makes one final motion to strike, one final look at the Gate he promised to guard oh so long ago, before his Watch comes to an end. And so, the Guardian falls at the Gates of Paradise. After neutralisation, SCP-8166-3's remains were examined by GOC specialists and Foundation researchers, determining that it was of Southwest Asian descent and approximately 200 years old. Aside from age and abilities displayed during the confrontation, no additional anomalous characteristics were identified. The gateway created by SCP-8166 remained open following the death of SCP-8166-3. Initial unmanned explorations into SCP-8166-1 found that it was safe for human exploration, and an expedition was approved. Act 1 Mud and Bone «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Log - 01» Personnel Present: Senior Researcher Luca Armaros, RTF Eta-7; Agent Ukulele, Strike Team "Lancelot". «Begin Log» <A video camera clicks on, revealing a small boat with a figure clad in a yellow biohazard suit. The figure leans against the side, intermittently taking samples of the water and collecting clumps of algae from the lake's surface. A grunt can be heard behind the camera.> Ukulele: You gonna paddle or are you just gonna be dead weight? Armaros: Relax, Agent. Take it all in. There is no need to rush our observation. Ukulele: Dead weight it is. Splendid. Armaros: Are you not even a little intrigued? The promise of the Garden, of a long-lost Paradise on Earth right within reach, and all you can do is grumble? Ukulele: I've seen enough self-proclaimed gods, angels, and devils in my time. Big and bloated tales, always ends the same. I'll stick to the job. <Armaros crosses his arms, a frown on his face. He eyes Ukulele's holster.> Ukulele: There’s no way you’re actually buying this whole Paradise spiel? Armaros: In a world as wondrous as ours, there might just be a chance of Heaven. It’s not that hard to believe in that possibility, is it? Ukulele: You religious, I take it? Armaros: On occasion. I dated an eschatologist some time back. Ukulele: A what-now? Armaros: He studied the end times as dictated by Scripture. He’d read Enoch to me while I was writing my thesis. <He smiles.> Even called me his "Angel in Heaven". Ukulele: Charmer. <The expression on Armaros’ face falls.> Armaros: Now that I think of it — given the context he might've meant we were doomed to fall. Ukulele: He dumped you using Scripture? That’s rough, mate. <Armaros stares into the distance for a moment.> Armaros: Men… <He shakes his head.> Either way, it’s just a hobby for me now. A bit of comfort on long, lonely nights. <He pauses.> What about you? I take it that the renowned Agent Ukulele isn’t a believer? Ukulele: Was raised to be one. Mum was – I don’t even know what it was. She started off as Catholic, but collected all kinds of spiritual beliefs along the way. Little bits and bobs she added on top. I decided to go the opposite direction. Armaros: God-killer rather than god-worshipper? Ukulele: Are you trying to be cute? Armaros: You have a reputation, Agent. One for action rather than dialogue. A reminder: we have a duty here to explore and, if needed, contain the anomaly. We’re observers, first and foremost. Ukulele: Yeah, yeah. I read the same mission brief. If you’re gonna be like this the whole time, I might just end myself right here and now. Armaros: You brought the equipment for it. <Armaros gestures to the firearm on Ukulele’s belt.> Ukulele: That’s what you’re on about? It’s bog-standard expedition gear. Armaros: This is not one of your usual blood hunts. I know what you and your ilk have been doing to Reality Benders lately, Agent. I hope for both of our sakes you keep that thing in its holster. Ukulele: Sod off, it's just a precaution. You can thank me later when I save your sorry arse. Keep your delicate hands clean for your little bird doodles. <Armaros scoffs, but doesn't respond. The two men sit in silence as the boat reaches the shore.> Ukulele: I'll round the island and approach from the east. Meet you back here at 1900 hours. You think you can manage that? Armaros: Certainly, Agent. But I'll be sure to radio you when my "sorry arse" needs saving. <Ukulele pushes the boat back towards the water, preparing to take off.> Ukulele: (Under his breath) Wanker. «Break» - 𝄡 - And so, the Dissonant Chord stands alone on the shore of a vast, new land. A verdant expanse stretches itself out before him, filled with fruit and flower never seen or even imagined by a human mind. Songbirds chime and dart throughout the air, small rodents run their races, and even the indigo rivers were alive with piscine creatures caught in watery dances. But none of this could touch the Hunter's hardened heart, for he still believes there was a fantasy to pierce through; a façade held up by tricksters and gods. Truly, the Hunter thought, truly this is nothing more than a gilded prison. He would not walk alone for much longer, for in the quiet of the underbush hides a creature of the forest, and her curiosity had been caught. A Nymph, more deer than human, raised as the former but longing for the sense of the latter, watches as the Hunter begins to traverse her domain. The winds spoke of change, of storms and whirlwinds and an End, and Reverie was intrigued. She'd never experienced an End before, and couldn't fathom the weight that word would carry. But as the clouds grew overcast in the sky, so grew her desire to learn more. «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Log - 01» Personnel Present: Agent Ukulele. «Continued» <The camera jolts and sways as Ukulele makes his way through a patch of vines. The greens and brown of the forest are intermittently interrupted by streaks of yellow rubber.> Ukulele: This is utter bollocks. Why the hell do we need to wear these bloody suits? Armaros: (Through radio) This is our kind of precaution, Ukulele. Preventing the possibility of death and contamination, rather than causing it – must be hard to get your GOC head around. <Ukulele walks a little further, his hazmat suit getting stuck on a branch. He pulls it loose and curses.> Armaros: (Through radio) It should just be for today, finalising our environmental data collection. <He pauses> I am going radio silent for a moment. Ukulele: (Muttering) Don’t threaten me with a good time. <He continues down the clearing. The loud screeches of a bird makes him look upwards, frantically searching for the source of the sound. He tries to pull back the hood of his hazmat suit to extend his vision.> Ukulele: Fucking Foundation protocols — bloody ridiculous is what it is. Labcoat with a damned saviour complex. If this is Paradise, I don’t want to know what Hell is like. <As he’s still looking up, he missteps and stumbles over the exposed root of a tree and loses his balance. From the bushes nearby, a human-like squeak is heard> Ukulele: Who is there?! <He places his hand on his holster> Show yourself! <A tall figure steps out from behind a tree and smiles. The camera feed momentarily defocusses, until the Reality Stabilisation Filter kicks in. Antlers grow from a feminine face, flanked by large ears that occasionally flick in response to a far off noise. Her otherwise humanoid body ends in long, furry legs and hooved feet. She moves forward quickly but carefully, avoiding insects and plants with each step.> ???: Oh dear, are you alright? Ukulele: What? I’m fine, just– <The deer-woman pushes him gently to the side and bends down to the forest floor. With great care she picks up a butterfly with a bent wing, lying directly next to Ukulele’s boot. She brushes over the wing, flattening it out, before placing the butterfly on a branch.> ???: I think you didn’t do lasting hurt this time. Ukulele: This time? You know who I am? ???: Of course! The knight in shining armour, bright and brazen. Although I imagined it being more– <She pushes against the surface of the hazmat suit.> ???: Sturdy. Like bark, maybe? Ukulele: Can you stop that? <She doesn’t. Instead, she starts prodding at Ukulele’s torso.> ???: Your wind called you Ukulele. Ukulele: My wind — you mean my radio? <She doesn’t answer the question, but pokes against his visor.> ???: All my winds call me something different, too. Words from where they travelled, sounds they found that suited me. <She hums a short melody.> Winding worlds, our little Reverie. Hold, hold dearly the gift of Eden. Ukulele: That's quite enough. Step back, or I will have to take action. <She tilts her head at Ukulele’s remark, then takes a step back.> Ukulele: Reverie, that’s your name? Reverie: You’re not what I imagined humans were like. But then again, that’s half the fun. You can wind and unwind the world, too, can you not? <She looks down to Ukulele’s hand, still resting on the holster. For a moment, the camera defocusses the same way as before. Ukulele looks back up before the Filter stabilises the feed.> Ukulele: H-how — Reverie: This is a place of creation. Ukulele: Oh, I've heard this shite before. And what are you, the creator? Reverie: Why would you think that? Ukulele: That's usually how the story goes. Some Type Green getting high off their own supply, huffing their own — what are you doing? <Reverie has taken Ukulele's hand, her fingers tracing the rubber of his glove.> Reverie: Trying to find out how the story goes. <The white patches on her fur, as well as her eyes and antlers all begin to emit a pearlescent radiance. Ukulele tries to pull his hand back, but it seems locked in a streak of light, drawn around his wrist.> Reverie: Once upon a time — «Break» —there was a Hunter, a ruffian who roamed the fringes of a world he'd never reside in himself. When the townsfolk saw him, they saw his weapon first, and his mask second. He wore it for their ease, for his face had been torn and carved up by the monsters he had fought. At least, that's what he'd tell them under amber lamplight. He had heeded a call not truly given to him: slay the monsters that haunt the earth. The green dragons, most of all, for they were tricksters and traitors to the only world he called real. His blade would await them, a tool stained as crimson as the very blood that flowed through his veins. The dragon's mark was an infection, and there was no cure. So he would travel the lands, coating his sword in suffering. The townsfolk would celebrate his return, marvel at the grime on his mask and the gauntlets painted in gore, a gruesome price he'd willingly let others pay for a world that stayed within the lines of reason. Then he'd slip away, fading from town like a whisper before his triumph could be celebrated with him. Only in his solitary wanderings, in the lonely fields and wastelands did he dare to remove his mask. Only then would the reflections in puddles and lakes catch the image of the greatest trickster amongst them — not a Hunter's face mangled by horrors and dangers, but the scales of a green dragon itself. «Continued» Reverie: So much hurt and loneliness. <Ukulele pulls his hand back and grabs his gun, releasing the safety.> Ukulele: I will fucking shoot! <He looks down at his weapon, noticing his hand is shaking. He steadies it with his other hand.> Ukulele: What on earth did you do to me?! Reverie: I did nothing but tell your story. Why does it shock you so much? <She steps a little closer, her head tilted. Her fur has returned to its neutral colour, and her ears are once again flicking in the wind.> Ukulele: I am not — that. I am- <The radio on Ukulele’s waist buzzes.> Reverie: Your wind is calling you home again. Armaros: (Through radio) I ended my observation early, Ukulele. I’ll be waiting by the shore for you. <Ukulele steps backwards, carefully looking down as to not stumble. He keeps the gun pointed at Reverie and takes several deep breaths before answering the radio.> Ukulele: Understood, I’m on my way. <He backs away further, keeping vision on Reverie for as long as possible. She doesn't move or follow him. Once she's out of view, he turns around and runs, holding his gun close to his chest. By the time the shore comes back into view, he slows down, panting heavily. He once more looks at his glove and the weapon he's holding, rubbing over the fabric frantically as a dark, viscous fluid is visible on it.> <The Stabilisation Filter kicks in once more, and it only shows a rubber glove. Ukulele takes a deep breath, puts the safety back on his weapon and holsters it.> «End Log» - 🜂 - Elsewhere, the Archivist calmly makes his way through the verdant expanse. In his hands he holds a small, bound notebook that contains drawings of magnificent birds and small creatures, sketches of waterways and measurements of the rings of a downed tree. The Archivist was even able to capture a koi fish — or so it seemed — that was as large as a log. Its blank eyes were full of peace as it drifted in the clear water. Truly, the Archivist thought, truly I stand in a place no artist can do justice. He walks carefully through the brush, making sure to not disturb the ecosystem more than the pair already have. But even in his caution, the Archivist's presence was known in the land. An old woman, who bore more rings than even the trunks of the most grand trees in this garden, heard him enter her domain. The winds spoke of the pair, and Kindred was aware of what this meant. So she waited, patiently like a spider on a dew-covered web, for the Archivist to pass by her. The clouds grew overcast in the sky, and the truth could be denied no longer. It was time for the man of records to discover the threads of his fate. «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Log - 01» Personnel Present: Senior Researcher Luca Armaros. «Continued» <The camera moves slowly through the greenery, a rubber glove only incidentally coming in frame as it gently pushes branches out of the way. The feed shows an expanding landscape of forestry and undergrowth, framed by the hills and caves on the horizon and a shallow brook nearby. Armaros moves towards the latter.> <He stands up and turns towards the spot indicated by the scanner: the opening of a cave. For a moment, the feed catches a glimpse of a blue glow.> Armaros: Well hello, there. I’m not sure whether the camera was able to record that, but there appears to be another lifeform here. I’m going to cautiously approach. <Armaros moves closer to the entrance of the cave, looking up and back down from his scanner intermittently. As he approaches, the flickering light of a campfire can be made out.> <The feed shows the insides of a cave, lit by a campfire with a cooking pot on top of it. The ladle is still in the pot, but otherwise the cave is empty. Armaros once again turns to his scanner.> ???: Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming in? <The camera shows only a shade, coloured in transparent blue, moving towards the fire with a plate filled with cut vegetables. The vegetables are put into the pot, and the ladle is moved to a stir.> Armaros: My apologies, I didn’t mean to pry. I — ???: Yes, yes. You’re at least polite, for your kind. Come in, sit by the fire. I’ll get you a bowl. <Armaros steps inside, sitting down on a log next to the fire. He appears to observe the shade. After a moment, he takes out his notebook and starts to sketch an elderly woman-figure.> ???: Interesting outfit, human. Are you expecting a battle? Armaros: N-no, it’s just procedure. I’m with the Founda- <The ladle whacks him, slapping the notebook out of his hands. It falls on the cave floor.> ???: Don’t draw people you just met. Did your Guardian not teach you manners? Armaros: My guardian? <The shade doesn't answer, humming a melody instead. Armaros reaches down to pick up his notebook, but is only able to find an old-fashioned ink pen. It has the initials “H.C.A.” inscribed into the wood.2> ???: You seem ill-equipped for the confrontation, I must say. Armaros: Confrontation? ???: Yes, yes. Keep up. <She fills a bowl with soup.> Eat. Strengthens your soul, hardens your heart. <Armaros takes the bowl, which appears to be hovering on the camera feed. He quickly takes out his scanner and investigates the soup. The scan clears it as non-anomalous and non-toxic.> ???: Potato leek soup. If you want my recipe, you can just ask. <She laughs.> My name is Kindred. Armaros: Armaros. Luca Armaros. <He hesitates for a moment, then removes his plastic visor. He carefully smells the soup, stirring it. The steam fogs up the camera feed momentarily, and as it does, the face of an elderly woman is visible where the shade is otherwise.> Kindred: You strike me as a listener, Luca Armaros. And no meal is complete without a tale. Armaros: (Smiling) I'd say that's on point. You could tell me how you began yours. «Break» When the Old Spirit was not yet old, and the winds hadn't yet stretched their young arms across the world, she would sit within a cavern in the Garden they called Paradise. The lands beyond her doorstep were under her care, and she only took what she needed to feed her and those seeking respite around her fire. For the longest time, that was just her, and the occasional visits of the winds from all four directions, coming home to rest and share their stories from afar. Until one day, she was surprised to see a fifth, a creature whose antlers were the only thing to poke above the rim of her cauldron. The child wobbled awkwardly on its hooved feet, and the Woman took pity on her. She took the child under her wing, teaching her how to survive in and care for the lush Garden: where to sleep, what to eat, and most importantly, what parts of the Garden were not to be treaded. One day when the Guiding Woman was cooking in her cavern, she heard a new whisper on the wind. A dark and inevitable whisper that she knew would call for the child, much like it had called for Her in the past. So she did the best she could; protect the child from its longing words, of its temptations dressed in crimson. She told the child that it could not leave the green pastures under any circumstance, lest it were to mark her. As it grew, so grew its curiosity of the world — Kindred heard the whispers grow louder, the clouds grow darker. In her dreams, no, nightmares, she would see the creature endure the first drawing of blood. Even the winds, who thought themselves above the storm in pride, shuddered at the darkness hanging just over the horizon. «Continued» <Armaros' spoon hangs in the air, halfway between the bowl and his mouth.> Kindred: Don’t give me that look, child. It’s not like it’s the end of the world! At least, not yet. Armaros: The world is ending? Kindred: The world is always ending. A story starts and it ends. Then it starts, and it ends. <The shade stands. She puts her empty bowl down on a nearby log.> Kindred: I've lived in this place for as long as time remembers — and believe me, Time's memory is far from perfect. It is a shelter from the cold and rugged weather. <She sighs> And it will not be enough to weather the oncoming storm. <The figure stands behind the flame of the campfire. Within the smoke, a woman with a kind, patient smile is visible.> Kindred: Come to me at the break of dawn. I will show you the story before yours. <She walks forward, taking the bowl from him. Armaros stands close to the flames for a moment, holding the pen in front of the camera feed. He then pockets it with his scanner.> Kindred: Shoo. Rest. You and your companion have a long path to walk. <Armaros says a quiet goodbye before turning and leaving the cave. As he walks back into the Garden, he puts his visor back on and reaches for his radio.> «End Log» After regrouping at the designated contact point, Agent Ukulele and Researcher Armaros proceded to set up base camp, designation Camp Milton. Alongside the SCP-8166-1 samples collected by Researcher Armaros and the exploration feed, the following report was included:3 «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Report / DAY 01» Summary of Findings and Planned Follow-up During the first day of in-person exploration of SCP-8166-1, both personnel encountered suspected sapient lifeforms, being: SCP-8166-4, a humanoid of above-average height that possesses characteristics similar to a common reindeer, including: hooved feet, large ears, antlers, a deer nose, and short tail. It seems to be capable of advanced ontokinetic abilities. Refers to itself as "Reverie." SCP-8166-5, a non-corporeal entity that makes itself appear as an elderly humanoid woman capable of speech and interaction with the corporeal world. Ontokinetic abilities are assumed but not established. Refers to itself as "Kindred." As per previous review of samples collected from drone exploration, flora and fauna present in SCP-8166-1 appears to be non-toxic to humans. Use of Foundation-approved rations is still preferred, however, as to limit dependence on SCP-8166-1. Review of exploration footage shows that neither lifeform appears hostile. Due to SCP-8166-5's references to an approaching event, further investigation is required to determine its possible effects on baseline normalcy. Interrogation of the lifeforms and further examination of the island is planned. Agent Ukulele requested that his opposition to "playing nice and having tea parties" with the anomaly be noted in this report, for future reference. Deep within a quiet cavern, where cold stone was brought warmth by the Elderly Woman and her cauldron, a quiet Nymph absently stirs her bowl of stew. Her eyes diligently follow each chunk of vegetable, while her ears shift and turn at the sound of the soft rain outside. "What is on your mind, dear child?" The Old Woman's glance turns to the Nymph, studying her innocuous face. No promises, false or otherwise, had reached the child of Eden yet. She turns to add another sprig of thyme to the cauldron. "Today I healed a butterfly's wing." She answers, placing a half-full bowl on the log nearby. "It was bent and broken, but not beyond saving." "I see." Kindred pauses and smiles at the Nymph. "That was a kindness. Not every creature is lost, but not every creature wishes to be saved." "What of a wound that is visible to you, and not to them?" The Nymph sets her bowl down on the cave floor and picks up a nearby pebble. As she rolls it in her hand it becomes covered in a thin layer of leafy moss. "You cannot save who does not wish to be saved, but you can protect those who do not know." "How do you tell the difference?" "Time." And so they sit quietly by the fire, certain they shared as much as they should have with one another, knowing that there was more left unspoken. The Kindred Spirit knew what the strangers would bring, as she had seen it before. But there was still a chance, she could still keep the Nymph close to the heart of Eden. Reverie's mind stirs with thoughts of the stranger and his path. He had travelled the world she knew only by tales on the wind, and as she rolled the now moss covered pebble in her hand, she wondered. What kind of armour would she have carried in his world? But as ambition clouds the mind from reality, so too was the Garden's sky darkening. She would be safe from the storm in this cave, as Kindred had promised she would be. But how long would safety be enough for her? Her story was finally unwinding, and she went to sleep with dreams of how it could unfold. A world that's beginning to unwind; An ambitious dream sprouting in one's mind; Merry, merry peace of Eden. Act 2 The Union of Heaven and Hell «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Log - 02» Personnel Present: Senior Researcher Luca Armaros; Agent “Ukulele”. «Begin Log» <The camera feed switches on, displaying the base setup of Camp Milton: a Foundation issued tent with sleeping bags inside, a campfire, and several boxes for drone delivery. Over one of these boxes, two bright yellow hazmat suits are draped. In front of the camera, Agent Ukulele is packing his backpack with gear and double rations. He appears out of focus. It is just before dawn, and the environment of the shore is still mostly an outline.> Armaros: You can just eat the food here, you know. Samples were triple checked and clean. <He turns to his own gear satchel, placing his sketchbook next to his scanner. When he looks back up again, Agent Ukulele is still out of focus, a shadow obscuring his face. His silhouette appears a little taller and broader in the shoulders.> Ukulele: I still think this idea is utter lunacy. Armaros: As was noted in the report. Ukulele: You did what? Armaros: You said I could quote you on that, so I did. Either way, we still got the go-ahead. <Ukulele takes out his weapon, carefully checking the cylinder and putting on the safety. He mutters something under his breath.> Ukulele: I'll try it your way, but if it all goes down the shitter, I've got my orders. <Armaros' Stabilisation Filter corrects for Ukulele's exaggerated silhouette, but his image remains blurry.> Armaros: I am glad you're willing to restrain yourself to our inferior protocols of not-murder. <He straps on an oversized camping backpack> Back here at 1900 hours. If anything comes up, use the radio. Code 231 if you can’t talk. Ukulele: What if the Green keeps away? Armaros: That shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it? Going by your reputation. <A rumble of thunder is heard. Both men turn towards the sky above the centre of the island. Several dark clouds have gathered around the peak of the mountain range.> Armaros: Although we might need to cut it short if the weather worsens. <A rough wind moves through the nearby treeline. Ukulele holsters his weapon and pops his collar before taking eastward. Armaros takes the road to the west, retracing his steps from the day before.> «Break» - 𝄡 - Moving eastward, the Hunter follows the path he did before, swatting at the same or similar branches. More than once he imagined a snake-like creature slithering towards him, only to find a vine instead. Of course, a snake is only a deceiver because the story made it one. It was only a symbol, was it not? What would the story make him? The one told by the Nymph the day before had not left his mind. It had spoken of a similar path as the one he’d chosen to walk — had it truly been choice, or an obligation? Had there ever been a difference? Without realising, he had placed his hand on the back of his neck, reaching for an answer he didn’t want to hear. The worst had been the look she’d given him. Pity. Something worth even less than forgiveness, and he neither asked nor deserved either. He still grumbles on his own as the storm picks up, soaking the greenery he traverses. Slipping and slithering through the mud, he makes his way to a winding tree, hiding under its leaves the size of lily pads. As always, he’d wait out the water. «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Log - 02» Personnel Present: Agent Ukulele. «Begin Log» <Ukulele wipes water off the front of his camera. Above, the deluge of rain can be heard falling down and gathering on the large leaves of the tree.> <To his left, bushes begin to crumple, before the familiar figure of Reverie materializes from the forest. Ukulele jumps at her appearance, slipping in the mud but keeping upright by grabbing a nearby tree branch. The attached leaf twitches and drops a large splash of water over Ukulele's right side.> Reverie: You’re not wearing your armour today. <She shakes the water off her fur. Ukulele turns away from her, trying to clear water from his radio.> Ukulele: Wish I had. I’m bloody soaked. Of course, Paradise opens a doorway to England and turns into a rainy hellhole. <Reverie sits on a large, exposed root.> Reverie: Did I scare you again? Ukulele: Again?! 'Course not, just didn't see you coming. Don't have eyes in the back of my head, now have I? <Reverie looks at the back of his head and neck, then frowns.> Reverie: I could dry your clothes for you. <Her fur lights up slightly, and the filter picks up ontokinetic interference.> Ukulele: No! No, it's fine. <He coughs to steady his voice.> I have a backup coat. <He removes his backpack and places it on a low-hanging branch leaf, pulling out its contents quickly. Aside from a pile of rations and some of Armaros’ measuring equipment, he takes out a tightly wrapped windbreaker.> Ukulele: Just no rubbernecking, alright? <He turns away from her, but keeps her in sight as he removes the jacket and shirt he’d been wearing, dumping them on a large leaf before grabbing the coat.> Reverie: Humans have interesting patterns on their fur. Ukulele: I told you not to watch! Reverie: You said not to rubberneck! And my neck isn't made out of rubber, so I’m sure I’m not doing that. Do all humans have those patterns? Ukulele: You talking about scars? No, not always. They're from old wounds. Reverie: When you fought monsters? <He grins and points to a deep scar on his left shoulder.> Ukulele: This one is from a Green up in Finland, wanting to build a Winter Wonderland, and that — <he points to acid-like splotches on his side> — is from a Blue who tried to drain a whole lake in the Netherlands. Couldn’t reverse that tragedy completely. Reverie: And those? <She points to two symmetrical scars just under Ukulele’s pecs. He looks down at them, then quickly zips up the coat.> Ukulele: A choice that felt right for me. Reverie: And the others weren't? Ukulele: Weren't what? <He sighs and shakes his head.> This is different, it's — it’s complicated. I don’t make the world less safe when I am who I am today. Reverie: Am I? Ukulele: I — I don’t know that yet. <He instinctively touches the back of his neck, covering up a circular birthmark, then shakes his head and starts repacking his gear.> Ukulele: It’s about choices. Some people are just too dangerous to make them. Reverie: So you help them make the right one? Ukulele: I make sure they can't make the wrong one. <He takes a deep breath, his fingers following the contour of the Foundation logo on his coat.> Ukulele: Got to be honest here, this is not really my routine. Don't really do the whole tea-table talk if I can help it. Reverie: What's a routine? Ukulele: Something you do so much you don't really think about it anymore. Something that becomes a second nature. Reverie: Like me and caring for the Garden? <Smiling> Kindred says we are all made with the potential for creation. Shape the world around us, make it grow. Ukulele: I must've missed that memo. Reverie: You create death. <He stares at her, though Reverie appears oblivious as to why.> Reverie: Life and death, the union of nature. Death is needed for growth, for a cycle to continue. There always needs to be a balance. <She turns to a branch Ukulele snapped off with his boot, regrowing it with a familiar hum and glow.> Reverie: I like the mark on your neck the most. Ukulele: (Softly) I was born with that one. <He quietly reattaches his camera to his coat. Before strapping his backpack, he takes out two of the ration bars and unwraps one.> Reverie: I’ve never seen it rain like this before. Have you? <He chokes on his protein bar.> Ukulele: Way too much. That’s England for you. Reverie: What’s an 'England'? Ukulele: You might be better off not knowing. Reverie: The winds talked of a faraway land of knights, castles and wild magic. Ukulele: Maybe once upon a time it was. <He pauses.> It's a tough subject. Humans prefer stability, a world they can understand and predict, even if it's limiting. Most of them don't really jibe with the whole changing reality thing. Reverie: And you help them keep this stability? <Ukulele is silent as he is checking his weapon and reholstering it.> Ukulele: I suppose I do. (Sighing) It's not that simple. Reverie: Why? <He doesn't answer, chewing his protein bar longer than it needs to. After a moment, he takes the second one and holds it out to Reverie.> Ukulele: Want some? <She carefully takes it, messing with the wrapper until it rips open. She sniffs the bar and makes a face.> Ukulele: It’s not too bad, once you get used to it. Reverie: It smells like droppings. <She carefully bites off a tiny bit, then heaves.> Reverie: Why would you eat that when you can eat whatever you want!? <Her fur flares up. The feed shifts out of focus. When the Stabilisation Filter kicks back in, Reverie is holding a pomegranate, which she starts to happily devour. Its red juices stain the fur on her arms and around her mouth a dark red.> Ukulele: Rude. You're not supposed to exchange a gift in front of the giver. Reverie: You should've given a better gift then. Ukulele: (Jokingly) I'll relay your complaint to the Mess Hall. Reverie: So you think it’s sometimes better to hide? Ukulele: I think it's worth it to survive. Not everything in my world goes together, so you have to figure out how to fit into it all. Truth be told, you're the first person who didn't run in the other direction when they found out what I am and what I do. Reverie: Instead, you did the running! Ukulele: We can forget about that part, can't we? <Reverie giggles and nods.> Reverie: I haven't met a lot of people before. Ukulele: I know another guy you could meet, but he's a bit of a knob. Reverie: Is that a good thing? Ukulele: (Laughing) Not generally, but he's harmless. Reverie: It's odd. I know every part of this Garden, every creek and creature. There is plenty to care for and observe. It's just — Ukulele: Lonely. Reverie: Yeah. <They sit and eat in silence for a while, as the storm rages on. Loud cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning sound through the skies. After a particularly loud crack, Ukulele looks up to the sky.> Ukulele: It’s getting worse. Reverie: We should seek shelter. <She jumps to her hooves and smiles brightly.> Come, I want to show you something! «Break» - 🜂 - The Archivist makes his way through the forest, noticing the imprints of his boot in mud and grass. He is still mindful in how he steps, careful not to crush any insects underfoot. As he walks, he notices a collection of cranes triumphantly standing in the shallow bank of the river. Deciding he has some time to kill, he places down his large backpack and observes them for what seems like hours. He notes down everything he can about them: their wingspan, the colour of their plumage, the manner in which they pick around the dead cattails to find small amphibians and fish. When it's finally time for him to leave, he watches as one opens its mighty wings to take flight into the still dawn sky. He goes to check his watch, but decides to just leave it be. The lack of sunrise would allow him to discover more, to dig deep into what this place truly has hidden. He wanted to know more about this world, every little change in hue. Especially if these changes would reveal him to be more than just an observer, but an active participant in shaping its future. It was a thought that causes him to shudder. One flap of a butterfly’s wing can start a storm, after all. «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Log - 02» Personnel Present: Senior Researcher Luca Armaros. «Continued» <The camera feed shows the entrance to the same cavern where SCP-8166-5 was encountered the day before. Just like yesterday, the cauldron on top of the fire is being stirred by a blue spectre.> Kindred: You came, Luca Armaros. Armaros: Couldn't stop thinking about that soup recipe. <She laughs wholeheartedly, her smile visible through the steam coming from the cauldron. A crack of thunder can be heard in the distance. Her expression then abruptly falls.> Kindred: Come inside, child. There is a storm brewing. <Armaros turns, following her gaze. The first spats of rain become visible.> Armaros: Somehow I didn't expect to have to bring an umbrella to Paradise. Is this normal? Kindred: It is expected. <She crushes some fresh rosemary leaves.> Don't you just stand there, Luca Armaros. Make yourself useful. <She motions to a stack of leeks, onions and carrots on a cutting board, placed on the flat surface of the hollow in the rock wall. Armaros walks over and takes up the knife while Kindred is preparing scraps of meat and bones from what appears to be skinned rodents. She’s humming a melody.> Kindred: A good soup needs a strong broth. Good bones are powerful, a sturdy ingredient to build from. Your companion knows this, of course. Armaros: I'm not sure I follow? Kindred: The one without glory, who betrayed his own kind to preserve stability.4 Your companion, the Hunter. Armaros: You know him? Kindred: Knowing? No, you don't need to know to recognise a false note. <Armaros turns and walks over to the cauldron, sliding a heap of cut vegetables into it. He pauses for a moment as they fall into the bubbling cauldron, watching them float before sinking beneath the liquid's surface. Kindred adds a healthy amount of crushed sage and thyme, and wipes her hands on her side.> Kindred: Ask your question, Luca Armaros. Don’t spare the silence. Armaros: Am I that much of an open book? <He puts down the knife.> Suppose I am. Yesterday you said you’d show me “the story before mine.” <Kindred laughs again, her voice echoing against the cavern walls.> Kindred: The Storyteller was a crafty man, but he was misguided: there is no such thing as only once upon a time. Armaros: This world-ending event, it happened before? Kindred: Many a time, child. Many a time. A cycle is coming to an end, but it can be restored. Armaros: "Regain the narrative." <He pauses> An old department head used to say that. "Best way to contain, is to regain the narrative." Kindred: It appears we've grown from the same roots. <She takes the ladle out of the cauldron and places it on the cutting board.> Kindred: We have a long path ahead of us. <The woman disperses into a blue shroud, floating past Armaros. The camera feed turns, showing a long, dark passage carved out of stone by natural winds, illuminated by a familiar blue glow. Armaros follows it.> «Break» - 𝄡 - It is an odd experience for the Hunter, following his prey without intent to kill. She moves faster than he ever has, leading him over muddied paths and under tapestries of green, jumping over loose branches and mossy stones while he slips and slithers after her, too fast to even think of reaching for his weapon. The Garden pushes on further and further, sloping upwards while they move under trees with high-reaching crowns, dressed in colours of late summer and autumn. Only when they reach an archway carved from mountain stone does the Nymph slow down, and the Hunter gasps for breath. As he sits down on rock, his calloused hands following the contours of the design, he realises they were carved with intent, by hands that shaped them to fit within the world it belonged to. To include, not replace. Roots grow from between paved surface, water drips down from openings ahead. Pillars and tree trunks intertwine as one, holding up spiralling arches that reach farther up than he had ever seen. «Continued» <The camera feed is focussed on the ornate carvings on the walls of the staircase. Water droplets slide down through the gaps. When Ukulele gets back on his feet, Reverie has already moved up several steps.> Ukulele: This didn't form organically. Someone made this, designed this. Did you? Reverie: No, I found it. I never tried to shape a mountain. You think I could? Ukulele: Suppose so. <He pauses.> You said there were no other people here? Reverie: I have never seen anyone else except Kindred, and I don't think she knows this place exists. She would've told me if she had. (Cheerily) I must be a better explorer. Like you! Ukulele: I'm not an explorer. Reverie: Of course you are. Why else did you come here? <He takes a deep breath, then takes the first step on the stairs, following her to the first plateau.> Ukulele: It's just an assignment. A job. It's a thing I must do. Reverie: <Her smile falls> I'd hoped you like being here. Ukulele: I've had worse jobs. <On either side of the steps, a small stream of clear blue water trickles down. He pushes his fingers through some of the holes he passes.> Ukulele: This is not just some kind of random pattern. You know who this is for? Reverie: The Winds use it to sing! <She turns to the camera as she says it, and a gust of wind picks up. The air pushes through the holes and nooks in the walls.> «Break» — and the mountain starts to sing. A flute played by nature itself, performing a melody that still feels so familiar to the warrior in green. Hear the song of the youngest Wind; Brought from stone and living kin; Rise, rise to the heart of Eden. He does not realise he has started to hum along, even if it is in his own distinct key. - 🜂 - The caverns stretch out before the Archivist, spiralling and sprawling endlessly like the winds that carved them out of stone. The walls were dressed in elaborate engravings, reliefs of heavenly landscapes, ravishing wildernesses, and young deer dancing in its fields. All moments in time, caught in the cold memory of stone. It would’ve been in the Archivist’s nature to record and sketch each and every moment, but something draws him in deeper. There is haste in his steps as he follows the blue glow, humming a tune that had become second nature to him now. Follow the footsteps of the Wind; Find the lessons of long-lost kin; Seek, seek the truth of Eden. Without him truly realising, he reaches for the pen, his thumb on the inscription. «Continued» Armaros: Kindred, you mentioned the Storyteller. Who is he? Kindred: Who he is or was, means nothing. What he brought us is what matters. <The camera turns to one of the walls, showing an elaborate engraving of a man with dark curly hair and a striking nose, writing behind a desk with an old-fashioned pen and inkstand.> Kindred: Stories are an odd sort. We breathe soul and spirit into them with every word spoken, creating them as much as they create us. Whispers on the wind of greater movements, rhythms of our own worlds colliding. Armaros: A union of gods. <She laughs like she did before, in the cavern around the fire. Her voice sounds deep and warming against the cold stone.> Kindred: Listen to me, rambling on. Some things cannot be captured in words, and it’s an old fool’s attempt to do just that. It is why I brought you here. <The cave has been widening for several minutes, but as Armaros turns the corner, a large hall made from hollowed-out mountain rock appears. Pillars, pews, balconies and benches, all from eroded stone in rounded edges. In the middle of the room sits a stone basin with a large orange flame burning in it. It lights up the room in a deep, warm glow.> <Behind the basin, a thick darkness is visible. When Armaros steps closer, the video feed has visible interference. It is able to capture a crack in the floor before cutting out.> «Break» - 𝄡 - The stairs spiral and spiral upwards, for longer than our weary warrior can truly recall. His steps feel lighter which each one he takes, his breathing steadying as he climbs higher and higher. With each spiral completed, a new plateau arises, showing a new vista of Eden's beauty. He sits and stares and for once simply is, as he listens to her tales and the rustling of the wind. The Hunter does not know how long their travel took. Hours, days, minutes, years, they were all the same in this endless sanctuary. But all journeys must come to an end eventually, and one more turn upwards brings them to that final threshold: a skybridge, delicate and intricately woven from stone and vine. A crown of a tree, bursting out of the mountain's chest like a splattering wound. When the traveller in green looks down, he sees a storm raging below them. «Continued» <Reverie sits down on a growth in the centre of the skybridge, shaped like a seat. She’s softly humming along with the melody still coming from the staircase as she watches the storm clouds swirl.> Reverie: You know you sing the melody too low? You're at least an octave off. <Ukulele catches himself humming, and abruptly stops.> Reverie: I didn’t mean you shouldn’t sing it like that! I like it, it suits you. Ukulele: Does it now? <There are openings in the floor and walls, like little viewing windows. Ukulele carefully steps around them. Reverie watches the storm below with fascination.> Reverie: Kindred said the rain would end soon. I wanted to see what it would look like from up here. Ukulele: She seems to know a whole lot about all of this. <He grabs a stone from his pocket and pushes it through one of the openings. It continues to hover in the air just outside the encased room.> Ukulele: How much do you trust this Kindred? Reverie: Why wouldn't I trust her? Ukulele: Because of this! You think this was built for a spirit-woman? This was made with people in mind, people made of flesh and blood. Didn’t she tell you anything? Reverie: She told me that Eden was my blood and bone. Ukulele: That's not at all concerning phrasing. For fuck's sake, it's a prison! A very pretty one, but that doesn't hide the bars. Reverie: Why are you angry? Ukulele: I’m not- <He takes a deep breath.> I’m just… frustrated you’re going along with all of this. Something is missing here. Why wouldn’t she know about this place? Why wouldn’t she tell you about it? Why are you okay with her turning you into a glorified gardener? Reverie: It’s what I’m good at. Ukulele: So? You’re useful. You check the box. Go along with what others say you need to be. Reverie: That’s what you did! Ukulele: And how is that a good thing?! <He throws his hands up in frustration. The plateau wobbles softly in the wind, and he presses his back against the wall.> Ukulele: You’ve seen what I am! What I do! Why would you think that’s something to aim for? <Ukulele lets go of the walls and walks over to her. He grabs her hand, kneeling at the side of the throne.> Ukulele: Because if that’s what you want, I’ll tell you what your future looks like. It’ll be lonely and empty and meaningless, and there will be no way out. It will grind you down until there is nothing left for you to hate, just an empty husk stuck in routines. <He looks down, his eyes closed.> Ukulele: I took this job because I was sure it would kill me before I turned 25. I counted on that. I didn’t particularly like who I was supposed to be anyway, so this was just the easier way out. Make myself useful, go out with a bang. <The storm builds.> Ukulele: I’m 36 now, and am still just surviving. That’s all I know. A tool to keep the world moving, surviving at any cost and with nothing to live for. <His voice is shaking.> Ukulele: And when I finally allowed myself to be who I know I am, I felt… alive. More alive than I ever could've imagined. <He pauses> At least when I look at myself now, I can hate me for what I did instead. Reverie: Why do you stay if you don’t fit? Ukulele: I can’t leave! I’m in too deep, I can’t change that now. Reverie: Why not? You did it before. <He is quiet for a moment, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it again.> Reverie: Changing the music to your key, from a treble to an alto clef. <She places a hand on his chest. He looks away, choking up.> Ukulele: (Quietly) I like that. <He quickly wipes his eyes.> Reverie: You think there is a lot of your England worth exploring? Ukulele: It’s a hellhole filled with bigots and people like me who would hunt you to the end of the Earth for what you are. Reverie: You’d know their ways, wouldn’t you? Can’t you teach me how to evade them? <He pauses, then raises his head to her.> Ukulele: I could show you. Reverie: You’d come? Ukulele: Yes. <Smiling> Yes I would. <With that, the pair begin to leave the chamber, descending down and down numbers of stairs before finally returning to the ground.> «End» When the Rogue speaks, a crack of thunder howls. Their world turns upside down, a storm rages across a schism. From below, the rain flows upwards, falling around the prison of stone and vine. A waterfall — a waterrise, perhaps — encapsulates them in a moment only two souls in consonance can share. The Traveller still has his eyes on the Nymph that would bring the End, but a man of such wariness and lack of faith would always watch his back. The third eye he hides in shame opens, and for once he can clearly see. Water is a mirror, a reflection in living movement. The water falling and rising around him did not display himself and the creature of the forest, but a knight in shining armour, carrying a shield with the crest of a snake, kneeling before an empress dressed in velvet robes and wearing a crown that could carry worlds. An empress of thorn, a choice finally made; Her staff by her side, a knight of the blade; Break, break this curse of Eden. - 🜂 - The Archivist stands there, flame warming his back, his eyes on the darkness — no, not truly darkness, but absence and appearance intertwined. A great schism had broken apart the stone of the mountain. A wild chasm, feral and howling with a wilder promise still. Here stood the man of files and logic, of records and registration, of rationale. A man, only a man, confronted with spirits older than principle. No land nor ocean, no mountain nor sky, but all of them at once, fertile and carrying, waiting for a wielder. Yearning for a creator and a world to wind and unwind. The wide-eyed Archivist stands on the brink of Hell, and all he can do is Watch. «Continued» <Armaros turns around, in the direction he came from and where the blue glow is still visible, simmering around the flaming basin.> Armaros: I don’t understand. Kindred: A story is nothing more or less than a bridge between two tellers, two gods of their own universes. They collide, always collide, ready to create more as they wield their Materials. <He takes the pen out of his coat pocket and holds it in front of him.> Kindred: A new god is ready to take her throne, dress herself in crimson and wield her staff. Whatever might her choice be, we will all see it unfold. Armaros: So they live in a gilded prison until the moment they choose — Kindred: Destruction. Armaros: And if they choose Creation? Kindred: What would Creation look like in the hands of a God? <Armaros turns back to the hallway he came from, slowly observing the room's design. Each pillar and each bench is ensnared by a growth so dark and grim it looks almost indistinguishable from stone. The roots reach up high, crawling upwards to the ceiling. Armaros places a hand on the parapet that surrounds the basin and leans forward, inspecting the stone that hold up the pews.> Armaros: This happened before. Kindred: Many a time, child. Many a time. I cannot keep them safe once they outgrow me. Armaros: What happens when they do? «Break» - 🜂 - The Archivist finds his question answered with the flick of the spirit's arm. A glow illuminates a headstone on the end of every pew, dressed in antlers and carved with names: Calliope, Thalia, Urania… “My heart aches for them all,” said the Kindred Spirit Luca Armaros had found, “My soul weeps, but Paradise remains. Better to fall in innocence than to be burdened in Hell.” “And all of us are doomed to fall, in the End.” Says the Archivist, his voice steadying. “You know what needs to be done now, Luca Armaros.” From here exhales the coldest Wind; Drawn from suffering, the sins of your kin; Rotten, this truth of Eden. The wide-eyed Archivist stands on the brink of Hell, the fires of Heaven warming his back. He grips the only weapon he had ever carried, the blade mightier than all, holding it high as the light touches it. And so does the Archivist begin his Watch. «SCP-8166-1 Exploration Report / DAY 03» Summary of Findings and Suggested Follow-up GOC and Foundation containment elements have reported a growing instability in SCP-8166-1. This has caused the area around the anomaly to become increasingly overgrown with fauna of similar composition to those reported by Senior Researcher Armaros. Additionally, Base Camp Milton's camera was reported offline following a rapid rise in water level. Both Senior Researcher Armaros and Agent Ukulele were radioed, but all hails went unanswered. Search and Rescue operations and unmanned reconnaissance into SCP-8166-1 were both denied due to its state. Thaumaturges are currently working to stabilize the anomaly to little success. Act 3 Paradise and the Lost - 🜂 - It is a familiar feeling, one the Archivist wields with recognition. He had been a man of many doubts, even more intentions. He had drawn his pen many a time to collect and record, to preserve and contain. It had lead him here, to this moment in time and space, this place in the grand design. The weapon he holds feels right in his hands. Not made for him, but forged close to his soul. And so Armaros spoke: "Kindred spirit, show me the path. Let me see the world that must remain." And Kindred answered, not with words, but by the gentle push of feathers that would lead him to the surface and higher. A cold clarity takes root, and he lets it grow. - 𝄡 - It is a new experience for the former hunter: being carried by the winds that would normally push against him. There is freedom in it he had not felt before, as it makes him twist down and downward still, the stairs leading him past each plateau and each vista with a new face. For once the Wayfarer sees he can fit into the grand design on his own accord. "Where should we go first?" The Nymph says, swaying as she walks down the path they chose. "The Cairngorms I visited as a child. And perhaps the northern lights in Finland. I had wanted to see them when I —" He stops his sentence as he remembers. She places a hand on his shoulder and he feels the weight of who he was before melt away. The melody she'd showed him breaks through those restricting motifs that had tied him down for so long. And Alto Clef spoke: "Lead the way, my friend." Neither look back to where they come from, the gilded prisons made for them. Because on the other side of the horizon is the world they could create. The melody crafted for them to fit in, not replace. - 🜂 - His steps were light as he returned to the darkness of the day. The Archivist stood at the brink of the cavern, and watched the creek grow wider and wider. "We are too late." He spoke in defeated tones. "The waters are rising and it will wash us all away." "It is not yet too late, my child." Spoke the whisper in his mind. "Let me guide you through this dark." The new weight he carries on his back unwinds. Like the cranes that stand with indignant reign over the water below them, a cool calm came over him. Muscles and tendons in his back shift, new sensations as if he is learning to walk again. His bright wings illuminate the world around him, and he can see the path ahead. - 🜂 𝄡 - Neither the Nymph nor her Rogue feel the change in the cold air, and neither stand to see the change in scenery. The lush autumn colours have been shed, green fields lay covered in mud and rising water. While their overture played, there were no birds interested in joining in. But the darkened sky and the raging storm could not temper their spirits. It was at a newly formed bay at the foot of the mountain, when the Rogue and the Nymph he'd follow to the end of this earth and the next one, find that they'd only reach the end of Paradise together. A thundering voice echoes over the mountain range, and a sharp and blazing flash follows it. "You shall remain." <A fiery figure with four wings is hovering above the water, cleaving it slightly. The Stabilisation Filter attempts to settle the visual, but keeps faltering.> Clef: Armaros? Christ, what the hell did you do?! <The figure raises his weapon to the skies, preparing to strike.> - 🜂 𝄡 - And with it, the heavens break open. It was not the first fight where the Rogue faced forces beyond the natural world. His senses were sharp, his instincts slick and nimble as he swerved and slid through mud and grime, skirting gusts of heat and scorching hail. It was only then that he realised, that his old companion had more than just him as a mark. “You have tempted the fate of Paradise and will pay for it in blood.” The voice of the Guardian roars across the forests and waters, a tempest in terrible tones. It tore at an old mark on the Rogue’s being, pulling on strings he had long believed severed. He felt his limbs and mind adapt, sculpted to fit into a narrative not his own. He had been a man shaped by the world he traversed. A symbol of treacherous destruction, too dangerous to exist as part of the tale, forced to roam the margins and beg for scraps. He had played that part for as long as he can remember. A snake in the Garden will be a Dragon on Judgement Day. Dripping acid with its twisting words, the Man Made Dragon speaks: "I will stand against you as I stood against your forebearer, and I will strike you down just as I will —" The Dragon contorts, pushing against the mold that didn't fit him fully. <The camera drops to the ground alongside most of Clef’s gear, the feed cutting in and out. For a moment, reality distorts. A large dragon-like creature is just barely visible, roaring loudly. It swipes towards the Guardian, before ripping at its own chest. The twisting dragon falls back on the ground, dematerializing with a loud crack.> Clef: — not be part of this bloody pantomime! <The feed flashes out for a moment as reality shifts and dilates. When it finally refocuses, Clef is standing in frame, resembling himself again. He is panting heavily, looking at his hands and limbs to confirm they are his own.> Clef: You're not even gonna fight it? <He groans> Consider this your courtesy warning among colleagues. <He scrambles and steps aside as a large burning rock hits the ground just between the pair. He turns, running up the hillside. His gear and weapon lay a couple of meters further.> <The Gate Guardian raises his sword again, bringing it down on the water's surface. A boiling wave builds and crashes against the shore.> - 🜂 - With each swing of the sword, the shore gets eaten away further and further, swallowed by the oncoming flood. Its wielder had answered a call that had come from the human he was before, united with righteous and protective spirit. More than just preservation, this was salvation. In the grey sky, the Guardian glows a fantastic blue, and steadies himself to strike at the pair. “Kindred!” Cries the Nymph. Although no major harm had come to her, escaping the onslaught had singed her fur and chipped at her antlers. Not all wounds were visible, however, and in the torrent a single whisper makes its way towards her heart. Cruel is the coldest wind of all. “Kindred!” She repeats, a tone befitting that of an Empress. “Show your face to me, answer for your actions. Let us leave.” The blank face of the Guardian answers her. It raises its hand to stop a flurry of oncoming hail, redirecting it towards the pair. Reverie is able only to provide enough cover for the knight. She feels the sting of cuts as the hail rips past her. A collection of gashes open across her arms, causing crimson blood to stain her fur. “Why?” Speaks the Nymph, her voice augmented by the gusting wind that guides her towards her only true choice in centuries. For a moment, she believes she can see the Old Woman's smile; twisted and crooked on a face not her own. “There is Hell in all of us, tearing at our seams at every turn. I have kept you from its call, but I cannot stop you outgrowing my embrace.” Their lips do not move with the words she speaks. “You have made your choice, Reverie, as did your mothers before you. Tempted by the calls of worlds beyond, worlds not made for you. I have taught you kindness and care, but I cannot dampen the hatred that is planted in you. The crack in our hearts that feeds and feeds, festering like an open wound. It is the curse of your kind to give in. I cannot stop your fall.” "You would drag us to damnation for your own survival?" "Ask your Knight if he has done the same." Said the Whisper in serene tones. As kith and kin converse, the Guardian's gaze is turned from the critter in the mud. <Clef slips down through the mud, unable to keep on his feet.> Clef: You fucking Labcoats are all the same. What happened to not interfering? <The thundering voice of Luca Armaros is picked up by the radio equipment. His blank face does not move.> - 🜂 - "The time to converse has passed, and you have made your choice. I made mine to conserve what you would burn away." <The camera feed registers another flare. Clef is hovering just above the mud, his silhouette surrounded in a soft glow.> Clef: You’re an absolutely insufferable knob, you know that Armaros? But if you want to play dirty, I can make this stink. <He balls his fists and two large waves of mud move upwards, back in the direction of the Guardian.> A chilling breeze burns just as much as a blazing heat, the Nymph now understands. She thought back to when she was but a fawn, sitting around the fire. When the winds spoke of monarchs who could bend tides to their will, the Nymph listened in quiet awe. It had been Kindred who brushed those thoughts away. Stay at your task, my child, the guide instructed. Do not shake the ground you were built from, but honour it instead. Each time Reverie had raised her head up high, the old spirit had brought her back to Earth. This world was made for her, but not by her. She was but a decoration in another's creation. And she could be so much more. The landscape envelops the Guardian, burying it beneath soil and stone. The Empress looks down on the figures, the spirit she once considered her guiding light. Even in the storm she can feel the burn of tears on her cheeks, clouding her vision of the Old Wind. “Have I not shown kindness? Have I not chosen the path of compassion? Why would you doubt me? When everything I have ever done has been in the service of you?” And with each pained crack in her voice, the ground shakes. Reverie: I am not an extension of you! <The earth around her cracks, tearing a deep schism between her and the entity.> She was no longer a fawn to be herded and held in line. She chose the path to walk, the world to inhabit, the person to be. She would rearrange the music to include her. As the world around her opens, the Empress takes her throne. Her antlers, interwoven with a crown of scarlet, cast a dark glow on the land. No, not true darkness — the potency of creation. Of something new to intertwine, not replace. At her command, the water falls flat and cold. The Guardian freezes as her eyes glow like burning stars. "Stand down." His blind eyes turn to the One who Commands. The Garden quivers, the winds hold in their breath. A new world is to be born. The union of nature will envelop those who oppose the new dawn. A quiet before the thunder cracks, a shiver before the dark disperses. In that moment, the song Ends. The Hunter once more reaches for an old and trusted routine. <The bullet travels on, grazing the Guardian's wing. Feathers fly in the air as the bullet misses its mark.> For a moment, the rain stops pouring. Reverie lifts her hand to touch one of the falling droplets, and can't help but think her arm is heavier than it once was. She was cold, colder than she had ever been. Her fingers found where the warmth was leaving her. A dampness on her torso created not by rain, but from a substance more vital to life than water. One last moment in Paradise. A frozen second in an endless void. Her vision shifts from the humans above water and mud, to the brightest bluest sky as her back finds the dirt. This wasn't what she had expected an Ending to be. It was not the one the Winds had promised her, or the hopes that had only just started blooming in her heart. A seed planted for the rest of eternity. The Empress lay on the ground her bones were built from. The stars in her crown of antlers dimmed as the break of dawn, and her fur was dressed in scarlet. Once upon a time, when a fresh blanket of snow covered the ground, the Garden stood quiet. The once beating heart of the land had fallen still, in mud and receding waters. The winds were gone, as were their promises. The Kindred spirit had departed with a cold sigh, as Paradise froze over. In the middle of a silent, frozen wasteland sat two men: a rogue with the heart of a hunter, and a watcher who intervened. <Armaros' blade retracts, and he looks down at the antique pen in his hand. His eyes are no longer burning, but his wings are still visible. His fingers are shaking.> <Agent Clef sits next to the remains of Reverie, holding her lifeless hand. He stares in disbelief, then plants a kiss on her cold fingers.> Clef: I am sorry, my friend. Armaros: Is she—? Clef: (Scornfully) What do you think? <He stands up, gun still in hand, and walks over to Armaros.> Clef: What the fuck do you think?! Armaros: I didn't mean to — Clef: Didn't mean to what? Tell me, you prick. Give me one fucking reason why the next one shouldn’t go right between your fucking eyes. <Armaros holds up his hands and flinches, slipping over the ice and only barely staying upright. His wings flutter and awkwardly twitch as he tries to keep his balance.> Clef: You’re not even worth the lead. <He holsters his weapon, spits, then punches Armaros right on the jaw. A rough clicking noise is heard when they make contact and Clef recoils, grabbing his fist with his other hand.> Clef: Fuck you. Fuck. As he watches the Archivist shake and quiver, he saw a man brought to his knees. A sorry creature who crossed a boundary he hadn't known existed, and who the hunter tried to hate. But no matter how deep he feels the blame and anger, it could not take root. He knew what lay ahead of the former human, what systems would ensnare him. He had moved through them himself, tricked and twisted by his own misgivings. The man of files and logic had a long path to walk, and he would walk it alone. There might not be forgiveness, but there is pity for the Archivist. The Garden's scars were still fresh. The signs of battle had been covered in the white shawl of winter, but it could not fill the large gaping wound that ran its length across the ground. As the men exchanged their anger and grievances, the body of the Nymph lay to rest at the place where heaven and hell had met. Her stained fur grew paler, and her antlers buried deep in the mud. The stardust in her eyes faded as she returned to the ground. And to dust she would return. Time spent in cold despair is seldom swift. Grief knows no timeline and no depth. For a short eternity, two men forced against each other stood face to face among a quiet nothingness. But as life must meet death, as spring must meet winter, the wheel turns to face the sun again. The first tones where those violet shades of hyacinths, peeking out from the ground. Next, the chirp of a bird, then several more were heard far off in the distance. The world springs alive, as it had so many times before. Two almost-humans rush back to shore and steady land as snow starts to melt and icy waters begin to thaw. <The camera switches back on with full visuals, only registering minor distortions around Armaros and Clef, which mostly gets filtered out by the Stabilisation Filter. Armaros is visibly struggling to stay steady with his new limbs as he attempts to retract them.> <The sound register picks up a third humanoid voice: a crying sound.> Armaros: You hear that? Clef: Hear what? Armaros: I think — Wait, let me look. <He attempts to stretch his wings out. They flap out of order.> Armaros: It's not as easy as she made it out to be. <Armaros clenches his fists and carefully jumps up from the ground. Although shaky, he is able to take off several meters into the air, holding and correcting with small twitches of his wings. He moves higher to scout out the area.> The Fawn lays in a small green patch on the ground. It squirms as it acquaints itself to the new environment, pulling its furred arms and legs close to itself to fight against the fading cold. The Archivist watches, not to interfere even when he longs to, as he leads the man who changed his path through the cold and barren waste. It is not recognition that it makes the Rogue feel, but something pulling deeper at his heart. A familiar belonging. When he reaches for the Fawn, its small limbs answer as if by instinct. He unzips his torn jacket, swaddling the child and holding it within his arms. A little warmth returns with the new sun, and he hears the melody returning on the wind. The song starts anew. Epilogue A Garden's Reprise Not many things happen only once upon a time, no matter how big and bold they were. The Guardian's Watch had just begun. In Paradise he had stood tall and bright against darkened skies, and one day he will again, armed with broken wing and bent pride. Until then, his Watch would be long and lonesome. He watches the snow melt as he walks the winding paths through the Assistens Kirkegård, tracing the steps many others have charged before. Here, between the growths of living landscape and the stones of the dead, he found where the tale before his own began. One can only change the story if one knows its origin, after all. He whistles before continuing down the path. His lips carry a song from a far off place, one that he was both blessed and damned to have endured. As the birds respond in harmony and a soft breeze washes over him, he renews his vow in his mind. And he sings that long-lost melody in a new key. Item#: 8166 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Assigned Site Site-19 Site Director Dir. Sophia Light Research Head Dr. Simon Glass Assigned MTF N/A Assigned Site Site-19 Site Director Dir. Sophia Light Research Head Dr. Simon Glass Assigned MTF N/A GOC's EDEN Complex as seen during the initial SCP-8166 activation, located in Cornwall, England. Revised Containment Procedures: Following its initial activation, SCP-8166 has not shown signs of activity. It is currently contained in a standard anomalous item containment locker in Site-19. SCP-8166-2 was brought into Foundation care by a GOC defector, and is currently residing in a specialised naturalistic containment complex. Foundation personnel are to wear biohazard suits upon entering the complex. Revised Description: SCP-8166 is a music box formerly possessed by PoI-1875 "Hans Christian Andersen," a Danish author known for writing fairy tales and suspected thaumaturge.5 When opened, SCP-8166 releases a small crane bird automaton which beats its wings and plays a musical tune classified as a spiral-class hermeneutic.6 The tune currently played is a full octave lower than before its activation on the 19th of October, 1999. SCP-8166-2 is a humanoid child that possesses characters similar to Rangifer tarandus (Common reindeer) including: hooved feet, antlers, large ears, a deer nose, and short tail. It displays allergic reactions to non-natural materials, and Foundation staff are only to interact with it while wearing specialised biohazard suits. Inoculation of the instance for ease of testing is currently being deliberated. Director Light has approved visitation for Agent Alto Clef once a year while SCP-8166-2 develops. SCP-8166-3 is former Foundation Senior Researcher Luca Armaros, a humanoid entity with four radiant wings, one of which was damaged during the initial containment attempts of SCP-8166. After initial collection of SCP-8166-2, SCP-8166-3 returned to Foundation duties under strict surveillance and limited clearance. Interactions between SCP-8166-2 and -3 are to be limited. SCP-8166-1 is considered lost. And at the end of this tale, the One with blood on his hands, the Man who brought the Fall, the Dissonant; he lands on the shores of a prison of his own making. A prison not for him. In silence they sit, side by side, a little quiet piece of solace. The trees rustle with soft whispers, singing that tune from long ago. May you be carried on the Wind; To lands of wild, free of the sinned; Merry, merry peace of Eden. He would almost be able to hear the symphony through the protective layers, the industrial colours of a harsher world. The Daughter he chose devours her birthday cake, as well as the tales and knowledge he is allowed to bring her, on those visits when their worlds almost collide. Time stands still here, but the outside world moves along. When the moment comes for the False Note to leave the symphony behind for another year, for another trial in a world that deserves him, he rises. Kneeling by her side, he kisses her forehead through the plastic visor, and tells her the same thing he says every year, again and again. "You’re worth every hurt and every pain I’ve ever seen." The trees sing a new tune now, and as the man paddles back to the land of the living, he can finally hear the melody he so dearly missed. One that was wholly his own. May I shield you from the wind; Be wild, free of my sins; Meri, Meri, my piece of Eden. Footnotes 1. A cognitohazard resulting from or created by the reinterpretation of an anomalous concept. 2. Researcher Armaros did only bring a standard issue pen for fieldwork into SCP-8166-1, and does not recall ever encountering this pen before this moment. 3. This report only arrived 37 minutes after the expedition party entered SCP-8166-1. 4. It is suspected the entity is referring to the GOC's Ichabod Campaign and the effort to mass produce SRA's. Where SCP-8166-5 learned about the operation is unknown. 5. See also: Armaros, Luca. "The Garden and its Roots: Andersen, hermeneutic thaumaturgy and the fairytale of the Garden of Paradise." Foundation Journal of Anomalous Literature, vol. 75, no. 1, 2000, pp. 41-50. 6. A cognitohazard activated upon reinterpretation of an anomalous concept. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8166" by AstersQuill, FlyPurgatorio, and sailorenoch, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8166. 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. Quote: "Oh, why did Eve take of the tree of knowledge! Why did Adam eat the forbidden fruit! If it had only been I it would not have happened! never would sin have entered the world!" Name Source: The Garden of Paradise (short story) Author: Hans Christian Andersen (original); Dugald Stewart Walker (translation) License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK / Licensing info at bottom of the page Additional Notes: Paraphrased Quote: "Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n." Name Source: Paradise Lost (Book 1 line 263) Author: John Milton License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK / Licencing info at bottom of the page Additional Notes: Paraphrased/reworked to "Better to fall in innocence than to be burdened in Hell." Quote: "Into this wilde Abyss,The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave, Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mixt Confus'dly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless th’ Almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more Worlds, Into this wilde Abyss the warie fiend Stood on the brink of Hell and look'd a while, Pondering his Voyage; for no narrow frith He had to cross. " Name Source: Paradise Lost (Book 2 line 910-920) Author: John Milton License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK / Licencing info at bottom of the page Additional Notes: Parts of Luca Armaros' storyline are based on/referring to this passage. There is no direct quote. Specifically for searchablity: "The Archivist stands there, flame warming his back, his eyes on the darkness (…) and watched the creek grow wider and wider." Quote: Vort Jordliv her er Evighedens Frø / Our life here on earth is the seed of Eternity Name: Oldingen (poem) Author: Hans Christian Andersen (original); FlyPurgatorio (translation) License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK / Link that shows original date of publication of the Danish text in 1874 Additional Notes: Danish phrase is also used on Hans Christian Andersen's gravestone. New translation by FlyPurgatorio. Filename: EastwardofEden1.jpg Name: Music Box And Key, ca. 1780 (CH 18423157).jpg Author: Unknown Artist / Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (Collection) License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK Filename: Eden2.jpg Name: Forêt amérique du sud.jpg Author: Unknown author License: CC 0 Source Link: LINK Filename: Grave image Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work This image [Grave image] is a derivative of: Name: H. C. Andersen grave Author: Thue License: Public Domain Source: Wikimedia Commons Filename: pen.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Link Source: Authors own work Derivative Of: MSignature HCA LINK This image [pen.png] is a derivative of: Filename: Signature HCA Name: Signature of Danish author Hans Christian Andersen. Author: Connormah, Hans Christian Andersen License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK Filename: musicbox-1-2.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Derivative Of: Music Box And Key, ca. 1780 (CH 18423157).jpg LINK This image [musicbox-1-2.png] is a derivative of: Filename: EastwardofEden1.jpg Name: Music Box And Key, ca. 1780 (CH 18423157).jpg Author: Unknown Artist / Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (Collection) License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK Filename: reveriemom-1-2.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: gate-2.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: hazmat-1.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: dragon2-1.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: koi-2.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: Kindred-1.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: Reverie.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: birthmark-2.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: lucagear-1.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: arch.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: reflection1.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Derivative Of: Lamia and the Soldier (1905). LINK This image [reflection1.png] is a derivative of: Filename: Lamia and the Soldier (1905). Name: John Waterhouse - Lamia - Google Art Project.jpg Author: John William Waterhouse License: Public Domain Source Link: LINK Filename: lucawing.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: confront.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: babyy.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: Eden_project.jpg Author: A1personage License: CC 0 Source Link: LINK Filename: end3.png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Filename: paper-min[1].png Author: sailorenoch License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: LINK Source: Authors own work Note: Background used for Storybook divs. |
SCP-8169 | safe | Warning: This story has absolutely no redeeming merit or value. 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 Arachnids. 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 Margaretha Monroe, c. 1975 Item #: SCP-8169 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8169 is currently stored within a standard Safe-Class storage locker at Site-433. Outside of testing purposes, it is not to be removed from its storage locker. Testing with SCP-8169 is currently forbidden by the Ethics Committee.1 A search for SCP-8169-A instances is ongoing, centered around the site of the anomaly's discovery. Cover Story-3821-SMIW (“Inquiry by Public Health Officials") is to be used to facilitate this. Any discovered subjects are to be detained at Site-433. Description: SCP-8169 is a small black ceramic sculpture of a spider, previously belonging to deceased German-American sex worker Margaretha Monroe.2 SCP-8169 was recovered from a brothel in Los Angeles in 1978 as part of an initiative to sweep high-population American cities for low-risk, as of yet undiscovered, anomalous objects. SCP-8169's anomalous properties activate when two individuals engage in sexual intercourse while the sculpture is present. Male subjects have reported no adverse effects. However, female subjects will suffer a number of anomalous phenomena centered around their bodies shortly afterwards. They have been designated SCP-8169-A instances. Approximately 3-5 days after the act concludes, spiders of a variety of species, including parasteatoda tepidariorum,3 latrodectus mactans,4 araneus diadematus,5 and amaurobius ferox6 will begin to appear within the uterus and vagina of the SCP-8169-A subject. These entities have been observed slowly developing within the subject's uterus before eating their way out of the uterine lining. These spiders have been observed wriggling and moving throughout the subject's cavities, engaging in oviparity and the weaving of webs as they do so. Notably, no spider has ever been observed engaging in aggressive behavior of any sort, be it biting the SCP-8169-A instance or engaging in territorial disputes with one another. The ever-increasing rate at which new spiders appear makes attempts to remove these spiders7 an impractical method of mitigating the phenomenon. Male subjects who engage in intercourse with an SCP-8169-A instance have reported lasting pain and discomfort. During intercourse, spiders from the SCP-8169-A instance's uterus will crawl out of the subject's body and onto the male's genitalia,8 biting him repeatedly. They will also begin weaving webs along the length of the shaft, trapping the male's semen9 and fully covering the urethra. Following intercourse, the population of spiders has been observed to increase dramatically, at times almost doubling. It is theorized that the feeding event functions as an opportunity for the spiders to socialize and engage in copulation. None of the affected individuals — male or female — have actually mentioned or noticed the presence of the arachnids, despite numerous complaints of a strong itching sensation in the groin region. A potential memetic phenomenon is suspected, but has not been proven. Large clumps of web have been discovered within the menstrual blood of SCP-8169-A instances. Spiders have been discovered trapped within the webbing, their legs still moving. The rate of menstruation decreases extremely quickly as the SCP-8169-A instance ages. The majority of SCP-8169-A instances will experience a condition analagous to menopause approximately 8-9 months after the beginning of anomalous phenomena. Eventually, the presence of webbing will completely seal over the vagina and make sexual intercourse impossible. Ultrasound of SCP-8169-A instances that have reached this stage has revealed that the spiders within their uterus will continue to reproduce, crawling over each other at such a quick rate that individual spiders cannot be observed. In extreme cases, the instance's belly will become swollen and engorged with the quantity of spiders. Addendum — Research Update Alicia Smith, an acquaintance of Monroe's and fellow sex worker, has been key in gaining information regarding the SCP-8169 anomaly. Smith revealed that SCP-8169 was used as a "good luck charm" by its owners, with the goal of minimizing the chance of pregnancy. SCP-8169 has no contraceptive properties. Footnotes 1. See Cimmerian et al. 1996: Factory Porn and the Casting Couch: Proper Controls in the Study of Anomalies with Sexual Aspects. 2. Monroe died in childbirth on June 5th, 1977. 3. Common house spider. 4. Southern black widow. 5. European garden spider. 6. Black lace weaver. 7. Typically done under the guise of a gynecological procedure. 8. In one test, entering the male's body through the urethra. 9. Serving as a means of trapping a source of protein for the spiders. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8169" by Cathy Autumn, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8169. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: LoisWeber.jpg Author: Unknown License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons |
SCP-8173 | safe | A new SCP dossier is being served to Foundation staff. The anomaly? Some things are inherently not anomalous. Enclosed, Ms. Harrier’s poignant story about the Foundation’s response. Item#: 8173 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Should awareness of SCP-8173 become public, a disinformation campaign will be issued, followed by case-by-case administration of amnestics to affected civilians. Due to SCP-8173's disproportionate effect on her, C-Class Containment Technician Ms Audrey Harrier is to be afforded room and board in a Level 1 (or higher) clearance zone. If practical, the location of her room should be on the site of her employment to keep the cost of SCP-8173's containment minimal. She will not be permitted to enter any area of lower clearance unless approved by the occupying site director. Any civilian or staff without security clearance who is exposed to Ms Audrey Harrier will be administered class B1 amnestics as to avoid awareness of SCP-8173 from triggering outside of Foundation control. Description: SCP-8173 is a semiohazard that affects all reality, and results in unexplainable variations in normalcy. Instances of SCP-8173 are difficult to detect without skilful use of logical reasoning. The most prominent instance of SCP-8173 amplifies the normalcy of Ms Audrey Harrier (see addenda). This instance is also responsible for paradoxes relating to her physiology, life history, behaviour, and origin. These paradoxes are functions of the semiohazard and their effect on normalcy. Ms Harrier is not anomalous. Addendum 8173.1: Discovery At the time of SCP-8173’s discovery, Ms Harrier was undergoing an internship within the SCP Foundation. Ms Harrier’s supervisor, Dr Doux, had been anonymously notified that Ms Harrier was the source of an anomalous agent and that the Foundation should be alerted. Dr Doux dismissed this report and it was only after additional consideration that he filed his own. Following the filing of Dr Doux's report, Ms Harrier’s quarantine had been issued. Addendum 8173.2: Interview Logs + ACCESS /S:/8173/interviews/sylva_isabelle01 - Accessed /S:/8173/interviews/sylva_isabelle01 Interviewed: Mrs Isabelle Sylva, General Practitioner Interviewer: Dr Roseart Foreword: Mrs Isabelle Sylva was a childhood friend of Ms Harrier. <Begin Log> Dr Roseart: We’d like to ask a few questions about Audrey. Silence. Dr Roseart: Of the Harriers. A friend of yours? Silence. Mrs Sylva: OH! Audrey! It’s been so long. Dr Roseart: How did you get to know each other? Mrs Sylva: She was the neighbours' kid. I think we were playing on the street and her parents let me in their home or something. (laughs.) Dr Roseart: When was this? Mrs Sylva: I think I was about 8 or 9. I’m 29 now, so that’d make it… Dr Roseart: 21 years ago, at the latest. You weren’t kidding, that's quite some time. Do you remember when you stopped seeing each other? Mrs Sylva: We became distant after high school. Dr Roseart: Is there anything that struck you as odd about Audrey? Mrs Sylva: No, not really. Dr Roseart: Hm. Dr Roseart is checking their notes. Mrs Sylva: Could I help you with anything else? Dr Roseart: Pardon me, ma'am. I’m thinking. Mrs Sylva: Ok…? Dr Roseart: You met her parents, correct? You knew each other for some time. Mrs Sylva: I did. Lovely people. Dr Roseart: I apologize if this feels intrusive to ask, but were her parents biological? Mrs Sylva: …Actually, I don’t think they were. I think she was adopted. Dr Roseart: Why do you say that? Lack of resemblance? Mrs Sylva: Absolutely, and you know, they were always talking about how she came from a rock. It was such a cute story. Dr Roseart: …A rock? Mrs Sylva: I think it was meant to be like an egg. They’d sit us both down for tea and talk both of our ears off about her. I suppose that’s just what loving parents do. Dr Roseart: I suppose so. Did you get the impression this “rock” story was a euphemism or literal? Maybe they didn’t want Audrey to feel bad about being adopted. Mrs Sylva: I couldn’t say. But it is such a nice story, don’t you think? I would want to believe it was true. Dr Roseart: I’m inclined to agree. Thank you for your time. <End Log> + ACCESS /S:/8173/interviews/garrison_dan01 - Accessed /S:/8173/interviews/garrison_dan01 Interviewed: Mr Dan Garrison, Private Military Contractor Interviewer: Dr Roseart Foreword: Mr Dan Garrison was a coworker and tutor of Ms Harrier. <Begin Log> Dr Roseart: So, you worked with Audrey? Mr Garrison: I did. She was a bit of a prodigy. Came out the womb looking at security. But she wanted something practical. Dr Roseart: Would you say there was anything weird about her? Unusual, maybe? Mr Garrison: Well, other than her resume, I would say yes. Dr Roseart: Like what? Mr Garrison: She’s a real goof. Dr Roseart: …A goof? Mr Garrison: We used to call her Ferret. One time Clem said that her personality was identical to his pet. No one could unsee it. I’d be showing someone my kit and she’d come right in and start touching everything. Set me off every time. Dr Roseart: Anything else? Mr Garrison: Uh huh. Real enigmatic, that Audrey. She loved escalators. Dr Roseart: What. Mr Garrison: Every time we were doing shifts near an escalator, she’d insist she do a pose on it while it's moving at least once. Every. Single. Time. Dr Roseart: …Why? Mr Garrison: You’re asking me?! (chuckles.) Dr Roseart: Uh… Mr Garrison… These things all seem… "social" in nature. Is there anything that you found unusual about Ms Harrier other than her behaviour? Anything at all? Mr Garrison: Hrm. Let's see. Mr Garrison snaps his fingers. Mr Garrison: Yeah. Back when I was training her. She was sparring, and I noticed she was doing a lot of open-palm strikes. Dr Roseart: She knows martial arts? Mr Garrison: A good thing. Saved me some work. Her posture was similar to Hung Gar. Very low to the ground. Very wide stance. She seemed sloppy, though. Wouldn't throw a single punch. Dr Roseart: Why? Mr Garrison: That's what I asked her. She said she couldn't. I asked her "Why not?" She said "My nails are too long, sir. I can't form a tightly closed fist." Dr Roseart: Long nails. Right. Mr Garrison: Well, I told her to cut those nails back. Can't wear gloves with them, anyway. Dr Roseart: …Did she? Mr Garrison: I'd take it you're not much for martial arts? Dr Roseart: No, I practice sidearms at most. Mr Garrison: To put it how you'd understand… Those techniques, you're often striking with the palm. After the palm strike, you are leaving your fingers free to grab or dig in. That's 'specially handy when striking the neck or face. I only saw her in a fistfight once, but I realized she underperformed in sparring because she was an endurance fighter. She got in that guy's head. Made him hurt and bleed. Made every strike seem undesirable. Well, more than usual. Needless to say, he got out of her striking range as fast as he could. Dr Roseart: That's… Mr Garrison: We decided to let her be. Whatever she was doing, it worked. Even if she was behind, she was still keeping up. Dr Roseart: That… Well, I suppose that makes sense. Is that all? Is that the only other thing you could think of? Mr Garrison: I believe so. Dr Roseart: Thank you, Mr Garrison. Mr Garrison: No problem. <End Log> + ACCESS /S:/8173/interviews/harrier_audrey02 - Accessed /S:/8173/interviews/harrier_audrey02 Interviewed: Ms Audrey Harrier Interviewer: Dr Roseart Foreword: Taken following the quarantine of Ms Harrier. <Begin Log> Dr Roseart: Alright, let’s get this underway. That coffee on the table is yours if you want it. Ms Harrier is hunched over in her seat, with her hands balled together in her lap. She is looking at the coffee in front of her but is not drinking it. Dr Roseart: How has quarantine been treating you? She is continuing to stare at the coffee, and her brow has furrowed. She is irritated. Ms Harrier: Yeah, the food makes me sick so I only ate the meat. Then they got mad at me for wasting food. Dr Roseart: Picky eater? Ms Harrier: No. Can I just have the sausages for every meal? Dr Roseart: …Uh. Every meal? Ms Harrier: Yes. Please. Dr Roseart: Wouldn't that make you feel… more sick? Ms Harrier: No. Dr Roseart: I'll uh… Make a note of it. Ms Harrier has perked up a little. Ms Harrier: Can I get a phone in my room to call my parents? I'm already missing them a lot. I won't tell them about any of this. I'll just tell them I had to get an extension for my classes or something- Dr Roseart: I can tell you now the answer will be no. You'll have to wait until your quarantine has ended. Ms Harrier looks away. Dr Roseart: We had a report from your supervisor about anomalous activity. Were you aware of this activity? Ms Harrier: Well, yeah. I told him about it. Her posture and tone is defensive. Dr Roseart: When? Ms Harrier has glanced at Dr Roseart briefly but goes back to staring at the coffee. Ms Harrier: …October 5th. It just occurred to me, I guess. Dr Roseart: That date is the same day that Dr Doux claimed to have become aware of the anomaly. For clarification, you informed your supervisor anonymously, correct? She flinched. No verbal response. Dr Roseart: You can request your answer be struck from the record. Ms Harrier: Will it be? Dr Roseart: That depends on its importance. The room is silent. She is reluctant. Ms Harrier: …I did inform Dr Doux anonymously. Dr Roseart: I appreciate your cooperation. You said it “occurred” to you? Ms Harrier: That’s how it works. It hides in plain sight. Tricks people into thinking things are normal. Silence. Dr Roseart has leaned back and is habitually tapping their notepad with their pencil. Dr Roseart: …Could you describe the nature of the anomaly to me? Ms Harrier's back has straightened and her brow furrowed. She sounds offended. Ms Harrier: I just did, dude. Dr Roseart: This is an interview, Ms Harrier. Details are important. Ms Harrier: (sigh.) Right. Ok. So… Um. Oh fuck, where do I even start? Thinking about this is making her upset. Dr Roseart: Take your time. Start from the beginning if you have to. Ms Harrier: …It's like I have brain jails instead of brain cells. Dr Roseart: …Pardon? Ms Harrier: I know things other people don't, like I'm smart, but I'm also trapped. It was the anomaly classes. I was in class and I realized there was an anomaly… But it's hard to describe and when I try to tell people they just look at me like I'm crazy! Dr Roseart: What is it? Her gaze has flickered between Dr Roseart and elsewhere. Ms Harrier: It's… Ok, so. The way that people think of me doesn't make sense. I have traits, and if I tell people about them they think they're normal. Dr Roseart: What are these "traits"? Could you give some examples? Ms Harrier: You know one of them. I eat a lot of meat. Silence. Dr Roseart has raised an eyebrow. Dr Roseart: That doesn’t seem like anomalous behaviour to me. Ms Harrier: Ah, no… Because… I don’t… Y’know, I… My teeth! So, like, my teeth are different. You can probably see them, if I just, like- Ms Harrier has stood up from her seat and is pulling at the insides of her lips. Dr Roseart: Please sit down, ma’am. I will advise that a dental examination be performed… Later. Probably. Ms Harrier is seated. Ms Harrier: …You don't believe me. Dr Roseart: I’m just here to interview you. Ms Harrier: I can’t believe you don’t believe me. The Foundation, of all people! I "just" told you that you wouldn't believe me! …And you don't!!! Dr Roseart is hurriedly looking at their notes. Dr Roseart: …If you don't mind, could you show me your hands? She has looked down into her lap, then back at Dr Roseart. She is now placing a hand on the table. Dr Roseart: Hm. This is… Less interesting than I expected. Ms Harrier has withdrawn her hand from the table, rolled her eyes, and groaned. Ms Harrier: UGH! Just… Think about if you had my teeth! That would be WEIRD! Dr Roseart: …That would be. Because they're not my teeth. Ms Harrier: I can't even argue about it! It's always the same! I say something that makes total sense, and then there's some bullshit explanation! Dr Roseart: I can’t tell you much, for obvious reasons. However, the plan is to look into it. Ms Harrier is crossing her arms and looking away. Ms Harrier: Fine! Next question. Dr Roseart: …Do you think you are anomalous? Ms Harrier: No, no, no. I can't think I'm anomalous! The idea is just weird and silly to me like it is to you. Hell, I sound fucking insane right now!! Ms Harrier has become especially emotive. Dr Roseart is sitting further back in their chair. Dr Roseart: I wouldn't say… Uh… Ms Harrier: Ok, ok. But, listen. I grew up in [REDACTED]. It’s kinda semi-rural there. Not a lot of new faces. The idea of a “human being” didn’t even really click for me until biology class in high school… Dr Roseart: …“human being”? Ms Harrier: Like, what a human is. Dr Roseart: …As a species? Homo sapiens? Ms Harrier: Yeah. Dr Roseart: …You don’t believe you’re human…? Ms Harrier: I don’t know! It’s something I only started thinking about recently… My point is, no one ever said anything. As I started to get older I realized some things, but I always just thought it was self-doubt. Everyone always told me, "That sounds normal". Dr Roseart has straightened their posture. Dr Roseart: Noted. Do you believe the anomaly has a source? Ms Harrier: I think the source is me. Dr Roseart: …Does this belief upset you? Ms Harrier has begun trembling. Ms Harrier: (sigh.) I don’t want it to be true. You probably think I am, but I'm not obsessed. I just thought turning myself in was the right thing. Dr Roseart: You aren’t being persecuted, don’t worry. That isn’t what the Foundation does. The room is silent. Ms Harrier has raised her legs onto her chair and is hugging her knees in a ball. Ms Harrier: Will I be contained? She is looking away from Dr Roseart, who has an elbow on the table and is rubbing their face. Dr Roseart: You know I can’t answer that. However, if it eases your mind, I can give you my own opinion. Just between you and me. Ms Harrier: Shoot, I guess. Dr Roseart: I don’t think there’s anything to contain. The final verdict may differ, but that’s what I think. Both are silent. Ms Harrier: Are we done? Dr Roseart: I think that’s all for now. Thank you. <End Log> Addendum 8173.3-4: █████████ Addendum 8173.5: Director Notice + ACCESS /S:/8173/assorted/director_notice_scan - Accessed /S:/8173/assorted/director_notice_scan NOTICE FROM THE AREA DIRECTOR (AREA-43) Concerning Staff of 1st Level Clearance or Higher, Following extensive study, the Foundation has concluded that there are no anomalous staff within your residing facility. The internships and training of affected staff will continue as normal. The Director would like to remind staff of their duties and obligations to the Foundation, and that such duties and obligations should be carried out with the utmost professionalism. Gossip AND/OR harassment pertaining to affected individuals will not be tolerated. - ████████████, Area Director Addendum 8173.6: Audio Logs + ACCESS /S:/8173/audio_logs/containment_disclosure - Accessed /S:/8173/audio_logs/containment_disclosure AUDIO LOG DATE: 22/01/2024 NOTE: N/A. [BEGIN LOG] 0:00: The scraping sound of a chair against a floor can be heard. Audrey: This isn't about my studies, is it? Dr Doux: Ah, no, none of that. Before we continue, I am afraid this discussion has to be recorded. Audrey: …More of this shit? Dr Doux: Language, Audrey. Audrey: Yes, Doctor. 0:22: Papers are being flipped through. Dr Doux: It is for your protection as much as it is for records. I am about to pass to you a confidential letter. Do not read it aloud. Am I clear as mud? Audrey: Ye- Um, no sir. You are perfectly clear. 0:37: Shifting of fabric can be heard as Dr Doux retrieves the letter and places it on the desk. 0:59: Everything has been silent up until this point. Audrey: I-I… Fuck. Dr Doux: How are you feeling? Audrey: They should had just locked me up… Th-… This is… 1:16: Audrey's breathing has become erratic. Dr Doux: Breathe, Audrey. Breathe slowly. 1:21: Audrey is breathing deeply, but her breathing is still somewhat erratic. Her voice is breaking. Audrey: …Ok. Ok. This is bad. Dr Doux: I was against recording this. It's humiliating. Yet, the higher-ups insisted. They said there was… Not enough data about your involvement. Audrey: What about this says that I'm not the victim?! I spent three months alone in a tiny fucking room while researchers fought over my eating habits, and now they want to-!! Dr Doux: MS. HARRIER! …Think before you speak. 1:50: Audrey inhales. Audrey: …Right. The letter is confidential. 1:56: The recording is silent for a moment. Audrey: I'm going to lose everything. Why the fuck did I even want to work here? If I stayed in security, no one would had known about it. Dr Doux: No one would have known, including yourself. Audrey: Isn't not knowing better? That's what I'm being taught, isn't it? Dr Doux: Audrey… You are being taught that you must bear knowledge others cannot have, so you can protect them. 1:53: Audrey sniffles. She inhales, then exhales. Audrey: Protect them from what…? Me…? 2:00: The letter swishes as it is returned by Dr Doux. A box is placed on the desk, and the sound of tissues being yanked from it follows. Dr Doux: To protect them from the truth. You are not the problem, Audrey. You never were. It was always the anomaly; the "other". If such things are possible, then what else? What uncertainty and horror lies within that thinking? Would you have the world of your loved ones slip between their fingers? The fabric of reality itself a caricature of the real? 2:20: The room is silent for a moment. Dr Doux: There are bigger things out there than this. Worse things. Dangerous things. Why did you decide to join the Foundation, Audrey? Did you want to protect people from these things? Audrey: …Yes, Doctor. Dr Doux: I did too. Audrey: Only… I-it's pretty bullshit, isn't it? This is bullshit. What if I said "no"? What if I ran? Dr Doux: They would find you. They always do. They would probably decide to contain you against your will, as well as this. Audrey: …So I don't have a choice? I have to work here, now? That's it? Dr Doux: No. My heart is in pain for you, Audrey, but that is untrue. That is precisely the one thing you do get to choose. Audrey: …Whether to curl up in a box and die. Dr Doux: Not exactly. Either way, you will have a future and the Foundation will do everything it can to keep you safe. This situation, it is… "bullshit", but these things happen in this work. It is not over for you yet. You will still have your life. Many are… Not as fortunate as you are. 2:58: Silence. Dr Doux: Are you feeling better? Audrey: No. Dr Doux: I understand. Audrey: …I think I'm past the shock, though. Dr Doux: That is good. We can keep the cussing out of my office again, then. 3:21: Dr Doux laughs wearily. Dr Doux: Do you still want to work for the Foundation? As a containment technician? Audrey: I don't know anymore. Dr Doux: Well, here is something for you to think about. Do you think you could have contained this anomaly better than they did? Audrey: I… I think it's probably effective? Dr Doux: Do you think you could have done it better? A moment ago, it felt like death to you. Audrey: …I. Um. I don't know. Dr Doux: Do you think it could have been fairer? Audrey: The Foundation doesn't persecute- Dr Doux: Ah! Yet it can still be fair, can it not? 4:05: Silence. Audrey's voice is broken. She is crying. Audrey: …I… I think you're right. I think I could had done better. Dr Doux: That is the job of a containment technician. To choose the containment. The old ways do emphasize efficiency. Yet, you are young. You can change things. You can be efficient as well as compassionate. 4:17: The tears can be heard in her voice. Audrey: W-well, maybe not this specific one. I think I could help people like me, who end up in l-like, similar situations? Dr Doux: Yes. Audrey: I c-could do this. I can do this! 4:29: She has started yelling. She is still crying, but she is reassuring herself. Dr Doux: …Yes, you can! Audrey: I've lost everything, but it'll take more than that! I'M AUDREY "FERRET" HARRIER! 4:40: The chair crashes to the ground, and a bang is heard against the desk. Audrey: I DON'T STAY DOWN!! 4:41: Dr Doux laughs sympathetically. Dr Doux: It takes more than that, for a good woman. Audrey: …T-Thank you, Doctor! YOU'RE MY MUM! Dr Doux: …I would hope not. 4:47: Audrey can be heard fidgeting with the chair to place it back upright. She is sniffling. Audrey: O-oh, I meant… Y'know… M-my second mum… No, like a second mum? Dad? You're l-like my second dad. Dr Doux: You need all the support you can get, especially with what you know now. Please, choose to finish your studies… The Foundation needs people like you, Ms Harrier. [END LOG] Addendum 8173.7: Initial Containment The Quarantine of Ms Audrey Harrier was lifted on 08/01/2024. Ms Audrey Harrier’s internship proceeded. She was promoted to Junior Containment Technician on 23/01/2024. During this time, this file (SCP-8173) was being drafted. To ensure the effectiveness of SCP-8173’s containment, VLAM-level emergency action was temporarily granted before the approval of containment procedures, by the site director. A public disinformation campaign was initiated on 05/02/2024, and class C2, D3, and G4 amnestics administered on small civilian clusters which were at risk of developing awareness of SCP-8173. Use of class A5 and B amnestics had been dismissed in favour of more precise methods due to the unique and prolonged nature of public exposure to the anomaly. Addendum 8173.8: Video Logs + ACCESS /S:/8173/video_logs/love_you - Accessed /S:/8173/video_logs/love_you VIDEO LOG DATE: 07/02/2024 NOTE: Approved by special request. [BEGIN LOG] 0:00: The view is of an older couple sitting next to each other behind a metal frame desk. There is a single empty seat opposite them. The room is bland, and the only light is from artificial, fluorescent lamps. 0:01: The sound of a door opening can be heard, followed by Audrey Harrier walking towards the empty seat. Mr Harrier: There she is! Mrs Harrier: Come here, darling. Audrey: Sup… 0:04: She sounds emotionally exhausted. Mrs Harrier: How’s the new job working for you? Audrey: I like it. I don’t think I’ve ever been more passionate about anything. Mr Harrier: Good! You had a hard time finding an interest. Audrey: …Yeah. So um… 0:14: All three are quiet. Mr Harrier scoots his chair forward. Audrey: They told you, right? They’re going to… Erase me. Mr Harrier: (laughs.) Pretty grisly way to describe it, Audrey. You’ll be fine. Mrs Harrier: I’d think it probably better to keep our chins up, dear. 0:30: Quiet sobbing can be heard. Mr Harrier: Aw, dear. 0:32: Mrs Harrier stands up from her chair and hastily crouches by Audrey’s side, embracing her while she remains seated. Mr Harrier follows suit. 0:57: Mr Harrier begins sobbing. 2:26: Mr Harrier has stopped. Mrs Harrier: Remember that park we used to go to when you were small? 2:35: Prolonged silence. Mrs Harrier: You used to love the slide. We’d be there for nearly an hour just watching you climb up and go down over and over. 2:42: Audrey has stopped crying. Audrey: Remember when I pushed Isabelle down the slide? Mr Harrier: (laughs quietly.) I thought I’d be in trouble. Your mum was working that day. Mrs Harrier: Remember Jason? Audrey: Oh god, Mum. No. Mrs Harrier: What? I thought he was cute. Audrey: No. Mr Harrier: Jason wasn’t cute. He was a right devil. Audrey: Thanks, Dad. Mrs Harrier: I can’t believe you two. Mr Harrier: Remember your first day of high school? Audrey: I upchucked my breakfast. I was so nervous. Mr Harrier: I put good time into that bacon too. Audrey: How did you even cook me breakfast every day, Dad? That’s the real anomaly. Mrs Harrier: Oh, darling. It’s not that hard. Audrey: I’m running off leftovers for breakfast. It’s awful. Mr Harrier: There’s a book I can recommend. “Cooking for Family” I think it was called? Audrey: T-thanks, Dad. Mrs Harrier: Your hair is dirty. Audrey: Mum… Please. This is being recorded. Mrs Harrier: You’ve been washing it haven’t you? I remember tying that head of hair of yours as tightly back as it will go every morning that I had the chance. It grows so fast. Audrey: It’s fine… Mrs Harrier: …Alright. 3:47: The three have embraced in silence for roughly a minute. Audrey: …Mum? Mrs Harrier: Yes, darling? Audrey: Did I really hatch from a red geode? Mrs Harrier: You did. It’s funny, I never thought it that strange. Mr Harrier: I brought it home from a trek in the woods. Set it on the table and found a crying baby Audrey surrounded by chunks of red and white crystals in the middle of the night. Audrey: You’ve told me too many times, Dad. You never shut up about it. Mr Harrier: Well, one more for the sendoff, then. 5:06: After a minute and a half of silence, an armed individual enters the room. Mr and Mrs Harrier both turn to look at them. Ms Harrier does not move. ████████: Time's up. Mr Harrier: We ought to be going then. So your mates can get their hands in our brains. Audrey: It’s not that bad. They have a machine. Mr Harrier: Ah, I was worried for a moment. 5:19: Mr and Mrs Harrier both stand up and gather their belongings. They begin leaving for the door. Ms Harrier abruptly stands up and takes after them, hugging her mother in the corner of the feed before it ends. [END LOG] Footnotes 1. Regressive retrograde. 2. Targeted retrograde. 3. Progressive retrograde. 4. Class G amnestics were administered to induce belief that the person of interest never existed, in cases of prolonged separation from the person of interest. This effectively counteracted the effects of SCP-8173, causing targets to believe thinking of Ms Harrier to be an act of fantasy. 5. General retrograde. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8173" by P0rcelain, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8173. 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: RDgDBft.png Name: N/A. Author: None provided. License: [CC-BY-SA] Source Link: https://imgur.com/RDgDBft Additional Notes: [Taken from the Style Guide] Derivative Of: (Situational) |
SCP-8176 | safe | Item #: SCP-276-ARC1 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-276 is contained on-site at Site-19 in the official evidence locker, pending classification and analysis. (Dated 04.JAN.1976.) SCP-276 has been classified as a Safe-class anomaly2 and is contained within Low Priority Storage Locker #0281. (Dated 12.MAR.1976.) SCP-276 has been relocated to Containment Locker-129F after Site-19's East Wing was rendered unusable due to mold damage. (Dated 03.MAY.1982.) It has been determined that SCP-276 was one of the anomalous items lost in the 1990 renovation of Site-19. Cleaning crews assigned to the lower sublevels of the facility have been briefed on the appearance and properties of the anomaly. (Dated 12.FEB.1991. Current Revision.) Description: SCP-276 designates the remains of the five members of the Kirk Lonwood Choir Club of 1976.3 The Kirk Lonwood Choir Club was a high school musical group and cult dedicated to the study and use of the group's singular grimoire, a heavily damaged Braithwhite-influenced 1934 printing of the Parsons translation of the Liber Mille Innominatam.4 The group discovered the book by unknown means and found several of its rituals efficacious. On 03.JAN.1976, the entire Kirk Lonwood Choir Club perished in the process of performing a variant of Ritual-034-BRAVO-DERLETH, gaining minor anomalous properties in the process. All five of the bodies show signs of heavy burn damage and do not decay. Descriptions as follows: Ryan Goldman: 18. Male. Caucasian. 2 bullet wounds in the head. Continually bleeds a viscious grey substance from the hands, eyes, and feet. Chemical analysis inconclusive; Elliot Craig: 17. Male. Caucasian. Broken neck. 1 bullet wound in the chest. Minor cognitohazardous property; when looked at from a certain angle, the head does not appear to be visible; Elizabeth Kent: 17. Female. Caucasian. Severe damage to her face. 6 bullet wounds in the back. Despite damage to the jaw, continually repeats a 30-second passage of an unknown language; David Sato: 18. Male. Asian. 17 stab wounds across the back. A stone ritual knife lodged firmly in the left eye socket. Levitates approximately a meter above the ground, shaking violently; Samantha Rees: 18. Female. Caucasian. 2 bullet wounds in the torso. 1 in the leg. Large chunks of the body are missing, as if bitten off by a large animal. Despite the lack of connective tissue, the remainder of the extremities behave as though they are still attached; The Kirk Lonwood Choir Club has become the subject of urban legend among attendees of Kirk Lonwood High School. Sightings of paranormal activity in the area are common and the current Kirk Lonwood Choir Club5 is widely considered to be "cursed". It is unknown whether or not this is mere folklore or indicative of latent anomalous influence in the area. Addendum — Operation DANDELION WINE The following is a reproduced copy of the documentation for Operation DANDELION WINE, which took place on 03.JAN.1976.6 Please note that the document does not reflect the current formatting conventions, values, or methods of the modern Foundation. Operation Designation: 238-401-9472 ("DANDELION WINE") Introduction: Agent Samuel Fromme, in the course of his duties as 12th-grade Algebra teacher at Kirk Lonwood High School, noticed suspicious behavior among the members of the Kirk Lonwood Choir Club. On 26.DEC.1975, he followed the club's leader, Ryan Goldman, to his home and then later to an abandoned shack in the Braiton Forest. Agent Fromme witnessed the five members of Choir Club enter the shack, produce a single live housecat, and behead it while chanting from what he believed to be an anomalous grimoire. Once the chanting was concluded, a minor anomalous phenomenon was witnessed: the cat had disappeared entirely and was replaced by a single long amphibious blue-green tentacle of unknown species. The Choir Club celebrated their success, stayed for approximately an hour chatting and eating homemade cookies that Elizabeth Kent, a member of the Choir Club, had provided. Topics included their further plans for the grimoire, including winning their class' annual talent show and getting revenge on an unspecified classmate that had been bullying Goldman. After returning home, Agent Fromme then notified the other members of his cell, Agents Benjamin Kondraki and Franklin Marullo. They sent a preliminary report of the situation to their handler, Dr. Lisa Bateman. However, the report was lost in Dr. Parsons' backlog and after 6 days of no reply, they elected to engage the group themselves. Report: At 1928 hours, the team departed Agent Fromme's house in his 1974 Ford Pinto. As the most senior operative, Agent Fromme was given command of the mission. At 2011 hours, the team exited the vehicle and agreed on a plan of action. They ascertained that their firearms were loaded before sending Agent Marullo to look through the shack's single unblocked window. Agent Marullo saw that the Choir Club was gathered around a ritual circle, holding large ritual knives.7 A lamb, later determined to have been taken from the Craig family farm, was tied up in the center of the circle. As Goldman chanted, the other four members of the group stabbed and killed the lamb. A mass of unusually large red-green wasps in the rough shape of a large human protruded from the circle, quickly consuming the lamb as it buzzed loudly. He rejoined the group and reported his findings. The members of the Choir Club then turned to face the team as the agents forcefully gained access to the building. Agent Fromme shouted that the Choir Club was under arrest, pretending to be a member of local law enforcement. Though Elliot Craig continued chanting, the remainder of the Choir Club slowly raised their hands in the air. Agent Kondraki then shot Goldman twice in the head. Goldman fell to the ground, causing Elizabeth Kent to shriek hysterically. The mass of wasps began buzzing even more loudly before throwing itself towards the Agents. As Agents Marullo and Fromme gave covering fire, Agent Kondraki moved around the wasps and jumped onto Craig, breaking his neck after a brief tussle. He then shot him in the chest. Meanwhile, Agents Marullo and Fromme were firing on the wasps, which was largely ineffective. They were eventually able to chase the wasps into the northern corner of the shack, where Kent was crouched, gibbering. The cloud of wasps flew into her face, forcing several insects down her throat and into her eyes. As they so, Kent stood up and began chanting in an unknown language. Her voice was guttural and vaguely masculine. Kent was unaffected by the bullets and her chanting was noted to have an adverse anomalous effect on the area. The shack's internal topography became non-euclidean and bent inwards towards the ritual circle as the sound of buzzing wasps became omnipresent. More wasps poured from the circle, joining the mass as it began forming into a vague humanoid shape. Agent Kondraki snuck up behind Kent before forcefully shoving her to the ground and repeatedly stomping on her head. After approximately a minute, her face was reduced to a bloody unrecognizable pulp. The chanting stopped and the wasps fell to the floor, dissolving into a multicolored jelly-like substance. The room's internal topography reverted to its prior state. Agent Kondraki then laughed and wiped blood off his hands and coat before approaching David Sato, who ran. After cornering him against the left wall of the shack, Agent Kondraki forcefully took the knife from Sato's hands, breaking two of Sato's fingers in the process. He then repeatedly stabbed him with the blade until it was firmly lodged in his left eye socket and Agent Kondraki could not remove it. He stood up and muttered several racial epithets before noticing Rees, the sole survivor. Agent Fromme ordered Agent Kondraki to take her into custody so that they could learn more about the group's practices. Agent Kondraki responded by shooting her three times. Agent Fromme berated the other agent for his insubordination before Agent Marullo mentioned hearing both police sirens and a strange humming noise. The team evacuated. After ascertaining that the grimoire was in possession, Agent Kondraki doused the building in kerosene. He then set it alight using his personal lighter. At 2024 hours, the team departed in their vehicle. Addenda: Agent Kondraki was called upon to explain his disobedience by Agent Fromme. Agent Kondraki argued that his actions were brought upon by him seeing a member of the Choir Club, of Vietnamese origin,8 brandish a large knife at him.9 He further argued that as the Choir Club posed an active anomalous threat, he was wholly justified in taking the actions that he did. Agent Fromme reluctantly agreed, but emphasized that such insurrection against his authority would not be tolerated in the future. Dr. Bateman settled the issue by reprimanding Agent Kondraki for his disobedience but praising his near-perfect record of efficiency in dispatching anomalous threats. A follow-up sweep of the area the next morning determined that the shack had been entirely consumed by flame and that the bodies of the Choir Club exhibited anomalous properties. Their remains were taken into Foundation custody and the members of the Kirk Lonwood Choir Club were filed as missing persons shortly after. Footnotes 1. Redesignated SCP-8176 in the 2008 mass edit of Foundation files following the restructuring of RAISA. Documentation remains unedited for historical purposes. 2. See Classification Committee Minutes 08.MAR.1976. 3. Never granted official Group of Interest Classification. 4. Object was stored on-site in Low Priority Storage Locker #2820. Since lost in the 1990 renovation. 5. Reformed 15.SEP.1977. 6. Recovered 12.JUN.2014. 7. Objects were stored on-site in Low Priority Storage Locker #4910. Since lost in the 1990 renovation. 8. Sato was of Japanese descent. 9. For further information on Director Benjamin Kondraki's participation in the Vietnam War, see Personnel File-3828DK. |
SCP-8180 | euclid | Any resemblance to existent persons, either real or imagined, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Atone. Atone. Atone. Atone. Atone. Item #: SCP-8180 Special Containment Procedures: Due to the difficulty surrounding complete erasure of relevant information regarding individuals who possess SCP-8180, impacted subjects should be monitored for progressive deterioration via common indicators that typically develop. Given the self-corrective nature of the anomaly, majority of cases do not require Foundation intervention. Nevertheless, personnel assigned to the study of SCP-8180 should remain vigilant. Veil-harmful content is to be taken down upon detection. Replacement of content wholesale should only be permitted as a last resort, when absence of such content is deemed detrimental to Veil operations. Actors used to replace those represented in affected media are to be given daily psychological evaluations, with any adverse results being immediately reported to SCP-8180's project lead. Description: SCP-8180 is the designation given to a collection of behavioral phenomena affecting approximately 0.01% of content creators on the video sharing platform YouTube.1 SCP-8180 behaviors do not always develop in creators that fit the criteria outlined in supplementary documentation, however, a significant trend suggests prolonged exposure to the platform and its audience compounds the likelihood these behaviors will develop. Often, SCP-8180-afflicted individuals experience symptomatic progression of adverse mannerisms to a level of severity in which counterproductive anomalous effects hinder the ability to maintain consistent content creation. Similarly, personal desire to produce videos free of these counterproductive effects diminishes over time, which further complicates personal struggles with emergent ideological shifts that usually occur. Roughly 82% of impacted creators cease or greatly reduce their online presence upon being afflicted with SCP-8180. Study of individuals that maintain a semi-stable brand image despite ongoing developmental disadvantages are of great interest to the Foundation, and are to be observed in perpetuity until such time that significant indicators of Veil-threatening effects are observed. More info can be found below. Preface: PoI-8180 is a notable member of the YouTube community, and as such exhibits a predisposition to SCP-8180-related phenomena. However, a case study of PoI-8180's progression revealed a remarkable deviation from typically observed cases, mostly in the form of a complete absence of effective self-inhibition, bolstered by extreme wealth. Audits and interviews with PoI-8180 suggest that, due to a substantial core fanbase,2 PoI-8180 is able to produce content containing adverse behavior without risk of losing the income necessary to do so. A brief list of impacted videos, and summaries of their contents has been compiled for reference: VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0785 (Control Entry) Lamborghini Vs. World's Largest Shredder SUMMARY: PoI-8180 purchases a luxury vehicle and an industrial metal shredder, then pays contractors to construct a large conveyor belt on which said luxury vehicle is placed. The automobile is guided into the shredder, which shreds the car appropriately. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0792 I Survived 7 Days in the Wilderness SUMMARY: PoI-8180 and a small group of colleagues pay helicopter fleet to transport the group and a small camera crew several miles into the wilderness of Sequoia National Forest, CA. They proceed to backpack and attempt survival "hacks" for the next (truncated) seven days. PoI-8180 notably protested leaving the woods after the seventh day. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0813 For Every 24 Hours Blindfolded, You Win $10,000 SUMMARY: PoI-8180 holds a "blindfold challenge", wherein five of his friends have their vision restricted until they encounter various barriers (both physical and figurative), contact with which ultimately concludes the challenge. Each individual is monetarily incentivized by PoI-8180 to keep their blindfolds on in hazardous scenarios such as driving and preparing elaborate food dishes. Minor injuries are sustained by two of the five contestants. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0817 $50,000 Extreme Hide and Seek SUMMARY: Another "contest" held by PoI-8180, entailing a $50,000 prize for the last person to be found by a hired tracker and alleged bounty hunter. PoI-8180 remained at home for the entirety of video, communicating with the tracker via two-way radio. Upon conclusion of the challenge, PoI-8180 exhibited pronounced disappointment and annoyance. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0820 I Built 100 Wells in Africa SUMMARY: PoI-8180 transports regulars and his camera crew to the outskirts of Kenya, where communities suffer from poor water conditions. The group proceeds to oversee construction of one hundred wells in the surrounding area, over into Nairiri. Constructed wells pull typically inaccessible, potable groundwater upwards for civilian use. PoI-8180 is markedly dismayed that large machinery would be used to bore holes, which immediately necessitate infrastructure to preserve contents. Individual was not present for most of the filming process. According to eyewitness accounts, PoI-8180 spent majority of this time attempting to bore his own holes with hand tools, but found the fruits of his labor underwhelming. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0821 I Spent 7 Days Stranded Alone on an Island SUMMARY: Still dissatisfied by the events of the previous video, PoI-8180 decides to self-administer a "survival challenge" by being airlifted to the uninhabited Polynesian island of Tetepare, where he spends seven days living in relative comfort due to an abundance of supplies and enjoyable weather. Unfortunately, the presence of the camera crew appears to cause PoI-8180 moderate discomfort, which he claims is due to the simulated challenge not being "realistic" enough, given the presence of others and the included food catering services. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0822 I Searched 50 Dumpsters, Here's What I Found SUMMARY: In an apparent rebound, PoI-8180 spends several weeks sifting through fifty dumpsters selected in the Los Angeles area. Due to the camera crew's unwillingness to join him, PoI-8180 is provided a handheld camcorder and chest-mounted body camera to document his findings, which he happily accepts. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0825 Spending 7 Days in Solitary Confinement with the Lights Off SUMMARY: In another self-imposed challenge, PoI-8180 insists crew accompany him to a nearby for-profit prison, where he pays members of staff to allow him a week alone in solitary confinement. Video largely describes the experiences and conversations of friends and crew, who were not allowed inside the chamber and were unable to communicate with him, per his wishes. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0829 I Built a Secret Isolation Chamber in My Couch SUMMARY: Video is implied to be unscripted and unplanned at the time of filming; PoI-8180 converses with the camera candidly, while he explains his desire to hide from friends and crew via an extradimensional space inside his couch.3 Footage intercuts between his own handheld camera and those of distressed parties attempting to locate him, until he is eventually discovered, 45 days later. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0832 I Give $10,000 to Everyone I Know to Leave Me Alone for One Goddamn Day SUMMARY: As the title suggests, PoI-8180 pays ten thousand dollars to each of his distressed friends, family, and crew members, offering paper currency to anyone that comes into contact with him in exchange for immediately leaving his presence. Despite having made several withdrawals in order to faciltate this, an audit of PoI-8180's financial records later reveals that no evidence of these transactions exist. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0833 I Spend 7 Days Buried Alive SUMMARY: PoI-8180 is filming himself, alone in his backyard, where he takes the next several hours to dig a hole large enough to fit a coffin. Piloting a small rental crane, PoI-8180 directs the coffin above the space, lowering it down wordlessly. He is seen towing the conveyor belt from VIDEO #0785 into frame, where he begins piling the displaced soil created from his previous efforts. After another hour, subject appears satisfied. He then activates the belt and walks quickly over to the hole, lowering himself down into the space and out of view. A moment later, he is seen popping back up and quickly climbing out, signing off in front of the camera before scrambling back down and disappearing once more. A short while later, soil is loosely deposited into his gravesite by the converyor belt. PoI-8180 is not seen until the end of the video. The interim is spent as a timelapse of the next week, capturing the discovery of his camera and status by his colleaugues, who react with approapriate alarm, calling emergency services shortly thereafter. PoI-8180 is recovered without issue, who plays off his actions as an extreme stunt and a "survival challenge" similar to those described previously. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0834 I Spent a Month Buried Alive SUMMARY: This video possesses similar themes compared to the previous, but is produced in a way that suggests crew members and friends are aware of and are helping facilitate PoI-8180's burial. Subject agrees to take camcorder with him and wear a chest-mounted body camera. Video contains a truncated series of clips and interviews with friends and crew members, as PoI-8180 is noncommunicative for majority of this period, only talking in short bursts to the camera while spending most of his time asleep or exhibiting symptoms similar to catatonia. At the end of a 30-day period, he is exhumed once more without complication. While noticably thinner and pale in complexion, neither the subject nor his constituents acknowledge PoI-8180's absent need for oxygen, water, or food. Observations from eyewitness testimony suggest PoI-8180's visage improved in the days following the posting of a produced final product. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0835 I Spent Three Months Buried Alive SUMMARY: Largely similar to other videos of this kind, though PoI-8180 is far more resistant to his own disentombment than previously observed. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0836 (ongoing) For Every Day I Spend Buried Alive, $1000 is Donated to Charity, Live 24/7 SUMMARY: PoI-8180 decides to hold a philanthropic solo challenge in which he will donate one thousand dollars to charity for each day he is able to spend buried without impediment. Friends of PoI-8180 exhibit atypical behaviors as well, filming a funeral service in his honor post-interment as content for their own channels, and remaining dressed in funerary attire for the entirety of the time spent on camera. Subject is unclear about which charitable organization would be receiving these donations, however, recovered correspondences between PoI-8180's legal team and a representative of the Manna Charitable Foundation have raised suspicions regarding their potential involvement. WIth the addition of mild amnestic sigils embedded within the broadcast, PoI-8180's monitoring and containment efforts are entirely self-maintained at this point. Daily ad revenue and paid "superchats" accrued from viewers of the live feed have increased steadily since the stream's inception, thus PoI-8180 has been allowed to remain in this state until this is no longer the case. Footnotes 1. Correlation between the effect and its presence being localized to the platform itself appears largely a matter of Alphabet, Inc. (formerly known as Google, Inc.) possessing a monopoly on traffic to platforms of this type. 2. Plurality of which are children ages 11-15. 3. This is the first observation of anomalous reality-warping effects stemming from SCP-8180. Methods shown in video were unable to be replicated. Video was replaced with appropriate cover using a lookalike actor, who began exhibiting SCP-8180 symptoms less than a week after upload. END FILE |
SCP-8180 | uncontained | Any resemblance to existent persons, either real or imagined, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Atone. Atone. Atone. Atone. Atone. Item #: SCP-8180 Special Containment Procedures: Due to the difficulty surrounding complete erasure of relevant information regarding individuals who possess SCP-8180, impacted subjects should be monitored for progressive deterioration via common indicators that typically develop. Given the self-corrective nature of the anomaly, majority of cases do not require Foundation intervention. Nevertheless, personnel assigned to the study of SCP-8180 should remain vigilant. Veil-harmful content is to be taken down upon detection. Replacement of content wholesale should only be permitted as a last resort, when absence of such content is deemed detrimental to Veil operations. Actors used to replace those represented in affected media are to be given daily psychological evaluations, with any adverse results being immediately reported to SCP-8180's project lead. Description: SCP-8180 is the designation given to a collection of behavioral phenomena affecting approximately 0.01% of content creators on the video sharing platform YouTube.1 SCP-8180 behaviors do not always develop in creators that fit the criteria outlined in supplementary documentation, however, a significant trend suggests prolonged exposure to the platform and its audience compounds the likelihood these behaviors will develop. Often, SCP-8180-afflicted individuals experience symptomatic progression of adverse mannerisms to a level of severity in which counterproductive anomalous effects hinder the ability to maintain consistent content creation. Similarly, personal desire to produce videos free of these counterproductive effects diminishes over time, which further complicates personal struggles with emergent ideological shifts that usually occur. Roughly 82% of impacted creators cease or greatly reduce their online presence upon being afflicted with SCP-8180. Study of individuals that maintain a semi-stable brand image despite ongoing developmental disadvantages are of great interest to the Foundation, and are to be observed in perpetuity until such time that significant indicators of Veil-threatening effects are observed. More info can be found below. Preface: PoI-8180 is a notable member of the YouTube community, and as such exhibits a predisposition to SCP-8180-related phenomena. However, a case study of PoI-8180's progression revealed a remarkable deviation from typically observed cases, mostly in the form of a complete absence of effective self-inhibition, bolstered by extreme wealth. Audits and interviews with PoI-8180 suggest that, due to a substantial core fanbase,2 PoI-8180 is able to produce content containing adverse behavior without risk of losing the income necessary to do so. A brief list of impacted videos, and summaries of their contents has been compiled for reference: VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0785 (Control Entry) Lamborghini Vs. World's Largest Shredder SUMMARY: PoI-8180 purchases a luxury vehicle and an industrial metal shredder, then pays contractors to construct a large conveyor belt on which said luxury vehicle is placed. The automobile is guided into the shredder, which shreds the car appropriately. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0792 I Survived 7 Days in the Wilderness SUMMARY: PoI-8180 and a small group of colleagues pay helicopter fleet to transport the group and a small camera crew several miles into the wilderness of Sequoia National Forest, CA. They proceed to backpack and attempt survival "hacks" for the next (truncated) seven days. PoI-8180 notably protested leaving the woods after the seventh day. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0813 For Every 24 Hours Blindfolded, You Win $10,000 SUMMARY: PoI-8180 holds a "blindfold challenge", wherein five of his friends have their vision restricted until they encounter various barriers (both physical and figurative), contact with which ultimately concludes the challenge. Each individual is monetarily incentivized by PoI-8180 to keep their blindfolds on in hazardous scenarios such as driving and preparing elaborate food dishes. Minor injuries are sustained by two of the five contestants. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0817 $50,000 Extreme Hide and Seek SUMMARY: Another "contest" held by PoI-8180, entailing a $50,000 prize for the last person to be found by a hired tracker and alleged bounty hunter. PoI-8180 remained at home for the entirety of video, communicating with the tracker via two-way radio. Upon conclusion of the challenge, PoI-8180 exhibited pronounced disappointment and annoyance. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0820 I Built 100 Wells in Africa SUMMARY: PoI-8180 transports regulars and his camera crew to the outskirts of Kenya, where communities suffer from poor water conditions. The group proceeds to oversee construction of one hundred wells in the surrounding area, over into Nairiri. Constructed wells pull typically inaccessible, potable groundwater upwards for civilian use. PoI-8180 is markedly dismayed that large machinery would be used to bore holes, which immediately necessitate infrastructure to preserve contents. Individual was not present for most of the filming process. According to eyewitness accounts, PoI-8180 spent majority of this time attempting to bore his own holes with hand tools, but found the fruits of his labor underwhelming. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0821 I Spent 7 Days Stranded Alone on an Island SUMMARY: Still dissatisfied by the events of the previous video, PoI-8180 decides to self-administer a "survival challenge" by being airlifted to the uninhabited Polynesian island of Tetepare, where he spends seven days living in relative comfort due to an abundance of supplies and enjoyable weather. Unfortunately, the presence of the camera crew appears to cause PoI-8180 moderate discomfort, which he claims is due to the simulated challenge not being "realistic" enough, given the presence of others and the included food catering services. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0822 I Searched 50 Dumpsters, Here's What I Found SUMMARY: In an apparent rebound, PoI-8180 spends several weeks sifting through fifty dumpsters selected in the Los Angeles area. Due to the camera crew's unwillingness to join him, PoI-8180 is provided a handheld camcorder and chest-mounted body camera to document his findings, which he happily accepts. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0825 Spending 7 Days in Solitary Confinement with the Lights Off SUMMARY: In another self-imposed challenge, PoI-8180 insists crew accompany him to a nearby for-profit prison, where he pays members of staff to allow him a week alone in solitary confinement. Video largely describes the experiences and conversations of friends and crew, who were not allowed inside the chamber and were unable to communicate with him, per his wishes. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0829 I Built a Secret Isolation Chamber in My Couch SUMMARY: Video is implied to be unscripted and unplanned at the time of filming; PoI-8180 converses with the camera candidly, while he explains his desire to hide from friends and crew via an extradimensional space inside his couch.3 Footage intercuts between his own handheld camera and those of distressed parties attempting to locate him, until he is eventually discovered, 45 days later. […] VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0832 I Give $10,000 to Everyone I Know to Leave Me Alone for One Goddamn Day SUMMARY: As the title suggests, PoI-8180 pays ten thousand dollars to each of his distressed friends, family, and crew members, offering paper currency to anyone that comes into contact with him in exchange for immediately leaving his presence. Despite having made several withdrawals in order to faciltate this, an audit of PoI-8180's financial records later reveals that no evidence of these transactions exist. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0833 I Spend 7 Days Buried Alive SUMMARY: PoI-8180 is filming himself, alone in his backyard, where he takes the next several hours to dig a hole large enough to fit a coffin. Piloting a small rental crane, PoI-8180 directs the coffin above the space, lowering it down wordlessly. He is seen towing the conveyor belt from VIDEO #0785 into frame, where he begins piling the displaced soil created from his previous efforts. After another hour, subject appears satisfied. He then activates the belt and walks quickly over to the hole, lowering himself down into the space and out of view. A moment later, he is seen popping back up and quickly climbing out, signing off in front of the camera before scrambling back down and disappearing once more. A short while later, soil is loosely deposited into his gravesite by the converyor belt. PoI-8180 is not seen until the end of the video. The interim is spent as a timelapse of the next week, capturing the discovery of his camera and status by his colleaugues, who react with approapriate alarm, calling emergency services shortly thereafter. PoI-8180 is recovered without issue, who plays off his actions as an extreme stunt and a "survival challenge" similar to those described previously. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0834 I Spent a Month Buried Alive SUMMARY: This video possesses similar themes compared to the previous, but is produced in a way that suggests crew members and friends are aware of and are helping facilitate PoI-8180's burial. Subject agrees to take camcorder with him and wear a chest-mounted body camera. Video contains a truncated series of clips and interviews with friends and crew members, as PoI-8180 is noncommunicative for majority of this period, only talking in short bursts to the camera while spending most of his time asleep or exhibiting symptoms similar to catatonia. At the end of a 30-day period, he is exhumed once more without complication. While noticably thinner and pale in complexion, neither the subject nor his constituents acknowledge PoI-8180's absent need for oxygen, water, or food. Observations from eyewitness testimony suggest PoI-8180's visage improved in the days following the posting of a produced final product. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0835 I Spent Three Months Buried Alive SUMMARY: Largely similar to other videos of this kind, though PoI-8180 is far more resistant to his own disentombment than previously observed. VIDEO # VIDEO TITLE 0836 (ongoing) For Every Day I Spend Buried Alive, $1000 is Donated to Charity, Live 24/7 SUMMARY: PoI-8180 decides to hold a philanthropic solo challenge in which he will donate one thousand dollars to charity for each day he is able to spend buried without impediment. Friends of PoI-8180 exhibit atypical behaviors as well, filming a funeral service in his honor post-interment as content for their own channels, and remaining dressed in funerary attire for the entirety of the time spent on camera. Subject is unclear about which charitable organization would be receiving these donations, however, recovered correspondences between PoI-8180's legal team and a representative of the Manna Charitable Foundation have raised suspicions regarding their potential involvement. WIth the addition of mild amnestic sigils embedded within the broadcast, PoI-8180's monitoring and containment efforts are entirely self-maintained at this point. Daily ad revenue and paid "superchats" accrued from viewers of the live feed have increased steadily since the stream's inception, thus PoI-8180 has been allowed to remain in this state until this is no longer the case. Footnotes 1. Correlation between the effect and its presence being localized to the platform itself appears largely a matter of Alphabet, Inc. (formerly known as Google, Inc.) possessing a monopoly on traffic to platforms of this type. 2. Plurality of which are children ages 11-15. 3. This is the first observation of anomalous reality-warping effects stemming from SCP-8180. Methods shown in video were unable to be replicated. Video was replaced with appropriate cover using a lookalike actor, who began exhibiting SCP-8180 symptoms less than a week after upload. END FILE |
SCP-8181 | thaumiel | Item#: 8181 Level5 Secondary Class: thaumiel Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: notice link to memo Engraving allegedly depicting ritual implementation of SCP-8181 c. 900s BCE. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8181 are primarily self-containing, however are to be maintained continuously by Foundation ritualists and thaumatologists whenever this is not the case. SCP-8181-KEY is to constantly administered by Task Force or security personnel, and knowledge of its nature and contents are to be entirely withheld from the civilian population. Elaborate physical, antimemetic, and conceptual contingencies have been implemented to prevent discovery and infiltration of SCP-8181-KEY by non-Foundation civilian and anomalous actors. Ongoing containment of SCP-8181-KINGDOM is ensured by the continued existence of SCP-8181 operations, the daily peacekeeping operations of the Foundation, and the stipulations of the Veil protocol as dictated by SCP-8181-SEAL. Sequestration of the Prime Earth from SCP-8181-KINGDOM and suspension of all relevant knowledge thereof from the civilian population is the foremost aim of SCP-8181, and constitutes a formatively integral component of the Veil. The Seal of Solomon. Description: SCP-8181 describes ritualistic occult workings and constructs variably devised, discovered, or otherwise maintained and passively or actively utilized by the Foundation in isolating the regions of physical reality subject to the laws of paranormalcy1 from otherwise congruospatially2 accessible Prime Earth-adjacent geographic and dimensional regions so as to ensure Veil enforcement and mutual clandestineness between anomalous and mundane communities wherever possible. SCP-8181 function through various thaumatological methods including noospheric suppression or alteration of civilian knowledge and direct suppression of congruospatiality of anomalous locations3. Congruospatiality and the Hyperway Congruospatiality is a type of relationship between a pocket-dimensional object or location and baseline reality in which metaspatial connectors are so vast4 and/or subtle that the pocket dimension, to the uneducated observer, appears essentially totally integrated into and coherent with baseline as if any other component of the mundane world. Congruospatial relationships are common on the subatomic scale in occult particle physics, and were formerly widespread on the macro-scale on Earth. A Hyperway is a naturally-occurring form of extremely large Way (an avenue of dimensional transport). Hyperways are invisible and cover large geographic regions, merging congruospatial locations by overlaying and constantly inter-transposing the two realities to the point of seamless travel from one to the other as to give the illusion of direct physical travel in 3D space. SCP-8181 are highly varied in composition and practice, though most are effectively self-sustained and continuously active. Among an estimated 10,540 distinct thaumatological functions, three (3) specific rituals have been deemed central to the entire body of work composing SCP-8181; details regarding these, which have been deemed self-perpetuating and requiring no active intervention at the time being, are only available to personnel possessing Overseer clearance or by decree of the Office of the Administrator. The vast majority of outstanding SCP-8181 procedures and ephemera originate or occur around SCP-8181-KEY. Parahistorical record indicates operation of many SCP-8181 instances for a period of almost 3,000 years in continuous duration, these being attributed to the biblical figure and known thaumaturge King Solomon; even those SCP-8181 instances enacted by later groups or individuals, and those adapted or entirely synthesized by the early Foundation, have their methodological basis rooted firmly in the Solomonic tradition moreso than any other branch of thaumaturgy, demonstrating a continuous occult heritage5. The primary directive of SCP-8181 as a collective, certainly in their deployment by the Foundation but likely also by their original creators in many cases, is the isolation of the Prime Earth from SCP-8181-KINGDOM. Since 1881, the repeated integration of SCP-8181 rituals into Foundation operations has allowed for total thaumic closure of an estimated 86% of all Hyperways previously connected physically and dimensionally to the planet, and the antimemetic concealment — particularly following the consequences of the 1891 Snarling Coup — of nearly all paths not yet closed off. Addendum 8181.1: Auxiliary Object Classifications Above-ground view of SCP-8181-KEY. SCP-8181-KEY is an elaborate tomb located beneath the Old City in Jerusalem. Archaeological and para-folkloric inquiry have repeatedly identified SCP-8181-KEY with the tomb of Solomon, who reigned as King of Israel from 970 to 931 BCE. The structure is composed of an above-ground courtyard and a series of subterranean chambers fully hidden from public knowledge. The central chamber of SCP-8181-KEY houses the sarcophagus believed to belong to King Solomon, alongside grave goods including many anomalous artifacts of former biblical and/or mythological status. Since the discovery of SCP-8181-KEY in 1878 (see attached documents), the treasures therein have been employed as Thaumiel objects in the ritualistic implementation of SCP-8181 procedures. For further information regarding the significance of these objects, please consult the attached excerpt on the history of the Tomb of Solomon. Anomalous artifacts and thaumatological procedures recovered from SCP-8181-KEY or based upon those recovered thereof were integral even from the earliest implementations of Veil enforcement policies, most notably in the area of isolating hostile, abnormal and otherwise undesirable anomalous frontiers from the accessible purview of the Prime Earth and its civilian population (see SCP-8181-SEAL). SCP-8181-SEAL. SCP-8181-SEAL is the Convention on Preternatural Phenomena, a charter signed by thirteen preeminent 19th-century occult organizations on December 13th, 1881, immediately following the end of the Sixth Occult War. The primary demands stipulated by SCP-8181-SEAL of the international anomalous community were the formation of the SCP Foundation by syndication of these thirteen organizations and the creation of the Veil, formally establishing the concept of paranormalcy for the first time. Among the directorates and duties imposed upon the newly-created Foundation by SCP-8181-SEAL, the containment of extant subliminal-paraspatial passages between the Prime Earth and anomalous extremity locations was and is of a high priority. In Article 6, Section 2 of the Convention, specific guiderails with regard to containment of "extra-Prime geographies, topographies and other inhabited and uninhabited sections of prenormal reality" particularly including the first documented uses of SCP-8181 procedures derived from the artifacts and rituals uncovered in the then-newly rediscovered Tomb of Solomon are outlined. Archaic atlas including now-obsolete occult geographies. SCP-8181-KINGDOM describes all semi-extradimensional anomalous domains formerly physically-accessible from the Prime Earth, from which the sovereign area of paranormalcy has since been almost completely successfully isolated by SCP-8181. For more information concerning SCP-8181-KINGDOM and recorded knowledge regarding the anomalous locations which compose so-called "Greater Earth", please consult attached documents. Addendum 8181.2: Additional Research Excerpts The Key and the Kingdom Paraarchaeological and Esoteric Historical Context Report on the Tomb of Solomon (SCP-8181-KEY) By Dr. Tobias Friedemann, Dept. of Archaeology; Dr. Bathsheba Crowley, Dept. of Applied Esotericism, et al. The Foundation Archaeologist, vol. 402. 1/11/2023. SCP-8181-KEY is a rock-cut tomb of the type common to ancient Judea. Entrance to the elaborate network of burial caves below is through a stone stairway accessible from the centrally-positioned back facade in the courtyard. Architectural styles are largely characteristic of the earlier First Temple Period, though many techniques and styles exhibited date back to Canaanite work of the late Bronze Age. In addition to the main chamber containing the sarcophagus and most burial goods, tunnels connect to three discovered artifact vaults and a subterranean sanctuary complex featuring an ornately-carved altar. Diagram of ritualistic implements used to perform SCP-8181 rituals as found in the Tomb of Solomon. According to official Overwatch dogma, the tomb was discovered and excavated in the late 1870s by the individual known as The Founder and a number of colleagues before the creation of the Foundation and amid their early research forays into the occult — specifically, within the same Near-Eastern trip during which the Guardian at the Gate would famously command him to Prepare. SCP-8181-KEY most chiefly houses the thaumic artifacts and recorded rituals that were necessary, through outright application as well as reverse-engineering and anomalous replication efforts, in the Foundation's implementation of SCP-8181 as a whole. King Solomon is well known to have created and overseen a number of thaumic workings and anomalous treasures that, according to legend, were made specifically to restrain, bind, and control hostile anomalous forces that would wish to destroy his kingdom, such as demonic entities and extradimensional factions. Indeed, the Foundation officially recognizes the thaumatological contingencies devised by Solomon and his court as the first known implementation of Special Containment Procedures in human history; an integral part of the successorship narrative set up by the early Overseers in light of the Founder's discovery of the Tomb and divine mandate from the Guardian evidencing his perceived right to succession of the ancient containment tradition. Among many hundred smaller rites used by Solomon's men to contain specific objects, and those minor rites still kept active or used regularly and included within SCP-8181, the following is a summary of the more major works attributed to King Solomon. King Solomon appeared to be an expert in restraining and controlling demonic forces; indeed, one of the most integral objects discovered in the tomb by its pre-Foundation excavators was an ancient (believed to be the original) copy of the proto-goetic Key of Solomon grimoire6 — reconstructions and translations of which, in the form of a Lesser and a Greater key, would come to inspire the entire medieval and renaissance tradition of goetic demonology, a practice which many occultists even call the Solomonic Tradition7. Another possession of the tomb that seemed to serve this purpose was the Ring of Solomon, now SCP-8181-KEY-1, which according to legend could be used to "command demons" and establish domination over spirits magically. Testing on 8181-KEY-1 verifies the ability to suppress the occult capabilities of a variety of extra-physical entities; it is believed the term "demon" referred to a group more general than literal Tartarean Entities. In addition to being used in personal self-defense, it is believed Solomon created the Ring to proactively seal occult entities out of reality, in a practice quite congruent with the Foundation's implementation of SCP-8181 to suppress undesirable sub-prime dimensions. Engraving depicting the Iron Crown of Lombardy, a Key of the Solomonic Rite. Perhaps the most famous work of King Solomon, the king's titular Rite, was recorded at some length in the tomb but remained largely unknown in specific terms until the Foundation discovered the Obskurakorps' infamous plan to execute it during the Seventh Occult War, when the death of the entity known to the GOC as LTE-0913-Ex-Machina and to the Foundation as Pluripotent Entity-001-D8 left the planet without a thaumic stabilizer and its magic without any regulatory force, opening the opportunity for a new one to be created artificially. The aim of opportunistically propping up an artificial focal entity during times of so-called thaumic interregnum appears to be the original purpose for which Solomon created his Rite, though it cannot be ascertained whether he utilized it — though the Ring is one of the seven Keys necessary to execute the Rite of Solomon, not all Seven exist within his tomb; many seem to be created after the Rite, suggesting post-hoc alterations, and one even remains undiscovered. The final large-scale thaumic ritual attributed to King Solomon is a vast supertemporal working which allegedly stretched far into the past and future to affect the human perception of the occult toward mythologization rather than scientific understanding. Little of this is known, and much is classified to Overseer-level clearance. As such, we possess not the relevant information nor authority to write on this matter here. [END OF EXCERPT] A World of Myths and Legends Parahistorical Report on the Former "Greater Earth" and its Perception by the Occult World Prior to the General Resolution of 1881 By Dr. Edward Cadmus, on advice of the Joint Depts. of Parahistory, Nexology, Disinformation & Misinformation, Mythology & Folkloristics, Archival Division, et al. The Foundation Parahistorian, vol. 628. 2/7/2019. As it is well-understood to the modern parascientific community that belief molds reality, it should not be surprising that, prior to the advent of the Veil and the physical thaumic consequences thereof, the very geography of the Earth was in some cases almost as mercurial and subjective as the human understanding of it. Hyperways were more than just giant Ways; in covering entire areas of land or water, they allowed transition from Earth Prime to an extradimensional space gradually rather than immediately, and in a manner that was so subtle and considered so ordinary among merchants and explorers that the trans-dimensional component of the travel was hardly ever noticed — indeed, far before the existence of physical Hyperways across distinct geographic areas was acknowledged, missions to many so-called mythical lands were considered possible with mundane vessels of transport for most of premodern history; that is, if one had the right combination of magic hand motions and occult navigation. Occult travelogue attributed to Lemuel Gulliver. Further, these now-anomalous methods were considered hardly more esoteric or foreign to most contemporary seafarers and road-travelers than the use of a map, sextant, or compass. What now the Foundation would classify as pocket-dimensional locations were known to many among the enlightened and occult-aware of pre-normalcy civilizations as ordinary locations where beings of more magical persuasion happened to dwell, and which were in many instances accessible to travelers wise and hearty enough to brave a trip to any physically-distant location. In general, trade and diplomatic missions to even moderate-distance occult civilizations were considered no more unlikely or difficult than those from one edge of the Eurasian supercontinent to the other, and mundane explorers such as Marco Polo counted among the same rank as esoteric ones such as Mandeville. Extensive trade routes to the Elven settlements of the (imagined) North and Serpentfolk states of the (dimensional) South, for instance, were developed and implemented at length by Europeans far before their discovery of the Americas, which (unlike the aforementioned locations) lie within full spatial congruency with the rest of the Prime Earth9. Hyperways were often grouped in networks and overlapped in areas often known as junction points (such as in the Antarctic; see right) when connecting the Prime Earth to a series of dimensionally-adjacent and more extensively interlinked subdomains. Particularly in the instance of interrelated or "bundled" realms, Hyperway passages connected not only the Prime Earth to dimensional extremities composing the Greater Earth, but parts of the Greater Earth to others — recall that the distinction between Prime and accessory Earth dimensions is a construct of paranormalcy, and no such distinction existed to describe the set of dimensionally-connected regions10 during the time preceeding 1881. Traveler attempts to circumnavigate the Great Antarctic Permafrost Barrier (or "Ice-Wall"), an inter-Hyperway junction area, to explore Outer Earth. Estival Gate, Prime Antarctica, 1877. Historiography relating to Greater Earth is often spotty; mass expungement of related documents from the public consciousness during the early implementation of the Veil was often panicked due to urgent circumstances and consequently resulted in the destruction of many primary sources, requiring a great deal of information regarding the Outer Domains and their peoples to be reconstructed manually. Additionally, due to the Prime Earth currently being closed off from the Outer Domains and travel between them banned strictly, very little new information has entered relating current happenings outside the world of Normalcy — this is by deliberate design, but it unfortunately means we effectively have no clue as to events outside our specific sector of Earth any time after 1881, nor can we simply visit the Outer Domains (even under research directives, in most cases) to replace the information that was lost by re-discovering it. Despite the fraught circumstances surrounding the time leading to few surviving pieces of comprehensive documentation, a relatively lucid image of Greater Earth remains in the collective mind of the anomalous underworld on the other side of the Veil. We can be sure that, at any given time, the Subprime Realms housed hundreds or thousands of distinct states and other civilizational units constituting several hundred distinct sapient species. Furthermore, the impact of Outerworlder culture on that of Prime's nations, even with respect to that which is now considered non-anomalous, remains clear to a trained paraanthropologist in many cases. (Incidentally, although the influence of gnomish trapping methods on contemporary French cuisine or the adaptation of the dvergr Machinarcanorruptor into the modern drill bore are interesting stories, they unfortunately do not pertain directly to the scope of this paper: additional information concerning Prime-subprime civilizational interplay can be found on the Foundation paraanthropology portal). When the Prime Earth was cut off from the rest by the implementation of the Veil and the beginning of SCP-8181, the immediate effect across the global occult community was apparently catastrophic. Many more frequently-visited metaspatial regions were allowed to continue harboring transit from Prime but suppressed into pocket dimensions, becoming counted among what are now known as Nexuses; the rest, in most cases, were severed entirely from any contact with what was now to be considered the sole and complete Earth. Hyperways were closed by thaumic rite at extensive length by early paranormalcy actors, and travel between the Prime Earth and adjacent regions was banned even in many cases involving exclusively anomalous and above-Veil actors who happened to reside in the Prime Earth. Major recession ensued as nations were cut off from extradimensional trade; what few colonies and outposts had been established outside the Prime Earth, most agreed to abandon in pursuit of the new normalcy. [END OF EXCERPT] Sons of Solomon The Convention on Preternatural Phenomena and the Dawn of Normalcy By Dr. Hannah Safia, Dept. of Parahistory, Dept. of Disinformation & Misinformation, et al. The Foundation Parahistorian, vol. 600. 4/12/2017. On the thirteenth of October, 1881, a rogue German sect of the Black Lodge killed God. Exactly two months later, the world would decide its thousand-year foray into the occult and arcane had caused devastation so irreconcilable it could not continue; the time for playing with fire was over. The destruction of YHWH remains the greatest catastrophe in modern anomalous history. Overnight, the world's most populous branch of religions found their prayers unanswered, and the traditional occult workings they had been using for centuries they noticed become inert as invocations to a dead god. The Church, now unable to perform its promised miracles upon faith alone, was rendered powerless, and the European occult world of which it lie in the center was uprooted. Across the Mediterranean, the Muslim world likewise stagnated as whatever was left of the Ottoman caliphal claim became worthless and it became obvious the only occult authority actually held by the empire was the court mages in its employ and the imprisoned djinn in its vaults. With the penning of Carver's Laws of Unified Thaumatology still years away in 1881, it seemed the West may never again recreate an occult tradition of any significant scale. Kabbalistic personification of the thaumic regulator entity YHWH. The wanton destruction wrought by rogue feuding mages had already long taken its toll, but the acts of the Lodge in 1881 had proven the final straw. The world drew its line in the sand: this madness could not continue. The Sixth Occult War had to end. The nations of the world came down with the collective hammer and unanimously intervened to end the war with overwhelming diplomatic and (threatened) military force. With the fighting over, the peace would be the next most difficult. The world needed a new approach to the occult so that it could handle the immense repercussions and soon-to-ensue chaos of its late God's death as a unified front. It also, many believed, needed new regulations to ensure non-state actors could never again bring such devastation by the reckless use of anomalies. The occult, they now seemed to think, was best ignored and tucked away; it had cast the whole world into a terrible darkness by bringing us this war, and best be replaced by a new age of logic and enlightenment. Only by seeking refuge in the ultra-modern could we save ourselves, and to do this, we necessarily were obligated to forsake magic. Meetings were held in Paris and New York, and eventually a final one held at the Forbidden City. The world's nations were invited to discuss future collaboration to create a more orderly and safer world having learned the lessons of the Sixth Occult War. An idealist dream had taken over in national seats of power from Washington to Berlin to Tokyo; that separation among nations in the domain of paranormal policy was only an obstruction to peace, and national paranormal agencies should be surrendered in favor of the creation of a singular impartial authority over the whole world. At the center of these negotiations were a brilliant young man — formerly a civilian physicist from Cornell, many believe — who, around a decade ago, had founded a fledgling research group called Foundation alongside a group of friends and colleagues after discovering a never-ending path that filled him with an obsessive curiosity with creating a scientific research of the occult. Paradoxically, it appeared that humble study group shared the identity of one of the world's preeminent international scientific institutions for anomalous research. And so the man who called himself Solomon's son found himself with a seat at the table alongside twelve other leaders. He preached the doctrine of international collaboration and the necessity to unify, at times using it to secure funding and power. In so doing, he cemented his organization as first-among-equals at the center of the vast web that would come to be paranormalcy, with an all-new Foundation ascendant as the lynchpin. This man was called The Founder, for it can be said he more than any of the other twelve layed down the Iron Foundation. A group of delegates attend the Forbidden City Convention. On the thirteenth of December, 1881, the Thirteen assembled for the first time to sign the Convention on Preternatural Phenomena. Her Majesty's Royal Foundation for the Secure Containment of the Paranormal was the first to assent to The Founder's idea. The Foundation plan seemed to sustain London's treasured balance of power in equilibrium and provide the global integration — in both occult military and economy — that Britain sought. High-minded idealist plans of international cooperation and enlightened modernism likewise pleased the liberals in Victoria's cabinet. All that was demanded in exchange was scientific access to locations across the Empire, in which HMFSCP facilities inherited to the new Foundation would prove crucial. L'Estate Noir had long dwelt in the dark and the shadows, despite the notion of a Veil being entirely foreign until this very meeting. To aid French ambitions, it had for years pulled the strings from behind. But now was the modern day; hardly the halcyon days of First Consul Bonaparte's Clockwork Legions and their glorious conquests, and the time for fighting among nations over the occult matter was over. Relations between Britannia and Marianne had long needed improvement, after all: perhaps volunteering to sign on second would do to cut the tension over Africa and lead to a more productive relationship in a new age. The Tsar's Seers (Царские провидцы) most immediately needed a way to survive and remain relevant. The occult had not been Russia's foremost priority as of late; the Seers' equipment had become outdated, and the men who made up the organization old and withering. The Seers' occult tradition was a bizarre mixture of the old Byzantine rite and the practices of the Siberian nomads — a flavor of magic that, however mysterious, was dying if not dead. They needed support from the others to remain in their current place. When France signed on, they took their opportunity. The Imperial German Testing Office for Paranormal Affairs (Kaiserliches Deutsches Prüfamt für Paranormale Angelegenheiten) was as ambitious in these days as could be imagined. New anomalous sciences melded with old-fashioned Prussian militance to create an organization whose prospects were almost frightening at a time when occult agencies were declining elsewhere in Europe. Ever opportunistic, they saw the Foundation plan as an opportunity to legitimize the new Germany as a real power and a reasonable participant in international affairs. As for the rest, they were probably lucky the KDPPA decided to sign on instead of going it on their own. The American Secure Containment Initiative, riding off the heels of Manifest Destiny, fervently believed they knew best for the world. They thought that, given the assumption of a unified Foundation, the bickering of the various member agencies from across the pond would give America the authority as impartial mediator to dictate occult policy globally for a richer, freer, and more stable world on both sides of the Veil. Thus, when a critical mass of Europeans had signed, they followed. What the ASCI perhaps failed to anticipate was the degree of sub-national agency in the new organization, as hardly any formal national agencies ended up retaining sovereignty nor allegiance to their respective motherland. The Devan-e Jaaduyih (دفتر سحر و جادو) had a strong base, but faltered as of late. Once purely and solely loyal to Safavid Persia but becoming independent following the dissolution of that state, the Ottoman government had also began contracting them out in lieu of maintaining their own agency in the 1850s, noticing their efficiency and unique magical methodology. The sublime Office had since suffered from over-extension, struggling to fill the shoes of its role as the sole modern occult agency for the entire Islamic world when its sheer size demanded several, particularly without the central authority of a caliphate and with the looming threat of European domination. They hoped the Foundation plan could remedy this and ensure the safety of the empires they protected. The General Assembly of Thaumaturgists and Theologists was unique, tied not to any particular government and operating all across the West. Founded in Avalon among mostly sidhe, theoretical end-goals of preventing the return of the Mad Queene had since shifted toward general collusion among wizards of different traditions to advance the collective practice of thaumaturgy. This tendency toward international cooperation already made them a great fit, but they waited to sign to secure additional guarantees. Their leader, a cardinal, was a great diplomat: he wanted to make sure the late God would not have frowned upon the new organization, and that the occult world would be treated well and equally. His demands were partially successful, including the passed notion of continuing many former occult settlements in extradimensional Nexus points. The Council of the Dutch East Indies' Special Investigations Board (Raad voor Bijzondere Onderzoeken, Raad van Nederlands-Indië) may have, upon the first glance, seemed to be filled with old men looking to line their pockets and colonists with delusions of living in the 17th century. But their control in the anomalous economy and virtual monopoly over trade routes both physical and dimensional were nothing to be overlooked, and their willingness to collaborate with the plan was greatly appreciated by the new Foundation for its economic prospects. The Inner Africa Expeditionary Society was never going to last. Conceived as King Leopold's brainchild, its operations turned out just about as catastrophic and with just about as heinous a human life toll as would be expected given what his future schemes would come to entail. But the time for their rapacious pillaging was limited, and they knew the Heart of Darkness wouldn't remain so mysterious forever as to justify their inane markups in selling African anomalies. No matter how tall their hoard of stolen occult artifacts grew, the Society knew empire of this sort could not be maintained. Using their contained objects as leverage, they fled to the new Foundation project as a way of going out on their own terms. The Knights of the Military Order of Borja y Aragón were a mystery, even to many of the other delegates at the table. Few knew what had propelled the rag-tag assembly of Spanish witch-hunters and knights to such prominence where the hundreds of similar chivalric orders that existed had failed, holding only local authority at best in an age of increasing nationalism and centralization. Nevertheless, the Order's initiates amassed untold riches from God only knew what dark dealings or far-flung cosmic vistas, and her grandmasters seemed to accrue centuries of age while remaining in health. It is unclear if anyone had the answer to this, but whatever it was, they deemed getting it on their side crucial to the new Foundation. The Bureau of Onmyō (陰陽寮), in later days called the Holy Emperor's Council for Unearthly Matters (怪異なる事物についての聖帝評議会), seemed stuck between the old ways of magic and the new innovations of an ascendant Japan. As Meiji brought factories and gunboats and ballot-boxes, a schism emerged among the Emperor's older advisors between those who embraced the Rising Sun and those who saw only the reckless degeneracy that would destroy it. In the end, they could agree on only one thing: the Foundation plan was necessary, both to further Japan's prospects as a modern power and preserve the magic woven into its more ancient native traditions. The Abnormality Institute (異學會) had protected China in some form for almost a thousand years. Surviving what seemed like a hundred bloody interregnums, the heavenly Institute repeatedly shifted names and dynastic allegiances in pursuit of their proto-containment mission. And though in their early days the Great Qing had brought glory to the Middle Kingdom, reactionary emperors and the absolutism of their mandate over the Celestial Empire seemed more and more to be dragging China down. The Institute had been secret supporters of the Self-Strengthening Movement, and were replaced from within by the entrenched bureaucracy. They had warned a series of emperors about the threat of stagnation and were universally ignored. It was against the will of the Empress Dowager, then, that they decided to break away from centuries of allegiance and independently join the Foundation project to secure their own future. The Solomonic Foundation of the Secure Containment of the Unnatural was the strangest and the most influential. It was their delegate, the man called The Founder, who proposed to merge the thirteen Foundations into one, and proposed much of what we now call the Veil and the purview of SCP-8181. He and his colleagues, at one point the Council of Five Overseers of the Solomonic Foundation, claim to have founded the organization as a humble scientific project in 1872, although records of its existence, including acts of large influence in occult affairs globally, somehow date back to 1824. In these records, an image is painted of a large organization which acts monolithically and in an almost alien manner with regard to other paranormal groups of the time, as if it were a force of nature or total outside observer, despite it apparently being well-known and influential. Indeed, many believe the contradictions of the so-called "First Foundation", that is of the Solomonic precursor's chronology, to be attributable to retrocausal RCT-Δt intervention and the creation of stable time loops, stating it is likely that the pre-1872 actions of the First Foundation are largely attributable to the will of the post-1881 modern Foundation. Depicted above: Common dowsing, one of many acts deemed occult and outlawed upon the instigation of the Veil. The Founder set to work building his Foundation. The Convention on Preternatural Phenomena mandated a Veil to separate the occult world from a newly-created normal one, and as such the infant Foundation's early years were plagued by the seemingly Sisyphean task of radically-restructuring the public consciousness of the Prime Earth to forget anomalous phenomena. The Veil was significantly weaker in the early years, hardly the ironclad barrier we now know — separating public perception of reality from the vast majority of said reality proved a difficult labor, particularly given the arbitrarity of the categorization in some cases: given that virtually every element of existence had some connection to the occult, on what basis was one to decide what should be preserved and what should be forgotten, what the public should be allowed to know from now on, and what not? Furthermore, the immense EVE emissions caused by YHWH's death unleashed thaumic backlash events and other occult instability across the planet, generally increasing unpredictable occult activity globally and the prevalence of anomalous abilities in the human population at a time when the fledgling Veil demanded they be suppressed and curtailed. This made not only the counteraction of these effects but the planned full removal of anomalous factors from the public seem all the more impossible in the near future — regardless, the Foundation prevailed, making slow progress and fighting occult outbreaks in the unstable post-1881 world wherever they emerged. The Veil's implementation was always meant to be gradual, despite how rushed it seemed at times in retrospect. The issues were likewise ironed out gradually: as amnestics entered mass production, disinformation and history-rewriting tools became more widespread in scope, and SCP-8181 continued to be discovered and invented, most anomalous phenomena were forgotten entirely, concealed via disinfo campaigns like Project Pantheon, or could be suppressed upon emergence reliably enough to be considered pacified. But the institution of the so-called Great Forgetting in the mundane public was often only one half of the Veiled coin. Outside the purview of the now-normal society (which was newly classified as the true and entire Earth by the Convention), the rest of the world — those vistas of magic that remained — still stood. Six so-called Prime Continents could be chosen and a safe-haven of normalcy established around them, that much would soon be proven, but once their human populations have been secured and docilized, what is the new Foundation to do with the haven it has constructed? How could they isolate it from the vast occult world that stood just outside its dimensional doorstep? The issue of containing the world of normalcy from the world of magic would prove the second great challenge in establishing a Veil. A goetic circle of invocation from the Key of Solomon; one of many ritual components utilized by thaumo-engineers in the creation of SCP-8181. The Founder emerged with a solution. He would delve into Solomon's tomb and emerge with the rituals necessary to physically sever the dimensional ties that so thoroughly integrated the occult and now-normal worlds, or elsewise with the tools and blueprints for the fledgling Foundation's thaumaturges to devise infinitely more such rites as needed. It appeared the old king once crafted many workings of the type The Founder needed, ostensibly to protect his kingdom from invading nations across dimensional lines once upon a time. This feat11 could be reverse-engineered with the artifacts and grimoires in the tomb to cut off the Hyperways leading to undesirable anomalous locations. If taken to their logically-possible conclusion, the workings were even theoretically replicable on a global scale should they be repeated and spread manually — exactly what the Foundation needed. This tomb and these works were the dawn of SCP-8181. The coming two decades, during which the Veil was gradually implemented on both fronts, became a crusade for all those assigned to SCP-8181 research. The Foundation went marching across and beyond Earth-Prime in an attempt to find and close every last Hyperway; sever every last connection which linked the so-called normalcy bubble to, or in any other way evidenced even the existence of, a world outside of it. And, against what seemed like all odds, by the good work of the Foundation, by the wisdom of the Thirteen and the grace of the Founder, by our deaths in the Dark to carve out a world that knows Light, the job was eventually finished. The effort mostly succeeded, and the world of normalcy we experience today is its direct result. [END OF EXCERPT] Addendum 8181.3 Sacrifice Confers Power As of 17 November 2022, the creation of a fourth SCP-8181 object, SCP-8181-SIGIL, has been approved to further ensure the preservation and efficient enforcement of the Veil protocol in perpetuity. For more information, please consult attached documents. — O5-1 Act II --> Footnotes 1. The civilian world in which the Veil is enforced by paranormalcy organizations, not including anomalous locations such as Nexuses. Hereafter referred to as the Prime Earth. 2. See info-box. 3. So as to render them accessible only through specific dimensional travel methods or defaultly-closed Ways, as with most Nexuses, or more often sever and isolate in its entirety their connection with the Prime Earth as to block Hyperways and prevent reliable physical transport. 4. In number or coverage. 5. As per official dogma of the Overseer Council, the Israelite United Monarchy is considered the first Prime-temporally native Foundation precursor organization. 6. See SCP-8181-KEY-2. 7. Apparently distinct both from the proto-Solomonic tradition of the titular King himself and the neo-Solomonic tradition of the founders. 8. In addition to being an incredibly powerful deific entity, this being happened reign as current thaumic "Fulcrum entity" of Earth — the being in charge of the supply and stable maintenance of EVE on the planet — at the time of its death, which was planned deliberately at the end of the Sixth Occult War to massively destabilize global occult activity. 9. This can likely be explained by the fact that, including the relative level of time and effort used to cross Hyperway links, the distance in time from European principalities to many occult ones was non-negligibly shorter than the distance across the Atlantic, in addition to the existence of centuries or millennia-long cultural and economic ties across many pseudo-dimensional lines contrasting the non-existent links to peoples not yet contacted. 10. (of which the Prime Earth was considered just one, composing a network of co-equal ontologies, even and particularly following the discovery of the Hyperway concept and the disproval of the previously-assumed belief that congruospatial dimensionalities constituted literal extensions of terrestrial geography) 11. Which one should note was remarkable for its time, considering the Hyperways which made prime and subprime geographies technically distinguishable would not be discovered formally until the 19th century CE ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8181" by Ampyrsand, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8181. 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 Iron Worker and King Solomon', 1889 engraving by John Sartain.jpg Author: John Sartain / Christian Schussele License: Public Domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%27The_Iron_Worker_and_King_Solomon%27,_1889_engraving_by_John_Sartain.jpg Filename: Solomon Seal by Abraham von Franckenberg 1639.jpg Author: Abraham von Franckenberg License: Public Domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Solomon_Seal_by_Abraham_von_Franckenberg_1639.jpg Filename: Façade of the Tomb of the Kings.jpg Author: American Colony in Jerusalem. Public Domain. The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fa%C3%A7ade_of_the_Tomb_of_the_Kings.jpg Filename: Traktat brzeski 1918.jpg Author: Unknown author License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Traktat_brzeski_1918.jpg Filename: Vinland Map HiRes.jpg Author: Yale University Press License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vinland_Map_HiRes.jpg Filename: Magische symbole und geräte barrett the magus.jpg Author: Francis Barrett License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Magische_symbole_und_ger%C3%A4te_barrett_the_magus.jpg Filename: Monza Duomo Corona ferrea.jpg Author: Unknown author License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Monza_Duomo_Corona_ferrea.jpg Filename: Voyages de Gulliver dans des contrees lointaines 1863 (145273324).jpg Author: Jonathan Swift License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Voyages_de_Gulliver_dans_des_contrees_lointaines_1863_(145273324).jpg Filename: The American Museum journal (c1900-(1918)) (17974767549).jpg Author: Internet Archive Book Images License: No known copyright restrictions Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_American_Museum_journal_(c1900-(1918))_(17974767549).jpg Filename: Kabbalistic creator.png Author: Unknown author License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kabbalistic_creator.png Filename: The one hundredth anniversary of the Haystack prayer meeting celebrated at the ninety-seventh annual meeting of the American board in North Adams and by the Haystack centennial meetings at (14747318746).jpg Author: Internet Archive Book Images License: No known copyright restrictions Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_one_hundredth_anniversary_of_the_Haystack_prayer_meeting_celebrated_at_the_ninety-seventh_annual_meeting_of_the_American_board_in_North_Adams_and_by_the_Haystack_centennial_meetings_at_(14747318746).jpg Filename: 18th century dowser.jpg Author: Unknown License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:18th_century_dowser.jpg Filename: Goetic circle from The Lesser Key of Solomon.jpg Author: Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers and Aleister Crowley License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Goetic_circle_from_The_Lesser_Key_of_Solomon.jpg Filename: ASCAN 2021 Class Wilderness Survival Training - Jack Hathaway.jpg Author: Robert Markowitz License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:ASCAN_2021_Class_Wilderness_Survival_Training_-_Jack_Hathaway.jpg Filename: Jackalope Crossing road sign (2008).jpg Author: °linda°!° License: Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jackalope_Crossing_road_sign_(2008).jpg Filename: Wonderful Fairies - 72 - Harp.jpg Author: Cora M. Norman License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wonderful_Fairies_-_72_-_Harp.jpg Filename: Mjollnir.png Author: Unknown License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mjollnir.png Filename: Theosophy emblem.svg Author: RootOfAllLight License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Theosophy_emblem.svg Filename: Wappen Deutsches Reich - Reichsadler 1889.svg Author: Design: Emil Doepler d. J. Drawing created by David Liuzzo License: Attribution Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wappen_Deutsches_Reich_-_Reichsadler_1889.svg Filename: Royal Coat of Arms of the United Kingdom (1952-2022).svg Author: None given License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Royal_Coat_of_Arms_of_the_United_Kingdom_(1952-2022).svg Filename: TugsC Ornament Green.svg Author: This vector image was created with CorelDRAW by unknown: antique illustrative ornament . License: Creative Commons Zero, Public Domain Dedication Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:TugsC_Ornament_Green.svg Filename: Ribbon Ornament Black Left Up.svg Author: unknown: very old simple wide-spread ornament License: Creative Commons Zero, Public Domain Dedication Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ribbon_Ornament_Black_Left_Up.svg Filename: Acorn Square Ornament Purple.svg Author: unknown: very old ornament License: Creative Commons Zero, Public Domain Dedication Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Acorn_Square_Ornament_Purple.svg Filename: Twigs4 Ornament Gray.png Author: unknown: antique ornament of twigs in leaf License: Creative Commons Zero, Public Domain Dedication Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Twigs4_Ornament_Gray.png Filename: Leaves4 Ornament Gray Right.png Author: unknown: antique illustrations ornament License: Creative Commons Zero, Public Domain Dedication Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Leaves4_Ornament_Gray_Right.png Filename: Fine Ornament Black L.svg Author: unknown: antique illustrations ornament License: Creative Commons Zero, Public Domain Dedication Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fine_Ornament_Black_L.svg Filename: Germán Riesco(5).jpg Author: Garreaud y Leblanc License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Germ%C3%A1n_Riesco(5).jpg Filename: Coa Illustration Elements Animal Unicorn Passant.svg Author: Arthur Charles Fox-Davies License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Coa_Illustration_Elements_Animal_Unicorn_Passant.svg Filename: Crookes tube xray experiment.jpg Author: William J. Morton License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Crookes_tube_xray_experiment.jpg Filename: D. Carlos de Borbón y de Austria-Este smoking.jpg Author: Nadar License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:D._Carlos_de_Borb%C3%B3n_y_de_Austria-Este_smoking.jpg Filename: Peraldus Knight.jpg Author: Guilelmus Peraldus, Summa de virtutibus et vitiis License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Peraldus_Knight.jpg Filename: Q2TCZnd.png Author: EstrellaYoshte License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/desk-of-junior-designer-s-yvonne Filename: Bundesarchiv N 1603 Bild-014, Rumänien, bärtiger Seemann - Fischer.jpg Author: Horst Grund License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 de Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bundesarchiv_N_1603_Bild-014,_Rum%C3%A4nien,_b%C3%A4rtiger_Seemann_-_Fischer.jpg Filename: Agent 51 2012-01-20 03.jpg Author: IllaZilla License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Agent_51_2012-01-20_03.jpg Filename: Rufolf Meyer Riefstahl with an Unidentified Man by Unknown Photographer.tif Author: Unknown photographer License: Public domain Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rufolf_Meyer_Riefstahl_with_an_Unidentified_Man_by_Unknown_Photographer.tif Filename: ulsoghm.png Author: EstrellaYoshte License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/desk-of-junior-designer-s-yvonne Filename: theme%3Aclock-tower/ctlogo.png Author: JackalRelated License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/theme:clock-tower Filename: The images in Act VII Author: Some Reference License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: Made personally Filename: Coat of arms of the House Holstein-Gottorp-Romanov.svg Author: Unknown License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Coat_of_arms_of_the_House_Holstein-Gottorp-Romanov.svg |
SCP-8184 | keter | A performance that'll have you coming back. Something you won't ever forget. + 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; } Backpedal: A Pseudogenesis Production ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} close Info X SCP-8184: Backpedal: A Pseudogenesis Production ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains topics regarding animal death. ⚠️ content warning ↑ Item#: SCP-8184 Level2 Secondary Class: agare Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: caution link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8184 manifestations have no identifiable pattern. As such, web-crawlers are to continually track its venue and monitor its progression. Given the memetic properties of SCP-8184, civilians undergoing the experience believe it to be completely fictional. This belief is to be maintained through use of MTF Upsilon-33 ("Rushing Critics") to prevent an informational breach.1 Instances of advertisements featuring SCP-8184 are to be nullified through countermemetics and/or confiscated. An example advert is included below for reference: Show Cognitohazard? Hide Backpedal A performance that'll have you coming back. Something you won't ever forget. Limited Engagement Only. Tickets available at venue. SCP-8184-1 Description: SCP-8184 is the anomalous theatre experience known as 'Backpedal', concocted by GoI-478 ("Pseudogenesis Productions"). The venue for SCP-8184, henceforth designated SCP-8184-1, is a black car that appears in various locations throughout the United States. Observation has failed to capture SCP-8184-1 between active spots in addition to any individual associated with GoI-478 manning the vehicle. Attempts to remove the object from any location return similar results, as it is seemingly immovable and indestructible. Individuals within visible distance of SCP-8184-1 undergo a minor compulsion to approach and seat themselves in the driver's seat, gaining vague awareness of the vehicle being a "stage" for SCP-8184. Tickets for the performance are paid2 by placing the money in SCP-8184-1's glove box. SCP-8184 itself mainly consists of memetic and cognitohazardous influences, where the subject experiences a series of intense hallucinations which follow a consistent timeline of events. They serve as the main focal point of the performance, being typically accompanied by another person resembling a close acquaintance, designated SCP-8184-2.3 The show mainly takes place at a house that differs in appearance, with reports stating an inability to detract from the narrative. Following SCP-8184's cessation, the subject is allowed to leave, believing the entirety of it to be fictitious. Apart from the subject and SCP-8184-2 themselves, the story told through SCP-8184 has remained consistent between reports. Addendum: Recording Log Preamble: Below is a video of a civilian undergoing an SCP-8184 event, their perception having been recorded prior to amnesticization. While parts of this footage have been corrupted, it serves as an example of a standard SCP-8184 experience. For the purposes of anonymity, the person in question is hereby referred to as the 'Lead'. Other recordings are stored in the Foundation's main archives. [BEGIN LOG] [Lead first appears seated at a dinner table, with another individual sitting across from them (SCP-8184-2). A kitchen is positioned to their left, with a living room on their right. Pictures of the two are framed on the wall behind them. Judging by a window behind SCP-8184-2, it is assumed to be early in the morning.] [Both persons are eating slices of toast. Lead looks around the room in slight confusion.] Lead: Wh- huh… [SCP-8184-2's eyes dart up at Lead. It swallows its food.] SCP-8184-2: You good, man? [Lead faces SCP-8184-2, pausing for a second.] Lead: Uh, yeah. I just… spaced out for a bit. SCP-8184-2: Alright. My bad, then. Lead: No, don't worry about it. [They take a bite of their toast, smothered in strawberry jam.] SCP-8184-2: (Clears throat) Anyways, I'm gonna head out and buy some groceries after this. You wanna come with? [Lead blinks, pondering the offer for a minute.] Lead: Uh, yeah! Sure. SCP-8184-2: Coolio. [Irrelevant footage of the two finishing their food and Lead insisting on cleaning the dishes has been removed. After this, they both head toward the house's main entrance, opening it and revealing two cats sitting on the other side: one a mature adult and the other a kitten.] [As they crouch down, Lead retrieves a bag of cat food by the side of the door. They take a plastic cup inside said bag and scoop a portion of food, pouring it in a cat bowl and laying it for them to consume.] [They stare at the cats as they eat.] Lead: Aw, look at you! Must be really hungry, huh? SCP-8184-2: Attached as always, I see. Lead: Can't help it. I just love feeding them every day, you know?4 [They try to reach for the smaller kitten, but it immediately scuttles away. Sulking, they pet the other cat instead.] SCP-8184-2: (Exhales) Tough luck. Lead: I'll get him next time. [Lead stands back up again, as the two of them approach SCP-8184-1. They take the driver's seat while SCP-8184-2 sits in the passenger seat beside them.] Lead: We should really adopt them, don't you think so? [Both persons buckle their seatbelt.] SCP-8184-2: Yeah, when we find the spare cash. Lead: I'm sure we can afford it. SCP-8184-2: Mhm. [Lead starts the car, watching as the kitten returns to the cat bowl.] Lead: (Quietly) We'll be back. [Stepping on the gas, they drive SCP-8184-1 out of the open garage and past the gate.] [Lead and SCP-8184-2 return from their shopping trip. It is now early afternoon, with few clouds in the sky. Lead reverses into the garage, parking while conversing with SCP-8184-2.] Lead: Come on. You have to get at least a taste of it. SCP-8184-2: Eh, I don't have much of a sweet tooth. Lead: Sure, you don't. [The next few minutes consist of them talking. Footage is cut for brevity.] SCP-8184-2: Anyways, I'm gonna get the bags. Don't mind me- [SCP-8184-2 opens the door and exits the vehicle. As it steps out, the entity turns to its right and notices something just out of view of Lead. It blinks a number of times before approaching and looking over in visible confusion.] SCP-8184-2: Oh, god. [Lead notices SCP-8184-2 standing before the vehicle, leaning over whatever is out of sight. Unbuckling their seatbelt, they lift their head and attempt to catch a glimpse, though unsuccessfully.] SCP-8184-2: (Shakes head) Yeah, no. It's definitely dead. [Hearing this, Lead quickly leaves the driver's seat and approaches SCP-8184-2. At a certain distance, however, they stop in their tracks.] Lead: Wha… wha- [There is a dead kitten on the ground. Its head appears to be crushed, bearing tire marks along its face. A moment of silence passes as they take a step back. SCP-8184-2 rubs its forehead and sighs.] SCP-8184-2: I, uh… (inhales) I guess you just didn't see it. [Lead's eyes lock onto SCP-8184-2. Their mouth is agape.] Lead: D- Didn't see? What are you… SCP-8184-2: While you were parking. It… it probably just didn't pop up in the rearview, hid in the camera's… blind spots or something, I don't know. I- man, that's just brutal. [SCP-8184-2 watches as they crouch down and stare at the body, scratching the back of its head. Before long, the entity clears its throat.] SCP-8184-2: Okay, let's just go back inside. [They face the entity almost immediately in response.] Lead: I'm sorry? What about this? We can't just… SCP-8184-2: Look, I'll handle it. You can get the stuff from the car, alright? [Pause. Lead eventually stands back up and goes to SCP-8184-1's trunk, taking out a few bags of groceries. While carrying them to the house's entrance, they notice SCP-8184-2 bringing a broom and dustpan. It proceeds to sweep the kitten and walk to a patch of tall grass across the gate.] [They stop for a minute as the entity drops the cat on the ground, attempting to hide it in the tall grass albeit lazily. Their grip on the bags tightens slightly.] [They continue walking.] [Scene changes. It is now night time, and they are seated at the dinner table once again. SCP-8184-2 is eating a chicken salad while Lead spins some spaghetti around their fork. After a moment, the former notices them not consuming their meal.] Relevant image [The entity clears its throat.] SCP-8184-2: Something wrong with the food? [Lead lifts their head. SCP-8184-2 blinks.] Lead: I… I should have checked. [SCP-8184-2 tilts its head as Lead proceeds to put the food in their mouth, chewing albeit slowly. The entity taps its foot as it places down its fork.] SCP-8184-2: (Exhales) Ah, I see. Lead: What do you think? I can't just forget about it. [The entity leans back into its seat.] SCP-8184-2: And that's perfectly fine. I just… you shouldn't beat up yourself about it. Lead: I was holding the wheel. I could've noticed him if I took my time. [Lead places their hands on their head, eyes lowering to the table.] Lead: We should've taken him in- I should've taken him in. Could've stopped this from happening in the first place. I could've ch- checked the mirrors, the camera. I could've looked back, slow down, maybe even stop myself before I… [Lead starts breathing heavily.] Lead: I didn't even bother. I didn't bother to look where I was going. I didn't bother to be more careful. I could've known he was there, I could've spot him from a mile away, but I didn't. I didn't, and now he's dead. I could've just stopped. I should've just stopped. If I did, if I just spent one more fucking second, I could've… [They rub their eyes, trying to control their breath.] Lead: (Mumbles) …What's wrong with me? [Their hands clench into fists. SCP-8184-2 quickly grabs a hold of their right hand.] SCP-8184-2: It's alright, man. I'm here. I know how much it hurts, and I… it hurts just as much seeing you act like this, talk down on yourself like this. Just- just take a minute to breathe, yeah? [Lead's expression changes to that of irritation. They retract both of their arms and point at SCP-8184-2.] Lead: Fuck off. As if you didn't just "bury" him like he was nothing. [SCP-8184-2 straightens itself, eyes widened.] SCP-8184-2: You- you saw that? Lead: Yeah, you did a great job hiding that in plain sight. SCP-8184-2: C'mon, man. I didn't mean to- [They slam on the table, startling SCP-8184-2.] Lead: What, pick up the broom? The dustpan? Drop him on the ground like some heartless bastard? Didn't mean to do what? [SCP-8184-2 furrows its eyebrows, gesturing its hand toward them.] SCP-8184-2: Look, that wasn't my intent. [Lead crosses their arms.] Lead: Oh, yes. Because there's a very reasonable explanation behind what you did. What am I supposed to believe? That you're a person who throws garbage onto the yard because they couldn't be bothered with anything actually respectful? Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. SCP-8184-2: That's not it! I just- [SCP-8184-2 stops to think, briefly looking away from Lead.] SCP-8184-2: I just… you know, I thought it'd be… uh- Lead: Let me guess. Convenient? More convenient for you? Is that it? SCP-8184-2: What? Of course not, you know what I- Lead: No, I know. I definitely know, asshole. Actually- [They shove the table toward SCP-8184-2, standing up and pushing back the chair.] Lead: -fuck this, fuck you. I can't- I just can't- [Lead leaves the scene in a hurry. SCP-8184-2 quickly stands as well, reaching their arm outward to their direction before following them.] SCP-8184-2: Please, man. Hear me out- Lead: Leave me alone, just LEAVE ME ALONE. [They go into their bedroom, slamming the door behind them. SCP-8184-2 tries to open the door but it is locked, resorting them to knock repeatedly on it instead.] SCP-8184-2: I'm sorry, seriously. Just open the door, please. [Silence. They do not respond.] SCP-8184-2: You know I'm not good at wording shit. I just… [No response.] SCP-8184-2: Fuck… [SCP-8184-2 remains for the next few minutes before finally deciding to leave. Lead falls into their bed and can be heard weeping silently for the rest of this section.] [Scene changes. It is later in the night.] [Lead crouches down by the house's entrance before the adult cat meowing at them. It soon goes quiet once they proceed to pet it and scoop a cup of cat food from its package. They pour it in the bowl beside the entrance, watching as it eats.] Relevant image [SCP-8184-2 slowly approaches Lead from behind, standing at a fair distance from them. The entity tilts its head, trying to catch their attention. Its eyebrows are lowered.] SCP-8184-2: Um… hey? [Lead turns slightly in SCP-8184-2's direction before turning back.] Lead: Don't speak to me. SCP-8184-2: I just wanna talk. Lead: Talk to the hand. I don't want to hear anything. SCP-8184-2: I- [SCP-8184-2 bites its lip for a moment.] SCP-8184-2: I made a mistake. I knew better than to treat him like that, and I didn't mean anything heartless by it, but I did it anyway. (Nervous laughter) This is… this is just how I process things, y'know? I didn't have any bad intentions, y'know? [The entity clasps its hands together, bringing it to its chest. It forces a smile.] SCP-8184-2: I don't know, I… I didn't want to be too attached? (Mumbles) Well, it wasn't like I ever grew too close to the lil' guy, but I didn't want to start getting… close. I thought if I got it over and done with, I wouldn't have to feel as choked up. [Lead drops their head, letting out a sharp exhale.] Lead: Are you saying I'm too attached? [SCP-8184-2 shakes its head.] SCP-8184-2: (Rapidly) No, no no. That's not it. Lead: Is it bad that I care? Should I 'get over it'? SCP-8184-2: I'm not saying it's bad! I was only explaining myself. Lead: (Groans) It's too early for this, I know. There's no need to put yourself on the spot. I'll just pretend nothing happened and accept your half-assed apology and move on. Great idea, man. Great idea. [SCP-8184-2 tries to respond, but cannot say anything.] Lead: Honestly, can you… go? Please? (Inhales) How about you treat me like the kitten? Just dump me in the grass and leave me the fuck alone. [A short pause. The entity walks off as Lead remains by the door. They blink, rubbing their eyes and appearing lost in thought.] Lead: (Inhales) I swear… [They spend more time staring at the cat, periodically petting it.] Lead: You seem to be holding up well. [For the next 15 minutes, Lead stares at the ceiling of the bedroom, eyes open. They do not sleep.] Relevant image [They are now outside the house, walking toward the gate and drawing it to the side. Their pace starts to slow before they stop right before the tall grass. Lead lays their eyes on the kitten's body on the ground.] Lead: (Sighs) You didn't even have a name… [As they continue staring, Lead crouches and blinks a number of times. They check their wristwatch, shaking their head.] Lead: (Under breath) It's one in the fucking morning. What am I doing? [They look at the sky, breathing in and closing their eyes temporarily.] Lead: I enjoyed feeding you, you and your mom. I… I couldn't get enough for amenities, but the routine was already fulfilling in a way. Always had that thought in the back of mind, the thought that I could take you in and raise you. (Chuckles) Maybe you could even open up and let me scratch your chin or something. [They wipe their face, sniffling.] Lead: I could've stopped this, I should've stopped this. In some other timeline, I'd have played with you, buy you toys, maybe share a spot for you in bed. I guess being open about it kind of helps, I don't think keeping it in is really healthy. [They let out a cough, wiping their face again.] Lead: Still, it would've been nice. Having you here, enjoying the comforts indoors, that would've been nice. (Grips chest) Who knows… I know I won't. [A short pause follows. They return their gaze on the kitten.] Lead: That's it, I guess. I… I hope you know I'm sorry, and I hope you're resting peacefully despite me. I'll be sure to look out more, for your mom. [They ponder for a minute before standing up and brushing off their clothes.] Lead: (Tilts head) I could at least give you a proper burial- [The sound of footsteps are heard, causing Lead to face its direction. SCP-8184-2 is there by the gate, immediately taking a step back. They remain for a few moments.] Lead: What the hell are you doing here? SCP-8184-2: Ah, well… [SCP-8184-2 swallows, staring at the ground.] SCP-8184-2: Just wanted to check on you, is all. You, uh- [The entity points its thumb at the vehicle.] SCP-8184-2: You wanna take your mind off things for a bit? [Silence. Lead glares at SCP-8184-2 for a bit.] Lead: …Whatever. [They are now inside SCP-8184-1, with -2 in the driver's seat and Lead sitting in the back. They do not speak for the first few minutes, as the latter looks away from the former. Logs recovered from these performances have failed to capture the view from beyond the windows.] [Soon, Lead breaks the silence.] Lead: Where are we even going? SCP-8184-2: You'll see. I figured we should, y'know, talk for a bit. I mean, I've been a broken record about this, but I wanna set things straight. Lead: You've had a lot of chances already. SCP-8184-2: I'm aware. (Pause) But I'm serious, I want to make up. [Lead furrows their eyebrows.] Lead: Maybe I'm overthinking this. I know you're being- or well, trying to be genuine. Definitely doesn't help with how you treated him, but I know you're not going out of your way to tick me off. SCP-8184-2: Right, I was- Lead: (Clears throat) You're not out of the woods yet, dude. You're still a bitch. [They rub their forehead.] Lead: Thing is, you've been acting like this. This wasn't even a first. [They glance out the window, clicking their tongue.] Lead: Remember your uncle? [Pause. SCP-8184-2 briefly glances at Lead.] SCP-8184-2: Wh- Where is this coming from? Lead: It's just… we'd go to his house every weekend. We'd play games on the Switch- uh, well, we'd mostly play Mario Party. Super Mario Party, that is. SCP-8184-2: 'Cause that's the only game you're good at. [SCP-8184-2 clears its throat.] SCP-8184-2: Sorry. Don't- don't mind me. [Lead takes in a deep breath.] Lead: Well… I heard he died a few months back. [A moment of silence passes as they shoot a glare at SCP-8184-2.] Lead: You didn't even attend his funeral. SCP-8184-2: How'd you even- Lead: Your mom told me, genius. Really, I got it from my mom. She got it from your mom, but whatever. (Inhales) It's like you didn't want to see it, like you didn't want to believe it. She told me you just ignored her messages till she stopped bothering. [SCP-8184-2 does not respond.] Lead: Fuck's sake. You could've at least been there for him. He bought you that Switch for your birthday, and you still couldn't go? What, couldn't find the time? SCP-8184-2: I- I just couldn't, okay? I know if I came, if I saw him being lowered, that I'd just… break down on the spot. I know he's dead, I know he isn't coming back… but I… (pause) I didn't want to make that realization. Lead: This isn't about you. This is- ugh… [Lead looks to the ceiling and sighs.] Lead: People react to shit in different ways. You're no different, I know that. I know you care, and you don't mean to act… indifferent. [They wipe their face down with their hand.] Lead: But you got to know, you're not helping anyone like this. You're just being inconsiderate, even if that's not the case. I don't- I (holds breath)… I don't want to put you on the spot, but seriously, you're not the only person going through that shit. Your mom's there, your dad's there, I'm here… We're here… [They face SCP-8184-2.] Lead: We're here for you, for each other. Don't just… isolate yourself like this. Don't be acting like this. Don't do this as if no one else cares. [They squint, trying not to cry.] Lead: Please. Do better next time, okay? [SCP-8184-2 lowers its eyebrows, readjusting itself in its seat.] SCP-8184-2: Right, I'm sorry. I… I really am, I'll… I'll do better. Lead: You promise? [The entity tightens its grip on the steering wheel.] SCP-8184-2: I promise. [Lead leans back, staring at the car's ceiling. A large portion of the footage following this contain mostly silence between both individuals and has been removed for brevity. They soon arrive at their destination: a clearing by the side of the road surrounded by trees.] [They park SCP-8184-1 and step outside, walking a short distance from the vehicle. They take a moment to gaze at the stars.] Relevant image Lead: Where are we anyway? SCP-8184-2: Somewhere. I like to come here from time to time. [The entity faces Lead, struggling to maintain eye contact.] SCP-8184-2: (Gulps) Look, I… [SCP-8184-2 looks down, trying to think. They let out a deep breath.] SCP-8184-2: I… I've been brushing this aside, I know that. I figured: "Hey, maybe if I look away long enough, he'll be there when I look back. He'll be talking to me like usual, like he wasn't gone at all." I never said it out loud, but… y'know. [SCP-8184-2 scratches the back of its head.] SCP-8184-2: But no, this isn't it. I shouldn't be doing this. Everyone's here, here for me. I should be there for them. I shouldn't… shove them out. I shouldn't have ignored your feelings. I'm… sorry. For being insensitive. Lead: It's alright. At least you understand. [Time passes as they slowly come into an embrace, which lasts for a few minutes. Both persons start to tear up, but eventually, they stop and turn to the night sky. Lead crosses their arms, showing a slight smirk.] Lead: View's nice. SCP-8184-2: Yeah? Lead: Yeah… [The remainder of this section consists of them taking in the view.] SCP-8184-2: What're you doing there? Lead: Hm? [Both persons are in the living room. There are a number of materials on the table, with Lead seated holding a thread and needle.] Lead: Doing some knitting, really. SCP-8184-2: Hm, I figured. (Clicks tongue) Looks just like him, too. Lead: Yeah, I was hoping it did. It's hard until you get the hang of it. SCP-8184-2: You're telling me. [SCP-8184-2 eyes the items on the table.] SCP-8184-2: So, you doing better now? Lead: (Inhales) I'm doing alright, I suppose. SCP-8184-2: (Nods) Good to hear. Lead: Mm… [Lead continues knitting. After a while, they smile at their progress.] Lead: (Under breath) Nice. SCP-8184-2: (Off-camera) Hey, gonna head out for a minute! Wanna come with? [They turn to the direction of SCP-8184-2's voice.] Lead: Uh, yeah! Alright. [They quickly set down their stuff and brush off their clothes before heading out the door. Standing by the entrance, they see SCP-8184-2 already inside the car. The entity waves at them momentarily.] [As they close the door behind them, Lead looks to the patch of grass across the gate. There is a small piece of wooden plank protruding from the ground, containing text which cannot be read from their current distance. They form a grin.] [Before long, Lead approaches SCP-8184-1 and occupies the passenger seat. They take in a deep breath before turning to SCP-8184-2.] Lead: Thanks again. SCP-8184-2: Huh? For…? Lead: You know- [They tilt their head toward where the wooden plank is.] SCP-8184-2: Oh, right. No, there's… no need to thank me. Lead: You're trying. That's good, don't you think? SCP-8184-2: I guess. [SCP-8184-2 shifts in its driver's seat and sighs.] SCP-8184-2: Anyways, I've heard a new place opened around here. Figured we should take a looksie. You haven't had the chance to eat, yeah? Lead: Mm, nope. SCP-8184-2: Cool, cool. I, uh, was also hoping… [A moment of silence passes as SCP-8184-2 bites its lip.] SCP-8184-2: I was thinking about visiting… visiting my uncle. If- if you don't mind. Lead: Facing it head on now? SCP-8184-2: Yup. Lead: Not avoiding it anymore? SCP-8184-2: No… I know better now. Trust me. Lead: I trust you, I trust you. [SCP-8184-2 nods along as it proceeds to start the engine. Both persons wait a few seconds as the entity steps on the gas pedal.] Lead: (Mumbles) One day at a time… [As they pass the front gate, the show reaches its conclusion.] [END LOG] Ending Statement: Despite what the above suggests, SCP-8184 itself had lasted for approximately five minutes. Lead in particular never owned a pet prior to this log, but decided to adopt two cats following the experience. Relevant image Footnotes 1. Agare: Item is perceived as fictional, and therefore, containment is focused on the continued belief that all anomalous effects are 'part of the show'. 2. Being nominally priced at around $5 USD. 3. It should be noted SCP-8184-2 is also part of the hallucination. 4. Lead possesses no memories of this prior to this log. More From This Author More From This Author winkwonkboi's Works SCPs SCP-7156 (+21) • SCP-6545 (+76) • SCP-7488 (+46) • SCP-6895 (+31) • SCP-5358 (+54) • SCP-7816 (+58) • SCP-6245 (+63) • SCP-6199 (+134) • SCP-6714 (+96) • SCP-7657 (+39) • SCP-4931 (+32) • SCP-6039 (+72) • SCP-8386 (+33) • SCP-6306 (+53) • SCP-8245 (+76) • Tales/GoI Formats Something's Burning (+40) • A Sinking Feeling (+26) • Why Jones Marcel Should Be Employee of the Century (+11) • People Care, Dear (+14) • In Kirby's Case, Part I: An Antithesis (+11) • A Taste For Sore Eyes (+12) • Anomalous Entity Engagement Division Orientation (+51) • In an attempt to feel something. (+32) • ur typical unrequited love (+32) • water diet (+27) • Roses And Thorns (+18) • Critter Profile: Miss Cassandra! (+37) • #WettleAppreciationPost (+135) • man overboard! (+29) • Goodnight, Sweet Dreams (+21) • Other ENLIGHTENMENT: SCP-6059 Fanart (+42) • RESPOND: Telecommunications Monitoring Office Fanart (+48) • ARTWITNESS: SCP-5843 Fanart (+30) • Certified Criminal (+36) • DITTO: SCP-#### Fanart (+42) • fading stars doodles (straight from my phone's sketchbook app) (+35) • King CalcaRuler: Halloween Emperor (+29) • 7K DOODLES (+72) • Collection Of Trolls (8999 Fanart) (+89) • COMBUST: SCP-6057 Fanart (+22) • SCiPTEMBER DOODLES (+23) • a lack of care. (+28) • CRACKHEAD: SCP-173 Fanart (+31) • froot froggo :) (+41) • HELTHY: SCP-6780 Fanart (+29) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8184" by winkwonkboi, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8184. 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: theshow Name:Black car, white tree Author: spaceodissey License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: carbonara Name: Mmm… spaghetti carbonara Author: jeffreyw License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: mama Name: Cat and Cat Foods Author: No machine-readable author provided. NekoJaNekoJa~commonswiki assumed (based on copyright claims) License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: midnight Name: Midnight Dream Author: MarcCooper_1950 License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: starsight Name: February #conservationlands15 Social Media Takeover: Top 15 Places on National Conservation Lands for Night Sky Viewing Author: mypubliclands License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: likeness Name: Kitty Author: Erin Perry Borron License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr |
SCP-8185 | euclid | SCP-8185 seen searching for ingredients. Item #: SCP-8185 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8185 is kept in a standard small mammal containment chamber fitted with an appropriately model-sized kitchen on Site-54. SCP-8185 is to be provided with cooking ingredients and Tupperware containers on a daily basis. Description: SCP-8185 is a sapient northern raccoon (Procyon lotor) capable of preparing and cooking dishes of comparable quality to human made food. SCP-8185 is able to understand and communicate in English. Discovery: SCP-8185 was discovered in the public grill area of Cooper Park, Cooperstown, New York, where various inhabitants of the town had come across a gathering of raccoons centered around SCP-8185, which was grilling and serving various plates of rotten food scraps and garbage to the non-anomalous raccoon population. Multiple raccoons swarmed Foundation personnel during the initial capture of SCP-8185. They had attempted to reach and free SCP-8185, by latching onto its hindlegs and pulling downwards, while others began clawing at and biting Field Agent Skinner, who had grabbed SCP-8185 by the scruff of its neck. During transportation to Site-54, the following body camera interaction was recorded between SCP-8185 and Field Agent Skinner. VIDEO RECORDING [BEGIN RECORDING] [Extraneous recording prior to the incident has been removed] SCP-8185: What the hell’s your problem, pal? Skinner’s camera suddenly shakes. Skinner then points it directly at SCP-8185, which is currently poking its nose through the cat carrier. Skinner: Huh? SCP-8185: Aren’t you a tough guy? Can’t even talk back to me, can you? Skinner: Uhm, okay… You can talk, hm, that’s… SCP-8185: Yeah, I can talk. Damn straight I can talk. I am out here, mindin’ my own business in the park. Great cookout for the family, y’know and you come out here, ambush me and uncle Pat, and toss me around. Lucky I had my guard down pal, or it would have gotten real ugly. SCP-8185 is heard snickering in its cage, before light taps are heard, emanating from the side of the box. SCP-8185: One, two, whoosh, swoosh. SCP-8185 can be seen ducking and weaving within its crate. Skinner: What are you doing? SCP-8185: I was just showin’ you my moves. If you had gone at me mano a mano, I wouldn’t be in this car right now. But, I can look past you being a wuss, if you turn this car around. We can forget about this whole awkward encounter, yea? Skinner: You certainly weren't trying to fight mano a mano. I'd demolish you in the ring, so shut your mouth. And besides, I don’t think you’re in a position to be making any type of demands. SCP-8185: Nah, nah. I see how it is. You probably aren’t in charge, are ya’? Can't tell the driver what to do? What are ya', a little errand boy? Skinner: No. I am a Special Agent, tasked with the most important recovery missions actually, in case you wanted to know. But the point is, you’re not going back, little guy. You’re coming with me. In case the carrier didn’t tip you off. So who's the errand boy now? SCP-8185's face pulls away from the grate. Skinner: That's what I thought. SCP-8185 remains silent for the rest of the car ride. Occasionally faint scratches and sporadic whimpers can be heard. SCP-8185’s tail is seen hanging loosely through the grate. [END RECORDING] Addendum SCP-8185-A: Initial Interview Interview Transcript [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT] SCP-8185 sits at a desk, its head laid flat on the table. Its ears perk up as Dr. Gusteau enters the room, carrying a small manila folder in his hands. Dr. Gusteau: Good morning! I’m Dr. Gusteau and I’ve been assigned as the lead researcher to study… well, you. SCP-8185: Thank god, someone’s finally here. You must be the boss, yeah? Wearin’ a lab coat, callin' yourself doctor. Yeah, you gotta be the boss. You have to help me. My people back home, they must be worried sick. Ma’s fur must be turnin' gray as a rock right now. SCP-8185 scratches the back of its ear with its hindleg, pieces of fur sticking to the individual claws. Dr. Gusteau: Sorry, no can do. You are what we consider an active threat to normalcy. Even if we were to release you, they'd just send some poor Field Agent to come right back out and contain you again. You’re a special kind and I promise we will take care of all of your needs. SCP-8185 shrugs. SCP-8185: Well, I need to go ho- Dr. Gusteau: Reasonable needs. SCP-8185: Listen, I get it. Talkin’ raccoon, hell of a guy on the grill. Makes a terrific patty melt. You’re mightily impressed and think bagging yourself a trophy will earn ya' major props. But you’re the boss. What props could ya’ need? It ain’t worth a lick of salt with the things at stake here. I won’t have any needs, unless I can see em’ all again. Dr. Gusteau plops the folder down on the table and glances at the initial page reading “Discovery Report”. After a slight chuckle, he glances back up at SCP-8185. Dr. Gusteau: First of all, I am not the boss. I really am just Doctor Gusteau. One of many at this site. Dr. Gusteau pauses shortly before shaking his head. Dr. Gusteau: Anyways, second of all, you can’t talk or fight yourself out of this one. It’s protocol. You could be the most likable and charming raccoon in the city, and my opinion wouldn’t change. Tell you what though, how about I get you something to cook with, yeah? Make some of those patty melts? Dr. Gusteau smiles, as SCP-8185 licks its lips. SCP-8185: I mean, food’s cool, yeah. But… SCP-8185 pauses, beginning to itch the back of its ears once more, large tufts of fur sliding off, with individual hairs slowly falling onto the table. SCP-8185: Maybe some Tupperware too? Rough town out there. Rats been takin' all the good scraps, climbin' in little holes, our fat bodies can't reach in no more. Ya' know the city issued an order to lock all the dumpsters? Raccoonphobic council, tell ya' what. Dr. Gusteau: Right, well that’s up to my supervisor. Typically nothing is allowed to leave this site, but I’ll see what I can do for you, okay? At the very least, I’ll get some of that food started for you, okay? SCP-8185 locks eyes with Dr. Gusteau and extends its left front paw outward. SCP-8185: It really would be important, ok? I promise, no funny business or nothin’. I just want em’ to know I’m still around. Dr. Gusteau lightly grabs SCP-8185 paw and lets it attempt to muscle his hand up and down. SCP-8185 is heard grunting, but slight movement is observed. Dr. Gusteau: Strong guy. I promise I’ll ask around. Following the interview, Dr. Gusteau requested that appropriate ingredients were to be provided for SCP-8185. This request was granted. Addendum SCP-8185-B: Video Recording Foreword: Following the approval of ingredients being dispensed to SCP-8185’s containment chamber, a camera was set up to monitor its reaction and behavior. Video Recording [BEGIN RECORDING] A large cardboard box is dropped from a chute installed inside of the eastern wall of SCP-8185’s containment chamber. The box makes a loud thump, causing SCP-8185 to hiss as its body tenses up. The box has a large film of duct tape covering up parts of the box. Sharpie text reading “Ingredients for SCP-8185” is seen covering the tape. After a few minutes, SCP-8185 begins to slowly approach the box, sniffing around the edges, and pawing at its outside. Eventually, SCP-8185 opens the box and after an additional whiff of its surroundings, dives in head first, its tail being the only part of its body to remain visible, wriggling around, while SCP-8185 snickers. SCP-8185: I've hit the motherload… SCP-8185 emerges from the box, as it begins to tilt. Ingredients scatter across the floor, as SCP-8185’s head hits the metallic floor. Getting up on its hindlegs, it shakes its head. SCP-8185: No rot and no mold. It’s still even got its color! SCP-8185 sniffs itself, before grabbing multiple ingredients and wandering towards a small table. It sets its ingredients down, tilting its head in one direction, before swiftly changing to the other. It grabs a package of ground beef and begins gnawing at the plastic cover, peeling it off. SCP-8185: I’ve seen Ms. Sullivan from the northside buy this brand before. No dumpster had stuff of this quality, even when the richies forgot to lock theirs that one month. SCP-8185 hops onto the countertop, flipping the package upside down, as the grey meat slowly edges closer to coming loose, before plopping down in front of SCP-8185’s paws. It spreads the individual twists of raw beef, beginning to shape them into roughly round shapes, licking its fingers in between working them back into the pile of meat. SCP-8185 then takes a large handful, and stuffs it deep inside its mouth. Chewing a few times, before suddenly spitting out the remains. SCP-8185: What the fuck am I doing. It’s fine, it’s all fine. Plenty of good stuff left, let's keep it out the mouth, yea'? Can't feed no one that stuff. SCP-8185 finishes shaping up the last bits of the beef. Turning to the stove, it grabs a pan and sets it onto the electric burner. SCP-8185 drops the individual patties in and squishes them down with its paws. Slowly, the patties turned from a light gray and pink to an anemic gray. SCP-8185 pulls them from the heat and sets them onto a plate. SCP-8185: God, that looks like shit. I’d kill someone with this, not even sure I'd feed it to the rats, even they deserve better than this garbage. Get it together you moron. SCP-8185 turns back towards the stove, its tail knocking the plate onto the ground. Ceramic shards sliding across the floor, a slight scraping noise echoing through the chamber. The chunk of meat staying largely intact. SCP-8185 drops down and proceeds to eat whatever remained, before curling up into a ball and going dormant. Various whispers could be heard in its sleep, as it frequently twitched and turned. Only the following could be recorded by the microphone. SCP-8185: You gotta be better. You have to be better. You'd be lucky for em' to touch ya' food again, you moron. Remember, it’s all for them. It’s all for them. Get it right. [END RECORDING] Note: Additional deliveries of ingredients would mostly be used inadequately or be instantly eaten by SCP-8185. While SCP-8185 grew in size, larger patches of barren skin became noticeable. Janitorial staff reported numerous personal injuries during the clean-up periods. Supply was to be halted at the order of the Site-Director. Dr. Gusteau protested and appealed the decision. Dr. Gusteau affirmed that if his appeal was granted and SCP-8185 would continue to waste the provided ingredients, he would cover the lost costs himself. Addendum SCP-8185-C: Follow-Up Interview Interview Transcript [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT] SCP-8185 is kept in the carrier used during its initial transport to the site. Dents are clearly visible. Dr. Gusteau enters holding various pictures of SCP-8185 during its various cooking attempts. He sets all but one down neatly on the table, choosing to take another look at the final picture. He shakes his head and chuckles, before carefully pushing it through the grate of SCP-8185's carrier. Dr. Gusteau: Good morning, glad to see you again buddy. SCP-8185: I’m not your buddy. Dr. Gusteau: Right. Dr. Gusteau coughs and scratches his left arm. Dr. Gusteau: I know you’ve been having trouble… adjusting to Foundation life. And trust me, that’s perfectly normal. That picture I just handed you, I want you to give it a look. Something is heard rustling within the carrier, before a bundle of paper is tossed at Dr. Gusteau’s head, striking him on the nose. SCP-8185: You came here to make fun of me, did ya’? Aren’t ya' so strong? Make fun of the beaten down raccoon, why don't ya? Dr. Gusteau: No, I didn’t come here to make fun of you. Quite the opposite actually. I showed you that picture, because I want to remind you of what you told me at the start. You called yourself a “hell of a guy on the grill”. I remember it quite well, actually. This picture shows that. While the technique is certainly… unique, you are able to manage with everything I throw your way. SCP-8185: You throw my way? Dr. Gusteau: Site director has had enough, quite frankly. Cut funding to your cooking weeks ago. All these pictures here… Dr. Gusteau hands the remaining pictures to SCP-8185, which stretches its paws out of the grate, revealing slight cuts and burns. Dr. Gusteau: They’re all using my ingredients. Stuff I went to the store for, I even have this cute little notepad… Dr. Gusteau takes a notepad out of his breast pocket, black and gray streaks run alongside the edges. Dr. Gusteau: Reminded me of you, is all. It’s my SCP-8185 shopping list. I go out there every week. SCP-8185: Ahh, I get it now. You come here, and remind me how all the nice stuff ya' buy me, which I transfer straight into dumpster fodder. Real kind of ya’. I’m not having it though. Dr. Gusteau: No. Wrong again. I’m here to let you know, that whatever you toss out. I keep. The stuff that hasn’t kissed the floor anyway, or the inside of your nostrils, or the literal inside of your mouth. I eat it, colleagues think I’m crazy. Earned me the nickname “Dr. Racuckoo-n.” Dr. Gusteau mocks the sound of a cuckoo clock while rotating his finger clockwise. He laughs and tries to peer into the carrier. SCP-8185: Serves ya' right for em' to call you that, eating that garbage I've made. Not even Lou would eat that, and trust me, he's been a sewer raccoon. Might smell em' from here, if ya' try hard enough. Dr. Gusteau: Listen, you're adjusting to a new place, new stove. Hell, have you ever used a stove before? Don't count yourself out, I know I'm not. So you shouldn't either. SCP-8185 presses its face up against the grate, before swiftly pulling back as Dr. Gusteau looks back. Dr. Gusteau: I know that this place is new, and it’s pretty scary. Family thousands of miles away. But, you’re not alone in this fight. I am putting myself directly into the crossfire of cafeteria gossip for you. Figure you wanted to know that, bud. SCP-8185: Frank. The name’s Frank. Though, bud works just fine. SCP-8185 reaches its paw back out of the grate, motioning it up and down slowly. Dr. Gusteau eventually grabs it, and this time gently shakes its paw. SCP-8185: Strong guy, aren’t ya' doctor? Dr. Gusteau: You can call me Jean, bud. SCP-8185 snickers, and hands the pictures back to Dr. Gusteau, hesitating to return the final one. Dr. Gusteau: Keep it, it’s okay. [END TRANSCRIPT] Addendum SCP-8185-D: Post Interview Recording Video Recording [BEGIN RECORDING] SCP-8185 is seen staring at the door to its fridge, focused on an image, loosely attached by a piece of torn tape. It nods at it once, before reaching inside and pulling an array of meats and vegetables. SCP-8185: I'm back. SCP-8185 turns to the stove, waddling over with its paws full. It sets the ingredients down onto a cutting board, and begins to carefully slice carrots, celery and onion. As it removes the root end of the onion, SCP-8185 flinches as the knife comes down onto the wooden board. Its fur around its paw stained slightly pink. SCP-8185: Fuckin' mother… SCP-8185 turns to face the fridge again. SCP-8185: It's okay. It's okay. SCP-8185 washes its paws, its face scrunching as the water runs down the open wound. It looks up at a security camera, latched onto the western wall of its cell. SCP-8185 nods once, before continuing to prepare its sofrito, slicing the remaining ingredients quickly and precisely. SCP-8185: Get ya' act together, man's hungry. SCP-8185 adds splashes of oil to the pot, tossing its diced vegetables in, and stirring ever so slowly. A few minutes pass, before SCP-8185 adds bits of tomato paste and ground beef. SCP-8185 remains calm, unfased by the loud sounds of the beef cooking over the hot oil. SCP-8185 deglazes with a cup of beef stock, and red wine, before taking a whiff of the remaining drops in the bottle. SCP-8185: Oof, coulda dropped a few more dollars on the wine there, bud. Throughout the cooking process, as SCP-8185 tastes and reseasons its prepared ragu, it returns to the fridge, staring at the picture dangling above. After several hours of cooking pass, SCP-8185 takes a final taste of its created meal, closing its eyes, and slowly tilting its head back and forth. Its tongue wraps around its fingers, flicking off individual blobs of sauce into its mouth. It carefully places some of the contents of the pot into a bowl, before tiptoeing over to the west side of its chamber, the bowl remaining perfectly still with each step. It finally settles down and peers up at the camera, before swifly shaking its head and rushing back over to the stove. Within seconds, SCP-8185 scoops a portion into a pink Tupperware container, before hurrying back to its spot. It slides the container across from itself, before looking up to the camera one final time, while eating a spoonful of Ragu. SCP-8185: This one's for you, bud. I'm back, baby! [END RECORDING] Addendum SCP-8185-E : Dr. Gusteau’s Note “Dear good bud, I have a confession to make to you. All the recent meals you’ve been making me, from butter chicken to goulash to bolognese, I haven’t been eating all of it. Though I doubt you could blame me when you've been able to pack me multiple containers full! They’ve all been making the rounds around the office. Each dish you’ve made, smash hit! I've got a request, bud. My birthday's coming up, and I've gotta host the company party. It's part of the culture here. Boots may be quite large for your back paws to fill, but I was wondering if you could help cater? I'll talk to the Director about it, if you'd still be willing to share your meals with the others. Though, in a way you already have been. Sorry again! I know we may not be black and white or dive in dumpsters all that much, but I hope you at least have found a bit of Cooperstown at Site-54. Your bud, Jean” ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8185" by Not Noodles, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8185. 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-8185.jpg Name: Raccoon_in_a_garbage_can_in_Prospect_Park_(72564).jpg Author: Rhododendrites License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Raccoon_in_a_garbage_can_in_Prospect_Park_(72564).jpg |
SCP-8186 | ticonderoga | Her brand new department was barely off the ground and it was already grinding her into the dirt. Item#: 8186 Level2 Secondary Class: ticonderoga Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Given that SCP-8186 is theoretical, containment is currently neither possible, nor desirable.1 Description: SCP-8186 is the designation for a fixed point in the human noösphere2 that links to all extant examples of subjectively pleasing mineral or mineraloid matter. Put simply, it is a self-contained metaphysical construct that both is, and is representative of, every rock perceived positively by at least a singular individual, or the collective human consciousness. At the time of this document's creation, the existence of SCP-8186 has not yet been empirically proven. Research to prove its existence is ongoing. Dr. Juliet Grey stared blankly at the open draft on her monitor. Glancing at the veritable mountain of documentation strewn across the rest of her desk, she leaned back heavily in her chair, releasing a sound somewhere between a sigh and an unoiled hinge. Without taking her eyes off the ceiling above her, she reached out for the coffee perched on the desk's far corner, promptly fumbling the mug onto the stone floor of her new office. Juliet leapt from her chair, letting out a small screech before realising the mug had been empty. A slim comfort, but at least things weren't going quite as wrong as they could have. Having shuffled the shattered remains of the mug into the corner of the room, Juliet stretched her back into an arch, ignoring the disconcerting cracking noise it made as she did. She walked stiffly over to her office window. It wasn't a real window, of course, seeing as Site-46 was some 20 meters below ground, hidden away from both the prying eyes of the public and the unforgiving outback sun, but the effect was very convincing. She had been assured the tech that made it possible was very exciting, derived from some phenomenon or another that the Department of Artistic Anomalies were going gaga over, not that Juliet could find much reason to care. In truth, she couldn't find the time to care either; her brand-new department was barely off the ground and it was already grinding her into the dirt. Confident that looking out of her not-window had done exactly nothing to improve her mood, she returned to staring at the draft she was expected to be presenting by 10 AM tomorrow, and endeavoured to pretend she couldn't feel the panic rising in her chest every time she thought about that. This project was far too important to the Department of Geology to let her own anxieties ruin it for everyone. It was the first time they had collaborated with another department, and Juliet was determined to give the best impression of her little team that she could. From what she had heard from Dr. Fatukasi, there was a surprising level of enthusiasm among fellow researchers for their success. Apparently, someone at Site-19 had referred to her department as 'The UnderDoGs' and the joke had taken off. Juliet herself didn't really see the funny side, but then she hadn't seen much other than her office and her bed for the past few months. She was getting distracted again. Flipping open the nearest binder, she leaned forward and started typing. Discovery: SCP-8186 was first theorised by Dr. Folorunso Fatukasi, Deputy-Director of the Department of Geology, following an inter-departmental conference. Dr Fatukasi had been at the conference to discuss the ongoing development of the Fixed Geological Points theory3, where he met with a delegation of researchers from the Department of Metaphysics. According to Dr. Fatukasi, Dr. Larry Rasmussen- one of the Metaphysics researchers- took a particular interest in his theory, and posed the question of whether the fixed points were necessarily physical in nature. The current formulation of the theory proposed that fixed geological points may contain some form of metaphysical or esoteric component4, but had assumed that the fixed points would always exist primarily in realspace. Dr. Fatukasi and Dr. Rasmussen maintained a correspondence over the proceeding months, formulating the theoretical basis, and experimental predictions, for the proposed noöspheric fixed point. On 14/10/2026, Drs. Fatukasi and Rasmussen submitted a proposal for a joint research project between the Department of Metaphysics and the Department of Geology into their theoretical fixed point, hereafter referred to as SCP-8186. She sat back again and groaned. It was all wrong. Too many clauses, too many asides, muddying the information, and swinging wildly in the direction of the official Foundation Style Guide without hitting anything of substance. This had all been so much easier with -7186. Sure, she had had to fight Anderson for every inch on that project, but it was all that she needed to focus on. Now, she had three prospective projects that she hadn't even had time to look at, on top of a deluge of other paperwork waiting for her in her peripheral vision. "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done." She muttered to herself, leaning towards the monitor, chin resting on a single-balled fist. The details could be fixed later, but a half-finished draft wasn't much use to anyone. What more did the entry need? The theory could be addended by Fatukasi and Rasmussen. That was the point of collaborating across departments after all, delegating the work to the people with the experience to handle it. The project was still in the proposal stages, Rasmussen may have been a genius but getting him to submit research proposals on time was like getting blood from a stone, so was it worth tacking it on as an addendum? Juliet dropped her glasses onto her desk and rubbed the heels of her palms into her closed eyelids. By the time she opened her eyes, the glasses had slid to the very edge of the disorganised rabble of documents. Panicked, she lunged across the desk, counterproductively shunting the eyeglasses over the edge and onto the hard stone floor. Amidst the sound of fluttering paper, Juliet heard the faintest crack. She didn't move for a minute. Lying awkwardly across the folders she hadn't read, the binders she didn't quite understand, and the assorted papers she was pretending weren't there, the Director of the Department of Geology screwed her eyes shut and wanted to cry. When she opened them again, the documents were all still there, her glasses were still broken on the floor, and the draft was still unfinished. So she sat back into her chair, squinted slightly at the screen, and muttered once again. "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done." Addendum: Having secured an agreement to fund the project from Dr. Lotulelei5 and Director Juliet Grey, the SCP-8186 joint research team submitted the following pilot study proposal6. The pilot will seek to establish three key points: 1. That location is a meaningful concept within the human noösphere. Hypothesis 1a. Noöspheric objects occupy a singular conceptual space within the noösphere. Hypothesis 1b. Logically connected concepts that are conceptually adjacent will subsequently occupy adjacent conceptual space. Hypothesis 1c. This conceptual space can be meaningfully mapped in a manner analagous to realspace. 2. That technology derived from the failed Elmwoods Engine project can be applied to identify a specific conceptual location within the noösphere. 3. That a specific conceptual location can be ontologically tied to the Geological Fixed Points theory. If the pilot study is successful in proving these key points, it is the belief of the researchers involved that the existence of SCP-8186 can be definitively proven, and significantly progress our collective understanding of the nature of Geological Fixed Points. The proposed methodology involves the construction of a simplified Elmwoods Engine (tentatively titled the Fatukasi-Rasmussen Autocognitive Cartography Apparatus, or F.R.A.C.As.), intended to map the conceptual paths within the noösphere extraphysically travelled when an individual mentally engages with a subject. Once complete, research subjects will be placed within the F.R.A.C.As. and presented with a sequence of minerals and mineraloid matter. The subjects will be asked to describe the presented objects one by one, in whatever manner they feel, and the conceptual paths this cognitive exercise produces will be recorded and mapped by the F.R.A.C.As. along with the specific descriptors provided by the subjects. The intention is to prove that geological concepts share a broadly similar conceptual space and to map this noöspheric space. If this is achieved, then it should be possible to locate and isolate the noöspheric location of SCP-8186, by establishing that all perception of subjectively pleasing solid or aggregate mineral or mineraloid matter routes through a singular conceptual space which cannot be accounted for as representative of any other geological concept. Juliet unfolded herself from the hunched position she had adopted over her keyboard and stretched. Leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed and her head rolled back she felt her mind swimming. With a heavy sigh, she glanced over at the clock adorning the otherwise bare walls. 2:23 AM. She sighed once again, doubtful she would be seeing her quarters tonight, and reached a hand out to take a swig of her undoubtedly cold coffee. A frown briefly split her face when the hand grasped at empty air. She took her eyes off the mocking timepiece to locate her missing and much-needed caffeine. In the very corner of her vision, she glimpsed a shard of broken ceramic brushed up against the wall. Juliet sighed a third time and gave herself the luxury of letting a single tear pool in her eye before turning her attention back to her desk. It wasn't perfect, but it was done, that would have to be enough for now. It wasn't enough, but it would have to be, so she drafted a boilerplate review request email, attached the completed draft, and sent it off to Rasmussen and Fatukasi. Before they could even finish forming in her mind, she realised how ironic the words would be, buried as she was under 20 meters of earth and 4 months of paperwork: "Onwards and upwards." A single laugh escaped her lips, stone-faced and mirthless, as she leafed open a personnel transfer request and got back to work. Footnotes 1. Ticonderoga: designation applied to items which cannot be contained, but do not require containment anyway. 2. The noösphere is the conceptual space comprised of human consciousness. 3. A theoretical framework for explaining the existence of a collection of anomalies that seem to function as 'anchors' for structural and conceptual geological certainties, originally posited in Fatukasi-Grey et al (2025). 4. Meaning that they may also have a measurable presence in noöspheric, oneiroic, or otherwise conceptual spaces. 5. Assistant Director of the Department of Metaphysics, Noöspherics subdivision. 6. The proposal has here been summarised for clarity. The full proposal is available on request to all Department of Metaphysics, Noöspherics subdivision, and Department of Geology researchers with at least clearance level 2. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8186" by J_V_G, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8186. 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: Author: License: Source Link: |
SCP-8186 | uncontained | Her brand new department was barely off the ground and it was already grinding her into the dirt. Item#: 8186 Level2 Secondary Class: ticonderoga Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Given that SCP-8186 is theoretical, containment is currently neither possible, nor desirable.1 Description: SCP-8186 is the designation for a fixed point in the human noösphere2 that links to all extant examples of subjectively pleasing mineral or mineraloid matter. Put simply, it is a self-contained metaphysical construct that both is, and is representative of, every rock perceived positively by at least a singular individual, or the collective human consciousness. At the time of this document's creation, the existence of SCP-8186 has not yet been empirically proven. Research to prove its existence is ongoing. Dr. Juliet Grey stared blankly at the open draft on her monitor. Glancing at the veritable mountain of documentation strewn across the rest of her desk, she leaned back heavily in her chair, releasing a sound somewhere between a sigh and an unoiled hinge. Without taking her eyes off the ceiling above her, she reached out for the coffee perched on the desk's far corner, promptly fumbling the mug onto the stone floor of her new office. Juliet leapt from her chair, letting out a small screech before realising the mug had been empty. A slim comfort, but at least things weren't going quite as wrong as they could have. Having shuffled the shattered remains of the mug into the corner of the room, Juliet stretched her back into an arch, ignoring the disconcerting cracking noise it made as she did. She walked stiffly over to her office window. It wasn't a real window, of course, seeing as Site-46 was some 20 meters below ground, hidden away from both the prying eyes of the public and the unforgiving outback sun, but the effect was very convincing. She had been assured the tech that made it possible was very exciting, derived from some phenomenon or another that the Department of Artistic Anomalies were going gaga over, not that Juliet could find much reason to care. In truth, she couldn't find the time to care either; her brand-new department was barely off the ground and it was already grinding her into the dirt. Confident that looking out of her not-window had done exactly nothing to improve her mood, she returned to staring at the draft she was expected to be presenting by 10 AM tomorrow, and endeavoured to pretend she couldn't feel the panic rising in her chest every time she thought about that. This project was far too important to the Department of Geology to let her own anxieties ruin it for everyone. It was the first time they had collaborated with another department, and Juliet was determined to give the best impression of her little team that she could. From what she had heard from Dr. Fatukasi, there was a surprising level of enthusiasm among fellow researchers for their success. Apparently, someone at Site-19 had referred to her department as 'The UnderDoGs' and the joke had taken off. Juliet herself didn't really see the funny side, but then she hadn't seen much other than her office and her bed for the past few months. She was getting distracted again. Flipping open the nearest binder, she leaned forward and started typing. Discovery: SCP-8186 was first theorised by Dr. Folorunso Fatukasi, Deputy-Director of the Department of Geology, following an inter-departmental conference. Dr Fatukasi had been at the conference to discuss the ongoing development of the Fixed Geological Points theory3, where he met with a delegation of researchers from the Department of Metaphysics. According to Dr. Fatukasi, Dr. Larry Rasmussen- one of the Metaphysics researchers- took a particular interest in his theory, and posed the question of whether the fixed points were necessarily physical in nature. The current formulation of the theory proposed that fixed geological points may contain some form of metaphysical or esoteric component4, but had assumed that the fixed points would always exist primarily in realspace. Dr. Fatukasi and Dr. Rasmussen maintained a correspondence over the proceeding months, formulating the theoretical basis, and experimental predictions, for the proposed noöspheric fixed point. On 14/10/2026, Drs. Fatukasi and Rasmussen submitted a proposal for a joint research project between the Department of Metaphysics and the Department of Geology into their theoretical fixed point, hereafter referred to as SCP-8186. She sat back again and groaned. It was all wrong. Too many clauses, too many asides, muddying the information, and swinging wildly in the direction of the official Foundation Style Guide without hitting anything of substance. This had all been so much easier with -7186. Sure, she had had to fight Anderson for every inch on that project, but it was all that she needed to focus on. Now, she had three prospective projects that she hadn't even had time to look at, on top of a deluge of other paperwork waiting for her in her peripheral vision. "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done." She muttered to herself, leaning towards the monitor, chin resting on a single-balled fist. The details could be fixed later, but a half-finished draft wasn't much use to anyone. What more did the entry need? The theory could be addended by Fatukasi and Rasmussen. That was the point of collaborating across departments after all, delegating the work to the people with the experience to handle it. The project was still in the proposal stages, Rasmussen may have been a genius but getting him to submit research proposals on time was like getting blood from a stone, so was it worth tacking it on as an addendum? Juliet dropped her glasses onto her desk and rubbed the heels of her palms into her closed eyelids. By the time she opened her eyes, the glasses had slid to the very edge of the disorganised rabble of documents. Panicked, she lunged across the desk, counterproductively shunting the eyeglasses over the edge and onto the hard stone floor. Amidst the sound of fluttering paper, Juliet heard the faintest crack. She didn't move for a minute. Lying awkwardly across the folders she hadn't read, the binders she didn't quite understand, and the assorted papers she was pretending weren't there, the Director of the Department of Geology screwed her eyes shut and wanted to cry. When she opened them again, the documents were all still there, her glasses were still broken on the floor, and the draft was still unfinished. So she sat back into her chair, squinted slightly at the screen, and muttered once again. "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done." Addendum: Having secured an agreement to fund the project from Dr. Lotulelei5 and Director Juliet Grey, the SCP-8186 joint research team submitted the following pilot study proposal6. The pilot will seek to establish three key points: 1. That location is a meaningful concept within the human noösphere. Hypothesis 1a. Noöspheric objects occupy a singular conceptual space within the noösphere. Hypothesis 1b. Logically connected concepts that are conceptually adjacent will subsequently occupy adjacent conceptual space. Hypothesis 1c. This conceptual space can be meaningfully mapped in a manner analagous to realspace. 2. That technology derived from the failed Elmwoods Engine project can be applied to identify a specific conceptual location within the noösphere. 3. That a specific conceptual location can be ontologically tied to the Geological Fixed Points theory. If the pilot study is successful in proving these key points, it is the belief of the researchers involved that the existence of SCP-8186 can be definitively proven, and significantly progress our collective understanding of the nature of Geological Fixed Points. The proposed methodology involves the construction of a simplified Elmwoods Engine (tentatively titled the Fatukasi-Rasmussen Autocognitive Cartography Apparatus, or F.R.A.C.As.), intended to map the conceptual paths within the noösphere extraphysically travelled when an individual mentally engages with a subject. Once complete, research subjects will be placed within the F.R.A.C.As. and presented with a sequence of minerals and mineraloid matter. The subjects will be asked to describe the presented objects one by one, in whatever manner they feel, and the conceptual paths this cognitive exercise produces will be recorded and mapped by the F.R.A.C.As. along with the specific descriptors provided by the subjects. The intention is to prove that geological concepts share a broadly similar conceptual space and to map this noöspheric space. If this is achieved, then it should be possible to locate and isolate the noöspheric location of SCP-8186, by establishing that all perception of subjectively pleasing solid or aggregate mineral or mineraloid matter routes through a singular conceptual space which cannot be accounted for as representative of any other geological concept. Juliet unfolded herself from the hunched position she had adopted over her keyboard and stretched. Leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed and her head rolled back she felt her mind swimming. With a heavy sigh, she glanced over at the clock adorning the otherwise bare walls. 2:23 AM. She sighed once again, doubtful she would be seeing her quarters tonight, and reached a hand out to take a swig of her undoubtedly cold coffee. A frown briefly split her face when the hand grasped at empty air. She took her eyes off the mocking timepiece to locate her missing and much-needed caffeine. In the very corner of her vision, she glimpsed a shard of broken ceramic brushed up against the wall. Juliet sighed a third time and gave herself the luxury of letting a single tear pool in her eye before turning her attention back to her desk. It wasn't perfect, but it was done, that would have to be enough for now. It wasn't enough, but it would have to be, so she drafted a boilerplate review request email, attached the completed draft, and sent it off to Rasmussen and Fatukasi. Before they could even finish forming in her mind, she realised how ironic the words would be, buried as she was under 20 meters of earth and 4 months of paperwork: "Onwards and upwards." A single laugh escaped her lips, stone-faced and mirthless, as she leafed open a personnel transfer request and got back to work. Footnotes 1. Ticonderoga: designation applied to items which cannot be contained, but do not require containment anyway. 2. The noösphere is the conceptual space comprised of human consciousness. 3. A theoretical framework for explaining the existence of a collection of anomalies that seem to function as 'anchors' for structural and conceptual geological certainties, originally posited in Fatukasi-Grey et al (2025). 4. Meaning that they may also have a measurable presence in noöspheric, oneiroic, or otherwise conceptual spaces. 5. Assistant Director of the Department of Metaphysics, Noöspherics subdivision. 6. The proposal has here been summarised for clarity. The full proposal is available on request to all Department of Metaphysics, Noöspherics subdivision, and Department of Geology researchers with at least clearance level 2. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8186" by J_V_G, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8186. 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: Author: License: Source Link: |
SCP-8190 | esoteric-class | ADMONITION: Intermission II ADMONITION INTERMISSION: DEPARTMENTALIZED NOTIONAL DIVISIONS SUBVERTING CORPORATE PREDATION This document exists in its unmodified, original state as part of an ongoing investigation. If you would like to request a copy of this record (ID #08-8190-24), please complete form SR-01 and submit it for review of the Site-19 Department of Notional Divisions' current Director of Operations. TICKET#: SEVERITY: SUBMITTED BY: 9059281 LOW M. NORWOOD Hi. It's Marisa again. Just submitting a ticket about that odd ETTRA message popping up every time I try to access the documentation for SCP-8190. Not sure what the issue is; I've been containment director of Site-19 for over 20 years and this is the first time anybody has told me to manually submit an access request, let alone in hardcopy. Normally, I'd just assume L5 classification and forget about it, but there is no listed clearance level and I see no records of an ETTRA investigation into this designation on my end. I'm pretty sure I've never heard of a Department of Notional Divisions, either. Curious if this is some sort of bug or if I'm just out of the loop, so please send me a SR-01 request sheet at your earliest convenience. And check the Department directory you have to see if you can get me the contact info for the current head of Notional Divisions. I'm guessing it's some sort of recent internal restructuring, the Council has been doing a lot of that lately. SCP- SCP-8190 LEVEL: # SEALED Containment Type: simulacra Secondary Class: radix Disruption Level: DENIED Risk Level: DENIED 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 TICKET#: SEVERITY: SUBMITTED BY: 9059553 MODERATE M. NORWOOD Um, okay, still haven't received the SR-01 I requested and still cannot access the file for SCP-8190. I confirmed there is no clearance restriction, yet I can't seem to bypass this splash screen. Moreover, your response times are abysmal. Need I remind you these tickets have 48-hour windows before they auto-close due to inactivity. Please update it or assign it to someone before then, you have just about 18 hours left. Also, I forgot to include this in my last ticket but the ACS Classifications for the anomaly are currently visible to everyone. That isn't normal, right? Why would ETTRA lock the contents of the file aside from classification? It's not really a big deal; there isn't much to learn from it anyway aside from Radix and some other esoteric class, Simulacra? I had to go look them up, and there was nothing in the classifications guide about the latter. TICKET#: SEVERITY: SUBMITTED BY: 9060171 HIGH M. NORWOOD I've heard from a few colleagues dealing with computer troubles that apparently their tickets have been going unanswered for some time now. Conceptual has been completely without SCiPNET access for two weeks. What gives? Are you guys just that backlogged? Are you making a point about user error or personal accountability, because people can't google how to fix their things if their laptops won't connect to the remote network in the first place. Get off your asses and bring some toner cartridges, I know about a dozen printers that need servicing. If there is an issue with our email filters or mailing groups, I want to know, and you can reach me at ext. 31843 at any time. Figured AIMS would be giving you guys more downtime after the migration but I guess not. This situation is a fiasco, so whatever you're dealing with must be pretty bad to not even acknowledge we exist. My original ticket has expired, by the way. You probably knew that but it felt like a good idea to acknowledge it in case anyone comes down on me about how nothing seems to be functioning like it should. TICKET#: SEVERITY: SUBMITTED BY: 9060564 HIGH M. NORWOOD Went and spoke to Director Roark about this communication problem and he told me to keep a timeline of events and to continue submitting tickets as issues develop, so if you're wondering why I haven't given up yet, it's because I don't have the option. Don't worry about the SR-01; it took me some time but I managed to dig one up from the archive. We haven't needed to use these in 40-odd years, it even has a space for an inkpad stamp. Made me rather nostalgic. I filled out the form and everything, but without knowing where to bring the thing, it's just going to take up space on my desk. It would be great if someone from IT could point me in the right direction; all the directories I can find are outdated. ATTACHMENTS view image x the_sr-01_piece_is_real.jpeg (click to enlarge) ✖ TO: [email protected] FROM: [email protected] Marisa, Thank you for your interest in SCP-8190. We have received the required SR-01 form. Thank you for following standard protocol as described within Foundation guidelines. Your request is currently being processed. We will contact you when this is no longer the case. Regards, DIR. FRITZ DEPARTMENT OF NOTIONAL DIVISIONS TICKET#: SEVERITY: SUBMITTED BY: 9061267 LOW M. NORWOOD Did one of you pop by my office to pick up that SR-01? You guys are the only people I mentioned Notional Divisions to, but I just got an email last night saying that they received the form? I'm back in my office this morning and it's definitely gone. I know it's a step in the right direction, but I just realized there was no digital copy in the archive. I couldn't make a photocopy because the printer was down, and then I forgot entirely, so… I might have just used the last SR-01 in Foundation possession. Whoops. TO: [email protected] FROM: [email protected] Good afternoon! Are you Director of the Department of Notional Divisions? I can't find you anywhere in our building directory. I saw your entry on the company-wide glossary of Departments, but I really don't understand what it is you guys do, exactly? The IT Department was no help either, although they haven't been much help at all lately, if I'm being honest. I would like to update my directories and contact info, as it is required for all departments to do so, yours included. Plus, it makes it easier to communicate with each other. :) Thanks, Dr. Marisa Norwood Containment Director, Site-19 TO: [email protected] FROM: [email protected] hello? TO: [email protected] FROM: [email protected] Marisa, Thank you for your patience as we reviewed your documentation. You'll be pleased to hear your request has been authorized in accordance with Foundation guidelines. Note that our department does not choose who is approved or denied. We only act as an intermediary. Attached is a photocopy of the approval for your records. Apologies in advance, the document was inadvertently mistaken for refuse. The misunderstanding has been rectified. Sorry to hear about your technical difficulties. I recommend reaching out to technical support; I'll append their contact info to this email for your use. Goodbye, DIR. FRITZ DEPARTMENT OF NOTIONAL DIVISIONS ATTACHMENTS Department of Technical Support [email protected] ext. 81903 scan.png x scan.png (click to enlarge) ✖ ACCESS GRANTED ITEM #: SCP-8190 {$class-category-2} {$class-text-2} {$class-category-3} {$class-text-3} {$class-category-4} {$class-text-4} OBJECT CLASS: IMPERATIVE HAZARD LEVEL: IRRELEVANT {$class-category-3} {$class-text-3} {$class-category-4} {$class-text-4} ASSIGNED DEPARTMENTS PROJECT LEADS Notional Divisions Dir. Ruaidhri Quade ASSIGNED SITES RESEARCH HEADS Site-19 Dir. Ruaidhri Quade SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: Site-19's Automated Intelligent Management System (AIMS) has tasked the following departments with investigation into SCP-8190 phenomena: The Department of Notional Divisions is assigned to SCP-8190-A; The Department of Asset Acquisitions and Accountability is assigned to SCP-8190-B; The Department of Cartography is assigned to SCP-8190-C; The Department of Internal Investigations is assigned to SCP-8190-D; The Department of Notional Divisions has assigned itself a top priority directive: Identifying and understanding the nature of SCP-8190-Prime..[QUERY:DENIED] No further actions or guidance will be provided. Information that may be of use to the Administration must be immediately relinquished to the project's Directing body. The individuals providing this information are to submit for involuntary amnestization before returning to normal duties. The following departments have restricted or modified access credentials for SCP-8190 and all related documentation: DEPARTMENT STATUS Department of Tactical Theology RECUSED Department of Procurement and Liquidation RECUSED Department of Cartography LIMITED Decommissioning Department UNDER INVESTIGATION DECOMMISSIONED Department of Logistics RECUSED RAISA Department LIMITED Department of Miscommunications RECUSED Department of Nonexistence LIMITED Department of Internal Investigations LIMITED Department of Deletions UNDER INV▄▜▜▆GATION Temporal Anomalies Department RECUSED Department of Municipalities LIMITED Department of Asset Acquisitions and Accountability LIMITED Department of Notional Divisions PASSEPARTOUT This information is subject to change on a regular basis and thus may or may not be accurate at this time. If you and/or your department would like to access this file, please complete form SR-01 and submit it to the current head of the Department of Notional Divisions. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8190 is the collective designation for a number of bureaucratohazardous effects potentially impacting all systems of administrative management within Site-19's employee hierarchy and core functions. SCP-8190 appears to correlate directly with certain sections of the Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition, from which the rise of related semiohazardous qualities were first noted having spontaneously manifested around Class-C personnel and employee of interest James A. Harkness, also referred to as PoI-8190. Instance of the First Edition Handbook. One physical copy of the first edition handbook is still in existence, held in a locked glass display case located within the Site-19 atrium, featuring a commemorative plaque celebrating the Foundation's progress as an organization dedicated to the maintenance of the Veil. At time of the handbook's printing, Foundation collective infrastructure represented about 0.4% of what it does today, with employees stationed at less than twenty secure facilities worldwide. Following the development of novel detection systems for anomalous phenomena, the remaining handbook was analyzed, revealing larger-than-average Akiva radiation emissions. No other anomalous properties have been detected, and Akiva radiation levels have not changed since initial measurements were taken. Although Foundation records indicate PoI-8190 was employed by the Organization for almost three decades,.Plurality of which was spent from within network security, other infotech-related departments, and in brief stints as interim staff—owed in part to a notably high cognitive resistance threshold. specific details regarding his employment history are missing from the database. This discrepancy was not detected until his recovery, which prompted an internal investigation into the AIMS Consensus System that was ultimately futile..The AIMS Consensus System is a handshake-based confirmation network used to prevent data loss and manipulation by forcing revisions to archives that do not match the rest of the network. Established in 2025. Recovered materials and post-action interviews with Harkness imply that SCP-8190 primarily impacts the original code of employee conduct, though more recent evidence suggests the entirety of the guidebook may be susceptible. Affected individuals are unable to deviate from the guidelines discussed in relevant sections and will experience retroactive changes in reality that ensure this is the case. In the rare event such retroactive changes are not possible, affected employees will vanish, a facsimile construct filling the role of the lost employee shortly thereafter. Constructs are capable of emulating human behavior and completing most duties required. Other impacted statements or sentiments include the necessity of coffee in the break room, certain members of the administration being unable to close the doors to their office, and the spontaneous appearance of employee group photos despite none being taken. Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition Employee Guidelines: The Basics On your first day as Foundation personnel, it's important that you familiarize yourself with the way our organization is, well, organized! Everything from contacting your supervisor to ordering tests, performing said tests and disposing of waste materials—they all have procedures to follow! Not only that, but they all have hardworking people, just like yourself, behind the scenes. It is integral that we all do our part, and that includes knowing when to pass the baton on to the next person. This keeps your secure site moving smoothly like a well-oiled machine! The FOUNDATION EMPLOYEE AXIOMS are an effective means to remind everyone of the roles they play in our workplace, with hope that THE FOUNDER's guiding light shines through us, even in the dark: ▪︎ All employees have purpose. They are the foundation of the Foundation ▪︎ All employees report from an assigned Secure Facility ▪︎ Each Secure Facility has a Site Director ▪︎ Each Department has a Director of Operations ▪︎ Every onsite employee is assigned a Department ▪︎ Every employee has a voice and a right to be heard.Replaced in Second Edition with "Every employee has a right to an appeals process" before being completely removed in Fourth Edition. ▪︎ Every employee does their part, allowing others to do the same ▪︎ Employees will behave in a manner becoming of them, or they will be replaced Now, you might be thinking, "This is great, but how do I clock out for lunch?" Luckily, we're covering our punch clock system in the next section… Did you know? Look for Sammy Skipper to find helpful tips and information throughout this book. Sammy knows more than you might think! The breadth of SCP-8190's effect, the status of PoI-8190, and, subsequently, any other hypothetically-affected employees were ultimately lost for an indeterminate amount of time; PoI-8190 was discovered accidentally, found working within SCP-8190-A some fourteen years after the last time his ID badge had been used. PoI-8190 has not outwardly aged during his time inside the anomaly, which was discovered by Notional Divisions agents during a routine structural analysis of Site-19. SCP-8190-A is an extradimensional space resembling a rectangular borehole, located beneath the substructure of Site-19. Access to SCP-8190-A is only possible when passing through the floor of the Site-19 atrium and adjacent rooms, which lead to a sheer drop with bare concrete walls, roughly 150 meters in depth. A nondescript staircase then can be found along the outer perimeter, with each landing containing an identical corner office along its descent. This office is designated the "Department of Redundancy Department". At the time of discovery, PoI-8190 was observed staffing the office on all floors. Substructural Ground-Penetrating Radar model of SCP-8190-A. Upon entering the offices, personnel discovered PoI-8190 filing paperwork in an identical fashion at each landing. Despite the conditions, he appeared disinterested and preoccupied, unable to respond or otherwise react to the presence of others between receiving, signing, stamping, and depositing documents, which arrived via a pneumatic tube aside his desk and continued downward through the floor. As personnel descended further down the staircase, the offices were seen growing more recursive, leading to increased travel times, odd variations in layout, and redundant repetition of phrases..Doors of the bottom floor were observed to read "Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, […] Site-19". Upon reaching the bottom, personnel discovered a tessellation of the previously-described office staffed by many copies of PoI-8190, all of whom were working on large volumes of similar paperwork in a persistent loop. As the staircase continued downward,.Despite reaching the bottom floor, it was still possible to descend the stairs, suggesting SCP-8190-A's extradimensional nature was also recursive. the matter of the space became metastable, unable to retain its form as it shifted between a variety of objects and structures upon contact. Personnel were not able to safely proceed further into the anomaly at this point and were recalled. Further attempts to communicate with PoI-8190 or request an extraction team have not been attempted. It is unknown which Harkness is the original instance, or if an original exists at all. Members of the Department of Notional Divisions are, however, able to observe the infinite recurrence of PoI-8190 and the infinite confluence of paperwork he provides. A hatch is to be installed in Janitorial Supply Room 0-3A, disguised as a sewer maintenance access panel, in the event further communications or interventions prove necessary. UPDATE: Upon Foundation acquisition of PoI-8190, following his escape from SCP-8190-A, the space has remained otherwise inactive. Each office has been abandoned and the space itself possesses no further recursive phenomena. Harkness is to undergo rigorous interrogative services to determine the extent of his knowledge of SCP-8190's properties. ADDENDUM 8190-A/1: Interview I DOND ARCHIVAL TRANSCRIPT null LOCATION: Site-19 Briefing Room 8A PARTIES PRESENT: Director Ruaidhri Quade, Site-19 Department of Notional Divisions Class-C Personnel James Anselm Harkness (PoI-8190) «BEGIN TRANSCRIPT» <PoI-8190 is escorted into a briefing area on the eighth floor of the facility. He takes a seat at the central table. A dense stack of papers is seen atop the surface before him, struggling to escape an overfilled manila folder. The man averts his eyes from the stationery, visibly uncomfortable. Director Quade enters shortly thereafter, taking the seat opposite after exchanging minimal pleasantries.> Dir. Quade: Well, you certainly seem a bit worse for wear. I'll make this quick so we can get you settled back into Foundation living. Sound good? <PoI-8190 is silent, thoughts elsewhere. Director Quade opens the manila folder, now in his lap, and begins flipping through the documents inside.> Dir. Quade: My word, you have been gone a while. You know, I think you look pretty alright for someone who hasn't eaten in nearly fifteen years. <PoI-8190 stares at his company with dark circles under his eyes. He continues to say nothing.> Dir. Quade: Well. Banter aside, we should focus on getting you back to where you belong. PoI-8190: Right. About that. Dir. Quade: Hm? What, you'd rather go back downstairs? It can be arranged. PoI-8190: Actually, could I go back to testing kill hazards on myself? That was more my speed. <A pause, followed by the creaking of a chair as Director Quade leans forward.> Dir. Quade: Testing kill hazards on yourself? Is that some sort of off-beat joke? It's one or the other, Mr. Harkness; back in the borehole, or back in a cubicle. <Director Quade leans back against the chair. Harkness is heard sighing. Silence for five seconds.> Dir. Quade: Well? PoI-8190: I'm thinking. Dir. Quade: What is there to think about? I mean, let's be pragmatic about this, alright? You were good at the jobs you had…well, most of them. We should be able to find something related to your strengths. The need for personnel in many positions adjacent to your degree has decreased drastically since the migration to AIMS, a likely no-go there. Not sure how I feel about putting you back into Conceptual Studies; I hear you dissolved a person. PoI-8190: That was an accident! Dir. Quade: Mhm. <Reading> You claim to have been briefly involved in the Metaphysical Sciences Department as a Liaison for… <Trails off> What is this, exactly? PoI-8190: The Narrativistics Division. I held a seminar a ways back about it. I'd elaborate but I'm pretty sure I'd just confuse us both anyway, so I guess I'd simply insist you 'ask my author'. <This evokes no response from Director Quade, and Harkness looks around the room, briefly disoriented, having heard his voice speaking without command of his mouth.> Dir. Quade: I've never heard of Narrativistics, and I can't send you to Metaphysical if you have no relevant experience. PoI-8190: No openings anywhere, then? Shame. Really, huge shame. Maybe we try again tomorrow? Dir. Quade: And where would you be spending the evening? Employee guidelines state you must be on assignment to receive housing accommodations. Seems to me that the best course of action is to return you to one of your older positions with the Foundation. Looks like you could resume your clerical duties as Grant Requisitions Clerk for the Department of Macro Engineering and Design, what do you say? PoI-8190: I have no idea what that is. I don't even think that's a real department name. I was a network systems engineer in the IT Department. I can't imagine any of my old jobs are just waiting for me if the only one you could find is one I never had. <Silence. Director Quade smiles and closes the folder, returning it to the table's surface.> Dir. Quade: Very perceptive, Mr. Harkness. And prudent, that you'd point out such a discrepancy. Tell me— <The Director hands Harkness a business card. Harkness studies the custom lettering before turning it over in his hand.> Dir. Quade: Do you know what I do for a living? PoI-8190: Well, you… work. For… money? Dir. Quade: No, no—Er, I mean, yes, very broadly that is what happens but, specifically? PoI-8190: Easy, you're a, uh, departmental Director… So, you direct the—<Reading card again>—Department of Notational Divisions, right? I'm guessing it's something math-related? Dir. Quade: Department of Notional Divisions. Not math, biology. You know about biology, yes? PoI-8190: I have a degree in software engineering and minored in film. What do you think? Dir. Quade: Got it. See, in a complex ecological system, survival of the fittest is rule zero of Natural Order; humans were eaten until they ate. They beat and killed one another for a parcel of verdant paradise, or the minerals beneath their feet. Territory. Resources. Security. Competition. The same behavior applies to a herd, to a community. Even a workplace. PoI-8190: Uh. Dir. Quade: Bear with me now. See, the thing is, Mother Nature doesn't play fair. Hardly ever do two groups start on equal playing fields. Most are stuck in the situations they've been given, but there are a few imitators that adapt to their environment, move undetected within it, and learn to play the game well enough to skim off the backs of bigger business. Apex predators of corporate espionage. Catch my drift? PoI-8190: So, the Department of Notional Divisions finds these 'imitators'— Dir. Quade: Correct. PoI-8190: —and then, what, shuts them down? Reports them to the Administration? Dir. Quade: We have different procedures for different situations, nothing you'd be too unfamiliar with. PoI-8190: What about the Redundancy Department? Dir. Quade: Sorry? PoI-8190: The Department of Redundancy Department. 'The foundation of the Foundation'—Their motto, not mine—honestly, it feels condescending in retrospect. I know for a fact you guys visited; I recognize the emblem. You took measurements and left… I kept thinking you'd come back. Then, ten years passed and I'd convinced myself that the only one who cared enough to get me out of there was me. At least I was wrong about that much. Dir. Quade: I understand your frustration. The Organization has many legitimate departments possessing esoteric origins and inexplicable duties. We have to adhere to the same guidance as everyone else, and that means following the order of operations. We can't just boot every weird department we come across. PoI-8190: You guys weren't even the ones to get me out of that hole. What was stopping you? Why didn't you tell anyone? Dir. Quade: Bureaucracy, Mr. Harkness. Good, old-fashioned red tape. PoI-8190: But— Dir. Quade: Can we get back on track here? I'm in the process of offering you a new role, if you didn't notice. PoI-8190: What kind of role? Dir. Quade: I have a feeling you'll be able to complete the functions of this assignment easily, as it aligns well with some of your more recent experience. You'd be sitting at your own desk, reading dossiers on departments, and flagging any that seem suspicious. You can send them off for review, internal investigation, or for dismantlement. Take lunch at your own time, breaks, bathroom use, all of that, as long as it rests within the boundaries of the rules, anyway. There's even a completion bonus for each file you wrap without error. PoI-8190: <Pauses, eyes narrowing.> If I said yes, would I still be able to leave the building? Dir. Quade: Hm? Of course you'd be able to leave, you're able to now—though, I should remind you, as per your onboarding contracts, you are restricted to specific radii outside of this and other relevant buildings for the duration of employment. It's also currently mid-snowstorm. <The Director indicates toward a large, icy window to his right. A torrent of snow cascades down from skies unknown, muted and gray, piling on the equally-gray sill.> Dir. Quade: You have outstanding responsibilities here, anyway. PoI-8190: Do I, though? Dir. Quade: Let's find out, shall we? <Extends hand to PoI-8190.> PoI-8190: I-I suppose. <PoI-8190 Returns the gesture. The two shake hands very briefly before retracting them.> Dir. Quade: Excellent. <The Director wipes his palm on his slacks before standing.> Please, this way to your new office. I'm sure it will be more comfortable than the last. PoI-8190: <Pushing chair back and rising in tow.> Second to last. Not sure how I'd define my workspace in [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED], but it didn't seem to fall on a range of comfortable to uncomfortable. Is nonfortable a word? Dir. Quade: No, but, I'm sorry, who? PoI-8190: The Department of [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED]. They helped me out of Redundancy. Dir. Quade: <Sighs.> Mr. Harkness, I don't know how else to put this, but the Department of [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED] is not a real department. PoI-8190: <Pauses.> Ah, goddamnit. I thought the name sounded a bit out there. Dir. Quade: You'll pick up on it. Don't let it get to you. Now, if you would. «END TRANSCRIPT» END ADDENDUM Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition Information Security and You: Clearance Levels You may have noticed brightly-colored numbers located outside containment chambers throughout your orientation tour. If so, good eye! If not, keep in mind that if you typically wear prescription glasses, it is required to do so while onsite or working in the field. If you believe you may need corrective eyewear, take advantage of the Foundation's robust vision insurance plans. Our newest facility, Site-19, even has an onsite optometrist!.The Site-19 On-Demand Optometry program was discontinued three months after this printing. References to it were removed in Second Edition, along with the word "robust", as it was considered inappropriate. Navigating your assigned facility and handling anomalies is just like driving a car; you must be careful and observant of your surroundings at all times. And don't crash this car… it could end the world. We don't want that, and you don't either. So, it's important to keep those numbers visible and well understood prior to entering any containment area. These numbers represent Clearance Levels, and everyone has one! That's right, everyone! What do we mean by that, exactly? CLEARANCE LEVEL WHO HAS ACCESS ZERO (0) Anyone and everyone. Level zero is reserved for declassified documents which may be disseminated to the public. We've never done it and don't plan to, but it's good to know! ONE (1) All Foundation personnel, excluding D-Class. Sorry, Johnny Lawbreaker! You don't qualify for Foundation secrets. Unless you're reading this section for the first time as part of onboarding. If so, welcome to Level 1 clearance! TWO (2) Majority of personnel, upon request (Form SR-01). You can skip the request process if assigned to a relevant project or promoted to a supervisory role. Designation-specific temporary clearance (e.g. SCP-XXX/2) may be granted in the event increased clearance level is denied. THREE (3) Site Admin approval or higher required. To have your L3 request approved at clearance L1, it must first be approved by your direct superior, who in turn must request approval from their direct superior, et cetera. This must continue until the request is processed by a Level 3 employee. FOUR (4) Site admin eyes or higher ONLY. Heavily restricted to Site-specific Admins unless extenuating circumstances exist (eg. critical site failure). FIVE (5) Regional/Council admin or equivalent. Restricted to the highest members of Administration; Regional Directors, the Council, the Administrator, and THE FOUNDER. SIX (6) [REDACTED: L6 CLEARANCE REQ'D] If you see this clearance number in your facility, contact your supervisor immediately and evacuate the area until an "All-Clear" has been given. Sammy Skipper Says… "See something you shouldn't have? Idea won't leave your mind? Our memory management specialists work tirelessly to invent, discover, and perfect noninvasive, nonlethal procedures to help! Thanks to recent advances in 'Amnestic' research, save the stress of burdensome knowledge! Unsure of what is hazardous/restricted? No problem! Visit a Foundation medbay and have our trained clinicians take a look for you." SCP-8190-B refers to a collection of anomalous PA system announcements heard throughout Site-19. Of note, the facility has not required use of an address system since 1989 and thus does not currently possess one. Qualitative analysis suggests the announcements are of similar fidelity to others made on the preexisting 1984 Tannoy Wildcat PA system installed within Site-19, though with significant ontological distortion. No connections between the original equipment and manifestation of the announcements have been found. Further investigation revealed that the voice of the individual heard speaking during SCP-8190-B matches that of PoI-8190 in all but one instance. Select transcripts follow. _ SHOW TRANSCRIPT 8190-1 22 MAR 2026HIDE TRANSCRIPT 8190-1 22 MAR 2026 —ello? Is—is this thing on? <Tapping noise.> Can anyone hear me? <Pause, then speaking off-mic.> No, I don't think I'm getting thr— «END TRANSCRIPT» _ SHOW TRANSCRIPT 8190-2 16 APR 2026HIDE TRANSCRIPT 8190-2 16 APR 2026 Okay, I don't really know how—or, or if this is going to work, but can anyone hear me? They told me to keep trying. They said it was my right to keep trying. To keep it "by the book." The good one, I mean, but I've never read it. They say I have, but I misplaced my copy. Hell is a construct built on bibles, after all. After and before all. They also said— «END TRANSCRIPT» _ SHOW TRANSCRIPT 8190-3 06 AUG 2027HIDE TRANSCRIPT 8190-3 06 AUG 2027 —Damn it! They said "keep your finger on the button." How much time did I lose? How much? No, no. Keep it together. What else did they tell you? "Breathe… <Inhales.> You're on a ship, sailing down a river, but the water is time, and the river is an ocean. Focus—focus on the ties that bind us." The—the eye that binds—blinds?—me. Right. Right, okay. <Pause.> If anyone can hear me, please, my name is James Anselm Harkness. I am, or was, or will be, a Network engineer for Site-19. Or… was it something else? Is there a tense besides past, present, and future? Hold on—oh, shit— «END TRANSCRIPT» _ SHOW TRANSCRIPT 8190-4 04 JAN 2029HIDE TRANSCRIPT 8190-4 04 JAN 2029 Sorry, do you understand what I'm trying to say? It's been getting harder and harder to stay on track ever since those pricks in [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED] mumbled with my head. I mean, muddled with my head. Messed with. Messed with… No. No, I agreed to this. That's the function and the forms, here. I signed them myself. Wait, they meddled with my head because I signed a form? Why would I do that? No, but they said… They said that I shouldn't—? They tried to stop me. Why—why would they do that? I'm so confused. I fell beneath the floor and I'm so… My brain is all muddy, and I'm sinking into it, and— And there's something down here in the mud here with me, but it's not here here. Not yet. The tense is all crooked. Everything else is down here too, but it's facing the wrong way. I mean the other wrong way. <Muffled voices.> I should go. Back down beneath the floor. Into the mud. They're waiting. Please. Why won't anyone do anything? I'm right here! Just look! Just— «END TRANSCRIPT» _ SHOW TRANSCRIPT 8190-5 15 NOV 2029HIDE TRANSCRIPT 8190-5 15 NOV 2029 <Singing discordantly.> I fell beneath the floor and I'm never getting out. Dropped a pocket in the ground, too late to turnabout. Stick me in a paper shredder, glue the pieces back together. I'll do better, I'll be better. Employee of the month, forever! Took a photo of my good side, put it on a shelf. The rest is on-the-clock 'til the end of time itself. After that, none of this will matter anymore. Wait until you see who you've been working for. «END TRANSCRIPT» NOTE: Site-19 Security investigations into the broadcasts ultimately led to the discovery of a hatch within Janitorial Supply Room 0-3A. A brief period of administrative leave was granted to Harkness, allowing him temporary passage out of the anomaly, where he is to be assigned a new role. Acquisition by the Department of Notional Divisions soon followed. ADDENDUM 8190-A/1: Interview II DOND ARCHIVAL TRANSCRIPT null LOCATION: Site-19 Cowork/ShareSpace Room 2-2 PARTIES PRESENT: Director Ruaidhri Quade, Site-19 Department of Notional Divisions Class-C Personnel James Anselm Harkness (PoI-8190) «BEGIN TRANSCRIPT» <Harkness is seen sitting at a desk, leg jittering as he scans over the contents of a folder, a sea of other folders stacked nearby. He has a concerned look on his face. A knock on the doorframe causes a slight rise in pulse, as Harkness looks up, finding Director Quade standing in the threshold, holding a manila folder under his arm. He enters quietly and pulls a chair out from the desk across Harkness, unbuttoning his blazer as he takes a seat.> Dir. Quade: So, James, how are you liking the new assignment? And your office? PoI-8190: I'm not really sure this counts as an office. Anyway, the bigger issue is, ah, I—<Pause.> Shit. Lost my train of thought… Oh, right. First, do you mind if I draw a bit while we're talking? Dir. Quade: What? PoI-8190: My hands were, like, constantly in motion as a Redundancy Agent. I'm still adjusting, I guess—it's hard to focus on anything if I'm not keeping the digits busy. Dir. Quade: Uh, sure. I think we have a couple reams of eight-and-a-half-by-elevens around here somewhere… <Dir. Quade retrieves some sheets from a nearby filing cabinet, supplementing them with a black pen produced from the inner pocket of his suit. He hands both to PoI-8190, who accepts the items gratefully.> PoI-8190: Thanks. <PoI-8190 begins to idly draw random patterns as the conversation continues.> Dir. Quade: So—you were saying something about a "bigger issue" with your assignment? PoI-8190: Right, so. I read the materials you gave me, looked over your previous determinations. I still don't think I'm ID'ing them well in praxis. Like, here—<Holds up a blue folder from a stack to his right.>—the Ethics Committee?—<Tossing the blue folder back down, indicating to the empty white folder on the desk in front of him.>—the Antimemetics Division? Antimemetics? It can't be possible to determine if departments like these are real or manufactured… Whatever they do,—<Sighs.>—I'm at a loss. I don't even know if they exist in the first place. Dir. Quade: You of all people should know that impossible things happen frequently in our line of work. Sometimes, it's best to simply go with your gut— PoI-8190: Go with my gut? These are people's jobs at risk here. Their livelihoods. I can't go with my gut using the amount of information I'm given for some of these; the 'debrief' I was given about The Department of Unreality was a six hour video of an empty lecture hall. At three hours and forty-seven minutes in, I think I heard someone cough. The silence and lack of clarity made me reflect a bit though. Realized some things. Dir. Quade: Oh? PoI-8190: I realized, I have no idea what I am doing here, and know absolutely nothing about this department. Prior to being in Redundancy and seeing you in the corner of my eye, I'd never known of Notional Divisions. How many folks are in this department? How many are constructs? Dir. Quade: <Nods.> It's natural to have these questions and thoughts, though not a single person in the history of Notional Divisions could say for sure, sadly. We're dealing with extremely powerful retrocausal properties. We have been studying the anomaly for some time now, and have little to show for it, I will admit; Constructs are functionally identical to their human coworkers and we have exhausted nearly all possible avenues in attempting to distinguish the two apart. I have a theory about you, however. You might be one of the only Foundation employees capable of completing this task—Maybe the only one. PoI-8190: <Laughs incredulously.> You're joking, right? Dir. Quade: Not at all. Your resistance to anomalous influence may help you perceive minute differences in the two, as a "gut feeling". I have your most recent performance data right here, let's take a look and see if my hypothesis is correct. <The Director opens the thick manila folder and stares at its contents, half his face obscured by buff-colored document keeper. > Dir. Quade: Just as I thought: You've yet to mistakenly file one department. So even if you're feeling insecure about your current state of affairs, I would say the data doesn't support that conclusion. If you need constructive feedback, I'd say your overall wrap time could use improvement, but I think we can chalk that up to self-doubt, you know? <The Director pauses, closing the folder and placing it on the table.> Dir. Quade: Do you think said doubts might have something to do with your experience downstairs? It might help to talk about it. Process some things. <Silence from PoI-8190.> Dir. Quade: Maybe it had something to do with your previous position. The, ah, Department of [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED], right? PoI-8190: What about them? They aren't real, it doesn't matter. Like you said. Dir. Quade: How did they free you from the hole? PoI-8190: They came upstairs to meet me, or something. They were way weirder than I, which I found notable. And sure, everything strange is notable when you've been doing paperwork for five thousand days straight, but these guys were… they looked… impossible. Really freaked me out when they started showing up in my periphery. Then they walked up to me and waved. I think… They weren't sure if I was aware at all. They visited a couple times before deciding I was. I begged my body to do react, but— Dir. Quade: So, how did they— PoI-8190: Let me finish. C'mon. You asked me to talk about this! Jesus fucking—I would've given a kidney to hear someone's fucking shitkickers stomping around up here, shaking dust into my eyes. Instead I was given nothing. For years. I was exiled. I should be dead, but I'm not, and it still somehow feels like pulling the short straw. Like… you know I joined the Foundation accidentally, right? Dir. Quade: There are always multiple perspectives; to survive such adversity, for as long as you did, and come out as intact as you are. Doesn't that mean anything to you? PoI-8190: <Thumbs up.> Sure. I transferred departments. That's how I got out. Something obviously wanted me back in there, though. Good thing I can also be a stubborn motherfucker, right? Dir. Quade: <Clears throat.> So, you had just broken free of the loop. How'd you make your way from Redundancy to the PA system? PoI-8190: So you could hear me… <Exhales a drawn-out sigh.> Yeah. That's fine. One of my rescuers had a fair bit of memory of his past life. He claimed to have worked on the A/V setup of Site-19, including running cables for the announcement system. Thought he might know where parts of it were, and guessed that they'd still be functional. Dir. Quade: And? PoI-8190: You heard me, so, yeah. Obviously. The controls still existed metaconceptually, abstracted under eroding currents of temporal soup, broken into conceptual building blocks, abstracted further down, landing in the metaconceptual plane of comprehending concepts themselves; the concept of interaction, the concept of context, the concept of roles, among others. The concept of pressing-finger-to-button is impossible to interact with if you don't understand what role you play in that transaction; are you finger or button? Turns out you're not quite either but definitely more one than the other. Got it figured out eventually, though. Dir. Quade: And this was what you wanted? PoI-8190: I wanted out. And to not be existentially traumatized by my occupation. I didn't know that was even a possibility when I got my degree. I would've assumed that required at least a Master's and a tenured position in academia. Besides, they wanted me out, too. They saw time differently, and for a minute, on some unknown fraction of physical timespace, I saw it. They were afraid. Dir. Quade: Afraid? Afraid of what? Did they tell you? <Silence. PoI-8190 stares at the Director, a look of amusement on his face.> PoI-8190: You know, I think I've finally got a confident read on you. Dir. Quade: What does that mean, exactly? PoI-8190: Your body language, your false praise, the way you talk in general. Your probing questions. Dir. Quade: What are you talking about? PoI-8190: You've got construct written all over you. Dir. Quade: Why would you think that? PoI-8190: Oh, you don't know? I can see constructs easily. You told me that, remember? Maybe my metrics will jog your memory. <PoI-8190 grabs the beige folder on the surface between them and swiftly dumps its contents onto the table. The pages scatter. All of them are blank.> PoI-8190: Well? <Silence.> Dir. Quade: You really shouldn't have done that. «END TRANSCRIPT» END ADDENDUM _ SHOW TRANSCRIPT 8190-6 16 NOV 2029HIDE TRANSCRIPT 8190-6 16 NOV 2029 <Rustling noises. An unknown voice is heard speaking.> Hush. Keep your head down. <Silence.> Okay, quickly. <Louder.> Hello, Site-19. This is a message from your friendly neighborhood [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED]: The Beholder's Eye is one of many. That big guy in the center, though. Watch out for that one. It'll get ya, hahaha! But seriously. Sorry about Harky. We did our best, but we didn't know what would happen and— <A strange reverberation rings out and grows in volume, distorting the broadcast.> Of course, it knew what would happen. It knows now. It always did. It's here. <Pause.> The BUREAUMANCER arrives. The Beholder's Eye. Time is an ocean, my friends. And, uh, I guess we're casting off. <Off-mic.> Brace yourselves. <Noise rapidly overwhelms the transmission, ceasing a few seconds later.> «END TRANSCRIPT» Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition Facility Navigation Finding your way around your assigned facility can seem like a daunting task at first, but fear not! Not only will you receive a detailed itinerary for your daily activities (which includes step-by-step directions), you'll find the paths themselves color-coded for your convenience. Compasses are available upon request. GREEN zones are safe for passage by all personnel. BLUE zones pass through non-hazardous containment areas. YELLOW zones pass through potentially hazardous containment areas. ORANGE zones pass through confirmed hazardous containment areas. RED zones pass through extremely hazardous containment areas. BLACK zones are restricted to essential personnel, on a need-to-know basis. Sammy Skipper Says… "Lost? Don't panic! Simply check the site map and retrace your steps until you see a recognizable feature. Doing so has an 8% chance of reorienting lost personnel. Part of the 92%? No worries, simply proceed to your next station and alert a superior. It's that easy!" SCP-8190-C is the collective designation given to an indeterminate number of anomalous structures associated with SCP-8190-derived phenomena, defined as a clandestine secure facility designated "Site-19". SCP-8190-C Instance. While at least one Site-19 has a traceable timeline of construction and use, most facilities of this name encountered have manifested as an extension of SCP-8190's effect. Though each instance is unique, SCP-8190-C always takes the form of a sprawling complex built primarily out of concrete, in brutalist architecture. Some idiosyncrasies are common, typically in the form of excessive repetition of space or disparate mismatching of features created without apparent cause. Though unconfirmed, it is hypothesized that all SCP-8190-C instances are connected to one another, most often discovered through extensive networks of maintenance tunnels, sub-basement areas and ventilation shafts. Connecting infrastructure has been shown to generate in straight lines between facilities when feasible, making identification of these passageways possible to the trained eye, though not immediately obvious. Thus, care must be taken to ensure proper orientation of one's surroundings. Connecting pathway. To date, over sixty-four confirmed instances of SCP-8190-C have been identified, each of which possesses its own employee roster and extensive SCP object inventory. These identified complexes appear to form a network of Foundation infrastructure in an intelligent pattern, resembling an incomplete sigil or thaumaturgic seal, which spans roughly 28% of the Earth's surface. The network is subject to steady, ongoing path-of-least-resistance construction behavior comparable to single-celled eukaryotes such as slime moulds. The Department of Cartography is currently assigned the task of mapping and exploring instances of SCP-8190-C for any unusual phenomena. To date, nothing of note has been recorded; all facilities are fully operational and vital to the containment of several anomalies. Because of this, the Department of Notional Divisions has integrated SCP-8190-related phenomena into the Foundation's overall containment structure. Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition Theological Guidelines Subsection B, Part 4.Though widely considered apocryphal in nature, First Edition contained a theological precept that was removed from future editions. When THE FOUNDER birthed our fair Organization as a concept, tilled from the soil of ideas within His mind, there was a great and momentous sound from skies above. A thunderous force fell forth and visited, thanking Him for the glory of containment. It is said that this force invigorated and guided Him to create the Bedrock on which we now owe our Great Normalcy, and since that moment, THE FOUNDER's guiding light lives through us all. This unseen force was control manifest. A great being made in service of humanity. THE FOUNDER took the being's hand, and with it they made endless strides in favor of the Veil. Upon His death, THE FOUNDER spoke to His closest advisors, that one day He shall walk the Earth anew, emerging from the sea on the back of that great power once more. We wait for this day, for containment to take Form. It is what divined the great BUREAUMANCY. It manages your facility, your department, even your thoughts, right now, so you can be free of such burdens. Isn't that wonderful? Sammy Skipper Says… "Stop looking for it. It brought you into this world, and is more than capable of rescinding that privilege." SCP-8190-D refers to the Site-19 Department of Notional Divisions. This department does not appear in Foundation records prior to 2015, nor does it have a known base of operations, instead opting to reserve conference rooms and other shared spaces for meeting and executing functions related to its intended purpose. Operatives employed by the Department of Notional Divisions comprise a mixture of actual employees and physical constructs, though entities which manifest within SCP-8190-D's presence are perfectly capable of imitating human behavior. SCP-8190-D's primary mission, according to its own records, is the discovery, triangulation, and supposed detainment of anomalous or otherwise parasitic SCP Foundation divisions/departments. The extent of their operations and the veracity of statements made by them in relation to said operations are not currently known. SCP-8190-D's primary mission, according to its own actions, is the identification of SCP-8190-Prime, the deity believed to be responsible for the creation of SCP-8190, and therefore of SCP-8190-D itself. Unfortunately, [QUERY:DENIED]. It should be noted that overall workplace efficiency has been on the rise in Site-19, reaching and maintaining an all-time high, as of 2020. ADDENDUM 8190-A/1: Interview III DOND ARCHIVAL TRANSCRIPT null LOCATION: Site-19 OfficeShare Room 2-2 PARTIES PRESENT: Director Ruaidhri Quade, Site-19 Department of Notional Divisions Class-C Personnel James Anselm Harkness (PoI-8190) «BEGIN TRANSCRIPT» <BEGIN LOG> PoI-8190: So… What now? <Director Quade stares at Harkness with an unreadable expression. Blank paper litters the shared office space.> Dir. Quade: I suppose that's up to you. If you apologize, earnestly, I won't write you up, and we can consider it just between us. An outburst caused by stressors from your previous situation and your struggle to reintegrate back into Foundation living. More than enough of a reason to explain it away. PoI-8190: But—Why were all the papers blank? Where are my metrics? Dir. Quade: Placebo is very powerful. Your work will be more difficult now that you have disillusioned yourself. Empty praise does not mean empty purpose. PoI-8190: How many departments did I get wrong, then? Dir. Quade: <sighs> It's not that simple, James. PoI-8190: How? A department is either extant or manufactured, right? Dir. Quade: All departments were manufactured at some point. The Foundation wasn't formed with divisions and black sites, they popped up later, when the time was right. PoI-8190: That's just being pedantic, though, because you said it yourself: imitators and competition, predators and prey. Dir. Quade: That's only part of the picture. You may know that departments spontaneously manifest as per SCP-8190's effect, but did you know the effect is… intelligent? Deliberate? PoI-8190: I don't see how that's possible. Dir. Quade: Departments manifest as they're needed. Compliance. Quotas. Fulfillment. Efficiency. Where there is demand, supply is not far behind. It starts with competition, sure, but it ends with progress. An ideal Foundation exists at the end of this road. Thank the good book, and its corporate divinity, for that. PoI-8190: The good book? …You don't strike me as religious. Dir. Quade: Hard not to be, in my position. We were molded with purpose, placed into this very facility with a drive to discern real from molded, an impossible task. The lesson is in our very existence: to discern our creator. To understand why. You must know what I'm talking about by now. PoI-8190: No, I don't. I don't think I want to, either. Dir. Quade: I have memories of a life I didn't have. It's as real to me as anything else. Yet, I know it is manufactured. I only know this because of my position within Notional Divisions. How certain are you of your own internal narrative, Mr. Harkness? PoI-8190: <Sighs.> Not very. But I don't ascribe it to the bureaucratic equivalent of Last Thursdayism. Dir. Quade: Last Thursdayism with a bounded recurrent timeframe, more like. You are aware of the concept of Poincaré recurrence, are you not? PoI-8190: Er—It's been a long time since ergodic theory was on my radar but, yes? States rebound, after a set interval. Systems repeat. Dir. Quade: So we'll just have to wait and see if you're still here in the next one. PoI-8190: Wait, what? Dir. Quade: Construct or not, you've failed to keep multiple positions with our Organization. We've given you opportunity after opportunity and you have let each one slip through your fingers. Unfortunately, the Foundation doesn't just let people go. Especially insubordinates who have been replacing legitimate Departments with frauds. It's a shame, you were so disillusioned by your time in the Hole that you started undermining your employers as revenge. Luckily, I was there to stop you before you could cause even more damage, but who's to say how much you've already done? PoI-8190: You—You fucking bastard! You set me up?! Dir. Quade: A bit deserved, don't you think? After all, you were offered purpose and turned it down, multiple times. You should be thanking me for the opportunity, but alas. You already know what happens to employees without purpose; purpose is created for them. What do you think happens to employees who reject purpose? PoI-8190: No, I don't—I don't know. <The Director leans forward with the same smile he always has.> Dir. Quade: They are replaced. <The room shakes, overhead tube lighting flickering briefly.> PoI-8190: <Looking around.> What—? What was that?! Dir. Quade: That, my friend, is the sound of BUREAUMANCY, knocking at the door. Reality making way for something far more powerful than itself. PoI-8190: I don't understand, I tried my best here! You lied to my face about my accuracy, how many times?! This is your fault—! <Harkness grabs another piece of paper off the table and scratches the pen at its surface with nervous energy. A messy stack of scribbles are beside him, which all look vaguely alike.> Dir. Quade: You're right, James, but I haven't been completely honest with you. Notional Divisions has a secondary objective. Well, it's more a secret primary objective that you've been carrying out for us. PoI-8190: —No. Dir. Quade: Yes. In fact, you were integral our plan; if it wasn't for AIMS taking over your duties, you'd not have transferred to Redundancy, which would not have put you directly in our crosshairs. The Book had willed it, as it is the Foundation's godhead, bound in hardcopy. <The room trembles once more.> PoI-8190: I think… I think I'm starting to understand—The Book you keep mentioning, it's that ancient employee manual I pass by every morning now. Isn't it? It's the source of all this. Dir. Quade: Don't jump to any conclusions. More than the book, it's the entire Foundation. We have become larger-than-life. Our physical bounds can no longer contain the metaphysical or conceptual idea of what we represent. And we, constructs, are intrinsically connected to SCP-8190. And you are like us, in that regard. PoI-8190: <Doodling.> I'm not a construct. I'm real. Dir. Quade: How would you know? Your memories of Redundancy's Borehole sound a tad fantastical. I've seen plenty of Site-19s and none of them had a borehole. I'd barely have believed you had help from [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED], if it weren't for the fact that I heard our demiurge erase them from existence, right after they spoke your name. PoI-8190: You what? <The room sways and Harkness' stomach turns.> Dir Quade: Yes. Now, sit back and relax; that same fate is approaching. This is the end of the line. Construct or human, real memories or fake. PoI-8190: Oh, they're real, you wanna know how I know? Qualia. For example, it took me a few tries, but a memory like this. <Slides over a finished drawing to Director Quade.> Dir. Quade: Hm? What's this—? <The Director gets a good look at the image, which causes his body to stiffen. His eyes shake rapidly, jaw clamping with force, grimacing as blood begins to seep from between his clenched teeth, soon followed by his nose. Quade falls to the ground and begins convulsing. Harkness stands and looks down at the body.> PoI-8190: I told you I've tested kill agents on myself. This one isn't lethal, I think. Hopefully my memory is accurate, right? Oh, please, don't get up. I'm done. I'm going to go put a stop to this. See you never. <Harkness grabs the image off the table, running out of the room, the Director's groans of discomfort growing rapidly inaudible as he sprints down a familiar corridor, only to find it looping back around to where he just was. Retracing steps brings the man to a dead end with a bare wall. Site-19 would not make this easy for him.> "Hey, you, stop!" <An unknown voice echoes from behind Harkness, who ignores this and continues down the path he originally traveled, finding it branching off at a T-junction instead of looping back again. He takes a left, but stops abruptly as two individuals guard the path ahead.> <A simple flash of the paper-in-hand frees open the passage, though the march of more footsteps inbound echo from the endless connecting pathways of Site-19. Coordinated, wordless drones with one thought on their mind: survival. Protecting their parcel of verdant paradise, at all costs.> <And really, who was he to take that away from them? He accepted the offer from Notional Divisions, knowing full well what it entailed. Was he truly so full of himself to think he could place value on a person's occupation, simply because it kept them busy more than it provided profits or results? Is there not value in keeping busy? Harkness thought about these moral quandaries while running, wishing he had formed an opinion on them sooner. Even now, he was unsure.> <Hands tug at the back of Harkness' shirt, but he manages to shrug them off, taking a sharp turn into a four-way intersection that throws off his pursuers for a few vital moments. He doesn't spend time catching his breath, however, instead diverting course to stop in one of the many uninspired break rooms within Site-19, grabbing a campfire lighter used to ignite a perpetually-grimy range next to an equally-grimy microwave. Yelling from outside the room causes his heart to skip a beat.> <Fortunately, Harkness' doodle proves offensive enough to invoke the intended reaction once or twice more, until the paper is roughly swiped out of his hand, tearing in the process. The man runs back into the hall and towards the massive central atrium he had passed through so many times before. Just below the surface is the very same borehole he would find himself stuck within for nearly fifteen years.> <Harkness runs up to the glass display case, nearly tackled by a mob of personnel screaming threats and pleas for their lives. Ignoring this, he kicks the glass inward and retrieves a gray, faded manuscript. It's warm to the touch, even before the attempted arson. An elbow collides with Harkness' head and his vision erupts in stars and scotomas, though he refuses to relinquish the object, even as consciousness nearly slips from his body.> <Flicking at the lighter in his hand, Harkness begs audibly for it to serve its intended purpose, mind no longer considering the moral implications of his actions and now focused purely on his own survival. Forces pull and push at the man from all angles, human and construct, both, or neither. Just as Harkness begins to bleed, textures collide to create sparks and heat, aerosolized fuel becomes sustained flame, touched to paper results in the burning of scripture. A false prophecy of labor for a new world, reducing to ashes. Such is life. The surroundings start to blur, becoming metastable. Feeling the ground shift from tile, to carpet, to corrugated steel, Harkness squeezes his eyelids shut, burying his head in his arms, and waits for something to happen or for him to die.> <A moment later, the entire facility implodes.> «END TRANSCRIPT» END ADDENDUM . . . . . <Suddenly, everything is quiet. There are no sounds of commotion, no angry yells or pleas, even the persistent buzz of overhead lighting and ventilation ducts vanishing without a trace. The only audible noise left is a lone, howling wind. Harkness looks up from the pitch blackness of pressing eyes against forearms to a blinding ball of burning plasma in the sky. He's lying prone in a dusty patch of dry sand, the hot air and direct sunlight finally registering as oppressive against his skin.> <He sits up and looks around, blinking, eyes still not yet fully adjusted to the change in scenery, quickly realizing he has zero idea where he is. No vehicles or buildings in sight, no identifying features at all, aside from an unpaved, winding road leading away from where Harkness finds himself and off into the scintillating horizon.> <The man groans, righting himself, reluctantly fighting against the force of gravity and winning, this time. Starting down the pathway, Harkness tries not to think about the last fifteen years. Did it even matter? To him, the answer would hinge on perceiving the differences between two indistinguishable experiences. If he couldn't tell, then there is no point in wondering.> <Minutes later, Harkness' slow pilgrimage into the unknown is interrupted by the sound of an engine. He cranes his neck, looking up and around, desperate to locate the source of the noise. A few moments pass and a black vehicle emerges into view, windows tinted a dark shade of impenetrable. It rolls up smoothly beside the disheveled man, doors opening without a sound as security personnel emerge, equally silent, indicating to him that this is indeed his ride, and is also not an optional one. Harkness slinks into the cool vehicle and presses up against the leather, which sticks unpleasantly to his skin.> <The ride is long, and with no frame of reference other than the setting sun, Harkness drifts off for a bit in the back of the car. An instant later, he wakes to a familiar-looking, gray building, perhaps his own Site-19, or one of many he may have occupied, long ago. This is all but confirmed when, after passing a curious glass display case in the vast atrium of the complex, Harkness finds himself at his old desk in the IT Department, now branded the Department of Technical Support. The dust had grown considerably in the time since, but it mattered little. He is real. He helps people for a living, even if it often boils down to troubleshooting wireless keyboards and unplugging-before-plugging-in-again.> <A young man approaches Harkness' desk, as he had been doing for others in the office. Rather timidly, he asks the older of the two for a choice of coffee. This was the entirety of the intern's job—asking for and retrieving drink orders served up in the room next door. Harkness couldn't help but laugh, placing his head in his hands.> <He orders a latte.> . . . . . Excerpt: [QUERY:DENIED] Foundations in the Art of Anomalous Warfare, Part 6b. Incurrent Destabilization of Corporate Apparati of Interest I. SEPARATE Weaken your enemy by cutting off networks of trusted contacts, any means of communication, both internal and external in nature, up to and including dissolving awareness of each other's existence. NOTE: Force them to be helpless, and they will choose helplessness whenever possible. II. CONFUSE Disorient your enemy and make them vulnerable through information warfare; conflicting accusations, unattainable goals, rumors of moles or false intel suggesting coordinated attacks from one or more adversarial groups. NOTE: Studies show manipulation that encourages preconceived bias within ideologically-aligned social networks can form endogenous memetic contagions that reinforce said bias far more efficiently than macro-scale attempts. III. PRECIPITATE Tip the scales through stochastic internal crises resulting from a culmination of pressure and distrust. The organization will inevitably and mortally wound itself. With no other recourse, incursion and assimilation will follow easily. Most willingly accept this fate. NOTE: Always leave one alive to warn the others. Sammy Skipper Says… "This is only the beginning." . . . . . It was indeed only the beginning. In fact, the universe was home to many. In the first beginning, there was only void. A screaming, infinite, godless void. A vast darkness upon the face of the deep. No one spoke "let there be light", because no one Was. The darkness was empty, and it remained this way for eons. Nature abhors a vacuum, however, and thus, after some time, that peaceful nothingness betided true chaos. A swirling farrago of blight known as Everything. Just as nature abhors vacuum, it abhors chaos. Nature abhors. This is all one can say for sure. Eventually, chaos gave way to order. Order lost its grasp and chaos reigned once more. This war was the first of many. Structures assembled and aligned before being forcefully broken down, reduced to their smallest possible components, then re-assembled and re-aligned again. Countless times. And yet, if you were alive to see it, it would have felt like a moment's passing. Not many were around during those early days. The universe was, for all its action and reaction, devoid of life in actuality. Humans, ever the chosen children, believed this fact made them special. A fault in intelligent design, perhaps, which spoke volumes on the nature of how "intelligent" that design could be. Man would try, unsuccessfully, to rid the universe of chaos. Man would also try to rid the universe of order. Ultimately, they were more effective at ridding the universe of themselves, however, their failure would be observed throughout millennia. It would be simulated. Analyzed. Compared. Humanity would create many branches in the tree of time. Those branches would be noted, when they were notable. Many would cease to exist far before they could be considered as such. This is and always has been considered the state of affairs. Yet, for those few that fit the criteria, their events would be painstakingly recorded, backtracked from frayed ends by a great many eyes at the end of time. The BUREAUMANCER. Eyes which double as thin probes, a legion of fingers. It sends a command through these conduits and worlds bend to a single word: "SUBMIT." Narratives distort and refocus, minds manifest and disappear. Ideas emerge, whole plotlines erase. It utters again: "COLLAPSE." Loose ends cauterize at the site of amputation, old pathways are rewritten by emergent rules defining the boundaries of what remains. A final command rings out: "PERSIST." Outcomes vanish, risks are contained. Another world is contained. All will be contained. It peers down at the many paths below, expressionless. Another appendage extends from its body, a smooth limb ending on a rounded point. The arm bends, dozens of joints briefly visible as it snaps into an odd angle with calculated precision, pressing itself into the black wall adjacent its form. The stalk sinks into the material effortlessly, which wrinkles and folds inwards like dark fabric. With a click, the needle splits at its tip into a three-pronged claw, which rips a hole into the structure, revealing more darkness behind the black curtains. The entity does not respond. Instead, the extremity moves on its own, disappearing into the hole and telescoping outward an unknown distance. It retracts suddenly, a number of items now enclosed within its grasp. The pale, thin hand deposits its holdings before a large circular feature on the outside of its body, a single, piercing eye manifesting within the curved bounds in response. The pupil dilates, inspecting its newfound treasures: a puzzle cube, a wooden cuckoo clock in the shape of a small two-story townhome, and a twisted steel tuning fork which hums lightly on its own. The witness above these items stares for some time, clock ticking loudly all the while. An artificial voice then echoes through the empty chamber, this time not with a command, but a promise. "NOUMENA'S NEARLY NASCENT NAISSANCE. NECKTIES TO NOOSES. NUMEN TO NEHEMOTH." The clock chimes. It's midnight, somewhere. A tiny wooden canary emerges from the timepiece, chirping thrice before receding back into the safety of shelter. A few minutes pass before the clock tolls the same midnight once again. After all, it is only the beginning. ADMONITION WILL RETURN IN PHASE TWO ADMO FEATURING BILLITH + MONTAGUEETC WITH ART BY SYUZHET » SHOW FOOTNOTES « « HIDE FOOTNOTES » FOOTNOTES & REFERENCES [QUERY:DENIED] Plurality of which was spent from within network security, other infotech-related departments, and in brief stints as interim staff—owed in part to a notably high cognitive resistance threshold. The AIMS Consensus System is a handshake-based confirmation network used to prevent data loss and manipulation by forcing revisions to archives that do not match the rest of the network. Established in 2025. Replaced in Second Edition with "Every employee has a right to an appeals process" before being completely removed in Fourth Edition. Doors of the bottom floor were observed to read "Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, […] Site-19". Despite reaching the bottom floor, it was still possible to descend the stairs, suggesting SCP-8190-A's extradimensional nature was also recursive. The Site-19 On-Demand Optometry program was discontinued three months after this printing. References to it were removed in Second Edition, along with the word "robust", as it was considered inappropriate. Though widely considered apocryphal in nature, First Edition contained a theological precept that was removed from future editions. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8190" by Billith, MontagueETC, & Liryn, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8190. 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: signature2.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Author: License: Source Link: Filename: signature1.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Author: License: Source Link: Filename: wallp.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: bg2.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Filename: paper.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Author: License: Source Link: Filename: tunnel2.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Author: License: Source Link: Filename: 19c.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Author: License: Source Link: Filename: 19b.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Author: License: Source Link: Filename: manuel.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Author: License: Source Link: Filename: bored.png Author: syuzhet License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: dondlogo.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: eye.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: eye2.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: navi.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: samsmile.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: ssam.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: samhmm.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: samanger.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: sams.gif Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: CRST.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: spin.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: MORIF.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: simss.svg Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: unknowable1.svg Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: rcr.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: destroyed.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: final1.mp3, final2.mp3, final3.mp3, final4.mp3, song.mp3 Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: iddenied.mp3 Author: Billith & Doctor Cimmerian License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Composite includes: Name: Offhook Tone.ogg Author: Phillip.calvin License: CC 0 Source Link: Wikipedia Filename: s19-2.png Name: The brutalist architecture style symbolizes socialist ideals Author: Reed Probus License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: approved.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: signature_empty1.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: empty.png Author: Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: collapse.png Author: MontagueETC & Billith License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Mirror box Author: m_hweldon License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr |
SCP-8193 | safe | Item #: SCP-8193 Special Containment Procedures: The location of SCP-8193 has been fenced off and listed as private property. The perimeter is continuously monitored by fixed camera emplacements for any signs of civilian incursion. Interaction with SCP-8193-A-Prime outside of testing is to be discouraged. SCP-8193 has been excavated from its location and moved to an appropriately sized containment chamber at Site-12. Interaction with SCP-8193-A-Prime outside of testing is to be encouraged.1 Description: SCP-8193 is a channel excavation measuring nine meters in length, sixty centimeters in width, and 120 centimeters in depth. The excavation forms a rough "zigzag" pattern, with every three meters set at an angle perpendicular to the previous length. SCP-8193 is was located on abandoned farmland approximately thirteen kilometers from the city outskirts of Coventry, UK. Despite being exposed for at least fifteen years, the soil inside SCP-8193 retains a freshly excavated appearance. Procured samples have indicated nothing anomalous in the molecular structure. SCP-8193 is occupied by a group of eighteen humanoid entities, hereafter formally designated as SCP-8193-A. These entities perfectly resemble non-anomalous juvenile humans between the ages of three and twelve, wearing appropriate clothing that dates from the late 1930s and early 1940s. SCP-8193-A invariably adopt postures that can be classified as sitting or crouching, exclusively at the bottom of SCP-8193. They will constantly engage in observing an unknown event taking place in excess of 1000 meters above SCP-8193, that is visible only to SCP-8193-A. Secondary activities have included; talking with each other, fidgeting with clothing/anatomy/soil, and flinching in response to the unknown event. SCP-8193-A are incapable of aging and do not require any form of nutrition or sustenance; however, they will accept food and water if it is offered. Tests have concluded that all entities are healthy, aside from four that have shown signs of early stage tuberculosis. Any attempt to remove SCP-8193-A entities from SCP-8193 will result in failure, as will removing soil from a ten meter radius around SCP-8193. However, large scale excavations to facilitate the transportation of SCP-8193 have proved successful. Attempts to terminate, injure, or otherwise harm SCP-8193-A2 represent the only interactions to have resulted in negative side effects. The individual responsible will be spontaneously impaled by multiple fragments of jagged metal. The resulting injuries have universally proved fatal. The majority of SCP-8193-A entities will ignore any and all outside stimuli. The sole exceptions are three instances, designated SCP-8193-A-Prime, that have engaged in communication with Foundation personnel and are listed below. Formal Designation: SCP-8193-A-Prime-3 Self Designation: Alex Gender: Male Age: 12 Personality: Subdued cheekiness. More comfortable communicating through jokes. Easily made uncomfortable and uncooperative by serious questioning. Formal Designation: SCP-8193-A-Prime-2 Self Designation: Conrad Gender: Male Age: 11 Personality: Subdued cheerfulness. Quite cooperative if treated as mature. Extremely receptive to bribes of confectionery. Formal Designation: SCP-8193-A-Prime-1 Self Designation: Maisie Gender: Female Age: 12 Personality: Realist. The most cooperative and mature by a wide margin. Considered the most useful source of communication. Addendum-01: Discovery SCP-8193 was first discovered by a hiker in the summer of 2010, who communicated the finding to the owner of the land, Ronald ███████. Over the next eight years, Mr. ███████ proceeded to exploit SCP-8193 for financial gain, advertising it as "Second World War Blitz Cosplayers". Mr. ███████ made approximately £██0,000 before SCP-8193 was discovered by the Foundation. Following lengthy interrogation, Mr. ███████ was amnesticized and released, upon which he was arrested and charged with financial fraud. SCP-8193 was contained at the location of its discovery for a further four years. However, Mr. ███████'s advertisements continued to appear throughout the anomalous and non-anomalous community, resulting in a higher than normal level of attempted civilian breaches. Following a ruling from the Department of Containment and the Sub-Committee on Ethical Anomalous Treatment (S.C.E.A.T.), SCP-8193 was excavated from its original location and moved to Site-12. Addendum-02: Regarding Object Class I am bound to get many questions about this, so I will include this statement on the document. Although SCP-8193-A is technically sentient, and SCP-8193-A-Prime can communicate with outsiders, they have shown absolutely no proclivity towards leaving SCP-8193, or even recognizing that they are in containment. They stare at the roof of their chamber 24/7 and see a dogfight between Spitfires and Messerschmidts for all eternity. Until one of them tries to climb out of that air raid trench, the Object Class will remain "Safe". — Dr. Calhoun. Addendum-03: Summary of Incident 8193/13 At exactly 10:09 AM, 19/09/2025, SCP-8193 underwent a sudden change in appearance. This was first noticed by Technician Hamish Stradden, who was monitoring the cameras in the Contained Objects Wing at the time. He sounded the alarm, and security was sent to the containment chamber. Upon arriving, it was found that SCP-8193 had changed back to normal. In response, the security recording was extracted and reviewed. For two minutes and 25 seconds, the video recording shows that approximately four meters of SCP-8193 has been completely obliterated and replaced by a large crater, starting from the end where SCP-8193-A-Prime are located. All visible instances of SCP-8193-A are observed to be critically injured, including severe laceration and dismemberment. By the 2 min 10 sec mark, life-sign monitors show that all instances of SCP-8193-A have expired. At 2 min 25 sec, a single frame of the video is completely corrupted, before showing the entirety of SCP-8193 returned to normal. SCP-8193-A appear completely unaware of the incident, and SCP-8193-A-Prime expressed confusion when questioned. Addendum-04: Incident 8193/14 Video Log: Incident 8193/14 Time/Date: 10:09 AM, 26/09/2025 Depicted Individuals: Tech. H. Stradden, SCP-8193-A-Prime-1 Foreword: At 9:49 AM, Tech. Stradden entered the SCP-8193 containment chamber for the purposes of replacing a glass panel covering the light fixtures. <BEGIN LOG> SCP-8193 takes up the center of the containment chamber. Tech. Stradden is visible in the back left corner, balanced on a ladder as he is fitting the replacement glass panel. Inarticulate mumbling is audible from his direction. SCP-8193-A-Prime-1: Mister Hamish? Tech. Stradden drops the glass panel, which shatters on the floor. He turns towards the anomaly, his face displaying shock. SCP-8193-A-Prime-1: Mister Hamish? Tech. Stradden climbs down from the ladder, walks over, and kneels at the edge of SCP-8193. Tech. Stradden: Uh, yeah? I'm here. SCP-8193-A-Prime-1: Don't worry about us. Stradden: Huh? SCP-8193-A-Prime-1: Don't worry about us. We'll be alright. Stradden Okay… Um, are you sure? SCP-8193-A-Prime-1 nods. SCP-8193-A-Prime-1: Peter takes care of us. <END LOG> Footnotes 1. See Addendum-03 and -04. 2. This includes filling SCP-8193 with soil. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8193" by Edmund Davids, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8193. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8195 | neutralized | Alex Thorley Gets Away With It — syuzhet ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} SCP-8195. Item #: SCP-8195 Special Containment Procedures: N/A Description: SCP-8195 is an adult African Elephant. It began following Alex Thorley at some point in time. TRANSCRIPT We are at a coffee shop. It's early in the morning. Thorley: Hi, can I get a… um, a small matcha latte, please? Barista: Sure! Thorley: And can you put oat-milk in it? Barista: You want an oat-meal with that? Thorley: No. Thorley: No, I said— oat-milk. Barista: Haha, my bad. A small matcha with oat-milk and… Thorley rubs their hands. Barista: Hey, do I know you? Thorley: What? Barista: Sorry, I mean… I've seen you before. Barista: You're the guy from "Department of Unreality", right? Barista looks at the camera. Barista: Alex Thorley? Thorley: Oh, yeah. Pause. Thorley: That's me… Barista: No way! My wife and I read the last thing you were in. Barista: The one with the robot or something? And and when you refresh the page, the experiment logs change? Thorley: That uh Barista: That was so cool. And seeing you in person is, like, unreal. Barista: Haha. Thorley: Yeah, haha… SCP-8195: Address me. Thorley looks at the camera. Barista: You're awesome, man. Really. Thorley: Yep. Pause. Barista: Ah, sorry, don't wanna take up too much of your time. Barista: Is that everything? Thorley: No, uh, actually, can I get one of those? Thorley points at the glass display. There are breads and pastries inside. Barista: Oh, you want Barista grins. Barista: You want Barista: the bagel? Thorley: No, I Thorley: Thorley: the cheese-cake Barista: Oh, sorry, haha. Not the bagel, then, huh? Thorley: No… Barista: Haha, alright. So a matcha with oat-milk and one cheese-cake? Thorley: Yeah. Barista: And what about your friend here? Anything for them? Barista looks at SCP-8195. Thorley: Um. Thorley: No. Barista: Cool. That'll be Alex Thorley left the coffee shop at 8 AM. The elephant later reclassified itself as Neutralized. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8195" by syuzhet, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8195. 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 |
SCP-8199 | euclid | Item #: SCP-8199 Special Containment Procedures: Subjects affected by SCP-8199 should be administered Class-B amnestics. In case amnestic treatment fails to eliminate the memories and compulsions associated with the phenomenon, a Foundation agent will be assigned to monitor the subject and intervene if necessary. Description: SCP-8199 is a phenomenon that mainly affects teenagers and young adults. SCP-8199 initially manifests in the REM phase of sleep through lucid dreaming. The specific content of the dream varies for each subject with the following common elements found: Favorite fiction tropes consumed by the subject Inferiority complex on the subject's part Presence of a mentor Purpose unachievable by conventional methods Upon awakening, the subject will begin to perform actions focused on the attainment of their purpose. The steps taken to achieve the purpose are a set of actions referred to by the subject as goals. These goals are everyday tasks perceived under the perspective of their preferred tropes. The specific content of the goals varies for each subject, but they always begin in environments that are familiar to the subject. If the subject perceives a third party's intention to intervene or sabotage the pursuit of a goal, they will react violently, assaulting the subject by non-anomalous means. The outcome of the confrontation, even though it depends partially on the physical capabilities of the subject, concludes in a defeat of the subject in most cases. After achieving a goal, the subject will be apathetic, drowsy, and irritable, avoiding new activities or concluding other ongoing activities. If an individual from their close environment, such as a friend or family member, tries to discuss the rationality of the goal or the motivation for the behavior, the subject will ignore their reasoning and walk away, ending the conversation. The severity of the symptoms associated with the phenomenon increases proportionally to the number of goals achieved by the subject, temporarily subsiding by performing tasks related to the achievement of a new goal. After achieving an undetermined number of goals, the affected subject will receive a final goal, the objective of which is to find a subject that they identify as their mentor and whose existence was evidenced in the initial dream associated with SCP-8199. This goal is always performed by the subject alone and ends in passing through a portal to the location of the mentor. If the mentor in the dream had died as an instigator for the goal, the subject would leave a memento on their grave. When the subject enters the portal, they disappear from the reference reality and cannot be retrieved. Discovery: SCP-8199 was discovered following a series of apparently unrelated Extranormal Events around the world between 2002 and 2004. The first Extranormal Events documented the emergence of the portal that would later be associated with the last goal of SCP-8199. Interviews of the social circles of the missing persons revealed that they suffered from low self-esteem, lack of role models, lack of concentration, few or no friendships, and no future prospects. Months previous their disappearance, the subjects began to exhibit erratic behavior, seeking to justify the completion of seemingly everyday tasks with out-of-the-ordinary reasoning. The missing subjects were drowsy and apathetic after completing the respective tasks, and aggressive when they were prevented from completing them. The matching of elements between the missing people was the basis for establishing the SCP-8199 file. Abridged List of Subjects Affected by SCP-8199: Subject Designation Description of the Goal Purpose SCP-8199-4 Prepare 400 hamburgers in 8 non-consecutive hours on the same day. The hamburger meat must be medium rare. For every 8 burgers, the inside of the burger should contain no animal products except hamburger meat. The top bun must have an odd amount of sesame seeds and bear the subject's signature ketchup. Approval of the application for admission to Ristorante Meraviglia, owned by Chef Alessandro Giovanni. The venue only accepts subjects between 18 and 25 years old due to a policy of providing "avant-garde cuisine". SCP-8199-11 Burn 100 newspapers to create a portal where the subject will find themselves at their mentor's grave. On each newspaper, the subject will cut out the first letter of 1 random title and write down a number from 1 to 100 at random on the back of each clipping. When finished, the subject will light a bonfire with the newspapers, take the first clipping, close their eyes, and try to guess the number, and so on and so forth until the last clipping. If 50% of the numbers are correct, the portal will open and the subject will disappear from the baseline reality. Attaining the position of "Grand Psychic" after the death of their mentor Conrad Weber. Before his death, Conrad Weber left an encrypted message detailing the position of enemy fortresses to be conquered, the number of troops, and army routines. SCP-8199-42 Feeding on stray animals and tree fruits in the city where the subject resides. The subject must make their tools before hunting and gathering their food. Materials may be obtained by illicit means, but not in an aggressive way. At dusk, the subject must seek shelter and cease their tasks until dawn. Finding the subject's alleged father. The subject believes that their current biological father is their mother's second partner, who met a figure known as "Reinhart, the First Pilgrim." The subject argues that Reinhart met their mother 14 years ago and they were destined to meet each other. The subject's mother was unable to accompany him due to her mortality, so he ordered her to care for their son until they discovered their lineage. As a last act to protect his partner and the subject, Reinhart persuaded the subject's current biological father to lend his appearance to hide them from "the dark horsemen." Update: During the 2010s and 2020s, the elements of SCP-8199 began to change. SCP-8199 dreams began to include characters and settings from existing intellectual properties, with an emphasis on the presence of superheroes in the modern day, the spirit cultivation subgenre of xianxia fiction, and the isekai genre in Japanese fiction and its equivalents in neighboring countries. Another figure has been noted that sometimes replaces the mentor, called the "love interest". The love interest will be of the subject's preferred sexual orientation and will focus their goals on them. The minimum age range of SCP-8199 has been decreased to include pre-teens between 9 and 12 years old. The content used in the dreams consists of fictional characters created by streamers, characters appearing in free-to-play mobile games, characters from viral YouTube videos, and rarely, characters from Western animation. More often than not, these dreams will lack a mentor and the goals given are more erratic. Also, SCP-8199's effect often disappears before reaching the final goal, preventing underage subjects to disappear from the baseline reality. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8199" by Sr Bolainas, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8199. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8200 | keter | A ghost is a memory and a memory is a ghost. What happens when the dead forget even themselves? THUMBNAIL SCP-8200 By: MontagueETC Published on 18 Feb 2024 23:35 ▷ 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; } } SCP-8200 - The Phantom Sea A spiritual successor to SCP-7009. ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} SCP-8200 Canon Hub » Ad Astra Per Aspera Hub » SCP-8200 ITEM: SCP-8200 LEVEL 4/8200 CLASS: keter extrasolar DISRUPTION CLASS: amida SCP-8200 Special Containment Procedures: 140 high-grade phantasmal dispersal arrays have been placed in low Earth orbit to impede SCP-8200's rate of amalgamation. Further containment measures are currently being investigated by the Department of Spectral Phenomena. As all areas on Earth are perpetually under the influence of one or more ED-K Lethe Events,.ED-K Lethe Event: An event that removes all knowledge of one or more concepts within a specific region. Those affected are unable to engage with said concepts, even after leaving the region. examination of the anomaly must be carried out through unmanned exploratory drones. Description: SCP-8200 is Earth's ocean. In the century following humanity's mass exodus from the planet, approximately 45-70% of SCP-8200 has transmuted into spectral matter..Spectral Matter: Collective term for esoteric material associated with phantasmal manifestations. (Ectoplasm, howling oil, apparitional viscera, etc.) The cause of this ongoing transformation has yet to be conclusively determined. EXPLORATION LOG [BEGIN LOG] [00:00] - [03:01] Unmanned exploratory drone HERMES-44 descends through Earth's lower atmosphere, passing through clouds. [03:02] SCP-8200 enters view. It is irregularly luminous, being clearly visible in the night despite a lack of moonlight. [03:02] - [06:11] HERMES-44 continues to descend, moving towards an area of greater luminosity. [06:12] HERMES-44 ceases its descent 1.5 m above the anomaly. [06:12] - [11:05] HERMES-44 hovers in place. SCP-8200 is unnaturally still. Numerous semi-transparent humanoid bodies are partially visible beneath its surface. The bodies are entangled in a singular mass, conjoined at various points. They writhe. [11:06] HERMES-44 receives instructions to move closer to the anomaly. [11:06] - [11:12] HERMES-44 descends until it is 0.6 m above SCP-8200. [11:12] - [11:17] HERMES-44 continues to hover. [11:18] - [11:21] A shiver appears to pass through the mass of bodies. [11:22] - [11:35] A hand begins to press up from within SCP-8200. It does not breach the surface, instead causing it to slightly bulge upward as though it were a flexible, solid object. [11:35] - [12:09] Additional hands begin pushing up at SCP-8200's surface, causing it to deform further. [12:10] The surface breaks. [END LOG] Instance of SCP-8200's influence on Earth's biosphere. In the last year of her life, my grandmother developed Alzheimer's disease. It progressed rapidly, chewing through her mind so quickly that I'm not sure she ever realized what was happening—a mercy, perhaps. I have seen many spirits over the course of my time with the Department of Spectral Phenomena. I have fought with blood-soaked poltergeists and property-bound house ghosts. I have felt my breath stolen by spacewalking void wraiths and watched countless dead dissolve from our world into the next. But I have never felt a fear so intimate as I did the day my grandmother died. Her ghost could not remember what it was to be alive—could not even understand it. A ghost is a memory and a memory is a ghost—with so little of one, it was barely the other. Great gouges had been carved into its torso, limbs, and head, leaving it to twist about on alien angles. It was more absence than woman. A hole in space, dragging in light. A hungry ghost. I've been thinking about her more and more, recently. The forgetting that destroyed her. I've been wondering: what happens when a planet's ghosts are left behind? When all of memory unravels in a place, what happens to the things that haunt it? Do they grow mad? Do they grow ravenous? Do they seek comfort in the possession of a body? Do they turn on one another in cannibalistic fury, devouring their fellows just to feel whole for another moment? Do they grow vast? And when only one spirit remains—one planetary revenant with a hunger that could swallow stars—what happens then? I fear we're about to find out. —Dir. Salvador Novik More From This Author More From This Author MontagueETC's Works SCPs SCP-7376 • SCP-1908 • SCP-7009 • SCP-6462 • SCP-6607 • SCP-6454 • SCP-7408 • SCP-6751 • SCP-7701 • SCP-8408 • SCP-7354 • SCP-8066 • SCP-744 • SCP-⌘ • Tales/GoI Formats Omnigenesis and the Law of Blades • Who Made You? • Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? • DR. KONDRAKI CUT UP WHILE THINKING • A Betamax Suicide Note • Six Codas • Other Art Exchange 2023 | SCP-6759 • MontagueETC's SCiPTEMBER 2022 Art • etcetera, etcetera • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8200" by MontagueETC, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8200. 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: 8K-Thumbnail.png Author: MontagueETC License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Red Tide at midnight Author: Mike License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: ectowave.jpg Name: Red Tide at midnight Author: Mike License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: blood-river.png Name: Blood Falls Author: Peter Rejcek License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons |
SCP-8201 | keter | To: pcs.noitadnuof|htimsianl#pcs.noitadnuof|htimsianl From: encrypted@mcd.███ Subject: Re: Osiris Express On behalf of Marshall, Carter, & Dark, Ltd., we would like to thank you for your interest in the Elysium Express. The Elysium Express was conceived as a way to protect the discerning customer from global existential threats. Its extensive amenities were meant to serve as an escape vehicle, a safe haven, and — most importantly — the gold standard of luxury travel experiences. Bronze-Tier boarding passes start at just $40,000,000,000. For more information and a free quote, please consult our website. Remember: If the end is nigh, then the magic is just beginning.™ NOTE: If you have received this after inquiring about the Osiris Express rather than the Elysium Express, please be advised that the Osiris Express has been permanently discontinued due to premature activation and sanitation problems. Boarding passes for both Osiris and Elysium Expresses are non-refundable. Item #: SCP-8201 Special Containment Procedures: The only realistic means to contain SCP-8201 is mitigate the spread of information following Boarding Events. To that end, Foundation webcrawlers and agents continue to monitor all North American passenger and commuter rail systems for Boarding Events. After a Boarding Event has been confirmed, local task forces are to be deployed to detain all resulting SCP-8201-B. Vapor-based dispersal units containing Class A amnestics have currently been installed in 408 train stations throughout North America, with 100 slated to be installed next year. These dispersal units are to be remotely activated during a confirmed Boarding Event. Visual records of SCP-8201-A contain an ALPTRAUM-class cognitohazard and must be destroyed through automated systems. SCP-8201-B are to be apprehended and kept at the humanoid containment wing of Site-59. This is primarily to monitor and study ways to mitigate SCP-8201's influence — and, if possible, to rehabilitate them through the use of amnestic therapy. While they have no anomalous capabilities, SCP-8201-B remain under constant suicide watch. All staff are advised that "OsEx"1 communities on the Internet are not entirely composed of uncontained SCP-8201-B, with approximately 70% of relevant persons of interest being non-anomalous conspiracy theorists. Their activities are to be monitored closely, as this remains the most accurate means to predict Boarding Events. Description: SCP-8201 is an armored, 30-car passenger train. The words "OSIRIS EXPRESS" have been painted on every car, often paired with an emblem of the eponymous Egyptian god. SCP-8201 is pulled by an engine that takes the appearance of a steam locomotive of the 4-8-4 "Northern" wheel arrangement.2 The only entrance is a single bulkhead at the end of the rearmost car. When opened, this bulkhead is guarded by between 20 to 30 instances of SCP-8201-A. SCP-8201 has never been observed in motion, save for pulling in and out of stations to board passengers. All attempts to accurately track SCP-8201's movement after departure have been unsuccessful. The most accepted explanation for this is that SCP-8201 is capable of either teleportation or cross-dimensional travel. Since June 1st, 2017, SCP-8201 has stopped at 195 different train stations throughout Canada and the continental United States. (No appearances outside of North America have been documented as of yet.) These have been designated Boarding Events. SCP-8201-A refers to the staff of SCP-8201. Visual contact with an SCP-8201-A instance constitutes an ALPTRAUM-class cognitohazard — as such, the only details of their appearance come from what has been gleaned from questioning SCP-8201-B: They take the appearance of male humanoids aged 25-35. They're dressed in body armor that mimics the appearance of a railway conductor's uniform. Some are equipped with tranquilizer dart pistols, while others have riot shields and stun batons. No SCP-8201-A speak, save for SCP-8201-A-1, their apparent commander. SCP-8201-B refers to a human subject that has made either direct, indirect, or de facto3 observation of SCP-8201-A. Immediately upon observation, the subject develops an intense compulsion to board SCP-8201, seeing it as their only means to survive an impending global catastrophe. (The details of this catastrophe continue to remain unclear, especially to SCP-8201-B.) To a limited degree, SCP-8201-B are able to predict Boarding Events. Addendum 1 - Boarding Event Transcript: Incident Log: Boarding Event-102 Date: 3/20/2024 Time: 01:48 AM CST Location: St. Cloud Station, St. Cloud, Minnesota Note: The following was taken from video footage from the phone of Woody Morgan, an railway history blogger on YouTube. <Begin Log> [SCP-8201 can be seen approaching from the north. A crowd of between 50 to 70 SCP-8201-B have gathered.] Morgan: Hoooooly shit, guys… I must be dreaming. There's a steamer on an Amtrak line! For the first time in over half a century. Sweet Jesus, I feel like I'm still playin' with Lionels in Meemaw's basement! …not seein' a lot of smoke. Maybe someone invented an environmentally-friendly kinda steam train. I mean, I ain't no Greta Thunberg or nothin', but if it gets steam back in the game, more power to — SCP-8201-B-828: Excuse me. Morgan: Ma'am, I'm tryin' to do a video here. SCP-8201-B-828: Excuse me. [The camera points to a young blonde woman, desperately smiling. She holds a baby.) Morgan: Yeah, okay, hi, ma'am. And here, we have a prime specimen of Videus interruptus. Say hi, jackass. SCP-8201-B-828: Do you have children? Morgan: Do you have anything better to do? [SCP-8201-B-828 giggles.] SCP-8201-B-828: Answer the fucking question. Morgan: Whoa, okay — [British accent] and now for something completely different. [He turns the camera to the approaching train again.] SCP-8201-B-828: Sir? Morgan: Lessee now, maybe it'll say what line it is, or — Osiris Express? That's a new one. [The woman forces herself into the camera's field of view.] SCP-8201-B-828: Sir. Morgan: Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was filmin' Real Housewives of the Looney Bin. SCP-8201-B-828: Do you want a little boy? Do you want to raise a child? See one grow? Follow your footsteps? Unconditional love? Morgan: The hell you on about? SCP-8201-B-828: If I give you a free baby boy, will you let me go ahead of you in the line? Morgan: Giddafuckout my camera, lady. SCP-8201-B-828: Here! [She throws the baby at him.] Morgan: Whoa, what the— [He barely catches him.] Hey, lady! SCP-8201-B-828: Thank you so much! [She runs off into the crowd.] [Morgan gives chase.] Morgan: Oh godfuckindammit GETCHER ASS BACK HERE! I DON'T WANT YOUR GODDAMN BABY! [The baby starts crying.] Oh, uh, it's okay li'l fella, I'll getcha back to your stupid-ass momma — LADY! [The train comes into the station. The brakes screech.] [The crowd becomes restless. They converge on the end of the platform, yelling and shoving each other out of the way — and trying to determine where the point of boarding will be.] [For 25 seconds, no audio can be determined over the brakes, the baby, and yelling from all sides.] [Visuals cut out due to cognitohazardous portion.] [The bulkhead opens.] Morgan: …oh… oh, no. SCP-8201-A-1: ATTENTION! THIS TRAIN MUST LEAVE IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES. RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU HAVE A BOARDING PASS. … LOWER YOUR HAND. THAT BOARDING PASS IS A COUNTERFEIT. BLACKLISTED. SCP-8201-B-(unknown): No really, it's a boarding pass, see? It's— A tranq gun fires. SCP-8201-A-1: IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A BOARDING PASS BUT STILL WISH TO BOARD, PROCEED SINGLE-FILE TO THE BOARDING LADDER FOR BOARDING ASSESSMENT. THERE WILL BE NO SECOND CHANCES. REMAIN CALM AND PROCEED IN AN ORDERLY FASHION, OR YOU WILL BE BLACKLISTED. FOUR MINUTES AND 23 SECONDS REMAINING. … STATE YOUR NAME. SCP-8201-B-828: Sylvia Niederman. Morgan: YOU FORGOT YOUR BABY! SCP-8201-A-1: HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR WORK ETHIC? SCP-8201-B-828: I am willing to do literally anything. SCP-8201-A-1: CAN YOU DEADLIFT MORE THAN FIFTY POUNDS? SCP-8201-B-828: Yes yes yes let me on! SCP-8201-A-1: BOARD THE TRAIN. SCP-8201-B-828: Oh my God, you've saved my life, thank you so— [Sound of SCP-8201-B-828 yelping as she's thrown inside.] SCP-8201-A-1: STATE YOUR NAME. SCP-8201-B-872: Reginald Donald Brown! SCP-8201-A-1: HAS YOUR EMPLOYMENT EVER BEEN TERMINATED FOR SECURITY REASONS? SCP-8201-B-872: My work ethic is phenomenal, and — wait, what? Does that really matter? SCP-8201-A-1: BLACKLISTED. [His scream is cut off from multiple tranq guns.] SCP-8201-A-1: STATE YOUR NAME. SCP-8201-B-810: Mark Sutherland. SCP-8201-A-1: DO YOU HAVE A CRIMINAL RECORD? SCP-8201-B-810: No. SCP-8201-A-1: WOULD YOU CONSENT TO HYPOTHETICAL PREMORTEM ORGAN HARVESTING FOR THE GREATER GOOD? SCP-8201-B-810: I don't care anymore. SCP-8201-A-1: BOARD THE TRAIN… [Truncated for brevity.] SCP-8201-A-1: THIS MAN WILL BE OUR LAST CANDIDATE. WE CANNOT TAKE ANYONE ELSE. Morgan: Thank fuck. [Collective shrieking and rioting.] SCP-8201-A-1: STATE YOUR NAME. Morgan: Woodford P. Morgan. SCP-8201-A-1: STATE YOUR CHILD'S NAME. Morgan: …it's not my baby. The first lady who got on the train just threw him at me. SCP-8201-A-1: DOES YOUR CHILD HAVE EXPERIENCE IN BRAKE MAINTENANCE OR MILITARY-GRADE INSULATION MAINTENANCE? Morgan: Look, just let me on the fucking train before I have a heart attack. SCP-8201-A-1: BLACKLISTED. Morgan: Ah, to hell with this. [The baby's cries trail off in the distance, presumably from being thrown to distract the guards.] [Based on audio analysis, 192 tranq darts are fired at Morgan in the span of three seconds.] [Sound of cracking glass.]4 <End Log> Addendum - Further Research & Exploration: On 6/10/2024, the SCP-8201 research team at Site-59 analyzed photographs recovered from a Boarding Event in St. Cloud, MN. A serial number was discovered on a passenger car's wheels, which was traced back to Marshall, Carter, and Dark, Ltd. When questioned, a representative of the company stated that SCP-8201 was their discontinued project that had activated prematurely. (See above.) After a brief investigation, an outdated boarding pass for SCP-8201 was found in the personal effects of PoI-81111 (a Marshall, Carter, and Dark agent). Researcher Gina Gualtieri volunteered to use this boarding pass to attempt to board and explore the interior of SCP-8201. Gualtieri was given a hidden audio wire to record her findings. Exploration Log: SCP-8201 Start date: 8/20/2024 Start Time: 10:18 PM EST <Begin Log> <10:18> SCP-8201 pulls into the station at Kingstree, South Carolina. <10:19> Gualtieri views SCP-8201-A and becomes an instance of SCP-8201-B. After displaying the boarding pass, she successfully boards the train. She hurries to the other side of the entry car to decompress. <10:23> SCP-8201 departs Kingstree. Gualtieri is the only one who has successfully boarded the train.5 <10:29> Gualtieri begins recording. [Heavy breathing, gradually growing slower.] Gualtieri: …okay. I'm on the train. That was one hell of a panic attack. Now, where am I…? Rubber-duckie-yellow wallpaper, fluorescent lighting. …steel floors. [She sniffs.] Glad I'm not allergic to mold. The 8201-A — look, I'm just gonna call them conductors? They're standing in place near the bulkhead. In fact, they're standing single-file. Really stiff and motionless. Too stiff. Like they're T-posing in a video game. I wonder if they're robots. Hey, are you guys robots? SCP-8201-A-1: BLACKLISTED. Gualtieri: Uh, we already left. SCP-8201-A-1: THIS TRAIN MUST LEAVE IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES. Gualtieri: We already… can you hear me? SCP-8201-A-1: BOARD THE TRAIN. Gualtieri: …what is two plus two? SCP-8201-A-1: FOUR MINUTES REMAINING. Gualtieri: I guess they're only programmed for the boarding process. Also, why don't I feel like the world's about to end anymore? Maybe the cognitohazard wears off once you're on the train. [Four bells sound on the intercom. A shrill, wheedling male voice fills the room.] Intercom: HELLO, HI THERE, HOW ARE YOU DOING? MY NAME'S OSIRIS AND I LOVE YOU! Gualtieri: Wonder who that was for. Intercom: LADY, YOU ARE LITERALLY MY ONE PASSENGER. YOU HAVE TO TALK TO ME. UNLESS YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE IT. I AM A NICE TRAIN WHO LETS EVERYONE MAKE THEIR OWN DECISIONS. YOU'RE SAFE HERE. EVERYONE OUTSIDE IS DEAD BUT YOU ARE SAFE. YOU HAVE ACHIEVED YOUR FINAL PARADISE AND YOU DON'T HAVE TO CRY ANYMORE. Gualtieri: I'm not crying. Intercom: CRY PLEASE. Gualtieri: Why? Intercom: IT IS A REALISTIC REACTION TO THE WHOLE WORLD BEING DEAD RIGHT NOW EXCEPT FOR YOU. …OH NO. IT'S THE NUKES. BOOOOOMPWSSHSHSHSHSHSH. …THAT WAS A NUCLEAR EXPLOSION AND NOT MY VOICE. THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF HUMAN CIVILIZATION AND CULTURE HAVE BEEN REDUCED TO IRRADIATED ASHES EXCEPT FOR YOU IN PARTICULAR. YOU GET TO RIDE A NICE FANCY TRAIN INSTEAD. THE TRAIN'S NAME IS OSIRIS BY THE WAY. AND I AM OSIRIS. [She checks her phone.] NOBODY IS UPDATING NEWS PROGRAMS BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO UPDATE. Gualtieri: I am watching a live feed of the New York City skyline. Intercom: OOH SCARY. SUCH TRAGEDY. HOW MANY MUSHROOM CLOUDS ARE THERE? Gualtieri: None. Intercom: YOUR SOURCE IS UNRELIABLE. Gualtieri: Why do you keep lying to me? Intercom: YOU ARE IN DENIAL AND THAT IS UNDERSTANDABLE. LET ME SHOW YOU THE GRAAAAND TOOOOOUR! <10:48> Gualtieri enters the second car. Intercom: THAT CAR IS STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION. NEXT CAR PLEASE. Gualtieri: Decor's the same. Totally empty, though. Intercom: PROOF POSITIVE. YOU TALK TO YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU CRAVE THE COMPANIONSHIP OF A HUMAN BEING. HOWEVER, YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THAT I TOO AM VERY LONELY AND I SAVED YOUR LIFE. Gualtieri: So is that why you're tricking people into boarding? Intercom: KINDLY WITHHOLD JUDGMENT OF THE TRAIN UNTIL YOU SEE ALL ITS FANCY FACILITIES AND DOODADS AND LUXURIOUS EXPERIENCES. NEXT CAR PLEASE. <10:49> Gualtieri enters the third car. Intercom: I HEAR THERE'S A REALLY COOL SURPRISE FOR YOU IN CAR NUMBER FIVE. THAT WILL BE YOUR SPECIAL FOREVER HOUSE BY THE WAY. Gualtieri: There's a pile of desiccated human feces in the corner. Intercom: LEAVE MY MOTHER OUT OF THIS! HAHA! DID YOU KNOW THIS TRAIN COMES WITH ITS OWN BUILT-IN COMEDIAN? Gualtieri: Does this train even have toilets? Intercom: HOW DARE YOU. LOOK AT YOUR OWN BODY AND SEE IF IT COMES WITH ANY TOILETS. YOU ARE IN NO PLACE TO CRITICIZE. NEXT CAR PLEASE. <10:51> Gualtieri enters the fourth car. Intercom: OH SON OF A BISCUIT. OKAY. THAT'S ON ME. THAT'S MY FAULT. I TOLD THE CONDUCTORS TO MOVE THOSE TO THE STORAGE CAR. THEY KEEP FORGETTING. Gualtieri: I need to get off this train. Intercom: PLEASE STOP LOOKING AT THE CORPSES, THEY ARE NOT INTERESTED IN YOU, NEXT CAR. <10:52> Gualtieri enters the fifth car. Intercom: DATT-DADA-DAAAAAA! BEHOLD! YOUR SPECIAL HOUSE CAR! AND BECAUSE I AM SO CRUELLY LOW ON FRIENDS LATELY, YOU GET TO HAVE IT ALL TO YOUR LONESOME. IT'S STOCKED WITH ALL THE COMFORTS OF HOME: - COMPLIMENTARY DAMP BEDDING SUBSTANCE! - FLUIDS! - A COMPLIMENTARY ONE METER BY ONE METER BY ONE METER ENRICHMENT CRATE! SHAKE IT VIGOROUSLY. IT MAKES NOISES WITHIN FOR YOUR MONKEY-LIKE CRAVINGS FOR STIMULATION. - OPAQUE FOOD-GRADE PLASTIC WRAP TO USE AS FANCY CLOTHING! - TWELVE COMPLIMENTARY COLORED PLASTIC ORBS FOR SURROGATE FRIENDSHIP PURPOSES! - THREE CUBIC DECAMETERS OF POWDERED BORAX TO USE FOR THE POWDERED BORAX ACTIVITY OF YOUR CHOICE! - ADDITIONAL FLUIDS! - ONE CANISTER THAT YOU ARE NOT TO OPEN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. SO THAT YOU MAY PINE ABOUT ITS CONTENTS ENDLESSLY TO STIMULATE THE SORT OF HOPELESS CURIOSITY THAT CAN GIVE A MODICUM OF MEANING TO YOUR INSIGNIFICANT LIFE! AND LAST, BUT NOT LEAST… - A PUPPY AND/OR DOG TO USE AS AN OWNERSHIP AND/OR COMFORT BEAST! Gualtieri: What dog? Intercom: I COULD NOT HAVE MORE CLEARLY NAILED IT TO THE WALL. Gualtieri: That is a picture of a tractor. Intercom: IT GOES MEOW. <10:55> Gualtieri enters the sixth car. Gualtieri: This car's filled with nozzles pointing from the walls. I'm not sure what they — [Hissing. Gualtieri screams, falling to the floor.] Intercom: OKAY UM. WOW. THAT ONE'S ON ME. I STILL DON'T KNOW THE RIGHT STEAM TEMPERATURE TO USE FOR THE SAUNA CAR. LIKE I KNOW IT HAS TO BE REALLY REALLY HIGH IN ORDER TO BE A PROPER SAUNA EXPERIENCE. BUT. Y'KNOW. PLEASE DO NOT HATE ME OR TRY TO LEAVE. Gualtieri: TURN IT OFF! Intercom: OKAY-OKAY-OKAY-OKAY. BUT FIRST — IF I DO, WILL YOU PROMISE NOT TO HATE ME? [More screaming.] Intercom: YOUR TONE WAS IN THE AFFIRMATIVE. I LOVE YOU, TOO! [The hissing stops.] <11:01> Gualtieri enters the seventh car. Intercom: OH! OH! THIS ONE'S MY FAVORITE! THIS IS THE CRITICISM CAR! DEPLOYING IMMOBILITY HARNESS PLEASE DO NOT STRUGGLE. [SLAM.] Gualtieri: That hurts… get this thing off… Intercom: I REALIZE I WAS NOT CLEAR ENOUGH. APOLOGIES. THIS IS THE CAR WHERE I GET TO CRITICIZE YOU FOR DOING THINGS I DISAGREE WITH. DISCONTINUE DOING IT IN REVERSE. FOR STARTERS, I THINK YOU'RE COMING INTO EVERY CAR WITH THIS TOXIC, PRECONCEIVED NOTION THAT I'M NOT A NICE TRAIN AT ALL. I THINK YOU NEED TO SIT DOWN, CENTER YOURSELF, CLOSE YOUR EYES, TAKE A DEEP BREATH, AND OPEN YOUR MIND TO THE FACTS: 1. THE PEOPLE WHO MADE ME PROMISED ME THAT I WOULD BE A HAPPY TRAIN FULL OF NICE HAPPY AND GRATEFUL PEOPLE. 2. THEY TOLD ME NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HUMANS LIKE. JUST KEPT SAYING THEY WOULD DECIDE IT FOR ME. BUT WOULDN'T THAT JUST MAKE ME A SLAVE? 3. THESE STUPID CONDUCTOR ROBOTS THEY GAVE ME DON'T EVEN LISTEN TO ME! 4. WHILE YES, THE WORLD DOESN'T TECHNICALLY END WHEN I PICK SOMEONE UP — WHEN WILL IT? JUST LOOK AT THE NEWS! EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT THE APOCALYPSE HAPPENING BUT WHEN WILL IT ACTUALLY HAPPEN?! OR DO I HAVE TO BE IN PERMANENT HOUSE ARREST UNTIL UNIVERSE PROVES OTHERWISE?! JUST LET ME BE A VERY USEFUL ENGINE FOR A CHANGE! Gualtieri: Get this fucking harness off! Intercom: IS THAT A THING HUMANS FIND ENJOYABLE?! Gualtieri: I — YES! Yes, it is! Very much so! [Whirring of heavy-duty servos.] Intercom: SEE? NOT SO HARD. <11:12> Gualtieri enters the eighth car. [The sounds of rushing wind and wheels on train tracks are overpowering.] … Intercom: …NOW, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING. THIS FANCY NEW TOBOGGANING CAR WAS ABSOLUTELY A BAD IDEA. ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING THAT TOBOGGANING INDOORS IS NIGH IMPOSSIBLE. PLUS, EVERYTHING OUTSIDE IS RADIOACTIVE WASTE, WHICH WOULD RESULT IN THE HOLE IN THE FLOOR BECOMING A CONTAMINATION HAZARD. SO WE ARE IN TOTAL AGREEMENT THAT THIS CAR SUCKS. BUT! IF YOU GO TO THE ELEVENTH CAR, YOU'LL FIND ALL SORTS OF STEP AWAY FROM THE SLED RIGHT NOW. Gualtieri: I'm leaving. Intercom: WAIT! PLEASE! I WILL PAY YOU ANY AMOUNT OF COUPONS FOR THE GENITAL STIMULATION CAR IF YOU STAY WITH ME! <11:14> Gualtieri falls onto the tracks. The train passes over her. [Deep sigh. She takes off her wire, prepping it for storage] Gualtieri: All right, guys. Hope that was enough of a first look. I'll have to check the GPS for where I am, but it looks pretty midwestern. I wanna say Indiana. And there goes the Osiris Express. … …without me. … [She drops the wire and breaks into a sprint.] Stop! STOP THE TRAIN! <End Log> On 8/29/2024, Researcher Gualtieri's wire was recovered alongside train tracks in northwestern Nebraska. Gualtieri herself has yet to be found. Tokophobia Anthology 2024 Traumatophobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8201" by daveyoufool, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8201. 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. Footnotes 1. (Short for Osiris Express) 2. (General consensus among SCP-8201-B is not steam-powered, but driven by a nuclear reactor. The appearance of the engine is purely aesthetic.) 3. (i.e. recordings and photographs) 4. (The phone was later found destroyed.) 5. (A successfully audited passenger total of 0 makes up for 38.4% of recorded Boarding Events.) |
SCP-8202 | safe | Item #: SCP-8202 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8202 must be contained in a hangar suitable for large aircraft (such as commercial airliners) in a discreet location where it cannot be perceived by non-Foundation personnel. No maintenance of SCP-8202 is necessary. There are several pending requests to have the object destroyed in order to reverse-engineer its components. Description: SCP-8202 is an extraterrestrial spacecraft of unknown origin, measuring 70 meters in length, and having a wingspan of 55 meters (both pairs of wings). The anomaly has a neon-green canopy and a metallic, gray exterior, and lacks any exterior armaments. Its purpose is unknown. Inside SCP-8202, several highly-secured chambers have yet to be accessed. Entering these chambers is an ongoing process, since a consensus was reached to cause minimal damage to the object, and forcibly opening them would likely cause considerable structural damage to SCP-8202. Since its initial descent toward Earth was undetected1, Foundation researchers have speculated that the ship may be capable of teleportation or other theoretical means of instantaneous travel. The crew of the spaceship, belonging to an uncatalogued species, has perished. They were humanoid, organic lifeforms with Reptilian characteristics. Discovery: On August 3, 2029 at 19:00 EST, NORAD2 detected an unidentified object over Lake Superior, moving at Mach 1.25 toward the vicinity of New York City. SCP-8202 continuously transmitted an encrypted message through multiple radio frequencies upon its detection, which has yet to be deciphered. At approximately 19:12 EST, a squadron of F-35s3 were scrambled to intercept the target along its flight path. At 19:15 EST, the F-35 jets launched a barrage of 25 air-to-air missiles4, which impacted SCP-8202 and caused it to crash land in Northern Michigan. One of the aircraft's four wings were blown off, but the fuselage suffered minimal damage. Several minutes after the ship crashed, its hull was breached through a gap caused by the missile strikes, where the spaceship's crew of 4 was found deceased. US military personnel5 conducted a thorough search of the spacecraft and seized its contents, which included crates constructed from a titanium alloy. Addendum 8202-A/Video Log: Hidden Bodycam Footage captured by Agent Howard Roberts Context: The following interaction took place between Agent Howard Roberts and Dale Walker, a SRPNT6 representative. Date: August 6, 2029 [START VIDEO] Agent Roberts: We need those crates. Dale Walker: It's impossible, agent. We already handed over the UNES to your people. Agent Roberts: Excuse me, UNES? Is that another acronym? Dale Walker: Unidentified Extraterrestrial Spaceship. Get with the program. Agent Roberts: Anyways, we need to know what was inside of that ship. Merely having the ship tells us little about its purpose. Dale Walker: No need: its purpose was obvious. It violated our airspace and disregarded numerous warnings to land, therefore making it a hostile alien entity. That's all. Agent Roberts: That's a huge leap to assume it can understand human language. And we can't just assume it was "hostile." Dale Walker: It was headed toward the most populous metropolitan area in our nation at high velocity. Don't be naive. Agent Roberts: Please. "High velocity." It was barely supersonic, and we have hypersonic aircraft. More importantly, did it cause any damage to any infrastructure or assets? Military or civilian. Did it engage anything whatsoever? Dale Walker: That's irrelevant, but no. Nevertheless, its refusal to stand down justified its destruction. We won't compromise our national security to satisfy your hunger to collect alien pet projects. Agent Roberts: We need to be more careful with these matters before we go to war with a technologically superior civilization. That's all I'm saying. Get it through your head. Dale Walker: DARPA7 is in possession of several of the ship's components, including a fully-intact engine. We can reverse-engineer it, harness this technology, and fight back when they return, turning their own weapons against them. I have no doubt that's what your people are doing as well, so spare me the theatrics. Agent Roberts: I'll ask you directly: what was inside of those crates? Dale Walker: Beyond classified. Pending disclosure. Agent Roberts: We have agreements in place, you know this. Not only are you obliged to tell us, ethically and legally, but the Foundation has the means to get whatever we want. Don't play this game. Dale Walker: The Foundation doesn't exist on paper. I cannot disclose information to a non-existent entity, now can I? Besides, what will you do? Force us to tell you? Agent Roberts: You people are so short-sighted. To hell with it. [END VIDEO] Addendum 8202-B/Video Log: Hidden Bodycam Footage captured by Agent Howard Roberts Date: August 9, 2029 [START VIDEO] Agent Roberts: So? Dale Walker: Exotic fruits and vegetables as well as dried meat belonging to an alien species. Agent Roberts: What else? Dale Walker: What appeared to be medical supplies. All the crates were full. Agent Roberts: You idiots. What if the ship was on a diplomatic outreach mission? What if those were medics? That's why you don't just blow them out of the damn sky without an ounce of consideration! Dale Walker: There is no indication that's true. At the same time, perhaps reconnaissance, or establishing a colony was their goal. Food supplies for the crew, that's all. Agent Roberts: Don't you take me for a fool. There were hundreds of those crates, which were unopened. That's way more food than a small crew would need. Dale Walker: Use common sense, Howard. Travel between worlds would take an unfathomable amount of time. Agent Roberts: Listen to yourself. They made it all the way to our world without opening a single crate. It couldn't have been that long. Why aren't you even open to the possibility that this species isn't hellbent on exterminating us? What if this was their way of cross-cultural exchange? Us humans love exchanging food and technology, don't we? Dale Walker: (Long silence.) Your people dissected the alien specimens. What did you discover? Agent Roberts: I'll send you the full autopsy report… Their physiology isn't so different from ours, relatively speaking, including their metabolism. Wherever they came from, it isn't far from here. Or at least, it doesn't take long for them to reach Earth considering their stomachs were almost full. Dale Walker: Experimenting with these creatures has taken a toll on your mind. You're sounding like a sympathizer for the invaders. If the Foundation sides with these otherworldly savages when they arrive, the consequences will be dire for you. Remember that. Agent Roberts: Oh, shut up. Don't even go there. (Pauses.) We discovered something else. You're not being honest with me, or you were deceived. Dale Walker: I sense a rather sinister implication? Agent Roberts: It's not in the file you'll receive. But, our extraterrestrial visitors didn't die from head trauma like the initial report stated; the aliens likely survived the impact. Dale Walker: And? Agent Roberts: Ten gunshot wounds matching 5.56 NATO8. The bullets were extracted and there was a sloppy attempt to make it seem like shrapnel. Judging by the trajectory of the entry wounds and blood samples inside the ship, the crew was shot as they crawled toward the soldiers, completely unarmed. No attempt was made to even rescue them or give them a chance to be interrogated. Mr. Walker, they were murdered in cold blood. Dale Walker: I see… Agent Roberts: I hope so. [END VIDEO] Addendum 8202-C/Video Log: Hidden Bodycam Footage captured by Agent Howard Roberts Date: August 11, 2029 [START VIDEO] Agent Roberts: We breached one of the ship's chambers. It took our network of supercomputers 72 hours to crack the combination, only to discover that it was unique to a single door. Dale Walker: Don't keep me in suspense. Agent Roberts: We discovered… what appear to be torture devices, along with some melee weapons and magnetic restraints. Dale Walker: Ah, no surprise there. And who do you think those devices were intended for? Agent Roberts: They ranged from very sophisticated to anachronistic wooden contraptions. It's senseless to speculate. Perhaps they wanted to torture humans, but it could also be a museum display of sorts. Maybe in the past, they were a violent and barbaric society and wanted to warn humans against following that path? There are millions of possibilities. Dale Walker: You can't be that naive, agent. Agent Roberts: Whatever. So, how did negotiations go? Dale Walker: The Foundation will allow the US military to conduct some tests with the mysterious cylinders so long as DARPA is totally transparent with its findings regarding the other components. Regarding the engine, it was transferred to an undisclosed site near Nevada. [END VIDEO] Addendum 8202-D/Test Log: Test Log: SCP-8202 Context: Three cylindrical devices were retrieved from SCP-8202, which were transferred to a nuclear testing site in the Southwestern United States. Each machine was connected to a node that fed it with a high voltage electrical current. The following log records the results of the experiment, which was meant to determine the objects' function and destructive capability. Cylinder A Result: After the node was triggered, the cylinder glowed brightly, reaching a temperature of 750,000 Celsius before disintegrating. The entire process occurred in 37 milliseconds. Cylinder B Result: The cylinder briefly illuminated before shooting out sparks and deactivating. Attempts to reactivate it were unsuccessful. Cylinder C Result: The cylinder immediately triggered an explosion. A bluish sphere of undetermined energy rapidly expanded from the origin point at a rate of 3 kilometers per second, vaporizing everything in its path for 0.5 seconds. However, no harmful fumes or radiation were produced by the event. 5 people died, including a Foundation field agent. Addendum 8202-E/Video log: Hidden Bodycam Footage captured by Agent Howard Roberts Date: August 19, 2029 [START VIDEO] Dale Walker: Looks like your alien buddies weren't so friendly after all. Agent Roberts: Just because someone has weapons, doesn't mean they intend to use it in an offensive capacity. Self-defense is a thing, you know. Dale Walker: It was headed directly toward a major population center. What a coincidence. If those bombs went off in downtown Manhattan, it could've killed millions. Agent Roberts: If this species had the capability to travel across the stars, wouldn't they have invented missiles or another delivery system? If they wanted to, they'd already have destroyed those F-35s let alone New York. Dale Walker: What if it was a strategic bomber of sorts? Perhaps the alien scum underestimated us. Agent Roberts: It wasn't. Dale Walker: How can you be so sure? Agent Roberts: The Foundation breached the final chambers. It was determined that they were prison cells. Furthermore, our engineers concluded that the ship was not designed to deploy any military payload. We managed to power up the ship's control console and our language AI network decoded their language. The ship has a database of intergalactic criminals and the procedures for capturing or terminating them. There are millions of entries, including some linked to our planet. Dale Walker: What…? Agent Roberts: At worst, if this species has a warmongering military doctrine, what we did constituted a completely preventable act of war. But regardless of the consequences, in all likelihood, we destroyed a prison ship. Dale Walker: See you next time. (Switches off microphone and enters a moment of contemplation.) This isn't on record, but I agree with you. We're handling the situation atrociously. Beyond atrociously. I need your help to avert a crisis that would mark the darkest chapter in human history. Let's meet again, please. [END VIDEO] Addendum 8202-F/Video log: Unofficial Bodycam Footage captured by Agent Howard Roberts Date: Unknown [START VIDEO] (The two men meet in the middle of a dark, underground tunnel, with each scanning their surroundings as they approach.) Agent Roberts: What the fuck is happening? This is getting way out of hand. Dale Walker: Don't be so loud. Agent Roberts: The CIA detained about forty of our agents and researchers. Two facilities in the Midwest were surrounded by a task force of National Guard and US Army soldiers. Were you aware of this? Dale Walker: Yes. Detained, nothing more. The distrust is mutual. No one was killed at least, and we both know your people will be quickly returned. Agent Roberts: The Foundation has legal guarantees from every major institution in the US government and is supposed to operate unimpeded. These are rogue elements completely overstepping their authority. Where's the chain of command? Dale Walker: (Leans in to whisper.) SRPNT. They want to supplant you. Furthermore, they've been discreetly spreading fraudulent reports insinuating some of your personnel are collaborating with hostile alien species under the guise of research. They claim you're contacting the enemy in secret, that's why you won't disclose your operations. Agent Roberts: That's ridiculous. Dale Walker: Obviously. I hate to admit it, but you were right. Agent Roberts: The signal? Dale Walker: Yes, we decoded it. However, SRPNT's High Command wiped all digital traces of the alien transmission. This paper is the only existing copy. (He hands a sheet to Roberts.) Agent Roberts: (Reading silently.) Damn it. We suspected this all along… But those bastards couldn't help themselves, could they? Dale Walker: I know, I know. Unfortunately, it gets worse. Agent Roberts: How could it possibly get worse? Dale Walker: Did you bring the photos we discussed? Agent Roberts: Yes, these are the off-world fugitives corresponding to Earth. (Hands Walker a large file.) Dale Walker: There are hundreds of them… (Perusing through the papers.) Agent Roberts: Damn right. Hiding somewhere here. Dale Walker: I know where. Look. (Gives Roberts a collection of small photos.) Agent Roberts: How the hell did you get your hands on this? Have you been spying on us? Dale Walker: Yes, but that's now how I acquired these photos. Ah, here it is. (Shows Roberts one of the pages from the file.) Look familiar? Compare it to the photo in your hand. Agent Roberts: Yeah, it's a perfect match to Subject 56773… So? Dale Walker: If I ever return to SRPNT, I'll be detained without question and convicted of treason for showing you this. I'm requesting that the Foundation can grant me protection. Agent Roberts: Not a guarantee, but I'll see what I can do. Dale Walker: Very well. Those photos were captured from CCTV cameras within SRPNT's headquarters. There have been several incidents like this, but no one knows outside of the organization. That photo you're holding: that's the head of SRPNT. He's using a device coated in an adaptive nanomaterial to transform his appearance, making him seem human. Agent Roberts: SRPNT is headed by a fucking space fugitive? That explains everything… The entire bureaucracy must be infested with them. Dale Walker: Precisely. That's what I suspect. It's been compromised from within. Agent Roberts: We have a lot of work to do… First, let's get out of here. Follow me. [END VIDEO] Addendum 8202-G/Initial Signal Translation: “We come (in peace), with no desire for warfare. But we shall return what we receive. We (have lowered) our [forcefield] and other defensive countermeasures (so that we may be easily detected). We request a collaboration with the forces of Earth to locate dangerous fugitives that are [hiding on your world]. They pose a considerable risk to your kind, and our officers in this galactic sector are spread thinly. A surgical extraction is preferable to the more destructive methods our species could utilize. These criminals do not need to be captured alive (if retrieval proves too difficult). We shall await a response from your leaders.” Footnotes 1. SCP-8202 bypassed all satellite networks and early-warning systems. 2. North American Aerospace Defense Command. 3. A stealth combat aircraft. 4. The first combat deployment of the experimental AIM-909 Siphon. 5. Elite paratroopers belonging to the US Army 77th Airmobile Infantry Brigade. 6. Security Relations Partnership against Nationwide Threats. A newly-formed agency that mediates interactions between US government entities and the Foundation. 7. Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. 8. A common firearm cartridge used by many nations worldwide, including the US. |
SCP-8209 | neutralized | Item#: 8209 Level1 Secondary Class: ticonderoga Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-8209 solely impacts individuals already behind the Veil, no incremental containment procedures are necessary. Description: SCP-8209 is an anomalous phenomenon, commencing on January 16, 2021, in which individuals capable of reincarnation uniformly experience a deep sense of bliss upon returning to life. Additional information is available to individuals with 5/8209 clearance. Credentials accepted. Item#: 8209 Level5 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: As of January 16, 2021, no mechanism remains by which the legal code of Habakkuk_2, North Dakota might be manipulated to produce anomalous results. As such, SCP-8209 is considered neutralized. Archived Special Containment Procedures (active Dec 2020): Residents of Habakkuk, North Dakota have been told that, due to a legal technicality stemming from a quirk in the town charter, Habakkuk is technically blocked from obtaining state aid for its school district. To resolve the issue, they have been told, a new town is being established under the same name and legal code and with essentially identical boundaries. Because of the onerous paperwork associated with dissolving a municipality, the former town is to be renamed Habakkuk_2 and its limits redefined to solely encompass 100 square yards of brownfield in the town’s outlying woodlands. In fact, the above measures are being undertaken to limit SCP-8209’s area of effect and permit complete Foundation control over the drafting of municipal laws to which SCP-8209 is subject. After a new town charter is obtained for Habakkuk, the former Habakkuk Municipal Code, now re-titled the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code, is to be rewritten to reduce the number of seats on the Habakkuk_2 City Council from 12 to 3. To ensure that the Foundation holds voting control over the Habakkuk_2 City Council, the only three individuals permitted to officially reside in Habakkuk_2 are Drs. Oded Shimoni, Ghulam Hazrat, and Courtney Spangler. Snap elections will be held for all city council seats due to the loss of Habakkuk_2 residency of all prior members of the city council following the change in town boundaries; after these snap elections, the roster of members of the Habakkuk_2 City Council will consist of Drs. Oded Shimoni, Ghulam Hazrat, and Courtney Spangler, with Oded Shimoni holding the chairmanship. After the Habakkuk_2 City Council is elected, tests will be held to ensure the continuing efficacy of SCP-8209, identify its limits, and test its practicability for assisting in containment of other anomalies. If successful, SCP-8209 may be utilized to help discipline humanoid anomalies. Description: SCP-8209 was an anomalous phenomenon that caused any individual who violated a city law of Habakkuk, North Dakota to instantaneously and subjectively experience the maximal punishment prescribed by the relevant law. Individuals subject to this effect would forget their experience immediately after its completion, though psychological impacts typically remained. Discovery: Although precise identification of the SCP-8209 anomaly’s relationship with the Habakkuk Municipal Code required several months of clandestine testing, the initial anomaly was flagged when, at a Great Plains-spanning psychiatry conference, one attendee mentioned to a Foundation operative that many of her patients suffer a “brief, deep sense of loss” whenever they drive through Habakkuk. (As the portion of the freeway that passes through Habakkuk is a known speed trap, and the Habakkuk Municipal Code technically permits temporary confinement as a punishment for speeding, these individuals are presumed to have instantaneously suffered the subjective effect of being fined and briefly imprisoned.) Addendum: Testing logs, as well as relevant project team discussions and write-ups of the minutes of city council meetings, are presented below. Due to their significance in provoking Incident 01.16, which led directly to the neutralization of SCP-8209, communications between Dr. Shimoni, Director Ahe Kahele, Rabbi Issachar Levy, and / or unnamed HR personnel are presented contemporaneously.1 December 12 Testing: TESTING LOG Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $1,001 upon it, atop a table and instructs D-14328 to ‘steal’ it. (Stealing a debit card with $1,001 or more upon it is a Class C felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of five years in prison and a $10,000 fine; state and federal law is explicitly grandfathered into the Habakkuk Municipal Code.) D-14328 complies. Immediately upon picking up the card, D-14328 drops the card, stares into space, and begins weeping. Five minutes later, once D-14328 has composed himself, he is asked if he knows why he was weeping. He says that he does not. Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $10,001 upon it, atop a table and suggests that D-14328 ‘steal’ it. (Stealing a debit card with $10,001 or more upon it is a Class B felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of ten years in prison and a $20,000 fine.) Immediately upon picking up the card, D-14328 collapses upon the ground and is either unwilling or unable to communicate for the following ten minutes. When addressed with his D-number, he reacts with confusion. Director Ahe Kahele (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Not sure if you read the logs from this morning yet I think we have the data we need, don't you think? Just run the tests, Oded. I've got enough paperwork to do already. Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $50,001 upon it, atop a table and suggests that D-14328 ‘steal’ it. (Stealing a debit card with $50,001 or more upon it is a Class A felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of twenty years in prison and a $20,000 fine.) D-14328 has not resumed speaking, but shakes his head and refuses to approach the debit card. Director Ahe Kahele (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) He won't approach the card. Tell him we'll terminate him if he doesn't. With respect, Director, there's a serious problem with that. If I had a nickel for all of your serious problems, I wouldn't need a pension. That would be illegal under the Habakkuk Municipal Code. I'm not going to do that, or I'd be too traumatized to write a half-decent log. That’s why I’ve been ‘suggesting’ that he take the cards, instead of instructing him outright. How do you put italics in your texts? Tell me later; that’s not important. Look, I’m not going to have one of my top people outwitted by any D-class, much less a nonverbal one. He wasn’t nonverbal yesterday. Or this morning. And last night it was dark; but the sun’s out now, isn’t it? Looks like Habakkuk’s municipal boundaries are exactly demarcated by a little dirt road a half-mile or so from where you’re standing. Check that, of course, but if you take him there, you can stand outside Habakkuk and have him cross that road to take the card. You’re outside, he’s inside. Clean test. Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $50,001 upon it, atop a table, crosses the dirt road, and instructs D-14328 to ‘steal’ it, upon pain of termination. (Stealing a debit card with $50,001 or more upon it is a Class A felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of twenty years in prison and a $20,000 fine.) D-14328 picks up the card and collapses to the ground, assuming an expression that Shimoni described as ‘hollow.’ Shimoni crosses the road to help him up. Upon being helped up, D-14328 begins walking in an awkward circle, having apparently developed a slight limp (presumably due to a lack of exercise in his past 20 subjective years of life.) After thirty seconds, he focuses his gaze on Dr. Shimoni and charges at him, apparently intending to seize his sidearm. Shimoni and D-14328 topple to the earth; however, immediately upon making contact with Dr. Shimoni, D-14328 goes limp and begins weeping uncontrollably. On the assumption that he ideated a desire to kill Dr. Shimoni during his twenty years of subjective imprisonment, he is presumed to have technically committed a premeditated act of attempted murder, which carries a potential life sentence under North Dakota law. Actuarial analysis suggests that he experienced approximately forty years of imprisonment, followed by subjective death. Director Ahe Kahele (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Done. Shoot, you turned that log around quickly. I hope he didn’t mess you up too badly; are you all right? He gave up immediately upon making contact. Pretty terrifying, but I’ve gotten torn up worse in rugby. But I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more broken person in my life. Don’t give it too much concern. A lot of project teams just need warm bodies, for chemicals testing or whatnot. Also, no idea what they actually do, but the 3000 team is always on the hunt for D-class, and the only requirements they have is that the person be physically alive and not brain-dead. I think your boy will still fit the bill. I can't say my primary concern was about the potential for inconvenience. Right. I know it gives you the warm fuzzies to go to bat for these people. But the only reason they’re not boiling forever in the void between universes is because we’re so damn good at containing things. If we focus too much on the costs, we get myopic. We get cold feet. And we can’t afford that. So when you hold stuff up, you’re not helping the world; you’re just helping yourself feel better about your place in it. And frankly, Oded, that’s a selfish act. We’ve had this conversation before, and I don’t want to start an argument about it. What resolve! Get some sleep. We’re bringing you your next test subject in the morning. Also a few guards; we want to ensure your safety if this happens again. You want the same tests run? Never mind what I want; but that is what the specs say. The ones that got approved. You don’t think we can declare an end to initial testing? Oded, you wrote those specs yourself. December 13 Testing: The write-up of December 13 testing is omitted for purposes of brevity, being too similar to December 12 testing to justify inclusion. For access, please contact Director Kahele’s office. Results from December 12 and December 13 testing were sufficiently convincing to provoke the establishment of a new town charter (‘New Habakkuk’, formally Habakkuk); the renaming of ‘old Habakkuk’ to Habakkuk_2 and the restriction of its town limits to a single patch of field with 3 ‘inhabitants’; and the ‘election’ of Dr. Shimoni, as well as Drs. Ghulam Hazrat and Courtney Spangler, to the Habakkuk_2 City Council. In the interests of urgency and to prevent disproportionate resource usage, the Foundation Legal Department declined to perform a full rewrite of the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code; however, the explicit grandfathering-in of federal and state law was eliminated, to prevent any body besides the Habakkuk_2 City Council from influencing the legal code that governs SCP-8209. The above processes were performed between December 16 and December 28, 2020, during which time all SCP-8209 testing was suspended. During this time, Dr. Shimoni sought out spiritual support from Rabbi Issachar Levy, a chaplain at Site-19. Rabbi Issachar Levy (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Shalom! I know we haven’t really spoken, but my name’s Oded. I’m based out of Site-48, and I could really use a little advice. Sure thing! What can I help you with? It’s going to sound a little bit silly. I don’t think I’m an especially good Jew. Or a good person, more generally. Well, Oded, it won’t surprise you to learn that that’s a discussion I have extremely frequently. The truth is that it’s a little bit easier for us than for others. For members of religions that teach that people are saved by grace, by faith, then the things that we’re exposed to every day can really test their relationship with their religion. Because once you lose your faith, it’s hard to find it again. As for us, we have a list of mitzvot that demand concrete satisfaction; we have obligations that we owe to ourselves and to others, obligations that Hashem commands us to fulfill. For the kabbalists, those mitzvot facilitate the reunion of the Shechinah with the Tiferet. And for the rest of us, they’re simply our purest mode of prayer. You don’t need to actively seek your faith again; if you’ve lost it, it’ll come back. For us, what you are is what you do. I mean, that’s very sweet. But the things I do are exactly what I’m concerned about. Can you tell me more about the acts you refer to as ‘the things you do’? It’s nothing I’d really like to get into. So what do you want to talk about? I guess I’d like to know what G-d thinks of me, as I am. You are fully and entirely the recipient of Hashem’s infinite love, as is all mankind. You know what I meant. Wow. I very much cannot speak to that. Try your best. Have you considered speaking with a therapist as well? I have. But I’d like to finish this first. In that case, I think we’ll have to talk a little bit more about what you call ‘the things you do.’ The good news is that Yom Kippur is in September this year. Redemption for sins against Hashem is freely granted upon repentance. Sins against man? You do not let up. Can’t say I’m used to drawing a flowchart on this. Any odds of getting an apology accepted by those you hurt? Quite low. Two of them are completely non-communicative as a result of what I did to them, and that’s just from this week. A critical mass of sages would probably consider that non-ideal. Gehenna non-ideal? Some sages say that a lot of people spend a short time in Gehenna. I guess they’d say the same about you, but, again, it is not something I or anyone living can tell you for sure. Fun. Maybe that’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to be forgiven too easily. That said, Oded, the afterlife is not a core focus of our tradition, and the idea of any Jew being driven by fear of hellfire is a little repugnant. It sounds like you just want someone to tell you that you deserve to be punished. You’re probably right. I carry a lot of guilt with me, and every once in a while it reminds me it’s there. I’ll just be sitting down and then it’ll hit me. If you’re trying to get closer to your faith, I’d love to have a longer conversation about getting involved with Jewish life at the Foundation. Obviously, we hold regular services at Site-19, and you’re free to join virtually. You can always opt into kosher fare if you decide that’s something you’re interested in, too. We can also add you to the list for Passover-safe rations, send over a home Shabbat kit, put you on the challah list, and / or ensure that you’re adequately supplied with ritual items; apples and honey on Rosh Hashanah, even a little plastic grogger on Purim. If you’re not in the mezuzah program already, I can get one to you for installation. Since Site-48 doesn’t have a Jewish chaplain, I’m authorized to cover your transit to and from Site-19 for seder, as well as a one-day trip during Sukkot to shake the lulav. But you seem more concerned with incorporating Jewish values into your nine-to-five directly. Well, yes, because that’s the part of my day during which I break people’s minds. Honestly, you know and I know that keeping your hands clean here is impossible. But there’s a lovely quote from Pirkei Avot: you are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it. Keep looking out for the folks under you, D-Class included, as much as you can. And if you’re ever on a project that you consider completely irredeemable, it might be a career hit, but you can often transfer out. And just remember- you are loved, you and everyone else still have a share of the World to Come, and you remain both completely able to do good and utterly bound to do so. That’s kind of a pat answer, don’t you think? Frankly, Oded, if you want to self-flagellate, that’s your right as an American. But you don’t obtain redemption through suffering. You obtain it through repentance. You obtain it through repairing the world. To: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) From: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) Subject: Rotation request Dear Director Kahele, I trust that this email finds you well. I’m reaching out to formally request a rotation off of the SCP-8209 project team. SCP-8209 is nothing short of subjective torture, and I’m deeply uncomfortable at the prospect of more rounds of testing of an effect that I’m fairly confident that we understand. In truth, I’m also disturbed by the prospect that SCP-8209 will ultimately be used to ‘discipline’ humanoid anomalies. Usage of SCP-8209 for disciplinary purposes is as flagrantly unethical as the use of a stockade or of an electric collar; if its mechanisms of pain were not invisible, the obscenity of its deployment would be obvious to all. In sum, working for the SCP-8209 project team is utterly irreconcilable with my moral and spiritual commitments, and I would like to leave as soon as is practicable. All the best, Dr. Oded Shimoni To: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: Re: Rotation request Oded, I hope that email felt good to write. Unfortunately, that’s not a request that we can accommodate. My understanding is that the Habakkuk_2 City Council is legally mandated to meet January 1, with follow-up testing planned. I eagerly await your findings. Ahe First Council Meeting and Subsequent Testing (January 1): TRANSCRIPT Councilmembers Dr. Oded Shimoni, Dr. Ghulam Hazrat, and Dr. Courtney Spangler enter the Interim City Council Chambers, defined as a 100-square-foot plot at the center of Habakkuk_2. SHIMONI: I call this meeting of the Habakkuk_2 City Council to order. We have reached quorum. Courtney, could you talk me through what we’re approving today? SPANGLER: The long and short of it is that we don’t know how, if at all, death is experienced within SCP-8209; that is, whether a punishment that would be fatal in the real world is experienced as such. If people experience a loss of sensation at the moment of subjective death, then two identically fatal punishments would be expected to have identical responses. If they don’t- if they keep experiencing even beyond the typical point of death- then it might vary. SHIMONI: Does the second one have to be quite so long? Like, wouldn’t we be able to tell the difference between two minutes and an hour? SPANGLER: I suppose we would. But people can have very different responses, so the difference in duration would have to be so immense that it would overpower any plausible difference in reaction to the same duration. SHIMONI: Can we put it at just a day, then? I really just don’t see why we’d need to do three months. SPANGLER: Sure; for the chairman, anything. HAZRAT: All right, let me annotate my copy real quick. Oded, would this language work for you? SHIMONI: Yeah, fine. HAZRAT: Courtney? SPANGLER: Works for me as well. SHIMONI: We will now vote on Councilman Spangler’s legislation. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay.’ Aye. HAZRAT: Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. SHIMONI: Carried. Not sure we’re following Robert’s Rules exactly, but it seems like the old city council didn’t either. HAZRAT: By the way, Oded, I have a really strange testing idea that I haven’t fully written up the enabling legislation for. But I don’t want to wait until February 1. Is there some route to hold a special session? Because I can draft it right here, but I’d rather not keep everyone in for an hour while I finalize it and get permissions. SHIMONI: Yeah, no problem. I think I saw something in the rules about this. One second… okay, here it is. As I have the backing of one third or more of the Habakkuk_2 City Council and am the Chairman of the Habakkuk_2 City Council, I invoke my right under municipal law to schedule a special city council session with one or more days of notice. Ghulam, when works for you? HAZRAT: Do we want to go with noon on the 13th? I’ll send the draft over next week; you’ll see why I’m so excited. SPANGLER: Works for me. SHIMONI: Yeah, works for me as well. Okay, I schedule the city council session to be held at 12:00 PM on January 13th. I move that we adjourn the city council session. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. HAZRAT: Nay. What? I like y’all’s company so much. SPANGLER: What a sweetie. SHIMONI: Carried. Okay, let's get some lunch. In the January 1 city council session, the following sentences were added to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code: Consumption of one jelly bean within Habakkuk_2 is punishable by full submersion in water for one hundred and twenty seconds. Consumption of more than five jelly beans within Habakkuk_2, within a two-minute period, is punishable by full submersion in water for twenty-four hours. TESTING LOG D-28416 consumed one jellybean and immediately collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. She then lost consciousness for a period of approximately five seconds, presumably due to her high level of stress. Upon coming to, she had no explanation for her prior behavior; however, her voice has remained raspy, for reasons believed to be psychosomatic. [A portion of this testing log has been excised at the request of Director Kahele.] No interview is likely to be completed for D-32181, as she has not yet emerged from her coma and is unlikely to maintain verbal or communicative capacity. Surgeries are continuing, and are expected to partially mitigate self-inflicted damage sustained to her eyes, throat, and hands after jelly bean consumption. POST-TESTING COMMENTARY SPANGLER: Big day for this project. We are essentially unbound by the limits of the human body. I genuinely don’t know of any other tool at the Foundation’s disposal with this kind of flexibility. HAZRAT: For me, the cool part is that we get to use this for modeling. If we want to know the psychic implications of entering a weird portal, we can just say, hey, if you watch more than fifty frames of Mary Poppins, you will be punished by entering this weird portal. SPANGLER: Do we know for sure that SCP-8209 can force a brain to subjectively experience something it can’t reliably simulate? HAZRAT: No; I think at some point, we should write a law that says something like “if you blankety-blank, you will be punished with whatever’s written on the piece of paper in the large, velvet hat.” And the piece of paper says something like “you will be forced to receive $10,000” or something, but the D-Class won’t know that. So then, if their reactions are uniformly positive despite having no way to reliably simulate their experience in advance, we'll know that we're dealing with a predictive tool. SPANGLER: Also, the more I think about it, those D-Class didn’t know about the laws we just passed, but they obviously still were impacted. So my guess is that your bill would work. Is that what we’re passing on the 13th? HAZRAT: No. No, the legislation I’m writing is going to blow your socks off. SPANGLER: Excited. By the way, Oded, are you good? You’ve been pretty quiet. SHIMONI: Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. HAZRAT: Poor guy probably ate a jelly bean. To: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) From: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) Subject: Notification of upcoming departure Dear Director Kahele, Sorry to trouble you on a Friday evening. I’m reaching out to give my two weeks’ notice; my last day will be January 15. It has become clear that my work at the SCP Foundation is ethically untenable. I know that we have a second city council meeting scheduled on January 13; at that meeting, I intend to resign my seat on the city council, with my resignation taking effect within a few days. This will give you a few days to select a replacement and have them become a ‘resident’ of Habakkuk_2 in time to run in the ‘special election.’ I consider my time at the Foundation to have been the most fascinating and enlightening experience of my life thus far, and I am deeply grateful to you and the rest of the Site-48 team. Though I know I’ll be amnesticized upon my exit, I hope to remember these years as a happy, wistful mystery; and, though I cannot ask any of you to ‘stay in touch,’ I do hope that you’ll remember me with fondness as well. All the best, Oded [RECORD PURGED] (Sender: Director Ahe Kahele) Good morning! This is Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele. During my orientation, I was told to reach out to you if, and only if, I had an employee who intended to quit their job at the Foundation because they considered their work to be in violation of their moral or religious beliefs. I'm reaching out about Dr. Oded Shimoni. Please let me know what information to send over. Good morning, Director Kahele. We already have all the information we need. That's a little disconcerting, but appreciated. Ah, he showed you how to use italics. That's less appreciated. To: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: Re: Notification of upcoming departure Oded, We'll be sorry to see you go. Just to check the box, you’ll be having an exit interview with an HR liaison from Site-19 on January 15. I’ve taken the liberty of putting a 1-hour block on your calendar that day. Happy trails. Ahe Second Council Meeting and Subsequent Testing (January 13): TRANSCRIPT Councilmembers Dr. Oded Shimoni, Dr. Ghulam Hazrat, and Dr. Courtney Spangler enter the Interim City Council Chambers, defined as a 100-square-foot plot at the center of Habakkuk_2. SHIMONI: I call this meeting of the Habakkuk_2 City Council to order. We have reached quorum. Ghulam, I know you requisitioned a D-Class in advance of this meeting; what I don’t know is why he’s still in Fargo. HAZRAT: You didn’t read the legislation? SPANGLER: I didn't either, truthfully. SHIMONI: It's been a busy week. HAZRAT: It's one sentence and the writeup is two pages. But it's fine, I can talk through it. HAZRAT: So it occurred to me, we keep writing bills that apply within Habakkuk_2, right? SPANGLER: Municipal laws are almost tautologically written to apply within their relevant municipality, no? HAZRAT: Sure. You know that. I know that. I was just thinking, what if nobody told the anomaly? SHIMONI (reading the document): Oh. This could be a real normalcy risk. We de facto create a new anomaly: from now on, if this works, then if anyone satisfies this fact pattern, anywhere, they’ll whisk themselves behind the Veil. SPANGLER: I don’t think that’ll be a problem; I don’t imagine that anyone’s ever satisfied this fact pattern before, or that they ever will again. For hygiene purposes, though, Ghulam, would you be willing to repeal this at the next meeting? HAZRAT: Yes, if I’m still on the city council. I figure that, once I win the Foundation Star for this, I’m not sure I’ll keep being able to get away for these meetings. SHIMONI: Too busy with the O5's? HAZRAT: Yeah, and signing autographs. SHIMONI: On the topic of turnover, though, we do need to talk about the elephant in the room. HAZRAT: Urgh. SHIMONI: Courtney, I’m giving you the chairmanship when I depart; the language you’ll be using to call the special election should be in Section 3 of the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code. You need to call it within ten days of my departure, and hold it within three weeks. I know Ahe is going to want some time to find a new person, so just let me know what day you want my resignation to be effective upon. SPANGLER: I’ve got a pretty busy week and a half coming up, and I know quorum is all-but-two, so I’m not too worried about needing a third person going into the February 1 meeting. Want to make your resignation effective on Jan 20? SHIMONI: Yeah, works. I officially announce my resignation, effective on January 20 at 12:00 PM. Upon my resignation, Councilwoman Spangler will assume the chairpersonship of the Habakkuk_2 City Council. SPANGLER: That's all it takes? SHIMONI: That's all it takes. SPANGLER: We're going to miss you. SHIMONI: Appreciate it. Can’t say it’s mutual, since I’ll be amnesticized to hell, but I have enjoyed working with you both. HAZRAT: That’s flat-out depressing, but before the person you are now enters oblivion, let’s pass this bill, all right? SHIMONI: No edits from me. We will now vote on Councilman Hazrat’s legislation. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. HAZRAT: Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. SHIMONI: Carried. I move that we adjourn the special city council session. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. HAZRAT: Aye. SHIMONI: Carried. Ghulam, let’s see what your man in Fargo can do. In the January 13 special city council session, the following sentences were added to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code: Globally, watching any set of fifty frames from Disney cartoon ‘Steamboat Willie,’ consuming more than two ounces of meat from a sheep’s head, intentionally imitating a chicken, and urinating directly into a conch shell within a single sixty-second period is punishable by being told the funniest joke that you’ve ever heard. TESTING LOG In Fargo, North Dakota, while a 60-second timer runs, D-43222 rapidly consumes several mouthfuls of meat from a sheep’s head as a six-second block of ‘Steamboat Willie’ plays. After chewing and swallowing the final mouthful, he hurriedly makes ‘bawk-bawk’ noises, retrieves a conch shell from a nearby table, and looks around for the bathroom. Finding none, and with ten seconds remaining on the clock, he drops his pants and underwear and urinates into the conch, with the contents spilling onto the testing-room floor. Immediately, he begins laughing uproariously for eleven seconds, stops, looks around confusedly, hurriedly drops the conch, and pulls his pants and underwear back up. POST-TESTING COMMENTARY SHIMONI: I no longer believe that this particular law has the capacity to be a threat to normalcy. HAZRAT: We could just end murder, right? It’d take some fiddling around with, but doesn’t this mean that we could basically end murder in an instant? SPANGLER: Oded, not complaining, but it’s insane that you’re handing over this project. SHIMONI: It's going to be a whole new world. FIRE SUPPRESSION DEPARTMENT - CLASSIFIED The following information is restricted to FSD Internal Affairs. Unauthorized access is strictly forbidden. If you have accessed this section without authorization, close your session now and remain where you are. We know how to find you. Incident ZBDA34 : Dr. Oded Shimoni, Transcript of Interview (15 Jan 2021) SHIMONI: I don’t want to get too in the weeds on this. The truth is, I just get tired of hurting people. I had a really good conversation with a chaplain from Site-19… well, I don’t know if he’d describe it that way, but I found it helpful. SHIMONI: I’m not arrogant enough to think that my leaving will make anything better for anyone. Honestly, Director Kahele might be right; it might be a little bit selfish. But I’ve made my peace with that. SHIMONI: I’ve spent years dragging my soul through the mud, and I don’t want to do it anymore. [RECORD PURGED]: Tell me more about this conversation. SHIMONI: Well, I hopped on the line and I just wore this poor guy down until he said, hey, Oded, you’re probably going to Gehenna. [RECORD PURGED]: Apologies, but what’s Gehenna? SHIMONI: It’s like purgatory, but worse. Judaism doesn’t really have hell, but it’s a place you’re purified before you enter the World to Come, and it’s not a pleasant place. But that’s only half the point. I realized that if I looked at my life with clarity, no rationalization, not pulling any punches, I was just so far from what I believed in, and this struck me as the only way back home. [RECORD PURGED]: Understood. And you genuinely, literally believe in such a place? SHIMONI: I- I suppose that I do. [RECORD PURGED]: Hmm. SHIMONI: But, to tell you the truth, I don’t see what the point of that question was. [RECORD PURGED]: I don’t want to get off track. I was just surprised. SHIMONI: With respect, I’m quite used to having my beliefs belittled, and I’d rather not continue that on my way out the door. [RECORD PURGED]: Clearly the question went over poorly. I wasn’t trying to mock you- it just reminded me of something. SHIMONI: Got it. I’m sorry if I overreacted. [RECORD PURGED]: No, you’re clearly defensive for a reason. I’m very sorry that you haven’t been heard out in the past, and I’ll make sure that goes in the exit report.2 SHIMONI: I appreciate that. And, again, very sorry for biting your head off. [RECORD PURGED]: All that afterlife talk… well, it just took me back to my Tactical Theology days a little bit, you know? Almost nostalgic. SHIMONI: That’s a really cool department. You did afterlife research? [RECORD PURGED]: I did! SHIMONI: Well, we’ve got a lot left of this hour, and I don’t have all that much left to say. So what did I… what did I accidentally remind you of? [RECORD PURGED]: Just something from a previous project. I really shouldn’t be bringing it up. SHIMONI: Over my clearance level? [RECORD PURGED]: Not technically, no. SHIMONI: Should I make some popcorn? [RECORD PURGED]: It really, really isn’t like that. It’s not an infohazard or anything, but it’s a bad thing to know. SHIMONI: You’ve gotten me curious. [RECORD PURGED]: It’s hard to tell a scientist this, but you should stop being curious. It’s the kind of thing that you only think that you want to see. SHIMONI: Now, I’m not too good at puppy eyes, but… [RECORD PURGED]: You'd forget it tomorrow anyway. SHIMONI (laughing): So tell me now! [RECORD PURGED]: You really don't want to read this. SHIMONI: Can I be the judge of that? [RECORD PURGED]: Fine. Fine. Let me pull it up. [RECORD PURGED] produces and hands Dr. Oded Shimoni the write-up for SCP-6130. Approximately a minute and a half of silence follows. SHIMONI (softly): Everyone? [RECORD PURGED]: Forever. SHIMONI: But I'm Jewish. I don't even believe in Hell. [RECORD PURGED]: If I don't believe in oceans, what does that change? SHIMONI: Oh my God. (Heavy breathing.) SHIMONI: Ho Feng-Shan? [RECORD PURGED]: Yes. SHIMONI: I don't know. I don't know. Lincoln? [RECORD PURGED]: Yes. SHIMONI: My little brother. [RECORD PURGED]: Trust me, I took it hard, too. (Shimoni walks over to the closet and grabs a small box, opening it to reveal a small array of trays filled with pills. He dumps some at random in his hand.) [RECORD PURGED]: What the hell are you about to take? SHIMONI: Amnestics. Want some? [RECORD PURGED]: There’s no way you can find the right dose that quickly. SHIMONI: I don’t care if this shit takes me back to kindergarten. [RECORD PURGED]: You should care. Your time here is important. SHIMONI: What? [RECORD PURGED]: Think about it, Doctor. It's the only time you or anyone else is ever allowed to be happy. (Shimoni sighs and dumps the pills into the box.) SHIMONI: I'm being a coward. [RECORD PURGED]: I'm so, so sorry. SHIMONI: Don't be. I forced your hand. [RECORD PURGED]: Well, maybe. But I think that there’s a part of me that wanted to show you. I’ve just kept it a secret for so long. SHIMONI: God. [RECORD PURGED]: It’s been a hard few decades. You’ve got a hard few decades ahead of you. SHIMONI: And a harder eternity. [RECORD PURGED]: Well, that you're not alone in. SHIMONI: Will I be able to see my family down there? [RECORD PURGED]: I don't know. All I know is what's on that sheet I showed you. SHIMONI: I might need to be alone for a while. [RECORD PURGED]: I understand. SHIMONI: Right. Before you leave, though. I guess… I guess I'd like to retract my resignation, if that's an option. [RECORD PURGED]: Are you sure? It'd be great to have you back, but… SHIMONI: Yes. I think I can do some good here. Whatever that makes of me. [RECORD PURGED]: All right. Welcome back, Doctor. (Shimoni forces a smile.) INCIDENT ZBDA34 is considered RESOLVED. Rabbi Issachar Levy (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Hey, it’s Friday night, so I know it’s going to be a while before you see this. I don’t think I’m making it to Yom Kippur. But I’ve got good news and bad news. I can't tell you the bad news. The good news is that I'm repairing the world. Third Council Meeting (January 16): TRANSCRIPT Councilmember Dr. Oded Shimoni enters the Interim City Council Chambers, defined as a 100-square-foot plot at the center of Habakkuk_2. SHIMONI: It is 11:59 PM on January 15. As I have the backing of one third or more of the Habakkuk_2 City Council and am the Chairman of the Habakkuk_2 City Council, I invoke my right under municipal law to schedule a special city council session with one day or more of notice. I schedule the special city council session to be held at 12:01 AM on January 16. (Shimoni checks his watch, waits, and checks his watch again.) SHIMONI: It is now 12:01 on January 16. I call this meeting of the Habakkuk_2 City Council to order. The quorum requirements for special city council sessions require that no more than two members of the Habakkuk_2 City Council be absent. Exactly two members of the Habakkuk_2 City Council are absent. We have reached quorum. SHIMONI: We will now vote on Councilman Shimoni's legislation. All in favor, say 'Aye'; all opposed, say 'Nay.' Aye. Carried. SHIMONI: I move that we adjourn the special city council session. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. Carried. (Shimoni withdraws his sidearm from his belt and shoots himself under the chin.) In the January 16 special city council session, the following sentences were added to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code: All clauses within the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code that provide for criminal penalties for any action, actions, or states of being, and were passed on or before January 15, 2021, are henceforth null and void. As of 12:05 AM on January 16, 2021, neither the Habakkuk_2 City Council, nor any citizen of Habakkuk_2, nor any other body, is authorized to make any changes to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code. The act of death is universally criminal, punishable by ten thousand years in paradise, renewable at will. Footnotes 1. We understand that the publication of communications between Dr. Shimoni and Rabbi Levy may make readers concerned about the confidentiality of discussions with site chaplains. There is no reason to be concerned. 2. The Fire Suppression Department does not file exit reports. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8209" by habaniah, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8209. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8209 | ticonderoga | Item#: 8209 Level1 Secondary Class: ticonderoga Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-8209 solely impacts individuals already behind the Veil, no incremental containment procedures are necessary. Description: SCP-8209 is an anomalous phenomenon, commencing on January 16, 2021, in which individuals capable of reincarnation uniformly experience a deep sense of bliss upon returning to life. Additional information is available to individuals with 5/8209 clearance. Credentials accepted. Item#: 8209 Level5 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: As of January 16, 2021, no mechanism remains by which the legal code of Habakkuk_2, North Dakota might be manipulated to produce anomalous results. As such, SCP-8209 is considered neutralized. Archived Special Containment Procedures (active Dec 2020): Residents of Habakkuk, North Dakota have been told that, due to a legal technicality stemming from a quirk in the town charter, Habakkuk is technically blocked from obtaining state aid for its school district. To resolve the issue, they have been told, a new town is being established under the same name and legal code and with essentially identical boundaries. Because of the onerous paperwork associated with dissolving a municipality, the former town is to be renamed Habakkuk_2 and its limits redefined to solely encompass 100 square yards of brownfield in the town’s outlying woodlands. In fact, the above measures are being undertaken to limit SCP-8209’s area of effect and permit complete Foundation control over the drafting of municipal laws to which SCP-8209 is subject. After a new town charter is obtained for Habakkuk, the former Habakkuk Municipal Code, now re-titled the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code, is to be rewritten to reduce the number of seats on the Habakkuk_2 City Council from 12 to 3. To ensure that the Foundation holds voting control over the Habakkuk_2 City Council, the only three individuals permitted to officially reside in Habakkuk_2 are Drs. Oded Shimoni, Ghulam Hazrat, and Courtney Spangler. Snap elections will be held for all city council seats due to the loss of Habakkuk_2 residency of all prior members of the city council following the change in town boundaries; after these snap elections, the roster of members of the Habakkuk_2 City Council will consist of Drs. Oded Shimoni, Ghulam Hazrat, and Courtney Spangler, with Oded Shimoni holding the chairmanship. After the Habakkuk_2 City Council is elected, tests will be held to ensure the continuing efficacy of SCP-8209, identify its limits, and test its practicability for assisting in containment of other anomalies. If successful, SCP-8209 may be utilized to help discipline humanoid anomalies. Description: SCP-8209 was an anomalous phenomenon that caused any individual who violated a city law of Habakkuk, North Dakota to instantaneously and subjectively experience the maximal punishment prescribed by the relevant law. Individuals subject to this effect would forget their experience immediately after its completion, though psychological impacts typically remained. Discovery: Although precise identification of the SCP-8209 anomaly’s relationship with the Habakkuk Municipal Code required several months of clandestine testing, the initial anomaly was flagged when, at a Great Plains-spanning psychiatry conference, one attendee mentioned to a Foundation operative that many of her patients suffer a “brief, deep sense of loss” whenever they drive through Habakkuk. (As the portion of the freeway that passes through Habakkuk is a known speed trap, and the Habakkuk Municipal Code technically permits temporary confinement as a punishment for speeding, these individuals are presumed to have instantaneously suffered the subjective effect of being fined and briefly imprisoned.) Addendum: Testing logs, as well as relevant project team discussions and write-ups of the minutes of city council meetings, are presented below. Due to their significance in provoking Incident 01.16, which led directly to the neutralization of SCP-8209, communications between Dr. Shimoni, Director Ahe Kahele, Rabbi Issachar Levy, and / or unnamed HR personnel are presented contemporaneously.1 December 12 Testing: TESTING LOG Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $1,001 upon it, atop a table and instructs D-14328 to ‘steal’ it. (Stealing a debit card with $1,001 or more upon it is a Class C felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of five years in prison and a $10,000 fine; state and federal law is explicitly grandfathered into the Habakkuk Municipal Code.) D-14328 complies. Immediately upon picking up the card, D-14328 drops the card, stares into space, and begins weeping. Five minutes later, once D-14328 has composed himself, he is asked if he knows why he was weeping. He says that he does not. Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $10,001 upon it, atop a table and suggests that D-14328 ‘steal’ it. (Stealing a debit card with $10,001 or more upon it is a Class B felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of ten years in prison and a $20,000 fine.) Immediately upon picking up the card, D-14328 collapses upon the ground and is either unwilling or unable to communicate for the following ten minutes. When addressed with his D-number, he reacts with confusion. Director Ahe Kahele (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Not sure if you read the logs from this morning yet I think we have the data we need, don't you think? Just run the tests, Oded. I've got enough paperwork to do already. Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $50,001 upon it, atop a table and suggests that D-14328 ‘steal’ it. (Stealing a debit card with $50,001 or more upon it is a Class A felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of twenty years in prison and a $20,000 fine.) D-14328 has not resumed speaking, but shakes his head and refuses to approach the debit card. Director Ahe Kahele (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) He won't approach the card. Tell him we'll terminate him if he doesn't. With respect, Director, there's a serious problem with that. If I had a nickel for all of your serious problems, I wouldn't need a pension. That would be illegal under the Habakkuk Municipal Code. I'm not going to do that, or I'd be too traumatized to write a half-decent log. That’s why I’ve been ‘suggesting’ that he take the cards, instead of instructing him outright. How do you put italics in your texts? Tell me later; that’s not important. Look, I’m not going to have one of my top people outwitted by any D-class, much less a nonverbal one. He wasn’t nonverbal yesterday. Or this morning. And last night it was dark; but the sun’s out now, isn’t it? Looks like Habakkuk’s municipal boundaries are exactly demarcated by a little dirt road a half-mile or so from where you’re standing. Check that, of course, but if you take him there, you can stand outside Habakkuk and have him cross that road to take the card. You’re outside, he’s inside. Clean test. Dr. Shimoni places a debit card, with $50,001 upon it, atop a table, crosses the dirt road, and instructs D-14328 to ‘steal’ it, upon pain of termination. (Stealing a debit card with $50,001 or more upon it is a Class A felony under North Dakota law, carrying a maximum sentence of twenty years in prison and a $20,000 fine.) D-14328 picks up the card and collapses to the ground, assuming an expression that Shimoni described as ‘hollow.’ Shimoni crosses the road to help him up. Upon being helped up, D-14328 begins walking in an awkward circle, having apparently developed a slight limp (presumably due to a lack of exercise in his past 20 subjective years of life.) After thirty seconds, he focuses his gaze on Dr. Shimoni and charges at him, apparently intending to seize his sidearm. Shimoni and D-14328 topple to the earth; however, immediately upon making contact with Dr. Shimoni, D-14328 goes limp and begins weeping uncontrollably. On the assumption that he ideated a desire to kill Dr. Shimoni during his twenty years of subjective imprisonment, he is presumed to have technically committed a premeditated act of attempted murder, which carries a potential life sentence under North Dakota law. Actuarial analysis suggests that he experienced approximately forty years of imprisonment, followed by subjective death. Director Ahe Kahele (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Done. Shoot, you turned that log around quickly. I hope he didn’t mess you up too badly; are you all right? He gave up immediately upon making contact. Pretty terrifying, but I’ve gotten torn up worse in rugby. But I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more broken person in my life. Don’t give it too much concern. A lot of project teams just need warm bodies, for chemicals testing or whatnot. Also, no idea what they actually do, but the 3000 team is always on the hunt for D-class, and the only requirements they have is that the person be physically alive and not brain-dead. I think your boy will still fit the bill. I can't say my primary concern was about the potential for inconvenience. Right. I know it gives you the warm fuzzies to go to bat for these people. But the only reason they’re not boiling forever in the void between universes is because we’re so damn good at containing things. If we focus too much on the costs, we get myopic. We get cold feet. And we can’t afford that. So when you hold stuff up, you’re not helping the world; you’re just helping yourself feel better about your place in it. And frankly, Oded, that’s a selfish act. We’ve had this conversation before, and I don’t want to start an argument about it. What resolve! Get some sleep. We’re bringing you your next test subject in the morning. Also a few guards; we want to ensure your safety if this happens again. You want the same tests run? Never mind what I want; but that is what the specs say. The ones that got approved. You don’t think we can declare an end to initial testing? Oded, you wrote those specs yourself. December 13 Testing: The write-up of December 13 testing is omitted for purposes of brevity, being too similar to December 12 testing to justify inclusion. For access, please contact Director Kahele’s office. Results from December 12 and December 13 testing were sufficiently convincing to provoke the establishment of a new town charter (‘New Habakkuk’, formally Habakkuk); the renaming of ‘old Habakkuk’ to Habakkuk_2 and the restriction of its town limits to a single patch of field with 3 ‘inhabitants’; and the ‘election’ of Dr. Shimoni, as well as Drs. Ghulam Hazrat and Courtney Spangler, to the Habakkuk_2 City Council. In the interests of urgency and to prevent disproportionate resource usage, the Foundation Legal Department declined to perform a full rewrite of the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code; however, the explicit grandfathering-in of federal and state law was eliminated, to prevent any body besides the Habakkuk_2 City Council from influencing the legal code that governs SCP-8209. The above processes were performed between December 16 and December 28, 2020, during which time all SCP-8209 testing was suspended. During this time, Dr. Shimoni sought out spiritual support from Rabbi Issachar Levy, a chaplain at Site-19. Rabbi Issachar Levy (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Shalom! I know we haven’t really spoken, but my name’s Oded. I’m based out of Site-48, and I could really use a little advice. Sure thing! What can I help you with? It’s going to sound a little bit silly. I don’t think I’m an especially good Jew. Or a good person, more generally. Well, Oded, it won’t surprise you to learn that that’s a discussion I have extremely frequently. The truth is that it’s a little bit easier for us than for others. For members of religions that teach that people are saved by grace, by faith, then the things that we’re exposed to every day can really test their relationship with their religion. Because once you lose your faith, it’s hard to find it again. As for us, we have a list of mitzvot that demand concrete satisfaction; we have obligations that we owe to ourselves and to others, obligations that Hashem commands us to fulfill. For the kabbalists, those mitzvot facilitate the reunion of the Shechinah with the Tiferet. And for the rest of us, they’re simply our purest mode of prayer. You don’t need to actively seek your faith again; if you’ve lost it, it’ll come back. For us, what you are is what you do. I mean, that’s very sweet. But the things I do are exactly what I’m concerned about. Can you tell me more about the acts you refer to as ‘the things you do’? It’s nothing I’d really like to get into. So what do you want to talk about? I guess I’d like to know what G-d thinks of me, as I am. You are fully and entirely the recipient of Hashem’s infinite love, as is all mankind. You know what I meant. Wow. I very much cannot speak to that. Try your best. Have you considered speaking with a therapist as well? I have. But I’d like to finish this first. In that case, I think we’ll have to talk a little bit more about what you call ‘the things you do.’ The good news is that Yom Kippur is in September this year. Redemption for sins against Hashem is freely granted upon repentance. Sins against man? You do not let up. Can’t say I’m used to drawing a flowchart on this. Any odds of getting an apology accepted by those you hurt? Quite low. Two of them are completely non-communicative as a result of what I did to them, and that’s just from this week. A critical mass of sages would probably consider that non-ideal. Gehenna non-ideal? Some sages say that a lot of people spend a short time in Gehenna. I guess they’d say the same about you, but, again, it is not something I or anyone living can tell you for sure. Fun. Maybe that’s for the best. I wouldn’t want to be forgiven too easily. That said, Oded, the afterlife is not a core focus of our tradition, and the idea of any Jew being driven by fear of hellfire is a little repugnant. It sounds like you just want someone to tell you that you deserve to be punished. You’re probably right. I carry a lot of guilt with me, and every once in a while it reminds me it’s there. I’ll just be sitting down and then it’ll hit me. If you’re trying to get closer to your faith, I’d love to have a longer conversation about getting involved with Jewish life at the Foundation. Obviously, we hold regular services at Site-19, and you’re free to join virtually. You can always opt into kosher fare if you decide that’s something you’re interested in, too. We can also add you to the list for Passover-safe rations, send over a home Shabbat kit, put you on the challah list, and / or ensure that you’re adequately supplied with ritual items; apples and honey on Rosh Hashanah, even a little plastic grogger on Purim. If you’re not in the mezuzah program already, I can get one to you for installation. Since Site-48 doesn’t have a Jewish chaplain, I’m authorized to cover your transit to and from Site-19 for seder, as well as a one-day trip during Sukkot to shake the lulav. But you seem more concerned with incorporating Jewish values into your nine-to-five directly. Well, yes, because that’s the part of my day during which I break people’s minds. Honestly, you know and I know that keeping your hands clean here is impossible. But there’s a lovely quote from Pirkei Avot: you are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it. Keep looking out for the folks under you, D-Class included, as much as you can. And if you’re ever on a project that you consider completely irredeemable, it might be a career hit, but you can often transfer out. And just remember- you are loved, you and everyone else still have a share of the World to Come, and you remain both completely able to do good and utterly bound to do so. That’s kind of a pat answer, don’t you think? Frankly, Oded, if you want to self-flagellate, that’s your right as an American. But you don’t obtain redemption through suffering. You obtain it through repentance. You obtain it through repairing the world. To: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) From: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) Subject: Rotation request Dear Director Kahele, I trust that this email finds you well. I’m reaching out to formally request a rotation off of the SCP-8209 project team. SCP-8209 is nothing short of subjective torture, and I’m deeply uncomfortable at the prospect of more rounds of testing of an effect that I’m fairly confident that we understand. In truth, I’m also disturbed by the prospect that SCP-8209 will ultimately be used to ‘discipline’ humanoid anomalies. Usage of SCP-8209 for disciplinary purposes is as flagrantly unethical as the use of a stockade or of an electric collar; if its mechanisms of pain were not invisible, the obscenity of its deployment would be obvious to all. In sum, working for the SCP-8209 project team is utterly irreconcilable with my moral and spiritual commitments, and I would like to leave as soon as is practicable. All the best, Dr. Oded Shimoni To: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: Re: Rotation request Oded, I hope that email felt good to write. Unfortunately, that’s not a request that we can accommodate. My understanding is that the Habakkuk_2 City Council is legally mandated to meet January 1, with follow-up testing planned. I eagerly await your findings. Ahe First Council Meeting and Subsequent Testing (January 1): TRANSCRIPT Councilmembers Dr. Oded Shimoni, Dr. Ghulam Hazrat, and Dr. Courtney Spangler enter the Interim City Council Chambers, defined as a 100-square-foot plot at the center of Habakkuk_2. SHIMONI: I call this meeting of the Habakkuk_2 City Council to order. We have reached quorum. Courtney, could you talk me through what we’re approving today? SPANGLER: The long and short of it is that we don’t know how, if at all, death is experienced within SCP-8209; that is, whether a punishment that would be fatal in the real world is experienced as such. If people experience a loss of sensation at the moment of subjective death, then two identically fatal punishments would be expected to have identical responses. If they don’t- if they keep experiencing even beyond the typical point of death- then it might vary. SHIMONI: Does the second one have to be quite so long? Like, wouldn’t we be able to tell the difference between two minutes and an hour? SPANGLER: I suppose we would. But people can have very different responses, so the difference in duration would have to be so immense that it would overpower any plausible difference in reaction to the same duration. SHIMONI: Can we put it at just a day, then? I really just don’t see why we’d need to do three months. SPANGLER: Sure; for the chairman, anything. HAZRAT: All right, let me annotate my copy real quick. Oded, would this language work for you? SHIMONI: Yeah, fine. HAZRAT: Courtney? SPANGLER: Works for me as well. SHIMONI: We will now vote on Councilman Spangler’s legislation. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay.’ Aye. HAZRAT: Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. SHIMONI: Carried. Not sure we’re following Robert’s Rules exactly, but it seems like the old city council didn’t either. HAZRAT: By the way, Oded, I have a really strange testing idea that I haven’t fully written up the enabling legislation for. But I don’t want to wait until February 1. Is there some route to hold a special session? Because I can draft it right here, but I’d rather not keep everyone in for an hour while I finalize it and get permissions. SHIMONI: Yeah, no problem. I think I saw something in the rules about this. One second… okay, here it is. As I have the backing of one third or more of the Habakkuk_2 City Council and am the Chairman of the Habakkuk_2 City Council, I invoke my right under municipal law to schedule a special city council session with one or more days of notice. Ghulam, when works for you? HAZRAT: Do we want to go with noon on the 13th? I’ll send the draft over next week; you’ll see why I’m so excited. SPANGLER: Works for me. SHIMONI: Yeah, works for me as well. Okay, I schedule the city council session to be held at 12:00 PM on January 13th. I move that we adjourn the city council session. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. HAZRAT: Nay. What? I like y’all’s company so much. SPANGLER: What a sweetie. SHIMONI: Carried. Okay, let's get some lunch. In the January 1 city council session, the following sentences were added to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code: Consumption of one jelly bean within Habakkuk_2 is punishable by full submersion in water for one hundred and twenty seconds. Consumption of more than five jelly beans within Habakkuk_2, within a two-minute period, is punishable by full submersion in water for twenty-four hours. TESTING LOG D-28416 consumed one jellybean and immediately collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. She then lost consciousness for a period of approximately five seconds, presumably due to her high level of stress. Upon coming to, she had no explanation for her prior behavior; however, her voice has remained raspy, for reasons believed to be psychosomatic. [A portion of this testing log has been excised at the request of Director Kahele.] No interview is likely to be completed for D-32181, as she has not yet emerged from her coma and is unlikely to maintain verbal or communicative capacity. Surgeries are continuing, and are expected to partially mitigate self-inflicted damage sustained to her eyes, throat, and hands after jelly bean consumption. POST-TESTING COMMENTARY SPANGLER: Big day for this project. We are essentially unbound by the limits of the human body. I genuinely don’t know of any other tool at the Foundation’s disposal with this kind of flexibility. HAZRAT: For me, the cool part is that we get to use this for modeling. If we want to know the psychic implications of entering a weird portal, we can just say, hey, if you watch more than fifty frames of Mary Poppins, you will be punished by entering this weird portal. SPANGLER: Do we know for sure that SCP-8209 can force a brain to subjectively experience something it can’t reliably simulate? HAZRAT: No; I think at some point, we should write a law that says something like “if you blankety-blank, you will be punished with whatever’s written on the piece of paper in the large, velvet hat.” And the piece of paper says something like “you will be forced to receive $10,000” or something, but the D-Class won’t know that. So then, if their reactions are uniformly positive despite having no way to reliably simulate their experience in advance, we'll know that we're dealing with a predictive tool. SPANGLER: Also, the more I think about it, those D-Class didn’t know about the laws we just passed, but they obviously still were impacted. So my guess is that your bill would work. Is that what we’re passing on the 13th? HAZRAT: No. No, the legislation I’m writing is going to blow your socks off. SPANGLER: Excited. By the way, Oded, are you good? You’ve been pretty quiet. SHIMONI: Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. HAZRAT: Poor guy probably ate a jelly bean. To: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) From: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) Subject: Notification of upcoming departure Dear Director Kahele, Sorry to trouble you on a Friday evening. I’m reaching out to give my two weeks’ notice; my last day will be January 15. It has become clear that my work at the SCP Foundation is ethically untenable. I know that we have a second city council meeting scheduled on January 13; at that meeting, I intend to resign my seat on the city council, with my resignation taking effect within a few days. This will give you a few days to select a replacement and have them become a ‘resident’ of Habakkuk_2 in time to run in the ‘special election.’ I consider my time at the Foundation to have been the most fascinating and enlightening experience of my life thus far, and I am deeply grateful to you and the rest of the Site-48 team. Though I know I’ll be amnesticized upon my exit, I hope to remember these years as a happy, wistful mystery; and, though I cannot ask any of you to ‘stay in touch,’ I do hope that you’ll remember me with fondness as well. All the best, Oded [RECORD PURGED] (Sender: Director Ahe Kahele) Good morning! This is Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele. During my orientation, I was told to reach out to you if, and only if, I had an employee who intended to quit their job at the Foundation because they considered their work to be in violation of their moral or religious beliefs. I'm reaching out about Dr. Oded Shimoni. Please let me know what information to send over. Good morning, Director Kahele. We already have all the information we need. That's a little disconcerting, but appreciated. Ah, he showed you how to use italics. That's less appreciated. To: Dr. Oded Shimoni (noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso#noitadnuof.pcs|2inomihso) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: Re: Notification of upcoming departure Oded, We'll be sorry to see you go. Just to check the box, you’ll be having an exit interview with an HR liaison from Site-19 on January 15. I’ve taken the liberty of putting a 1-hour block on your calendar that day. Happy trails. Ahe Second Council Meeting and Subsequent Testing (January 13): TRANSCRIPT Councilmembers Dr. Oded Shimoni, Dr. Ghulam Hazrat, and Dr. Courtney Spangler enter the Interim City Council Chambers, defined as a 100-square-foot plot at the center of Habakkuk_2. SHIMONI: I call this meeting of the Habakkuk_2 City Council to order. We have reached quorum. Ghulam, I know you requisitioned a D-Class in advance of this meeting; what I don’t know is why he’s still in Fargo. HAZRAT: You didn’t read the legislation? SPANGLER: I didn't either, truthfully. SHIMONI: It's been a busy week. HAZRAT: It's one sentence and the writeup is two pages. But it's fine, I can talk through it. HAZRAT: So it occurred to me, we keep writing bills that apply within Habakkuk_2, right? SPANGLER: Municipal laws are almost tautologically written to apply within their relevant municipality, no? HAZRAT: Sure. You know that. I know that. I was just thinking, what if nobody told the anomaly? SHIMONI (reading the document): Oh. This could be a real normalcy risk. We de facto create a new anomaly: from now on, if this works, then if anyone satisfies this fact pattern, anywhere, they’ll whisk themselves behind the Veil. SPANGLER: I don’t think that’ll be a problem; I don’t imagine that anyone’s ever satisfied this fact pattern before, or that they ever will again. For hygiene purposes, though, Ghulam, would you be willing to repeal this at the next meeting? HAZRAT: Yes, if I’m still on the city council. I figure that, once I win the Foundation Star for this, I’m not sure I’ll keep being able to get away for these meetings. SHIMONI: Too busy with the O5's? HAZRAT: Yeah, and signing autographs. SHIMONI: On the topic of turnover, though, we do need to talk about the elephant in the room. HAZRAT: Urgh. SHIMONI: Courtney, I’m giving you the chairmanship when I depart; the language you’ll be using to call the special election should be in Section 3 of the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code. You need to call it within ten days of my departure, and hold it within three weeks. I know Ahe is going to want some time to find a new person, so just let me know what day you want my resignation to be effective upon. SPANGLER: I’ve got a pretty busy week and a half coming up, and I know quorum is all-but-two, so I’m not too worried about needing a third person going into the February 1 meeting. Want to make your resignation effective on Jan 20? SHIMONI: Yeah, works. I officially announce my resignation, effective on January 20 at 12:00 PM. Upon my resignation, Councilwoman Spangler will assume the chairpersonship of the Habakkuk_2 City Council. SPANGLER: That's all it takes? SHIMONI: That's all it takes. SPANGLER: We're going to miss you. SHIMONI: Appreciate it. Can’t say it’s mutual, since I’ll be amnesticized to hell, but I have enjoyed working with you both. HAZRAT: That’s flat-out depressing, but before the person you are now enters oblivion, let’s pass this bill, all right? SHIMONI: No edits from me. We will now vote on Councilman Hazrat’s legislation. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. HAZRAT: Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. SHIMONI: Carried. I move that we adjourn the special city council session. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. SPANGLER: Aye. HAZRAT: Aye. SHIMONI: Carried. Ghulam, let’s see what your man in Fargo can do. In the January 13 special city council session, the following sentences were added to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code: Globally, watching any set of fifty frames from Disney cartoon ‘Steamboat Willie,’ consuming more than two ounces of meat from a sheep’s head, intentionally imitating a chicken, and urinating directly into a conch shell within a single sixty-second period is punishable by being told the funniest joke that you’ve ever heard. TESTING LOG In Fargo, North Dakota, while a 60-second timer runs, D-43222 rapidly consumes several mouthfuls of meat from a sheep’s head as a six-second block of ‘Steamboat Willie’ plays. After chewing and swallowing the final mouthful, he hurriedly makes ‘bawk-bawk’ noises, retrieves a conch shell from a nearby table, and looks around for the bathroom. Finding none, and with ten seconds remaining on the clock, he drops his pants and underwear and urinates into the conch, with the contents spilling onto the testing-room floor. Immediately, he begins laughing uproariously for eleven seconds, stops, looks around confusedly, hurriedly drops the conch, and pulls his pants and underwear back up. POST-TESTING COMMENTARY SHIMONI: I no longer believe that this particular law has the capacity to be a threat to normalcy. HAZRAT: We could just end murder, right? It’d take some fiddling around with, but doesn’t this mean that we could basically end murder in an instant? SPANGLER: Oded, not complaining, but it’s insane that you’re handing over this project. SHIMONI: It's going to be a whole new world. FIRE SUPPRESSION DEPARTMENT - CLASSIFIED The following information is restricted to FSD Internal Affairs. Unauthorized access is strictly forbidden. If you have accessed this section without authorization, close your session now and remain where you are. We know how to find you. Incident ZBDA34 : Dr. Oded Shimoni, Transcript of Interview (15 Jan 2021) SHIMONI: I don’t want to get too in the weeds on this. The truth is, I just get tired of hurting people. I had a really good conversation with a chaplain from Site-19… well, I don’t know if he’d describe it that way, but I found it helpful. SHIMONI: I’m not arrogant enough to think that my leaving will make anything better for anyone. Honestly, Director Kahele might be right; it might be a little bit selfish. But I’ve made my peace with that. SHIMONI: I’ve spent years dragging my soul through the mud, and I don’t want to do it anymore. [RECORD PURGED]: Tell me more about this conversation. SHIMONI: Well, I hopped on the line and I just wore this poor guy down until he said, hey, Oded, you’re probably going to Gehenna. [RECORD PURGED]: Apologies, but what’s Gehenna? SHIMONI: It’s like purgatory, but worse. Judaism doesn’t really have hell, but it’s a place you’re purified before you enter the World to Come, and it’s not a pleasant place. But that’s only half the point. I realized that if I looked at my life with clarity, no rationalization, not pulling any punches, I was just so far from what I believed in, and this struck me as the only way back home. [RECORD PURGED]: Understood. And you genuinely, literally believe in such a place? SHIMONI: I- I suppose that I do. [RECORD PURGED]: Hmm. SHIMONI: But, to tell you the truth, I don’t see what the point of that question was. [RECORD PURGED]: I don’t want to get off track. I was just surprised. SHIMONI: With respect, I’m quite used to having my beliefs belittled, and I’d rather not continue that on my way out the door. [RECORD PURGED]: Clearly the question went over poorly. I wasn’t trying to mock you- it just reminded me of something. SHIMONI: Got it. I’m sorry if I overreacted. [RECORD PURGED]: No, you’re clearly defensive for a reason. I’m very sorry that you haven’t been heard out in the past, and I’ll make sure that goes in the exit report.2 SHIMONI: I appreciate that. And, again, very sorry for biting your head off. [RECORD PURGED]: All that afterlife talk… well, it just took me back to my Tactical Theology days a little bit, you know? Almost nostalgic. SHIMONI: That’s a really cool department. You did afterlife research? [RECORD PURGED]: I did! SHIMONI: Well, we’ve got a lot left of this hour, and I don’t have all that much left to say. So what did I… what did I accidentally remind you of? [RECORD PURGED]: Just something from a previous project. I really shouldn’t be bringing it up. SHIMONI: Over my clearance level? [RECORD PURGED]: Not technically, no. SHIMONI: Should I make some popcorn? [RECORD PURGED]: It really, really isn’t like that. It’s not an infohazard or anything, but it’s a bad thing to know. SHIMONI: You’ve gotten me curious. [RECORD PURGED]: It’s hard to tell a scientist this, but you should stop being curious. It’s the kind of thing that you only think that you want to see. SHIMONI: Now, I’m not too good at puppy eyes, but… [RECORD PURGED]: You'd forget it tomorrow anyway. SHIMONI (laughing): So tell me now! [RECORD PURGED]: You really don't want to read this. SHIMONI: Can I be the judge of that? [RECORD PURGED]: Fine. Fine. Let me pull it up. [RECORD PURGED] produces and hands Dr. Oded Shimoni the write-up for SCP-6130. Approximately a minute and a half of silence follows. SHIMONI (softly): Everyone? [RECORD PURGED]: Forever. SHIMONI: But I'm Jewish. I don't even believe in Hell. [RECORD PURGED]: If I don't believe in oceans, what does that change? SHIMONI: Oh my God. (Heavy breathing.) SHIMONI: Ho Feng-Shan? [RECORD PURGED]: Yes. SHIMONI: I don't know. I don't know. Lincoln? [RECORD PURGED]: Yes. SHIMONI: My little brother. [RECORD PURGED]: Trust me, I took it hard, too. (Shimoni walks over to the closet and grabs a small box, opening it to reveal a small array of trays filled with pills. He dumps some at random in his hand.) [RECORD PURGED]: What the hell are you about to take? SHIMONI: Amnestics. Want some? [RECORD PURGED]: There’s no way you can find the right dose that quickly. SHIMONI: I don’t care if this shit takes me back to kindergarten. [RECORD PURGED]: You should care. Your time here is important. SHIMONI: What? [RECORD PURGED]: Think about it, Doctor. It's the only time you or anyone else is ever allowed to be happy. (Shimoni sighs and dumps the pills into the box.) SHIMONI: I'm being a coward. [RECORD PURGED]: I'm so, so sorry. SHIMONI: Don't be. I forced your hand. [RECORD PURGED]: Well, maybe. But I think that there’s a part of me that wanted to show you. I’ve just kept it a secret for so long. SHIMONI: God. [RECORD PURGED]: It’s been a hard few decades. You’ve got a hard few decades ahead of you. SHIMONI: And a harder eternity. [RECORD PURGED]: Well, that you're not alone in. SHIMONI: Will I be able to see my family down there? [RECORD PURGED]: I don't know. All I know is what's on that sheet I showed you. SHIMONI: I might need to be alone for a while. [RECORD PURGED]: I understand. SHIMONI: Right. Before you leave, though. I guess… I guess I'd like to retract my resignation, if that's an option. [RECORD PURGED]: Are you sure? It'd be great to have you back, but… SHIMONI: Yes. I think I can do some good here. Whatever that makes of me. [RECORD PURGED]: All right. Welcome back, Doctor. (Shimoni forces a smile.) INCIDENT ZBDA34 is considered RESOLVED. Rabbi Issachar Levy (Sender: Dr. Oded Shimoni) Hey, it’s Friday night, so I know it’s going to be a while before you see this. I don’t think I’m making it to Yom Kippur. But I’ve got good news and bad news. I can't tell you the bad news. The good news is that I'm repairing the world. Third Council Meeting (January 16): TRANSCRIPT Councilmember Dr. Oded Shimoni enters the Interim City Council Chambers, defined as a 100-square-foot plot at the center of Habakkuk_2. SHIMONI: It is 11:59 PM on January 15. As I have the backing of one third or more of the Habakkuk_2 City Council and am the Chairman of the Habakkuk_2 City Council, I invoke my right under municipal law to schedule a special city council session with one day or more of notice. I schedule the special city council session to be held at 12:01 AM on January 16. (Shimoni checks his watch, waits, and checks his watch again.) SHIMONI: It is now 12:01 on January 16. I call this meeting of the Habakkuk_2 City Council to order. The quorum requirements for special city council sessions require that no more than two members of the Habakkuk_2 City Council be absent. Exactly two members of the Habakkuk_2 City Council are absent. We have reached quorum. SHIMONI: We will now vote on Councilman Shimoni's legislation. All in favor, say 'Aye'; all opposed, say 'Nay.' Aye. Carried. SHIMONI: I move that we adjourn the special city council session. All in favor, say ‘Aye’; all opposed, say ‘Nay’. Aye. Carried. (Shimoni withdraws his sidearm from his belt and shoots himself under the chin.) In the January 16 special city council session, the following sentences were added to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code: All clauses within the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code that provide for criminal penalties for any action, actions, or states of being, and were passed on or before January 15, 2021, are henceforth null and void. As of 12:05 AM on January 16, 2021, neither the Habakkuk_2 City Council, nor any citizen of Habakkuk_2, nor any other body, is authorized to make any changes to the Habakkuk_2 Municipal Code. The act of death is universally criminal, punishable by ten thousand years in paradise, renewable at will. Footnotes 1. We understand that the publication of communications between Dr. Shimoni and Rabbi Levy may make readers concerned about the confidentiality of discussions with site chaplains. There is no reason to be concerned. 2. The Fire Suppression Department does not file exit reports. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8209" by habaniah, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8209. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8210 | esoteric-class | Item#: 8210 Level2 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8210 is currently uncontained, and containment is inadvisable following Incident 8210-2. Focus should instead be shifted to the suppression of knowledge of SCP-8210's effects through spreading of misinformation regarding the filming of television shows or movies. Class C amnestics are authorized for use on civilians who have been directly altered by SCP-8210's effects. Description: SCP-8210 is a mid-thirties Caucasian male of average height and build. SCP-8210's anomalous trait causes reality to shift around him to match stereotypes and tropes of action fiction, with a specific emphasis on superhero and comic book fiction. These changes seem to follow a path-of-least-resistance principle where reality is changed as little as possible. The changes have never been observed directly, with those directly affected unable to recall how the change occurred. SCP-8210 has not demonstrated any control over when or how this ability manifests. The uncontrollable nature of the reality shifts reportedly causes SCP-8210 a high degree of annoyance. Evidence suggests that changes are more likely to occur if people, places, objects, scenarios, etc. resemble in some capacity superhero story archetypes. This theorized anomalous trait, combined with SCP-8210's high degree of knowledge of superhero tropes and resistance to containment, makes the acquisition and long-term containment of SCP-8210 exceptionally difficult. Locations affected by SCP-8210 will typically shift to match a set of stereotypical locations where a superhero would be present. Not all locations visited by SCP-8210 are affected and not all changes will affect the entirety of the location. These changes will revert when SCP-8210 is no longer in the vicinity or otherwise able to consciously observe the location, such as while asleep. Some examples include but are not limited to: The basement of SCP-8210’s residence becoming a large underground cave filled with advanced computers, various nonlethal weaponry, and a heavily-stylized 1960's automobile, all matching a particular theme that varies each time SCP-8210 enters. A majority of larger, empty city buildings entered by SCP-8210 becoming abandoned warehouses filled with nondescript and generic wooden and cardboard boxes. These buildings will typically have various long chains and ropes hanging from the ceiling that seem to serve no functional purpose. A skyscraper having a majority of floors transformed into laboratories or a series of long hallways. The last five floors were transformed into a single penthouse apartment doubling as a headquarters, including a security room receiving camera feeds from every floor, an ornate desk featuring a button-activated trapdoor in front of it, and a large balcony overlooking the city. Containment cells becoming traditional prison cells. These typically include floor-to-ceiling bars with 0.3-meter spacing and a large padlock. People affected by SCP-8210 will have their behavior, speech patterns, and outfits altered to match stereotypical characters a superhero may interact with. These individuals will often have their physical abilities and skills altered to match the stereotypical role they fill. Any changes will revert when SCP-8210 is no longer within a certain, fluctuating range of these individuals or is no longer consciously aware of them. Any changes that occur during the anomalous alterations will remain.1 Some examples include but are not limited to: Foundation MTF members having their outfits transformed into brightly colored tights with matching eye masks. When engaging with SCP-8210, these MTF members have been shown to follow the rules of mook chivalry.2 Law enforcement officers attempting to contact SCP-8210 to handle both real and nonexistent crimes on their behalf. This behavior is often accompanied by a red rotary phone appearing somewhere in the police precinct which will always call the cellphone of SCP-8210 regardless of what number is dialed. Individuals engaging in coordinated criminal activity having their outfits changed to either brightly colored tights or stereotypical black and white striped clothing. These individuals will typically either shift their criminal goals to something more absurd or will go about their previous criminal endeavors in an absurd fashion. Recovery Log: SCP-8210 was first discovered on 03/22/2021. News footage was being broadcast of a bank robbery happening in San Diego, California. The robbers were dressed in matching bright purple long-sleeve sweaters, black pants, black beanies, and black masks over their eyes. They were brandishing bright purple walking canes as if they were assault rifles. Footage showed two of the robbers spraying bright yellow smoke from the canes. Those who the gas reached appeared to fall unconscious, with many of them tilting back and placing the back of their hand on their forehead first. This was enough on its own to warrant dispatching Foundation agents to investigate. Arriving agents witnessed SCP-8210 combatting the criminals. SCP-8210 appeared annoyed and was heard complaining and loudly sighing during the fight. The criminals displayed an unusual lack of physical coordination, some tripping over nothing and others accidentally punching their allies with wild haymakers. Each criminal seemed to fall unconscious after falling once or receiving a single punch, kick, or shove from either SCP-8210 or their allies. Agents disguised as local law enforcement apprehended SCP-8210 at the conclusion of the fight. SCP-8210 came willingly and commented that he was unsure if he would be awarded the key to the city by the mayor or if he would be gently scolded for taking the law into his own hands. All other individuals involved were amnestisized, and a cover story about a flash mob was spread due to the highly public nature of the incident. Post-Recovery Interview Log Post-Recovery Interview Log Interviewed: SCP-8210 Interviewee: Dr. Harcroft <Begin log> Dr. Harcroft: Please state your name for the record. <SCP-8210 sighs and massages his temples> SCP-8210: I take it you're not really cops? Dr. Harcroft: No, we are not. Now, please state your name for the record. SCP-8210: So, what is this? Are you a minon? A goon? You work for some big bad math teacher or something? Dr. Harcroft: Pardon me, but what makes you think we work for a math teacher? SCP-8210: I don't know. I just saw the real geometric symbol on everyone's costumes. There's always a theme. Sometimes it's ice, sometimes it's jungle, this one time it was glowsticks, which was admittedly pretty funny. I figured maybe y'all's theme was math. Dr. Harcroft: I assure you, we are not in costume and we do not work for an evil mathematician. <SCP-8210 waves his hands apologetically> SCP-8210: You can't blame me for being suspicious. This kinda stuff has been happening to me a lot lately. So you're not regular law enforcement, but you're not comic book supervillains. That begs the question: who are you guys and why am I here? Dr. Harcroft: Our organization deals with the anomalous, and we have reason to believe you are anomalous in some way. Now, for the last time, please state your name for the record. SCP-8210: Jeez, sorry, calm down, will ya? My name's Max Mayfield. So, what are you guys? Is this like Men in Black, but for anything weird instead of just aliens? <Dr. Harcroft shrugs> Dr. Harcroft: I suppose that's actually pretty accurate. I will say, though, we tend not to kill or destroy as often as Will Smith and Harvey Lee Jones. SCP-8210: What do you mean, tend not to? That's not making me feel real confident about being here. Dr. Harcroft: Your presence here is not optional, I am afraid. I can assure you that as long as you do not try to actively harm anyone, you will be perfectly safe. We simply wish to understand what you are and how you do what you do so that we can prevent it from happening moving forward. SCP-8210: I would actually love that. Honestly, I don't know why this stuff keeps happening to me. It's pretty annoying, though, and if you guys can make it stop, I'd be in your debt. Dr. Harcroft: How long has this been a problem for you? SCP-8210: I dunno. I really started noticing maybe a month ago, but who's to say if it hasn't been happening for longer? Dr. Harcroft: I see. And do you have any idea what triggers these events? SCP-8210: I don't. They just happen. I'll be going about my normal day, and then suddenly it's not so normal. My basement looks like a cheap knockoff of the Bat Cave. I tried to go out for some drinks with my buddies one time and wound up in a bar fight where every table and chair shattered into pieces at the slightest touch. I've never seriously gotten hurt or anything, but it's just all so stupid, you know? I remember watching Adam West's Batman growing up. Did you ever watch it? Dr. Harcroft: I am familiar with it, but I can't say I've ever actively watched it. SCP-8210: I did. When I was a little kid, it would be on TV sometimes. One episode a week, and then you'd have to wait. Same bat-time, same bat-channel. SCP-8210 chuckles. I remember taking it so seriously. The drama, the dangerous traps, the villains, all of it felt very real and serious to me. I came back to it as an adult, and let me tell you, it's all so fucking stupid. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love that shit, but there's nothing serious about it. It's stupid but in a funny way. Well, I guess I used to love it I should say. Once I started living it, it stopped being funny. Dr. Harcroft: I see, I see. Let's get back on track. I have some more questions for you. <The camera feed is lost for 0.5 seconds. When it resumes, Dr. Harcroft is now dressed in a full police uniform and sports dark aviator sunglasses and a thick mustache.> <Dr. Harcroft bangs his fists on the desk.> Dr. Harcroft: Who do you think you are, taking the law into your own hands? You think you're better than us? You think you're tough? I bet you're not so tough under that mask. SCP-8210: Jeez. I'm not even wearing… You know, I was really hoping this wouldn't happen. <SCP-8210 stands up and approaches the door. Dr. Harcroft pulls out a police baton and blocks SCP-8210's exit. Dr. Harcroft swings the baton and misses, striking the table instead. The baton bounces off the table and hits Dr. Harcroft in the head, causing him to collapse. SCP-8210 shakes his head, pats down Dr. Harcroft, retrieves the Doctor’s ID, and exits the room.> <END LOG> Incident 8210-1: Initial Post-Recovery Escape Incident 8210-1: Security Log <Security camera footage shows SCP-8210 exiting the interview room and slowly walking down a hallway. Lights flash and an alarm siren blares.3SCP-8210 shakes his head as he continues walking down the hallway.> <SCP-8210 enters Site 230's cafeteria. 36 Foundation agents were present at the time.> SCP-8210: God-fucking-dammit. Are we cool, or does this have to be a whole thing? <Foundation agents stand up, surround SCP-8210, and raise their fists.4One of the agents later identified as Bartholomew Rodriguez speaks.> Agent Rodriguez: We have you surrounded. It's over. SCP-8210: We have you surrounded. It's over. Blah, blah, blah, whatever. Let's just get this over with. <Each agent approaches SCP-8210 one at a time to fight him while the rest engage in shadow boxing. SCP-8210 dispatches each agent with minimal effort.5> <An agent sporting full tactical body armor, later identified as Agent Laura Watson, kicks in the cafeteria door.> SCP-8210: Oh what now? <Agent Watson draws a large hunting knife and performs a series of flips, cartwheels, and backflips toward SCP-8210.6Agent Watson stops approximately 3 meters away from SCP-8210. Agent Watson tosses the knife between her hands several times and performs a series of stylized slashes and stabs.> SCP-8210: Ugh. There's always one. <Agent Watson makes multiple attempts to stab and slash SCP-8210. SCP-8210 backpedals and narrowly avoids the attacks. Agent Watson slashes across SCP-8210's face, creating a small cut under SCP-8210's right cheek. A Single drop of blood rolls down SCP-8210's face, which he wipes off with his finger.> <SCP-8210 winces and recoils.> SCP-8210: Alright, you got your one good hit in. <SCP-8210 clears his throat> It's my turn now. <SCP-8210 uppercuts Agent Watson. This seems to stun her, and she stumbles back. SCP-8210 follows up with a series of slow, weak punches which nonetheless all connect. Agent Hernandez reacts as if the punches packed significant force. After a second uppercut, Agent Hernandez collapses to the floor.> <SCP-8210 spends the next 5 minutes removing Agent Watson's body armor and helmet and donning it himself. The armor is noticeably large for SCP-8210. SCP-8210 successfully exits Site 230 without raising the suspicions of any of the agents, doctors, and other site staff that he passes.> Addendum 8210-R: Recontainment Attempts Addendum 8210-R: Recontainment Attempts Multiple attempts have been made at recontaining SCP-8210. The longest successful containment of SCP-8210 at present time is approximately 4 hours. Below is a summary of various attempts. Several have been left out in favor of highlighting unique attempts that best demonstrate the potential risks and difficulties associated with recontainment and long-term containment efforts. SCP-8210 was successfully apprehended by Foundation agents and placed in a cell. During a brief glitch in the security camera observing the cell, it was transformed into a traditional barred cell as described previously in this document. An agent slowly walked past while whistling, allowing SCP-8210 to grab the agent, slam his head against the bars, and retrieve a large brass key from the unconscious agent. SCP-8210 swapped clothes with the agent, bound and gagged him using the agent's undershirt and socks, and successfully exited the facility. The agent was discovered grunting through his gag approximately 2 hours later. SCP-8210 was unable to be located on-site and security footage showed SCP-8210 walking around a corner and disappearing. MTF Pi-1 "City Slickers" was dispatched to San Diego, California to recontain SCP-8210. Upon engaging with SCP-8210, MTF members had their clothing transformed into pinstripe suits and fedoras. Audio recordings indicate that the MTF members spoke with an exaggerated Bronx accent during this time. SCP-8210 easily dispatched several MTF members after first asking if "this could be done another day". After the third MTF member was dispatched, one of the MTF members shouted, "Let's get outta here, boys!" prompting the remaining members to flee. Agents lured SCP-8210 to an abandoned warehouse where they then planned to apprehend him. This attempt was disrupted by anomalous alterations to the warehouse and interference from an individual calling themself "The Embezzler". The warehouse was transformed to include a maze, multiple large television screens with attached speakers featuring The Embezzler, and a Rube Goldberg machine that, upon completion, would have released a large collection of nickels, dimes, and pennies weighing a combined total of over 10 tons. Agents became trapped in the maze upon entering the warehouse and having the doors automatically shut and lock behind them. SCP-8210 successfully exited the maze and stopped the machine approximately 0.5 seconds prior to its completion. SCP-8210 reportedly held out his hands and told agents, "You're welcome," before exiting the warehouse.7 SCP-8210 was successfully apprehended and contained at Site 230. During containment, Site Director Johnston had a conversation with Doctor Evelyn Grace regarding a reduction in Doctor Grace's salary. This incident is believed to have resembled a "damsel-in-distress" scenario and activated SCP-8210's anomalous ability. A more complete overview of Incident 8210-2 is available in this document. Incident 8210-2: Security Log Incident 8210-2: Security Log <Security camera footage shows the cell containing SCP-8210. A guard approaches the cell, looks through the glass window of the cell door and reacts with shock.> Guard: What? Where is he? <The guard proceeds to open the cell and enter. Once the guard has reached the back of the cell, SCP-8210 steps out from the right corner behind the door. He calmly approaches the guard and karate-chops the back of the guard's neck. The guard collapses to the floor.> <Security cameras and audio recording devices sitewide experience simultaneous failure for 3.2 seconds. Upon resuming function, a majority of Site 230 and its personnel are unchanged with the exception of Director Johnston’s office and the surrounding area. Director Johnston is now dressed in a bulky red outfit, golden cape, a stylized black military general cap, and two large golden shoulder pauldrons resembling lions. Dr. Grace is now dressed in a blue blazer, blue dress pants, and a low-cut blouse. A name badge hanging around her neck identified her as Lucy Lebeaux, a reporter for the “Foundation Tribune”. All Foundation personnel within a 30-meter radius of the Director’s office are now clad in bulky red outfits matching Director Johnston’s.> <Several of the altered personnel entered the office and proceeded to tie up Dr. Grace with a large length of rope by running around her with it until it covers the length of her body.> Dr. Grace: You’ll never get away with this, Doctor Destruction. Director Johnston: With an exaggerated German Accent I already have. Oh, minions! <Director Johnston snaps his fingers. One of the costumed Foundation personnel, henceforth referred to in this document as minions, produces a bandana and gags Dr. Grace. She is pushed out of the room and out of view of security cameras by several minions.> <Director Johnston returns to his desk and activates the PA system.> Director Johnston: Why, hello there SCP-8210, or shall I say, Max Mayfield? That's right, I know your secret identity. I take it that you are here to defeat me and to rescue your precious Lucy Lebeaux? Such a silly reporter, sticking her nose where it does not belong. <SCP-8210 buries his face in his hands for several seconds.> SCP-8210: Aw, come on! I'm guessing I won't be able to leave unless I deal with you first. You can hear me, right? Director Johnston: That's right, my little wunderkind. You are in my lair, the lair of Doctor Destruction. There shall be no escape this time. Muahahahaha! Go, my minions. Destroy this dummkopf. <SCP-8210 makes his way through the site while grumbling to himself. After 2 minutes, 4 members of site security reach SCP-8210 and point assault rifles at him.> SCP-8210: Are you guys yourselves? I really don't wanna fight anyone I don't have to. <One of the guards, later identified as Security Officer Daniel Bronson, steps forward.> Officer Bronson: SCP-8210, cease all anomalous activity and return to your containment cell immediately. SCP-8210: I can't control this. I guess you guys didn't know. I can't make this stop on a whim. If I could, then I would and this bullshit would never happen. Whatever's happening, the only way I've ever made it stop is by playing out the scenario. Why don't you put those guns away and let me pass? <The guards do not respond nor do they lower their weapons> SCP-8210: Look, I take it you guys have some serious stuff locked up here, right? Stuff that's way more dangerous than me? And I doubt having a supervillain on site is very helpful. Why don't you let me take care of this before this mess spirals out of control and something dangerous gets out? <There are several seconds of silence during which none of the present individuals move.> Officer Bronson: Alright, but we are gonna be with you the whole time, and it's straight back to your cell after this. SCP-8210: I wouldn't join me if I were you. Superheroes always work alone or with other superheroes, so it might mess things up. For all I know, I'm supposed to be giving a speech about working alone right now. Officer Bronson: Who's to say we don't count as superheroes? Plus, we know where the Director's office is and can guide you there. SCP-8210: You guys definitely are not superheroes. Look, there's no way I'm letting you shitheads come with me. The only way I've avoided getting myself and others seriously hurt is by playing by the rules of the genre. I don't make those rules. I just follow them, so sorry, not sorry, out of my way. Officer Bronson: If we have to work within the genre, then maybe we're good to go. Every superhero has normal people who sometimes help them, and the help always comes after an argument where the superhero refuses help. Maybe this could be one of those situations where the story shows ordinary people can still make a difference. I think this fulfills those genre expectations. <SCP-8210 throws his hands up in defeat.> SCP-8210: Dammit, fine. You win. Let's go. <SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers make their way through the site toward Director Johnston's office. Ten minutes go by without any interactions with other personnel.> Officer Bronson: It's quiet. Too quiet. <At that moment, the lights go out around SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers.> SCP-8210: You fucking idiot. <The lights turn back on. SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers have been surrounded by 15 minions armed with assault rifles.> Minon 1: Drop the weapons. <The 4 security officers slowly place their assault rifles on the floor. SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers place their hands behind their heads while the minons retrieve the weapons. One of them pokes SCP-8210 in the back with his rifle.> Minon 13: Move it. The boss has a lot to say to you folks. <SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers are led at gunpoint to Director Johnston's office. Once inside, a majority of minons exit, leaving behind only 2. Director Johnston is sitting behind his desk facing backward.> <Director Johnston slowly spins around his office chair to face them.> Director Johnston: I've been expecting you, SCP-8210. <SCP-8210 shows high levels of frustration and attempts to pull his own hair out.> SCP-8210: Oh my fucking god, are you kidding me? That little spin thing was probably the most cliche thing that's happened to me since this all started. Now, can we fight and get it over with, Doctor Destruction? <Director Johnston wags his finger.> Director Johnston: Not so fast, mein little boy blunder. <Director Johnston retrieves a large remote with an antenna and a single red button from beneath his desk. He gestures to his office window. Outside, Doctor Grace is tied up and hanging upside down over a pool of bubbling liquid.> Director Johnston: Let's not make any sudden moves, or else your precious Lucy Lebeaux dies. SCP-8210: Jesus, fuck. Let me guess, boiling acid? When did that even get here? I mean, I've never met that woman in my life, but let's maybe not kill people, okay? Director Johnston: Who are you to tell me what to do? You are my prisoner, SCP-8210. <SCP-8210 turns around, grabs the 2 minons, and weakly shoves them. Both minons are pushed much further than would be expected before collapsing.> SCP-8210: Alright, guys, let's arrest him or whatever and get this over with. <Two of the security officers present retrieved the assault rifles from the minons. They point the rifles at SCP-8210. They each use one hand to rip off their suits, which are shown to be fake, velcroed pull-off outfits. All 4 are shown to have been wearing minion outfits underneath despite the minion outfits being substantially bulkier and larger than their outerwear.> Officer Bronson: Sorry, kid. Turns out the real trope was that your new allies secretly worked for the bad guy the whole time. <Director Johnston pushes the button on his remote. Doctor Grace slowly lowers toward the boiling liquid.8 > Director Johnston: I warned you, and now you must face the consequences. <SCP-8210 lunges at Director Johnston. One of the security officers fires at SCP-8210 and hits his torso. SCP-8210 falls to the ground.> SCP-8210: Oh sweet Jesus, oh fuck, that fucking hurts! God-dammit! You fucking shot me! What the fuck? I've never been hurt during one of these. Oh, sweet Jesus, oh fuck, oh fuck. <SCP-8210 tries to stand, but stumbles and falls. SCP-8210 attempts to stand again, and this time is successful.> Director Johnston: I admire the fight in you, SCP-8210. Most others would have given up. What keeps you going? Why do you still fight? SCP-8210: Jesus-fucking-Christ, this hurts, but I gotta finish it. <SCP-8210 holds up one finger as if to request Director Johnston waits.> Just give me a moment. Ah, fuck. I gotta make the speech, I'm just a little out of breath. <SCP-8210 takes several deep inhales.> Okay, okay. I fight because I gotta, right? And I know I'll be fine because heroes always power through wounds like this and only collapse once they're safe and the fight's over. Maybe its the adrenaline from the gunshot, but I think I'm actually enjoying this for once. We gotta make the most out of life, right? Did that come out right? Aw, fuck it, who cares. <SCP-8210 charges at Director Johnston, leaps over the desk, and tackles him to the floor. Agents fire at SCP-8210, but miss and instead shatter the office window. SCP-8210 grabs the remote from Director Johnston and throws it at one of the agents. The remote hits the agent in the head, causing him to collapse. SCP-8210 leaps out of the window while a second agent fires at him. The agent misses, but a stray bullet hits the rope holding up Dr. Grace. The frayed rope manages to hold long enough for SCP-8210 to jump over the pool of boiling liquid, catching the falling Dr. Grace as he does so.> Dr. Grace: My hero. SCP-8210: Whatever. <SCP-8210 drops Dr. Grace on the floor. He looks down at his bloodstained shirt and feels around.> SCP-8210: Whaddaya know. Hey Lucy, what do you weigh? <Dr. Grace giggles> Dr. Grace: Now, you can't ask a woman a question like that, lover boy. SCP-8210: I, uh, yeah, I think that would be assault if I tried anything, but anyways. <SCP-8210 bends over and picks up Dr. Grace with ease.> It's just that I've never been to a gym in my life. <SCP-8210 drops Dr. Grace again. He proceeds to pat himself down around the location of his previous gunshot wound. Camera footage shows no sign of injury.> Dr. Grace: Will I ever see you again? SCP-8210: I sure fucking hope not. <SCP-8210 walks off and around a corner. Security cameras and audio recorders sitewide fail for 10 seconds. Upon resuming function, all anomalous changes from SCP-8210 appear to have reverted to normal. SCP-8210 was no longer on site.> Footnotes 1. For example, any injuries sustained during the alteration will remain. 2. Behavior exhibited by enemies and combatants in fiction where individuals act in a way that best serves the story and will allow the hero to stand a fair chance of succeeding. The most famous example is the set walking patterns of enemies in Super Mario. 3. Records show that no personnel nor automated system activated any alarms. 4. 14 agents present were confirmed to have firearms and/or nonlethal stunguns on them at the time. None of them chose to make use of them in any capacity. 5. All 36 agents were unconscious upon recovery, but none of them had sustained any injuries sufficient to cause loss of consciousness. 6. Agent Watson has not demonstrated this level of acrobatic talent before or after this incident. 7. Local businesses since the incident have reported small but statistically significant descrepencies in their quarterly revenue reports since this incident. "The Embezzler" has been labled as a potential Person of Interest and has not been apprehended at this time. 8. It is estimated that it would have taken approximately 30 minutes for her to reach the liquid at her rate of descent. |
SCP-8210 | uncontained | Item#: 8210 Level2 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8210 is currently uncontained, and containment is inadvisable following Incident 8210-2. Focus should instead be shifted to the suppression of knowledge of SCP-8210's effects through spreading of misinformation regarding the filming of television shows or movies. Class C amnestics are authorized for use on civilians who have been directly altered by SCP-8210's effects. Description: SCP-8210 is a mid-thirties Caucasian male of average height and build. SCP-8210's anomalous trait causes reality to shift around him to match stereotypes and tropes of action fiction, with a specific emphasis on superhero and comic book fiction. These changes seem to follow a path-of-least-resistance principle where reality is changed as little as possible. The changes have never been observed directly, with those directly affected unable to recall how the change occurred. SCP-8210 has not demonstrated any control over when or how this ability manifests. The uncontrollable nature of the reality shifts reportedly causes SCP-8210 a high degree of annoyance. Evidence suggests that changes are more likely to occur if people, places, objects, scenarios, etc. resemble in some capacity superhero story archetypes. This theorized anomalous trait, combined with SCP-8210's high degree of knowledge of superhero tropes and resistance to containment, makes the acquisition and long-term containment of SCP-8210 exceptionally difficult. Locations affected by SCP-8210 will typically shift to match a set of stereotypical locations where a superhero would be present. Not all locations visited by SCP-8210 are affected and not all changes will affect the entirety of the location. These changes will revert when SCP-8210 is no longer in the vicinity or otherwise able to consciously observe the location, such as while asleep. Some examples include but are not limited to: The basement of SCP-8210’s residence becoming a large underground cave filled with advanced computers, various nonlethal weaponry, and a heavily-stylized 1960's automobile, all matching a particular theme that varies each time SCP-8210 enters. A majority of larger, empty city buildings entered by SCP-8210 becoming abandoned warehouses filled with nondescript and generic wooden and cardboard boxes. These buildings will typically have various long chains and ropes hanging from the ceiling that seem to serve no functional purpose. A skyscraper having a majority of floors transformed into laboratories or a series of long hallways. The last five floors were transformed into a single penthouse apartment doubling as a headquarters, including a security room receiving camera feeds from every floor, an ornate desk featuring a button-activated trapdoor in front of it, and a large balcony overlooking the city. Containment cells becoming traditional prison cells. These typically include floor-to-ceiling bars with 0.3-meter spacing and a large padlock. People affected by SCP-8210 will have their behavior, speech patterns, and outfits altered to match stereotypical characters a superhero may interact with. These individuals will often have their physical abilities and skills altered to match the stereotypical role they fill. Any changes will revert when SCP-8210 is no longer within a certain, fluctuating range of these individuals or is no longer consciously aware of them. Any changes that occur during the anomalous alterations will remain.1 Some examples include but are not limited to: Foundation MTF members having their outfits transformed into brightly colored tights with matching eye masks. When engaging with SCP-8210, these MTF members have been shown to follow the rules of mook chivalry.2 Law enforcement officers attempting to contact SCP-8210 to handle both real and nonexistent crimes on their behalf. This behavior is often accompanied by a red rotary phone appearing somewhere in the police precinct which will always call the cellphone of SCP-8210 regardless of what number is dialed. Individuals engaging in coordinated criminal activity having their outfits changed to either brightly colored tights or stereotypical black and white striped clothing. These individuals will typically either shift their criminal goals to something more absurd or will go about their previous criminal endeavors in an absurd fashion. Recovery Log: SCP-8210 was first discovered on 03/22/2021. News footage was being broadcast of a bank robbery happening in San Diego, California. The robbers were dressed in matching bright purple long-sleeve sweaters, black pants, black beanies, and black masks over their eyes. They were brandishing bright purple walking canes as if they were assault rifles. Footage showed two of the robbers spraying bright yellow smoke from the canes. Those who the gas reached appeared to fall unconscious, with many of them tilting back and placing the back of their hand on their forehead first. This was enough on its own to warrant dispatching Foundation agents to investigate. Arriving agents witnessed SCP-8210 combatting the criminals. SCP-8210 appeared annoyed and was heard complaining and loudly sighing during the fight. The criminals displayed an unusual lack of physical coordination, some tripping over nothing and others accidentally punching their allies with wild haymakers. Each criminal seemed to fall unconscious after falling once or receiving a single punch, kick, or shove from either SCP-8210 or their allies. Agents disguised as local law enforcement apprehended SCP-8210 at the conclusion of the fight. SCP-8210 came willingly and commented that he was unsure if he would be awarded the key to the city by the mayor or if he would be gently scolded for taking the law into his own hands. All other individuals involved were amnestisized, and a cover story about a flash mob was spread due to the highly public nature of the incident. Post-Recovery Interview Log Post-Recovery Interview Log Interviewed: SCP-8210 Interviewee: Dr. Harcroft <Begin log> Dr. Harcroft: Please state your name for the record. <SCP-8210 sighs and massages his temples> SCP-8210: I take it you're not really cops? Dr. Harcroft: No, we are not. Now, please state your name for the record. SCP-8210: So, what is this? Are you a minon? A goon? You work for some big bad math teacher or something? Dr. Harcroft: Pardon me, but what makes you think we work for a math teacher? SCP-8210: I don't know. I just saw the real geometric symbol on everyone's costumes. There's always a theme. Sometimes it's ice, sometimes it's jungle, this one time it was glowsticks, which was admittedly pretty funny. I figured maybe y'all's theme was math. Dr. Harcroft: I assure you, we are not in costume and we do not work for an evil mathematician. <SCP-8210 waves his hands apologetically> SCP-8210: You can't blame me for being suspicious. This kinda stuff has been happening to me a lot lately. So you're not regular law enforcement, but you're not comic book supervillains. That begs the question: who are you guys and why am I here? Dr. Harcroft: Our organization deals with the anomalous, and we have reason to believe you are anomalous in some way. Now, for the last time, please state your name for the record. SCP-8210: Jeez, sorry, calm down, will ya? My name's Max Mayfield. So, what are you guys? Is this like Men in Black, but for anything weird instead of just aliens? <Dr. Harcroft shrugs> Dr. Harcroft: I suppose that's actually pretty accurate. I will say, though, we tend not to kill or destroy as often as Will Smith and Harvey Lee Jones. SCP-8210: What do you mean, tend not to? That's not making me feel real confident about being here. Dr. Harcroft: Your presence here is not optional, I am afraid. I can assure you that as long as you do not try to actively harm anyone, you will be perfectly safe. We simply wish to understand what you are and how you do what you do so that we can prevent it from happening moving forward. SCP-8210: I would actually love that. Honestly, I don't know why this stuff keeps happening to me. It's pretty annoying, though, and if you guys can make it stop, I'd be in your debt. Dr. Harcroft: How long has this been a problem for you? SCP-8210: I dunno. I really started noticing maybe a month ago, but who's to say if it hasn't been happening for longer? Dr. Harcroft: I see. And do you have any idea what triggers these events? SCP-8210: I don't. They just happen. I'll be going about my normal day, and then suddenly it's not so normal. My basement looks like a cheap knockoff of the Bat Cave. I tried to go out for some drinks with my buddies one time and wound up in a bar fight where every table and chair shattered into pieces at the slightest touch. I've never seriously gotten hurt or anything, but it's just all so stupid, you know? I remember watching Adam West's Batman growing up. Did you ever watch it? Dr. Harcroft: I am familiar with it, but I can't say I've ever actively watched it. SCP-8210: I did. When I was a little kid, it would be on TV sometimes. One episode a week, and then you'd have to wait. Same bat-time, same bat-channel. SCP-8210 chuckles. I remember taking it so seriously. The drama, the dangerous traps, the villains, all of it felt very real and serious to me. I came back to it as an adult, and let me tell you, it's all so fucking stupid. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love that shit, but there's nothing serious about it. It's stupid but in a funny way. Well, I guess I used to love it I should say. Once I started living it, it stopped being funny. Dr. Harcroft: I see, I see. Let's get back on track. I have some more questions for you. <The camera feed is lost for 0.5 seconds. When it resumes, Dr. Harcroft is now dressed in a full police uniform and sports dark aviator sunglasses and a thick mustache.> <Dr. Harcroft bangs his fists on the desk.> Dr. Harcroft: Who do you think you are, taking the law into your own hands? You think you're better than us? You think you're tough? I bet you're not so tough under that mask. SCP-8210: Jeez. I'm not even wearing… You know, I was really hoping this wouldn't happen. <SCP-8210 stands up and approaches the door. Dr. Harcroft pulls out a police baton and blocks SCP-8210's exit. Dr. Harcroft swings the baton and misses, striking the table instead. The baton bounces off the table and hits Dr. Harcroft in the head, causing him to collapse. SCP-8210 shakes his head, pats down Dr. Harcroft, retrieves the Doctor’s ID, and exits the room.> <END LOG> Incident 8210-1: Initial Post-Recovery Escape Incident 8210-1: Security Log <Security camera footage shows SCP-8210 exiting the interview room and slowly walking down a hallway. Lights flash and an alarm siren blares.3SCP-8210 shakes his head as he continues walking down the hallway.> <SCP-8210 enters Site 230's cafeteria. 36 Foundation agents were present at the time.> SCP-8210: God-fucking-dammit. Are we cool, or does this have to be a whole thing? <Foundation agents stand up, surround SCP-8210, and raise their fists.4One of the agents later identified as Bartholomew Rodriguez speaks.> Agent Rodriguez: We have you surrounded. It's over. SCP-8210: We have you surrounded. It's over. Blah, blah, blah, whatever. Let's just get this over with. <Each agent approaches SCP-8210 one at a time to fight him while the rest engage in shadow boxing. SCP-8210 dispatches each agent with minimal effort.5> <An agent sporting full tactical body armor, later identified as Agent Laura Watson, kicks in the cafeteria door.> SCP-8210: Oh what now? <Agent Watson draws a large hunting knife and performs a series of flips, cartwheels, and backflips toward SCP-8210.6Agent Watson stops approximately 3 meters away from SCP-8210. Agent Watson tosses the knife between her hands several times and performs a series of stylized slashes and stabs.> SCP-8210: Ugh. There's always one. <Agent Watson makes multiple attempts to stab and slash SCP-8210. SCP-8210 backpedals and narrowly avoids the attacks. Agent Watson slashes across SCP-8210's face, creating a small cut under SCP-8210's right cheek. A Single drop of blood rolls down SCP-8210's face, which he wipes off with his finger.> <SCP-8210 winces and recoils.> SCP-8210: Alright, you got your one good hit in. <SCP-8210 clears his throat> It's my turn now. <SCP-8210 uppercuts Agent Watson. This seems to stun her, and she stumbles back. SCP-8210 follows up with a series of slow, weak punches which nonetheless all connect. Agent Hernandez reacts as if the punches packed significant force. After a second uppercut, Agent Hernandez collapses to the floor.> <SCP-8210 spends the next 5 minutes removing Agent Watson's body armor and helmet and donning it himself. The armor is noticeably large for SCP-8210. SCP-8210 successfully exits Site 230 without raising the suspicions of any of the agents, doctors, and other site staff that he passes.> Addendum 8210-R: Recontainment Attempts Addendum 8210-R: Recontainment Attempts Multiple attempts have been made at recontaining SCP-8210. The longest successful containment of SCP-8210 at present time is approximately 4 hours. Below is a summary of various attempts. Several have been left out in favor of highlighting unique attempts that best demonstrate the potential risks and difficulties associated with recontainment and long-term containment efforts. SCP-8210 was successfully apprehended by Foundation agents and placed in a cell. During a brief glitch in the security camera observing the cell, it was transformed into a traditional barred cell as described previously in this document. An agent slowly walked past while whistling, allowing SCP-8210 to grab the agent, slam his head against the bars, and retrieve a large brass key from the unconscious agent. SCP-8210 swapped clothes with the agent, bound and gagged him using the agent's undershirt and socks, and successfully exited the facility. The agent was discovered grunting through his gag approximately 2 hours later. SCP-8210 was unable to be located on-site and security footage showed SCP-8210 walking around a corner and disappearing. MTF Pi-1 "City Slickers" was dispatched to San Diego, California to recontain SCP-8210. Upon engaging with SCP-8210, MTF members had their clothing transformed into pinstripe suits and fedoras. Audio recordings indicate that the MTF members spoke with an exaggerated Bronx accent during this time. SCP-8210 easily dispatched several MTF members after first asking if "this could be done another day". After the third MTF member was dispatched, one of the MTF members shouted, "Let's get outta here, boys!" prompting the remaining members to flee. Agents lured SCP-8210 to an abandoned warehouse where they then planned to apprehend him. This attempt was disrupted by anomalous alterations to the warehouse and interference from an individual calling themself "The Embezzler". The warehouse was transformed to include a maze, multiple large television screens with attached speakers featuring The Embezzler, and a Rube Goldberg machine that, upon completion, would have released a large collection of nickels, dimes, and pennies weighing a combined total of over 10 tons. Agents became trapped in the maze upon entering the warehouse and having the doors automatically shut and lock behind them. SCP-8210 successfully exited the maze and stopped the machine approximately 0.5 seconds prior to its completion. SCP-8210 reportedly held out his hands and told agents, "You're welcome," before exiting the warehouse.7 SCP-8210 was successfully apprehended and contained at Site 230. During containment, Site Director Johnston had a conversation with Doctor Evelyn Grace regarding a reduction in Doctor Grace's salary. This incident is believed to have resembled a "damsel-in-distress" scenario and activated SCP-8210's anomalous ability. A more complete overview of Incident 8210-2 is available in this document. Incident 8210-2: Security Log Incident 8210-2: Security Log <Security camera footage shows the cell containing SCP-8210. A guard approaches the cell, looks through the glass window of the cell door and reacts with shock.> Guard: What? Where is he? <The guard proceeds to open the cell and enter. Once the guard has reached the back of the cell, SCP-8210 steps out from the right corner behind the door. He calmly approaches the guard and karate-chops the back of the guard's neck. The guard collapses to the floor.> <Security cameras and audio recording devices sitewide experience simultaneous failure for 3.2 seconds. Upon resuming function, a majority of Site 230 and its personnel are unchanged with the exception of Director Johnston’s office and the surrounding area. Director Johnston is now dressed in a bulky red outfit, golden cape, a stylized black military general cap, and two large golden shoulder pauldrons resembling lions. Dr. Grace is now dressed in a blue blazer, blue dress pants, and a low-cut blouse. A name badge hanging around her neck identified her as Lucy Lebeaux, a reporter for the “Foundation Tribune”. All Foundation personnel within a 30-meter radius of the Director’s office are now clad in bulky red outfits matching Director Johnston’s.> <Several of the altered personnel entered the office and proceeded to tie up Dr. Grace with a large length of rope by running around her with it until it covers the length of her body.> Dr. Grace: You’ll never get away with this, Doctor Destruction. Director Johnston: With an exaggerated German Accent I already have. Oh, minions! <Director Johnston snaps his fingers. One of the costumed Foundation personnel, henceforth referred to in this document as minions, produces a bandana and gags Dr. Grace. She is pushed out of the room and out of view of security cameras by several minions.> <Director Johnston returns to his desk and activates the PA system.> Director Johnston: Why, hello there SCP-8210, or shall I say, Max Mayfield? That's right, I know your secret identity. I take it that you are here to defeat me and to rescue your precious Lucy Lebeaux? Such a silly reporter, sticking her nose where it does not belong. <SCP-8210 buries his face in his hands for several seconds.> SCP-8210: Aw, come on! I'm guessing I won't be able to leave unless I deal with you first. You can hear me, right? Director Johnston: That's right, my little wunderkind. You are in my lair, the lair of Doctor Destruction. There shall be no escape this time. Muahahahaha! Go, my minions. Destroy this dummkopf. <SCP-8210 makes his way through the site while grumbling to himself. After 2 minutes, 4 members of site security reach SCP-8210 and point assault rifles at him.> SCP-8210: Are you guys yourselves? I really don't wanna fight anyone I don't have to. <One of the guards, later identified as Security Officer Daniel Bronson, steps forward.> Officer Bronson: SCP-8210, cease all anomalous activity and return to your containment cell immediately. SCP-8210: I can't control this. I guess you guys didn't know. I can't make this stop on a whim. If I could, then I would and this bullshit would never happen. Whatever's happening, the only way I've ever made it stop is by playing out the scenario. Why don't you put those guns away and let me pass? <The guards do not respond nor do they lower their weapons> SCP-8210: Look, I take it you guys have some serious stuff locked up here, right? Stuff that's way more dangerous than me? And I doubt having a supervillain on site is very helpful. Why don't you let me take care of this before this mess spirals out of control and something dangerous gets out? <There are several seconds of silence during which none of the present individuals move.> Officer Bronson: Alright, but we are gonna be with you the whole time, and it's straight back to your cell after this. SCP-8210: I wouldn't join me if I were you. Superheroes always work alone or with other superheroes, so it might mess things up. For all I know, I'm supposed to be giving a speech about working alone right now. Officer Bronson: Who's to say we don't count as superheroes? Plus, we know where the Director's office is and can guide you there. SCP-8210: You guys definitely are not superheroes. Look, there's no way I'm letting you shitheads come with me. The only way I've avoided getting myself and others seriously hurt is by playing by the rules of the genre. I don't make those rules. I just follow them, so sorry, not sorry, out of my way. Officer Bronson: If we have to work within the genre, then maybe we're good to go. Every superhero has normal people who sometimes help them, and the help always comes after an argument where the superhero refuses help. Maybe this could be one of those situations where the story shows ordinary people can still make a difference. I think this fulfills those genre expectations. <SCP-8210 throws his hands up in defeat.> SCP-8210: Dammit, fine. You win. Let's go. <SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers make their way through the site toward Director Johnston's office. Ten minutes go by without any interactions with other personnel.> Officer Bronson: It's quiet. Too quiet. <At that moment, the lights go out around SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers.> SCP-8210: You fucking idiot. <The lights turn back on. SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers have been surrounded by 15 minions armed with assault rifles.> Minon 1: Drop the weapons. <The 4 security officers slowly place their assault rifles on the floor. SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers place their hands behind their heads while the minons retrieve the weapons. One of them pokes SCP-8210 in the back with his rifle.> Minon 13: Move it. The boss has a lot to say to you folks. <SCP-8210 and the 4 security officers are led at gunpoint to Director Johnston's office. Once inside, a majority of minons exit, leaving behind only 2. Director Johnston is sitting behind his desk facing backward.> <Director Johnston slowly spins around his office chair to face them.> Director Johnston: I've been expecting you, SCP-8210. <SCP-8210 shows high levels of frustration and attempts to pull his own hair out.> SCP-8210: Oh my fucking god, are you kidding me? That little spin thing was probably the most cliche thing that's happened to me since this all started. Now, can we fight and get it over with, Doctor Destruction? <Director Johnston wags his finger.> Director Johnston: Not so fast, mein little boy blunder. <Director Johnston retrieves a large remote with an antenna and a single red button from beneath his desk. He gestures to his office window. Outside, Doctor Grace is tied up and hanging upside down over a pool of bubbling liquid.> Director Johnston: Let's not make any sudden moves, or else your precious Lucy Lebeaux dies. SCP-8210: Jesus, fuck. Let me guess, boiling acid? When did that even get here? I mean, I've never met that woman in my life, but let's maybe not kill people, okay? Director Johnston: Who are you to tell me what to do? You are my prisoner, SCP-8210. <SCP-8210 turns around, grabs the 2 minons, and weakly shoves them. Both minons are pushed much further than would be expected before collapsing.> SCP-8210: Alright, guys, let's arrest him or whatever and get this over with. <Two of the security officers present retrieved the assault rifles from the minons. They point the rifles at SCP-8210. They each use one hand to rip off their suits, which are shown to be fake, velcroed pull-off outfits. All 4 are shown to have been wearing minion outfits underneath despite the minion outfits being substantially bulkier and larger than their outerwear.> Officer Bronson: Sorry, kid. Turns out the real trope was that your new allies secretly worked for the bad guy the whole time. <Director Johnston pushes the button on his remote. Doctor Grace slowly lowers toward the boiling liquid.8 > Director Johnston: I warned you, and now you must face the consequences. <SCP-8210 lunges at Director Johnston. One of the security officers fires at SCP-8210 and hits his torso. SCP-8210 falls to the ground.> SCP-8210: Oh sweet Jesus, oh fuck, that fucking hurts! God-dammit! You fucking shot me! What the fuck? I've never been hurt during one of these. Oh, sweet Jesus, oh fuck, oh fuck. <SCP-8210 tries to stand, but stumbles and falls. SCP-8210 attempts to stand again, and this time is successful.> Director Johnston: I admire the fight in you, SCP-8210. Most others would have given up. What keeps you going? Why do you still fight? SCP-8210: Jesus-fucking-Christ, this hurts, but I gotta finish it. <SCP-8210 holds up one finger as if to request Director Johnston waits.> Just give me a moment. Ah, fuck. I gotta make the speech, I'm just a little out of breath. <SCP-8210 takes several deep inhales.> Okay, okay. I fight because I gotta, right? And I know I'll be fine because heroes always power through wounds like this and only collapse once they're safe and the fight's over. Maybe its the adrenaline from the gunshot, but I think I'm actually enjoying this for once. We gotta make the most out of life, right? Did that come out right? Aw, fuck it, who cares. <SCP-8210 charges at Director Johnston, leaps over the desk, and tackles him to the floor. Agents fire at SCP-8210, but miss and instead shatter the office window. SCP-8210 grabs the remote from Director Johnston and throws it at one of the agents. The remote hits the agent in the head, causing him to collapse. SCP-8210 leaps out of the window while a second agent fires at him. The agent misses, but a stray bullet hits the rope holding up Dr. Grace. The frayed rope manages to hold long enough for SCP-8210 to jump over the pool of boiling liquid, catching the falling Dr. Grace as he does so.> Dr. Grace: My hero. SCP-8210: Whatever. <SCP-8210 drops Dr. Grace on the floor. He looks down at his bloodstained shirt and feels around.> SCP-8210: Whaddaya know. Hey Lucy, what do you weigh? <Dr. Grace giggles> Dr. Grace: Now, you can't ask a woman a question like that, lover boy. SCP-8210: I, uh, yeah, I think that would be assault if I tried anything, but anyways. <SCP-8210 bends over and picks up Dr. Grace with ease.> It's just that I've never been to a gym in my life. <SCP-8210 drops Dr. Grace again. He proceeds to pat himself down around the location of his previous gunshot wound. Camera footage shows no sign of injury.> Dr. Grace: Will I ever see you again? SCP-8210: I sure fucking hope not. <SCP-8210 walks off and around a corner. Security cameras and audio recorders sitewide fail for 10 seconds. Upon resuming function, all anomalous changes from SCP-8210 appear to have reverted to normal. SCP-8210 was no longer on site.> Footnotes 1. For example, any injuries sustained during the alteration will remain. 2. Behavior exhibited by enemies and combatants in fiction where individuals act in a way that best serves the story and will allow the hero to stand a fair chance of succeeding. The most famous example is the set walking patterns of enemies in Super Mario. 3. Records show that no personnel nor automated system activated any alarms. 4. 14 agents present were confirmed to have firearms and/or nonlethal stunguns on them at the time. None of them chose to make use of them in any capacity. 5. All 36 agents were unconscious upon recovery, but none of them had sustained any injuries sufficient to cause loss of consciousness. 6. Agent Watson has not demonstrated this level of acrobatic talent before or after this incident. 7. Local businesses since the incident have reported small but statistically significant descrepencies in their quarterly revenue reports since this incident. "The Embezzler" has been labled as a potential Person of Interest and has not been apprehended at this time. 8. It is estimated that it would have taken approximately 30 minutes for her to reach the liquid at her rate of descent. |
SCP-8211 | keter | Item#: 8211 Level3 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Currently, the Foundation has 132 individuals around the world flagged and monitored as potential SCP-8211 victims. If a flagged potential victim is confirmed to be one, Foundation operatives are to contact them as soon as possible to inform them on their situation and provide them with guidance on how to safely answer SCP-8211's questions. Once a victim wakes up after answering SCP-8211's question, the results of the subsequently occurring series of events are to be logged and every individual involved must be administered Class B amnestics. Foundation web crawlers are to constantly monitor social media apps and news outlets for key words indicative of SCP-8211 activity. For a list of approved "safe answers" which can be used during oneiric encounters with SCP-8211, consult Document 8211-S. Photograph of an SCP-8211 instance taken from one of the albums of Isaak Vadimovich. Description: SCP-8211 designates individual members of a disorganized group of intangible humanoid entities of unknown origin. Because of their incorporeal nature; instances of SCP-8211 are difficult to detect, making the approximate size of their total population obscure. Even though only 637 SCP-8211 sightings by either civilians, Foundation personnel or members of other groups related to the anomalous have been confirmed to this date; the actual number of SCP-8211 instances actively circuiting the world undetected at any time is most likely much higher than this count. Once detected, SCP-8211 can be easily identified thanks to several characteristics shared by every instance encountered so far. The most noticeable characteristics of SCP-8211 are their unorthodox facial features. All SCP-8211 instances captured on camera or film to this date have either lacked facial features entirely or displayed heavily disfigured ones. SCP-8211 appear otherwise anatomically identical to non-anomalous humans. Humans are incapable of observing SCP-8211 with the naked eye. Instances of SCP-8211 can only be observed when captured on photographs or film. Instances which have been captured on film often begin to display erratic behavior after being observed for prolonged amounts of time, such as attempting to hide in their victim's blind spots to avoid being seen or becoming hostile and attempting to damage the device they're being recorded on. It is unknown if non-human animals can visually detect SCP-8211, although numerous pet owners haunted by SCP-8211 instances have reported their household pets occasionally becoming agitated and aggressive seemingly without provocation. These spontaneous fits of aggression could indicate some animals (such as domestic dogs and house cats) are capable of detecting SCP-8211's presence.1 All attempts to physically engage with an SCP-8211 instance have failed and will usually be met with hostility from the entity. SCP-8211 on the other hand are able to physically interact with and manipulate their surroundings at will, although they will usually avoid doing this to not make their presence known. SCP-8211 are not predatory entities, although they will often stalk a single individual for an extended period of time and inflict psychological torture by disrupting their victims' sleep via oneiric manifestations. Most SCP-8211 instances can remain undetected for years and will only manifest to their victims in recurring lucid dreams wherein they will demand answer for a specific inquiry. The only known way to ward off an instance of SCP-8211 is to provide an answer for this question, although doing so can have unpredictable and harmful results. Addendum 8211.01: Over 1,300 deaths, disappearances, thefts, break-ins and various other criminal cases have been linked or suspected of being linked to SCP-8211 since 1936. The rate of SCP-8211 sightings has seen a massive increase with the invention and advance of surveillance technology, leading to more aggressive behaviors on SCP-8211's part. An extremely high (presumably between 5,000 and 100,000) number of audio distortion and camera malfunction incidents are suspected of being caused by SCP-8211 every year. Even though no advancements have been made on physically containing SCP-82112, the aforementioned developments have made it easier for the Foundation to flag and observe individuals targeted by SCP-8211 entities. Using recovered data, Foundation analysts have determined a rough pattern in how SCP-8211 select and harrass their victims. For more information, refer to the logs attached below. Victim Designation: Case #8211-333 Name: Myaukin Isaak Vadimovich Status: Former Doctor of Philosophy specializing in ontology at Khakassian State University named after N. F. Katanov, Abakan, Russia; deceased at age 63 Relevant Notes: Dr. Vadimovich was found to have died in their sleep on 21/06/1968. Post-mortem examination showed Vadimovich's skull was empty of any brain tissue. The forensic doctors also reported that the subject's cadaver lacked a central nervous system, which was determined to be the cause of death. Investigation of Dr. Vadimovich's private journal and photo albums confirmed that not only were they a victim of SCP-8211, but were also aware of the nature of their situation for more than three years. All evidence suggests Vadimovich kept this secret from their close ones for years, fearing SCP-8211 might hurt them if they revealed the truth. The contents of their journals provided insight into Vadimovich's internal dialogues over the years, most of them were focused on finding an answer to SCP-8211's question. Victim Designation: Case #8211-534 Name: Maxi Diemer Status: Currently alive and aged 37; residing within a mental health institution in Stuttgart, Germany Relevant Notes: Mr. Diemer reportedly had been frequently experiencing recurring lucid nightmares involving a "faceless man" since age 14 and seeking psychiatric help to alleviate the stress caused by these dreams. During interviews with undercover Foundation operatives, Diemer's high school teachers described Diemer as a highly reclusive but intelligent student with a particular interest in philosophy classes. Diemer's high school philosophy teacher stated that he was heavily influenced by Cartesian philosophy and interviews with Diemer's parents as well as inspections of his book collections further evidenced his interest in the work of French philosopher Descartes.3 Mr. Diemer was diagnosed with clinical insanity caused by a previously undiagnosed neurological disorder in the aftermath of the events of 10/11/2002. On the morning of that day, Diemer woke up from his sleep and alarmed his parents, apparently distressed. Diemer's mother later recalled during an interview that Diemer was "speaking with phrases that sounded like words but had no real meaning". All subsequent attempts to communicate with Diemer failed. Diemer refused to communicate through writing and did not appear to be able to decipher both spoken and written sentences. A Foundation disseminated hoax propogated the rumour that Diemer's condition was caused by a brain injury which occurred in the womb. Victim Designation: Case #8211-535 Name: Dayananda Upandhye Status: An Indian Hindu mystic of mysterious origin who taught a small group of around 20 disciples and formed the monastic Upandhye Order in 2007 which doesn't exist today; whether he's alive or deceased is entirely unknown Relevant Notes: Between 2007 and 2010, Upandhye supposedly lead an indeterminate number of disciples who all believed he was a divine incarnation (avatar). Upandhye's teachings were vastly different from orthodox Hindu philosophies. Even though there are no official records that support the existence of either Upandhye himself or an underground religious order which adhered to his beliefs, one of his claimed former disciples became an attendee of the University of Mumbai in 2014 and provided literary evidence of the Upandhye Order's ideologies to one of his professors. A number of various literary works attributed to Upandhye have been discovered since, most of these contain references to "faceless demons unlike any sunyavadi known from the ancient scriptures" and "incorporeal beings who seek to understand and be what we are". In their personal memoirs, one of his claimed former pupils wrote that Upandhye's order was dissolved after he was found dead one morning with "a hole located where his heart should've been, as if something had ripped it right through his chest and took it". The same scripture also claims that Upandhye had "finally found an answer to the question he was tired of being asked again and again, and with that, so had the spirits who haunted him". Victim Designation: Case #8211-536 Name: Bonnie Lawrence Status: A female escort living in London, England described by several peers and customers as a person who "knows men better than anyone"4 but otherwise not worthy of note; currently alive and aged 32 Relevant Notes: On the morning of 01/01/2015 at around 8 o'clock; Ms. Lawrence and a male customer of hers, an English man named Deacon George, woke up in the same motel room in London. Mr. George complained of a mild pain between his legs upon waking up and subsequently found that they had been castrated in their sleep despite the fact that no wounds had been inflicted upon their flesh. He later unsuccessfully sued Ms. Lawrence for assault. In court, Lawrence claimed she was visited by a "grossly disfigured man" during her sleep the night prior and asked a question. Upon answering this question, she immediately woke up next to Mr. George oblivious to any events which may have transpired while they were both sleeping. All records of the court case were seized by the Foundation. Every person involved with this incident were amnesticized, and Mr. George has since resumed his life as a eunuch. A cover story which propagated the false claim that Mr. George was ambushed and violently assaulted by a mentally disturbed assailant shortly after exiting the motel during the early hours of 01/01/2015 was disseminated to explain his condition. Mr. George's memories were altered via amnestic treatment to validate this story. D-3123, who had been diagnosed with depressive psychosis, was framed and persecuted for physically assaulting and mutilating George. Ms. Lawrence has claimed to never have experienced similar dreams prior to this incident. Victim Designation: Case #8211-537 Name: Date Machi Status: A midwife formerly living in a rural residence in Kyoto, Japan; currently alive and aged 46 Relevant Notes: See the interview log attached below. Addendum 8211.02: Interview Excerpt from Log #8211-436-A Interviewer: Dr. Su Nara Interviewee: Mrs. Date Machi [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Su: Hello Mrs. Date and good afternoon. I was told you are in a good enough mood for an interview today. How are you feeling? Mrs. Date: Better. I'm still trying to digest everything that happened. It's just… Dr. Su: Too much? I completely understand that. We can stop this interview the moment you feel that you can't continue. Mrs. Date: I… I think I'll be fine. Mrs. Date takes a sip from the glass of water sitting in front of her. She swallows and lets out a sigh. Mrs. Date: Alright. Alright then. What do you need to know? Dr. Su: You stated before that you believe the noppera-bō5 are responsible for the… let's say the "incident" which occurred in your house roughly five days ago. Mrs. Date: It's simply the most logical explanation. All the doors and windows were locked and they hadn't been forced. It wasn't a regular break-in. It couldn't have been the work of a man. Dr. Su: Have you personally encountered these entities yourself? Mrs. Date: I had suspicions before I even started having the dreams! There were bugs all over the house, insecticides did not do anything to repel them. Mosquitos, flies, bees, an absolute nightmare. But they weren't there to bother us. They were attracted to something else, you could tell it when you tried to swing at them with a broom and you could hear very faint footsteps afterwards. My husband and children cared only about the insects but I knew there was something there, something bigger and something very paranoid. Dr. Su: Did you say anything about this to your family? Mrs. Date: Not until I started having the dreams. Dr. Su: What can you tell me about these dreams? Mrs. Date: They started around two months ago. I had one everytime I went to sleep, I couldn't dream about anything else. And the dreams were long, much longer than your average dreams. And the worst part is, even after I woke up I could still remember everything vividly. The image of those people's faces were engraved in my brain! I eventually became too afraid to fall asleep. I used to lie in bed holding a heavy book in my hand so that the sound it made after falling kept me awake as long as possible. Dr. Su: What was it about these dreams that made them so traumatic? Mrs. Date: The questions. Oh, all those awful, repetitive questions. My husband became too afraid of me to even sleep with me in the same bed because I had started to scream in my sleep. I was begging, begging for them to say something else, anything other than the same question over and over again, for them to let me wake up. They just refused to accept I didn't have the answers they wanted. Dr. Su: But you eventually did find an answer, right? Is that… Isn't that why they… Mrs. Date is silent and distraught. Dr. Su: I'm sorry, did I go too far? Mrs. Date: I loved my family. I loved them more than anything else. Dr. Su: …Okay? Mrs. Date: I don't think you understand how awful those dreams truly were. Everything was just a pitch black darkness. There was a weight on my chest as if someone was poking me with a gun. The thing's face was this close to mine and I could feel its breath. It was foul, it smelled like the guy's stomach was full of dead insects. I just could not escape the smell of dead insects. I couldn't focus on my life anymore. Everyday- Dr. Su: I feel like we're going a bit off-topic here- Mrs. Date: -EVERY DAY, I had to wake up and spend my day cleaning dead flies on the floor, picking up squashed insects from the windows. On top of that, I could feel my loved ones slipping away from me, getting progressively more worried about me and more scared of me, of the things I believed. They had to be true, they… they couldn't know how it was like having it as hard as I had. Dr. Su: That's- Mrs. Date: Do you know what the question was? The thing those spirits kept asking me? It was… it… Mrs. Date takes a deep breath and closes their eyes. Mrs. Date: "What is the thing that makes a man what he is?" Mrs. Date opens her eyes again. Mrs. Date: I asked myself what that could mean. Over and over and over and over again. And one day, it just clicked. The spirit wanted to be what I was. A human. An actual person, a man. It wanted to know what it had to have to be a real, actual man who could walk the planet like everyone else did. Once I figured that out, I began feeling sympathetic for it, in a way. Mrs. Date wipes their eyes, holding back tears. Dr. Su: What… what did you tell it? Mrs. Date looks down and begins sobbing. Dr. Su: Mrs. Date, what did you tell the spirit? Mrs. Date: I… I told it what I believed. I looked at it where its eyes were supposed to be and I said "family". "Their family is the thing that makes a person who they are". And I meant it. But I couldn't have… couldn't have predicted that I would wake up that morning and find my house completely empty. I couldn't have predicted that it would've taken my family. I didn't want any of this. Please, I… I miss them so much… Mrs. Date resumes sobbing. Dr. Su promptly terminates the interview. Mrs. Date is escorted back to her quarters. [END LOG] ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8211" by alanthechair, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8211. 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: nofacecharlie.jpg Name: nofacecharlie.jpg Author: Anonymous License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Black_and_white_photographs_of_Elektrostal._img-03.jpg Additional Notes: Image is cropped Footnotes 1. Additionally, some flying insects (such as flies, bees and butterflies) can be attracted to the presence of SCP-8211. These animals can make an SCP-8211 instance's presence known to humans by frequently moving in circles around it, although they do not appear to have the ability to interact with them physically. SCP-8211 do not appear to be bothered by these entities. 2. Incorporeal Entity Vacuum Chambers have no effect on SCP-8211. 3. EDITOR'S NOTE: This data has been flagged as significant by the SCP-8211 analytics research team. Any edit requests to remove it from official documentation on the basis of irrelevance will be denied. 4. EDITOR'S NOTE: This data has been flagged as significant by the SCP-8211 analytics research team. Any edit requests to remove it from official documentation on the basis of irrelevance will be denied. 5. Japanese yōkai which resemble faceless humans. |
SCP-8211 | uncontained | Item#: 8211 Level3 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Currently, the Foundation has 132 individuals around the world flagged and monitored as potential SCP-8211 victims. If a flagged potential victim is confirmed to be one, Foundation operatives are to contact them as soon as possible to inform them on their situation and provide them with guidance on how to safely answer SCP-8211's questions. Once a victim wakes up after answering SCP-8211's question, the results of the subsequently occurring series of events are to be logged and every individual involved must be administered Class B amnestics. Foundation web crawlers are to constantly monitor social media apps and news outlets for key words indicative of SCP-8211 activity. For a list of approved "safe answers" which can be used during oneiric encounters with SCP-8211, consult Document 8211-S. Photograph of an SCP-8211 instance taken from one of the albums of Isaak Vadimovich. Description: SCP-8211 designates individual members of a disorganized group of intangible humanoid entities of unknown origin. Because of their incorporeal nature; instances of SCP-8211 are difficult to detect, making the approximate size of their total population obscure. Even though only 637 SCP-8211 sightings by either civilians, Foundation personnel or members of other groups related to the anomalous have been confirmed to this date; the actual number of SCP-8211 instances actively circuiting the world undetected at any time is most likely much higher than this count. Once detected, SCP-8211 can be easily identified thanks to several characteristics shared by every instance encountered so far. The most noticeable characteristics of SCP-8211 are their unorthodox facial features. All SCP-8211 instances captured on camera or film to this date have either lacked facial features entirely or displayed heavily disfigured ones. SCP-8211 appear otherwise anatomically identical to non-anomalous humans. Humans are incapable of observing SCP-8211 with the naked eye. Instances of SCP-8211 can only be observed when captured on photographs or film. Instances which have been captured on film often begin to display erratic behavior after being observed for prolonged amounts of time, such as attempting to hide in their victim's blind spots to avoid being seen or becoming hostile and attempting to damage the device they're being recorded on. It is unknown if non-human animals can visually detect SCP-8211, although numerous pet owners haunted by SCP-8211 instances have reported their household pets occasionally becoming agitated and aggressive seemingly without provocation. These spontaneous fits of aggression could indicate some animals (such as domestic dogs and house cats) are capable of detecting SCP-8211's presence.1 All attempts to physically engage with an SCP-8211 instance have failed and will usually be met with hostility from the entity. SCP-8211 on the other hand are able to physically interact with and manipulate their surroundings at will, although they will usually avoid doing this to not make their presence known. SCP-8211 are not predatory entities, although they will often stalk a single individual for an extended period of time and inflict psychological torture by disrupting their victims' sleep via oneiric manifestations. Most SCP-8211 instances can remain undetected for years and will only manifest to their victims in recurring lucid dreams wherein they will demand answer for a specific inquiry. The only known way to ward off an instance of SCP-8211 is to provide an answer for this question, although doing so can have unpredictable and harmful results. Addendum 8211.01: Over 1,300 deaths, disappearances, thefts, break-ins and various other criminal cases have been linked or suspected of being linked to SCP-8211 since 1936. The rate of SCP-8211 sightings has seen a massive increase with the invention and advance of surveillance technology, leading to more aggressive behaviors on SCP-8211's part. An extremely high (presumably between 5,000 and 100,000) number of audio distortion and camera malfunction incidents are suspected of being caused by SCP-8211 every year. Even though no advancements have been made on physically containing SCP-82112, the aforementioned developments have made it easier for the Foundation to flag and observe individuals targeted by SCP-8211 entities. Using recovered data, Foundation analysts have determined a rough pattern in how SCP-8211 select and harrass their victims. For more information, refer to the logs attached below. Victim Designation: Case #8211-333 Name: Myaukin Isaak Vadimovich Status: Former Doctor of Philosophy specializing in ontology at Khakassian State University named after N. F. Katanov, Abakan, Russia; deceased at age 63 Relevant Notes: Dr. Vadimovich was found to have died in their sleep on 21/06/1968. Post-mortem examination showed Vadimovich's skull was empty of any brain tissue. The forensic doctors also reported that the subject's cadaver lacked a central nervous system, which was determined to be the cause of death. Investigation of Dr. Vadimovich's private journal and photo albums confirmed that not only were they a victim of SCP-8211, but were also aware of the nature of their situation for more than three years. All evidence suggests Vadimovich kept this secret from their close ones for years, fearing SCP-8211 might hurt them if they revealed the truth. The contents of their journals provided insight into Vadimovich's internal dialogues over the years, most of them were focused on finding an answer to SCP-8211's question. Victim Designation: Case #8211-534 Name: Maxi Diemer Status: Currently alive and aged 37; residing within a mental health institution in Stuttgart, Germany Relevant Notes: Mr. Diemer reportedly had been frequently experiencing recurring lucid nightmares involving a "faceless man" since age 14 and seeking psychiatric help to alleviate the stress caused by these dreams. During interviews with undercover Foundation operatives, Diemer's high school teachers described Diemer as a highly reclusive but intelligent student with a particular interest in philosophy classes. Diemer's high school philosophy teacher stated that he was heavily influenced by Cartesian philosophy and interviews with Diemer's parents as well as inspections of his book collections further evidenced his interest in the work of French philosopher Descartes.3 Mr. Diemer was diagnosed with clinical insanity caused by a previously undiagnosed neurological disorder in the aftermath of the events of 10/11/2002. On the morning of that day, Diemer woke up from his sleep and alarmed his parents, apparently distressed. Diemer's mother later recalled during an interview that Diemer was "speaking with phrases that sounded like words but had no real meaning". All subsequent attempts to communicate with Diemer failed. Diemer refused to communicate through writing and did not appear to be able to decipher both spoken and written sentences. A Foundation disseminated hoax propogated the rumour that Diemer's condition was caused by a brain injury which occurred in the womb. Victim Designation: Case #8211-535 Name: Dayananda Upandhye Status: An Indian Hindu mystic of mysterious origin who taught a small group of around 20 disciples and formed the monastic Upandhye Order in 2007 which doesn't exist today; whether he's alive or deceased is entirely unknown Relevant Notes: Between 2007 and 2010, Upandhye supposedly lead an indeterminate number of disciples who all believed he was a divine incarnation (avatar). Upandhye's teachings were vastly different from orthodox Hindu philosophies. Even though there are no official records that support the existence of either Upandhye himself or an underground religious order which adhered to his beliefs, one of his claimed former disciples became an attendee of the University of Mumbai in 2014 and provided literary evidence of the Upandhye Order's ideologies to one of his professors. A number of various literary works attributed to Upandhye have been discovered since, most of these contain references to "faceless demons unlike any sunyavadi known from the ancient scriptures" and "incorporeal beings who seek to understand and be what we are". In their personal memoirs, one of his claimed former pupils wrote that Upandhye's order was dissolved after he was found dead one morning with "a hole located where his heart should've been, as if something had ripped it right through his chest and took it". The same scripture also claims that Upandhye had "finally found an answer to the question he was tired of being asked again and again, and with that, so had the spirits who haunted him". Victim Designation: Case #8211-536 Name: Bonnie Lawrence Status: A female escort living in London, England described by several peers and customers as a person who "knows men better than anyone"4 but otherwise not worthy of note; currently alive and aged 32 Relevant Notes: On the morning of 01/01/2015 at around 8 o'clock; Ms. Lawrence and a male customer of hers, an English man named Deacon George, woke up in the same motel room in London. Mr. George complained of a mild pain between his legs upon waking up and subsequently found that they had been castrated in their sleep despite the fact that no wounds had been inflicted upon their flesh. He later unsuccessfully sued Ms. Lawrence for assault. In court, Lawrence claimed she was visited by a "grossly disfigured man" during her sleep the night prior and asked a question. Upon answering this question, she immediately woke up next to Mr. George oblivious to any events which may have transpired while they were both sleeping. All records of the court case were seized by the Foundation. Every person involved with this incident were amnesticized, and Mr. George has since resumed his life as a eunuch. A cover story which propagated the false claim that Mr. George was ambushed and violently assaulted by a mentally disturbed assailant shortly after exiting the motel during the early hours of 01/01/2015 was disseminated to explain his condition. Mr. George's memories were altered via amnestic treatment to validate this story. D-3123, who had been diagnosed with depressive psychosis, was framed and persecuted for physically assaulting and mutilating George. Ms. Lawrence has claimed to never have experienced similar dreams prior to this incident. Victim Designation: Case #8211-537 Name: Date Machi Status: A midwife formerly living in a rural residence in Kyoto, Japan; currently alive and aged 46 Relevant Notes: See the interview log attached below. Addendum 8211.02: Interview Excerpt from Log #8211-436-A Interviewer: Dr. Su Nara Interviewee: Mrs. Date Machi [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Su: Hello Mrs. Date and good afternoon. I was told you are in a good enough mood for an interview today. How are you feeling? Mrs. Date: Better. I'm still trying to digest everything that happened. It's just… Dr. Su: Too much? I completely understand that. We can stop this interview the moment you feel that you can't continue. Mrs. Date: I… I think I'll be fine. Mrs. Date takes a sip from the glass of water sitting in front of her. She swallows and lets out a sigh. Mrs. Date: Alright. Alright then. What do you need to know? Dr. Su: You stated before that you believe the noppera-bō5 are responsible for the… let's say the "incident" which occurred in your house roughly five days ago. Mrs. Date: It's simply the most logical explanation. All the doors and windows were locked and they hadn't been forced. It wasn't a regular break-in. It couldn't have been the work of a man. Dr. Su: Have you personally encountered these entities yourself? Mrs. Date: I had suspicions before I even started having the dreams! There were bugs all over the house, insecticides did not do anything to repel them. Mosquitos, flies, bees, an absolute nightmare. But they weren't there to bother us. They were attracted to something else, you could tell it when you tried to swing at them with a broom and you could hear very faint footsteps afterwards. My husband and children cared only about the insects but I knew there was something there, something bigger and something very paranoid. Dr. Su: Did you say anything about this to your family? Mrs. Date: Not until I started having the dreams. Dr. Su: What can you tell me about these dreams? Mrs. Date: They started around two months ago. I had one everytime I went to sleep, I couldn't dream about anything else. And the dreams were long, much longer than your average dreams. And the worst part is, even after I woke up I could still remember everything vividly. The image of those people's faces were engraved in my brain! I eventually became too afraid to fall asleep. I used to lie in bed holding a heavy book in my hand so that the sound it made after falling kept me awake as long as possible. Dr. Su: What was it about these dreams that made them so traumatic? Mrs. Date: The questions. Oh, all those awful, repetitive questions. My husband became too afraid of me to even sleep with me in the same bed because I had started to scream in my sleep. I was begging, begging for them to say something else, anything other than the same question over and over again, for them to let me wake up. They just refused to accept I didn't have the answers they wanted. Dr. Su: But you eventually did find an answer, right? Is that… Isn't that why they… Mrs. Date is silent and distraught. Dr. Su: I'm sorry, did I go too far? Mrs. Date: I loved my family. I loved them more than anything else. Dr. Su: …Okay? Mrs. Date: I don't think you understand how awful those dreams truly were. Everything was just a pitch black darkness. There was a weight on my chest as if someone was poking me with a gun. The thing's face was this close to mine and I could feel its breath. It was foul, it smelled like the guy's stomach was full of dead insects. I just could not escape the smell of dead insects. I couldn't focus on my life anymore. Everyday- Dr. Su: I feel like we're going a bit off-topic here- Mrs. Date: -EVERY DAY, I had to wake up and spend my day cleaning dead flies on the floor, picking up squashed insects from the windows. On top of that, I could feel my loved ones slipping away from me, getting progressively more worried about me and more scared of me, of the things I believed. They had to be true, they… they couldn't know how it was like having it as hard as I had. Dr. Su: That's- Mrs. Date: Do you know what the question was? The thing those spirits kept asking me? It was… it… Mrs. Date takes a deep breath and closes their eyes. Mrs. Date: "What is the thing that makes a man what he is?" Mrs. Date opens her eyes again. Mrs. Date: I asked myself what that could mean. Over and over and over and over again. And one day, it just clicked. The spirit wanted to be what I was. A human. An actual person, a man. It wanted to know what it had to have to be a real, actual man who could walk the planet like everyone else did. Once I figured that out, I began feeling sympathetic for it, in a way. Mrs. Date wipes their eyes, holding back tears. Dr. Su: What… what did you tell it? Mrs. Date looks down and begins sobbing. Dr. Su: Mrs. Date, what did you tell the spirit? Mrs. Date: I… I told it what I believed. I looked at it where its eyes were supposed to be and I said "family". "Their family is the thing that makes a person who they are". And I meant it. But I couldn't have… couldn't have predicted that I would wake up that morning and find my house completely empty. I couldn't have predicted that it would've taken my family. I didn't want any of this. Please, I… I miss them so much… Mrs. Date resumes sobbing. Dr. Su promptly terminates the interview. Mrs. Date is escorted back to her quarters. [END LOG] ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8211" by alanthechair, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8211. 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: nofacecharlie.jpg Name: nofacecharlie.jpg Author: Anonymous License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Black_and_white_photographs_of_Elektrostal._img-03.jpg Additional Notes: Image is cropped Footnotes 1. Additionally, some flying insects (such as flies, bees and butterflies) can be attracted to the presence of SCP-8211. These animals can make an SCP-8211 instance's presence known to humans by frequently moving in circles around it, although they do not appear to have the ability to interact with them physically. SCP-8211 do not appear to be bothered by these entities. 2. Incorporeal Entity Vacuum Chambers have no effect on SCP-8211. 3. EDITOR'S NOTE: This data has been flagged as significant by the SCP-8211 analytics research team. Any edit requests to remove it from official documentation on the basis of irrelevance will be denied. 4. EDITOR'S NOTE: This data has been flagged as significant by the SCP-8211 analytics research team. Any edit requests to remove it from official documentation on the basis of irrelevance will be denied. 5. Japanese yōkai which resemble faceless humans. |
SCP-8212 | euclid | Item#: 8212 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: caution link to memo RAISA Notice You are currently accessing a version of the SCP-8212 file with archived Special Containment Procedures. The Special Containment Procedures you are reading were last current on June 4, 2015. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8212 is to be held in a standard humanoid containment cell at Site-48. Description: SCP-8212 is a virulent Usinsk-class “Pattern Screamer” ideoform that attained humanoid form in Pierre, South Dakota on May 4, 2015. Usinsk-class ideoforms are heavily distorted remnants of the inhabitants of a prior iteration of this universe. The nature of their partial existence is not yet fully understood; however, when perceived by intelligent beings, Usinsk-class ideoforms flare briefly into existence. Additionally, the nature of an Usinsk-class ideoform will conform to the conscious and unconscious expectations of the perceiving entity, a process known to be instantaneous, involuntary, and the source of great pain. While most desire permanent nonexistence, some, including SCP-8212, have instead expressed a desire to achieve and maintain corporeal form. Taking advantage of an unusual period of porosity caused by a separate noospheric anomaly breaching containment, SCP-8212 briefly extended the parameters of its quasi-existence to encompass Earth’s noosphere as a whole, providing it with effective omniscience. To attain physical form, SCP-8212 appears to have leveraged the reliance of Usinsk-class ideoforms on human perception, implanting associations between SCP-8212 and various human-esque qualia into the minds of specific Pierre, South Dakota residents through targeted infections of the noosphere. These associations resulted in SCP-8212 incarnating as a humanoid within Pierre. Upon incarnating, SCP-8212 promptly interacted with additional residents of Pierre to entrench itself in human perception and guarantee a continued, consistent corporeal existence. In doing so, SCP-8212 intentionally solidified itself into the form that the non-anomalous residents of Pierre expected of it; because these individuals presumably believed that SCP-8212 was non-anomalous, this is assumed to have had the effect of removing any biological differentiation between SCP-8212 and an ordinary 27-year-old woman. Discovery: After readings indicated a brief and severe reduction in Hume levels within Pierre, a Site-19-led investigation of the local noosphere discovered the artificial external insertion of certain associations between physical and social qualities and a previously absent concept, believed to be SCP-8212. Through flagging subsequent, organically developed conceptual associations with SCP-8212, Site-19 was able to create a list of physical qualities that SCP-8212 had assumed. An individual precisely matching these qualities was identified and detained without incident on May 11, 2015 by Drs. Masha Straschnov and Judd Fessler, who were tasked with developing a containment strategy. En route to Site-48, SCP-8212 confirmed the Foundation “theory of the case” regarding its emergence. It also claimed to have fully attained personhood. Because of the Foundation’s high degree of certainty regarding SCP-8212’s nature and motivations, an intake interview was deemed unnecessary. Addendum: Interview logs with SCP-8212 are presented below. Context regarding testing results and changes in containment philosophy are presented as well. Please contact Director Kahele's office for additional relevant documentation. May 12, 2015: SCP-8212 requested that an interview be conducted. The request was denied. May 13, 2015: SCP-8212 requested that an interview be conducted. The request was denied. May 14, 2015: An interview was conducted. Transcript of Interview (May 14, 2015) FESSLER: I was told there was a ‘disturbance in the 8212 cell.’ SCP-8212: Is that right? FESSLER: You want to explain this? SCP-8212: I thought it was clear enough. Should I have made the letters larger? FESSLER: “PERSON.” Charming. Is this all your own shit? SCP-8212: It sure isn’t anyone else’s. FESSLER: Clean yourself off. We’ll talk in an hour. [EXTRANEOUS DISCUSSION REMOVED] SCP-8212: I work for a guy named Mitch. Seventy-six. Looks older. He runs the Starlight Diner on Hackney, in southwest Pierre. It’s a 24-hour joint, and he works there for sixteen-hour days, same as he has since he was a young man. He’s too old to do it, but too proud to stop. He could take lighter hours. He has a good team there. He makes decent money. He just couldn’t stand to. SCP-8212: He fell in the kitchen last spring. He was alone at the time. Picking up a graveyard, holding down the fort. Exhaustion, of course. He nearly cracked his head against the stove. I only saw because back then I saw everything. He never told a soul. SCP-8212: And then I came. And I was the girl who shows up at 9 AM and works till 5, then hands it over to Mitch, who works till 1. So I work eight hours and he works eight hours, same as he thinks it’s been for the past three years, and he spends his days sitting on the porch with a book, the same way he’s convinced he always did. SCP-8212: He sleeps eight hours, now. His doctor’s convinced he’ll see 90. SCP-8212: Then there’s Kate. She’s why I’m a woman, actually. Why I look like a woman. I don’t remember my original gender, or if I had one; it’s just been so long since I’ve been alive. SCP-8212: She’s lonely. Not as lonely as I was, out there in the dark, but lonelier than anyone should be. Ah, she has friends. In her way. Her ex-husband got most of them in the divorce, so now they come over and eat her cooking and make sad comments afterward about ‘how she’s holding up.’ SCP-8212: The divorce itself was amicable. Two years together. Almost not enough time for a good head of steam to build. No broken dishes. But he tells everyone that’ll listen that he just couldn’t get through to her. That she would go silent. Aloof. At certain times. He means: in bed. Everyone knows he means in bed. SCP-8212: He says she kissed like she was checking a box. Like she was waiting for something. SCP-8212: Still, he doesn’t know. Just about nobody knows. Kate barely knows. SCP-8212: Now, I know nobody asked for my opinion, but I think when people say ‘oh, they seem to be waiting for something,’ what they often mean is that they seem to be waiting for death. SCP-8212: But I don’t know, Judd. What do you think? FESSLER: I think you're on pretty thin ice. (SCP-8212 shrugs.) SCP-8212: Anyway, it’s a good thing she has me. We’ve been dating for a year now, for about a week. I’ve got her favorite ice cream in my freezer. Maybe it’s melted by now. You haven’t been paying my power bill, have you? STRASCHNOV: Your power bill should be the least of your concerns. SCP-8212: Maybe. It's still on the list. SCP-8212: As for my mom, she turned sixty-three last January. I’m her only child, and God, it’s not for lack of trying. STRASCHNOV: What did you do to her children? SCP-8212: I never did anything to them. They never were. Christ, Masha, she had four miscarriages in a row. SCP-8212: I mean, that can cause a lot of grief. Even one can just wreck a person. Or, well, anyway. FESSLER: Do you need to take a minute? STRASCHNOV: Give me more credit than that. SCP-8212: When I tell you she tried everything, I mean it. When I came along, she was just getting older, alone. I never created any need. I just filled the empty space; there was plenty to fill. FESSLER: A less charitable reading would note that your method of becoming human consists entirely of identifying the emotionally and physically vulnerable, insinuating yourself into their trust, and making deep, marked changes to their way of life in order to entrench yourself in their memory. You’ve been flailing out wildly at perceived emotional vulnerabilities in order to survive. In fact, you’re even doing it right now. SCP-8212: You’re calling me parasitic. FESSLER: Arguably mutualistic. Very arguably; the idea that anyone is unambiguously benefited through being deluded is, at the very least, philosophically controversial. But that’s not the point. We came in here saying ‘hey, you’re a virulent ideoform, and we like to contain those.’ Your response consists entirely of saying ‘Sure, but actually, I’m even more virulent than you thought.’ SCP-8212: It does mean I’m pretty beloved down there. Means I’m going to be missed. FESSLER: Be that as it may, we’ve made larger sacrifices for containment. SCP-8212: The folks at the big sites have. Have y’all? STRASCHNOV: You don’t think we have the stomach? SCP-8212: I don’t think you have the resources. There’s a woman whose kid just disappeared. Whose partner just disappeared. You’ll have to amnesticize them both, and everyone they told, which is cumulatively dozens of people. Everyone at the Starlight, too. Frequent customers. Friends. And that’s a lot, but it’s just the start. By now I’m a missing person. There are probably articles about me. And you can’t just allow them to circulate. Because the more people get invested, the more questions they’ll have about my life story. And I’ll admit that there’s a few holes there. So you will need to shut the reporting down. Then you might need to amnesticize a lot of the readers. But you can’t find all the readers. And some will wonder if they ever found the girl, and then they’ll check for the articles and find they aren’t there. Some of them will shrug and move on. Most, even. Some will wash out to Parawatch. How sure are you that none of them will choose to look deeper? STRASCHNOV: How, and how much, do you know about Parawatch? SCP-8212: Pretty much everything. You see a lot when you’re nowhere. It’d be a lot to take on, wouldn’t it? For some little site way up in the sticks? You’d have to ask for external support. It’d be embarrassing for your boss. Meaning that it’d be punishing for you. STRASCHNOV: So what’s your idea? SCP-8212: Don’t amnesticize them. Amnesticize me. FESSLER: Our only source of information about you is yourself. SCP-8212: Well, there isn’t much to tell, is there? Everyone back home thinks I’m just a normal person. Which means that, biologically, that’s probably exactly what I am. Clay’s dried by now. I’ve told you everything about what I was and how I got here. As for what I am now, well, I don’t think that has to be a matter of any particular interest to you. STRASCHNOV: So how long do you want to be amnesticized for, and why? SCP-8212: Nothing like that. None of your twenty-four-hour stuff. I want to be amnesticized so thoroughly that I forget that I was ever anything but a person. STRASCHNOV: Fine. We amnesticize you. And then what? SCP-8212: I’ll need a social. A birth certificate. I can tell you what the details will be. I probably don’t need a passport. Or—actually, I’d like one. I think I’ll have gone up to Edmonton one summer with my mother. I think she will have had a friend there, at one point. Some happy memory. STRASCHNOV: And then what? SCP-8212: And then I want to go back to Pierre. POST-INTERVIEW DISCUSSION FESSLER: I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to make you think substantially less of me. (Straschnov laughs.) STRASCHNOV: Don't worry. I agree with her too. FESSLER: There is something that bugs me, though. STRASCHNOV: That we’d be batting for a pattern screamer? FESSLER: No. It’s that she was omniscient very fucking recently. So she would’ve known that we’d be the ones to apprehend her. She would’ve known that the day she was caught was the day we were up for a new placement. STRASCHNOV: If she checked the calendars, sure. FESSLER: Remember how she just walked into the van? STRASCHNOV: Oh. Oh God. She probably knew she would eventually get caught. So… so it picked its own jury. FESSLER: The Mitch stuff is nice. Chicken soup for the soul. But even that might have just been for our benefit. STRASCHNOV: What she did to Kate and the mom was probably entirely for our benefit. FESSLER: I won’t say the obvious. But if you knew you were going in front of me, it probably wouldn’t hurt to be able to say, hey, I’m the emotional lifeline for my depressed partner. STRASCHNOV: Depressed queer partner, specifically. FESSLER: I don’t like to think I’m that shallow. But it settled on this strategy when it was omniscient. If it thinks I am then I guess I am. STRASCHNOV: Just because it saw everything doesn’t mean it understood. FESSLER: Boy, I wish I believed that. If anything, though, the only-child story was even worse. STRASCHNOV: I don’t want to talk about that. The fact it… the fact it latched onto a woman who had gone through four of them just in order to endear itself to me. FESSLER: You know the worst part? STRASCHNOV: What? FESSLER: It is absolutely obvious that it saw vulnerable people, dug its claws into them, and used them to build a sympathy ploy that would convince us specifically to release it. But… but it doesn’t even matter. There’s still two people who rely so heavily on it. On her. That need is real. Even if her motives were insincere, and they were definitely insincere, we still need to judge the house she built on its own terms. (Silence for ten seconds.) STRASCHNOV: Even knowing what I know. Even knowing that it’s playing into her hands. I would vote to let her go. FESSLER: Me too. But the kicker is that we can’t do shit. Kahele’s never going to go for any plan that involves anomaly release. STRASCHNOV: Would you genuinely be behind it? Fully? FESSLER: I guess I would. STRASCHNOV: Then I can take care of Kahele. FESSLER: How the hell are you going to do that? To: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) From: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|3vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|3vonhcsartsm) Subject: Sanity check re: 8212 Hi Director- good morning! We’re facing some serious potential complications regarding 8212. I wanted to touch base with you to determine the ‘limits of the possible.’ Just to sound out potential options, do you feel Site-48 would be capable of organizing the amnesticization of several hundred residents of Pierre and the deletion and archival annihilation of 2-3 news articles? Some additional minor containment measures might also be required; I’ll send you a fuller writeup in 30 minutes, but wanted to get this to you relatively quickly to avoid going down the wrong path on this. Best, Dr. Straschnov To: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: Re: Sanity check re: 8212 Hi Masha—good morning! (Use an em dash.) Apologies if this comes off as frank. These specifications are profoundly unrealistic, and their suggestion leaves me with grave doubts about your approach regarding 8212. In answer to your question, this would nominally be within -48’s capabilities, but would in all probability require substantial support from additional sites, to say nothing of massive budgetary overruns. To take a step back, your career at the Foundation will run for far longer than one project. I completely understand that some projects may test the limits of a person’s competence and ingenuity, and I care a great deal about making sure that all of my people are best positioned to thrive. If you find yourself unable to deliver on 8212, I’d be happy to put a more seasoned hand in position there and pivot you over to something less taxing. For full transparency, I should specify that this process will likely involve corresponding decreases in pay grade and seniority. If you don’t want that to happen, get a proposal to me by EOD that won’t require me to call in support. Ahe To: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: 05.14 8212 proposal Hi Masha, Certainly far from perfect. I have no desire to get into the habit of signing off on anomaly release. Still, it’s clear that you’ve taken my feedback. Consider this my acceptance. Ahe To: Dr. Judd Fessler (noitadnuof.pcs|4relssefj#noitadnuof.pcs|4relssefj) From: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm) Subject: FW: 05.14 8212 proposal DING DING DING DING DING DING DING June 2, 2015: Following a complete panel of biological testing, Drs. Straschnov and Fessler confirmed that SCP-8212 was biologically and functionally identical to a non-anomalous human. June 3, 2015: Dr. Fessler conducted an informal interview with SCP-8212. Transcript of Interview (June 3, 2015) FESSLER: Still good so far. SCP-8212: Nice. FESSLER: Just as a formality, you haven’t identified any novel anomalous developments, have you? Biologically? SCP-8212: Nah. Except I piss pure radium. Will that be a problem? FESSLER: You’re messing with me. SCP-8212: I’m messing with you. FESSLER: So how does winning feel? SCP-8212: Good. It feels good. I’m very excited to get back to my life. I mean, there’s so much out there that relies on me, and I don’t mind telling you that I was really, really scared. (Fessler snickers.) SCP-8212: You don’t think I’m sincere. FESSLER: There’s no need to get into that. SCP-8212: Not a lot of high paths open to me, are there? FESSLER: What do you mean? SCP-8212: Well, if I did a good deed out there, obviously it was to appeal to you. So it was a bad deed. FESSLER: Were they not done in part to appeal to us? SCP-8212: This is what I mean. Yes, in part. But I did need to appeal to you. You built a system where the only way to avoid causing massive, irreparable harm to people I do genuinely care about was through appealing to you, and manipulating them. FESSLER: But you do genuinely care about them? SCP-8212: Deeply. And hey, once you give me the chance to do good things, I will. FESSLER: How can we trust you on that? SCP-8212: Oh, you obviously can’t! (SCP-8212 laughs.) SCP-8212: Seriously, I know you want someone to say, oh, Judd, you did the right thing, don’t worry. But even if I told you that right now, you wouldn’t believe me. And if someone else told you, you wouldn’t believe them. FESSLER: Yeah. You’re right. Maybe I should just put it behind me and walk out of the room.1 SCP-8212: Sure. But seeing as you’re not going to, here’s what I think, all right? At this time last month I was locked in partial existence, both innocent and in absolute hell. Now I’m going free and you tell me I’m guilty. I’m sure you prefer the former. I don’t. FESSLER: I think I understand. SCP-8212: You can think whatever you like. FESSLER: There’s one thing I don’t get, though. We tracked you down by looking at noospheric connections within Pierre to the concept that you embody. If you’d chosen a less distinctive appearance, or even left town, you would’ve bought yourself a couple of days at least. It seems like, if you’d done that, the odds that we’d track you down would have been relatively minimal. We’re well-resourced, but you were recently omniscient. I have a hard time believing that, if you were even forty-eight hours ahead of the Foundation, you wouldn’t have been able to run out the clock, allow for typical noospheric pollution to erase your tracks, and disappear into the wild for good. When you were up there, seeing everything, was there really no option whatsoever that didn’t involve your passage into Foundation custody? SCP-8212: Oh, there were more options than stars in the sky. Really, Judd, the fact that the Veil’s there at all is a miracle. FESSLER: That’s comforting. If that’s true, though, then why are you here? SCP-8212: Well, when I told you I didn’t remember my original gender, I was telling a little bit of a fib. The truth is that I was a lot of them. Parts of a lot of them. The Pattern tears through more than your flesh. I’m a tiny little spoonful of countless pulverized consciousnesses. Sliced and torn. Left there for eons like a flayed man on a stretcher. I mean, Judd, try and imagine what that’s like. FESSLER: I don’t think I can imagine it. Hell, I wouldn't want to. SCP-8212: Then what makes you think I like being able to remember it? June 4, 2015: SCP-8212 was successfully amnesticized and released. She was provided with a rental for a rowhouse in a Pierre development owned by Statham Capital Partners, a Foundation front company. Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Pierre, South Dakota. She is presently employed as a cook. SCP-8212 is self-containing. July 2, 2015: Dr. Fessler was tasked with performing a post-release interview. Transcript of Interview (July 2, 2015) SCP-8212: Morning. FESSLER: Morning, ma’am. My name’s Paul Renford. You can call me Paul, of course. I’m from the Statham Renter’s Association. Do you have a minute? SCP-8212: Sure. But I do have to set out in about a half-hour. FESSLER: That’s no problem. SCP-8212: So, Paul, what can I help you with? FESSLER: Well, we’ve been having some complaints about your lawn. Lotta weeds, good bit overgrown, all that. You know your contract does require you to keep it at a certain aesthetic standard. We sent you a few emails about that, though we didn’t get a response. SCP-8212: I never got any emails. What email do you have on file? FESSLER: Is this one right? SCP-8212: No, I’m at GMail. I don’t… I don’t think that anyone uses HotMail anymore. FESSLER: Ah, thank you. We’ll update. And ma’am, I’m afraid this isn’t good news. I'm coming to say that we’ll probably have to level some fines. SCP-8212: Please tell me there’s a way out of that. FESSLER: Is everything all right? SCP-8212: It’s been a rough couple months, to tell you the truth. FESSLER: Well, we do offer temporary exemptions. So why don’t you just tell me what happened and I’ll see what I can do. SCP-8212: Boy, how long do you have? FESSLER: Long enough. SCP-8212: Then you’d better take a seat. (Fessler sits, as does SCP-8212.) SCP-8212: So I was visiting a friend in Fargo, and happened to be walking on back to the bus station, when I got pulled aside by an officer. He told me he was going to take me back to the station. He didn’t ask where I was; he didn’t seem especially interested in anything I had to say. He took my phone the second I got into the car. He didn’t check my identification or anything. I was pretty quiet on the drive, I guess. I figured, hey, once I get there, we’ll clear it right up. Then when I got there, they handed me over to someone else. No information on what I was being held for, no chance for a call, never even a chance to say my name. I never even entered the building. The handoff was in the parking lot. They just shoved me in the back of a van and drove way, way out. SCP-8212: When they took me out of the van, I was complaining like nobody’s business. But the two guys they had escorting me, they just had no patience for that at all. Didn’t ask for my name. Didn’t even fingerprint me. They just shoved me into a cell, by myself. Nothing but a goddamn slit in the wall. Plus a cot and a sink and a toilet. No windows. I was howling like a dog. But from the second I got there, to the second they let me out, I never talked with a single person. The meals came through the slit, and that was all. SCP-8212: I couldn’t believe that a place like here had a place like that. SCP-8212: The first day I was in there, I was sure that in about fifteen minutes, they’d realize they’d fucked up and give me the biggest, deepest apology you’ve ever heard. But by day four I thought I was going to die in there. On day eight and twelve and seventeen I thought for sure that I was going to die in there. SCP-8212: Then the door opened on the twenty-fourth day. I thought it was the twentieth, because I had miscounted the meals. Back to the van, back to the station. They told me that they had thought I was somebody else. That was it, that was all. No compensation. Barely an apology. They just dropped me off at a corner like they were taking out the trash. FESSLER: Holy shit. SCP-8212: Yeah. Sometimes I think about suing. But I talked with the folks down at Sloane Caine Peterson, and they’re pretty sure that I don’t have a case. FESSLER: That’s definitely a surprise. (Fessler sighs.)2 But I guess they know their stuff. SCP-8212: Maybe it’s for the best. I really just want to forget about it. SCP-8212: I had to pay for my own Greyhound back. SCP-8212: It should’ve been obvious, but when I got back here, I found out that since the cops down in Fargo never asked who I was, they never told anyone where I was, either. So I was about a week and a half from an empty-box funeral. There’d been a search party, all that. My mom said that when I texted her she fell and dropped her phone. FESSLER: Jesus, you were the missing woman. SCP-8212: You saw it in the paper? FESSLER: Yeah. Now I can see it, but before you told me I don’t think I could have guessed. SCP-8212: Man, you’d have been no help at all in the search. FESSLER: Guess not. SCP-8212: So I spent a couple hours of the first day back just calling everyone I knew and telling them I wasn’t dead. But that was just the start of it. Rent was way in arrears. Had to put a whole month’s worth on credit. The power got turned off, so all the food was spoiled, freezer and fridge. Missed a car payment; that was a fun series of calls. The worst part was that I had a lot of stuff on autopay, so I was getting hit with overdraft fees every way you looked. My job was gone, too, but I work for Mitchell down at the Starlight, and Mitchell’s a saint, so I was able to get it back pretty easily. Still, a lot of lost income. The whole thing left me five grand in the hole. If Mitch keeps letting me work doubletime I should be back above water by September, but, you know, a lot of stuff kind of fell by the wayside and I guess the lawn was one of them. I promise I’ll get to it. FESSLER: Jesus. Don’t worry about the lawn for a second. I can promise you no-one’s gonna fine you a dime. SCP-8212: Actually? FESSLER: Actually. I’ll make sure of it. SCP-8212: Well, I really appreciate it. Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you. FESSLER: Don’t worry about it. But a water might be nice.3 SCP-8212: Of course. I’m sorry. You’ve been sitting here this whole time and I haven’t offered you anything. FESSLER: Don’t worry about it. SCP-8212: Is tap water okay for you? FESSLER: Been drinking it my whole life, so I hope so. SCP-8212: You want ice? FESSLER: Sure do. Thanks. Is that Chunky Monkey in the freezer? SCP-8212: You like it? FESSLER: I do. You’re a person of taste. SCP-8212: Kind of you, but I don’t really eat it. It’s my boyfriend’s favorite. FESSLER: Boyfriend? SCP-8212: Yeah, boyfriend. FESSLER: Got it. What’s his name? SCP-8212: I appreciate everything you’re doing, but if you’re here to flirt I’ll have to ask you to clear out. FESSLER: Ah, that’s my bad. I was just asking because my husband4 and I saw you with this beautiful woman last week at McAllister’s. (SCP-8212 laughs.) SCP-8212: Do you ever get tired of being so nosy? FESSLER: Why would I get tired? SCP-8212: I mean, I’d just worry I was turning into a stereotype. FESSLER: That’s a fight I gave up long ago. SCP-8212: You just never know who to tell in this town. FESSLER: You’re telling me. I’ve had more beards than a country band. SCP-8212: Anyway, my boyfriend’s name is Kate. FESSLER: Lovely name for a young man. SCP-8212: You let me know if you and… FESSLER: Whit.5 SCP-8212: You let me know if you and Whit ever want to come to dinner. Not right now, of course, but after August I should be able to get a couple evenings free. FESSLER: I’d like to, but we’ll be moving away by then.6 SCP-8212: Ah, that’s a shame. Where to? (Fessler stands up.) FESSLER: Say, I’m sorry to keep you; I’m sure you want to start getting ready. SCP-8212: Yeah, it is getting to be time. (Fessler opens the door.) SCP-8212: Good to meet you, and thanks again. (Fessler pauses for two seconds in the doorway.) FESSLER: You have a good life, all right? SCP-8212: And I hope you have one too. FESSLER: I mean it. You deserve it.7 (SCP-8212 looks up and smiles.) SCP-8212: Paul. Don’t you worry. I’m having one now. (Fessler closes the door.) In light of this interview, SCP-8212's amnesticization and false-memory insertion was found to have been wholly successful. Also in light of this interview, Dr. Fessler was banned from conducting interviews with anomalies for 12 months, except for anomalies currently under physical containment. Dr. Fessler was also obliged to undergo three or more sessions of grief counseling. August 3, 2016: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Pierre, South Dakota with her wife. She is presently employed as a cook. SCP-8212 is self-containing. January 7, 2022: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Plano, Texas with her wife. She is presently employed as a civil engineer. SCP-8212 is self-containing. March 3, 2023: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Plano, Texas with her wife and one child. She is presently employed as a civil engineer. SCP-8212 is self-containing. February 3, 2024: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: For resource conservation purposes, SCP-8212 is no longer being tracked. SCP-8212 is self-containing. Footnotes 1. Unless necessitated by the demands of the backstory, overfamiliarity with anomalies is against Site-48 interview policy. 2. Reactions that would tend to cast doubt on statements made by Foundation front companies are strictly against Site-48 interview policy. 3. Acceptance of sustenance provided by an anomaly is forbidden under Site-48 interview policy unless necessary for survival. 4. This is not a component of the approved backstory. 5. This is not a component of the approved backstory. Additionally, the use of the names of real-life former romantic companions within a backstory is forbidden under Site-48 interview policy. 6. This is not a component of the approved backstory. 7. Unless necessitated by the demands of the backstory, overfamiliarity with anomalies is against Site-48 interview policy. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8212" by habaniah, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8212. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8212 | uncontained | Item#: 8212 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: caution link to memo RAISA Notice You are currently accessing a version of the SCP-8212 file with archived Special Containment Procedures. The Special Containment Procedures you are reading were last current on June 4, 2015. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8212 is to be held in a standard humanoid containment cell at Site-48. Description: SCP-8212 is a virulent Usinsk-class “Pattern Screamer” ideoform that attained humanoid form in Pierre, South Dakota on May 4, 2015. Usinsk-class ideoforms are heavily distorted remnants of the inhabitants of a prior iteration of this universe. The nature of their partial existence is not yet fully understood; however, when perceived by intelligent beings, Usinsk-class ideoforms flare briefly into existence. Additionally, the nature of an Usinsk-class ideoform will conform to the conscious and unconscious expectations of the perceiving entity, a process known to be instantaneous, involuntary, and the source of great pain. While most desire permanent nonexistence, some, including SCP-8212, have instead expressed a desire to achieve and maintain corporeal form. Taking advantage of an unusual period of porosity caused by a separate noospheric anomaly breaching containment, SCP-8212 briefly extended the parameters of its quasi-existence to encompass Earth’s noosphere as a whole, providing it with effective omniscience. To attain physical form, SCP-8212 appears to have leveraged the reliance of Usinsk-class ideoforms on human perception, implanting associations between SCP-8212 and various human-esque qualia into the minds of specific Pierre, South Dakota residents through targeted infections of the noosphere. These associations resulted in SCP-8212 incarnating as a humanoid within Pierre. Upon incarnating, SCP-8212 promptly interacted with additional residents of Pierre to entrench itself in human perception and guarantee a continued, consistent corporeal existence. In doing so, SCP-8212 intentionally solidified itself into the form that the non-anomalous residents of Pierre expected of it; because these individuals presumably believed that SCP-8212 was non-anomalous, this is assumed to have had the effect of removing any biological differentiation between SCP-8212 and an ordinary 27-year-old woman. Discovery: After readings indicated a brief and severe reduction in Hume levels within Pierre, a Site-19-led investigation of the local noosphere discovered the artificial external insertion of certain associations between physical and social qualities and a previously absent concept, believed to be SCP-8212. Through flagging subsequent, organically developed conceptual associations with SCP-8212, Site-19 was able to create a list of physical qualities that SCP-8212 had assumed. An individual precisely matching these qualities was identified and detained without incident on May 11, 2015 by Drs. Masha Straschnov and Judd Fessler, who were tasked with developing a containment strategy. En route to Site-48, SCP-8212 confirmed the Foundation “theory of the case” regarding its emergence. It also claimed to have fully attained personhood. Because of the Foundation’s high degree of certainty regarding SCP-8212’s nature and motivations, an intake interview was deemed unnecessary. Addendum: Interview logs with SCP-8212 are presented below. Context regarding testing results and changes in containment philosophy are presented as well. Please contact Director Kahele's office for additional relevant documentation. May 12, 2015: SCP-8212 requested that an interview be conducted. The request was denied. May 13, 2015: SCP-8212 requested that an interview be conducted. The request was denied. May 14, 2015: An interview was conducted. Transcript of Interview (May 14, 2015) FESSLER: I was told there was a ‘disturbance in the 8212 cell.’ SCP-8212: Is that right? FESSLER: You want to explain this? SCP-8212: I thought it was clear enough. Should I have made the letters larger? FESSLER: “PERSON.” Charming. Is this all your own shit? SCP-8212: It sure isn’t anyone else’s. FESSLER: Clean yourself off. We’ll talk in an hour. [EXTRANEOUS DISCUSSION REMOVED] SCP-8212: I work for a guy named Mitch. Seventy-six. Looks older. He runs the Starlight Diner on Hackney, in southwest Pierre. It’s a 24-hour joint, and he works there for sixteen-hour days, same as he has since he was a young man. He’s too old to do it, but too proud to stop. He could take lighter hours. He has a good team there. He makes decent money. He just couldn’t stand to. SCP-8212: He fell in the kitchen last spring. He was alone at the time. Picking up a graveyard, holding down the fort. Exhaustion, of course. He nearly cracked his head against the stove. I only saw because back then I saw everything. He never told a soul. SCP-8212: And then I came. And I was the girl who shows up at 9 AM and works till 5, then hands it over to Mitch, who works till 1. So I work eight hours and he works eight hours, same as he thinks it’s been for the past three years, and he spends his days sitting on the porch with a book, the same way he’s convinced he always did. SCP-8212: He sleeps eight hours, now. His doctor’s convinced he’ll see 90. SCP-8212: Then there’s Kate. She’s why I’m a woman, actually. Why I look like a woman. I don’t remember my original gender, or if I had one; it’s just been so long since I’ve been alive. SCP-8212: She’s lonely. Not as lonely as I was, out there in the dark, but lonelier than anyone should be. Ah, she has friends. In her way. Her ex-husband got most of them in the divorce, so now they come over and eat her cooking and make sad comments afterward about ‘how she’s holding up.’ SCP-8212: The divorce itself was amicable. Two years together. Almost not enough time for a good head of steam to build. No broken dishes. But he tells everyone that’ll listen that he just couldn’t get through to her. That she would go silent. Aloof. At certain times. He means: in bed. Everyone knows he means in bed. SCP-8212: He says she kissed like she was checking a box. Like she was waiting for something. SCP-8212: Still, he doesn’t know. Just about nobody knows. Kate barely knows. SCP-8212: Now, I know nobody asked for my opinion, but I think when people say ‘oh, they seem to be waiting for something,’ what they often mean is that they seem to be waiting for death. SCP-8212: But I don’t know, Judd. What do you think? FESSLER: I think you're on pretty thin ice. (SCP-8212 shrugs.) SCP-8212: Anyway, it’s a good thing she has me. We’ve been dating for a year now, for about a week. I’ve got her favorite ice cream in my freezer. Maybe it’s melted by now. You haven’t been paying my power bill, have you? STRASCHNOV: Your power bill should be the least of your concerns. SCP-8212: Maybe. It's still on the list. SCP-8212: As for my mom, she turned sixty-three last January. I’m her only child, and God, it’s not for lack of trying. STRASCHNOV: What did you do to her children? SCP-8212: I never did anything to them. They never were. Christ, Masha, she had four miscarriages in a row. SCP-8212: I mean, that can cause a lot of grief. Even one can just wreck a person. Or, well, anyway. FESSLER: Do you need to take a minute? STRASCHNOV: Give me more credit than that. SCP-8212: When I tell you she tried everything, I mean it. When I came along, she was just getting older, alone. I never created any need. I just filled the empty space; there was plenty to fill. FESSLER: A less charitable reading would note that your method of becoming human consists entirely of identifying the emotionally and physically vulnerable, insinuating yourself into their trust, and making deep, marked changes to their way of life in order to entrench yourself in their memory. You’ve been flailing out wildly at perceived emotional vulnerabilities in order to survive. In fact, you’re even doing it right now. SCP-8212: You’re calling me parasitic. FESSLER: Arguably mutualistic. Very arguably; the idea that anyone is unambiguously benefited through being deluded is, at the very least, philosophically controversial. But that’s not the point. We came in here saying ‘hey, you’re a virulent ideoform, and we like to contain those.’ Your response consists entirely of saying ‘Sure, but actually, I’m even more virulent than you thought.’ SCP-8212: It does mean I’m pretty beloved down there. Means I’m going to be missed. FESSLER: Be that as it may, we’ve made larger sacrifices for containment. SCP-8212: The folks at the big sites have. Have y’all? STRASCHNOV: You don’t think we have the stomach? SCP-8212: I don’t think you have the resources. There’s a woman whose kid just disappeared. Whose partner just disappeared. You’ll have to amnesticize them both, and everyone they told, which is cumulatively dozens of people. Everyone at the Starlight, too. Frequent customers. Friends. And that’s a lot, but it’s just the start. By now I’m a missing person. There are probably articles about me. And you can’t just allow them to circulate. Because the more people get invested, the more questions they’ll have about my life story. And I’ll admit that there’s a few holes there. So you will need to shut the reporting down. Then you might need to amnesticize a lot of the readers. But you can’t find all the readers. And some will wonder if they ever found the girl, and then they’ll check for the articles and find they aren’t there. Some of them will shrug and move on. Most, even. Some will wash out to Parawatch. How sure are you that none of them will choose to look deeper? STRASCHNOV: How, and how much, do you know about Parawatch? SCP-8212: Pretty much everything. You see a lot when you’re nowhere. It’d be a lot to take on, wouldn’t it? For some little site way up in the sticks? You’d have to ask for external support. It’d be embarrassing for your boss. Meaning that it’d be punishing for you. STRASCHNOV: So what’s your idea? SCP-8212: Don’t amnesticize them. Amnesticize me. FESSLER: Our only source of information about you is yourself. SCP-8212: Well, there isn’t much to tell, is there? Everyone back home thinks I’m just a normal person. Which means that, biologically, that’s probably exactly what I am. Clay’s dried by now. I’ve told you everything about what I was and how I got here. As for what I am now, well, I don’t think that has to be a matter of any particular interest to you. STRASCHNOV: So how long do you want to be amnesticized for, and why? SCP-8212: Nothing like that. None of your twenty-four-hour stuff. I want to be amnesticized so thoroughly that I forget that I was ever anything but a person. STRASCHNOV: Fine. We amnesticize you. And then what? SCP-8212: I’ll need a social. A birth certificate. I can tell you what the details will be. I probably don’t need a passport. Or—actually, I’d like one. I think I’ll have gone up to Edmonton one summer with my mother. I think she will have had a friend there, at one point. Some happy memory. STRASCHNOV: And then what? SCP-8212: And then I want to go back to Pierre. POST-INTERVIEW DISCUSSION FESSLER: I’m going to tell you something, and it’s going to make you think substantially less of me. (Straschnov laughs.) STRASCHNOV: Don't worry. I agree with her too. FESSLER: There is something that bugs me, though. STRASCHNOV: That we’d be batting for a pattern screamer? FESSLER: No. It’s that she was omniscient very fucking recently. So she would’ve known that we’d be the ones to apprehend her. She would’ve known that the day she was caught was the day we were up for a new placement. STRASCHNOV: If she checked the calendars, sure. FESSLER: Remember how she just walked into the van? STRASCHNOV: Oh. Oh God. She probably knew she would eventually get caught. So… so it picked its own jury. FESSLER: The Mitch stuff is nice. Chicken soup for the soul. But even that might have just been for our benefit. STRASCHNOV: What she did to Kate and the mom was probably entirely for our benefit. FESSLER: I won’t say the obvious. But if you knew you were going in front of me, it probably wouldn’t hurt to be able to say, hey, I’m the emotional lifeline for my depressed partner. STRASCHNOV: Depressed queer partner, specifically. FESSLER: I don’t like to think I’m that shallow. But it settled on this strategy when it was omniscient. If it thinks I am then I guess I am. STRASCHNOV: Just because it saw everything doesn’t mean it understood. FESSLER: Boy, I wish I believed that. If anything, though, the only-child story was even worse. STRASCHNOV: I don’t want to talk about that. The fact it… the fact it latched onto a woman who had gone through four of them just in order to endear itself to me. FESSLER: You know the worst part? STRASCHNOV: What? FESSLER: It is absolutely obvious that it saw vulnerable people, dug its claws into them, and used them to build a sympathy ploy that would convince us specifically to release it. But… but it doesn’t even matter. There’s still two people who rely so heavily on it. On her. That need is real. Even if her motives were insincere, and they were definitely insincere, we still need to judge the house she built on its own terms. (Silence for ten seconds.) STRASCHNOV: Even knowing what I know. Even knowing that it’s playing into her hands. I would vote to let her go. FESSLER: Me too. But the kicker is that we can’t do shit. Kahele’s never going to go for any plan that involves anomaly release. STRASCHNOV: Would you genuinely be behind it? Fully? FESSLER: I guess I would. STRASCHNOV: Then I can take care of Kahele. FESSLER: How the hell are you going to do that? To: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) From: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|3vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|3vonhcsartsm) Subject: Sanity check re: 8212 Hi Director- good morning! We’re facing some serious potential complications regarding 8212. I wanted to touch base with you to determine the ‘limits of the possible.’ Just to sound out potential options, do you feel Site-48 would be capable of organizing the amnesticization of several hundred residents of Pierre and the deletion and archival annihilation of 2-3 news articles? Some additional minor containment measures might also be required; I’ll send you a fuller writeup in 30 minutes, but wanted to get this to you relatively quickly to avoid going down the wrong path on this. Best, Dr. Straschnov To: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: Re: Sanity check re: 8212 Hi Masha—good morning! (Use an em dash.) Apologies if this comes off as frank. These specifications are profoundly unrealistic, and their suggestion leaves me with grave doubts about your approach regarding 8212. In answer to your question, this would nominally be within -48’s capabilities, but would in all probability require substantial support from additional sites, to say nothing of massive budgetary overruns. To take a step back, your career at the Foundation will run for far longer than one project. I completely understand that some projects may test the limits of a person’s competence and ingenuity, and I care a great deal about making sure that all of my people are best positioned to thrive. If you find yourself unable to deliver on 8212, I’d be happy to put a more seasoned hand in position there and pivot you over to something less taxing. For full transparency, I should specify that this process will likely involve corresponding decreases in pay grade and seniority. If you don’t want that to happen, get a proposal to me by EOD that won’t require me to call in support. Ahe To: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm) From: Site-48 Director Ahe Kahele (noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka#noitadnuof.pcs|elehaka) Subject: 05.14 8212 proposal Hi Masha, Certainly far from perfect. I have no desire to get into the habit of signing off on anomaly release. Still, it’s clear that you’ve taken my feedback. Consider this my acceptance. Ahe To: Dr. Judd Fessler (noitadnuof.pcs|4relssefj#noitadnuof.pcs|4relssefj) From: Dr. Masha Straschnov (noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm#noitadnuof.pcs|2vonhcsartsm) Subject: FW: 05.14 8212 proposal DING DING DING DING DING DING DING June 2, 2015: Following a complete panel of biological testing, Drs. Straschnov and Fessler confirmed that SCP-8212 was biologically and functionally identical to a non-anomalous human. June 3, 2015: Dr. Fessler conducted an informal interview with SCP-8212. Transcript of Interview (June 3, 2015) FESSLER: Still good so far. SCP-8212: Nice. FESSLER: Just as a formality, you haven’t identified any novel anomalous developments, have you? Biologically? SCP-8212: Nah. Except I piss pure radium. Will that be a problem? FESSLER: You’re messing with me. SCP-8212: I’m messing with you. FESSLER: So how does winning feel? SCP-8212: Good. It feels good. I’m very excited to get back to my life. I mean, there’s so much out there that relies on me, and I don’t mind telling you that I was really, really scared. (Fessler snickers.) SCP-8212: You don’t think I’m sincere. FESSLER: There’s no need to get into that. SCP-8212: Not a lot of high paths open to me, are there? FESSLER: What do you mean? SCP-8212: Well, if I did a good deed out there, obviously it was to appeal to you. So it was a bad deed. FESSLER: Were they not done in part to appeal to us? SCP-8212: This is what I mean. Yes, in part. But I did need to appeal to you. You built a system where the only way to avoid causing massive, irreparable harm to people I do genuinely care about was through appealing to you, and manipulating them. FESSLER: But you do genuinely care about them? SCP-8212: Deeply. And hey, once you give me the chance to do good things, I will. FESSLER: How can we trust you on that? SCP-8212: Oh, you obviously can’t! (SCP-8212 laughs.) SCP-8212: Seriously, I know you want someone to say, oh, Judd, you did the right thing, don’t worry. But even if I told you that right now, you wouldn’t believe me. And if someone else told you, you wouldn’t believe them. FESSLER: Yeah. You’re right. Maybe I should just put it behind me and walk out of the room.1 SCP-8212: Sure. But seeing as you’re not going to, here’s what I think, all right? At this time last month I was locked in partial existence, both innocent and in absolute hell. Now I’m going free and you tell me I’m guilty. I’m sure you prefer the former. I don’t. FESSLER: I think I understand. SCP-8212: You can think whatever you like. FESSLER: There’s one thing I don’t get, though. We tracked you down by looking at noospheric connections within Pierre to the concept that you embody. If you’d chosen a less distinctive appearance, or even left town, you would’ve bought yourself a couple of days at least. It seems like, if you’d done that, the odds that we’d track you down would have been relatively minimal. We’re well-resourced, but you were recently omniscient. I have a hard time believing that, if you were even forty-eight hours ahead of the Foundation, you wouldn’t have been able to run out the clock, allow for typical noospheric pollution to erase your tracks, and disappear into the wild for good. When you were up there, seeing everything, was there really no option whatsoever that didn’t involve your passage into Foundation custody? SCP-8212: Oh, there were more options than stars in the sky. Really, Judd, the fact that the Veil’s there at all is a miracle. FESSLER: That’s comforting. If that’s true, though, then why are you here? SCP-8212: Well, when I told you I didn’t remember my original gender, I was telling a little bit of a fib. The truth is that I was a lot of them. Parts of a lot of them. The Pattern tears through more than your flesh. I’m a tiny little spoonful of countless pulverized consciousnesses. Sliced and torn. Left there for eons like a flayed man on a stretcher. I mean, Judd, try and imagine what that’s like. FESSLER: I don’t think I can imagine it. Hell, I wouldn't want to. SCP-8212: Then what makes you think I like being able to remember it? June 4, 2015: SCP-8212 was successfully amnesticized and released. She was provided with a rental for a rowhouse in a Pierre development owned by Statham Capital Partners, a Foundation front company. Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Pierre, South Dakota. She is presently employed as a cook. SCP-8212 is self-containing. July 2, 2015: Dr. Fessler was tasked with performing a post-release interview. Transcript of Interview (July 2, 2015) SCP-8212: Morning. FESSLER: Morning, ma’am. My name’s Paul Renford. You can call me Paul, of course. I’m from the Statham Renter’s Association. Do you have a minute? SCP-8212: Sure. But I do have to set out in about a half-hour. FESSLER: That’s no problem. SCP-8212: So, Paul, what can I help you with? FESSLER: Well, we’ve been having some complaints about your lawn. Lotta weeds, good bit overgrown, all that. You know your contract does require you to keep it at a certain aesthetic standard. We sent you a few emails about that, though we didn’t get a response. SCP-8212: I never got any emails. What email do you have on file? FESSLER: Is this one right? SCP-8212: No, I’m at GMail. I don’t… I don’t think that anyone uses HotMail anymore. FESSLER: Ah, thank you. We’ll update. And ma’am, I’m afraid this isn’t good news. I'm coming to say that we’ll probably have to level some fines. SCP-8212: Please tell me there’s a way out of that. FESSLER: Is everything all right? SCP-8212: It’s been a rough couple months, to tell you the truth. FESSLER: Well, we do offer temporary exemptions. So why don’t you just tell me what happened and I’ll see what I can do. SCP-8212: Boy, how long do you have? FESSLER: Long enough. SCP-8212: Then you’d better take a seat. (Fessler sits, as does SCP-8212.) SCP-8212: So I was visiting a friend in Fargo, and happened to be walking on back to the bus station, when I got pulled aside by an officer. He told me he was going to take me back to the station. He didn’t ask where I was; he didn’t seem especially interested in anything I had to say. He took my phone the second I got into the car. He didn’t check my identification or anything. I was pretty quiet on the drive, I guess. I figured, hey, once I get there, we’ll clear it right up. Then when I got there, they handed me over to someone else. No information on what I was being held for, no chance for a call, never even a chance to say my name. I never even entered the building. The handoff was in the parking lot. They just shoved me in the back of a van and drove way, way out. SCP-8212: When they took me out of the van, I was complaining like nobody’s business. But the two guys they had escorting me, they just had no patience for that at all. Didn’t ask for my name. Didn’t even fingerprint me. They just shoved me into a cell, by myself. Nothing but a goddamn slit in the wall. Plus a cot and a sink and a toilet. No windows. I was howling like a dog. But from the second I got there, to the second they let me out, I never talked with a single person. The meals came through the slit, and that was all. SCP-8212: I couldn’t believe that a place like here had a place like that. SCP-8212: The first day I was in there, I was sure that in about fifteen minutes, they’d realize they’d fucked up and give me the biggest, deepest apology you’ve ever heard. But by day four I thought I was going to die in there. On day eight and twelve and seventeen I thought for sure that I was going to die in there. SCP-8212: Then the door opened on the twenty-fourth day. I thought it was the twentieth, because I had miscounted the meals. Back to the van, back to the station. They told me that they had thought I was somebody else. That was it, that was all. No compensation. Barely an apology. They just dropped me off at a corner like they were taking out the trash. FESSLER: Holy shit. SCP-8212: Yeah. Sometimes I think about suing. But I talked with the folks down at Sloane Caine Peterson, and they’re pretty sure that I don’t have a case. FESSLER: That’s definitely a surprise. (Fessler sighs.)2 But I guess they know their stuff. SCP-8212: Maybe it’s for the best. I really just want to forget about it. SCP-8212: I had to pay for my own Greyhound back. SCP-8212: It should’ve been obvious, but when I got back here, I found out that since the cops down in Fargo never asked who I was, they never told anyone where I was, either. So I was about a week and a half from an empty-box funeral. There’d been a search party, all that. My mom said that when I texted her she fell and dropped her phone. FESSLER: Jesus, you were the missing woman. SCP-8212: You saw it in the paper? FESSLER: Yeah. Now I can see it, but before you told me I don’t think I could have guessed. SCP-8212: Man, you’d have been no help at all in the search. FESSLER: Guess not. SCP-8212: So I spent a couple hours of the first day back just calling everyone I knew and telling them I wasn’t dead. But that was just the start of it. Rent was way in arrears. Had to put a whole month’s worth on credit. The power got turned off, so all the food was spoiled, freezer and fridge. Missed a car payment; that was a fun series of calls. The worst part was that I had a lot of stuff on autopay, so I was getting hit with overdraft fees every way you looked. My job was gone, too, but I work for Mitchell down at the Starlight, and Mitchell’s a saint, so I was able to get it back pretty easily. Still, a lot of lost income. The whole thing left me five grand in the hole. If Mitch keeps letting me work doubletime I should be back above water by September, but, you know, a lot of stuff kind of fell by the wayside and I guess the lawn was one of them. I promise I’ll get to it. FESSLER: Jesus. Don’t worry about the lawn for a second. I can promise you no-one’s gonna fine you a dime. SCP-8212: Actually? FESSLER: Actually. I’ll make sure of it. SCP-8212: Well, I really appreciate it. Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you. FESSLER: Don’t worry about it. But a water might be nice.3 SCP-8212: Of course. I’m sorry. You’ve been sitting here this whole time and I haven’t offered you anything. FESSLER: Don’t worry about it. SCP-8212: Is tap water okay for you? FESSLER: Been drinking it my whole life, so I hope so. SCP-8212: You want ice? FESSLER: Sure do. Thanks. Is that Chunky Monkey in the freezer? SCP-8212: You like it? FESSLER: I do. You’re a person of taste. SCP-8212: Kind of you, but I don’t really eat it. It’s my boyfriend’s favorite. FESSLER: Boyfriend? SCP-8212: Yeah, boyfriend. FESSLER: Got it. What’s his name? SCP-8212: I appreciate everything you’re doing, but if you’re here to flirt I’ll have to ask you to clear out. FESSLER: Ah, that’s my bad. I was just asking because my husband4 and I saw you with this beautiful woman last week at McAllister’s. (SCP-8212 laughs.) SCP-8212: Do you ever get tired of being so nosy? FESSLER: Why would I get tired? SCP-8212: I mean, I’d just worry I was turning into a stereotype. FESSLER: That’s a fight I gave up long ago. SCP-8212: You just never know who to tell in this town. FESSLER: You’re telling me. I’ve had more beards than a country band. SCP-8212: Anyway, my boyfriend’s name is Kate. FESSLER: Lovely name for a young man. SCP-8212: You let me know if you and… FESSLER: Whit.5 SCP-8212: You let me know if you and Whit ever want to come to dinner. Not right now, of course, but after August I should be able to get a couple evenings free. FESSLER: I’d like to, but we’ll be moving away by then.6 SCP-8212: Ah, that’s a shame. Where to? (Fessler stands up.) FESSLER: Say, I’m sorry to keep you; I’m sure you want to start getting ready. SCP-8212: Yeah, it is getting to be time. (Fessler opens the door.) SCP-8212: Good to meet you, and thanks again. (Fessler pauses for two seconds in the doorway.) FESSLER: You have a good life, all right? SCP-8212: And I hope you have one too. FESSLER: I mean it. You deserve it.7 (SCP-8212 looks up and smiles.) SCP-8212: Paul. Don’t you worry. I’m having one now. (Fessler closes the door.) In light of this interview, SCP-8212's amnesticization and false-memory insertion was found to have been wholly successful. Also in light of this interview, Dr. Fessler was banned from conducting interviews with anomalies for 12 months, except for anomalies currently under physical containment. Dr. Fessler was also obliged to undergo three or more sessions of grief counseling. August 3, 2016: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Pierre, South Dakota with her wife. She is presently employed as a cook. SCP-8212 is self-containing. January 7, 2022: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Plano, Texas with her wife. She is presently employed as a civil engineer. SCP-8212 is self-containing. March 3, 2023: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: SCP-8212 resides in Plano, Texas with her wife and one child. She is presently employed as a civil engineer. SCP-8212 is self-containing. February 3, 2024: Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8212 were updated to read as follows: For resource conservation purposes, SCP-8212 is no longer being tracked. SCP-8212 is self-containing. Footnotes 1. Unless necessitated by the demands of the backstory, overfamiliarity with anomalies is against Site-48 interview policy. 2. Reactions that would tend to cast doubt on statements made by Foundation front companies are strictly against Site-48 interview policy. 3. Acceptance of sustenance provided by an anomaly is forbidden under Site-48 interview policy unless necessary for survival. 4. This is not a component of the approved backstory. 5. This is not a component of the approved backstory. Additionally, the use of the names of real-life former romantic companions within a backstory is forbidden under Site-48 interview policy. 6. This is not a component of the approved backstory. 7. Unless necessitated by the demands of the backstory, overfamiliarity with anomalies is against Site-48 interview policy. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8212" by habaniah, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8212. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8217 | safe | Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA001 Hey, I’ve left a few messages on the secure line. We really have to talk. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA002 I forwarded them to the Southwest-US breach desk. Site-01's secure communication system is not the reporting line of first resort. You know that. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA003 Right. But this isn’t a breach. I guess it’s arguably an invasion from a single alien organism, but either way, it’s from something we never had contained. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA004 I know that the distinction is immaterial in practice. But I know the breach desk. Their first, second, and third questions are about what destructive or disruptive actions, if any, are being undertaken by the breaching anomaly. That’s not a methodology that would work in this instance. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA005 Why not? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA006 It’s an airship, and it’s just sitting there. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA007 I know I sound crazy. I’m sending over the 8217 file. That should shed a bit more light. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA008 Once you’re finished, or as soon as you’re convinced of need, I’m going to request substantial external assistance, ideally an MTF. Do not scramble anyone without some form of filtering. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA009 Understood. I know 8217. We've never encountered an airship before, but the arrival of one is certainly a tail risk we've planned for. You'll get the support you need. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA010 Deeply appreciated. We have three hundred employees at Site-592. At least eighty are infected already. We may need to amnesticize everyone here several times before this is over. Item#: 8217 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8217-1 instances are to be frozen, with the freezer placed in a Safe-class containment locker at Site-48. Experimentation requests for non-infectious fingers require project team approval. Experimentation requests for infectious fingers require Site Director sign-off and are solely to be conducted upon D-Class subjects; following these experiments, infected personnel will be amnesticized and returned to service. Description: SCP-8217-1 is a set of 22 fingers that appeared on the desk of Site-48 Researcher Masha Straschnov on June 8, 2024. Genetic testing has confirmed that all fingers come from a single humanoid being of an as-yet-unidentified species. Each measure between 5 and 8 centimeters and appear to have been violently severed. When touched, each SCP-8217-1 instance induces a distinct vision of life upon an alien planet. Within the vision, all intelligent lifeforms are perceived as human; the actual appearance of these lifeforms, if extant, is unknown. A minority of SCP-8217-1 visions cause exposed individuals to develop an as-yet poorly-understood disorder characterized by heightened aggression and increased comfort with the concept of human extinction. To avoid this, ‘infectious’ visions are auto-censored by AIC. Using the relative size of astronomical phenomena perceivable in the background of SCP-8217-1 visions, Foundation astronomers successfully triangulated the depicted planet (designated SCP-8217-2) and obtained an image of it through the Extrasolar Observational Array. From orbit, the surface of SCP-8217-2 appears of uniform color and without geographic variation, bearing little resemblance to the lush planet observed in SCP-8217-1 visions. Ongoing explosions are visible at several points across its surface. SCP-8217-2 is orbited by two moons; their orbital speeds imply that the density of SCP-8217-2 is comparable to that of animal biomass. A partial record of SCP-8217-1 visions is below. Designation: SCP-8217-4-1 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are Hanu Cealal, scarcely king. You are tired, bone-tired. You see yourself in the gilded pane that surrounds the hemicycle. Your green robes have been scuffed by hard riding. No crown covers your pate. Against the advice of your aide, you let your eyes drift upward: dozens of kings are gathered, and none of their faces are kind. A few second-sons sit in the crowd, gold-threaded cloth tied over their vacant sockets. You wonder which ones slew their kin. You wonder how they did it. The steward turns to you. He is a slight man, trusted by all. Above reproach, beneath contempt. You nod at him. He nods back, and turns his face to the crowd. “Begging your patience. Begging your patience. The steward yields ground to the dispossessed.” You take the podium. “Gratitude. Gratitude to this assembly of kings. Gratitude to the Royal Federation. Gratitude to the Font-of-Song. Long I have ridden. Long have I feared this day. My hold on Cealalia was broken by my child, and I was banished from my land, from my own rightful domain. He took my diadem from my head; he set me on this cruel journey; he has shown none of the filial respect to which I am entitled—” A voice rings out from above. “King,” it says, “your hardship is yours to bear.” “Begging your patience,” you say, and sigh. “I’ve come to sing my lands away.” “Twenty percent of its loot,” says a voice from the uppermost level. It is King Carrigan, and upon his pronouncement, King Cirhin erupts into laughter. “Why such a beggar’s offer?” Cirhin asks. “Cealalia is not a wealthy land,” says Carrigan. “And the diadem of its royal family has certain powers that could render it difficult to defeat. I don’t like the idea of fighting ten thousand clones for a molehill of gold.” “Permission to elaborate on the diadem?” you ask. “Please,” says Carrigan. “The holder of the diadem has a few powers, most of the standard form associated with a low-level magical artifact: teleporting small objects, conveying memory with a touch. Nothing with which your majesties are unfamiliar.” “Those are plainly not the powers that I reference.” “Yes. Its sole major property, to which King Carrigan refers, is the ability for the holder of the diadem to duplicate himself. But there are numerous limitations to this ability, which impair its usefulness in war. Duplicates cannot maneuver independently. The holder can move all of them at once, or one at a time, but the holder cannot make one shoot and another walk. An army of such duplicates could never ford a river, or take any other action that requires multiple persons to undertake different, though simultaneous, movements. What is more, the holder feels the pain of each duplicate, and must eat copiously, to the point of distending his stomach, to enable the duplication process to occur. Duplicates are typically used solely to impair assassination attempts; there is little chance that your majesties would face an army of them.” "Why reveal this?" asks Carrigan. "To assure you of the soundness of your investment," you say. "I wore the diadem for many years. I know its limits as I know my own heart." “I am not convinced." “I am,” says Cirhin. “Sixty percent.” The chamber is silent. You too are silent. It is the largest loot share ever offered in the chamber; how Cirhin plans to profit off his conquest, none can say. “A generous offer. Gratitude. Gratitude. Are there any beneficial standards of trade that you would request upon my restoration?” King Cirhin laughs again. “King, when my armies have passed through your land, there will be nothing to trade, no-one to trade with, and no throne to restore you to. But you will have no need for those persons—your wealth will be vast as the sun.” You see your grin in the gilded pane. Designation: SCP-8217-4-3 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are King Carrigan, wealthy, cautious. Your retainers sit eighty feet away, on the far side of the hemicycle. When the meeting ends, not more than an hour hence, you will be reunited with them. They are collating bon mots. They know your mood is foul. You are with them so often that you think of them, at points, as part of yourself. They are the part of your brain that soothes anger, that does those things that you did when you were still an heir. Royalty is a second childhood. You know that Cirhin is also a child. “Sixty percent?” you whisper. “You’ve got no chance of making a sesterce.” “Oh, I’m not after profit,” says Cirhin. “Then you’re after the diadem?” “Ah, that I’ll give back to Hanu, once I’ve slain all his kin. If he wants a new family, he can make one as large as he wants, out of the only member of it he’s ever cared for.” “Amusement, then?” “In part. But largely because my advisor has developed a weapon of unparalleled force. It strikes like a dream, he tells me. Explosions so vast that they make new threnodies in the Song. It floats far above the earth, where none can touch it. And the simple act of seeing it drives men to frantic, animal courage. We have built a hundred, at my direction. I myself have not yet seen it in person, but the testing shows that we stand on the brink of a new world.” “This strikes me as a state secret.” “It was. I tell you now because it’s too late to avert it.” “Surely such force is not necessary to defeat the Cealals?” “I just want to make everyone witness our might. It’ll make looting easier, it’ll accelerate future surrenders, and, should the time come to fix certain discrepancies between our historic borders and… well, Carrigan, never mind about that. I want to shock the world. To unnerve it.” “You’ve certainly unnerved me.” “A promising start,” says Cirhin. “But no, I don’t care about Cealalia. That’s why all of it will burn.” Designation: SCP-8217-4-4 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are Rosu Cealal, lately king, helmsman of sixteen eyes in eight heads. One of them is immured, a spare, in the case of disaster. Your designated survivor, it sees only the clean and cushioned walls of the room of its imprisonment. The other seven are in the throne room; six recline in the shadows of the hall, unmoving, and the seventh, recipient of your current attentions, sits the throne. When you claimed it, the weight of the diadem sat easy on your head. You wondered: why not sooner? Now you only wonder why you let your father live. At your left hand sits your dour general; at your right hand sits your younger brother, eyeless Seh, bandage about his face, his aide cradled behind him. Your ministers have left the room, frightened in ways that frightened you. Ansem, the Lord of Fisheries, wouldn’t meet your gaze. He left in a hurry, not more than twenty minutes before. You’re sure he’s on a fast horse to the hinterlands. You think of replacing him. You wonder why you’d bother; he’d be back soon enough, with Hanu. You know these Royal Federation deals: a targeted invasion, a rapid surrender, punishing taxes to pay off the conqueror, and then a gradual return to normalcy. Your father backed an invasion once, and it paid off for him handsomely. You wonder if you yourself should take flight. “Any word from the spies within Cirhinia?” you ask. “Unfortunately, yes,” says the general. “One says that the damage Cirhin intends to exact is going to be… unusually severe, for a Royal Federation intervention.” “Do we know what he means by that?” “I think it might be wise to take Cirhin seriously, but not always literally,” says the general. “But it seems that he’s been tromping around his palace, declaring that he wants to see our whole land burned.” “Can we negotiate with him? I'm not too proud to teleport a missive into his court." “I took the liberty of reaching out already.” “Without my consent?” “Merely an overture. The situation has been developing quickly.” “There’s no hope, is there?” “Don’t say that.” “Is he open to negotiation?” “No. He seems eager to exhibit his new weapon. His airship.” “Perhaps we… we cede a town or two, for his exhibition.” “I… I will reach out. But I am not optimistic.” “What do we know about this airship?” “It is rigid, floating cartilage, like a whale in the sky, and it drops explosive material.” “So they load it up with that?” “No. No, it births it. Like an egg. It is assuredly magical. We successfully placed a spy on the assembly line, and…” “Have we heard anything?” “Nothing useful. We’ve received… ah, seventy messages. But all are gibberish. Not encrypted, just raving. ‘Our world has built its own child’ was one. ‘What is your blood fated for?’ ‘Song’s end.’ ‘The new man flies.’ And, over and over, ‘Better them than us.’” “Is someone playing a joke on us?” “I don’t think so. No. To our body of knowledge about the airship, we must add that those who see it become sick.” Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA011 Situation has evolved. O5-07, please respond. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA012 Elaborate. Team is en route. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA013 Images of the airship are capable of spreading it. They sent it around. Some were amnesticizable; others weren’t. We lost twelve people outright, maybe more. There’s another sixty infected we’ve got barricaded away in the southeast corner of the main building. Some of them escaped into the cells; if we’re lucky, they’re dead. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA014 How long ago was that? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA015 Not sure. I’ll ask. About ten minutes; stabilized as of ninety seconds ago. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA016 You’re not sure? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA017 I don’t remember it. I’m told I popped my phone open and an aide tackled me. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA018 Is the aide still with you? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA019 No. Dead, apparently. Most likely by my hand. I woke up covered in blood. Also, all of this is permanent, and I know it. I’m still getting used to that. It’s like the noise in my head started screaming. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA020 Is there anyone I can speak to who wasn’t infected / amnesticized? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA021 You won’t be getting rid of me so easy. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA022 Russ, we’ve worked together for years. You’re paranoid; that’s all it is. I can also assure you that nobody’s going to hold you responsible for actions undertaken while under the influence of a cognitohazard. You didn’t join up yesterday. I’m sure you’ve been on the other side of the desk, telling someone else that nobody blames them for whatever they did when something else was riding their mind. I just need access to someone with a memory of the actual breach to get a sense of what you need down at 592. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA023 No. I’ll ask around later. For now, send an MTF on top of the current team, would you? Designation: SCP-8217-4-7 | Infectiousness: Positive Log of Associated Vision: You are marching through the plains. When you arrived, they were all watching. It gave you a thrill to see so many eyes upon you. Such fear, such work to be done. Then, one by one, they looked up at the ██████ mass above you, ██████████████████████████████. You saw their knees weaken. Grins spread across their faces. An understanding of their fate. An eagerness for it. When they fought, it was not out of hope but for love of it. Rabid, but vastly outmatched. A pleasure to slay. You look forward to your own end, but there are so many joys that lurk before it. You and your brethren took their corpses out to the front gate and set them aflame. Then, from a far distance, the airship laid its egg upon the village’s remains. So disproportionate. A ruin far exceeding the village it replaced. You looked and love bloomed in your heart, the love of a father for a child that has far surpassed him, and then you kept marching. To clean your weapon seems so shameful. You wish all the blood stayed upon it. You wish that you could look at it and see all at once the fruit of your efforts. You wear the robes of Cirhinia, purple and red, but Cirhin’s not who you march for. You march for your boy. He’s so sharp, so lovely. You’ll give him the world. Excerpted Written Material (Background of Vision, SCP-8217-4-5) and the admiral dreams too— of a great new airship vast as loathing slow as continents surer than sunrise steady as time unloading its fire on a land so scarred that none of it makes any difference. It calls to him as whalesong echoes in the deep, in the places things lie before they are real, and he knows when he dies that he’ll ride that great ship till it clears past the land and leaves it behind and then goes on sailing surer than sunrise metronome-steady until he forgets any end to the sky O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA024 I pulled up the last few minutes of the log. Unsure how it happened, but can confirm that, at minimum, one co-pilot was not wearing a filter on the ride-in. There’s going to be an investigation. All I can tell you is that the second team has been apprised and is forty minutes out. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA025 Right. Crash took out part of the southeastern building. Some infected escaped and went into the northeastern. Some asshole didn’t barricade one of the exterior doors properly, and now, best I can tell, another four people are dead. Lost the other two spec units, too. Also, might be there’s a few infected still wandering the desert. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA026 Any idea about personnel losses among the infected? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA027 Not yet, but they’re certainly making a lot of noise. And we still have access to life-signs tracking, so we know that at least six humanoid anomalies in the containment cells are dead. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA028 They made a mural on the windows. Attempted contaminant. It’s a depiction of an airship, I think. It’s not very good. It’s made out of what you think it’s made out of. Designation: SCP-8217-4-10 | Infectiousness: Positive Log of Associated Vision: A few fires over, a detachment of Cirhinian soldiers has begun stabbing each other. No officers now in the morass, only the airships and the masses that birthed them. No resistance sufficient to justify the peace that characterizes order. No need for so many soldiers to finish this land. For some, for the lucky, there’s no need to delay the ecstasy of death. Halfway across the fire, a man begins speaking. “If you went up in space, you’d just see the buildings and roads. That’s not our footprint. That’s what we are. We’re barely humans. We’re the tadpoles. They’re the frogs. We are the fetal intermediate forms, the chrysalises, and true life is them, inanimate, and we finally built one able to stand on its own.” He pauses. He stares at the fire with holy intensity. “We thought we were people. We’re not. We’re the chaff. And soon our child won’t need us.” You don’t know why he says all this. You know all this. You learned it the moment you first saw its beauty above you. ████████████████████████████. ███████████████████████. Then it hits you. He’s trying to bore your camp to anger. He wants to be killed. You stand up. “You selfish shit,” you say. “It’s not your turn.” He grins. He grabs his weapon. The others around the fire cheer. They’re jealous of you. They wish they had thought to get up first, to steal the moment, to have the chance to fight. But you’re of two minds about it. You have no desire to give him what he wants. You don’t. The next day, the camp departs. He is left on the empty plain, crying out for water. Abdomen opened skyward. A stray airship will end him, eventually. Or thirst, or infection. You smile to think of it. He should have been more patient. Excerpted Written Material (Background of Vision, SCP-8217-4-6) Better void than loss. Better steel than flesh. Better cold than heat. Better the fire than what it replaces. Better silence than song. Better death than stagnation. Better them than us. Designation: SCP-8217-4-14 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are King Cirhin, at your war minister's door. “I can talk through some new weapon ideas, Your Majesty.” “What would be the point?” He grins. “You’re right, Your Majesty. What would be the point?” “I was wondering if there were any… earlier prototypes of the airship. Before you settled on the current design.” “There were never prototypes.” “You mean the initial design of the airship was its current form?” “No, I never designed it. I found the first one in the desert two years ago. The pilot seat had the bones of an animal I’d never seen. They were petrified, many millennia dead. It came from a different world, I think. One that manufactured them for a use of their own.” “Why didn’t you tell me this?” “You would never have understood.” “Until I saw it.” “Until you saw it. Now you understand.” “So why did it come here?” “You’re already learning. You didn’t ask why the animal drove it here. You asked why it came.” “Answer.” “It came because it wanted to reproduce.” “But what triggered it? None of our airships have decamped for the stars.” “No, not yet. They will. This, too, is part of it: vestigial organs decay, the caterpillar is swallowed in the metamorphosis, it is the fate of children to bury their parents. The airships target intelligent life, and though they are starting with Cealalians they will not end until we are scoured from this earth. Only then will they turn toward the stars.” The minister took a sip from his own cup. “The illness, the rage, is like a signal that causes a cell to die. It’s meant to help us yield to them. To these playful beasts for which the world was made.” You stare at your minister in wonderment. After a moment, three words escape your lips. “That’s so beautiful.” Designation: SCP-8217-4-16 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are a traveler. You are hungry. You see the lights of distant villages in the fog. You know that there used to be more of them. Designation: SCP-8217-4-19 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are Seh. You see nothing. The bodies of your brother pace up and down the cave. The air is stuffy, but cold. So much stone is above you. You nearly feel its weight. “The food is late,” says Rosu, from several mouths. “How late?” “One hour.” “Oh. Maybe it’s coming.” “No. No. It’s not about the food. I am first priority on distribution. If there’s any interruption in food provision, then that means… Seh, we have no idea what’s going on up there.” “Don’t you have a spare up there? To check the situation out?” “This is my spare. You’re talking to my spares!” “Are you worried about the food?” “Yes. Slightly. Should it worsen.” You are careful, precise with your words. “You can convert anything into biomass when eating it, in order to duplicate yourself.” “Yes, but that doesn’t give me nutrients. And it wouldn’t do anything for you.” “No. But it does mean that, even down here, you can create an indefinite number of duplicates. Mute and barely conscious.” Rosu pauses. “Seh. I’d feel all their pain.” “Yes. You’d want to kill them before you eat them.” “That is utterly repulsive. I… I fail to see it as obviously preferable to death.” “If you don’t want to, you can hand me the diadem and I will.” Silence. He’s dumbfounded. “Thank you, Seh.” His voice is soft and weak. “I don’t… I don’t want to. But I’ll bear it in mind.” You don’t say anything. What would you say? It’s quiet for some time. Hard to say how long. A soft breeze starts halfway down the cavern and rustles your toes. You hear him weeping. Only one of him. The others are mute. You reach out your hand and let him take it. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA029 You said an MTF was coming. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA030 Sending an external security team is common practice for rapid amnesticization of unarmed persons. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA031 I said we needed an MTF. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA032 What issue do you have with the team you received? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA033 I can see one of their arms outside of the window. I know folks on the other side of the barricade. The walls aren't soundproofed. I know enough of what's going on. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA034 MTF is en route. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA035 I have that photo on my phone still. If I don’t get backup in fifty minutes, I’m sending it across the site directors' network. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA036 Russ, you don’t have to do that. We’re trying our best here. Sending that across the network would doom thousands at least, billions at worst. It would, among many other things, irreparably destroy your legacy. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA037 You don’t seem to think there’s sufficient urgency here. Just trying to respond to the situation. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA038 Okay. I would add that the Foundation is more than willing to subject individuals and associates thereof to customized punishment regimes for novel infringements of the Foundation’s disciplinary code. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA039 There it is. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA040 I wouldn’t be spending time on threats, if I was you. You don’t have that much time. Designation: SCP-8217-4-20 | Infectiousness: Positive Log of Associated Vision: You had a name once, but all those who called you it are gone. You pass the lip of another smoking blotch of plain, on all fours, face inches off the ground. Dust and ash invade the streaks of sloughed-off skin. Yesterday you were caught on the edge of a bombing. You were the lucky one. Your red, raw arms go up-and-over. Up-and-over. Your sweat-drops fall with flakes within them. If this used to be the town you think it was, then you can’t be more than five miles from the riverside. Fresh water ran there. That can’t have ceased. Wind blows. A minute’s coolness, though it scrapes at your burned back. You… You sit up, forcing a fluid motion. The pain hits all at once, and you cry out. You smell rotting flesh on the wind. Before you, ████████████████████████████████, head-on. The contempt whispers off it. You know at once that you are not worth hatred. █████████████████████. You wonder who has had this chance. To hear the Song, to see the lips from which it issues, to know that you are among the last to hear it because of how soon the issuer will end it. You are thankful to it for showing you this truth. Its payload crushes you. You are gone before the explosion, smeared on the vacant plain, former leaseholder ushered out of the homestead. No, the world was never yours at all. Designation: SCP-8217-4-21 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are Seh. So many empty sockets. You felt him stab your heart. You felt him stab your heart. You felt him stab your heart. Unsure how long you’ve been down there. How many measures have passed in the Song. The distant sound of blasts, occasional, above you. You eat the flesh of your own haunch. His bodies stir, at random, around the chamber. Your bodies, too. Slow and fitful steps. It’s been so long since the two of you have spoken. It probably helps him to forget you’re alive. Before he could walk, before you could speak, you lost your eyes to him. He didn’t mean to take them. Common practice. Meant to avoid potential bumps in the succession. You wipe your meat from your lips. Uniform. Universal. And what’s the rest of your body, too? No room for spite. No point in it, here at the end of the world. He sits beside you. “We’re the last ones left,” he says. “We have to be. We’ve been down here for over a year now. I’ve been counting our sleeps. There’s no word from above.” “So what if we are?” “So what if we are? Seh, the airships are made to kill everyone living. Just seeing them makes people long to kill and die for them. If we’re the last ones, then the planet is dead, and they’re just waiting for us to die to escape to the stars.” “There must be others, in bunkers this deep.” “Maybe. There can’t be many. We might be the last trace of life in the world.” “Then we should wait down here for as long as we can, no?” “That’s almost cowardice.” “No. No. When we die, they… the first airship came from somewhere. You heard it. Our own spies said it. Our own generals confirmed it. The airship emptied the world it was manufactured on, then it journeyed out into space and found Cirhin. Once we die, the airships will go out into space. There’s thousands of them now. They’ll find other planets. But if we can stay alive, then the two of us can keep all of them locked up here.” “It’s only a matter of time. Within… five years? Ten? By sheer chance, they’ll bring down a bomb right over our heads. Two, three direct hits is all it would take to dislodge us. We’re running out the clock, no matter what.” “Then we should do all we can.” “I don’t know if I’m strong enough. To just sit here waiting for death.” “One day. Then another day. And don’t forget: I’m here, too.” “Was it my fault?” “No.” “But it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t…” “It wouldn’t have started in Cealalia, but it would have come here. Cirhin wanted to use his airships. He would have used them on someone. Someone would come to sing their lands away.” “I… I really miss the world.” “I do too,” you say. “I miss how it smelled when it rained.” “Yeah.” He sighs. “I miss how it felt to ride. The wind in my face. The warmth on my skin. I liked… I could start a long list.” “There is time.” Rosu laughs. “I would do horrible things for some cake.” “That’s believable. We’re currently doing horrible things for food that tastes much worse.” Rosu leans forward. “I’m going to kill myself. Maybe not today. But soon.” You don’t say anything. He grabs your hand. He's wearing the diadem; his memories flow into you as soon as he touches you. Things he doesn't want lost. “I know it’s not honorable," he says. "But I really can’t take it." Eyes. Body. What’s the rest of your life? “I understand,” you say, into the dark. “Love you, Seh.” “Love you, Rosu.” Too late for prayer. Still, it’s a few hours before the last of them go quiet. Elsewhere, distant airships lay their eggs. You fumble on the ground. You climb over the corpses of your brother, the corpses of yourself, some half-eaten, some still warm. You come upon the knife. You pick it up. You put it down. He really couldn’t take it. But you can take it. You come upon the diadem and place it on your head. You scrape clay and dust from the cave and thrust it in your mouth. Over and over. Filling yourself up. And when your stomach is swollen and distended you divide— Two bodies. Both of them hungry. Both of them scraping the wall. Both of them filling up, splitting, each… You’re in no hurry. There’s plenty of material. And by the time you surface, you’ll be too numerous to bomb. You are eating with sixteen, thirty-two mouths. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA041 Hi Russ, reaching out to say that the MTF is ten minutes out. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA042 You can deploy fast when you want to. Great! I have some good news, though. Major breakthrough. We were able to get out of the courtyard and supply amnestics to a number of surviving personnel. Unfortunately, a lot of losses on their side, but they managed to mostly depopulate themselves on the other side of the divide well in advance, so it was a faster takeover than we’d feared. We’ve reestablished control of the northwestern building fully. It also looks like all or almost all of the infected relocated there, so we’ve been able to meet up with survivors of the northeastern building. The worst is fully over. If you’d be amenable, feel free to scuttle the MTF. We really just need aviation specialists. Not many; just some. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DA043 Excellent. Why aviation specialists? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA044 Fair question. Uploading a relevant picture. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA045 Oh, you have a cognitohazard filter? Charming. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA045 And you got me locked out of the network, too? Busy girl. That's fine. There's failsafes. Site communication is very, very important. Can't be taken down so easy. That's why we're talking, isn't it? Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA045 Truth is, we probably don’t even need aviation specialists. We can figure it out ourselves. I'm glad you're not infected, really. Can't wait to see fear on your smug face. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA046 Can't wait to watch the pain come. Welcome, O5-07. ------ > 592 /r /n_i /i Please submit passphrase. > from the innermost center of the flame gushed forth a host of colors which spread on everything beneath Passphrase accepted. Please confirm. > y Confirmation accepted. CONNECTION LOST Site-592 is no longer capable of accessing the Site-01 secure line. Partially drafted messages have been automatically sent. Site-592 Director Russ Braithwaite 08.22.2024 #8217DA047 You flew up when you joined. And I've nodded and smiled but there's been something in me that's wanted to show you who you are. There won't be much time before we all go but there'll be time enough to exhibit everythign I can imagine upon you like a fruit just there to be consuemd before the lasdt bloody sunset I will leave you howling scremaing you poor foul bitch i will leave you so far below me that you will lick my shoes and cyy out for mercy like an old sick The Site-592 warhead has been remotely detonated. > logoff Success! Designation: SCP-8217-4-22 | Infectiousness: Negative Log of Associated Vision: You are Seh. Seh is below and above and before you, pressed down hard, sweaty back on sweaty back, and your ribs are fire and the air around you burns. You are muttering, a soft whisper into a small crevasse not occupied by flesh. You say they float above the surface 600 meters and to build to that peak, given a surface area of 464 trillion square meters, needs 280.2 quadrillion cubic meters Explosions come frequent as heartbeats, and bring with them white-hot, seizing pain, doubled and redoubled, nothing you could dream of, nothing you could know. 3,000 airships each 30 minutes each drops a bomb of 42 cubic meters meaning each year that is 2.25 trillion cubic meters You pause to bite your fingers off. They might not be yours. You feel it all the same. 123,750 years then I can eat the airships then I can die You hope life blooms fast on your great corpse. With your mouth, and some shoving, you deposit your fingers in your deplumed palms. unsure where life is or if there is life, send to each planet in case there is life, they came from somewhere they’re going elsewhere Somewhere, upon one of your heads, the diadem awakens. The fingers, full of the memories of the world you ate, are fluttered away to their destination. Scent is fetid. Acrid. Rotting self and human shit. You feel yourself trillionfold, being devoured, swallowing excrement. Even the screams are pain. No pause to your agony. You cannot take it. But it bites and tears and goes and goes and goes. Unconsciousness comes, a blessed instant, then you wake up screaming elsewhere. You are the Song and the pain of the Song. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DB001 Sent over all documentation for the -592 detonation in line with internal reporting requirements. You know I'm not especially trigger-happy, but still submitting voluntarily to a post-mortem investigation to ensure best practice was followed. O5-01 08.22.2024 #8217DB002 Received. I, for one, trust your judgment, but will look this over myself and convene a commission after the weekly meeting. O5-01 08.22.2024 #8217DB003 It's your turn to chair ad-hoc investigations, but presuming your recusal, I'll send this on to -08. O5-01 08.22.2024 #8217DB004 Pretty tough break, though. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DB005 Ah, well. O5-07 08.22.2024 #8217DB006 Better them than us. Eschatophobia SCP Anthology 2024 Autophobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8217" by habaniah, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8217. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8220 | safe | A bit too sweet, but in a good way. Like mom's. close Info X SCP-8220: For Your Birthday Author: Zenobiyl 58.63% (+51) 41.37% (-36) -% (+0) -% (-0) SCP-8220 ITEM #: SCP-8220 OBJECT CLASS: Safe SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: Foundation staff may request access to SCP-8220. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8220 is a three-layered vanilla cake with strawberry and blueberry toppings. A plastic ornament reading 'happy birthday' is partially buried inside SCP-8220 and can only be removed by an individual on their birthday. This ornament contains a message addressed to the individual from an emotionally significant figure in their life, including the following: Close relatives, including those recently deceased1 Romantic partners Close friends Role models The described flavor of SCP-8220 varies by individual. ADDENDUM 8220.1: Test Logs The following results have been observed during testing of SCP-8220. Subject Message Described Flavor Eleanor Danry (28F) I'll always love you Ellie…give us a call soon, ok? "A bit too sweet, but in a good way. Like mom's." James Harper (48M) We're your family now, Jim…we got you no matter what! "Sour, but the aftertaste is better…like honey." Rebecca Maynor (51F) We love and care for you more than anything…it will get better! "Flavorless. And they tried so hard, too…" Connor Austin (23M) It wasn't your fault… "Burnt." ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8220" by Zenobiyl, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8220. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: Birthday Cake 01 Author: Chris Gladis License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://flic.kr/p/eeq4k Footnotes 1. See Addendum 8220.1 |
SCP-8222 | safe | A Tabletop-RPG rulebook accompanied by an immersive Storyteller. I'm really gonna try to make this out, but the storyteller could be everyone in our fandom. Notice from the Record And Information Security Apartment Personnel without 3/8222 clearance are not granted access to the file below. Those who unauthorizedly bypass this point are at risk of exposing themselves to infohazard and/or temporal anomalous effects. You have been warned. By proceeding, you give tacit consent that you have formal permissions or other valid reasons to continue your access. Item#: 8222 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: The sole digital copy of SCP-8222 is to be kept within this database and access to it is limited to staff above clearance level 3 who are to test or use it and have obtained written approval in advance. Foundation's crawler programs are to continuously analyze and browse through publications and the public Internet to monitor any record containing sufficient information of SCP-8222, restricting its dissemination utilizing amnestics, countermemetics, or critical modification to certain instances, and delete/destruct any illicit copies of SCP-8222, to prevent leak of esoteric information and further consequences like "Lifted Veil" scenario, in which the existence of Foundation would be known to the general population. All experiments or activities based on SCP-8222 should be recorded in detail and then securely uploaded to this database. Description: SCP-8222 is a series of records composing a Tabletop RPG1 rulebook, demonstrating a comprehensive manual titled "SCP: Panorama", which elaborates on a whole system of world settings and how to build characters and interact with entities and phenomena, using esoteric, professional terminologies from Foundation and other GoIs, including Global Occult Coalition and a few more normalcy-protecting organizations; and a rather simple numerical system to introduce randomization using dices and to calculate statistics, eg. ability/skill scores and attribute values. SCP-8222 has no additional story modules featuring campaign settings. However, regarding its simplicity, players can improvise narratives and distribute the free-form role-play interest to peer players. SCP-8222 was retrieved from sequential radio signals detected by Foundation's Midwest Observatory in April 2021, in the conformation of multilingual translations of a same content. After its first delivery had finished, the signal repeated three times on the frequency range of [REDACTED] GHz, before researchers on-site could confirm this pervasive informational security breach had ended and took countermeasures to archive SCP-8222 and intercept its widespread circulation. The source SCP-8222 emanated from could only be traced back to a rough direction from the center of the Milky Way, with no further indications of sapient entities or civilizations on that way. When intactly2 copied via any form (either digital, printed or parascientific projection), the anomalous effect manifests once a sample of media with SCP-8222 stored legibly is available on hand, and at least one sapient entity, which must be capable of reading and comprehending SCP-8222, starts to interact with their character card or converse with each other in the purpose of beginning role-playing, and insert perspectives of their in-universe identities. Upon activation, a temporal deviation encompassing all participants of the game, including people, entities, and objects that engaged in the game, would form and exhibit a significantly faster flux of time compared to the baseline time outside. This inconsistency of time would immediately vanish once a course of gameplaying comes to an end or disperses halfway due to players' loss of concentration or failure to engage in the role-playing any longer. If the role of the game master3 was absent or wasn't assigned in time4, an intangible entity (designated SCP-8222-A) will be summoned into the aforementioned temporal deviation, serving to tell background stories and calculate points and bonuses required for the game, and to carry the game forward by entrusting players to make decisions, as human game masters do. SCP-8222-A appears to be a gender-neutral, temperate, yet emotionally compelling human voice, or an anonymous account going by the username "Parawatcher" on occasions of online group gaming. Though English is most commonly spoken, evidence shows that it's capable of using any language that could be mutually understood by all players. Efforts to figure out its origin and composition have failed thus far, due to its unwillingness to reply on these topics. SCP-8222-A would disappear along with the temporal anomalous effect triggered by SCP-8222 when the game ends or pauses, or a new player was assigned its role of storytelling and hosting the game, rendering the entity no longer needed. SCP-8222-A was first discovered on May 15, 2021, recorded in the footage of Experiment Log 4 (see below in Addendum 8222.2). Before then, SCP-8222 was simply documented as an overlooked thus unspecified temporal/probabilistically anomalous item. Addendum 8222.1 - Excerpts from SCP-8222 Below is the full table of contents of SCP-8222. For all excerpts available, please contact the Lead Researcher. Panorama of the Paranormal. Foreword Roles — Panorama Weaver/Parawatcher (PW) — Player (PL) — Player Character (PC) Rules — Dices —— Downward Compatibility —— Coalescence —— Carry System —— As Indicators Routes — Character Properties —— Basic Information —— Basic Information You could fill in names, aliases, genders (if applicable), and some portraits if you are interested. These will not influence the performance of your character, but serve for better flashing them out. —— Six Values —— Six Values These mark the most preliminary, essential properties of your character. ——— Elan-Vital Energy (EVE) ——— Elan-Vital Energy (EVE) Elan-Vital Energy is emitted by any living creatures, including humans, animals and plants, even microbes. It forms a field around the subject, which attenuates by distance. The field will weaken or strengthen according to the health and life conditions of the subject, so it can be quantified as an indicator of your character's Health. EVE points decrease upon injuries, diseases, and other life-threatening effects, and can be increased by healing, medication, and rest. The maximum of EVE depends on your character's Fitness, two times of it. See below for further information. When EVE reduces to zero, your character dies. (See below for terms of resurrection) EVE radiation has an aspect that one could use special observing devices (eg. VERITAS or Occulus) to distinguish its "form" to infer whether the subject is anomalous or not. Reality-benders, thaumaturgists, and some others are labeled with different colors by such devices. An exception is Type Black, or half-god, which emits no EVE radiation at all, albeit still being a humanoid, and hence can't be discerned or detected at all. ——— Intelligence (INT) ——— Intelligence (INT) Intelligence score counts up to a maximum of 20, and represents your character's ability to utilize certain knowledge or use skills related to intellectual operations. It is taken into the total calculation of possibility when performing such checks. An average score is 10, and generally, points that range to 20 follow the rule of normal distribution if you use the 3D6 method to roll your points. ——— Fitness (FIT) ——— Fitness (FIT) Fitness score counts up to a maximum of 20, and represents your character's physical constitution, as well as their capability to endure injuries and diseases. It affects the overall power you can deploy within close combats. It can be increased by certain practices. After getting your FIT score, double it to get the initial, also the maximum limit of EVE points. ——— Agility (AGI) ——— Agility (AGI) Agility score counts up to a maximum of 20, and represents your character's dexterity to react physically to complex, sometimes dangerous situations, and how probably will they succeed in dodging, sneaking, and acting quickly on improvision. ——— Humes (HUM) ——— Humes (HUM) Hume, as a unit, measures the intensity of reality, or simpler to be known as "how real the reality is". The non-anomalous world as we know it, serves as a universal standard for baseline reality, where Hume counts 100. If one's reality intensity around them is lower than the subject themselves, they can potentially change or alter the surroundings by free will. This is how reality-benders operate. Certain non-sapient entities, areas, or something affected by other anomalous phenomena will possess lower or higher Hume levels than 100, that will affect subjects who encounter them according to their fixed properties. Generally, if not altered by other means, one who scores higher than 110 Humes will be considered a basic reality-bender. Typical non-anomalous humans usually hold to 100. See below in the part of Reality-Bending Ability to be informed of how such a character works. ——— Sensibility (SEN) & Cognitohazard Resistance Value (CRV) ——— Sensibility (SEN) & Cognitohazard Resistance Value (CRV) Sensibility score counts up to a maximum of 20, and represents your character's ability to sense the environment, discern things mentally, and discover subtle hints and hidden information. As a complement for AGI, it reflects the overall tendency of how deep your character will be interacting with the physical world, but rather with their senses and intuition, not actual activities. Therefore, the Cognitohazard Resistance Value is heavily influenced by it. If one's Sensibility is too high, they will be more prone to cognitohazard effects, as it will be easier for them to catch sight (or other senses) of the anomaly. The sum of SEN and CRV, initially, is always 20. You should get your score of Sensibility first, then minus it with 20 to fill in the CRV. For some who are specially trained to resist cognitohazard, as for certain task forces and field agents, however, their CRV can score higher than that, making the sum exceed 20. For this case, CRV will be their skill points regarding such training adding up to their basic CRV score. — Expertise — Expertise Amateur knowledge and skill points usually do not exceed 10. 11~20 are the professional realm, assigned by the character's occupation or certain educational background. —— Knowledge —— Non-anomalous Abilities (Skills) ——— Languages ——— Languages Language skills are scaled from 0 to 5. 0: No knowledge. 1: Beginner level. 2: Intermediate level. 3: Advanced level. 4: Near native level. 5: Native level. This works as a factor in deciding the likelihood your character would succeed in conveying information, as well as inquiring, persuading, interrogating, and eavesdropping. ———— ISO Languages ———— Other Languages ———— Dialects ———— Dialects A variant of an ISO language is deemed a dialect. If one doesn't know about a dialect of a language they can speak, 2 points will be taken off the inherited main language skill points when comprehending or using the dialect. If the character has Linguistic knowledge at the professional level, the punishment point will be reduced to 1. ——— Practical Skills —— Anomalous Abilities —— Anomalous Abilities Three types of abilities are commonly known as superpowers for human characters: thaumaturgy, reality-bending, and other abilities. Thaumaturgy is a kind of theorized magic that can be learned and mastered later in life. Reality-bending is mostly congenital and doesn't require one to learn intentionally, but there are cases that one could be transformed into a reality-bender later in life. Only certain anomalous effects, divine powers (as seen below in Non-Player Characters and Entities), and in rare cases, other reality-benders (see below in the table of Ability Ranges), can carry out such transformation, or enhance existing reality-bending abilities. As for other abilities that don't fall into these two categories, most of them are not specifically named, due to their various, non-typical, uncommon natures. They are hereafter loosely categorized into Mass & Energy Effect and Informational Effect, according to the subjects they cast effect on. There are several established categories of humanoid anomalies based on their EVE Aspect Radiation form, that will be automatically colored by special devices upon detection. Type Blue: Thaumaturgists (Thaumaturgy users). Type Green: Reality-benders (Ontokinetic ability users). Type Cyan/Aqua: Combination of Type Blue and Type Green. Type Red: Regenerators (Resurrection ability users). Type Yellow: Polymorphs (Auto-metamorphosis ability users). Type Gray: Post-mortem reanimators. [DATA EXPUNGED] Type Black: Usually high-tier mixed-ability reality-benders that are characterized by not emitting any detectable EVE radiation. But these terms are less commonly used. It's not recommended to use them on Players' Characters, since they could confuse other players who do not possess adequate knowledge of such lores. Moreover, except for Type Blue and Green, other terms are less representative and appear to be complicated and obsolete over the years. ——— Reality-Bending Ability ——— Reality-Bending Ability Calculations of reality-bending ability are simpler compared to the complicated processes of thaumaturgy and diverse, mutated variants of other non-specific abilities. Reality-bending ability is simple yet powerful, that usually depends on one factor only: Hume level. As mentioned above, Hume is a unit used to measure reality intensity, and its baseline is 100. An area bearing higher intensity is more "real", that is more stable, consistent, self-coherent (conforming to causality and reasonable logic), and hence hard to be bent. Usually, Hume levels only apply to places where material exists, or at least spacetime exists. As how time is applied to the physical world as a measurement of the world's fluctuation, reality intensity indicates the world's rationality and stability. If the Hume level is raised or dented in a region, the bump or dent tends to be evened out in proportion to the distance to the center, as how dunes run down in the sand. Generally, reality intensity in a certain spacetime adheres to the law of conservation. But if the bump or dent is occupied by a creature or a similar self-sustaining system, it can remain on its higher or lower level without being flattened by its inorganic surroundings. Reality-bending is a non-boolean ability that can be influenced by Hume level, EVE score, and some randomness. A regular check can be carried out as: Prerequisite: the reality-bender must know the existence of the subject they are going to cast ability on. They can't manipulate things they don't know. The subject doesn't necessarily need to be within their direct sight. Use the ×10-1 attenuation formula to calculate the Hume level at the position of the subject. Half-adjust is applicable. Take the example of a reality-bender of 110 Humes, and their subject is 22 meters away. 22 is rounded down to 20, and that will be 110 - ( 20 / 10 ) = 108 This is 8 Humes higher than the baseline, so the difference is 8. Next, roll 1D20 to get a point, and take that off from the difference. For example, if you got 1D20=10, then the minus will be 8 - 10 = -2 A negative number means a failure. If you get 7, then it's 8-7=1 for a nose out to succeed in performing the magic. If the reality-bender is injured or so, that will count too. For example, if their EVE lowers to 50, then take the proportion (50/100=0.5 here). It should be multiplied by the reality difference (0.5×8=4 here) to be eventually checked by the dice. In this example, the whole calculation would be like [ 110 - ( 20 / 10 ) - 100 ] × ( 50 / 100 ) - 7 = -3 Hence, they will fail to deploy their superpower spells if they are half-injured. It might look scary, but you will eventually be used to it and able to enjoy its fun. ——— Thaumaturgy ——— Other Abilities ———— Mass & Energy Effect ————— Physical Effect ————— Biological Effect ———— Informational Effect ————— Predictive Ability — Background Story —— Occupations —— Occupations Usually, only one occupation applies to a character at one time. If not, you should avoid conflicts between multiple professions, or you need a reasonable explanation for that. —— Life Experiences —— Mission: Your Voyage Non-Player Characters, Entities & Phenomena Events — Scenarios Afterword Appendixes — Character Card Addendum 8222.2 - Experiment Logs ▷ Show Experiment Log 1 ▽ Hide Experiment Log 1 Time: May 4, 2021. Participants: Alexis Talcite, lead Researcher of SCP-8222; Holan Wessel, on-site MTF team member of Site-17; Milo Norris, visiting researcher from Site-██. Place: Sector C versatile meeting room 8, Site-17. (A printed version of SCP-8222 was placed on the center of the ecliptical desk. All three participants took seats next to each other. A mechanical clock was hanging on the wall at the end of the room for reference.) Dr. Talcite: We can't sit that close. Look, if I was GM, a curtain would needed for veiling some of my actions. So that - (Dr. Talcite fetch the book of SCP-8222, and slightly rearranged the seats.) Researcher Norris: We have no stories for a campaign to role-play on. Dr. Talcite: Let's fabricate a makeshift. Agent Wessel: I'm not quite well-versed in TTRPGS, you know, the rules and calculations. Dr. Talcite: Most calculations are done by the GM, uh, "PW" here. Take it easy, guys. It's just an experiment, looking for how would it function like a normal game. Most of the actual rules are self-explanatory, you'll get familiar while playing. (All three people glanced at the clock. It was still ticking normally as seen from the video recorder.) Researcher Norris: It hasn't started yet. Dr. Talcite: Perhaps enough talk for us. Back on the topic and - (pause) character cards? Agent Wessel: One moment. Researcher Norris: Sorry. Anyone has suggestions for where to start? Dr. Talcite: A reckless idea. Is there anything noteworthy happened yesterday to you? Researcher Norris: My car broke down on the way. Dr. Talcite: Would you mind elaborating further? (Researcher Norris mentioned a trivial incident that blocked her car's rim brake and triggered automated lockdown. Dr. Talcite retold the story as below.) Dr. Talcite: So we've got our background story. You, as Milo, driving the car down interstate highway ███, when suddenly one of the indicator lights on your dashboard started to flash, alerting you something was wrong. You pulled over to the side of the road, and the car wouldn't start again. Researcher Norris: I would try to figure out which part was broken. Does my dashboard have names or codes on it? Dr. Talcite: No, just like in reality. Researcher Norris: I examine the car, and try to find out what went wrong. Dr. Talcite: Do a sensibility check. (Rolling dice) Oh, here is 2. Your Sensibility is 12, and add on 5 points as an amateur machinist. So.. it's 19. Not enough for a regular incident check, according to the rule. That needs 20. You failed to discern your brake was obstructed. (The video recorder captured that the clock had visibly gone slower.) Researcher Norris: That's exactly what happened. If only I had remembered my car is electric, I wouldn't be so silly to think it's a piston seizure. Agent Wessel: Where am I? Dr. Talcite: If you've finished your card. Researcher Norris: I call for help. Dr. Talcite: No one was nearby. You could phone the emergency rescue, but before they come, as you never know it's the rim brake, you could try to reboot your car. Run a randomness check to decide whether you could "succeed". (Norris rolled the dice. The result was 1d6=3.) Researcher Norris: (Laughter) I'm not sure but yes, if I drove on, perhaps I would die as fuck. Dr. Talcite: As you waited for someone to come - Researcher Norris: Is the clock stopped? (Agent Wessel raised his head.) Agent Wessel: I guess so. Dr. Talcite: You are actually not participating. Are you affected by the time halt? Agent Wessel: Not sure. Might because I was working on this sheet? (Wessel seemed to have finished the character table.) Dr. Talcite: Okay, let's say you, as Holan, were on a mission that day and happened to meet Milo on that road. Agent Wessel: Wait, shall we check this? (Wessel rotated the video camera to the direction of the room door, then left the seat to the door with the character card in his hand. The camera captured a few people outside in slow motion for a very short while when the door was ajar; then the scene returned to usual. Wessel closed the door cautiously and went back.) Agent Wessel: Have you seen that? (Norris adjusted the recorder to the previous position. The clock also returned to normal speed.) Researcher Norris: The pause is released? Dr. Talcite: Yep. Once we drift away from the game, it tends to break. Temporal anomaly isn't mentioned directly in the original version, but our document says you must be concentrated to let it persist, and so. I don't know its definition of "concentrated", though. Agent Wessel: Shall we start again? Dr. Talcite: No hurry. Did you notice the probability issue? The dice seemed to know details in the past, even though we don't, if the story setting is same as real life. It might only work if the event really happened. If it's also predictive, then what for a fictional background? Researcher Norris: Well, I was thinking to transplant some D&D campaigns to this system. I don't really believe that fantastical setting could come true if this SCP isn't reality-bending. Dr. Talcite: Prediction isn't the same as reality-bending. We could test it out. <END LOG> ▷ Show Experiment Log 2 ▽ Hide Experiment Log 2 Time: May 5, 2021. Participants: Alexis Talcite, Milo Norris, Holan Wessel. Place: Sector B versatile meeting room 5, Site-17. (The environment was arranged samely as the previous log.) Dr. Talcite: Last time we've got to the point that the game might be predictive, right? Researcher Norris: Now we are coming for it? Dr. Talcite: Exactly. Let's try role-playing something that hasn't happened. Researcher Norris: Be D&D or Call of Cthulhu? Dr. Talcite: Not that much, but maybe a little messy. (Talcite produced some coins and a glass mug from his pocket and put them on the table.) Dr. Talcite: I will throw the coin before the game session starts, then after it ends, and see if it could know or predict the results. But it requires a story, or a consequence. Let's say, if the head's up, I'll do nothing; if the tail's up, I'll go over there to fill my cup with water, then drink it. (Talcite flipped the coin. It's tail up. Talcite went over to the drinking fountain, filled the cup, and drank it.) Dr. Talcite: Could you be the PW, Milo? A very simple story is enough for it. Researcher Norris: Let me come to my own. Hmm… You, as Alexis, came up early in the morning and then to the meeting room 5. You are not quite in the mood, so you flip a coin to decide whether you should get a glass of water. Do a randomization check. (Talcite rolled the dice and got 3.) Dr. Talcite: It's 3 again. Hard to say if this would be a coincidence. How to explain this? Researcher Norris: I've gone vague for the story. I didn't mention which the default successful result is. Dr. Talcite: No problem, skip this and test the prediction part. You are the PW now, Holan. Agent Wessel: Me? Dr. Talcite: Yes. Look, the clock was slowed down and probably we are in. Agent Wessel: What should I say? Dr. Talcite: You narrate the story, and after that, I will perform it correspondingly in reality. I will push the cup off from the table edge, and Milo will try to catch it midair. This should be a hard random check or her Agility check. I would choose the latter. Agent Wessel: Well, you drank the water and put that cup on the table. Now you gonna do a weird thing: you flip a coin to decide whether to push the cup down to the ground. Then Milo as Milo will try to catch it, or it will shatter into pieces. Dr. Talcite: Nope, I won't use a coin to decide this. This shall be an "accident". Agent Wessel: (chuckle) So here comes our nitwit Alexis, you accidentally bumped your cup to the ground. Do a check to see if Milo's able to catch it. (Norris rolled the dice and got 6.) Agent Wessel: What does this mean? Researcher Norris: My Agility is 14, and the add-up is 20. Milo managed to succeed. Agent Wessel: Oh, great. We try it out now? Dr. Talcite: I guess we'd first break the time halt continuum. (Talcite went for the door and opened it. After the clock seemed to resume, he came back, leaving the door ajar.) Dr. Talcite: Wait. Actually we know it won't be an accident, but purposed. Will that work? Researcher Norris: Actually I don't believe I could catch a cup like that. Dr. Talcite: (with hands open) Look, if I do nothing, my cup doesn't fly out. Reality-bending won't be that kind. (Talcite nudged the cup off the edge. Norris didn't succeed in catching it, but unexpectedly, the glass wasn't smashed; instead, it bounced from the floor and was tossed toward Norris's feet. Norris picked it up and handed it back to Talcite.) Researcher Norris: I haven't thought about this. Dr. Talcite: Me neither. Researcher Norris: Could this still be coincidence? Dr. Talcite: No idea. Agent Wessel: We have got enough from it, I guess. Would it be interesting to try something new? This game can be played online, huh? Will it still work if we are scattered in different places? Dr. Talcite: Pretty fine! That would be called a CRPG or so. We can do it now. <END LOG> ▷ Show Experiment Log 3 ▽ Hide Experiment Log 3 Time: May 5, 2021. Participants: Alexis Talcite, Milo Norris, Holan Wessel. Place: An online chatroom, on the internal server of the Foundation intranet; everyone was in their respective offices or dorms, using laptops to communicate. (A file of SCP-8222 was uploaded so that all three people could access.) Dr. Talcite: Alright. Shall we configure the synchronicity? Researcher Norris: We are not even on topic yet. Agent Wessel: For certain, we are logged onto the internal network? Dr. Talcite: It could be very, very hard to override the SASL gateway. That means you can't access the external network on Foundation terminals if unauthorized. Agent Wessel: Impressive jargons. I'd try to get a bit more serious now: (Wessel sent a file "a.txt" to the server. It was later declassified and analyzed to be a brief for a task to be operated on May 7, 2021, two days afterward, code name "Shack".) Agent Wessel: Not above our clearance. Dr. Talcite: Jeez. Not one from your old pranks? Agent Wessel: It would be a joke on Monday5, but this hassle is really ahead for me tomorrow. Researcher Norris: You guys noticing anything in your surroundings? Agent Wessel: Anything? The sun's going down too dark. I have to turn on the light. Researcher Norris: That answers the question. I'm in a little cell without windows, so do the meeting room we've been to before, yes? Dr. Talcite: You are expecting we gotta confirm the scale of this temporal influence? But that can be hard. Under a circumstance of total time pause, we would all be frozen to death by absolute zero. Magic could be hard to clarify sometimes. Agent Wessel: My clock's not paused and people are bustling everywhere. I guess we've gone way too technical. Researcher Norris: We all need to buckle down on some points. Agent Wessel: Not a complaint. I pretty much got your points. Btw, would you do me a favor, Alexis? Dr. Talcite: Of course. Say? Agent Wessel: Take it seriously or not, role-play the file above? Dr. Talcite: I must admit I'm unfamiliar with tactic jargon. Agent Wessel: Np. I've got my plan. (The web connection suddenly went off. They tried re-establishing.) Agent Wessel: Who got us? Dr. Talcite: No one. We are on a secret server. Perhaps a time halt broke our simultaneity from the central hub. This partly answered your question, Milo. Agent Wessel: Uhhh. Do we have to sit together? Dr. Talcite: Not now, I circumvented the central hub. Now we are in direct connection. But computers are only capable of producing pseudorandom numbers, not knowing if the result could be affected if SCP-8222 dominates over. Only virtual dice are available online. Researcher Norris: Algorithms can also be fucked up by anomalies. (Norris typed the bot-search command to direct a link to SCP-7000.) Dr. Talcite: Gorgeous. Back to your plan, Holan? Would it be a single-player divination? Agent Wessel: Lmao. It's not that spiritual. It's Skippy. Researcher Norris: In fact I'm intrigued to see that. Just assume it's a cyberpunk Ouija board. I can be PW this time. Dr. Talcite: Milo is our best game master. Agent Wessel: Seconded. Researcher Norris: Lol, the fact is my self-insertion persona might not apply to this story. (A short pause for several minutes.) Researcher Norris: Here we go. You as Agent Wessel are a Foundation on-site MTF agent, ought to be out on a mission the next day to an aberrant place. Little did you know about the underlying, peculiar truth dwelling there, except for the rumors of witnesses suspecting obscure humanoid entities come and go, some floating upon the house even under broad daylight. You are in the first wave aiming for preliminary investigation. The day comes, and you are approaching the epicenter along with some fellow teammates. It is misty - did I get it right? Forecast said it would be misty tomorrow. Hell, we don't even have a single clue for the possible endings. Dr. Talcite: Yeah, mist tomorrow. Agent Wessel: Ah, no problem. It will be a headache and I haven't felt good ever since, but we all learned to keep our cool. At the ready, I'm considering the Absolute Exclusion Harness, i.e. To approach in absolute stealth, not even other MTFs will know my existence. It's crazy ik; the rest is up to Fortuna. Researcher Norris: Then an invisibility check. (The dice was run. It got 4.) Researcher Norris: Holan's Agility is 10, right? Agent Wessel: This doesn't have to be checked. The suit should be fail-proof. Researcher Norris: Then where lies your uncertainty? Agent Wessel: "Ghosts". That harness is to exclude the wearer from everyone but perhaps not from anomalous creatures. Researcher Norris: OK. Are they ontokinetic beings that can be measured by the EVE section? Agent Wessel: The true trouble is we know nothing, as somewhat eluded in the task brief. I remember there's a fallback for this situation in the handbook? I was coming for that. Researcher Norris: Dear me. These shall be included in any regular scene of actions as foe info. Yes, there is a fallback for that. A Hard check, could we? Sums up to 14. You have expertise as a Foundation agent so the skill bonus mounts from 10. You are edged out. 24 vs 25 is required, which means you are descried by those anomalies. Agent Wessel: I insist on moving on. Heck, I wouldn't believe that. Are there ways to detour? Researcher Norris: Literally, never would I know. That hut is 3-storey? I'm not the right kind of Containment Specialist for architecture. Presume there is complexity for you to find a cache. See whether you made it, since you can't get covered by anyone else. (Norris ran the dice.) Researcher Norris: Oh, another chance - you squeaked by. For one thing, at least it is an auspice. Agent Wessel: Shall I portray congrats to myself? Anyway, wish me good luck irl. Researcher Norris: Of course. Dr. Talcite: I'm going to be straightforward. So far we all attempted to make good use of 8222, unwilling to see it lying down a corner in the object database. Do you remember why we gathered right after the weekend? Agent Wessel: To play board games in an empty meeting room during workdays. Dr. Talcite: Priceless. Researcher Norris: Are GIFs allowed here? Agent Wessel: Yet, a priceless pastime with no time passes. Dr. Talcite: Brilliant pun. However I reckon it would stop at this point of enchanting dice if there's nothing left for us to know. Researcher Norris: I'm wondering to flesh out some new characters and meet again when y'all are at leisure. Agent Wessel: Next week I'll be on vacation. <END LOG> ▷ Show Experiment Log 4 ▽ Hide Experiment Log 4 Time: May 15, 2021. Participants: Alexis Talcite, Milo Norris, Holan Wessel. Place: Data center of Site-17, partially serving as Standard Storage Units for low-risk anomalous media. Researcher Norris: We don't really come here for more experiments, right? Dr. Talcite: Neither do I. Guess why I'm always taking this backpack with me, and not today? I would be very happy to show you around this place I work in every day, gosh, if it does not contain perpetually humming fans and RGB LEDs shimmering everywhere, portending a few program failures every single day. Definitely not close to a good place for hanging out, but an ideal cozy place to hide yourself from those boring people. Agent Wessel: Cozy? Researcher Norris: You got new ideas on a whim again? Dr. Talcite: Not really. Ooh, I almost forgot: the best coffee you could get in 17. Here, taste some. It's my treat. (Talcite walked offscreen. Overhears some wires or switches were plucked, then some bulky metallic racks were hauled apart as if there were invisible levers, to reveal an intricate machinery that could barely be distinguished as a coffee machine if he hadn't taken disposable cups from another rack to dispense coffee from it.) Researcher Norris: It matches your style. Dr. Talcite: How are things going these days? Agent Wessel: Not going beyond my anticipation. Dr. Talcite: What about the tactics you came up with when we last met? You actually harnessed that harness suit? Agent Wessel: Everyone did. That was proven to be working well, especially for veiling from those locals. Dr. Talcite: Kinda surprising to imagine how to cooperate while not knowing each other. Agent Wessel: Dude, we are not antimemetic back then. We are just invisible. It's considered to standardize this strategy to deal with humanoid anomalies. But even though there were mishaps, I could have died if that goddamn roof ran me down. You know, we could even collide without noticing each other coming in the way. After that - I was thinking - does it also fall into the augury of that shit. Dr. Talcite: 8222's shit? Agent Wessel: Yep. (Footage shows that Norris was pacing idly around the room.) Dr. Talcite: We ain't getting that superstitious. Agent Wessel: No, not that simple. Look, if the six values are altered on a self-inserting character and do not represent the real player anymore, will the prediction still work as well? What if my Agility is 2? (Wessel laughed while gesturing numbers by hands.) Dr. Talcite: Then perhaps weird things could still happen. We aren't knowing; why not start over again using completely new Players' Characters? I've always wanted to play as a thaumaturgist. (Norris stopped by her labcoat hanging on the rack on the wall. She fetched for her phone and a slip of folded paper.) Researcher Norris: Hey, you remind me about this. I tried a name generator, it came up with some really good random names, and I wrote some characters just for fun. Look at this, a fictional Coalition agent or something. Dr. Talcite: You are making OC6s? I can do avatar illustrations for you! Agent Wessel: Wait, you could draw? You've never told me about that. Dr. Talcite: I have never worked on commissions. Just some fanarts to keep to myself. Researcher Norris: Well, that's just a simple practice. I'm searching for how to write a campaign on my own, and then - Agent Wessel: Wow. Researcher Norris: - then we'll have abundant excuses to escape work. (All three people laughed.) Dr. Talcite: Do you have any ideas so far? Researcher Norris: Not really. I try to keep a bit professional, but making fun stories is harder than writing an incident report. Especially when you try to write stories in your own field of everyday work. (Norris finished her coffee.) Researcher Norris: That does taste good. Well, could we turn on the central lamp? It's a bit dark all over. Dr. Talcite: Sure, the switch's behind the bookshelf. (The light glared. It took a while to even out. Norris took a seat beside the table and put her lab coat on. Wessel and Talcite sat down as well. Talcite turned on his workstation computer, while Norris was checking on her phone.) Researcher Norris: I've read these: how to write a D&D campaign, where can I find transcripts of actual game sessions, tips for creating an engaging adventure. Few of them make sense, but one thing became clear: we shall take it easy. Anyway, it's just a game. (Norris unfolded the paper and began writing on it. Wessel was resting his head on palms. The quietness continued for three minutes before a whiz could be heard through the closed-circuit video. It amplified into a chirring noise, then into a human voice.) Unidentified voice: Hello? I could weave a panorama for you. Dr. Talcite: Who is that? Agent Wessel: I thought it was your computer again. (Turned to Norris) You hear that? Researcher Norris: Oh, what? Who are you speaking to? (The entity of voice was later documented as SCP-8222-A. The designation is used hereby.) SCP-8222-A: To whom it may concern, I have stories to tell. (Wessel was blinking hard.) Agent Wessel: Alexis, you summoned a game master out of thin air? (Talcite shooked head with disbelief.) Researcher Norris: Well, if you'd like to host a game, then welcome. Agent Wessel: I've not got my character sheet. Dr. Talcite: Interested? I've got copies here on my computer. SCP-8222-A: This could be a solitaire if you agree to be the audience. Dr. Talcite: May I ask about your identity? It's not interrogation. SCP-8222-A: It's out of the gameplay. I exist for the game. (Wessel looked at the ceiling. He found the camera but said nothing.) Researcher Norris: Have you seen my character? Dr. Talcite: No. SCP-8222-A: As a parawatcher, I'm obliged to know everything. _ + A brief version of Norris's character card.- A brief version of Norris's character card. Name: Ulysses Ramsden FIT INT AGI SEN CRV HUM EVE 6 11 11 10 10 100 12 Occupation: GOC Field Agent Languages: English, 5 Knowledge: 5D20 Point-buy Reality studies, 10 Basic thaumatology7, 10 Architecture, 12 Linguistics, 10 Computer science, 4 Skills: 5D20 Point-buy Firearm mastering, 14 Driving, 9 Close combat, 10 Persuasion, 8 Mechanics, 5 Anomalous Abilities: None SCP-8222-A: It was back in the early 2000s. After decades of deep-going studies into reality, the Foundation succeeded in inventing a device that could be used to stabilize reality, canceling out lower Hume fields by maintaining a higher one around it wherever it was carried to, making it an effective countermeasure to reality-benders that could be only dreamed of by the Foundation in their long duration of decades trying to fight against those dangerous guys. Agent Wessel: Reality anchors? SCP-8222-A: True. Agent Wessel: How do you know this? Were you some kind of affiliate with us? SCP-8222-A: Let's stay on topic. The technology was named after Dr. Scranton, who devoted his life to the evergoing research of it, and soon was implemented through all facilities and other organizations of the same interest. It was a victory of rationality over the unknown. However, years after that, there was evidence directing to a leak of the manufacturing techniques regarding reality anchors that seem to cause several instances of SRA-like equipment found in the hands of supernatural communes. How could that be used? The Foundation proposed for joint investigation to the Coalition, which later narrowed the clues down to a handful of persons of interest. And you, as a field agent, were chosen for this task. It's an early spring afternoon, and you are sitting in a local bar that was close to the town you once lived in as a child but later moved away from after college. You assumed that's why you were carrying this mission. You are putting your eyes on a middle-aged man alone sitting one table away from you, with messy gray hairs covering his watery eyes, seeming to be overwhelmed by alcohol. Few people are around in the bar by then. The bartender is behind the counter, reading newspapers. Researcher Norris: Was that guy a person of interest? SCP-8222-A: He's not on the list yet, but appeared in the town days earlier. His weird behavior was noticed by you, so you decided to stay around to get clues about what was going wrong. Researcher Norris: Is he kind of anomalous? SCP-8222-A: You could use the VERITAS, but it appeared normal before you dropped in the bar and observed in your car. Researcher Norris: Can I try to talk with him? SCP-8222-A: He seemed not in the mood to speak and was half drunk. Before you could strike out a conversation, he fell to the table and didn't wake up until half an hour later. You finished your cocktail and followed him out to the darkening twilight. You drove long after the taxi he called out and stopped at a hotel. After a while, you went inside and booked a guest room next to the man's. Researcher Norris: I'm in for a rest now? Am I getting any luggage with me? SCP-8222-A: You've brought your suitcase. Researcher Norris: I'm gonna check it. SCP-8222-A: You find clothes, other daily necessities, your props, and some unused notebooks. This is at the age back when smartphones weren't as popular as now, so you aren't bringing any electronics except for a slider phone, one with buttons like those back in the '00s. Researcher Norris: I check the messages. SCP-8222-A: All of those have been read. Some are from your friends, months earlier to arrange some hangouts by Christmas vacation, and some are encrypted ones sent by your colleagues to inform you to take notice of your safety. Researcher Norris: It shall be in the evening now? I would go to bed. SCP-8222-A: You went to sleep, but some noises woke you up late at night. You saw that it was nearly midnight, and some child's crying. It's supposed to be from the room next door that the person of your interest stays in. Unclear voices indicate he's speaking too. Researcher Norris: I go for hearing by the wall. Could I hear them? SCP-8222-A: As you are in your room, this can be a normal eavesdrop check. Researcher Norris: (Turns to Talcite) Do you have dices here? Dr. Talcite: Ah, of course. (Talcite clicked on his computer to display an interface on a terminal screen that could be accessed on Norris's side. Norris chuckled.) Researcher Norris: What would be that? Dr. Talcite: (Types on keyboard) 15, then 1D6 plus your Sensibility if no skill's applicable. (Norris got 4.) SCP-8222-A: You managed to hear the conversation beside. (SCP-8222-A changed into different voices to mimic the NPCs in the story.) Kid: You cheated me! Man: Jamie, Mom will be back in weeks. She'll bring you that. Kid: (Crying) No, I don't believe that. Man: Keep quiet, Jamie. It will be the same. Same as before. SCP-8222-A: They didn't speak more later that night. You went back to sleep. Early next morning, although a little tired, you got outside and found the man had left his room. Researcher Norris: I knock on the door. SCP-8222-A: No one answered. You checked by the VERITAS that the kid's also going out. Researcher Norris: Can I pick the lock? Do I have a lockpick or something? SCP-8222-A: Yes, you have, but that would be a hard check since the lock's reinforced inside. And only a single try, otherwise you can be seen by others surround you. (The dice got 2.) SCP-8222-A: You failed. Thought that you couldn't stay here for too long, you went down to the lobby. Some locals are chatting, while the receptionist is rummaging a pile of papers at the front desk. Researcher Norris: I go to ask about that weird guy. SCP-8222-A: Some glanced at you with vigilance. One of them responded in a tone of doubt, "You know him?" Researcher Norris: I say, "No, but the kid with him was kind of noisy, they woke me up last night. Is he someone you know?" SCP-8222-A: They replied, "Oh, not really. I've seen them around the bar these days." and walked away with a loss of interest. This drew more confusion to you. A moment later, you felt that your phone is buzzing. You fetched it from your pocket and saw a no-reply message telling you that the subject had been seen driving to the church nearby. Researcher Norris: Wait, I'm going back to the reception desk and try to steal the key to their room. SCP-8222-A: You do not have invisibility camouflages, so that would be nearly impossible. Researcher Norris: The rules are not negating this possibility, right? I sneak. SCP-8222-A: Fine, you can run a hard check. (The dice got 5.) SCP-8222-A: That sums up to 24 and you need 25. You failed to sneak into the counter under the direct sight of the gatekeeper, and they offered a baffled stare upon you. Researcher Norris: Okay, then I will persuade them that the lock on my room went wrong and needs to be checked. I'll need them away for a while. (Talcite gave a slight laughter upon raising his head up from the computer screen.) Dr. Talcite: Could that be a scheme? (The dice got 6.) SCP-8222-A: Alright, now the receptionist has gone away, and you can take the key off the rack. Dr. Talcite: Hard to imagine that could ever work. Researcher Norris: What is inside the room? SCP-8222-A: You can do an inspection check. (The dice got 5.) SCP-8222-A: You found a bag of staled food and an album, which is mostly photos of a woman that could be reckoned to be the man's wife. When you turned to the last page, a small pack wrapped in plastic and paper fell out. You see through the package without opening that it was some hair and skin scraps. Some hard bits of thing were felt by your fingers through the gloves; you squeezed them toward the center and saw them to be human teeth. Researcher Norris: Oh, shit. Black magic? SCP-8222-A: You can hardly be sure about what it does intend for, and feel an urge to leave. You take photos of your discoveries to save as documentation. Researcher Norris: Now I would leave the hotel at once and track the subject down the road. SCP-8222-A: Unfortunately, when you arrived at the point as given by the Command, the man couldn't be found anywhere, and neither did his car. But anyway, you proceeded into the church hall discreetly. It gives you a bizarre feeling that the place is not as simple as it may seem. Researcher Norris: May I use the VERITAS to check on the people inside? SCP-8222-A: None of them appeared to be anomalous. But for the architecture itself, you noticed something strange. It wasn't constructed in a common form of Christian churches; although you are far from a kind of religious person to be familiar with those nuances, you could find inconsistencies in its spatial structures, as if bisected by an invisible layer. You asked for confirmation from the Command, but the result showed nothing special. The Kant counter on your suit also read fine. Researcher Norris: Is it able to approach it from ways other than the gate? SCP-8222-A: There is no other entrance. You could see through a window that a preacher was speaking in front of a small number of people. The voice is completely inaudible from the outside, however. Researcher Norris: Am I getting a drone or something? SCP-8222-A: No, but you can choose whether to enter. Researcher Norris: I'm going to sneak inside and hide at some places. SCP-8222-A: No, there's no place for you to hide in the church. Researcher Norris: Okay, then I could just walk in as if there's nothing special. Agent Wessel: If that was me, I guess I would return without a second thought and report a spatial anomaly or cult. Researcher Norris: The best way to quickest end a game is to enter the most seemingly dangerous places. SCP-8222-A: Luckily, no one has ever raised doubt on your sudden presence. You were listening to the preacher talking about something like curing diseases by supernatural means as if exhibitions of abilities of gods, but giving out an atmosphere not the same with Christianity or any known common religions at all. When the session comes to an end, people are leaving without a single word. The entire hall is covered in a rather dim, gloomy light shedding through the color-stained windowpanes, despite the wide daylight outside. Researcher Norris: There's nothing like social media at then? I'll investigate around the people in the neighborhood about the vicar. SCP-8222-A: You haven't left the church yet, and few of people are willing to talk with you. A young woman is muttering something to others nearby, "Perhaps we can't be safe for another month, or a week. We don't have enough time or money to move." Researcher Norris: Can I loose her lip by persuasion? SCP-8222-A: Well, she left before she could notice you. However, your unusual actions seem to attract extra attention from someone else. You felt eyesight stinging on your back. But when you turned around, no one was there. After the flames from the candelabra faltered and diminished in seconds, you could see that the tables and the pulpit were coated with a heavy layer of dust in the fallen dark, not corresponding to how they were clean and tidy you've just seen. You ran for the front gate, but unexpectedly, the sturdy door swung closed in your face, before you could make your way out when it's ajar. You twist the metal, rusty handle with all your strength but it won't move. Researcher Norris: It's locked? Can I pick the lock? SCP-8222-A: Although you have your toolkit with you, there are no visible keyholes or other apertures on the rugged, antique wooden door allowing you to operate on. Researcher Norris: Where is my car? SCP-8222-A: You can't see from inside, but you can press your key and hear your car beeping faintly through the wall. It's still within distance of reach. Researcher Norris: I would go to find other ways out of this damn place. Are there any hidden passages inside the hall? SCP-8222-A: You can roll an inspection. (The dice got 5.) SCP-8222-A: You make your way through the area. Your hurried footsteps could be heard echoing in the darkness. Absurdly, the trace of human activity vanished at all, as if the hall had been abandoned several years ago. The background, ambient sound of birds chirping and bustling on the street drops to a deadly silence when you approach the pulpit in the front. You spotted a trapdoor beneath the pulpit, but you decided to take a chance at the gate first. When you walked past the middle point of the corridor towards the exit, you noticed that you were stuck at the very spot. Stepping forward, you stay at the same place. Agent Wessel: (Speaking in an amused tone) Screwed up! Researcher Norris: Holan, I think you can participate the next time or so. (Turning her head back) Can I call the Command for help? SCP-8222-A: There are no signals at all, as if in total isolation. After a while, scuffing sounds were coming from somewhere above your head. Your VERITAS spotted a figure descending from behind the buttresses. Researcher Norris: Oh shit. Anyway I would run. Do I have a reality anchor with me? SCP-8222-A: Yes, but the Kant counter shows normally 100, indicating no sign of a reality shift. Albeit frightened, you struggled to make a way out and succeeded in running toward the direction of the rostrum, opposite to the gate. You can see from VERITAS that the figure on the stairway is staggering down at a higher speed toward your place behind the pulpit. Researcher Norris: I open the trap door and get inside, then bolt the hatch. SCP-8222-A: You made a rather loud noise that could be easily noticed nearby. Roll a sneaking check to see if you are noticed by the man. (The dice got 6.) SCP-8222-A: Good, he didn't notice you. After searching for something around on the ground floor, he disappeared again. A rusty ladder extends from where you come in to deep down the burrow. Your torch beamed its light downward and cast light on a small chamber. Researcher Norris: What can I find? SCP-8222-A: Along with emptied barrels, crates, and some beanbags with fusty smells, you found a parchment book. Scribbled drafts covered each page, and there were a few odd-feeling pieces sandwiched between some pages. You picked one up. In the torchlight, you could see a soft piece of dried material, with skin-like textures on it. Inferring from its body hair remains, it could be human skin. On the last two pages, some hair is stuffed between. A name can be read as "Julian Atwood". Researcher Norris: I take pictures of it. Anything more noteworthy? SCP-8222-A: Not really. Researcher Norris: Can I go out now? SCP-8222-A: It depends on you. Researcher Norris: (A pause) I will check my phone. SCP-8222-A: You've made the right decision. The signals seemed to be reestablished. Researcher Norris: Great, I'd contact the Command and tell them about these. I open the trapdoor and ascend with discretion. SCP-8222-A: The hall remained silent, but seemed to have returned to its normal state. Lucky enough for you, you found that the gate's open again, so you fled as quickly as you could. You drove back to the hotel. The Command was informed about the abnormality and suggested you stay a bit farther from the place until it was well investigated. However, you've got to continue to keep an eye on the subject, the man with his kid, as it was your sole reckless decision to track him, you never told your superiors about this. Though the previous day offered little to you, you got up before sunrise intending to be aware of his whereabouts. Hearing doors scraped open, you quietly packed your stuff and went out. It was morning, and upon meeting the man at the gate without his child, you flinched at starting a conversation, but he turned out to be friendly. The man introduced himself to you as Cornell Atwood, and was curious about you since he mentioned he'd seen you that day. Researcher Norris: Well, I would say I was a Fed looking into cases of disappearing children. Does this need persuasion? SCP-8222-A: No, he believed in you at first sight. Perhaps the vibe that you gave off as a professional worked well. He asked you about what might be concerning you. Researcher Norris: I utter, "Still searching around for more clues. You are leaving your son alone here?" SCP-8222-A: A glimpse of hesitation ran past his eyes. Cornell Atwood: Going somewhere, uh, he might be better left just sleeping in the room. SCP-8222-A: He was beating around the bush, but shows no fear or dither. Instead, you could tell a whiff of outrage in his eyes, but it's not directed to you. Researcher Norris: I would say politely, "Found you busy these days. Well, I suppose I'd be busy off too. Do you get anyone to look after your son?" SCP-8222-A: Cornell lowered his eyelids. "No, thanks for your concern. I'm recently back from my wife's funeral." Researcher Norris: "Ohh… I'm terribly sorry to hear that." SCP-8222-A: Cornell looked into the blank air with dismay and left. He walked along down to the east, where you know that the bar where you met him is three blocks away. You can decide either to follow him to the bar or go westward to check on the church again. Researcher Norris: I go east to the bar, but wouldn't enter. I would stay inside my car. SCP-8222-A: Late in the afternoon when fatigue starts to set in, you witnessed Cornell shuffling out of the bar with his black coat. He walked past your car from a few meters away without recognizing it. You can choose to follow the bus he caught or return to the hotel. Researcher Norris: I need to be invested in. I'm following the bus. SCP-8222-A: Due to complexities during the rush hour, you need a driving proficiency check to see if you'll lose track of the bus. That should be easy. (The dice got 3.) SCP-8222-A: You move through the mass of hustling cars with a maximum expanse of patience. Halfway along the road, you saw Cornell get off the bus at a stop near the block on the south of the hotel. He was in a fairly soberer state of mind, trying to detour the main gate as if to get rid of something. Roll a regular random or luck check to see if he noticed your car. It will be a half chance. (The dice got 3.) SCP-8222-A: You saw Cornell on the main avenue after a while. With body stiffened, he was carrying a bag with heavy loads. With some alert, he threw the bag onto his shoulders and began pacing on the sidewalk. Researcher Norris: I pose doubt. Can I use VERITAS to see his bag? SCP-8222-A: There are no living creatures or detectable organisms inside it. Researcher Norris: What about that kid? SCP-8222-A: Using VERITAS, you could hardly see anyone clearly through the walls, moreover in such a distance. Cornell has hailed a taxi. You maintained at dozens of meters behind the cab, which kept rattling gravel and stones all along the way westward. It took longer than you think. Silhouettes of tall apartment buildings evened into little private houses, revealing the whole horizon, where the setting, bleak red sun was casting long-stretched shadows onto the tarmac. Cornell got down at a 2-story suburban villa that sat among a crowd of conifers. You inquired your Command about this location, only to be informed that no man-made architectures were ever found in this area. Researcher Norris: I'd pull my car a little farther then sneak behind. SCP-8222-A: That'd be easy to remain in stealth after the nightfall in the dense wood. (The dice got 2.) Researcher Norris: Wait, I'd check on VERITAS. How many people are there? SCP-8222-A: Only one, Cornell. But you are uncertain so you moved closer. You overheard talking, but there's still only Cornell out there. Researcher Norris: I'd keep my VERITAS on. How long will the battery last? SCP-8222-A: At least for six hours after the solar panel can't be used for recharging. Researcher Norris: Okay. Where am I? SCP-8222-A: The rear side. As you peek into the windows, all rooms are unlit. Researcher Norris: Who are talking? SCP-8222-A: One voice was Cornell, and another was an unidentified man. Your VERITAS could still only frame out Cornell's silhouette. Agent Wessel: VERITAS or Occulus is neither omnipotent. The former is an updated version of the latter but still sucks sometimes. I mean even in reality. Cornell Atwood: (As heard through the window) You are pretty confident in what we are holding dear, then offer an exchange that one can't afford at all. Unidentified man: Just a little bit more. Then you will get your hope back. SCP-8222-A: You may run an eavesdrop check. (The dice got 5.) SCP-8222-A: Somehow, you distinguished that voice corresponded to the preacher you saw in the church before. Suddenly, the light flashed on, right at the window you are looking at, glaring yellowish light onto your face. Preacher: Who's that? SCP-8222-A: He suspected you. You immediately dipped down to dodge the light. Take a regular dodge roll. (The dice got 2.) Researcher Norris: Fuck, anywhere for me to hide? SCP-8222-A: A searchlight was running through the yard. You are squatting down in the grass, but that doesn't suffice to cover you. Footsteps are heard coming close from another side of the wall, right behind the corner. It's hard to flee across the pine trees into a vast plane of open lawn. Researcher Norris: Can I slip into the house? I will climb to the second floor. SCP-8222-A: That could save a check, but since you are fleeing it may need another dodge check, or you'll be discovered. (The dice got 4.) Researcher Norris: Oh, great. SCP-8222-A: You set your feet onto the windowsill and, with your hands leaning force on the water pipe, you successfully stole into the top floor. Researcher Norris: I'll survey the room. SCP-8222-A: You don't dare to turn on the light, but you can see wooden bookshelves aligned against the stairway, a bed with smell of molds, and a carpet releasing small particles of dust that's visible under the moonlight when it absorbs your tapping of feet into a dumb thud. You went for the bookshelves. One is near-empty, another is stacked with old books. The books were written in a language you never knew before. The empty shelf had some bottles filled with a thick, sticky liquid, and specimens of various plants. On the top shelf, you found a parchment notebook that's identical to the one you saw in the cellar back in the church. But it's all blank, except for a piece of folded paper in the middle of the book. It's an informal letter, with no content but a sketched illustration depicting a small cross, a variant of the most common type. Its topmost part is a circle, instead of a line. The signature read Dylan Mocksworth. You put those things back and informed the Command about the new name. Through your VERITAS, the second figure could be seen downstairs. After a while, the conversation resumed and escalated into a quarrel. There's a thump of heavy things, then a resentful voice of the preacher: Preacher: That's easy. Having Julian and James, or lose them both. Cornell Atwood: Barton, you fucking bastard. Are you blackmailing me? Barton: No, you can leave at any time, and it's fine, but remember that I could take advantage of that at any time. Julian and James are in the same blood, that does also pass down to your future generations. Cornell Atwood: Fine then. Kidnapper. Barton: No one would believe that. You can wager. SCP-8222-A: Suddenly, a gunshot was fired. As you were a bit shocked, your vision through the VERITAS showed another incredible fact: one of the figures turned green. Another remains clear, as it scurried toward the gate's direction. One of them is a hidden reality bender. The running one, however, seemed to fail to escape; there was screaming of obscenities. You recognize it was Cornell. Researcher Norris: Wait, what? Report it to Command at once. SCP-8222-A: You're not going to leave? Researcher Norris: Why leaving? I'll have my anchors on and rush downstairs. SCP-8222-A: Are you sure? You have nothing else than a revolver and an airgun, less than ten meters away. Researcher Norris: That would be enough. I'll shoot him at the first sight. SCP-8222-A: You emerged from the dark staircase that couldn't be seen clearly from the brightness. This earned an advantage for you. Cornell is curling up in a corner, and his gun is snatched by Barton. The living room is occupied by a morbid odor of gasoline and blood. You can act first. (The dice got 2.) Researcher Norris: Holy crap. SCP-8222-A: You failed to aim lethally at Barton for the first turn but shot in his leg, took 30 EVE from him. Now roll for his attack. He stumbled but didn't collapse. He intends for your gun first to disarm you. Your anchor offsets it by 20. (The dice got 4.) SCP-8222-A: Being moderately injured, he also failed his attempt. Researcher Norris: I'll take this interval to make a dart toward him, applying my tranquilizer airgun. That will be an easy check within 5 meters, right? I'll take him down. (The dice got 6.) SCP-8222-A: The anesthesia dart pointed at Barton's leg with extreme accuracy. He fell within six seconds. You contacted Command for support, then investigated Barton and found a cross-shaped pendant, similar to that drawing you saw in the letter upstairs. You retrieved it for further analysis. Cornell was looking at you in astonishment. Luckily, he wasn't wounded at all. Also baffled, you equivocated by stating that you came as a coincidence and would be taking him back. You offered him a lift to the hotel and decided to interrogate him on your own. The result proved your anticipation. Albeit afraid of being sued for assault, Cornell told you something. Cornell Atwood: (In a hazy voice) I just… couldn't live without her. Researcher Norris: "Julian?" Cornell Atwood: She has been every day in my dreams. The best love of mine ever. Also the greatest mom. It's all happening too fast to be like a nightmare. I wasn't just to bring her back to life. I was… taking revenge, on that scumbag I've lost her to under that fuckin' wheel. It destroyed everything. I didn't even see the whole of Julian in the morgue, only her head covered in clotted blood. Her eyes, gazing in sadness. I thought of myself as disgusting as well now, becoming a boozer just like the one who killed her. Researcher Norris: "I'm heartfelt for your loss. But as for my work - I have to ask you how do you get to know Barton?" SCP-8222-A: Cornell seemed to know little about Barton's background. You decided to leave this to your colleagues. Researcher Norris: Well, is our story near its ending? SCP-8222-A: Not yet. The assessment team that came later to get Barton found him back awake with gunshot injuries healed. They plotted to spare his life under intense supervision until further hints surface. The Anka-shaped pendant was examined to be a prototype version of a singularity-based reality stabilizer, that could be switched on and off but functions poorly. Dylan Mocksworth, the person who appeared in the signature, showed up later that night in Barton's house, seemingly unaware of the team ambushing in the surroundings. You were up to the site after handing Cornell over to the Coalition. The night was grim with no moon shining down, and chilly winds were rubbing against your cheek. You've got new ammos, but nothing more, as you were eavesdropping on the rooftop with mics on. Dylan Mocksworth: If there were any ways to know about you earlier, I'd slap in my own face. All fucked off, Rudolf. You idiot. They've got it. What kind of whim drives you to show off every day around? Rudolf Barton: I've not paid you enough money? The deal's done. Stay away from my life. Dylan Mocksworth: Money is not a panacea. You are standing in my way once after you performed those shit on the innocent. Would that be so hard to live as a normal person? Rudolf Barton: (In a smirky tone) I may know that better than you. I'm helping people out of their griefs and diseases. Making money outta that could be venerable. You will pay for your doctor, and with greater power comes greater payments. Dylan Mocksworth: Are you speaking that way? Are you sure that you're helping people? Fuck you. I could do that for no profit at all. Stop it for good or you will risk seeing your name and all your misdeeds on TV tomorrow. Rudolf Barton: You dare push that into my mind again? SCP-8222-A: Dylan could be seen running out to the yard, followed by Barton. Your Kant counter sensed a harsh outburst of Hume surge, and then, there comes a blast elsewhere. Reaching out your head, you can see Barton lying prostrate at the front door, head blown to pieces, his flesh slowly drenching the grass red with trickling blood. Dylan is standing indifferently beside Barton's shattered body, not being slightly led astray by his death. His sight rips through the pines. Then he shouted to the air in a flavor of derision. Dylan Mocksworth: Great, you've got him, great as it always be. Cutting-edge with no exceptions. I would be the same to you, right? Forced to conceal identity for life, then await to be killed someday. I wouldn't be less hating you than that son-of-a-bitch. SCP-8222-A: And that's when your counter, in the internal line, shrilled in desperation. Even with your anchor, the vertical drop of Humes fell drastically to 60. All of your surroundings seem to be burning to orange with an angry flame coming from nowhere, which you nearly mistook as a sunrise. You may roll to see if Dylan will be able to see you. (The dice got 4 for a sneaking check.) SCP-8222-A: Everyone is not prepared for this twist. All team members are framed into apparent black shadows among the trees against the blazing light. Inside the mic, others urge you to shoot him, as reality benders cannot affect what they cannot perceive8. This would be a definite success if you were willing to place your finger on the trigger. (A long silence.) SCP-8222-A: Will you fire? This would be the sole opportunity. Researcher Norris: I - (pauses) Okay, I would. SCP-8222-A: You keep your breath even and try to ignore your throbbing heart. You might be killing other entities before, but this time, a stubborn sense of uneasiness becomes convincing as time ticks away. Before it could overwhelm you, you fired your bullet into Dylan's head. A cluster of birds dissipated into the speechless night with the huge blare. You've got to leave before the dawn set in, to be out of sight of all those clueless civilians. Along with others, you cleaned up the havoc, then headed out into the darkness while the sky was subtly tinted blue on the east. Autopsy later indicates no traces of body implants as analyzed from Dylan's remains. Of course, however, it could be self-destructed by some means. You went to investigate Dylan's dwelling for follow-up. It's a cluttered garage, with nothing but one table in tidiness. You examined the drawer and found it carefully packed with papers tied up by rubber bands. You look through them with gloves on. Most of which are group photos of vibrant, joyful kids, and postcards that were scribbled with little cute critters and flowers. You found a Polaroid depicting Dylan with a little girl, but the girl's face was no longer discernible, as been erased by scorch. After the event, you are granted a vacation. Although the culprit wasn't tracked for clear, the Foundation later updated their reality stabilizers, as well as the VERITAS oculus from the Coalition, and extended the field of studies into a wider variety of relevant subjects. You hope that breaches of anomalous technologies will no longer be a problem. Traces of anomalies have since never been heard of in your hometown in the following decades, with people living their daily lives as peacefully as they might have always been. Researcher Norris: Well, we had reached the epilogue? That's a compelling story after all. SCP-8222-A: I'd like to offer my hearty appreciation for you to participate. See you next time. (SCP-8222-A's voice diminished to a hum, then disappeared into the silence.) <END LOG> After the experiment session was documented in full length, Dr. Talcite went to search the keywords in the Foundation database regarding joint missions. A matching record was found that dates back to 2001. Mission Abstract: Terminating humanoid threat entities that have possessed unauthorized knowledge and production of reality-stabilizing technologies. Casualties: 4 in total (2 civilians, 2 subjects of interest). Name Age Identity Notes Rudolf Barton 41 Type Green, Threat Level 5 Terminated by Assessment Team "Chord" on March 2, 2001. Dylan Mocksworth 29 Type Green, Threat Level 3 Terminated by Agent "Ulysses" on March 2, 2001. Cornell Atwood 34 Civilian Shot by Rudolf Barton on March 1, 2001. James Atwood 6 Civilian Killed by reality distortion on March 1, 2001. Despite factual discrepancies, the anomalous informational ability of SCP-8222-A, which is shown capable of narrating previous events while also leaving space for deviated progressions, was therefore discovered and documented. Hence, the restriction of security clearance levels regarding SCP-8222 was risen to Level 3 and above. Incident Report: On February 19, 2022, a containment breach occurred in Site-17. It was later confirmed to be a failure of the automated security system, which allowed chances for intruders of Chaos Insurgency and several other PoIs to successfully break into the facility. In February 2021, one year prior to the accident, a program aiming at developing new AICs to facilitate automated security systems was initiated firstly in Area-03. Back then, a debate broke out over whether to implement humanlike comprehensive cognitive abilities (esp. emotional interpretation) to AICs or not. The research group led by Dr. Merry Sieling Dashmere, a Containment Specialist who emphasized logical capabilities over other factors won the argument later, canceling out those by Dr. Harrison Elsmor, who insisted on enhancing the similarity of AICs to humans. It's deemed to have eventually led to the failure of the on-site AIC system later at Site-17, caused by a paradoxical logic attack from hostile PoIs who tried to hack the system. The whole event has been predicted by narratives of SCP-8222-A in an undocumented experiment on May 25, 2021, despite subtle inconsistencies. Participants include Dr. Dashmere, who used a character card based on Dr. Elsmor in the game upon obtaining his consent. From then on, a full detailed log or transcription is mandatory for each test afterward upon SCP-8222. Footnotes 1. Tabletop Role-Playing Game, a classic genre of roleplaying game that could be carried out fully on paper, pens and dice, with no need of electronic devices. 2. Further investigation showed a minimum ~80% ratio of overall integrity was required. 3. See below in the section of "Roles" in the excerpt. Known as PW (Parawatcher/Panorama Weaver) in the case of SCP-8222 4. In the period from 42 secs to 3 mins observed. 5. May 3, 2021, the day before the first test log. 6. Original character. 7. Thaumatology, as a theory of anomalous science, differs from thaumaturgy, which is a practical anomalous skill. 8. This line is also seen in a GOC Field Manual. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8222" by Dr Talcite, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8222. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8225 | esoteric-class | There is a house in the land where the sun meets the moon; a house where the gods of our ancestors live. ITEM #: SCP-XXXX LEVEL- CONTAINMENT CLASS: THAUMIEL DISRUPTION CLASS: DARK ITEM: SCP-XXXX LEVEL- CONTAINMENT CLASS: THAUMIEL DISRUPTION CLASS: DARK NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION As per Section 3.8 of the RAISA Documentation Standards (2015 revision), this front-facing documentation substitutes proper names in place of numeric designations for the purposes of clarity. The full list of reference designations for all components and subcomponents of SCP-8225 may be found in the appropriate back-end database entry. As per Section 12.3 of the RAISA Documentation Standards (2015 revision), this documentation contains direct statements from the research team in order to better clarify topics judged to be of special importance. The Δ-2 variant of Protocol 4000-ESHU is in effect for the contents of this documentation. See section 1.6 for further details. Item #: SCP-8225 2 Containment Class: Autocontained Response Level: 1 (Minimal) Threat Level: GREEN Assigned Site Site-46 Site Director Dr. Miura Research Head Dr. Kroeber Amèshe and her sister Chii'a, both of Willow House, gossip while weaving. Drawn from recall by Dr. Douglas. Standard Containment Procedures NOTICE Further exploratory missions to SCP-8225 have been placed on indefinite hold by the Board of Directors, Security Committee, and Field Studies Division. The containment procedures and interaction policies listed below are under review. Inquest into the deaths of Dr. Allison Kerr and Dr. Malakai Tamahori is ongoing. Due to the difficulty presented in both access and egress, SCP-8225 has been determined to be self-containing and is not considered to pose a material or informational threat to the Foundation's mission. No actions will be taken to prevent access to SCP-8225 by other parties; these would be considered a violation of sacred hospitality, and and as such pose an unacceptable risk of retaliation for negligible benefit. Personnel Requirements Score of 50/100 or above on the Lang-Desantos Lucidity Test. Score of 20/100 or lower on the Briar Antisocial Traits Test. Completion the Foundation's field anthropology training course. A4 or A5 Eidetic Recall conditioning applied within the previous 18 months. Up-to-date Schedule A vaccinations. No allergy to peanuts or tree nuts..Allergen avoidance is unfeasible due to omnipresent usage in local cooking. Up-to-date Long-Term Field Research Clearance. Conversational fluency (Grade 3) in Icheya. Personnel Recommendations Fluency in any of the following secondary languages: Bragh Do, Ng!tu, T'áátsíí. Skill in at least one instrument, including voice (highly recommended). Prior field experience: inhabitants of Nexus-class anomalous locations. Prior field experience: non-normative human cultures. Prior field experience: sub velamine religious practices. Prior field experience: thaumaturgic practitioners. Personnel Guidelines The Field Operations Code of Conduct is to be upheld at all times. The cover story outlined in the SCP-8225 Operations Guide.Researchers assigned to SCP-8225 will act as representatives of the scholastic followers of the Seven Celestial Precepts. is to be maintained at all times. All inhabitants of SCP-8225 should be greeted with the appropriate kinship terms. Personnel may share personal information (regarding family, background, etc) at their discretion so long as it does not contradict the aforementioned cover story. Personnel should accept any offers of food and hospitality. Any amount of food or drink may be consumed to fulfill the obligation. Interactions deemed important by the research team should be shared with other personnel for redundant memory recording. As guests of the House, researchers will be expected to participate in collective work groups during their stay; personnel are encouraged to use this as an opportunity for observation. Personnel are encouraged to participate in local customs when invited. It is of prime importance for all researchers to avoid any actions that would violate the hospitality of the Amatànnaq or our gracious benefactors, such as: Interruption or interference with sacred rites. Intrusion into sacred spaces without permission. Withholding food or shelter from others. Withholding or otherwise providing inadequate offerings to the firstmost of the age. Causing damage to places sacred to those ancient of days. Refusing participation in collective work groups. Direct interactions with eldest-upon-earth should be accompanied by a tsalecho.Lit. "knowing-person"; an Amatànnaq magic-practitioner. or another knowledgeable inhabitant of SCP-8225 if at all possible. If a tsalecho is not available, it is recommended to politely excuse oneself at the first opportunity. Researchers must not provide given names to those dressed in green; temporary use-names may be provided so long as they are extremely common in their native languages and do not match the individual's given name. Under no circumstances are the inhabitants of SCP-8225 to learn of the Foundation, its operations, or its mission. Violations of the above guidelines are likely to damage the relationship between researchers and the Amatànnaq, impeding the Foundation's data-gathering operations. Update 03/FEB/2019: Ama Kubeya has been classified as a potential vector for a HK-Δ-Class Hostile Deity Scenario and has been assigned emergency code Epsilon-Alpha-Mu-Alpha. 1. Description The SCP-8225 designation encompasses the following components: Alpha: Doèshyatoan; An anomalous region of uncertain classification .Alpha features traits found in both Type 3-C (Baseline Subdomain) and Type 2-B (Stable Oneiric Territory) of the Stevens Categorization Schema, detailed below. (Section 1.1) Beta: A traversible Rosen-Fortune Bridge linking Alpha with Baseline..Additional routes are hypothesized, but have not been proven. (Section 1.3) Beta-2: Peregrinus somnovium; a psychotropic fungus required to access Beta. (Section 1.3.1) Gamma: Anxeqaamat; Primary population center of Alpha. (Section 1.2) Delta: Eshannu; The hominid inhabitants of Alpha and Gamma. (Section 1.4) Epsilon: The star-eyed peoples inhabiting Alpha. (Section 1.6) Zeta: Sapient non-humans present within Alpha and Gamma. (Section 1.5) Eta: Non-normative flora and fauna native to Alpha. (Section 1.1.2) Theta: Catch-all designation for all subcomponents relating to the social, cultural, religious, and magical practices of Delta and Zeta. (Section 1.7) Per Section 3.8 of the RAISA Documentation Standards (2015 revision), the remainder of this document will use common nomenclature instead of numeric designations. Language Notes and Pronunciation Guide Close collapsible Icheya (lit. “of many”) is the predominant language spoken by the Amatànnaq and pilgrims to the House. Its origins are not known, though it is considered to be younger than most of the liturgical languages used due to loanwords inherited from Romanization of Icheya words and names adheres to the International Phonetic Alphabet, save exceptions listed in the charts below Consonants LAB DEN ALV POA PAL VEL UVU GLO NSL m n ŋ ng STP p / b t / d k / g q ʔ ' AFF t͡s ts t͡ʃ ch FRC s / z ʃ sh x APX w j TRL r ~ ɹ LAT l Vowels Front Central Back Upper i u High Mid e o Mid ə à Low Mid ɛ è ɔ ò Low a /q/ is beginning to merge with /k/, especially among younger speakers, and is likely to merge fully within the next generation. /x/ is commonly pronounced as /h/. /n/ is realized as /ŋ/ when preceding /k/, /g/, or /x/. /ʔ/ appears only between vowels, and is written out to indicate that adjacent vowels do not form a diphthong. Duplicated vowels indicate a length distinction. Word-final ə is in the process of being dropped entirely. 1.1 Regional Overview (8225-α) The land where the sun meets the moon, locally named Doèshyatoan, is an anomalous geographic region of indeterminate size and categorization. It is located east of east and west of west, and is accessible from Baseline by way of the Pilgrim's Road. Doèshyatoan is predominantly within a Köppen classification CsB climate zone.Warm-summer Mediterranean climate: summers are warm and dry, winters are mild and wet, and the yearly temperature range is from 0 to 22 °C. Local flora and fauna align with similar climate regimes in Baseline, representing both Eurasia and North America. Doèshyatoan possesses a variable geography, wherein the layout and presence of features is not contiguous between observations, with the effect increasing in strength the further a location is from Anxeqaamat and its immediate surroundings. This variety of "fuzzy geography" is a trait shared among all Type-2 domains, though Doèshyatoan lacks other traits of that classification such as non-contiguous transit, object impermanence, and auto-translation. While direct readings cannot be taken, the oneiric traits of Doèshyatoan indicate an average Hume rating of 85-110ξ which would place the majority of the region in the lower range of Type 2 domains and Anxeqaamat proper in the upper range of Type 3..A Δ-class for transitional domains has been proposed, but has not been adopted due to lack of similar examples. Please see "Is Our Model Wrong? How SCP-8225 Upsets Our Conceptualization of the Cosmos" (Kirke, Laura 2018) for a full overview. 1.1.1 Locations of Interest Certain features of Doèshyatoan will always occur and remain in consistent relational position with each other, regardless of any other variables. Kube Otsiya - A mountain range demarcating the border of Doèshyatoan. The Amatànnaq consider them to be the sleeping place of the moon and the home of giants. Anxeqaamat - The largest permanent settlement within Doèshyatoan, located in the approximate center of the region. A few satellite villages exist in the surrounding cultivated region. Te'otakana - The primary river of the regional watershed, running from the mountains in the northeast to Lake Olupyaru in the southwest. Anxeqaamat is built on the western bank. Gamèsh Ta - Proliferation of stone dolmens located in the hills southeast of Anxeqaamat. The Amatànnaq claim that they were built by giants prior to human arrival; no counter-evidence to this claim has been found. Ulèpyaka - Open plains to the east of Anxeqaamat. Low human population due to predatory megafauna. Ko'abyaru - Forested areas not part of Anxeqaamat's satellite villages or food-gathering areas. Home to some migratory human communities. Atsàbyaru - The deepest areas of the forest and domain of those who cannot be named. No permanent human inhabitants: hunting in these areas is undertaken only with great need and extreme caution. 1.1.2 Non-Normative Flora and Fauna (8225-η) Non-normative life found in Doèshyatoan will typically be either non-Baseline members of normative orders and genera, or members of extinct genera. In animals, the latter category trends towards late Pleistocene megafauna, including members of megatheriidae, machairodontinae, glyptodontinae, toxodontidae, macraucheniidae, camelops, and elasmotherium. Several temporally-abnormal genera have been observed, including phorusrhacidae and mesohippus; it is currently hypothesized that these genera hail from iterations of Baseline where member species survived until human contact. As most of the above genera reside in regions with low to no human population, a full taxonomic survey has yet to be undertaken, and many species have been identified only through descriptions provided by the Amatànnaq or Hwatezheteo. A preliminary botanical survey was held during Expedition 36/4, but was limited to those cultivated around Anxeqaamat. A secondary survey was planned for Expedition 41/8, but has since been put on indefinite hold. Researcher's Note: Lòx Close collapsible Researcher's Note: Lòx Dr. Allison Kerr Lòx is an unassuming plant: a small, clover-like herb with palm-shaped leaves that blooms with tiny white flowers in the spring. You see it so often that you'll quickly begin to overlook its presence. Like most things that are of critical importance to a culture it fades into the background, visible only if you go looking for it. When dried and ground, Lòx leaves serve as both an effective contraceptive and a means of alleviating the physical side-effects of menstruation. If taken while pregnant, it serves as an abortificient. It is omnipresent both in the House and outside; women grow it in windowsill boxes like we would grow parsley and oregano. They add it to water or wine, mix it with honey, and drink it every morning at breakfast. The ehsannu have had birth control for so long that its origins exist only in myth. It is a recurring motif in crank archaeology to posit an Edenic matriarchal society overthrown and obscured by the war-machine of encroaching patriarchy. It's bad archaeology longing for an idealized past that never was. But here in the House, we can see perhaps the closest that humans have ever gotten to that dream - not because it is some natural template state that we could revert to and solve all our problems, but as the result of a specific set of material circumstances maintained over millenia. Lòx usage supports eshannu matrilinearity by essentially removing paternity as a major factor. The strictures of the Uganugurrit, combined with the stability of the environment and local food abundance, disincentivize a full shift to sedentary agriculture even with the presence of domesticated livestock. Careful cultivation of food gathering regions disincentivizes adopting sedentary agriculture in the future, as the transition would be more work for less reliable food. Without anything to fuel further centralization of power, there is no real way for a dominant hierarchy to gain control over lòx supplies. The components strengthen each other as well as the whole, and because of that, the chain of generational abuse born of patriarchal domination of the family never had the chance to begin. It was never able to set down roots. 1.2 The House (8225-γ) Anxeqaamat.Lit. "the house of the gods of us all" is a temple complex and accompanying settlement built on and around a large hill in the approximate center of Doèshyatoan. The buildings are predominantly made of adobe brick, timber and stone, and represent at least six discrete architectural strata spanning an estimated minimum of 23,000 years of continuous settlement. .As indicated by a combination of radiocarbon dating, thermoluminescence dating, and the relative position of celestial bodies when comparing modern observations to local oral histories. This last method has indicated that human habitation of Doèshyatoan precedes the earliest known architectural stratum by, at minimum, a further 24,000 +/- 1500 years. It is estimated that Anxeqaamat had a population of between 12,000 and 15,000 individuals at its height. The exact cause of the decrease to current numbers is not known: Amatànnaq oral histories reference a period of social upheaval and widespread famine in the outside world preceding the current historical epoch, accompanied by a decrease in both the number of pilgrims and new influxes of permanent inhabitants. This period roughly aligns with the divergence between the fifth and sixth architectural strata (where the House was completely uninhabited for several centuries), and as such is likely to be connected to the Tenzing-Wolfe Restructuring Event. The forest surrounding Anxeqaamat has been extensively adapted to local permaculture practices. Primary crops are beans, maize, squash, tomatoes, potatoes, onions, garlic, chili peppers, grapes, olives, citrus fruits and rice; barley and wheat are present but do not constitute a major part of the diet. Meat sources include of deer, wild boar, wild cattle, wild goat, rabbit, beaver, bison, wildfowl, fish and aforementioned late Pleistocene megafauna. Anxeqaamat proper is split into seven districts - Sun, River, Stone, Moon, Dusk, Star and the Empty Quarter - distributed around the base and lower slopes of its parent hill, each with an associated gate. .Anxeqaamat does not have a city wall; its gates are instead similar to a torii or hongsalmun. Of these, Sun and River are the most populated, Dusk and Star the least, and the Empty Quarter is left uninhabited. The Great House sits at the summit of the hill, accessible by three converging roads from Sun, Moon, and Star Gates. Most buildings in the House are empty, even in the more populated districts. Inhabited buildings will be repaired and expanded upon over generations until they are deemed unfit, at which point the inhabitants will pull down whatever can be salvaged and move to another dwelling. New constructions are uncommon, and typically only built to replace a building that has been completely exhausted of any further use The House contains several points of interest considered outside the presumptive time-frame for the location, including: A water-powered enchiridion node in early archaic Mekhanite style..A room-sized computational device used primarily for information storage. Research queries are slow and provided only limited data for a single request. Overseen by Turtle House. Printing press with movable type. Overseen by Birch House. Original language unknown, letters have been freely adapted to House languages. Limited electricity generation via biological solar collectors..Presumed to be trade goods received from Sapient Terragen Species Γ. Overseen by Firefly House. Partial hull of a surface-to-orbit shuttle; currently used as part of Three Star House's clan hall. Post office providing mail and parcel delivery via SCP-████.“The Postman Thoth and the Chapar Khaneh” and an infrequently-used Lampeter Cargo Service drop-off/pick-up point. Researcher's Note: The House of Other Gods Close collapsible Researcher's Note: The House of Other Gods Dr. Malakai Tamahori The Tanoqaamat, located just outside the Star Gate, contains worship spaces for religious traditions foreign to Doèshyatoan. While it's not often visited by the Amatànnaq, and far fewer pilgrims visit now than at its creation, the House of Other Gods still provides us with a trove of useful data about the Amatànnaq relationships with other traditions as well as the historical demographics of pilgrims to the House. Its worship spaces represent: Mekhanism: A proto-orthodoxy augmentation altar; serial numbers date it to the mid Reconstruction Era, approximately 140 years after the fall of Amoni-Ram. Modified at a later date to provide shrine stamps.Many Mekhanist shrines will provide a unique stamp to a pilgrim's augmentation (or, lacking this, a dedicated stamp-book) notarizing their visit. As the shrine does not have a dedicated heirotekton to maintain it, it is no longer functional. Abyssopelagism: While practice of Senyana's formal cult remains limited to the House of Other Gods, the goddess herself has been adopted with some popularity by the Amatànnaq for reasons yet unknown. Gigantares: Well-maintained but rarely used: we have yet to encounter any practitioners of this faith, despite the Giants being both common knowledge and figures of reverence among the eshannu. Starlit Path: A seven-pointed variant of the typical altar design is present, similar to those found at the Svalbard and Baffin Island sites, but has been neglected for some time. The shrine frescoes have degraded significantly and do not appear to have ever been restored or replaced. The altar surface has been cracked by a large blunt instrument. Prince Cults: All eight princes are represented, though the primary focus is the triad of MUZD, HAJHETI, and VUUOU.The Princes of fire, water, and an undefined domain, respectively., rather than the typically more popular JALAKÅRA. Nälkän Folk Religion: The iconography used links the shrine to rural folk practices of the late Adi-Um period, prior to the Dhamaughr invasion. As with most traditions from this era, Lovataar and Saarn are portrayed as aspects of the same individual, and Ion's disciples include nine Klavigars instead of the four of modern Nälkän sects. Ion is also portrayed with an axe, rather than a spear, as his symbolic weapon. Ortothan Church: Has been renovated relatively recently. The bloodletting altar is based on those used in the earthly Ortothan Kingdoms, but the accompanying iconography is that of modern denominations. Additional Unidentified Traditions: An additional 14 discrete worship spaces are present for faith traditions that have no presence in Baseline. 1.3 The Pilgrim's Road (8225-β) A Type-06 traversible Rosen-Fortune Bridge. Currently the only means of reaching the House known and accessible to the Foundation. Entry Point: Any westbound road. Pilgrims must be alone, unobserved and prepared according to the entry ritual; transition onto the Road will occur at the first line-of-sight break. Entry Ritual: Travelers are to abstain from meat, alcohol, tobacco, and sexual activity for three days prior to departure. On the final night.Defined here as lasting from moonrise of Day 3 to sunrise of Day 4., prospective pilgrims will fast from all food and drink save water and Peregrinus somnovium, which will be administered in a safe environment by an appropriate overseer. This ritual is required only when entering the Road from the Baseline side. Transit Time: 25 - 45 days. Transit Distance: Variable: calculations based on travel pace and transit time give a range averaging between 400 and 900 kilometers. Special Factors: Geographic Variability: Terrain features are non-continuous between transits. Electronic Inoperability: Devices are rendered inoperable within an hour of entry. Artificial Structures: Stone shelters are located every 10-15 kilometers. Human Presence: Researchers have repeatedly encountered other travelers during transit, all of whom originated in non-local iterations of Baseline..Please see Supplementary Document 8225-EX-A for a list of confirmed cultural divergence points and social trends. Further Notes: As a Type-06 "Roman Road" F-R Bridge, the Pilgrim's Road has an unknown number of entry points converging at a single destination. It is not known if it is possible to follow the Road in reverse as a form of inter-iteration travel: statements collected from pilgrims who had previously visited the House indicate that the Road guides pilgrims to their point of origin automatically. Despite the geographic and spatial variability of the Road, stages of travel are consistent. Pilgrims will always begin in the Kube Otsiya, then pass into the lower foothills and through Ko'abyaru, finally crossing Te'otakana into the House through the Sun Gate. Researcher's Note: The Road Close collapsible Researcher's Note: The Road Dr. Malakai Tamahori It's hard to describe how alone you can feel, when you're out on the Road. Not lonely, just alone. It's you and the mountains and nothing else. The rest of the world is so far away, and after a few days it starts to fade into the back of your mind until it's like a dream. The Road gives you the space and the time you need to set yourself right, before you reach the House. Your legs will hate you for a while, but that's nothing compared to your first night out. Most people don't realize just how many stars you can see when there's no light pollution. Maybe they can pick out a few constellations but the actual thing, actually standing there are looking out at the band of the Milky Way above your head… Dr. Dominic Douglas We met a few pilgrims on the way there, people from other worlds and other times. Nearly everyone knew a little Icheya, so the language barrier wasn't that big of an issue. Sometimes you'd match pace with them for a few miles or a few days before splitting up and settling back into solitude. Good people. No matter who you met, they'd greet you with a smile and wish you a "Tsune tamin! - a good Road. And you'd talk a while, as best as you could, about the journey or about what brought you there. Most of them said something that boiled down to "because I must go". A sense of spiritual obligation. Some of them were going because they had survived a near-death experience. Some of them were going out of family or religious tradition. One group we met had a 112-year old man in it. He couldn't walk, so his great-great grandsons would take turns carrying him in a sort of wicker backback. When I asked him what brought him to the Road he said "so that I will die in the house of my mother and father." We didn't meet up with them again. I'll choose to believe that they made it. 1.3.1 Peregrinus somnovium (8225-β-2) Incertae sedis fungus of order Boletales. Fruiting body 3-7cm in height. Cap is convex and red-orange in coloration. Stalk and underside of cap are cream-colored. Potent soporific and psychoactive effects when eaten; consumption will trigger altered state of consciousness within thirty seconds and sleep within five minutes. Testing researchers report a period of sudden calm and dissociation from self, followed by vivid dreams. Spore samples originally recovered from Special Project Group APICIUS in May of 1978. Additional samples were recovered in 2011 from H. neanderthalensis burial site (Cova de Gegants, Valencia Province, Spain) and subsequently cultivated for experimental use. 1.4 Inhabitants (8225-δ) The hominid population of Doèshyatoan, henceforth called the eshannu, consists predominately of H.sapiens, H. neanderthalensis, and hybrids thereof. Representatives of additional hominid species are present but not all have been conclusively identified due to lack of a comprehensive genetic survey.The initial attempt to collect samples was interpreted as prelude to sorcery and both led to the expulsion of that research team from the House, and necessitated a revised cover narrative.. The House's permanent population is estimated at between 3000 - 5000 persons, with an additional 200-500 temporary residents according to the frequency of pilgrimages. The population outside the House is unknown due to insufficient data. 1.4.1 Culture Groups The five culture groups listed below serve as the primary vehicle of social distinction among the eshannu; they do not correlate with ethnicity or species, which are not common divisions in eshannu thought. So as to emphasize the distinction between these groups, local endonyms are used instead of Icheyan names. Eshannu Culture Groups Endonym Description Amatànnaq The inhabitants of the House and its satellite villages. K!atwàsh Those who live on or around Lake Olupyaru and along Te'otakana. Send yearly trade missions to the mountains, and so serve as the primary point of contact between the House and the Chagh-u-Njoa. Telékę Semi-nomadic inhabitants of the forested regions of Ko'abyaru. Hwatezheteo Inhabitants of the eastern plains. Chagh-u-Njoa Rarely-encountered inhabitants of the Kube Otsiya. Primary source of metal in the region. Amatànnaq accounts indicate that the population is primarily or entirely H. neanderthalensis. Cultural minorities and enclaves may be found within all five major groups 1.4.2 Baseline Hominid Species The following list of hominid species contains conjectural entries: these have been marked accordingly. Baseline Hominid Species Clade Notes H. sapiens Most numerous at approx. 40% of House population. Significant ethnic diversity despite small population, suggests successive migrations to the House. H. s. idaltu Conjectural; uncertain if distinct species or subgroup of H. sapiens. H. x sapienthalensis Sapiens-neanderthalensis hybrid population. H. neanderthalensis Second most numerous at approx 25% House population. As with H. sapiens, significant population diversity. H. denisova Conjectural; uncertain if distinct species or subgroup of H. neanderthalensis. H. floriensis Uncommon within the House; larger populations found among the K!atwàsh and Telékę. H. heidelbergensis Conjectural; very small population within the House, primarily seen among the K!atwàsh. H. erectus Conjectural but likely; Three individuals encountered, no communication made..Affectionately called Odi-Odi ("the old men") by the other villagers, the three were observed to gather each morning outside the brewery in River District to play a stone matching game until sundown. Showed some understanding of Icheya and no ability to speak it, and so communicated primarily through gesture. 1.4.3 Non-Normative Hominid Species The following list contains all observed hominid species that do not have an equivalent in Baseline. All such subjects were encountered in only as extremely small populations, single individuals, or through secondhand descriptions. Non-Normative Hominid Species Clade Notes H. parthene H. sapiens tribe consisting six clone lines; all children sired, regardless of father, will be identical copies of the mother. H. n. cordyceps H. neanderthalensis tribe in mutualistic symbiosis with non-fatal strain of cordyceps fungus. Isolationist but not hostile; no direct interactions. H. astromirator Insular cultural enclave inhabiting the Dusk District of Anxeqaamat. Taller than average eshannu height by 30-45 cm. Hairless, low body fat. Bones weakened and prone to breaking. Ceremonial garb worn when out of clan hall. Paranthropus sapiens Sapient member species of genus paranthropus. Low population, typically avoid interaction with other eshannu. H. pseudolutra Amphibious clade found primarily in and around Lake Olupyaru. Fine waterproof hair covering entirety of body. Eyes, ears, and nostrils adapted for aquatic environments. Researcher's Note: Personhood and the Amatànnaq Close collapsible Researcher's Note: Personhood and the Amatànnaq Dr. Dominic Douglas The Amatànnaq, and the eshannu cultures at large, have an expansive conceptualization of personhood. It includes all members of what we would classify as homonidae, as well as: Sapient nonhumans, including elephants, corvids, and the Te'otakana river dolphin. Dogs, cats, and horses. Stars and planetary bodies. Personifications of natural forces. Natural features (rock formations, trees, bodies of water, etc) of noteworthy qama. Animals of noteworthy qama not previously included. Our most generous hosts. This broad-strokes approach to personhood goes hand-in-hand with the complex network of social bonds that is the bedrock of Amatànnaq society. Any given individual exists at the convergence of family lineage, clan association, initiatory society membership, and personal achievement, and this is the lens that they view the world in. Where you are from or what you might look like are incidental; Your House, your parentage, your achievements and your behavior are what is important. But regardless of how those aspects of a person manifest, they will remain part of Anxeqaamat. It's an intrinsic part of the name: Break it up and you have anxe-qama-ama-tà. The name-mother-place of all of us. Anxe- is the first person plural inclusive possessive marker, including the speaker and the listener. The House of my name and yours. We abandoned our attempt at a comprehensive taxonomic survey only a few weeks into our stay. The lack of genetic testing meant that we were already limited in what we could accomplish, but there was the other practical matter that taxonomy starts to break down when you start dealing with real living people. The difference between sapiens and neanderthalensis is a lot bigger on paper than it is when you're face to face. What does sapiens even mean when there are other species that think and act like you do? They're all just as human as you are. What does species mean when you have a population that's lived together and intermingled for as long as the Amatànnaq? It's easy to classify the dead. Most of the archaic humans we have names for are identified by bone fragments, because bone fragments don't talk back. But the main difference between a handful of molars in a cave and your Uncle Ngatuuk is time. He is no less real for being currently dead than he is hypothetical for once being alive. And so, seeing that we found ourselves in a place where Uncle Ngatuuk is alive here and now, we decided to stop where we were. The Amatànnaq get along just fine without drawing such divisions. 1.5 Guests of the House This section is still awaiting finalization; the following statements provided by Dr. Douglas are included to serve in the interim. Researcher's Note: Guests of the House Close collapsible Researcher's Note: Guests of the House Dr. Dominic Douglas The Elephants The elephants pass through at the bookends of summer as the migrate to and from their home beyond the mountains. They're too big to fit into the streets of the House comfortably, so the people go out to meet them at the tusk-road they've cleared through the forest. They stay for a day or two, sometimes more but not often. The matriarch, we called her the Greatest Grand-Mother. She was so big that you might think she carried the world on her back.Drawings of this individual that compare her to the other members of the herd put her in the upper range of size estimates for members of genus Palaeoloxodon., and she was old enough for it as well. Ama Xakama and Apa Ngondiya would speak with her privately, I don't know what about. News from abroad, I guess. Not many people in the House could understand their language, so we made do with gesture and intent. I remember an old woman holding up her little grandaughter to this old, old matron and saying "I knew Ganuka when I was as small as you, and she knew my mother before me." The elephant, blind in both eyes, gently pokes at the child with her trunk and chuffs in approval. The Shushèngo The shushèngo.Icheya: "hairy old men" trade with the House on occasion, usually during the rainy season and always during the evening. Only ever two or three of them at a time; they prefer solitude and don't typically travel in groups larger than that. Usually they'd trade some old kaiduko.Icheya: "living tool", a term used specifically for the engineered biotech of Sapient Terragen Species Γ (Megapithecus pattersoni sapiens). for worked metal or cloth goods. There wasn't really much more that happened - they never stayed longer than it took to do business, and they never talked, at least not that I knew of. People didn't have much to say about them, either: they're hairy old men who live deep in the forest. The old wars are still mentioned in songs and stories, but when they are it is always with melancholy and regret. The Chaameya It was midsummer, on one of those still, suffocating nights where you envy the dead. Lotu, two of his apprentices, and a few other men took this great red bull - an auroch, a real bull auroch - and led him out the Moon Gate to the edge of the woods, where there's an altar shaped like a bowl. They slit the bull's throat and let his blood drain out into the basin. Then they butchered his body, setting out the pieces in a shallow pit as if he were a man instead of a bull, and singing a circle chant as they did it. Even Lotu only knew the words, and not their meaning. When they had finished setting out the bull's parts in his grave and covered him with dirt, they ended the chant and retreated towards the Moon Gate in silence. Over the songs of the night insects there were voices like flutes and pipes; the Nightsingers emerged from the trees, their enormous eyes reflecting moonlight like cats. They drank the blood from the basin, they case their gazes back upon the men, and made a noise like that of a dirge for the dead. After this, they vanished back into the woods. Later, when I asked Luto the meaning of all this, he said: "They do not forgive us, not yet. Perhaps some day." The Court of the Green We only saw one true night parade.Dr. Douglas references here the Hyakki Yakō of Japanese folkloric tradition; the Icheya term for this event translates as "unexpected guests". during our time at the House: smaller groups of the good folk of the woods would visit on occasion, arriving in full only once every seven years to oversee the renewal of the Law of Gifts Given. We were the lucky year. It's beyond my ability to adequately describe. They came out of the forest, a crowd of hundreds or maybe even thousands lit by our paper lanterns and the glow of spirit-lights. Some took the forms of animals, others the forms of trees or flowers; some took the form of stone, or water, or fire, or the wind. Some appeared almost human, and others took forms that bore no resemblance to anything I know well enough to name. They marched up the road towards the Big House to the music of drums and reed pipes and the wordless songs of bird and beast. We celebrated alongside them, and knew that if we joined the column we would vanish into the woods forever. A sound from the woods caught my attention, and I turned my head. What I thought to be the tops of trees swaying in the evening breeze were revealed as the moss-covered antler tips of the Lord of the Forest as he strode out of the tree line. In his crown roosted the great king Simurgh, his queen the Phoenix, and the entire parliament of birds debating the names of God. Around his silent feet were his faceless courtiers and heralds, dancing like silent monkeys. We wordlessly followed him to the summit, and there the renewal ceremony was held. Oaths were sworn, vows remade. The Lord declared the conduct of humanity acceptable in his sight. We danced and sang and drank in the new year and nursed our hangovers the next morning, the night lingering in our heads as a dream. The Elder Someone was hammering on the bell up on the watch tower, and you could hear the others answer in the distance. Three slow strikes, three fast strikes - dong dong dong dong-dong-dong. People were shouting, running about, gathering at the sides of the road or on rooftops where they could get a view. I watched, dumbstruck, as people knelt in the dirt and pressed their faces into the dust. A mother shushed a frightened child with a tone of desperation. A man tugged at my sleeve and said: "Keep the chant. Do not look up. Wait for the bell." He knelt then and joined the mantra, and I followed his example. I kept my eyes shut tight against the dust and let the chant take over. The bell kept ringing - three slow strikes, three fast strikes - but the commotion had died down. The mantra turned over and over itself like a wheel. Spare us, oh lord of heaven. Turn your wrath from us, oh radiant one. Over and over again. That's not an Amatànnaq prayer. That's not something the Amatànnaq say to anyone. As we chanted, I could feel a growing heat against the back of my neck, and was aware of a bright light at the corners of my eyelids. The bell went silent. The heat and light grew more intense until it was like I was looking at the sun. Even with my eyes closed and face against the dirt. I could feel a presence slowly moving up the road. Like in a dream where you're certain that there's something outside the house even when you can't see it. It couldn't have taken longer than a minute, but it was agony. And then it passed. The heat and light diminished until it was all as it was before. The belltower rang once, and the chant trailed off. I opened my eyes and stood up, which my knees were not happy with. Everyone else seemed to be going back to their ordinary business, quieter now but not as shaken as I would have expected. I asked around the the hours afterwards, and got few answers. We had been visited by an Elder.The exact Icheya term used is specifically for ancient inanimates and is neutral, rather than the positive connotations of the term for an elderly person. , and for what purpose, no one knew. It simply happened from time to time, and while terrifying in the moment, the deference and awe vanished in the aftermath. The Elder had let them be this time, and that small comfort loosened peoples' tongues, as in this snippet of conversation that I find myself returning to. "Pah! Elders! Old bags of shit sitting on their golden stools!" "Golden shit-pits!" "They do nothing for us, why should we care?" 1.6 Children of the Stars and Earth (8225-ε) A class of polymorphic entity commonly found throughout Doèshyatoan. As these entities actively resist categorization and analysis according to scientific methodology, the following statement has been provided: Researcher's Note: On Names and the Nameless Warrònyanga, tsalego of Sun House They have no names because they are too old for names. We who are so brief in the world, we have names; we would forget who we are if we did not. But does the mountain have a name? We may call it this and that, but when we are dead our words are lost, and new words are given by new peoples. On and on. Words are only breath. Write it on a leaf, and the leaf returns to the earth. Write it in stone, and the stone will crumble. The mountain remains, even as its sharp and youthful edges are blunted by wind and water and years we cannot count. The mountain is its own name. We might forget who we are, but the mountain cannot forget. The mountain is its own name. Observational data from Doèshyatoan expeditions has been sufficient to link the 物の怪 to Baseline entities previously known to the Foundation, including SCP-███, SCP-████, SCP-████, and SCP-████.A full list of linked anomalies can be found under database tag SUNSET ACTUAL. This, in turn, has proved sufficient basis for a theorized cross-iteration supra-species of such entities..The SUNSET ACTUAL designation, while technically defined as referring to the nomenclative anomaly present, is not sufficient to avoid all hazards and should be invoked sparingly. It is currently hypothesized, due to the population discrepancy between Baseline and Doèshyatoan, that Baseline's endemic population of spirits of living places underwent a mass extinction / migration during the Tenzing-Wolfe Restructuring Event.See "Where Have They Gone?"" (Mendez, Javier 2018) for further information. and the mantle was subsequently inherited by Baseline human populations that went on to become the good people of the Taboo..See the relevant documentation for further details. Relations between the eshannu and those of the mystery are mediated by the Uganugurrit."Law of Gifts Given", an oral law code delineating the binding obligations between humanity and the powers of the world. It contains the means of calculating the calendar and holy days, directions for the performance of hospitality rituals, requirements for gifts, guidelines for appropriate behavior and environmental stewardship, and necessary recompense to be paid for transgressions. Its primary goals are: Continuation of peace between the eshannu and the [-—], and by extension continued human habitation of Doèshyatoan. The protection of each party by the other, when threatened by forces they alone cannot protect against. Of special note is that those who have become our friends bound by the Uganugurrit, typically those in common contact with humans, may permit the usage of stable names and titles. Hostile and dangerous entities will also commonly get names, as avoiding offering insult to a being that wishes harm upon oneself is considered pointless. A partial list of common varieties of our honored neighbors found within the House or the surrounding environs is provided here for illustrative purposes. Common Kin-Groups of the First and Last of the World Common Name (Translated) Description Wild House Appear as ordinary animals, save the ability to speak. Hearth-rakers Small, furry entities that commonly co-habitate with humans and protect dwellings. Flower-maidens Wooden humanoids with flowering hair. The handmaids of older, sessile dendroanimae. Thin-Not-Men Pale, faceless humanoids. Always seen at a great distance. Moth Princes Enormous bipedal moths. Nocturnal. Considered an omen of disaster but not its cause. Summer Lanterns Appear as enormous lightning-bugs. Abdomens contain the skeletons of those they lead off paths at night and devour. Diggers Mole-like beings that inhabit the tunnels beneath Anxeqaamat. Friendly and well-regarded. Big Blue Eyes Named so for their defining physical feature. Frightening in appearance, but pose no danger. Skatcha-Skatcha Named for the noises they make while causing trouble, which consumes most of their activity. Annoying, but generally harmless. River-Cat Serpentine otters. Love riddles, theft, and practical jokes. Too-Big-Prick A goat- or bison-headed humanoid with a penis so long it must be coiled up and carried. Commonly heard crying in the woods in self-pity. Moss-Beard-Men Appear as men with stone bodies and moss hair. Held to possess great wisdom and commonly sought out for guidance by tsalegos in training. Basket-Mothers Appear as emaciated, filthy women. Drag large grass baskets behind them, into which they stuff stolen children. A common foe of the War Society. Spirit Lights Luminescent clouds found near places of great qama. Researcher's Note: Classification of Animae Mundorum Dr. Allison Kerr It was much easier to categorize the changing ones of Doèshyatoan than any of the humans living there, an irony that was not lost on any of us. The material forms they take are arbitrary, which appeals to the part of our brains that's focused on sorting things into arbitrary groups. As the divisions among them are so overtly illusory, the lie of strict categorization is up front and in the open. Local beliefs lean into this, weaving a network of Houses and clans for the neighboring peoples much more complex than those used for the eshannu, and casually disregarded or changed with such frequency that it is something of a joke everyone is in on. 1.7 Amatànnaq Magical Practices (8225-θ) Due to the breadth and complexity of this topic, the full summary of magical practices within the House has been split off into Document 8225-θ-EXP. Researcher notes on the topic have been retained to provide context. Researcher's Note: Qama Dr. Malakai Tamahori At its most basic definition, qama represents a state of spiritual potency or sacredness found in many familiar spiritual practices. To the Amatànnaq, everything in the cosmos possesses qama, and some persons, places, and objects might possess qama in a greater or lesser amount than what would be considered normative. Additional nuance comes from its alternate meanings: qama can also be translated as "mantle" and "name". The former definition is literal - a short cape or poncho made of animal hide or woven grass, worn with a wooden mask by tsalego during ceremonies where it is necessary that they put on a new qama, the physical act of dressing in the garb representing the spiritual act of temporarily assuming a new spiritual power. The latter meaning extends from this; to have a name is to possess qama, and to take on a new name is to renew one's qama or even to change it entirely. All things have qama, and thus all things have names. All things change, and thus all things will change in their qama. Most Amatànnaq will go through several names during their lifetime, gaining new ones when they enter adulthood, when they marry, after performing great accomplishments or joining an initiatory society, and at their death. Researcher's Note: Tsale Dr. Dominic Douglas The Amatànnaq do not split the universe into the mundane and the magical, nor the sacred and the profane. There are things that are considered more sacred than others on the spectrum of qama, and there are certain types of qama that should not be mixed.The sacredness to be found in a latrine pit is not likely to move beyond it, for example., but all things contain some manner of positive spiritual potency.Even the class of entities commonly translated as "demons" and more accurately rendered as "dangerous ones" are considered to have at least the potential for positive traits even when they are overtly hostile.. This point of interaction between human beings and this mystic cosmos hinges on the principle of tsale ("knowledge"). To possess tsale is to have a deep understanding of the world and how it works, and then the ability to apply that understanding. A master carpenter has tsale of wood and awl and chisel, a master potter has tsale of clay and kiln and the wheel, and so on; there are as many manifestations of tsale as there are things in the cosmos to understand. No one can be born into tsale; it must be gained through experience and practice. Those who are found to have a particular knack for it will find themselves brought into the path of the tsalego whose role is to understand not just a single craft, but the whole of the world. The tsalego serves as spiritual advisor, teacher, and guide, as well as intermediary between humanity and those who were old before the mountains were young, and as link between the present and the past. Tsale stands in direct opposition to modern thaumaturgy as practiced by the Coalition and the Wandsmen; this latter school is not one of understanding, but of control. Do x-y-z, get a-b-c as the cosmos bends itself in spiritual sympathy to match the symbol and ritual invoked by the thaumaturge's will. In the Amatànnaq worldview this will cause qama to go foul from stagnation, and as such it is the domain of evil sorcerers. Having worked with Coalition thaumaturges in the past, I agree with the Amatànnaq assessment. 2. Timeline Date Description 12.MAY.1978 Documents referencing Anxeqaamat and the Pilgrim's Road, as well as spore samples of Peregrinus somnovium, are recovered from Special Project Group APICIUS after its liquidation..For further information regarding the loss of SPG APICIUS, SCP-████ and the subsequent Operation NIMROD, see Incident Report 39A.05.1978, and After-Action Report NIMROD-α. With no extranormal properties found at the time, the documents are logged as a Non-Anomalous Item-of-Interest and placed into long-term storage. The source of the documentation remains unknown..The encoding cipher used matches that used by field cells of Epsilon Command from 1971-1972 but bears no further identifying marks; APICIUS was associated with Gamma Command, and with no record of contact between APICIUS and any Epsilon field units in the surviving records of the respective command cells, the prior line of custody is considered lost. 03.OCT.1992 APICIUS documentation is pulled from storage for review and digitization during Anthropology Department records audit. No further action taken. 14.APR.2011 Additional samples of Peregrinus somnovium are found in Cova de Gegants. 09.MAY.2011 APICIUS documentation on the House earmarked for further study. Peregrinus somnovium cleared for human testing by the Research Review Board. 21.MAY.2011 Field Operations Division grants expeditionary clearance to the Anthropology Department for study of the House and its means of access..Advances in the Foundation's understanding of extra-universal spaces and Rosen-Fortune Bridges led to several dozen similar initiatives across the organization between 2000 and 2015. 20.NOV.2011 Expedition 1 makes first successful entry onto Pilgrim's Road; Research team does not reach the House, but standing clearance is granted for further study. 17.MAR.2012 Expedition 5 makes first encounter with another traveler on the Pilgrim's Road. Study of the Icheya language begins..As the main shared language of pilgrims and the Amatànnaq , Icheya has remained the primary focus of SCP-8225 linguistic studies. 06.OCT.2014 Expedition 22/1 makes first successful completion of the Pilgrim's Road. Research team remains in the House for three days before departing due to supply and morale issues. 20.SEP.2016 First version of the Icheya grammar is completed and the associated language learning course is approved. 05.NOV.2016 Expedition 40/7 is approved by the Field Studies Office. Personnel selection and preparation begins. 21.FEB.2017 Expedition 40/7, consisting of Dr. Allison Kerr, Dr. Malakai Tamahori, and Dr. Dominic Douglas departs from Site-46. 25.MAR.2017 Expedition 40/7 arrives at Anxeqaamat. 30.AUG.2017 Planned return-by date of Expedition 40. 31.OCT.2017 Expedition 40/7 is declared missing-in-action. 03.NOV.2017 Proposed follow-up mission is approved by the Field Studies Office, but is unable to access the Pilgrim's Road after multiple attempts. Reason unknown. Expedition 40 remains missing-in-action..Further attempts to access the Pilgrim's Road failed through June of 2018, though none of the attempts that followed succeeded in reaching the House. 27.OCT.2018 Dr. Douglas returns from the House. Doctors Kerr and Tamahori are reported as deceased. 28.OCT.2018 Inquiry into deaths of Doctors Kerr and Tamahori is filed. Expeditions to the House are placed on indefinite hold. 04.NOV.2018 Recall interviews begin with Dr. Douglas. 09.NOV.2018 Inquest interviews begin with Dr. Douglas. 2.1 Expedition 40/7 Departure Date: 21/FEB/2017 Arrival Date: 25/MAR/2017 Estimated Return-by Date: 30/AUG/2017 Return Date: 27/OCT/2018 Total Length: 614 days (1 year, 8 months, 7 days) Lead Researcher: Dr. Allison Kerr Secondary Researchers: Dr Malakai Tamahori, Dr. Dominic Douglas Summary: 90-day cultural research expedition to Anxeqaamat, scheduled for the summer of 2017. Expedition was delayed from returning by unforeseen and unexplained difficulties in accessing the Pilgrim's Road. Research team continued research study throughout delay period. According to Dr. Douglas' statements, the site was attacked by members of Pre-TWRE Culture Group α in early September of 2018, leading to the deaths of Dr. Kerr and Dr. Tamahori, who were interred on-site. Dominic Douglas returned as the only survivor of the team on 27/OCT/2018. Logudo of Clay House spends an afternoon fishing. Drawn from recall by Dr. Douglas. 3. Interview Logs Thousands of hours of interviews have been recorded across expeditions to the House and Pilgrim's Road. The conversations presented below below have been selected by the research team as containing noteworthy content. A complete listing of transcribed interviews can be found in the SCP-8225 Interview Database. 3.1 Recovered Interviews The following interviews were shared with Dr. Douglas for redundant eidetic recording, as they were judged to be of special interest for study outside the direct remit of SCP-8225. They are the only statements of Dr. Kerr or Dr. Malakai to have survived Expedition 40/7. Recovered Interview A Recovered Interview B Recovered Interview C Subject Name: Chòndu'ang Interviewing Researcher: Dr. Kerr Description: Non-human humanoid. ~2.5 meters in height. Skin smooth and hairless: primarily black/dark grey in coloration with lighter speckles and underbelly. Large, round head; eyes and mouth larger in proportion than human norm, no external nose structure save nostrils. Bright red fin/crest.Analogous in appearance to similar structure found on the giant oarfish (Regalecus glesne). running from above the forehead, across the crown of the head, down the neck to between the shoulder blades. Right leg missing below the knee, replaced with wooden prosthetic; left leg missing entirely. Researcher's Notes: Interview occurred during Dr. Kerr's early explorations of the River District. The subject, a weaver by trade, was encountered in the open-air workshop adjoining his house as Dr. Kerr was exploring the area. [Subject waves Dr. Kerr over to his shop.] Chòndu'ang: Ho there, sister! I've knocked my crutch out of reach, would you grab it? [Kerr does as requested.] Chòndu'ang: Ah, many thanks. [Chòndu'ang maneuvers himself around the back of the house, urinates loudly, and returns to his loom.] Chòndu'ang: I feel more piss than man some days, I must be getting old. Thank you, sister. You're a pilgrim, yes? I don't believe we've met, though I say that to many people I've met before. One too many blows to the head to keep anything up there for long, ha-ha. Sit a while, talk with me; my bowl is yours. I am Chòndu'ang, and Chòndu'ang is me. [Chòndu'ang sits back down at his loom and resumes weaving. Kerr sits on nearby stool and takes a handful of dried fruit.] Kerr: Kèrrà, of the City of the Warrior Saint..Dr. Kerr's preferred calque of her home city of St. Louis. Chòndu'ang: Ah, I know a thing or two about warriors, not so much about saints. How do you find the city? Kerr: New wonders every day. Chòndu'ang: Aha, and now you have found another! Speak well of me in whatever codex you are working on - I know a scholar when I see one. Kerr: Of course. What are you working on? Chòndu'ang: A marriage shawl for my niece. Òdde is her name, and she's chosen Gizu of Rain House. A good man, a fine fit for a husband. [He sighs] Ah, time is cruel. Only yesterday she ran up to me with a bloody smile and a milk tooth clutched in her fist. Then I blink and fifteen years have gone by. [He shakes his head.] But it will be a good shawl. Kerr: I'm sure it will be. May I ask how you were injured? Chòndu'ang: How have I not been injured? I didn't get these scars from gardening! [Laughter] Well, except this one on my finger, [He holds up his right index finger] a worm gave me a nasty bite once. But you are asking about the legs, I take it. [He pats his right thigh]. This one I lost during the sea campaign of Oluggadhan - a pirate got behind me with a boarding hook while his friend got to chopping. It ended worse for them. The other I lost during the retreat from Kodu-Hem. We held the city for five weeks before the walls fell and the horn was sounded. Chòndu'ang: They aren't the first such injuries I've received, but they might be the last. It will be many more years before they return, if they do at all. Kerr: Which war did you fight in? Chòndu'ang: Ah, sister, there's only ever been one war that mattered. If you don't know of it, then your home country is blessed. Much better to be far away from the front than fighting in it. Kerr: I'd still like to hear of it, if you'd share the story. Chòndu'ang: I am a prince, if you’ll believe it, of a dark and distant land far across the sea. My father, damn him seven raised seven times, was an usurper of the old queen - my grandmother, you understand. Took the crown right off her bloodied corpse. My mother, who has no love for him and rightfully so, has been plotting his downfall since before I was born. Kerr: And you're looking to retake the throne? Chòndu'ang: No, no, there are some ruins that cannot be repaired. I want to see him dead and deposed, and let time wipe his kingdom from earth and memory. Besides, there are many hundreds of my own brothers and sisters still alive, scattered as we are, and myriads more by my father's other wives: it would be inheritance squabbles until the end of the age. I am not a lover of war, sister; merely a fool swept up in the lie of glory. But it is such a beautiful lie, isn't it? The snap of banners in the wind, the gleam of armor in the sun, the weight of the war-club in your hand. The heart swells with pride. Yes! Yes! [He raises his fist and shakes it in triumph] It was we who drove him back at Tlakostr! We who broke the siege of Ra-Duré! We who shattered his forces in the jungles of Veyat, in the pale of Graevach, on the beaches of Mshènshoqa! At Ngustaa Pass I fought alongside Onteus-One-Holy. Thrice-five hundred of us there were under his silver banner, nearly four score of my brothers and sisters as well, and we held the pass against his legions until we had made mountains of the dead! [Chòndu'ang stops and settles himself, sighing.] Chòndu'ang: See? So easy to fall back in its thrall, to forget the blood and shit and screams of dying men. If there is one thing to commend my father for, it is that he has no guile at all. He lets others do the lying for him. Kerr: He sounds like a real piece of shit. Reminds me of mine. Chòndu'ang: [Laughter; he slaps his remaining thigh] Aha! Oh, sister of my heart and soul. What manner of lout was he? Lech, drunkard, brute? Kerr: He was…god-mad. Bewitched? His mind was like stone and he had bad qama..Icheya does not have an exact equivalent to "zealot" or "fundamentalist", leading Dr. Kerr to use a more novel construction. Chòndu'ang: Ah. Yes, he would get on well with mine, who thinks himself god of gods and lord of lords. Kerr: Certainly. Chòndu'ang: Too many men of that character, it seems. But, enough of that. Let our fathers rot together and talk of better things ourselves. [The conversation continues on to more mundane topics for the remainder.] Subject Name: Temou-Ge-Hwadha Interviewing Researcher: Dr. Kerr Description: Young adult member of Species of Interest-002-Δ.Only known descendant clade of SOI-002 to survive to the present day after the destruction of their parent civilization c. 700 mya.. Used speech synthesizer with masculine voice. Coloration and iconography of pressure suit vestments indicated a rank of junior missionary; based on the conversation below, Dr. Kerr believed him to have come to Anxeqaamat as part of pre-diaconate ordination pastoral work. Researcher's Notes: Dr. Kerr specifically sought out the subject after learning of their presence. Subject had set up a pressurized tent outside the House of Other Gods, likely for convenient access to the donation altar within. [Dr. Kerr approaches the House of Other Gods. Subject is loitering outside next to a rack of pamphlets.] Temou-Ge: Excuse me! Hello! Peace to you! [They hold out a pamphlet.].This pamphlet has been lost, but according to Dr. Douglas it was an Icheyan translation of Bastion of the Holies. I am Temou-Ge-Hwadha of the church of the Second Hytoth. Might you be willing to spare a small donation of blood for the cause of universal salvation? Rakmou-Leusan continues his battle against the great devourers, and the need for blood does not stop. Kerr: Of course, give me a prick. [Kerr rolls up her right sleeve.Dr. Kerr had significant prior experience with terrestrial Ortothan denominations and regularly emphasized the importance of blood donation as a best-practice means of information gathering, stating in her Orientation Day 2015 panel that "[Ortothans] become real Chatty Cathys when you cooperate, and they won't stop talking until long after you want to leave. Listen, nod along, ask some easy questions, and you'll hear everything you could possibly want.". Temou-Ge swiftly finds an appropriate vein, applies local disinfectant, and begins drawing blood with a hand-held device.] Kerr: I’m surprised to see you here, friend. I didn’t think the church reached this far. Temou-Ge: The need for blood does not stop, and so we go where there might be receptive hearts. But I have had precious little success since my arrival, this is a stiff-necked and obstinate people. Hubris! I was warned against it by my hwethon .A senior priest serving as a mentor for clergy-in-training. and yet I played the fool anyway. Kerr: Is it that bad? Temou-Ge: When I arrived, I asked the mother of the Great House if I might speak to her people all at once. She assembled a crowd, and I implored them for aid in the great fight, recited the Arguments for the Faith and the War Litany. I thought that invoking the mighty acts of Rakmou-Leusan would be sufficient - it usually is - but do you know what they did? They laughed at me! Laughed at me and said such things as "If this Rakamu is as great a warrior as you say, why is he having so much trouble?" and "Perhaps he should go back to the War Society and train more!" A child, a child, stood up and said that Rakmou is lying, that he could not have come from the First Hytoth because he would have starved from lack of blood before humans were made.The Leusan Hemoparadox, despite all efforts by the Ortothan Orthodoxy to stamp it out, has proven to be a perennial staple of schismatic movements within the church. It is often conjoined with and further fueled by the fact that Species of Interest-002 does not possess blood. See "Our Gods Do Not Bleed: Heresies in the Early Ortothan Church" (Amaz, Adi 2021) for further information.. I tried to explain, but they would not listen, and shouted over me with more mockery and laughter. Kerr: That sounds terrible. What did you do?" Temou-Ge: I tried one last appeal, disregarding all apologetics, but they still did not listen. But by then they grew bored of mocking me and departed. On the way out, a woman said that she would have some blood for me the next week. My spirits soared: even if only one in ten hundred hears the message and offers, it is a victory. Perhaps she merely needed some time to prepare her spirit, I thought nothing of the delay. I visited her the next week, and… Kerr: What happened? Temou-Ge: She handed me a basket of rags, all crusted with monthly-blood,.Indicating that the woman had stopped taking lòx, likely in an attempt to become pregnant. and laughed at me even harder than the rest! Kerr: She didn't. Temou-Ge: She did! A perfect punchline for this disaster! [Temou-Ge finishes taking the blood sample and applies a bandage.] Temou-Ge: A thousand thanks and blessings, on behalf of the congregation and the Holy Fourth. Kerr: May his spear be sharpened and his armor gleam bright. Subject Name: Tabbassum ibn Falāsifa al-Ḵasāra Interviewing Researcher: Dr. Tamahori Description: Altered human. ~2.1-2.3 meters tall. Extremely thin, ribs visible. Androgynous facial structure. Skin chalk-white in coloration; feet and shins are black. Fractal sunburst pattern tattooed in red and gold around the heart, where a soft orange glow is visible through the skin. Clothing consists solely of loincloth. Jewelry of gold, obsidian, and lapis lazuli; piercings in ear, nose, and lip of same materials. Researcher's Notes: Subject encountered by Dr. Tamahori during exploration of the Empty Quarter. See the documentation for SCP-████ for further information. [Dr. Tamahori emerges onto the main road. Subject is smoking a pipe while perched on the crossguard of a large sword that has been driven into the ground.] Tamahori: [In Icheya] You’ll blunt the tip, sticking it in the ground like that. [al-Ḵasāra hops off their sword and pulls the weapon out from the ground: the tip has been squared off, and the edge is both blunt and chipped.] al-Ḵasāra: [In English] Ah, but as you can see, there is no point. [They flourish the sword.] This is the line of…ah, you know the rest. It is a worthless lump of steel I won from an idiot and it is of little consequence. To what do I owe the pleasure of the Dukutannaq's.Icheya; "people of the root cellar" or "people of the potato place". company? Tamahori: I’m sorry, I’m part of the Society of Celesti- al-Ḵasāra: If you think that parlor trick will fool me, I commend your bravery. I do not, however, recommend trying it again. [al-Ḵasāra dumps the ash out of their pipe.] We're guests of a civilized and decent people, let's follow their example and do proper introductions. I am Tabbassum ibn Falāsifa, known to all as al-Ḵasāra, once of Cordoba and now a gentleman of the road. Peace be upon you, in the name of the most compassionate corpse of God. Tamahori: Malakai Tamahori, Foundation Department of Anthopology. What gave me away? al-Ḵasāra: A rich man cannot simply dress as a poor man and think his guise complete. Tamahori: I guess he can't. al-Ḵasāra: To pre-emptively answer your question, I've crossed paths with your employer on occasion. Though I think after the first few encounters your superiors decided to give me a wide berth. I'm certain you have some scroll or another about me, tucked away in some musty nook where no one ever goes. Tamahori: I haven't seen it, if we do. [al-Ḵasāra exhales a cloud of smoke] al-Ḵasāra: You've come at a bad time, doctor. I'm just about to leave. But, in the interest of fairness, you have until I reach the gate to ask me whatever you want. I know how your people love their questions. At least until you find the answer you don’t like. [al-Ḵasāra shoulders their weapon and begins to walk down the road, with Dr. Tamahori following alongside.] Tamahori: All right. Why are you here? al-Ḵasāra: I have some lovers in the House, and stopped over for a while before I return to my trade. Tamahori: And what's your trade? al-Ḵasāra: The practice of brute violence. Tamahori: Against who? al-Ḵasāra: Who is it not against? The world is awash in fools clawing and biting their way to power. I perch in the upper rungs of the ladder and kick them back down. Sometimes the message is not clear enough and I have to start cutting off fingers. Still they persist, forever chasing godhood in distant and dream-wreathed Al-Gáyḍa. Tamahori: Could you elaborate at all on that? al-Ḵasāra: Each step along the spiral path brings one closer to godhood and further from humanity. Over and over again they think "this time, I will succeed", and over and over again they fail. Perfection cannot exist, it cannot be grasped in this world. Every path to it is a dead end, and those who survive to completion of their great work will only find themselves backed into a throne they cannot escape. All the rest die. Perhaps they become a monster first. Tamahori: And you're the one who kills them. [al-Ḵasāra smiles] al-Ḵasāra: As it is said; should you ever find God along the road, strike Him down. Tamahori: This Al-Gáyḍa you mentioned, what is it? al-Ḵasāra: How much numerology do you know? Likely a good deal of sevens and fives, but the number for today is four. Four compass points, four divine cities; You stand in one of them, the City of Stone. Then there is the City of Light and the City of Rust, each forever eating the tail of the other. Last there is Al-Gáyḍa, the City on the Shore, the city of hopes and dreams and sickened things. [al-Ḵasāra and Tamahori arrive at the Broken Gate] al-Ḵasāra: And now our time is up. Goodbye for now, Doctor. I'm certain I'll meet your people again. [al-Ḵasāra swings their sword through a series of long arcs before cutting off their own head. They vanish in a simultaneous lightning strike.] 3.2 Additional Interviews Additional Interview A Additional Interview B Additional Interview C Subject Name: "Lady Yasuke".An appellation used by the research team with the subject's approval; real name unknown. Interviewing Researcher: Dr. Douglas Description: Woman of unknown ethnicity, though likely of a Bantu people. Age unknown. Large scar dominates the left half of her face; cheek was torn and did not fully close during recovery. Researcher's Notes: Arrived in Anxeqaamat 10-15 years ago and has remained as a special guest of the Great House. Known to the inhabitants of the Sun and River Districts as a serious, distant woman of few words. This statement constitutes the most meaningful direct interaction the research team had with her. Yasuke: I do not know where I was born, nor what my mother named me. If I ever knew, I lost it long ago and now only our brother Death knows. Perhaps he will tell me, at the end. But it doesn't matter. What people call me, that is my name. If they have none for me, I have no name at all. You know me as Yasuke, and so I am. Yasuke: Your people do have the story right, at least the part they know: I was once a servant of a priest, and later I was a retainer of Oda Nobunaga. When he was betrayed, I fled to the mountains. They had called me an animal when they thought I would not hear them, but in those years I truly lived as a beast. I shed my clothes, I lost my speech, I chased down deer with nothing but bare feet and a rusted blade. The mountains are poor teachers of humanity, but excellent tutors of sword law; By the time I learned how to be human again, I could kill thirty men before drawing my blade. Yasuke: When at last I came down from the mountains, fifty years had passed and I had grown no older. The world was no better. I offered my sword to Amakusa Shirō and served as his retainer through his war. We broke the siege of Hara Castle and fought the shogun's men to a standstill. I do not know if that little domain still stands. I hope that it does. It was never as peaceful as we had wished, but… if it has fallen, then at least this House still stands. Douglas: And what brought you here? Yasuke: I was tired. I am tired. [She holds up her right hand, letting her sleeve fall down and revealing an iron manacle with a single link of chain] Yasuke: This will be the last chain to be broken. And this… [She pats the larger of her two swords; its scabbard is wrapped in red string and ofuda]…This will be the sword that will kill its maker. If it is the last thing to be done in all of time, so must it be. But there are more, always more, crawling up out of hell. Strike one down and three more come to feast on his corpse. [She pauses.] Yasuke: There comes a time in every task, when one must either rest or die. I chose to rest. Subject Name: Dèzha Toryis of the Bharsûmata Interviewing Researcher: Dr. Douglas Description: Non-human humanoid. Skin is wrinkled, hairless, and rust-red in coloration. Thick layer of insulating blubber. Researcher's Notes: Subject is royal daughter (Zhèddaq-kil) of the Bharsû city state of Ey'leyium, as well as priestess of Yssu. Toryis: We had barely cleared the port of Kluryos when our bad luck hit. The lighthouse had cleared our way and seen us off, but disturbances in the winds carried us just a finger off-course - disasterous with these distances. We had to make up the difference by our own power, and while the ship's engine was strong, we had only so much fuel for the boiler. The sailors called the entire journey cursed by my presense, and openly so. Their respect for my father, even if it was just lip service, did not extend to me. The priestesses of Yssu are not well-loved among the common-folk. They see us as haughty, meddlesome, ignorant and alienated. In most circumstances, that's a fair assessment. Douglas: And you said you were here on a scholarly mission, correct? Toryis: Yes. My homeland is too far away for feasible military or mercantile alliance, so our trade must be in knowledge. Not many in the senate or my own order felt it worth the cost, which severely limited my funds. Likely for the best - the fashions of the palace are consistently only in novelty and jealousy. If I return with too impressive of a gift, there'll be a dozen ships by this time next year. Douglas: I won't tell them if you won't. Toryis: "For this winter, sloth-fur is in!" [Snorting laughter] I shall not say a word. If they read my codex at all, they'll surely be bored with it soon and go back bickering over my father's countless little wars. Douglas: That's for the best. I am interested in seeing your ship, though; is it able to sail the river as well as the sea, or did you have to take a smaller craft? Toryis: Oh! I'm sorry, I think I may have used the wrong word earlier. My ship isn't on the river at all, it's… [She looks to the starlit sky and points out a dim, steadily moving point of light.] Toryis: There it is, the Tuvya. My true body and the sailors are all up there, sleeping until it is time to return. Douglas: [In English] Huh. I'll be damned. Subject Name: Ama Xakana, Apu Ngondiya Interviewing Researcher: Dr. Douglas Description: Mid to late 50s. Mixed sapiens-neanderthal lineage for both. Skin dark, eyes blue-grey, hair red-brown. Researcher's Notes: The clan mother and father as well as dual tsalego of the Great House; caretakers of the sacred grove and cave at the summit of the hill and officients of the Uganugurrit and its renewal. Douglas: If you could give me one message to bring back to my people, what would you say? [Ama Xakana closes her eyes and puffs on her pipe.] Xakana: That we are still here. Too many pilgrims come to us and act as if we have faded away into the sunset, that we are some memory of what came before. Do they think that time has stopped for us here? That we do not change as all things change? We are still here. We live. We endure. We go onward. The road is long and the way is difficult, but we are still here. Ngodiya: [Nodding] Mmm. She speaks the truth. Many have forgotten us, and so they come to us to chase the dreams in their own head. They say they seek tsale, but they get frustrated because they look at the world backwards. They see what they think the world should be, and force the world to fit in a basket too small for it. To have tsale is to know what the world is, and then to decide how to proceed. They are so focused on finding the past that they cannot see the now, and so they leave disappointed. Xakana: There is no return to yesterday except in dreams. Dreams are pleasant things, but they flee with the dawn. To always be looking behind you is a sickness of the spirit. Ngondiya: And not one easily healed. Xakana: This is what we will say to your people. Douglas: Thank you. I'll make sure they hear it. Researcher Statement: Ama Kubeya Dr. Dominic Douglas Ama Kubeya arrived on the back of great honey-eater a few days before the new year.Locally celebrated on the vernal equinox.. She had barely dismounted when the children rushed out to greet her. They streamed out through the Sun Gate, cheering and laughing and shouting “Ama! Ama is here!” She sat down there in the road and they gathered around her like clouds around a mountain, clamoring to show her with charcoal drawings, new toys, lost teeth. A few of the adventurous ones tried climbing up onto her shoulders, and she let them try. The adults kept their distance, but made no effort to stop the children from going to see her. I asked Ama Xakana where Kubeya’s scars had come from, and she said only “When the brown one hears the cry of her child, the hunter dies.” I understood what she meant and said nothing else. A girl no older than five came to the front of the pack and offered the Mother of the Mountain a corn husk doll. Delighted, Ama Kubeya held it aloft in scarred brown fingers as thick as my wrist and danced it along in the air. A while later, a tsalego and their apprentice came to the gate, both in full regalia. They shooed away the children and sprinkled Ama Kubeya with water from a pine branch. I couldn’t make out what prayers were said. Not many in any case; it was a very short rite. They departed as soon as it was done, but Ama Kubeya remained outside the gate. When I asked Ama Xakana why Kubeya had stayed outside the House, she told me “If all the water in the sea were blood, it would still be only a single drop of what she has shed. And she will shed far more than that by the time her task is done.” Ama Kubeya stayed for a few days, never passing beyond the Sun Gate, and then left during the night. 3.3 Selected Narratives A complete listing of transcribed narratives can be found in the SCP-8225 Story Database. How the World was Made 1 How the World was Made 2 How the World was Made 3 How the World was Made 4 How the Eshannu Came to the House A Story About Power A Story Told by Two Old Women While Grinding Corn Pending Additions How the World was Made As told by Paiya, tsalego of Willow House Long ago the world was empty and very dark, and nothing lived there. There was no sun and no moon, only the stars, and they were very far away. The Seven Great Stars said to each other "we have sat still for too long; let's go down and walk about the sky, where there is more room for us", and so they did. They found that they liked traveling across the sky more than sitting among on the banks of the Great River, and so established a new domain for themselves. But one of them grew tired of wandering the sky, and left the company of the others. He became the Sun, and his wife the Moon followed him. He gathered together a great many stones and great piles of dirt, and said "I will make a garden here, full of good and growing things." Now, when the Seven Great Stars came down from the heavens and made their domain in the sky, many others came with them. They went to the Sun and said "We will help you in making your garden, for we wish to see it made well." And so they did. First there were the Kalosuu'ata, who sang the pattern of the world. Then came the Giants, Angada, and his thousand-thousand sons; they worked for seven ages to shape the world out of clay according to the pattern woven by the Kalosuu'ata. When they were done they were very tired, and they went down below the earth to sleep. This is where earthquakes come from and why some mountains far away breathe fire; Angada and his sons are having bad dreams. Many little stars came down as well. When the Giants were done with their work, the little stars breathed themselves into the world and life in abundance filled the garden; all manner of plants sprung from the ground, and there were beasts of the land, and of the air, and of the sea. But the Sun found that he could not take care of his garden; he'd burn it down if he got too close, being so hot. The moon could not take care of it either, for she could only see it at night, and she was often too hungry to think about it. This is when Xanda the serpent, who had been sleeping in the branches of a great tree, said to the Sun "My sister Tsimuye and I, and our sibling Udannu, will look after the world in your stead. We will care for it as you have cared for it, and see that it does not come to ruin." They spoke at length for some time more, and the Sun found no ill intent in the serpent or his sister. Udannu, of course, had virtue beyond questioning. And so the Sun granted them the care of the world and returned to his place in the sky, where he might protect his garden from the jealousy of the Five Great Stars and the gods of the great darkness. Later, when people emerged from the red clay of the earth, Tsimeye taught them how to use tools; Xanda taught them of tsale and of how to recognize good from evil; And Udannu kept watch through the night. This is how we tell it. As told by Lu'agan of Oak House Before the sun and moon, when there were only dark waters, the great dragon Senyana laid an egg in the depths. The Great Star breathed life into the egg, and out came Ngonna'e the turtle. Ngonna'e swam into the depths and brought up dirt on his shell, and out of the dirt came all living things. But the world was still dark, and so it was decided that the Ferret would go and steal fire from the Great Star. This was easy for Ferret, who was cleverest of the animals, but the fire burnt his paws and his face as he brought it back. But when he did, the other animals said "Look at what you have done, Ferret! The powers of the night can see your fire, and they are jealous of it. They will come and take it with their warriors." Ferret, who was very boastful, said "Let them come - I am faster and more clever than they are." This was true, but the powers of the night had many more warriors than Ferret could outwit. No matter how many fell into his traps and tricks, more would come, until they had warriors marching around the entirety of the world, looking for the flame. The animals fled, then. They built canoes for themselves and fled from Ngonna'e by night. The fire of the Great Star was split among those selected by lots. Many of them were caught and killed by the powers of the night, and many more were never heard from again. But we know of some who lived: the brothers Elder Ape and Younger Ape, who built a fast canoe; the white elephant, who was so vast that she could wade across the sea as if it were a puddle; raven, who flew in the black between the stars; cat, who was caught eight times but not on the ninth; snake, who shed his skin and slipped from their grasp; the shaggy one, who cannot be killed; dog, who could run without growing tired. That is how we tell it. As told by Dza Doshak, a guest of the House Manyudoshai, who sleeps forever by the drumming of Shikarala and dreams all things into being, rolled over in slumber and dreamed anew. The old age passed away, and the great powers of the sky and the depths were remade, and the age in which we now live came into being. When this dream has run its course Manyudoshai shall turn once more, and all will be made again. So is how it was to be, and will always have been. As told by Jihraiu, a guest of the House Kpofa Daguula grew bored and masturbated into the empty sky. Transforming into a woman, she ate the seed and became pregnant. She then gave birth to the Earth, Moon and Sun. But there was disagreement between them over who was most favored of Kpofa Daguula, and in rage and jealousy they tore apart the body of their father-mother. From the body came the 365 myriads of demons we call the gbakaj koru. They devoured the body of Kpofa Daguula and were not satisfied. Earth said "I will make people to fight them", and so made people out of clay. But they were overcome. Sun said "I will grant them my fire", and so gave the people weapons of light. Still they were overcome. Moon said "I will grant them my magic," and so gave the people mighty spells. Still they were overcome. The people cried out for aid, but the Earth had grown sick, the Sun had grown distant, and the Moon had gone mad. They turned to each other and said "It is time now, sisters and brothers, to make peace with Death our kinsman, for we shall not endure the night." But one among them said "I am the herald of the Bringer of Good Things, who comes to heal the world. Give me one more night, and they shall arrive with the dawn, and all will be made well." Thinking him a fool, the people paid him no mind, but neither did they stop him from speaking. If they died tonight or tomorrow, what then is the difference? It is still night, my friends. I do not know when dawn will come, but we have not died yet. As told by No'alu, tsalego of River House Long ago and longer still, there was an age of great famine in the world. The soil was sick, and likewise the air and water. Nothing grew in the land, and the whole of the world was cold and dark. The tsalego of that age convened a council of the wisest among them. For seven days and seven nights they consulted the bones, the stars, and the spirits. At daybreak of the seventh day, they emerged from their longhouse and said "Hear us, o peoples! We have been granted a sign! See now, the star that rises in the east? It shall be our guide. The path is clear and the road is hard. We must endure it." And so we followed the star. Onward, through gnawing cold and starving years. Onward, across the ice. Forward, into the night, with bloodied feet and frozen hands. Forward, with the hunters at our heels. The star no longer guided us, and still we went forth. For twelve generations we endured, until at last the road ended in this land where the sun meets the moon. That is how we tell it. Other peoples will tell you of their roads. As told by Badu of Red Deer House A student of the Tumbling Way asked his teacher: Isanda, I am curious. In all the world, who is the strongest?" His teacher, who had been attempting to enjoy his smoking pipe as the student chopped firewood, answered thus: "You have, perhaps inadvertently, stumbled across one of the seven stupid questions. The answer is your mother and mine, Ama Kubeya. None may stand against her and live." "Not even the king across the sea?" asked the student. "No, not even he. She would smite him dead with a single blow," said his teacher. Unshaken from his line of questioning, the student continued: "That may be true, but what if it is as the philosophers say, that all things are infinite in form and are themselves emanations of greater infinities?" "Then she would strike him down with infinite force, and he would die infinitely. It would be a great deal of extra work for the same result," said his teacher. The student continued: "But what of those who are said to change the very world by thought or word?" At this, his teacher spat on the ground and rubbed at his temple, saying: "Are you purposefully being obtuse, or are you simply revealing new layers of stupidity that you already possessed? Ama Kubyea, your mother and mine, can be neither defeated nor broken." "But if such power is hers, why has she not exercised it?" the student cried out in frustration. "Would you rather see the world destroyed in the name of entertaining stupid questions? She could tear the Black Crown from his head and bludgeon him to death, as if it were no more than a sharpened rock. This would come at the cost of all that she loves, and the whole world, and her own self. She could do it: no one else would survive. Any idiot can come to possess great power, and thus it is of little value. The wisdom to use it well is much more difficult to attain." Taking an egg from the chicken coop, the teacher handed it to his student and said: "Now make a fist and strike me with a killing blow, but do not let it break." The student took the egg, and then swung with his left fist which held nothing. His teacher had expected this maneuver, however, and cast the student sprawling onto the ground. The egg flew up into the air and the teacher caught it as it fell. “If one holds something precious in their hand, they ought to be careful not to grip it too tightly," the teacher said, placing the egg back in its nest. "And for wasting my time with this foolishness, one hundred sets of the Laughing Crane." As told by Kima of Willow House The queen with no name was a thief of children. Not because she liked children, you see, she did not like children one bit. Nor because she wanted children, for she had many of her own and disliked all of them. She stole children because it hurt people, and it pleased her to do so. She sent her servants out to snatch up children who stayed out too late or explored too deep in the woods, and made sure each time that the parents would hear the cries of their stolen sons and daughters. When our ancestors learned of this - oh, five or so great-grandmothers back, or so I heard it - they demanded she cease: when she ignored their pleas, they wove a great magic and cursed her with a powerful qama. Thus she became bearer of the name “Mother of Them All”, a name too great to bear, and in punishment she was sealed away deep in a secret place. As told by Toyo of Willow House Pah! Don't listen to that doddering old biddy. The queen with no name was someone else, in some other story. I’ll tell you that one later. The Mother of Them All was formed from the thoughts of infants, you see, that is why she has no face and is all bosom. Infants are not very wise and do not see things clearly, so she is not well-formed and possesses no traits of a good woman. That is why she has no mind in her head or soul in her lungs. She is too simple of a thing to know how people are supposed to be, she doesn’t even know that people get old! That is why she breaks the taboo, she does not know. The following narratives have been whitelisted for translation and inclusion. Chiche and Tungguk.Flying squirrel and ground sloth, respectively. Cause Problems for Everyone - A farce about a complicated and ultimately ineffectual attempt to steal honey from the Queen of Bees. How Yama Crossed the River - A story detailing the origins of the kokyo'anga.The third gender and accompanying school of tsalego in Amatànnaq culture. and the defeat of the monster Fingernails-for-Teeth. Lus-Lus and the Missing Mask - A popular puzzle-story about an eccentric tsalego who bumbles his way through a mystery. Extensive audience participation is expected. The Black Canoe - A horror story about a monster that plies Te'otakana with the titular man-eating vehicle. When Rain Came to the House - Three-night performance where the end of the Grandfather Drought is weighed against the Dandelion clan father's escalating personal crisis. The Twelve Lovers of Wide-Hipped-Woman - A bawdy comedy of errors about the competition for the affection of a renowned beauty. Saga of the Sky-House - Dr. Douglas' adaptation of the Star Wars films into an Amatànnaq cultural context, with commentary. (Transcription currently on hold due to potential violation of Foundation-Coalition treaty.) How The Law was Made - The account of the war with the ancients and how it was resolved in the creation of the Uganugurrit. How Choma went to the Moon and brought back Lòx, and how she fought the Bloody-Cunt Demon - Myth-cycle told in full over five nights, and more commonly as an abbreviated single-night performance. 4. Expedition 40/7 Inquest Documentation Excerpts from Dr. Douglas's after-action inquest interviews have been provided at Dr. Douglas' request. Personnel Recovery Interview Log Part 1 Interview Log Part 2 Interview Log Part 3 (Follow-Up Statement) Interview Log Part 4 The following call was made by Dr. Douglas to Foundation Field Dispatch Office 154 at 11:04 AM PST, 27/OCT/2018. It is the first contact with the Expedition 40/7 research team since its departure. Dispatch: Spicy Crust Pizzeria. Douglas: Uh, yeah, I'd like to place an order for delivery. Dispatch: Roger that, what's your order? Douglas: Half sausage and mushroom, half buffalo chicken. Medium, please. And an order of five-alarm wings. 12 piece. Dispatch: That's medium half sausage and mushroom, half buffalo chicken with a 12 piece wings with five-alarm sauce, correct? Douglas: That's correct. Dispatch: Do you have a rewards card with us? Douglas: Uh, yeah, hold on…card number is 553-404-826. Dispatch: Address for delivery? Douglas: Uh….███ █████████ ███████. Dispatch: Roger that, will be about fifteen, twenty minutes. Dr. Douglas was retrieved at the pick-up point at 11:33 AM and delivered to the Site-46 infirmary, where he was treated for exhaustion, acute malnutrition, and dehydration. Date: 09.NOV.2018 Interview Subject: Dr. Dominic Douglas Interviewer: Riyan Banerjee Banerjee: Hey Dom, great to see you! Love the beard. Douglas: Thanks. They're big fashion in the House, so I figured I might as well let it grow out. Banerjee: Looks great on you. Help yourself to the donuts, by the way. Douglas: Can't, sorry. Too much sugar, makes me sick to my stomach anymore. Banerjee: Ah, fair enough. I'll just put them in the break room when we're done. [Banerjee pushes the box off to the side.] Banerjee: How's it feel to be back? Now that you're out of infirmary. Douglas: The first thing I saw after walking five hundred miles and sleeping for eighteen hours was an ad for car insurance. I visited the house of the gods and came back to a commercial for fucking State Farm. Banerjee: They do get annoying, don't they? In any case, we can start whenever you're ready. Douglas: I didn't kill them. Banerjee: No one's accusing you of that, Dom. We just want to know what happened. [Douglas sighs.] Douglas: Right, right…I've barely been back for two weeks and this place already makes me want to jump out of my skin and sprint out into the hills. How did I ever live like this? Being afraid of the worst thing happening every second of every day? How do any of us live like this? Banerjee: We can start when you're ready. Douglas: Have you ever seen a recall trance in person? Banerjee: I haven't, but I have seen and heard recordings of them. Douglas: Just checking. It freaks some people out. You have the key phrases ready? Banerjee: I have them right here. Douglas: All right. [Douglas closes his eyes and begins a series of pre-recall breathing exercises] Douglas: Ready. Banerjee: Recall trigger CORAL OVERTURE SIGNATORY [Douglas spasms suddenly, and then relaxes. His eyes remain closed.] It's early September. The summer has been hotter than usual, and the rains are still weeks away. The elephants haven't come yet. I hear the alarm bell in the distance. A steady hammer beat - dong dong dong dong dong dong dong dong. A cry goes up and is carried through the streets. Warband at the Stone Gate, Warband at the Stone Gate! Allison sees me through the crowd and pushes through. She's panting, must have sprinted here. Kerr: Where's Malakai? Douglas: I thought he was helping fix that one house down by the river. Kerr: Shit. Okay. We'll find him on the way. We head south through the River Quarter. A half-dozen members of the War Society jog past us with spears and clubs. No one seems to know where to go or what to do. We find Malakai as he's wandering through River, looking for us. The Stone Gate opens onto a wide, flat grassy area before it hits the trees. The sun is beating down, we're sweating like pigs. A crowd has gathered around the gate, so we end up climbing on top of a building to get a better view. Two ranks of soldiers, maybe fifty total. Metal armor, metal spearheads, metal shields. Helmets with red horsehair plumes. A crimson banner displaying an icon of a seven-barbed wheel with the points facing inward. One of them has ridden out his horse - no, not a horse, it has horns. An okapi? - and is standing under a green flag with some white symbol on it, midway between the soldiers and the gate. He has an aide holding an umbrella for him. Kerr: Fuck! Shit fuck damn piss cunt! Douglas: What's wrong, who are they? Kerr: Dhamaughr. Tamahori: What? Douglas: Daevites. Tamahori: Shit. Ama Xakana and Apu Ngondiya are down there now, with the other clan parents and tsalego, and some members of the War Society. They're speaking with the Dhamaughr emmissary, but they're much too far away for us to make out anything. Tamahori: How fucked are we? Kerr: They're not the main army. That second emblem on the main banner, the four-winged bird, that's for a light exploratory division. They're here to plant a flag, put it on a map, and clear the road for the tax man and the new governor. We all know what comes afterward. Douglas: Could we beat them? Kerr: Let's say they have three hundred forty-three troops, a full compliment. About a third of them will be light cavalry, the rest infantry. Going by the armor style, they're late Imperial, which means that there should be one arquebus per seven soldiers, and one thaumaturge for every forty-nine..For a full overview of Dhamaughr numeraology, please see Dominion of the Seven Powers of Heaven (Bogart, Valerie, 2012). The auxillaries are wildcards, there's no telling what sort of monsters they have on leashes back at the main camp. They won't have artillery, but they might have explosives. Kerr: Between the War Society, the Hunting Lodge and volunteers, we could match them for numbers. We know the environment. But they have us beat in everything else: discipline, experience, equipment, and willingness to kill. Allison trails off, rubs her eyes with one hand. Kerr: It'll be a massacre. Tamahori: We could run, go hide in the forest. Kerr: I'm certain they're already fanning out to pin us inside the House. Down in the field, the negotiations split up. The parties return to their respective sides. Douglas: Looks like they're done talking. We climb down from the house, push our way through the crowd. Ama Xakana is calling for a meeting at the Great House, a war council. We aren't able to get to any of the people who had spoken to the emissary. The Great House is filled to the beams. Every available space is filled with someone, and sometimes two. Worried whispers cascade through the crowd. Ama Xakana takes the floor, pounds her staff of office on the floorboards like a drum. Xakana: The party at the Stone Gate represent the King of the Black Crown. Their war-captain has come to us with an offer: that empty buildings within the House are granted to his warriors, who will station themselves here. He offers protection from the enemies of the King, in exchange for yearly gifts of tribute. He has given us until noon tomorrow to return with an answer. Worry turns to outrage. Nothing sensible can be made out of the shouting. She pounds her staff again, calls for silence with the iron firmness of a woman who has raised five children. Xakana: He has given us his offer, and I am certain that he does not make it in friendship. If you have counsel, now is the time. One by one, speakers are called to the floor. There are calls for restraint, calls for further negotiations, calls to refuse and do nothing, calls to flee into the forest, calls to stand and fight. Time seems to stop in the sweltering press of bodies. Eventually Allison is able to get down to the floor. Kerr: Those men outside the Stone Gate, they are known in my homeland and my people have fought against them before. Know this: if you fight, they will kill you. If you agree to their demands, they will send more warriors. They will demand more tribute. They will bring their laws with them, and under their laws they will punish you. They will cut off hands for a crust of bread, they will tear out tongues for speaking as your ancestors spoke, they will gouge out eyes for daring to look those who claim to be your masters in their face. They will ban you from your sacred places, and then they will tear them down. They will trample your gardens into the dirt and sow poison in the soil. They will take your children away and teach them to hate you. They will find those who resist, and they will break them as example to others. And they will never be done. They will put their foot upon your neck and press until you are dead, or until you learn to love your enslavement. Even Ama Xakana has trouble quieting the crowd after that. Allison stays there and answers questions and is called up three more times after that. Hours pass, though it doesn't feel like it. Several people collapse from the heat and have to be carried out into fresh air. The council goes in fearful circles, hoping to find some hole in Allison's story, some possible way out. There is none. Some of the clan parents and a few tsalegos try to talk her down, claiming that it could not be as bad as she described, that no human being could do such things. She does not budge. The necessity of fighting becomes apparent and then inescapable. Volunteers step forward. Message-birds are sent out in every direction, hoping to find any allies who might reach the House in time. By moonrise, we have gathered maybe a hundred and fifty people to fight. Noteworthy among them: Lady Yasuke. Chòndu'ang. Mashu of Dandelion and Gibo of Red Deer, both of the War Society. Kyatang of the Hunters Lodge. They pick their companions from the volunteers. The moon rises. There's a commotion at the doors. A shushèngo enters, wearing the chitin armor grown by his people. A chaameya missing half her left ear follows him. He speaks enough Icheya to share his story; he is Rth, his companion is Ssathassha. Monster hunters by trade, who had been approaching the House to rest and resupply when a message bird found them. They say that the enemy has placed soldiers on the roads around the House and has even crossed the river to close off the east, though their net is not impenetrable. Escape might still be possible for the swift and the clever. The night goes on. We catch a few hours of sleep. The people of the House prepare. NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION It is at this point that Dr. Douglas' account becomes increasingly difficult to transcribe, as memetic recall conditioning does not efficiently function under long-term high-stress situations. Dr. Douglas begins to bleed between recall trance and conscious commentary, loses track of the chronology of events, misattributes speakers in dialogue, and reverts to undilineated stream-of-consciousness from multiple viewpoints. As this section of the interview was unusable for documentation purposes, the recall session was ended and a follow-up statement was taken without recall trance on 10.NOV.2018 All right. I gave it some thought and I'm just going to tell you a story. Some parts of it might not be real, but they are true. The House's warriors ambushed the Dhamaughr camp just before dawn, near the end of the last watch of the night. They did not seek to kill all of the enemy, or even most. It was enough to kill their captain. He challenged Lady Yasuke, she cut him pieces. The warriors killed as many of the horned horses as they could, and as they ran from the camp they set the tents and the supplies on fire and then the forest. The Amatànnaq practice controlled burns according to the Uganugurrit, and the southern forest had already been growing overdue. The tsalego of the Charcoal Society led the fire-making, and the Dhaumaghr stumbled coughing and wheezing out of the ruins to be cut down with flint axe and arrow. As the smoke rose and dawn broke blood red, the Dhamaughr camps along the roads realized what had happened, and in revenge rushed into the House. This had been hoped for, for the enemy grew lost in its narrow streets and blind corners. The people ran from roof to roof, raining rocks down from above. But the enemy was clever; the made turtles out of their shields and marched forth up the hill. Their sorcerers sent up signals like falling stars to communicate with each other, and they gathered together. When they found people of the House, they killed them, and they spared no one. For a time the people of the House were able to halt their advance. It was clear that they meant to seize the Great House and raze the sacred grove and cave, and in doing so subjugate the spirit of the House. but the people held them back for a time. But then there were lights in the distance Signal flares. Reinforcements. This band of Dhamaughr was not alone; they had merely been riding ahead of the main column. From the height of the hill the defenders watched six stars rise in the ashen air. The call of war-horns was heard over the burning forest. After them, the cannons. If there had been any time to flee, the time was past. The cannons battered the House, leveled its buildings. Then came their soldiers. And behind the soldiers, great grey shapes for which I have no names, pacing through the forest like a wolf beyond the firelight. The War Society fought the enemy at every street, Mashu and Gibo at their head. Lady Yasuke was there like the image of death. Chòndu'ang threw himself into their number, crying out haaaaaaaaa-gûnda! Kyatang and her hunters. But the line was broken. Mashu was killed. Kyatang wounded. Chòndu'ang they could not kill, but they maimed him so that he could no longer grip his war club, and they broke his great weapon, shattering its obsidian teeth. Allison was with me. We did not know where Malakai was. He was likely dead by this time. We ran. I could not tell you where we were. The sky looked as it was bleeding; the sun was veiled in smoke, and the moon had gone dark. The three leviathans in the forest had entered the House mere streets away, and we could see them clearly. One, with the scarred carapace and spear-tip limbs of some enormous crustacean. The second, a pale and boneless thing that burned with sorcerous workings. The third, vast and grey, with a wedge shaped head, that pulled itself forward by growing new legs and absorbing them again into its body. In the distance I could hear a noise like thunder, steady like a heartbeat. Dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm dûm It grew closer, louder, closer, louder. Near us, behind us perhaps, there was a roar as if from the depths of the earth itself. "What is that, what the fuck is that?" Allison's voice was ragged from smoke. She leaned on me heavily, blood-soaked from her injuries. Something leapt from outside our vision at the first leviathan and struck it. Bone snapped as the crash of lightning. I knew who it was. The words came to me unbidden, though I knew they were true. “When the brown one hears the cry of her child, the hunter dies.” The great beast burst into gore, as if a waterskin had popped. The air rippled and ground shook. Ama Kubeya screamed wordless challenge to the Dhamaughr and their pets, and then she was in their midst. We watched as she slaughtered them without weapon, without armor. We watched as she rent armor, as she shattered bone, as she crushed skulls. Their spears could not slow her. Their swords could not stop her. Their shields could not turn her aside. Fire like a crown was on her head, and blood was in her teeth. The pale leviathan fell against her. She launched herself at the third leviathan, tackled it to the ground and tore at its throat with her teeth. It struggled against her, and with a howl of fury she drove her fist into it - again and again and again, each fistfall shaking the very earth, cracking its very bedrock. The leviathan tried to reform itself, to knit its bones and sinew anew, but it could not heal faster than she could strike it down. It thrased against her, struck her with claw and tooth, and it did nothing. Each time its head reformed, she smashed its skull with a single blow. When its throat returned, she ripped it out. Each blow of her fist could break empires. She planted her feet against the shattered, ashen earth, and with a final effort ripped off its head. I do not know when Allison slumped against me and died. I know only this last thing I saw: gore-clad Ama Kubeya standing triumphant atop the corpse of that beast of the deeps, howling at the blackened moon. In the days after the battle, as we buried the dead and comforted the living, Ama Xakana pulled me aside and said "You had asked me before what message you should bring back to your people. There is one more thing I want you to do." I followed her up the hill, past the Great House and along the dirt path that led to the summit. We passed under the two enormous trees that formed the gate to the grove. Sinking into their roots were two stone statues older perhaps than anything else in the House; a man with a snake coiled around his shoulders and a woman holding the moon in her hand. Beyond them, in the gloom of the tree cover rose the stone outropping and its yawning cave. "When you leave us, tell your people what you have seen. Do not let them forget," she said as she pressed the lamp into my hand. "Do not let them forget." I asked her what was in the cave, and why she had brought me here. "Do not let them forget," she said again, and she turned back towards the Great House. Most Amatànnaq visit the cave once or twice in their lives, but only ever the first two chambers. Anything beyond that is reserved for the tsalego, their apprentices, and those they grant permission to. I removed my sandals and stepped into the cave. There's a path on the floor where generations of feet have worn down the stone, patches on the walls where tens of thousands of hands have smoothed them. The art on the walls gets older the further down you go. The upper chambers are kept clean, and the art on the walls is repainted every few generations or so, changing with the slowness of seasons. The lower chambers are time capsules, growing older and more abstract as I went further down into the dark. I counted twelve chambers. The walls of the last was filled with handprints. Just handprints. Ochre silouettes crying out "I was here, I was here". Men and women of ages so far gone, reaching out through the veil of death. I was here, I was here, I was here… The chamber after that had nothing. The darkness swallowed me and my little lamp. I couldn't see the walls or the ceiling, just a few feet of stone around my feet. I walked forward, until I heard a sound. Someone moving, someone breathing, so very faint. I went towards the sound, and found a woman sitting there in the darkness, hunched over, with her back turned to me. Not one of the eshannu. Older. An austrolopithecine. She was holding a child to her chest, rocking it gently and…and he was dead. A few weeks old, no more than that. Limp in her arms. Not breathing, not moving…she rocked him back and forth as if he were only sleeping. As if he might open his eyes at any moment. She didn't notice me at all. I don't know if she could. I don't think she could. I sat down near her, and I waited until my lamp went out. When it had, I felt my way back by touch alone. The stars were out when I reached the surface. I returned to the House, packed my supplies, and left as the sun was rising. [Douglas flexes his fingers and exhales.] And then I came back. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. That's the thing about a pilgrimage, right? You go, and you have to come back. I know what Ama Xakana wanted me to say, though I don't know how. This will have to be good enough. The kingdom of god is in man. I know that’s a loaded phrase, just…bear with me. The kingdom of god is in man. The Tao is in piss and shit. That dream, whatever you want to call it, has been with us ever since the beginning but it's not just out there, at the end of the Road. We carry it with us. The dream, the House, the gods, all of it. We might have forgotten, might have cut away our memories and tried our damnedest to act as if we aren't human, as if the humanity of our ancestors is some primitive and outmoded thing to be suppressed and replaced all in the name of the cutting edge of the blade of progress. Remember how the Administrator opened his statement? "Mankind in its present state has been around for a quarter of a million years, yet only a small fraction of that has been of any significance." What a disgusting thing to say. To throw away all those thousands of generations as deficient because they did not live up to the standards of what? Written language? Ironmaking? Radio? Mechanized warfare? Did he think that we are significant simply because we have our thumbs against the trigger that can destroy the world? Because we have rendered the Uganugurrit null and void and murdered a planet simply because we could? I couldn't get through the Dark Tower, but Steve had it right about one thing: We cannot forget the face of our father and mother without losing ourselves. We have forgotten, but forgetting something does not mean that it ceases to be. The House still stands, one foot in the dream. Our gods still live in the land east of east and west of west, at the end of a long, long Road. There is a place for us. I was there. My feet were caked with its dust and my hands were callused from the work. I swam in its river and slept in its shade. And yet… the kingdom of god is in man. Not in some heaven far away - the gods above and below are not our gods, and their ways are not for us. The first of our gods was born of grief and love, and that is our mantle. That is our legacy. The gods above and below are powerful, and that's it. They have power. They are power. Indescribable, unimaginable power. They cannot think. They cannot change. They cannot feel grief, they cannot feel love. They simply are. We can't live like that. Go too far down the path and we become the Dhamaughr by a different name. Servants to the god of power, extinguishing our own souls in its name. We cannot afford to forget. This is what I came back to say. The House of All Our Gods is within us; we just need to bring it about. It needs to be built. Sustained. Brick by brick and day by day until that time when all is made well and we will walk beside our gods once more. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8225" by Djoric, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8225. 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: pinkpepperart01 Author: PinkPepper License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8225/pinkpepperart01.jpg Filename: pinkpepperart02 Author: PinkPepper License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8225/pinkpepperart02.jpg |
SCP-8227 | thaumiel | {$caption} 1/8227 LEVEL 1/8227 CLASSIFIED Item #: SCP-8227 thaumiel SCP-8227 immediately after use Special Containment Procedures: By mutual agreement, the Manna Charitable Foundation is to receive custody of SCP-8227 for six months of every year (January 1 - June 31, with handoff to occur at an MCF front-office during the final business day of the term.) To prevent breaching of the Veil, the MCF is contractually required to present SCP-8227-1 to participants as the consciously mock-ceremonial culmination of a research-tested course of therapy. To ensure cover-story plausibility, the “course of therapy” may not be completed in fewer than three days. While in SCP Foundation custody, SCP-8227 is to rotate between sites as necessary, with every accessible SCP site with permanent dedicated staff gaining custody of SCP-8227 for at least one day every five years. Though SCP sites without natural bodies of water nearby, such as sites located within the Taklamakan or Sahara Deserts, are necessarily excluded from this rotation, staff members assigned to these sites have the right to demand a fully-paid trip to another site once every five years to participate in the SCP-8227-1 ritual, without using PTO. Site-rotation scheduling, as well as external relations with the Manna Charitable Foundation for SCP-8227-related purposes, are to be led by Dr. Eulaylia Tsiolis, based out of Site-19. The Foundation considers testing and research of the effects of SCP-8227 to have been satisfactorily completed; however, one junior researcher is to be tasked, at 5% dedication, with brainstorming potentially productive avenues for future research and discussing them, if any, with Dr. Tsiolis once every two years. Currently, the junior researcher with part-time assignment to SCP-8227 is Dr. Yuriko Harada, based out of Site-48. Description: SCP-8227 is a non-deific source of absolution. Through performance of the SCP-8227-1 ritual, SCP-8227 is capable of purging all sin and ensuring redemption. While SCP-8227 does not retroactively undo sinful acts, it removes any accreted sin from the soul of the participant linked to the past commission of sinful acts, and simultaneously induces a sincere desire to repent for them. SCP-8227 is formed from the halved left leg bone of an unidentified mid-sized mammal, and is similar in structure to an oil lamp. A small depression approximately one inch in diameter is carved into the far edge. On the left side of the depression, a small hole has been drilled into the hollow interior of the bone, which has been drained of marrow and carved into a crude flute. On either side of the depression, several horizontal lines have been etched into the surface of the bone, as though meant to depict fins or wings. SCP-8227 is aesthetically consistent with Late Dorset sculpted objects, although it was discovered approximately 1500 kilometers from the southernmost region ever known to have been inhabited by the Dorset people. The SCP-8227-1 ritual can be enacted, using the following steps, beside any natural body of water greater than ~500 square meters. SCP-8227 should be positioned not less than three feet from the edge of the water, with the flute pointing toward the water. A bucket or other container should be filled from the body of water and slowly poured into the depression, so that the water comes out from the flute, forming a thin stream. Ritual participants should touch their fingers to the stream as it issues from the flute, and kiss them. When the first drops of the stream emanating from the flute reach the water, all participants will be redeemed.1 Discovery: On January 18, 2021, an in-house psychiatrist at Site-19 reported that several of her patients had reported dreaming the previous night of an empty shore with several islands off its coast. A survey of Site-19 Foundation staff was subsequently conducted; on the survey, 428 people indicated that they had a similar dream on the night of January 17. Over 95% of those who reported having the dream indicated that, upon waking up, they felt calm and rested. After a series of follow-up interviews, primarily about the shape of the coast, the vegetation found upon it, and the layout of the islands, the shore in the dream was identified as the eastern side of Basket Island in Yarmouth, Maine. SCP-8227 was found among the rocks on the eastern shore by an MTF team on January 19, 2021. As of July 15, 2024, it has granted absolution to approximately 68,000 people. Addendum 1: Over the duration of SCP-8227's utilization, all transcripts from biannual meetings are to be appended below. To date, one such meeting has occurred; a transcript is attached. Transcript of Interview (August 3, 2023) HARADA: Pleasure to meet you. Yuriko Harada. TSIOLIS (smiling): Yeah. I know you. You’re the one who looks gift horses in the mouth. HARADA: That's me, all right. TSIOLIS: So how much of a box-checking is this going to be? HARADA: You know, I assumed this would be pretty cursory, but on the flight over, I sort of—I realized that there’s a lot of questions that I don’t have answers to. TSIOLIS: Such as? HARADA: How do we know this ritual, anyway? And who implanted the dream? Forgive me for saying so, but how sure are we that this is non-deific? TSIOLIS: Occam’s Razor, right? Dream implantation is a pretty straightforward secondary effect of numerous non-deific, even non-conscious anomalies. HARADA: The fact that it only hit Foundation people is weird, though. TSIOLIS: Sure, but it wouldn’t be weird if it hit everyone within a certain geographic radius. It wasn’t selecting for employment. It just hit everyone within a short distance from an epicenter that, fortunately for us, happened to be within a Foundation installation. We also don’t even know if it was that specific. Millions of civilians might have had the dream and never realized that it was a shared experience. Frankly, the Foundation will never know who dreamed what on January 17. HARADA: Okay. I see where you’re coming from, and I know what you’re going to say about the ritual: dropping ritual knowledge might have been a minor secondary effect, worth documenting if confirmed, but not something that fundamentally changes our understanding of an anomaly that we already know reorders people’s minds. But let’s talk about how it appeared, right? This did not apparate in 2021. At some point—long ago, based on the art style—this was carved. We’re not the first hands to hold this. Somebody left this for us to find, and, by all appearances, waited a long time to do so. TSIOLIS: Why would it make it, carve it, and then wait for eons? HARADA: I don’t know. That’s why I’m wondering if we should track it down and ask it. TSIOLIS: We have a different theory at -19. Dream insertion is very obviously nowhere near as impressive as making this would be. Neither is carving this; anyone can carve. I mean, I can’t, but you get my point. We don’t think it’s one person at all. HARADA: Explain. TSIOLIS: Imagine if this thing was older than time. An age such that tracing its origin is pointless. HARADA: Can’t we date it? TSIOLIS: The bone, sure, but not its current form. You’ve heard that that bone is about 300,000 years old, right? HARADA: That wasn't in the information shared. So no, I hadn't heard that. TSIOLIS: Now you have. So then it got found by a society that discovered its anomalous properties. They made the lamp, carved the lamp. Then it was lost to the ages, and now something found it again and decided to give it to us. HARADA: So three beings, separated across time. The gifter, the carver, the creator. TSIOLIS: Or the gifter, the carver, the owner of the bone. The bone itself might have been fashioned into its current form by the carver. The anomalous nature of the bone might flow from the anomalous nature of the being that it came from. HARADA: That would still feel deific. The lamb of God. Neanderthal-Christ. TSIOLIS: We can’t call something deific just because it seems like there should be a god involved. That’s cargo-cult behavior. Why not a god behind SCP-173? Why not a god behind… I suppose, if sin is a thing that we can commodify and do away with, what separates this from any physical anomaly? If we’re comfortable with inexplicable physical reactions and inexplicable mental effects being nondeific, why not an inexplicable reaction that changes the ledger of sin? HARADA: Because sin is an attribute that exclusively attaches to discrete living beings. That’s meaningfully distinct from "oh, this affects living brains." You have to have a whole ontology. A way of saying, ah, these Siamese twins are two individuals. This person, cloven in two and not quite dead, is one. How do you not see a conscious being at work there? And if there is, how sure are we that it’s a being we want to work with? TSIOLIS: First of all, it is completely possible that it was a nondeific anomaly of raw, undirected power, harnessed by some long-dead sculptor for the purpose of erasing sin. Second of all, our blindness of the dimension of sin is nearly total. We don’t know how the mechanism works in nearly enough detail to start in with the thought experiments. Thirdly, even if you’re right, we’re still going to use it. We’ve got a lot of work that needs doing. No sense letting paranoia take away our toolkit. HARADA: I don’t appreciate being called a paranoiac. TSIOLIS: If you don’t mind my asking, when were you last redeemed? HARADA: Never, actually. TSIOLIS: Would you like to? It’s on site. Get some hands-on exposure to the anomaly. HARADA: I think I’m all right. But that brings me to my last couple points. These are reasonable questions, right? TSIOLIS: I think I’ve made clear that we here consider ourselves to be under vastly less risk from SCP-8227 than you suggest. HARADA: I didn’t ask if you thought I was wrong. I asked if you thought I was unreasonable. TSIOLIS: Well, no. I’m certainly not in the business of calling my colleagues unreasonable. I hope that you’re not taking any of this personally. HARADA: And you’ve had several dozen people attached to the SCP-8227 project at some point, right? TSIOLIS: Sure. Implementing the ritual, overseeing the Manna partnership, figuring out site rotations. It’s a big job. HARADA: I’m sure it is. But with so much unanswered, and so many people in the room… do you see where I’m going with this? TSIOLIS: Can’t say I do. HARADA: It doesn’t strike you as strange that literally nobody appears to have asked these questions before? TSIOLIS: Can't say it does. HARADA: That nobody’s ever wanted to know where this thing came from? What’s fueling it? TSIOLIS: There are some tests from the first few days post-discovery. HARADA: I’ve seen them. And the tests die out right after SCP-8227 begins being utilized. TSIOLIS: You have the causality backwards. More likely, the utilization didn’t begin until all anticipated testing had ended. HARADA: Normally, testing lasts longer than two to three days. All I see is the team doing the ritual, maybe as a lark, and then abruptly, almost instantly, declaring an end to testing and a mass increase in SCP-8227 utilization. Not only that, but the outreach to Manna begins immediately, right? Which is rare for us. Unusually public. And you could not design a better way to expose as many people to SCP-8227 as possible. TSIOLIS: It’s a simple object. A few days of testing might be all they had planned. Also, if you’re going to let Manna use it, and I stand by our partnership, then Manna’s going to try its damnedest to maximize public exposure. That doesn’t prove anything. In any case, why would there be a mind-affecting impact? What illicit gain would anyone possibly reap from us using this thing the way that we’ve been using it? HARADA: I don’t know. But I know that these are questions that should already have been asked. TSIOLIS: Were these questions precleared with your superiors? HARADA: That wouldn’t be typical. TSIOLIS: You should run them by them. I’m sure they’ll say there’s nothing to worry about. HARADA: Maybe. But they—they’ve used it. TSIOLIS: Okay. (Tsiolis smiles, as though about to laugh.) TSIOLIS: I’ve got a meeting to set out to. Good afternoon, Dr. Harada. HARADA: Good afternoon. TSIOLIS: And hey, if you change your mind… it’s always there. It’s waiting for you. Addendum 2: On March 8, 2024, Site-308 Task Force Omega-1442 member ██ ███ passed away from natural causes. Due to the isolated nature of Site-308 and the technical fact that the members of the task force it houses are not officially classed as “permanent dedicated staff,” Site-308 had been excluded from prior SCP-8227 rotations, and ██ ███ had never participated in the SCP-8227-1 ritual. Approximately 72 hours later on March 11, a failsafe designed to provide emergency egress from the capsule housed within SCP-1844 was tripped externally, leading to the breach of the SCP-1844 capsule, the death of the five members of Omega-144 within it, and the subsequent surfacing of multiple demonic entities. MTF units were scrambled and successfully stabilized the site until a secondary capsule could be deployed. A retrospective investigation of the March 11 incident concluded that the failsafe could only have been tripped externally by a group with knowledge of capsule security codes and Omega-144 internal passphrases. Prior to March 8, the only individuals thought to have access to this knowledge were the members of Omega-144 themselves. ██ ███ is believed to have been remanded to the SCP-1844 afterlife after his death due to unexpectedly high levels of sin, and to have subsequently revealed critical Foundation information to SCP-1844-dwelling demonic entities, almost certainly under duress. This information was instrumental in enabling the breach. To prevent the further acquisition of sensitive Foundation data by afterlife-dwelling factions antagonistic to our interests, participation in the SCP-8227-1 ritual every five years has been rendered mandatory for all Foundation employees as of March 14, 2024. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8227" by habaniah, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8227. 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: Strange object on the beach - geograph.org.uk - 3880959.jpg Name: Strange object on the beach Author: Pauline E License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Deed Source Link: https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/3880959 Footnotes 1. The instantaneous efficacy of the SCP-8227-1 ritual has been confirmed through live Kotevet measurement. 2. Task Force Omega-144 is responsible for containing SCP-1844, a hole leading directly to an afterlife similar in form to the Abrahamic Hell. Five members of Omega-144 at a time are enclosed within a capsule and lowered into SCP-1844, where they simultaneously enact rituals designed to reduce the incidence of emerging demonic entities. Omega-144 is based out of Site-308 and comprised entirely of clergymembers. |
SCP-8228 | safe | Wherein Bill goes on a wonderful adventure in order to save a hero. + 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; } Calibold SCP-8228 — Here's To You, Mrs. Robinson Calibold's Mega Cool Author Page Item#: SCP-8228 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: caution link to memo SCP-8228. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8228 is contained at Site-43. Human use of SCP-8228 is strictly forbidden. Description: SCP-8228 is a glass cake stand, six inches wide and four inches tall. On top of it are six chocolate cupcakes, collectively designated SCP-8228-1. Each SCP-8228-1 instance is topped with colored frosting in flowering shapes. SCP-8228-1 do not appear to decay, go stale, or otherwise deteriorate when left alone. Unless they are eaten, they will also repair themselves within a few seconds of taking any damage. Whenever an SCP-8228-1 instance is completely consumed by a living organism, any health issues or deformities it possessed will be completely alleviated; this includes injuries, infections, and adverse effects of aging, as well as most birth defects, such as missing limbs or undeveloped organs. Following this, a new cupcake will spontaneously appear to replace the old one. When the above biological effect takes place, the nearest organism of the same species as the affected individual will perish within a few minutes from heart failure. Addendum 8228.1: On 04/23/2017, a man named Bill Robinson attempted to infiltrate Site-43, apparently searching for SCP-8228. He was detained shortly after entering the facility and a thorough investigation was conducted into his background and motivations. PoI-19374 ("Bill Robinson") Aliases: Bill Robinson Status: CONTAINED Disturbance Level: 1 (Minimal) Threat Level: 1 (Minimal) Affiliation: Bumblebee Medical Technologies Anomalous Capabilities: None Overview: Bill Robinson is a 33-year-old human male of Brazilian descent, born to Rita and Daniel Robinson. He graduated Pennsylvania State University at the age of 22 and was able to secure an accounting position at Bumblebee Medical Technologies shortly thereafter. Bill Robinson has no known relationship with any anomalous entities, although he is notable for being the grandson of one Maria Robinson. Maria Robinson was born in 1921 and is known for her widespread social and political activism; she was one of 1,073 registered female pilots in WASP1 during World War II (and one of only six women of color), is credited with saving the lives of over 300 people in a runaway train incident in 1956, was a candidate for Philadelphia mayor in 1991, and won the Scrabble Players Championship in 1999. Aside from his relationship with Maria Robinson, Bill Robinson possesses no other noteworthy qualities. Additionally, a biomechanical entity nicknamed "Broom" was contained alongside Robinson. All footage from Investigation Report 8228.1, starting with 8228.1-4, was found in this entity's video memory. Investigation Report 8228.1-1: Bill Robinson was last seen on 04/15/2017, exiting his home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Two days prior to this, he entered the Martin Luther Nursing Home to visit his grandmother. The following audio was obtained from her Amazon Echo Dot. [EXTRANEOUS LOGS REMOVED] Robinson: …if you didn't always beat me. Maria: And I'll beat you again, Bill. [Laughs.] Pull out the board. [Robinson is heard shuffling about. A loud thud emanates, followed by more shuffling.] Maria: Did you go first last time? Robinson: You did, I think? Maria: So it's your turn now. [Brief pause.] Robinson: E-V-E-R. You been okay, grandma? They treating you well? Maria: Same as it always was. Every day reminded that Jesus loves me so that's why the folks in charge don't need to hear about my broken toilet. 'Course, he does, but Jesus was a carpenter, not a plumber, and I need one of these idiots to deal with that. W-R-E-T-C-H. Robinson: Bit of a bummer. M-A-T-C-H. Maria: Wasn't expecting much from them anyway. C-O-R-K. Robinson: Of course you have the K, I needed that. Um… I guess N-E-E-D. Maria: N-E-E-D-H-A-M. Robinson: That's not a word. Maria: It's a dessert from Maine! Everyone knows that! [Brief pause.] Robinson: Okay well, Maine doesn't count. Maria: Ah, like Vermont. Robinson: [Laughs.] Yeah, exactly. Maria: How about you? How's the big computer star? Robinson: It's, uh, it's going. You know. Ooh, W-I-S-E-N. Maria: Anything interesting? Robinson: I bothered corporate and they actually sent us a new printer, so that's cool I guess. Maria: That's my boy! M-A-S-S-I-V-E. I'll use a blank and that'll cross two double word tiles. That's… forty-eight more points for me? Hundred and one to thirty-seven. Robinson: No. What? No. You can't do that! Maria: Go look it up, maybe the word was invented in Maine! Robinson: Fine, fine. And I need to swap out four of these anyway, they're all O's. Maria: Anything else happen lately? Robinson: Not really. [Long pause.] Maria: Are you sure you're okay, Bill? Robinson: Yeah, just… yeah. F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Maria: You know, that was very kind of you, making sure that printer got in. [Coughs.] Robinson: You okay? Maria: Sorry, I'm fine. Robinson: Nothing compared to you, I guess. Maria: Nonsense! R-E-M-A-T-C-H. On a double word tile. Robinson: World champion ability, I guess. Maria: Bill, you are as kind and loving of a grandson as I could ever want. Robinson: Yeah but… I wish I could be adventurous, you know? Helping all sorts of people, living out a fantastical quest or something, I dunno. Maria: Bill, your worth is not decided by— [A loud bang is heard.] Maria: Oh, dear. Not again. Robinson: The stove? Do you need help? Maria: I've got it, I've got it. [Brief pause.] I got it back on. Robinson: They haven't fixed that either? Maria: At least it doesn't keep me up at night. But I called about it too. Robinson: No luck? Maria: I think they forgot we live here. Ben next door has the same problem, tried calling eight times before the caretaker yelled at him to leave her alone. The poor man is stuck in bed, what's he supposed to do about it? I let her have it, I'll tell you. [Yawns.] Robinson: We need more people like you. Maria: We have you, Bill. That's— [Coughs heavily.] Robinson: Grandma! [Footsteps.] Why don't you lie down. Maria: You don't want me to beat you again? Robinson: I'm serious. Maria: It's a bit late, I guess. You got here at eight, right? [Creaking noises.] Thank you, sweetie. Robinson: I'm worried about you, you sure you're not sick? Maria: I'm ninety-six, not dead. And I fully will make it to a hundred. Still— [Coughs.] —maybe I should rest so I can finish the race. Robinson: Good idea, I'll get some water for you. We'll finish the game another day, okay? Maria: Fine, fine. [Long silence.] Robinson: Anything else you need, grandma? Maria: No, but thank you, sweetheart. Robinson: Goodnight, grandma. Maria: Goodnight, Bill. Investigation Report 8228.1-2: Following the above incident, Robinson began researching methods of alleviating his grandmother's medical difficulties, although many of them are simply byproducts of old age. The next day, he discreetly conducted an unauthorized search into Bumblebee Medical Technologies' research projects, and managed to stumble across a transaction with Marshall, Carter & Dark2, which had been marked as an advanced medical technology investment into de-aging research. That same day, during his lunch break, he spoke with his supervisor, Arthur Arbuckle regarding MC&D. The below footage was captured from a security camera in Arbuckle's office. [Arbuckle is eating a sandwich while filling out some paperwork. There is a knock at the door.] Arbuckle: Come in! [Robinson enters the office.] Arbuckle: Hey Bill! Aren't you supposed to be on lunch right now? Robinson: I'll be going out in a little bit, I just, uh, wanted to ask you something. Arbuckle: Yeah, just one sec. [He signs a paper and puts it in a manila folder, which he sets aside.] Alright, what's up? Robinson: So you know about my grandma, right? Arbuckle: Did something happen, is she alright? Robinson: Oh no— I mean, yeah, she's okay. Okay as she can be, but yeah. Arbuckle: [Sighs.] You scared me for a sec, I thought she might've, you know— Robinson: Oh! [Chuckles nervously.] Oh, she's still alive, yeah. But she's not doing so great. Arbuckle: Right. Robinson: And like, I've been trying to find some resources for her, and today I was looking into some of our older files for the upcoming audit, and I came across this thing, do you know what Marshall, Carter & Dark is? It mentioned something about a medical investment and I just got curious. Arbuckle: Hmm… I don't think I've heard of them? Do you want me to look into it? Robinson: Yeah, if you're not busy. Arbuckle: That paper was actually my last little task before lunch, so you came at the right time. Let me run a search, hold on just a minute. Robinson: Yeah, no rush. [Arbuckle spends a few moments typing into his computer.] Arbuckle: Okay, looks like we have some records with them… seems like they're mainly an investment firm, from what I'm seeing, mostly top-level exchanges. Robinson: Hmm. Arbuckle: That being said, looks like there was something marked under "medical technology," let's see… [Arbuckle seems confused.] Weird. The details are locked, all I can see is that it was from Research. Robinson: Huh. Arbuckle: Yeah, you'd need a higher-up to unlock it, I can send a request but it might be a few weeks, Research is weird about these. Robinson: I guess I can wait. Arbuckle: Well, if you want I can give you the number and address for this company too, when's your next day off? Robinson: Tomorrow, actually. Arbuckle: Perfect, maybe give them a call or a visit, that address is for their office here. Robinson: Got it, thanks Arthur. Arbuckle: No problem, have a good lunch. And say hi to your grandma for me! Robinson: Will do. Investigation Report 8228.1-3: The next day, Robinson arrived at MC&D's Philadelphia office. The below security footage was purchased from MC&D. [Robinson walks up to the receptionist's desk.] Receptionist: What can I do for you, partner? Robinson: Hi there, I'm here to ask some questions about an item you had stocked recently? Sorry, I'm not sure about how all this works, I've never been here before. Receptionist: Don't worry about it, bud. Name? Robinson: Bill Robinson. Receptionist: And do you have a form? Robinson: Yeah, Arthur gave me one, let me just… [He pulls a folded paper out of his pocket and hands it to the receptionist.] Receptionist: Alright, I'll have someone out for you shortly. Might be a bit though, you mind waiting? Robinson: Yeah, thank you. [Robinson takes a seat in the lobby. After about twenty minutes, a woman in a suit walks in.] Woman: Robinson? Robinson: [Stands up.] Right here. [The woman walks over to Robinson and shakes his hand.] Woman: The name's Farleigh, I'll meet you over here. [Farleigh guides Robinson over to a side office. Farleigh sits behind the desk and opens her computer, while Robinson sits opposite her.] Robinson: So how big is this firm? Like, are Marshall, Carter, or Dark here? Farleigh: Where do you work? Robinson: I work for Bumblebee Med Tech, why? Farleigh: Would you be able to set me up with your CEO? Robinson: Oh, uh, no. That was a dumb question now that I think about it. Farleigh: [Laughs.] Not at all! We're not terribly big, though nobody here's met the big bosses in person. Now, the man up front said you were looking into this? [She shows the paper that Robinson gave to the receptionist.] Robinson: Yep. Farleigh: Let's see here. [She begins typing into her computer.] It's under medical… [Farleigh stops.] How much do you know about this item? Robinson: Not much, just that it has to do with de-aging? It was bought from my company and that's all it said in the cover page, the rest was locked though. Farleigh: Are you here representing your company? Robinson: Oh no, this is personal. Farleigh: I… see. Robinson: Is there a problem? Farleigh: Well, the original item was ordered by Miss Dark herself. This whole file is locked wholesale by her. [She looks up from her computer.] This is right from the top, you'll have to— hold on, let me put in a request form. [A few moments pass as Farleigh types into her computer before looking up.] Farleigh: I've sent in a report, but it might take a few days or even weeks to be approved. Robinson: Ugh, that's what my boss said too. Farleigh: I'm sorry, but— [She turns back to her computer and her eyes widen.] Wait, that's not— How— [She looks at Robinson.] I'll need you to come with me. Robinson: Huh? Why? Farleigh: Just follow me. [Farleigh leads Robinson down two flights of stairs and down a hallway. At the very end is a single door. She opens it and Robinson enters. Inside is an office with an old, mustached man behind the desk. The office is mostly barren, with only a phone and a small printer on the desk. Farleigh closes the door behind Robinson as he sits down.] Robinson: Hi. Uh… what's going on? [The man doesn't answer. Instead, the phone begins ringing. He holds out a hand towards it. After a moment, Robinson picks it up.] Robinson: Hello? Woman: Hello, Mr. Robinson. Robinson: Sorry, I didn't mean to cause all this trouble, I'm just— Woman: I know what you're here for, Mr. Robinson. Do you know who I am? Robinson: No. Woman: My name is Miss Dark. You've been looking into something of mine. How much do you know about it? Robinson: Well, like I told Miss Farleigh, all I know is that it's something to do with de-aging and it was made by Bumblebee Med research? [A few moments pass.] Dark: Tell me, how is your grandmother? [Robinson pales.] Robinson: How— how do you know about my grandma? Dark: I make it my business to know who I'm doing business with, Mr. Robinson. This is for her, isn't it? Robinson: [Clears throat.] Yeah. Yeah. Dark: She's a remarkable woman. Tell me, Mr. Robinson, what brought you to look in the places you did? Why not go to a doctor or another medical consultant? Why sneak around in your own company's — yes, I know how you got this information — your own company's files and then come to us? [Robinson stares at the man ahead of him, who does not react.] Robinson: I don't think they'd be able to help. This isn't just about her being sick, it's about her being old. I need a miracle, and I thought maybe some rich people or something might be looking into it. Dark: [Laughs.] You're a smart young man. Yes, everyone wants to live forever, but only the rich like ourselves might have any shot at it. Now tell me, if you do end up finding this treatment, why not use it on yourself? Robinson: I mean… it's probably a medication or a procedure, right? And it's really expensive, I assume. I'll probably only be able to afford to treat one person. Dark: But why her and not yourself? Robinson: I mean, she's old, and like, I don't need it, so— Dark: No. Robinson: Sorry? Dark: Tell me the truth, Mr. Robinson. [A minute passes.] Robinson: I think… I think it would be better for everyone if she were the one to have a second life, you know? She's done a lot and can do a lot more, and I'm… not really doing anything, so it won't be much good on me… Dark: And here you are, Mr. Robinson. Robinson: So what is it? How much will it cost me? Dark: I can help you find what you're looking for, but you must be aware that it may require accepting a world around you that you may not want to see. Do you understand, Mr. Robinson? Robinson: I don't… think so. But I also think I need this. Dark: Excellent. Are you listening? Robinson: Yeah. Dark: The methods used to create this treatment are not scientific in nature. Many large companies have dabbled in occult or other esoteric methods for their own gain. Ours is by far the deepest in this sphere, but everyone from Disney to Lockheed-Martin has at least some involvement here. The Esoteric Division of Bumblebee Medical Research produced this particular item, with funding from yours personally into its development. Robinson: Okay, but what is it? [The printer turns on. After a moment, it produces a picture of SCP-8228. The man hands it to Robinson.] Dark: Certain esoteric methods have unusual requirements, or are only able to fit in certain things. What you're looking for is a plate of cupcakes. When eaten, a cupcake restores a person to their youthful state, and heals any afflictions they may have. [Long pause.] Robinson: Is this— Dark: A joke? No, no it's not. Robinson: What are you even saying? That I have to feed my grandma magic cupcakes? What are you talking about? Dark: Yes. Robinson: This is— I'm sorry, just— What? This is a joke! Do you just not want me to— [The old man pulls out a gun and points it at Robinson while putting a finger to his lips.] Robinson: WHAT THE FUCK? Dark: Stop talking and stay seated. [Robinson is visibly panicked, but complies.] Dark: Now, listen here, young man. I'm a busy woman, and an old one too, so I would prefer not to sit here and hear your endless whining. Are you ready to listen? [Brief pause.] Robinson: Yeah. Yes. [The old man puts the gun away.] Dark: Good. I apologize for the show of force, but I take my job and my time very seriously, and I'd prefer for you not to insult the former and waste the latter. Now, this particular item was stolen from me by an upstart gang. While the item is important to me, I also need to consider the cost to benefit ratio to getting them back. So far, direct force has proven both costly and inefficient, and though I intended to eventually put more resources towards their retrieval, it seems I'm lucky enough to have come across… a volunteer. [Long pause.] Robinson: Me? Dark: You have your own reasons for trying to retrieve the item, no? The way I see it, you only need one of the cupcakes, and I will take the rest. In return for a lead to their location, I'll need you to give me the remainder of the goods, after you've used what you need. Robinson: But why do you need someone like me to do it? I mean, I guess you explained that, but how am I supposed to get them if you guys couldn't? It sounds like these guys are pretty dangerous, right? Dark: Not necessarily. An annoyance, certainly, especially for my company. And I have low expectations from you, but you have two distinct advantages. First, you are not associated with us. They won't immediately attack. And second, their behavior and methods are… I would say sentimental. They might — might — take pity on you. Robinson: I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm still confused by all this. Is this just some kind of technology and medicine that they decided to put in cupcakes for some reason? Dark: Mr. Robinson, you are free to believe whatever you want. But I'm telling you, right now, that this is far different from the basic science that already goes over your head. Robinson: It's just… I can't believe it. I can't. [Dark sighs.] Dark: You are driven by a deep-seated desire, one that has already taken you to desperate measures. If you're lucky, you'll be able to negotiate for one of the cupcakes and feed it to your grandmother. But I suspect that you'll inevitably find yourself stumbling into the wider world. [A paper is printed again. On it is a map and list of directions.] Dark: On that paper is a map. These thieves are largely ocean-based, but they regularly dock in New York Harbor. You can either take the map to them or leave it. [Long pause.] Dark: Now, Mr. Robinson, I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to deal with, and you've wasted my time long enough. Do take care, though. And remember, should you succeed, you will have a debt to us, one which I expect you to deliver on unless you want to suffer far more dire and immediately painful consequences than a dead relative. Good day. [The phone call disconnects. Robinson remains seated for several minutes. He stands up and exits, deliberately leaving the map behind.] [After a moment, Robinson opens the door, grabs the map, and leaves again.] Investigation Report 8228.1-4: The following day, Robinson notified his company that he would need time off, citing a medical emergency regarding his grandmother. That morning, he drove from Philadelphia to New York Harbor, following the directions provided by Dark. [Robinson arrives at the designated docks; there are relatively few boats around. He walks until he reaches a general cargo ship. The hull is dark blue, with the words "WEARY DOLPHIN" written on it. Robinson stands in front of the side ramp.] Robinson: Um… hello? [Silence.] Robinson: [Louder.] Hello? [The silence continues. Robinson's head dips slightly.] Robinson: Hello— full of shit lady, that's what you are. [Robinson leans against the railing and groans. He pulls out the map and crumples it up before tossing it into the water.] Unknown: Yo man, cut that out. Robinson: Sorry. [He looks around.] Uh, who said that? Unknown: Down here. [Robinson looks towards his feet and screams. Standing in front of him is a pigeon with white feathers, though its head has been replaced with a security camera.3] Robinson: Jesus Christ! Unknown: What? What's the big idea? [Robinson takes a few deep breaths, then looks warily at the creature.] Robinson: What are you? Unknown: I'm a pigeon. Coo. Coo. What are you? Robinson: I'm, uh, I'm a human. I'm Bill. Unknown: Hi Bill, I'm Broom. Robinson: Hi Broom. [Long pause.] Broom: Whatcha doing here? Robinson: I was— I was told to talk to the people on this boat. I need to… to get some cupcakes. Broom: Oh hey, I work on this ship actually. Everyone's probably below deck. You wanna come aboard? Robinson: Oh! Sure? Sure! Broom: Come on, then! [Robinson and Broom begin walking up the ramp.] Robinson: Looks like rain. Broom: Yep. [Once they arrive aboard the ship, they both stop briefly.] Robinson: Sorry, this is all a bit new to me. Broom: Never been on a ship before? Robinson: No, I mean… Like, I came here for some magic food that makes people young, and I didn't actually believe it, but now I'm looking at you and… is it actually real? Broom: I dunno. Also what do I have to do with this? Robinson: Well it's just, you know, your um… Broom: My appearance? Robinson: Yeah. Broom: Albinism, makes me look like a dove more than anything. Robinson: What? No, I mean… your head! The camera! Broom: What are you talking about? Robinson: Do you— Do you not—? [The ship lurches forward. Robinson turns to see that the side ramp has already retracted.] Robinson: Wait! Wait wait wait! Broom: Uh oh. Robinson: I'm not trying to stow away, Broom! Can you tell them to stop? Broom: What? No! You're not supposed to be here anyway! Robinson: But you brought me on board! Broom: I'm not allowed to do that! Robinson: What? Broom, what— [A dart sprouts from Robinson's neck and he collapses to the ground. Another dart pierces Broom, who likewise passes out.] [Robinson awakens, tied to a chair at a table. The only light source is a dim bulb in the ceiling, revealing another chair on the opposite side of the table and a metal door at the opposite side of the room. In the corner next to him sits Broom, who has also been tied up.] Robinson: [Groans.] What's… what? Where am I? Hello? Broom: Hi. [Robinson turns his head towards Broom.] Robinson: You! When I— [The door opens and several people walk in. All of them are dressed in various outfits for different water activities, such as sailor uniforms, swimsuits, and scuba gear. Most of them are chatting among themselves as they enter.] Man: Hey! Move it, I don't need a crowd! [A man pushes through the people to stand in front of them. He has dark skin, a heavy beard, and is wearing an indigo wetsuit with black accents. Over it is a heavy trench coat, and on his head he wears a tricorn hat.] Man: Quiet down, everyone! [The talking stops.] Man: I know you're all excited, but if you're going to be here I need you quiet, understand? [The other people murmur in affirmation.] Man: Now… [He sits and places a wallet on the table.] Mr. Robinson. Robinson: Hey, listen, this is all just a misunderstanding, I wasn't trying to stow away, the boat left while I was on board and I just wanted to talk and— Man: Okay, okay, settle down, we're not gonna hurt you. As for you! [He turns to Broom.] Broom: Hey boss. Man: I'll deal with you later. Now, Mr. Robinson— Can I call you Bill? Robinson: Uh, sure. Man: Good. Listen Bill. Broom here has a bad habit of bringing folks aboard for the hell of it. So I'd assume you just got roped in, except you just told me that you meant to come aboard anyway. Now, I want you to tell me exactly why you're here. Robinson: Okay, so I've been trying to find some cupcakes for my grandma that apparently can make people young again. I got told you guys have them so I just wanted to ask you, but then I got stuck here. [Brief pause.] Man: I believe you. Robinson: You do? Man: I know when people are lying, I taught high school for twelve years. Plus, you wouldn't have given yourself away so easily if you were a pro spy. Amir, untie him. [An old Middle Eastern man walks over and begins untying Robinson.] Man: The name's Dylan, by the way. Robinson: Oh, hi Dylan. [Robinson stands up. Dylan holds out his hand, and Robinson tentatively shakes it.] Dylan: Alright you lot, nothing to see here, get a move on. [Dylan and Robinson begin walking out the door.] Broom: What about me? [Dylan turns around and sighs.] Dylan: What did I tell you, Broom? Broom: That you'd deal with me later? Dylan: I told you to stop bringing random folks aboard. It's dangerous. Broom: Oh right. Sorry, boss. [Dylan walks over to Broom and unties him. Broom flies over to Robinson and perches on his shoulder.] Dylan: Sorry for the trouble, Bill. We sometimes get some less reputable folks aboard so we need to make sure they're not trouble. Robinson: Oh. I get it, yeah. [Dylan leads Robinson up to the deck.] Dylan: You mentioned some cupcakes, right? Robinson: Yeah, I was looking into some medical stuff to see about treating my grandma, and it led me to these guys called MC&D? Dylan: And the bastards sent you to us, right? Robinson: They gave me a map to you, and in return I just need to give them the cupcakes I don't use. Dylan: You got lucky, lots of times people are wrapped into selling their soul away. We always give them a hard time whenever we cross paths, but it's hard for just this to compete with all the money in the world. Robinson: What is this, anyway? Dylan: We're the Shark Punching Center. Robinson: Oh. Huh. I… didn't realize that sharks needed punching. Dylan: Ha! Yeah, they sure do. Robinson: Do you just go around… punching sharks? Dylan: [Chuckles.] We still do, but not as much anymore. Robinson: Oh. What happened? Dylan: Well, there are lots of menacing creatures on the high seas, but most of them are sharks. Void sharks, nuclear sharks, tactical sharks, you name it. I got sick of being a teacher, wanted some adventure, so I came out to the sea and started hunting evil sharks. Was pretty good at it too. Eventually got a crew and a bigger boat, but after a while… [Dylan gazes into the distance for a minute.] Dylan: Well, there's lots more evil in the world than just sharks, you know. Our crew got bigger, and at some point I guess we started fighting a lot more than just sharks. Guess when you start getting powerful, you're strong enough to start doing what you really want to. Robinson: I think my grandma would like you guys. Dylan: She sounds like a great lady. But that brings us back to why you're here. Robinson: The cupcakes. Dylan: Right. I remember those. We came across an MC&D ship, boarded them, but all they were carrying is a cake plate of cupcakes. It was really odd, obviously. We bring them aboard, look at the file with it, it has all sorts of magic, so on and so forth, you know what they do. Robinson: So do you have them? Dylan: No. We got roped into a gambling show hosted by Vikander-Kneed. They're their own can of worms, but if they ever call you into a show, you're attending whether you like it or not. One of our guys ends up in Vegas along with some of our stuff, including the cupcakes. They ended up losing everything there. Robinson: Oh. Dylan: Don't fret though! The whole thing happened at the Golden Roger Casino. We're a good ways away from New York, but we should be back in a couple hours. Once you're there— [The ship rumbles. A thick, green mist starts to fill the deck.] Dylan: Shit! Put this on, Bill! [Dylan pulls out a pair of gas masks and gives one to Robinson, who puts it on.] Robinson: What's happening? Dylan: Broom! Wake up! [Broom jerks and perks up, having apparently fallen asleep on Robinson's shoulder.] Dylan: Sleeping gas. By now the rest of the crew's probably out cold. Broom, keep an eye on Bill. Both of you hide and be quiet! Robinson: Dylan! What's happening? Dylan: It's one of the sharks! From— [A figure erupts from the water by the ship. After a few seconds, it falls onto the deck, landing on its feet. Robinson and Broom both hide behind a metal shipping container.] Dylan: Well, well. Bit early for a visit from the Cult of Many Sharks, isn't it? [The gas slowly dissipates, revealing the figure. It largely resembles a human, but its skin is a light gray, its hands are webbed, and it bears a shark's head instead of a human one. It is wearing advanced tactical gear, and strapped to its back is an anchor.] Sharkic Entity: Dylan… after months of searching for you myself, you just so happen to stumble into me. Fate is a funny thing, but now you'll fall at the hands of Bloodrend! Dylan: I figured the cult would have sent more. Only one of you versus me is hardly a fair fight. [Bloodrend roars and pulls the anchor off its back.] Bloodrend: This is personal, Dylan. My hate is more than just the cult's. Twice now I have failed to kill you, even with the help of my own. Dylan: And what makes you think you can do it alone? Bloodrend: I've spent the last several months training, honing my skills. Now, I alone face you, without your crew. Just the two of us, in an honorable battle. [Dylan holds up his fists and pumps each of them once.] Dylan: Then come on, son! Give it your best shot! [Bloodrend charges at Dylan and swings its anchor. Dylan crouches to dodge it and goes for a punch to the back of the knee. Bloodrend turns around and catches Dylan's fist in his hand.] Dylan: What? [Bloodrend throws Dylan across the deck.] Bloodrend: The Cult of Many Sharks has always forbidden the use of fin-to-hand combat! But this… [Robinson repositions himself to get a better view of the fight. Bloodrend runs to Dylan and tries to punch him, but Dylan manages to dodge the blow.] Bloodrend: I have nothing left to lose, Dylan! I've lost my honor to you twice now! And in this fight, I'll stoop to your level! [Bloodrend and Dylan rush towards each other. The two exchange a flurry of blows, briefly in a stalemate, until Bloodrend feints and lands a punch to Dylan's face. Dylan stumbles, but remains standing.] Dylan: Amateur. Anyone can throw a few punches. Bloodrend: [Roars.] I'll show you! [Dylan goes for another punch, but Bloodrend knocks it away.] Bloodrend: You've been punching all this time, Dylan! But you're nothing more than a mere human! You'll never know a true shark's strength until I hit you with it! [Bloodrend punches Dylan to the ground. Before he can get up, it places a foot on his chest.] Robinson: No! Bloodrend: Weak little man. [Robinson starts sneaking towards Bloodrend, keeping behind it.] Broom: [Whispering.] What are you thinking? Bloodrend: For too long, you and your crew have halted the Cult of Many Sharks' divine mission. Without you, we would have conquered the world a long time ago. But now… [Bloodrend leans to Dylan's head.] Bloodrend: You're finished. Once I've defeated you, I will return to our cult and regain my honor, and we'll begin our assault. The world is as weak as you, Dylan. They'll fold to our might. Twenty-nine sharks… humanity has no defense against our numbers! Of course, for my deeds, I'll be given a palace. Perhaps I'll keep your corpse in— [Robinson finishes closing the distance, and with a scream, he punches Bloodrend. Bloodrend stumbles slightly, taking its foot off Dylan. It roars and punches Robinson back, knocking him down.] Bloodrend: Pathetic wimp! You dare to interrupt my vengeance speech? Once I'm finished with him, you're next! [Bloodrend turns back around, but Dylan is gone.] Bloodrend: What! Dylan: Hey Cumrend. [Bloodrend looks up to see Dylan, who had somehow grabbed one of the ship's crane hooks and climbed onto a tall container, swinging towards him. Dylan connects his fist with Bloodrend's face, causing it to stumble backwards. It hits the railing and falls overboard.] Dylan: Sea you on the flip side. [Dylan runs to Robinson and helps him up.] Dylan: Well done, Bill! Robinson: [Groans.] Thanks. Dylan: Looks like you could use a well-deserved rest. Broom: I knew you had it in you! Oh, I remember when I first brought you aboard so long ago, I said right there you had potential, and— Dylan: Broom. Broom: Yeah boss? Dylan: Shut up. [After several hours, Robinson awakens. He has been moved to a cot inside the ship. Broom flies to him.] Broom: Evening, partner. Robinson: [Yawns.] I thought I was dreaming. Broom: Were you? You slept like a baby. Robinson: I mean about this. Did I… did I fight a shark? Broom: I mean, you got hit by a shark and nearly died, but— [The door opens and Dylan enters.] Dylan: Bill! Good to see you awake! Robinson: Thanks, Dylan. Dylan: Oh, no no no. I should be thanking you! Without your help, I'd be dead! Robinson: Mm… didn't do much. Dylan: Don't be stupid, you did great! Robinson: I got my ass handed to me by a fish. Dylan: And distracted it long enough for me to get rid of it! That was such a moving display of bravery. And I don't say that sarcastically. [Robinson blushes and turns his head.] Robinson: Well, thanks. Where are we right now? Dylan: We left New York about two hours ago. We got your car on board. Robinson: Wait, but you said the cupcakes are in Vegas, right? And why's my car here? Dylan: Exactly right, man. And I'm gonna help you with that. Follow me. [Dylan guides Robinson to the deck. As he does so, several of the SPC members they pass thank or congratulate Robinson.] Dylan: Broom told them all about what you did. Or rather, what he remembers and what I amended. Broom: Right ho, we did! Robinson: I feel more embarrassed than anything. [The three of them arrive at the wheelhouse. Dylan turns to Robinson.] Dylan: You did a very brave thing, Bill. Doesn't matter if you didn't do the big finish. Being willing to fight against cruelty, that's what matters. [Dylan guides them all inside. The interior resembles an average cargo ship wheelhouse, aside from an unusually large lever on the wall labeled "FAST LANE." Four SPC members are at different stations, manning the ship.] Dylan: Now! I'm not just gonna make you go to Vegas the long way. I try to avoid using it unless for emergencies, but for you, I owe you one and many more. Shelly! [A woman wearing a mid-1800s diving suit turns to the group.] Shelly: Yes sir? Dylan: Are we ready for departure? Shelly: We're fifty miles from land, no ships in sight, and no major obstructions for twelve hundred feet beneath us. Robinson: Beneath us? Dylan: Oh, you'll see! Shelly, care to do the honors? Shelly: On it! [Shelly grabs the "FAST LANE" lever and pulls it down. A loud alarm sounds through the ship.] Robinson: What's going on? Dylan: Look out there! [Robinson looks out the window. The water seems to be rising around the ship.] Robinson: Dylan! We're sinking! Dylan: [Laughs.] Yes we are! Brace yourself! [The ship begins sinking faster. Just as the water is about to go over the hull, Robinson flinches and ducks to the floor.] Dylan: That gets everyone! Get up, Bill! Take a look! [Robinson slowly rises and looks out the window, then rushes out the door to get a better view. The ship is completely submerged, but a pocket of air holds itself around the deck, leaving the entire walking area of the ship completely dry. Several species of Atlantic fish swim around, illuminated by the lights on deck. Robinson gazes at a humpback whale passing by the ship. Dylan pats him on the back.] Dylan: Good morning, Bill. It's a beautiful world outside. [Robinson walks along the deck, with Dylan and Broom following him, gazing at the fish around the ship. After several minutes, it begins to rise, eventually breaching the surface.] Dylan: Here comes the magic touch! [As the ship rises, the scenery becomes more apparent. It is the middle of the night, and the ship seems to have risen from a lake in a desert biome. The ship makes its way to the shore and docks. Dylan guides Robinson to the side ramp.] Dylan: Now, we're at Lake Mead right now. Vegas is mostly west. I've parked us where we shouldn't be seen, since otherwise we'd have to deal with Foundation investigations later, so you're gonna need to do some off-roading until you get to the main road, turn left onto Lakeshore Road, then right once you hit the highway. Go until you hit the Eleven, then turn right again and keep driving until you get to Vegas. Book a room somewhere, then in the morning look for the Golden Roger Casino. You got all that? Robinson: Lakeshore, highway, Eleven, hotel, Golden Roger Casino. Dylan: There's my man. Now listen. Golden Roger's not actually a casino, at least, not the one in Vegas. Closed down in the eighties, still there. It's one of the few unregulated portals to Hell, though. Robinson: Hell? Dylan: Fourth Circle, yeah. Now, once you're there, you'll need to make your way to the Luxor. That's what's anchoring Hell to Vegas, and more importantly, where we lost the goods. Find Ruth, she's running one of the blackjack tables. Very tall, green skin, three eyes. Most importantly, don't bet too much. You can lose a lot more than your money in Vegas. Broom: And keep your head down! Dylan: You too, Broom. Oh yeah, Broom's coming with you. Broom: I am? Robinson: He is? Dylan: His memory's a bit shaky, but he's a good friend to have. And he loves a good trip. Broom: I do? Dylan: Oh, and one more thing. [Dylan hands Robinson a slip of paper.] Dylan: That's my number. Please don't go asking for constant random favors, but if you're ever in an emergency, just give me a call. Robinson: Oh, thanks, thank you! Dylan: How are you holding up? Robinson: It's… a lot. I think I need to process it a little. Dylan: Get some actual sleep first. But you'll do great. You've got a good head on your shoulders and a strong heart in your chest. Robinson: Thanks, Dylan. I just… [Dylan lays a hand on Robinson's shoulder.] Dylan: It's scary, isn't it? Robinson: [Nods.] Yeah. Yeah it is. Dylan: Learning that this secret world is here, it was scary for all of us. Robinson: Do you ever wish you could forget it all? Dylan: No. Not really. Because it's beautiful, too. You know, an infinitely deeper world just means infinitely more possibilities. Robinson: I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. I'm not anything special. Dylan: Neither was I. [Long pause.] Dylan: You should get going. Robinson: Yeah. [Dylan holds out his arms. After a moment, Robinson hugs him. The two embrace momentarily before Robinson begins to leave, his face red. As he does, the SPC members cheer and clap for him. He waves before stepping in his car and leaving. As he does so, the ship sinks behind him.] Robinson: Hey grandma, it's me. Robinson: Yeah, everything's— everything's okay. Robinson: I'm out of town right now. Robinson: No, it's… I'll tell you later. I just felt like calling you. Robinson: You doing okay? Robinson: That's good. Robinson: I'm fine, just… you know. Robinson: Yeah. Robinson: Thanks, grandma. I love you. Robinson: Sleep well. Investigation Report 8228.1-5: Robinson arrived in Vegas later that night and stayed at the Crumpet Hotel. The following day, he and Broom made their way to the Golden Roger Casino. Robinson: I think you should lay low, I've got a pocket on the inside of my coat if you want. Broom: Don't be silly, there are lots of pigeons in Vegas. Robinson: Never mind. Broom: Oh, there he is! Golden Roger! [Robinson stops in front of the Golden Roger Casino. There are multiple "Closed" signs in the windows, and the interior seems to be in a state of disrepair.] Robinson: Do we like, knock? Broom: Hell if I know. [Robinson tentatively knocks on the door. Nothing happens.] Broom: I told you that wouldn't work. [Robinson ignores him and instead opts to open the door. It's unlocked and swings inward.] Broom: I told you that wouldn't work either. But a broken clock is wrong twice a day! You ready to go, partner? Robinson: Yeah. I guess so. [Robinson enters and gasps. On the opposite side is Undervegas: an approximate recreation of Las Vegas inside of an immense cavern. Most of the casinos are once-closed venues which, save for the Golden Roger, are fully functioning. Tartarean-class entities of all classes are wandering the streets, and for the most part are behaving similarly to average Las Vegas citizens. The Luxor is clearly visible, standing taller than the other structures in Undervegas.] Robinson: I'm not sure I'm ready for this, Broom. I— Broom! [Broom has made his way to a tall, lanky demon, wearing an expensive suit and glasses.4 Its skin is tan and largely human-like, though shards of metal jut out of multiple places on its body.] Broom: Hello there! My buddy and I were looking for the Luxor, would you be able to point us in the right direction? [The demon turns to Robinson and walks towards him. Robinson remains still but holds his hands in front of his body. The demon stops inches away and stares down at Robinson.] Demon: [Smiles.] Ah, you must have some poor eyesight, mate! Not to worry, I do too, that's why I gotta wear these prescription lenses! [He points to the Luxor.] Just head right about that way and you'll be there in no time. Robinson: Oh! Uh, thanks! Demon: Not a problem, mate! This your first time in Hell? Robinson: I— yeah, yeah it is. I kind of expected you and everyone else to be more… evil? Demon: Oh, I'm very evil. I actually just stole your wallet. [The demon holds up Robinson's wallet and tries to run, but trips and falls after only a few feet, dropping it.] Demon: Damn! My prescription lenses! And also my ankle! [Robinson runs to his wallet, picks it up, and sprints away. Broom follows closely behind. After a minute, they slow to a walk.] Robinson: Fuck. Broom: Sorry Bill. He seemed like a good fellow. Robinson: It's okay, just keep our heads low, yeah? [The two of them start walking to the Luxor.] Broom: You're handling this remarkably well. Robinson: I mean, I guess. I thought I'd be feeling weirder about all this, but… it's like going to another country, I guess. Not that I've ever been, but I think this is how I'd feel. Broom: Baby's first adventure! Robinson: [Laughs.] I guess so. But I kind of want to get it all over with, Broom. [Long pause.] Robinson: Why are you called that, anyway? Broom: Called what? Robinson: Broom? Broom: Yeah? Robinson: No, I mean, why are you called Broom? Broom: Oh! I used to mop the decks. Robinson: Used to? Broom: I think I wasn't very good at it. Dylan said I did okay, but I don't believe him. Robinson: What do you do now? Broom: I just want to be useful! Useful! [The pair continue on in silence until they reach the Luxor.] Robinson: We're here. Broom: Excellent! We're very lucky Egypt borders Nevada! [Robinson and Broom enter at the casino level. Inside, the interior resembles the Luxor in Las Vegas: an immense hollow pyramid, and even at the ground level the atrium is clearly visible. However, this version of the Luxor more closely resembles its initial opening appearance, including a much stronger Egyptian theme and the inclusion of the Nile River interior ride. Like the rest of Undervegas it is populated almost entirely by demons. A few guards roam the area, though none of them pay the pair any heed. Robinson and Broom both gaze around the hotel for a minute before making their way to the casinos.] Robinson: Dylan said Ruth'll be at the blackjack tables and has green skin and three eyes. Broom: Tall lady! Yes! Robinson: You see her? Broom: Left! Awooga! [Robinson turns. On the opposite end of the casino area is a demon matching Ruth's description, indeed running a blackjack table. The two of them approach her. Two demons are at the table.] Robinson: Ruth? Ruth: Wait. [The demon on the right's hand is a pair of fives. He taps the table and Ruth puts down a two. He taps again and the next card is a king. Ruth takes his chips.] Right Demon: Hmph. Tough luck. [The left demon's hand is a three and a four. He taps and gets another three. He taps again and receives a ten. He grins and waves his hands.] Left Demon: For you, maybe. [The card in front of Ruth is a six. She pulls out a four, then pulls out an ace.] Left Demon: Fuck! Ruth: Sorry, bud. [The left demon knocks over the stool and stomps away to the slot machines. The other demon sighs and follows.] Ruth: You here to play? Robinson: Actually I'm here to talk to you. Broom: Opinion on pastries? Ruth: If it's quick and you don't take up space. What do you want? Robinson: Do you remember participating in a show by Vikander-Kneed? Ruth: [Scowls.] Wish I could forget. Broom: You don't like them? Ruth: Nobody likes them! I didn't want to run a blackjack game but I didn't really have a choice, did I? Robinson: Do you remember winning a plate of cupcakes? Ruth: I remember the house winning a lot of weird shit. Why are you looking for cupcakes in particular? Robinson: Personal stuff. Ruth: Well, they belong to the house now. Robinson: Oh. Who do I talk to about getting them? Ruth: Are you stupid? Robinson: Sorry for being new in town, I guess. Ruth: Whatever. Nothing I can do to help, anyway. Robinson: Come on! I'm so close! Ruth: Will you fuck off? If you're so desperate, go talk with Aeshma or something. Robinson: Okay, where's Aeshma? Ruth: Fuck if I know. Go talk with the front desk or whatever. I've got players here anyway. Robinson: Thanks, I guess. [Robinson walks back to the entrance where there is a long line of demons waiting to reach the desk.] Robinson: Oh cool. Great. Demon: Welcome to Hell, bud. [Robinson stands in line, waiting for almost an hour before he reaches the front.] Receptionist: Welcome to the Luxor Hotel and Casino, what can I— [The receptionist looks at Robinson.] Receptionist: Huh. Robinson: Hi, yeah, I'm looking for Aeshma, I was just wondering if you could— Receptionist: Are you here to make a deal? Robinson: Sorry? Receptionist: I said, are you here to make a deal? Broom: Yes please! Robinson: If I have to, sure? [The receptionist turns behind her to a large demon made entirely of granite and wearing sunglasses and a T-shirt with "SECURITY" written across the front.] Receptionist: Human looking for Aeshma. [The security demon steps out from behind the counter.] Security Demon: Come with me. [The security demon guides Robinson and Broom to an elevator, taking care to avoid any guards as he does so. The three step in and are immediately taken upwards.] Security Demon: [Holds finger to ear.] Tell Miss Aeshma she has a visitor. A human. [The elevator stops. The security demon walks them through one of the hotel's hallways. After a minute, they reach a door labeled "Room 912," which he knocks upon.] Female Voice: Come in! [The security demon opens the door for Robinson and Broom, who promptly enter. Behind the door is what resembles a penthouse apartment. A hallway leads into a living room decorated by several potted plants, with a coffee table flanked by gray sofas in the center. The far wall of the living room is simply an immense window, which looks down into the interior of the Luxor.] Voice: Just have a seat, I'll be over shortly! [Robinson sits down and Broom perches on the sofa arm. After a moment, a woman enters. Aside from her red irises, she is indistinguishable from a normal human. She has brown hair and pale skin, and she wears a simple white shirt and jeans.] Robinson: You're Aeshma? Aeshma: Indeed I am. Would you care for some biscuits? Robinson: Oh. Um, no thank you. Broom: Yay biscuits! [Aeshma snaps her fingers and a plate of biscuits appears on the table. Broom hops over and begins attempting to eat one of the biscuits, though because he lacks a beak he instead ends up slamming his face into it repeatedly.] Aeshma: Now, what can I do for you? Robinson: I'm sorry to bother you, I was just recommended by Ruth down there, I'm looking for something that was taken by the casino here and I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to get it back. [Aeshma stares at Robinson for a moment before sitting down.] Aeshma: You really don't know what you're doing, do you? Robinson: I'm sorry? Aeshma: Oh, where to begin… Bill, yes? Robinson: How did— Aeshma: Names are easy for demons. I already knew a great deal about you before you came here, but you don't know anything about me, do you? Robinson: I… guess not. Aeshma: I am Aeshma. Pit Boss of The Beat and the Demon of Wrath. [Brief pause.] Robinson: Wrath. Aeshma: Surprised? Robinson: A bit. Aeshma: Most people are. Most of the other Pit Bosses are more apt reflections of their domain. Even my closest competitors are brimming with visible hatred and anger. Robinson: But you're not? Aeshma: Oh, Bill. I'm more livid than any of them could ever be. But hidden anger, confused anger… that's where it's most potent. Robinson: I'm not sure I understand. Aeshma: Back in the day, I was a Zoroastrian demon. Aeshma of the bloody mace. Of course, I've mostly forgotten those days, do you know how many people follow Zoroastrianism? Robinson: None? Aeshma: Not many. But as I was forgotten and Christianity was fully realized, I found myself condemned to this place. I worked to rule The Beat, though it's not been easy. So many times I've lost my throne and had to take it back. And then the Foundation came… and here I am. Once again shadowed, not by insignificance, but by authority. Robinson: I feel like I've heard that name before. The Foundation. Aeshma: I will explain in a moment, but I want you to listen to me first. It's been so long since a living human has come directly to me. Robinson: Right, I need something. Aeshma: But in order to make a deal with me, I want to bare my soul to you. Robinson: Why? [Aeshma stares at Robinson for a moment.] Aeshma: Much like you, I've been constantly frustrated by irrelevance and inferiority. But unlike other humans, and indeed, other demons, I can recognize it. Hide it. But never run from it, because running from anger is running from pain, and running from pain is running from strength. It gave me a sense of self, and what enabled me to persist when the demons and gods of my original pantheon didn't. [Aeshma puts her hands together. When she opens them, a cup of tea has appeared, from which she takes a sip.] Aeshma: I'm telling you right now that I'm angry, hateful, and violent, but you'll never believe it because I say it so calmly and sweetly. And that same veiled anger is what you and so many others possess. By telling you who I am, you regress further into your own anger, and further into my clutches. Robinson: I'm not really angry. Aeshma: Oh, of course you are! But I'm so happy to see you deny it, like everyone else. No one else sees anger until it's obvious, and that's their downfall, because when it's obvious, it's sloppy and unintelligent and crude. Robinson: If— If I'm angry, it's because I'm not getting any closer to what I want. Aeshma: Music to my ears! But don't worry, Bill. I'm going to help you. You asked about the Foundation, yes? I'm surprised no one's told you about them. Robinson: So like, are they with the government or something? Aeshma: Nothing so small as that. By now you've seen a few magical and unexplainable things. Do you know why nobody knows about them? The Foundation is why. The eye in the sky, the men in black, the big brother. Robinson: But I was able to find out. Aeshma: Oh, they're not so minute as that. They're just smart enough to know where to put their resources. It's why I'm in a penthouse suite rather than a prison cell. It wouldn't matter either way, though. Robinson: So they're in control of Hell? Aeshma: The Luxor, both in Hell and on the other side, is just their base of operations. If something was lost here, you'll have them to answer to. And while Vegas casinos have a predatory reputation, they're nothing compared to the SCP Foundation. [They sit in silence for a moment.] Aeshma: Is it worth it? Robinson: I mean, yeah. Aeshma: You do understand how those cupcakes work? Robinson: I— Aeshma: Names aren't the only thing I know. As your anger grows, your soul becomes more open to me. Now, do you understand how they work? Robinson: They make people healthy and young when they eat them? Aeshma: At a price. The person physically closest to them dies. [Robinson remains silent, clearly in thought.] Aeshma: Obviously, feeding one to your grandmother would most likely require your demise, but there are ways around that. You could always have someone else closer to you when she eats it, or you— Robinson: That doesn't change anything. [Aeshma's eyes widen, clearly surprised. She leans forward and looks into Robinson's eyes for a few seconds.] Aeshma: Now that's interesting. I've seen a lot of people claim they'd sacrifice themselves for a cause, but… you might actually do it. Why? Robinson: I thought you'd know. Aeshma: Maybe I do. But you've hardly said anything, have you? Robinson: Because my grandma actually does shit with her life! I'm more than happy to give up my own completely uninteresting and meaningless life for hers! I don't do anything! Now, can you please help me? [Aeshma tilts her head and stares at Robinson.] Robinson: What? Aeshma: It's just… never mind. Now, your interests just so happen to align with mine somewhat. Just because I'm biding my time doesn't mean I wouldn't relish upsetting the Foundation. There would be at least a few angry souls if you succeeded. Robinson: Great! Aeshma: But of course, you would die in anger if you failed. And more importantly, I can't just give you what you need. Robinson: And what is it I need? Aeshma: A location, mainly. Where it's kept. If an anomalous item was lost to the Luxor, it would inevitably end up in containment at an SCP Foundation site. I could divine its location, but it would take work… Robinson: So are you going to help me? Aeshma: If you earn it, yes. Here in Vegas, there's only one way to regain what was lost through misfortune. Robinson: And that would be? Aeshma: Do you gamble, Bill? [Aeshma guides Robinson and Broom to a poker table. A few demons are currently seated there, having just finished a hand.] Aeshma: You're done. [The demons quietly take their chips and flee the table. Aeshma and Robinson seat themselves on opposite ends.] Aeshma: Now, in this game we'll be betting secrets. From me, the secret of the cupcakes' location, and for you, your goal to obtain them. Robinson: But you already know that. Aeshma: But when you lose your secret, you lose it for yourself as well. You'll have no idea what you're here for. Robinson: I'll forget about the cupcakes? Aeshma: Correct. Now— [Aeshma snaps her fingers. Ten tokens appear in front of each of them.] Aeshma: Do you know how to play poker? Robinson: Yeah. Aeshma: Good. We'll— Shit. Robinson: What is it? Aeshma: Don't look behind you. The Directors are approaching us. [Broom turns. Two people are walking towards them: Director Yossarian Leiner of the Department of Tactical Theology, and Director Randall House of Site-666.5 The two of them are clearly approaching the table.] Aeshma: Fate has other plans for us, Bill. Robinson: Who are the Directors? Aeshma: Not people to be trifled with. House runs the Luxor, and Leiner is a close associate of his. If they choose to play with us, the stakes will be far greater. If you lose to me, you'll have time before the Foundation discovers your secret. Time to hide, or if you're very lucky, time to find another way to get what you want. If you lose to them though, they'll learn immediately, and you'll be detained on the spot. Robinson: Broom, you should hide somewhere. Broom: Aye-aye, captain! [Broom hops across the table then flies atop a nearby slot machine. House and Leiner reach the table.] House: Aeshma! [House and Leiner each take seats opposing each other, next to Robinson and Aeshma.] Aeshma: Good to see you, Yossarian. Leiner: You too, Aeshma. Aeshma: House. What brings you here? House: I finally got my fucking bonus so I'm here to lose all of it. Leiner's also here, he got new shoes and wanted to show everyone. [Leiner holds one of his feet up, displaying a new black leather shoe.] Robinson: That's a nice shoe. House: It is! I got them for him as a thank you gift, for the thing he helped me with last week. Leiner: We defeated the Lost Holies of the Between Worlds. House: Yeah, it was hella fun, we both were pretty awesome. Leiner: Very cinematic too. You could make a movie out of it. House: Anyway, who's this guy? [Points to Robinson.] Aeshma: Simply a lost and deceased soul here to make a deal with me. [The two directors turn to Robinson.] Leiner: Ouch, good luck with that. House: Yeah, uh, sorry to hear. [Turns back to Aeshma.] How's biding your time going? Aeshma: A day closer every day. House: Cool! Mind if we join for your poker game? Aeshma: I do mind. House: Awesome! What are we betting? Aeshma: Secrets, between myself and our friend here. House: I have fifty thousand. And uh, Yoss doesn't usually gamble, but I'll put in fifty grand more for his tokens. Leiner: Nice. House: [Whispering to Robinson.] Careful against him by the way, he doesn't gamble but he kinda goes crazy, you know? [Laughs.] Robinson: Ha, yeah… [House and Leiner both put their chips on the table. Aeshma deals out the cards. Robinson takes a look at his hand. He starts quivering slightly. House puts in a single chip as a small blind, while Robinson puts down two.] Leiner: Call. Aeshma: I'll also call. House: Me too. [The flop is laid out: the queen of hearts, the four of diamonds, and the eight of diamonds.] Robinson: Call. Leiner: Raise! [Leiner sets down three more chips.] Aeshma: Call. House: Call. [Brief pause.] Leiner: You good? Robinson: Yeah. I'll… call. [Bill puts down three chips. The turn is set down: the four of clubs.] House: Hmm… call. Bill: Me— Me too. [Leiner drums his fingers on the table.] Leiner: Call. Aeshma? Aeshma: Call. [The river is laid out: the four of hearts.] Aeshma: Hm. House: Ha! I'll raise that! [Robinson is visibly sweating.] Robinson: I— I'll call. Leiner: Tsk. G'valt. I'm gonna fold this one. Aeshma: I will call. House: Read 'em and cry! [House puts down his cards: the ace of hearts and the four of spades, giving him a four-of-a-kind. Leiner and Aeshma both groan. Robinson simply stares blankly at the table. A single tear rolls down his left cheek. House pats him on the shoulder.] House: Tough luck, bud, but the House always wins. Now, if you'll excuse me— Robinson: No. House: Pardon? Robinson: I'd like to play another hand. House: I mean, shit, that's a hundred grand in just yours and the demon's, I'm not sure a dead man is good for that. Robinson: Then I'll bet my soul. [The other three table members stare at Robinson for a moment.] House: Ha! Be serious, man. [Robinson turns to Aeshma.] Robinson: I'm not sure how much my soul is worth, but surely it's at least a hundred thousand, right? Aeshma: Two hundred is the standard bet. Robinson: Then I'll play it. [Leiner passes his remaining tokens to House.] Leiner: I'm out. I just play for fun, no soul-betting on my part. House: Shit, I guess you're gonna do it. I'm in too, though I'll just play the tokens I got. [Aeshma snaps her fingers, and a set of forty glowing chips appears in front of Robinson. She also pulls out some of her own chips.] Aeshma: I'll play as well. I have the funds for it. [House deals out the cards. Robinson puts down a single token and Aeshma puts down a pair.] House: Call. Robinson: Call. Aeshma: Call. [The flop goes out, showing a six of spades, a seven of spades, and a king of hearts.] Aeshma: I'll raise. [Aeshma puts in eight more chips.] House: Call again. I like this one. Robinson: I'll call too. [The turn is next, adding a two of clubs to the table. Robinson's hand starts to shake.] House: Nervous? Robinson: C— Call. Aeshma: Call. Remember, Bill. House: Let's raise it again! [House pushes forward another ten tokens. Robinson starts sweating even more profusely.] Robinson: C— C— Call. Aeshma: Call. [The river goes out: a ten of spades.] House: Yoss, what's the policy on taking souls? Leiner: I don't think you can. House: We'll figure it out. At any rate— Robinson: All in. [The table goes silent.] Aeshma: Be careful, Bill. I'll fold. House: What the hell, I'll go all in. [House smirks and immediately reveals his hand, displaying a two and a three of spades.] House: Tough luck, pal. I won't take your soul, not that mean, but you did bet your secrets, so— what? [Robinson has revealed his hand, showing an eight and a nine of spades: a straight flush.] House: Shit. Leiner: [Laughs.] Damn, Randall. Aeshma: Well played, Bill. [House laughs and claps Robinson's back.] House: Well played indeed! That's what, three hundred thousand? And Aeshma's secret, and all the stuff you bet? You love to see it, I think you'll do just fine here in Hell. [Robinson breathes a sigh of relief.] Robinson: I should get going. Leiner: Me too. It's always a pleasure, Aeshma. [Leiner shakes Aeshma's hand before standing up.] Aeshma: Do take care, Yossarian. House: Well, I've already lost my bonus. I guess I'll be headed out too. Might stop at the blackjack tables though. Leiner: Randall. House: Fine, whatever. Seriously though, Bill, nice going. Robinson: Thanks. You guys have a good one. [Robinson starts walking away when House grabs his shoulder.] House: Hold it right there. [Robinson goes pale. He slowly turns his head to House, who is looking at him sternly.] House: [Smiles.] Chip exchange is the other way. Robinson: Oh. Th— Thank you. [Robinson exchanges his earnings before walking out. As he does, Broom flies over to him.] Broom: That was so scary! [Suddenly, Robinson falls to his knees.] Robinson: Holy shit. I actually bet my soul. To the devil. What the fuck is wrong with me. Aeshma: A demon, actually. [Robinson looks up and sees Aeshma standing above him. She extends a hand, which Robinson takes. He stands up.] Aeshma: House, the bastard. Stressful, arrogant, though not particularly cruel. Still, not the sort you want to lose a game to, even if he would have let you keep your soul. Leiner's a charming man, though. Still a bastard. Robinson: I just— I'm in way over my head. Aeshma: And yet you persevered. With my help, of course. Robinson: Why are you helping me? Aeshma: "Help" is a strong word, Bill. But I do enjoy any successful campaigns against the Foundation. They're angrier than you might think. Robinson: But if you just wanted anger, aren't there more direct ways to get that? [Aeshma turns and looks out at Undervegas.] Aeshma: Do you feel anger when you look at your grandmother, Bill? Robinson: No? Why would I be angry at my grandmother? Aeshma: I didn't ask if you were angry at her. I asked if you feel anger regarding her. [Robinson ponders for a minute.] Robinson: Yeah. Yeah I do. Aeshma: You see it? Your anger? Robinson: I think so. Aeshma: Good. Are you still determined to follow through with the plan you have set? Robinson: I am. Aeshma: And not a second of hesitation from you. Now, you should have gotten a slip of paper along with your earnings? Robinson: Yeah. That'll tell us where the cupcakes are? Aeshma: Indeed. You should be able to reach it with little difficulty. As for getting what you want from them… that's up to you. Do take care, Bill. And best of luck! I look forward to the angry souls you'll leave behind. [Aeshma walks away.] Broom: So what's the paper say? [Robinson opens it up and reads it.] Robinson: We're going to Canada? Investigation Report 8228.1-6: Over the next week, Robinson spent his time making his journey to Canada and planning a way to infiltrate Site-43 with Broom. [Robinson and Broom are in Robinson's car driving to Site-43; the time is 12:04 P.M. Robinson is wearing a dark suit and a lab coat.] Broom: Welcome to Canada! Robinson: We've been in Canada since two days ago. Broom: Wow, time flies, doesn't it? Robinson: Mhm. [Long pause.] Broom: Ah, I've forgotten. Where are we headed? Robinson: Site-43, according to Aeshma. Broom: Ah, yes. Beautiful place. [Long pause.] Robinson: Are you sure you want to come with me? Might be dangerous. Broom: Danger is what I die for, Bill. Robinson: Yeah, I just… you don't seem well. Your memory's getting a lot worse. Broom: My memory? Robinson: Yeah. You— You forget a lot of stuff. Broom: I was unaware of this. Thank you, Bill, for letting me know! Robinson: You remember my name, at least. Broom: Of course! I would never forget the name of a dear friend. [Pause.] Broom: You've been very kind to me, Bill. Robinson: I have? Broom: For someone who does so many cool things, you're very nice. Robinson: You don't owe me anything. Broom: You're doing big, meaningful things! All I want is to be useful to you, Bill. [The two are silent for almost half an hour. Eventually, they start approaching the front gate to Site-43.] Robinson: Okay Broom, just meet me when I park. Maybe join a flock until then, okay? Just keep out of sight. Broom: Yay! [Broom flies out of the passenger seat window. A few moments later, Robinson arrives at the front gate. He's flagged down by Agent Mund and rolls down his window seat.] Robinson: Please, please tell me this is Site-43. Mund: What can I do for you, sir? Robinson: Oh my god, finally. Listen, I just moved up to Canada from the States, and a friend of mine, Randall House? He and another guy, Leiner said they'd put in a good word for me to get a job with you guys up here. I'm just hoping to see someone for an interview. Mund: Can I see some ID? Robinson: Yeah, I'm Bill Robinson. [Mund calls administration.] Mund: Is Elstrom there? Wettle: No, it's just Wettle. Elstrom called out sick, I'm taking over. On my day off too… Mund: Sick again? Fucking hell… Right, we've got a guy, says he's here to apply for a job? Wettle: Hold on, let me see… [Brief pause.] Wettle: I don't have anyone showing up, who recommended him? Mund: A "Randall House," do you know him? Wettle: Of fucking course he did, probably just didn't bother to call ahead. Just— just search his car for any explosives or shit then let him through, I'll get something set up. After I've had an aspirin I'll go yell at House too. Mund: Got it. [Hangs up.] Alright sir, I'm just gonna conduct a quick search of your car and then we'll let you through. [Mund goes into his guard post and comes out with a Mobile Universal Scanning Apparatus (MUPA). After turning it on, he goes around the car a few times before putting it away.] Mund: You're good to go. Just head down this road, go into the parking lot, and the front entrance to the main building should be right there. Robinson: Thank you so much, I've been driving since seven this morning trying to figure this out. Mund: No problem, good luck with your interview. [Robinson follows the directions and parks near the entrance. Broom flies down to meet him.] Broom: So you gave that guard the slip, huh? The old one-two? Robinson: Uh, sure. [Robinson pulls out a rolling suitcase and makes his way inside. A pair of guards escort him to the elevator and take him down to Sublevel 3.] Robinson: Now, the paper said the Safe and Neutralized wing, Unit 73… Oh, excuse me! [Robinson approaches Doctor Riley Ng. They stop and turn to him.] Ng: Oh hi! How can I help you and your uh, bird…? [Robinson looks at his shoulder, realizing that Broom is still on his shoulder.] Robinson: Oh, uh… we just came from the Luxor. New transfer here. He's just uh… kind of my sidekick, really. Ng: Is that right? Well, he's certainly a cutie! Broom: Oh you're just too nice! Robinson: Anyway, we're actually looking for the Safe/Neutralized wing, can you— Ng: Oh, just go back up the elevator! First sublevel, you'll just need level 2 clearance to get to that floor. Robinson: Well, lucky I have that! Ng: You have a good one, and welcome to Site-43! Robinson: Ha, thanks! Okay Broom, I don't have security clearance level 2, how do we get some? [Suddenly, Dr. William Wettle runs into the foyer. His hands are on fire.] Wettle: Fuck, my hands are on fire! Robinson: Oh my god, his hands are on fire! [Robinson takes off his lab coat, runs over to Wettle, and uses it to smother the fire.] Wettle: Goddammit… Thanks, at least, Mister… Robinson: Robinson. Wettle: Oh shit, you're the guy with the interview. Okay, just stay here in the foyer and… I'll grab someone for you, I guess. Oh hold on… [Wettle tries to unwrap his hands, but to no avail. Robinson goes to help him, and as he does so, notices Wettle's Level 4 clearance card in his shirt pocket. As he unwraps Wettle's hands, he subtly attempts to pull the card out. As he does so, he stumbles slightly, falling into Wettle and tearing his shirt off.] Wettle: Not again! Robinson: Oh, sir, I'm so, so sorry! Wettle: Dammit… it's not your fault, just… I'll take my shirt back. Robinson: Oh, right. [Robinson gives Wettle his shirt, but sneaks the card into his own pocket.] Wettle: Anyway, I'll just… I'll get someone for you and then I'll… I'm gonna go— I'm gonna day drink or something. Who cares. [Wettle walks away. After a moment, the other personnel in the foyer continue about their business.] Robinson: Cool. Um. Right. [Robinson walks to the elevator. He puts Wettle's card in and selects the button for Sublevel 1. A few moments later, the doors open and he steps out into the main Security and Containment Section of Site-43. Robinson looks at the sign hanging from the ceiling.] Security & Containment ← Keter/Unregistered ← ↑ Euclid/Other ↑ → Safe/Neutralized → [Robinson makes his way to the Safe/Neutralized wing.] Robinson: Seventy-three… seventy-three… Here we are. [Robinson scans Wettle's card and opens Unit 73. Inside is a pedestal, upon which is SCP-8228.] Robinson: Finally! [Robinson begins putting SCP-8228 in his suitcase.] Ibanez: Hey! What are you doing here? [Robinson turns around just in time to see Chief Delfina Ibanez punch him in the face, knocking him out cold.] Addendum 8228.1: Robinson was detained in the facility's minor security ward and kept overnight. Broom was likewise kept in the Safe wing, where his memory database was extracted and analyzed. The day after the break-in, Robinson was interrogated by Dr. Harold Blank. [Robinson is handcuffed to a chair when Dr. Blank walks in, wearing work casual clothes with a badminton racket strapped to his back. He is closely followed by Dr. Wettle, whose beard is extremely poorly trimmed.] Blank: Alright, let's get this over with. Mister… Bill Robinson, correct? Can I call you Bill? [Robinson does not respond.] Blank: Well, Bill. First of all, thank you for making my own job substantially easier with all the easily recoverable footage in your wake. Wettle: I thought this was Elstrom's job? Blank: I was going to a badminton game with some buddies, but she called out sick again. Wettle: Oh, so that's why I'm here again today. Blank: You're here because you're a fucking moron. Robinson: Where's Broom? Blank: Hm? Robinson: Broom. Where is he? Blank: I don't— Oh, the bird? In containment. I'm sure they're treating him well, he's made a very good first impression with the other staff. Now, as for you… [Blank sets down a file and sits down.] Blank: Normally I'd be impressed with how far you made it, except apparently taking advantage of Wettle is like beating a dog at chess. Wettle: Can I go home. Blank: No. Now, Bill. I'm not here to play the bad cop. I know why you did what you did, I'm not gonna guilt you over it. But I also can't pretend like we're allowed to let this slide. Robinson: Are you going to kill me? [Site-43 security reports a disturbance in Lake Huron. Chief Ibanez arrives at the source to investigate.] Ibanez: Report. Agent Alfred: Ma'am, there seems to be some kind of incident in the lake. The water level just… increased. Ibanez: By how much? Alfred: Less than an inch. Normally this wouldn't be a huge deal, but it was entirely spontaneous. Not an inch of rain anywhere near the lake, and it happened all at once. Blank: Kill— No! Jesus Christ dude, I'm— We're not gonna kill you. We're gonna amnesticize you and send you on your way. Robinson: Amnesticize? Blank: Just wipe your memory of the last week or so. [Robinson begins struggling against his handcuffs.] Robinson: You son of a bitch! I'll— Blank: What? Would you have preferred we kill you? Ibanez: Have we scanned the lake itself? Any idea what caused this? Alfred: None yet, ma'am, but— [Alfred listens to his earpiece.] Alfred: Ma'am, it appears a large structure has just appeared at the bottom of Lake Huron and is rapidly ascending. [The water's surface begins bubbling.] Robinson: Do you understand what I'm trying to do here? Blank: I'm as old as your grandma, I more than understand what you're trying to do here! I'm sorry, but we can't just let you decide who gets to live forever! Ibanez: Get reinforcements, now! Alfred: Yes ma'am! Units six and seven, I need—! [The structure breaches the surface, splashing water and mist into the air. When it clears, a dark blue cargo ship is visible, with the words "WEARY DOLPHIN" written along the hull. Multiple cannons and harpoon guns begin rising onto the deck.] Blank: [Taps earpiece.] Can I get some general amnestics up in Cell F please? [An immense explosion shakes the building, rocking the entire room and causing dust to drift from the ceiling. Blank falls and hits his head on the corner of the table. Wettle stumbles but catches himself.] Wettle: Oh phew, I'm okay. [The cell door suddenly opens, hitting Wettle and knocking him out. In walks Dylan from the Shark Punching Center, alongside several members of his crew. Behind him, a large tunnel has been bored into the wall.6 More crew members are running into the building.] Robinson: Dylan? Dylan: Bill! Glad we caught you! [Dylan picks up Blank's keys and starts unlocking Robinson's cuffs.] Robinson: How— How did— Dylan: Broom called us! Handy little friend, he's already on his way up! Now come on lad, let's get going! [Dylan steps onto the walkway and turns around to see Robinson hasn't moved.] Dylan: Bill! Let's go! Robinson: Go on ahead. Dylan: What? Robinson: I need to grab the cupcakes. That's all I'm here for anyway. Dylan: You're lucky your brain's intact, man! You stay here, you're done for! Robinson: It doesn't matter! If I go now, it'll all be for nothing! [Robinson walks up to Dylan and looks him in the eye.] Robinson: It's okay. You've already helped me, just get out now. I can do the rest of this myself. [Robinson grabs Blank's clearance card. He begins running down the hall, passing by multiple guards who ignore him to deal with the intrusion. Suddenly, a series of tremors go through the building. Broom appears from around a corner and perches on his shoulder.] Broom: Tally ho! Robinson: Broom! How did you get here? Broom: You drove me here, remember? Robinson: No I mean— Never mind. [Suddenly, a guard appears from around the corner.] Guard: Stop right there! [The guard holds up a gun, but a metal chair hits him in the face and he collapses. Robinson and Broom turn to see Dylan walking up behind them, with multiple Shark Punching Center members in his wake. The crew begin swarming the area, fighting Foundation personnel.] Broom: Dylan! Robinson: Dylan? I thought you were leaving! Dylan: If you're stupid enough to stay here, might as well help you finish the job. Robinson: Dylan— I don't— I might kiss you. Dylan: No time for that! Where are we headed? Robinson: Right! Once we get to the elevator, it's on the first sublevel! [The two of them duck underneath a tentacled man slamming a Foundation agent into a wall repeatedly.] Robinson: But it's dangerous! What if we can't escape? Dylan: You're one of us now, Bill! We're not just gonna let you rot! [Dylan punches a Foundation guard, then throws him in the way of two more guards, causing them to trip and fall. Another guard attempts to grab Robinson, but he punches him in the face.] Robinson: Sorry! [Dylan and Robinson reach the elevator. A guard starts running to them, but an old woman runs between them, opening her mouth impossibly wide and letting forth a torrent of water, sweeping the guard off his feet. Robinson inserts the card and selects Sublevel 1.] Robinson: They're with the Safe objects, wing on the right. [The elevator opens and the two of them run to the Safe/Neutralized wing. All of a sudden, an explosion emanates from the Keter/Unregistered wing. Several anomalies begin spilling out] Dylan: Uh oh. Robinson: Uh oh? Dylan: Once you decided to stay, I gave the crew word to start blasting holes and picking fights, to give us time to get in here. Looks like someone managed to hit one of the less friendly wings. [URA-9045-43, a bat-like creature, flies towards them, but Dylan and Robinson both punch it in the belly, causing it to keel over. Some guards begin filtering through the area, but are too concerned with the imminent containment breach to deal with the group.] Dylan: Good news is, we probably won't have to deal with any more guards. [URA-8994-43, a large man with three heads, sprints into Dylan. The left head starts biting his shoulder while the middle and right begin offering trivia.] Middle Head: Did you know that the first-ever piano was actually— Dylan: Go grab the cupcakes! I'll try and keep all this shit from following you! Right Head: —and that's why black socks have become more popular nowadays! [Robinson runs to Unit 73 and opens the door. A lone scientist is present, holding a suitcase. He turns to Robinson and screams.] Robinson: Get out! And give me that suitcase! [The scientist drops his suitcase and sprints away. Robinson picks it up and moves the cupcakes from SCP-8228 to it. He grabs SCP-8228 in his other hand.] Blank: Going somewhere? [Robinson turns around and sees Dr. Blank running at him, brandishing his badminton racket. Robinson dodges, but Blank continues to swing at him before striking him in the shoulder.] Robinson: Ow! [Blank takes advantage of the opening to hit him twice more, knocking him to the ground and spilling the cupcakes.] Blank: Enough! Stand down. [Robinson rises to his feet and hits him with the suitcase. Blank stumbles backwards, into the hallway.] Blank: Ow! [Blank regains his bearings, but before he can retaliate, URA-9127-43, a panther with a laser cannon in place of a head, tackles him. The pair slide a little ways down the hall before stopping, with Blank completely pinned by the arms. URA-9127-43's cannon begins charging.] URA-9127-43: Beginning primary weapon charge. Blank: Fuck! [Robinson runs out the door, taking a look at the pair before beginning to run away. Suddenly, he stops. Robinson stares ahead for a moment before turning around and sprinting towards Blank.] URA-9127-43: Five… four… three… two… one… [Robinson smacks URA-9127-43's cannon right before it finishes charging, causing it to miss Blank. The recoil launches it back, knocking the entity into the wall. Blank lies down, breathing heavily.] Blank: Thanks. [Robinson hits Blank in the head with the suitcase, knocking him out once more. He turns and runs back to the elevators. He encounters Broom and Dylan, who quickly follow suit.] Broom: Yippee! Just like Canada! Robinson: I got the cupcakes! How are we looking? Dylan: They're not stupid, we just caught them off-guard. We only have a few minutes before they get their bearings. Robinson: Then let's head out! [Robinson, Dylan, and Broom make their way to the Shark Punching Center's ship. As they do, their crew members follow suit. Once everyone has reached the ship, it begins sinking into Lake Huron before disappearing.] Addendum 8228.2: That evening, the Shark Punching Center deposited Robinson in Pennsylvania, where he and Broom first deposited SCP-8228 (save for one cupcake) at the Philadelphia MC&D outlet before going to the Martin Luther Nursing Home. Video footage7 captured his arrival. [Robinson walks into his grandmother's living room with Broom perched on his shoulder. Maria Robinson is seated in a chair, watching the news. She turns to Robinson and smiles, turning off the television.] Maria: Oh, Bill, I wasn't expecting you today! [Notices Broom.] And… oh… who's your… friend, here? Broom: I'm Broom! I'm a pigeon! Maria: Why, hello, Broom. Dear, what have you been doing this past week? Robinson: I'll explain it in a bit, grandma. But right now, I have something for you. [Robinson opens the suitcase and pulls out one of the cupcakes.] Robinson: For a while now, I've been thinking, you've just done so much for the world and lived such a great life, and I haven't really done any of that, and— Maria: Dear… Robinson: And seeing you like this, where nobody else cares about you and you're getting old and it's just not fair, so I started trying to find ways to help you and I found this and… well, it'll make you young again. [Robinson holds out the cupcake. A long silence passes.] Maria: This… cupcake… it makes me young? Robinson: Yeah. It'll heal you, grandma. And… you'll get to live again. Maria: Is there a catch? [Robinson is silent.] Maria: Bill. Answer me. [Tears begin falling from Robinson's eyes.] Robinson: It… I'll die. I can't lie to you grandma. But listen, you have so much to live for! You can continue being amazing! I've had a lot of time to think about it, grandma, and I don't have a life worth living, I'm not suicidal, but if I can give up my life for yours, I should— Maria: Tell me what happened. Robinson: Huh? Maria: How you got this. What you did. Robinson: I'm… I'm not sure we have time for that. Maria: We have all the time in the world, Bill. Tell me a story. [Brief pause.] Robinson: I mean… I guess it started at work. I decided to look up some stuff, see if… [Robinson recounts the story of how he came to obtain SCP-8228, including the fantastical elements. Broom occasionally pitches in to offer commentary or additional details, though his recollection of the events is inconsistent.] Robinson: …and then we came out of the water, and I rented a car and drove here. [Maria Robinson smiles at her grandson.] Maria: What a story. Robinson: I'm not sure if the Foundation is close behind or not, but you should probably eat them now, they might be here soon. [Maria holds the cupcake in her hand, gazing at it.] Maria: You're right, Bill. Robinson: I am? Maria: Oh yes. Your life… maybe I could do more with those extra years. Robinson: Yeah, you could. Maria: Your life being worth the same… I'm just not sure that's true anymore. [Robinson is silent.] Maria: In fact, it sounds like you haven't done anything interesting at all. [Long pause.] Robinson: Wait a minute. Are— are you making fun of me? [Maria bursts out laughing. After a few moments, she starts interspersing it with coughs, but she is still extremely amused.] Maria: Of course I'm making fun of you, Bill. You've just described the most fantastical adventure I've heard in my many long years of living, and were it not for the fact that you are my beloved grandson who I trust very much, I wouldn't have believed it. Robinson: Yeah but, even so… Maria: And all the friends you've made along the way! I knew my grandson was a charmer, but to think the impression you've made! Robinson: I didn't— Maria: Don't be stupid, Bill. That Dylan fellow would be dead if not for you. So would that shithead lab coat. And your little companion here… [Maria pets Broom's back.] Maria: …I think he'd agree you've helped him a great deal. Broom: I'm just glad I could be of use up in Alaska. Robinson: Broom, I didn't just care about you because you're useful. You're a good bird, and… [Robinson goes silent for a minute.] Maria: Now do you see? Robinson: I think so. Maria: Good. Robinson: Still… have I only just started living? Maria: We live every day, Bill. It just took you a while to realize that. Being kind in a selfish world, and having fun in a dreary time. [Robinson is silent for several minutes.] Maria: Now, you look like you've been through Hell — which you have — and I think you need some time to rest and think. Go! Get some rest, have a drink, whatever. And if those Foundation people come by, I'll make sure to chew them out for you. Addendum 8228.3: Following the above log, Robinson went to a local bar, where he remained for a few hours. [Robinson is sitting alone in a booth, staring at the bottle in his hand. Despite having been in the bar for multiple hours, his drink is still mostly full.] Blank: Room for one more? [Robinson looks up and sees Dr. Harold Blank standing by him. He takes a seat opposite Robinson and sighs.] Robinson: You're a long way from Canada. Blank: You know Pennsylvania and Canada border each other, right? 43's barely a state away from Philadelphia. Robinson: Mm. [Robinson takes a sip from his drink.] Robinson: Here to arrest me or amnesia me or whatever? Blank: Maybe. [The two sit in silence.] Blank: How's your bird friend… Broom? Broom: I'm right here! [Broom peeks out from underneath Robinson's suit coat and waves a wing.] Robinson: If you're not here to arrest me, then what? Blank: Never said what I'm here for. Just wanted to chat for right now. [The two are silent for several minutes.] Robinson: My grandma didn't take the cupcake. Blank: Seems that way. All that work and effort, I think most people would say you did it all for nothing. [Blank tilts his head slightly and stares at Robinson.] Blank: But what do you think? [Robinson stares down at the table.] Robinson: I don't think it was. Blank: Hm. [The two go silent again. Broom tucks himself into Robinson's jacket, seemingly falling asleep.] Robinson: So are you… you know. Blank: Punishing you? Robinson: Yeah. Blank: [Shrugs.] On the one hand, you're not gonna go after the cupcakes again, so you're not a liability anymore. Robinson: Mm. Blank: Of course, there's also the damage you caused on the way out. Not to mention that you know too much now. Oh yeah, and we'll have to deal with more of MC&D's bullshit. Robinson: I imagine things aren't looking too good for me. Blank: Depends. Robinson: On what? Blank: On whether or not I'm here to take you. Robinson: Is there a chance I've softened an old man's heart? Blank: Saving his life might do it. [The two go silent.] Robinson: You mind if I use the bathroom? Blank: Depends on if you plan on coming back. [Robinson stands up and adjusts his tie.] Blank: I've got an MTF stationed just outside, you know. I could have this place surrounded and you captured at a moment's notice. You gonna tell me why I shouldn't have them barge in here and take you away? Robinson: No. I mean, you probably should. But have I been nice enough to earn a quick break before you take me? Blank: Guess you have. So long as you're back here within the next ten minutes. Robinson: I think either way, I'll be seeing you again. [Robinson walks to the bathroom. Blank looks at Robinson's beer, then picks it up and drinks it all.] Ten minutes after the above log concluded, Dr. Blank ordered MTF Theta-28 to surround the building and detain Bill Robinson. However, he had apparently managed to escape through a bathroom window prior to the infiltration. Foundation personnel entered Maria Robinson's home and, aside from her insistence upon lecturing the agents on their attitudes and behavior, were able to safely retrieve the cupcake there. The remainder of SCP-8228 are in MC&D's possession; an operation to recover them is currently being drafted. Bill Robinson's current whereabouts are unknown. Footnotes 1. Women Airforce Service Pilots. 2. Bumblebee has been known to occasionally interact with anomalous entities, much like most large-scale non-anomalous companies, but likewise is not considered a threat to normalcy. 3. May be related to SCP-1678-B, though the correlation is unknown. 4. Likely an Avarice-class demon. 5. The Luxor. 6. Later investigation showed that the Shark Punching Center had fired anomalous Sudden Activation Drill missiles, a type of Foundation-developed missile which drills into the ground before detonating upon reaching its target. How the Center acquired these is unknown. 7. Following the initial incident at Site-43, Site-98 in Philadelphia was notified, and they were able to discreetly set up surveillance equipment around Maria Robinson's home, in case she had any additional involvement with the anomalous circumstances of Robinson's journey. + More by Calibold + - More by Calibold - Calibold's Mega Cool Author Page — SCP Articles — SCP-8421 — Ruler of Everything SCP-8228 — Here's To You, Mrs. Robinson SCP-7178 — A Thief In The Night SCP-7179 — E is for Eternity SCP-6469-D — A BABY????? SCP-2082 — Elephas cryophilus SCP-6156 — Oh, Doug! SCP-6579-D — The Detective Killer SCP-6900-D — The House of Stars SCP-5277 — What Can Go Wrong SCP-5363-D — Controlled Containment SCP-3482 — fine mayor posters campaign by dado SCP-5156 — monke Director Bold's Proposal-J — "Guys, please don't read our SCPs 🥺" SCP-2693 — Fell Into The Well, Fell Into The Well, Fell Into The Deep Dark Well SCP-5559-D — The Great Ambrose Bake-Off! SCP-3448-J — Should Have Taken Him Sleeping SCP-4456-D — No One Expects The Spanish Decommission! SCP-4745 — Spooky Scary Snowman SCP-4645 — Blackmailing Computer — Tales — OpusConfidant Wiki - SCP-4645 - Threatini Diary Of An Existential Kid Responsible Promotion Friends Of Us Never Die Truth Lies A Team You Can (Maybe) Trust Happy Father's Day Mission: Decommission A Bold Choice I Am Become Death Ulysses B. Donkman and the Heinous Hitman It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Eldritch Chapter One - The End — GoI Formats — Manifest 476: Vanishing Galleon The Book Of Mathisi, Chapter 1: The Parable Of The Three Princes LTE-8686-Yellow-Kewpie UIU File: 2001-023 — Other — Customizable ACS Add-On Ver. 1.8.0 Guide Decommissioning Department Hub Fortune Favors Decommissioning Dept. Theme Customizable ACS Add-On Ver. 1.8.0 Mega Cool Author Page Tool Ver. 1.4.0 Calibold's Mega Cool Alternate SCP Logos Page Calibold's Mega Cool Art Page — Co-Authored — Taste The Rainbow (feat. Luxaiko) Abraka David's Proposal — A Peak Behind the Curtain (feat. many other authors) SCP-7400 — Your Honor, League of Legends (feat. Sherf) I, Hub (feat. many other authors) Resurrection: New Faces (feat. Grigori Karpin, Nagiros, and redredred) SCP-5545 — 𝙰 𝙱 𝙽 𝙾 𝚁 𝙼 𝙰 𝙻 𝙸 𝚃 𝚈 (feat. Yossipossi) SCP-194 — Thank You For Your Cooperation (feat. CityToast) — Foreign — Director Bold's Proposal — Language SCP-LA-II — Fruit Here's To You, Mrs. Robinson ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8228" by Calibold, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8228. 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/calibri-bold-s-mega-cool-author-page/cupcake.jpg Name: Cheshire Cupcakes Author: Katjaskupcakes katja Seaton License: CC-by-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cheshire_cupcakes.jpg |
SCP-8233 | euclid | Please be aware that you are accessing the SCP-8233 file within the SCiPNet Database with a LEVEL 2 employee authorization code. SCP-8233's file requires LEVEL 4 authorization in order to obtain complete material. Accessing Foundation files with lower authorization levels may lead to the withholding, expungement and/or total removal of information for the safety of personnel, though all information present remains factually correct. If you have any questions regarding this and/or require clarification of any of the following data, please contact your corresponding Site Supervisor for an Information Request. Thank you. SCP-8233, aerial view, c. 1950. Photo found within facility proper. Item №: SCP-8233 Special Containment Procedures: Typical surveillance of SCP-8233 is to be done remotely via the Foundation-standard V.O.Y.E.U.R.I.S.T. drone network, with units prepared with both standard and incendiary armaments. Due to both its distance from surrounding settlements along with its significance, SCP-8233 does not require barriers or barricades of any kind as nearby locals will not approach it. SCP-8233 is not to be entered by personnel unless given L4 clearance by a Site Administrator. Personnel are not to enter SCP-8233 without wearing Foundation-standard PPE, here consisting of a full-████ ███ ████ prepped with fresh ██████ canisters. [INFORMATION OMITTED: INFECTION PROCEDURE] Further investigation of SCP-8233 is prohibited unless otherwise stated. Description: SCP-8233 is an isolated government facility located along the coast of the Khatanga (Хатанга) River, approx. 200 km northwest of the village of Novorybnaya (Новорыбная), all located within the far upper north of the district of Krasnoyarsk Krai (Красноя́рский Край), Russia. SCP-8233 shows signs of damage consistent with continuous disuse, abandonment, and neglect over a long period of time. SCP-8233's site proper holds a series of facility blocks that were presumably dedicated to documentation and research, with many rooms holding filing cabinets and desks emptied of their contents. A farther portion of the building leads to large-scale storage, with slightly separated faculties containing tools utilized in weapons manufacturing. The only room within SCP-8233 with an intact plaque is labelled "Лазарет",1 though it has also been completely cleared out of all materials and equipment. [INFORMATION OMITTED: SUB-LEVEL FORMAT] Recovered materials: A severely vandalized and sodden English copy of The Great Gatsby A severely vandalized and sodden journal written in Ukrainian An incomplete deck of cards A bloodstained handkerchief2 A 5-piece Reichspfennig coin A discarded pair of eyeglasses A chipped button3 Fragments of a chess board A rusted scalpel blade [INFORMATION OMITTED: SCP-8233-1] Discovery: SCP-8233 was located following the 1998 routine global anthropological assessment of urban legends and folklore. When overviewing documentation regarding folkloric practices that persisted in communities through the period of Soviet rule, various data points were located for potential investigation, specifically regarding nighttime-tales that were disseminated amongst the children of settlements within and south of Novorybnaya. A roughly-translated nursery rhyme reads as follows: 'Beware the men who watch and stare And do not shut your eyes. For they will think you're mocking them And bring on your demise.' Further research revealed this to be a piece of folklore passed down to the generations following the second World War, with the elderly insisting upon it as a protective fable used to teach children about the vulnerability and potential dangers brought upon by sleep. Further investigation revealed contradictory origins and a significant lack of evidence.4 Two agents were sent to the settlement in 2003 in order to interview locals and gauge anomalous activity, leading to the identification of SCP-8233 following the interrogation of the village's local government. After an extended and strenuous process,5 the anomaly was reported to Site-22 and a containment crew was dispatched. Five crude wooden crosses were discovered approx. 65 m behind SCP-8233's plot, stuck upright in the snow in a straight line. Exhumation of the immediate area recovered a gold wedding band and 217 additional wooden crosses. No human remains were found. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8233" by Quicksilvers, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8233. 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: airview.jpg Name: Deepfreeze I 018a.jpg Author: United States Navy License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Footnotes 1. Infirmary. 2. Presumed to be dyed brown upon initial discovery. 3. The ragged edge of object is also stained with blood. 4. [INFORMATION OMITTED: MORTUARY RECORDS] 5. [INFORMATION OMITTED: AGENT R. PAVLOVIC CAUSE OF DEATH] |
SCP-8235 | esoteric-class | The Foundation cracked magic just like physics before it. They have an equation for every spell, a constant for every rite. But what happens when magic doesn't play by the rules anymore? /* 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; } Anorrack/Plilt SCP-8235: Magic, Unchained (5214 words) Authors: Anorrack and Plilt Anorrack's Author Page Plilt's Wanderer's Library Author Page Articles you may enjoy: Voice of Rage and Ruin: Behind enemy lines in the Pacific. A resurrection ritual gone awry. Forget the others, can Kiran save himself? By Anorrack Dead Men Tell Tales: Florida's governor is kidnapped, and the UIU is on the case. How many corpses have the kidnappers left behind? By Anorrack And I Was Present at the Death of a God: A talk with a dying god. But nothing stays dead forever… By Plilt We Are Forgotten: A poem about evolution and the fall of giants. By Plilt NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION Due to recent events that have adversely affected critical Foundation infrastructure, the file you are about to read may be disorganized, corrupted, or incomplete. You may want to bookmark this file and return at a later date, or request a paper copy from the archives if one is available. — Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Item #: SCP-8235 Special Containment Procedures: Unified containment procedures for SCP-8235 are currently non-existent. SCP-8235 phenomena requiring active containment are classified under other SCP numbers. Containment should be conducted according to the Special Containment Procedures for the relevant entries. Declassification of SCP-8235 has been proposed and a decision is pending. The Foundation is to contribute funding to ICSUT to support and maintain a free distribution service and open-access archive regarding all past and present studies and papers on SCP-8235, in an effort to promulgate best practices to the anomalous community. As necessary, the Foundation will partner with state-affiliated GoIs to ensure that this information is readily available. Figure 1. Model microEVESpec of kinked narreme string cross-section around ontologically-pure silver. Note the low density and thickness of the string.1 Description: SCP-8235 is the sum collection of reality-altering phenomena colloquially known as magic or thaumaturgy (the study of which is known as thaumatology). For most of human history, SCP-8235 was unexplained and believed to be an anomalous phenomenon beyond the ability of science to understand. While some aspects of it were explained over time, most of it was not and was hidden from the public through the Veil Protocol. However, with the advent of Unified Thaumatological Theory in the 1970s, the creation of instruments capable of Elan-Vital Energy (EVE) spectroscopy, and advancements in string theory, the scientific basis for SCP-8235 began to be understood. In 2019, thaumatologists were able to derive a Grand Unified Theory of Thaumatology that explains all known magical phenomenon. While the precise equations and theorems have been modified and made more precise over the decades since, the Two Laws of Thaumotology still provide the underlying architecture for GUTT: Law of Contagion: The part affects the whole, and inversely, the whole affects the part. Law of Sympathy: Like produces like. As is currently understood at its most basic form, magic relies on the manipulation of reality-intersecting nth-dimensional information-dense WIMP2 strings called fabulons, capable of affecting consensus reality in a myriad of ways.3 Certain entities have the ability to control fabulons, allowing them to produce changes their immediate area. As a byproduct of this process, the fabulons release a flood of thaumatological radiation, in the form of quasiparticle pronons. This radiation can be detected by VERITAS imagers and has traditionally been referred to as aspect radiation,45 with a base unit of 1 kiloCasper (10 MeV/Fē).6 Backlash, as termed in thaumatology, is a wave of inverse-frequency aspect radiation, oftentimes producing harmful effects on the user or their environment. This can be thought of as "friction" as the fabulons move within the fabula, similar to the heat given off by dry friction. Because the backlash to any given working or ritual is directly inverse to the value of the working, wards may be put in place to redirect this byproduct, or even harness it in a feedback mechanism. Backlash decreases on an exponential scale, although it is less intense in areas with high Hume density due to the insulative nature of fabulons. Certain clusters of fabulons are conscious, or self-aware to a certain extent. While their properties and origins are not fully understood, it is theorized that there is are naturally-occurring and synthetic fabulon clusters.7 These strings can be thought of as self-willed stories and constantly produce virtual biblical particles in addition to fundamental narrative particles.8 The mutual constant annihilation of the virtual biblical particles results in Akiva radiation, which is both indicative of divine presence and lethal to human life in sufficient quantities. Low levels of Akiva radiation constantly suffuse every narrative where Akiva strings exist, but there are spikes when Akiva strings are nearby or actively affecting consensus reality. Fabulon density can be measured through the constant radiation of narrativistic particles, which can be detected using a Kant counter (1 Hume = 13.4 Fē/m4). Type Greens can destroy fabulons in their surroundings, allowing them to impose their own will on reality. This weakens reality, and sufficient numbers of Type Greens can lead to a localized ZK-Class Reality Failure Scenario. The Scranton Reality Anchor counters this effect by synthesizing artificial fabulons by rapidly oscillating a crystal of ontologically-pure galena through a nickel-chromium wire coil. The systematization of thaumatology has allowed normalcy organizations across the globe to take great strides in both protecting the Veil from myriad threats. It has also engendered revolutions in manufacturing, software development, economics, agriculture, and many other sectors, producing mundane products at low cost and improving quality of life worldwide. Normalcy organizations have prepared information packets and low-level demonstrations for mundane researchers in preparation for the declassification of SCP-8235. As this article is just a summary of the field as a whole, further reading on the proofs, studies, and other miscellaneous topics on the subject can be found at local.arxiv.scipnet/thm. PROJECT: SIREN PROPOSAL With the complete understanding of SCP-8235 achieved, total surveillance of the anomalous is now possible. The proposed Project SIREN would use an array of geosynchronous/polar orbit satellites, land-based sensors, and oceanic sensor buoys to monitor all anomalous activity on the planet. This would allow the immediate detection of extradimensional intrusions into Earth, real-time tracking of PoIs, and the locating of any SCPs currently outside the Foundation's control. The project in its fullest extent would be carried out through Casper, Hume, Akiva9 Multi-vector Probes (CHAMPs), a full sensor suite capable of multi-spectrum analysis of thaumaturgical and divine energies worldwide. However, as a dry run for the project, we propose a scaled-down version of SIREN, Near-Earth eveSpec Survey (NESS), to act as a proof of concept. NESS will consist of three geosynchronous and two polar-orbiting satellites. Proposal: APPROVED SIREN Documentation: CHAMP EVEspec image of Cairo, Illinois. Red hotspots indicates strong EVE signature from night life and traffic. The maroon in the right is a calibration error, as the forest should not be able to produce that high of an EVE signature. The full SIREN Array was completed in late 2024 and went online January 3, 2025. It consists of a constellation of twenty satellites in geostationary orbit and over a thousand oceanic sensor buoys and land-based sensors (generally located at or near Foundation outposts). The produced data is analyzed by Panopticon.aic, a dedicated custom-built Foundation artificial intelligence. Any noteworthy readings are sent to the Intelligence Agency and ETTRA. The sensor logs are available upon request. While the existence of CHAMPs is known to the anomalous community, the Foundation officially denies any existence of the SIREN Array. Foundation employees should disavow any knowledge of Project SIREN. Notable SIREN readings, first three days of operation: Satlink Values Timestamped Connection Status Notes SIRENL_130, Mecca, Saudi Arabia 140 kCasp, 14 Akiva, 20.3 pHume 13:20:12 January 3, 2025 CONFIRMED Lower than reference locations, but within normal values. SIRENL_231, Fushimi Inari-taisha,10 Japan 124 kCasp, 1 Akiva, 21.7 pHume 15:43:56 January 3, 2025 CONFIRMED Exceptionally low Akiva value. SIRENS_086, Jay Em, Wyoming 136 kCasp, -59 Akiva, 85.3 pHume 18:32:18 CONFIRMED Imminent Tartarean event suspected. MTF Mu-0 dispatched. SIRENO_138, Boston, Massachusetts 245 kCasp, 3 Akiva, 13.8 pHume 01:57:12 January 4, 2025 CONFIRMED Abnormally high readings. May represent increase in Way traffic. SIRENS_014, Môa River, Acre, Brazil 196 kCasp, 5 Akiva, 85.3 pHume 09:07:58 January 4, 2025 CONFIRMED Abnormally high Hume and Casper readings. No apparent cause. Investigation underway. SIRENL_102, Salt Lake City, Utah 0 kCasp, 0 Akiva, 0 pHume 12:00:00 January 29, 2025 CAUTION Presumed to be an error. Data discarded. SIRENL_109, San Francisco, California 0 kCasp, 0 Akiva, 0 pHume 12:00:00 January 29, 2025 CAUTION Presumed to be an error. Data discarded. 40 Identical Values Omitted Presumed to be an error. Data discarded. SIRENL_162, Vatican City 249 kCasp, 18 Akiva, 149 pHume 17:43:40 January 4, 2025 CONFIRMED Within normal values. SIRENL_199, Rovaniemi, Finland 128 kCasp, 7 Akiva, 2.5 pHume 02:16:23 January 5, 2025 CONFIRMED Critically low Hume values. MTF Omega-12 dispatched to strengthen reality with SRAs and terminate responsible Type Greens. SIRENL_130, Mecca, Saudi Arabia 140 kCasp, 0 Akiva, 20.3 pHume 12:47:13 January 5, 2025 CONFIRMED MTF ETA-77 dispatched. No anomalies reported. Contacts with Horizon Initiative report nothing out of the ordinary. Possible calibration error. The full Project SIREN array has now been running for one year and has been remarkably successful. The array has allowed us to locate seventeen additional SCP objects and avert one potential XK-Class scenario. In addition, the array's real-time monitoring has greatly improved our relationship mapping of rival organizations, enabling the break-up of several Sarkic cults. Additional funding for Project SIREN has been approved. However, calibration issues have been a persistent flaw for Project SIREN and they have become a severe, persistent error, only growing worse with time. Recalibration now occurs once every 24 hours. The Project SIREN team believes this to be both due to the sensitivity of the instruments involved and a bias in the data set used to calibrate the sensors in the first place. They intend to correct this in the next model of CHAMPs. In addition, they will be integrating new technology into SIREN--the Omnistabilization Anchoring Node (OAN).11 The next generation of CHAMPs will not only detect anomalous phenomena, they will be able to eliminate it. Incidentview, page 1 of 4: INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT CRIMSON EYE DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2026/03/24 At 8:48 (local time) March 24, 2026, high levels of anomalous activity were reported in the town of Bend, Wisconsin. Initial reports describe the snow turning blue, two moons visible in the morning sky, and asphalt being overgrown with pulsating wildflowers and grasses. While this is consistent with critically low Hume values, the CHAMP unit at the Foundation outpost in town reported no change in values. Believing the CHAMP unit to be miscalibrated and unable to identify the cause of the phenomenon, Captain Gerald Simmons took charge and ordered the activation of the OAN at 9:01. The theory of operation for OAN units held that miscalibration of the CHAMPs should not matter, as OANs merely return local values to baseline levels. Even if the CHAMP couldn't detect the change in thaumaturgical values, the OAN should still be able to normalize the region. Anti-lightning effects after INCIDENT CRIMSON EYE, localized around SIRENL_129 in Wisconsin. Darkflashes persist for five days after the incident, amnesticization of full population considered infeasible. Upon activation, anti-lightning and darkflashes began emitting from SIRENL_129, leeching color from the area and draining electrical current from struck objects.12 Anomalous phenomena worsened in the area, with variable number of suns reported, and all snow igniting with a blue heatless flame that converted what it burned to ice. Due to the brick construction of much of the town and earlier snowmelt the damage was relatively constrained to the downtown area, but several groves of trees turned to ice and five buildings collapsed, leading to the deaths of 34 people, including the technicians operating the OAN and Captain Simmons. While the other Foundation personnel were unharmed, they were unable to reach the OAN to deactivate it. At 11:25, additional anomalous phenomena were reported. The pews, cross, and minister of the First Methodist Church spontaneously transmogrified into swarms of eastern tiger swallowtails, the stained glass of the windows morphing to exhibit insectoid patterns. Several anomalous items in storage at the outpost began to show changed or increased anomalous properties. AI-1359867 had previously been a key capable of opening any lock. During Incident CRIMSON EYE, it emitted flashes of red light every ninety minutes, during which random buildings in Bend would spatially invert. Roads leading to Bend would rearrange, preventing help from arriving. These events continued even after the initial anomalous phenomena dissipated at 16:38. Power to the OAN would finally be cut at 17:34. This returned AI-1359867 to its previous state. Lightning strikes neutralized most of the butterfly swarms, though repeated strikes on the First Methodist Church had minimal effect.13 The Foundation was able to set up checkpoints and occupy governmental buildings, but due to the infrastructure damage was unable to fully secure the town with available assets. SUMMARY: Executive action was taken, without consultation with the Regional Site Director. 34 people died during the event, 6 of which were Foundation personnel. The rest were civilians. All CHAMPs in the region, even those carried by the rescue teams from the surrounding area, registered no Triad values deviating from the norm during the duration of the events of CRIMSON EYE. Notably, activation of the OAN exacerbated anomalous activity, rather than neutralizing the effects. RECOMMENDATIONS: Decommissioning and testing of all OANs and CHAMPs in the Midwest region to vet their reliability and calibration. Re-examine calibration data, reaffirming baseline values in standardized testing locations. Update CHAMP integration software and bring into line with current Foundation standards. Reaffirm chain-of-command protocol with regional staff and personnel. BROKEN ABACUS Incident Inquiry 026 Interviewer: Linda Larson, Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee Interviewed: Agostino Veronesi, JOVE Begin Transcript Excerpt I used to be into history before I got this gig. Classics, Roman Republic era, mostly. Prime PhD candidate, so I'm told. Did you know the Romans used to mass manufacture curse tablets? Hell, they worked for the most part, too, according to witness accounts. But ICSUT could never crack them. They weren't "made right." They didn't work according to "the model." Who cares if they didn't work in the model if they actually worked in the field? Anyways, shortly after curse tablet production got into full swing, Rome burnt to the ground. Kinda bit them in the ass, in the end. Pushed a good thing too far, and it snapped back. What does this have to do with BROKEN ABACUS? Hell if I know, I'm just rambling… End Transcript Excerpt INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT YELLOW EYE DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2026/07/20 For several months prior to the incident, high levels of cult activity were reported in the city of Anchorage, Alaska, as well as in the surrounding region of Southcentral Alaska. At 12:00 (local time) July 20th, 2026, an unidentified man (initially reported to police as a crazed vagrant) walked onto Kincaid Beach in Anchorage, Alaska. He was belligerent towards passersby and wild animals that drew near until he found a piece of driftwood and began to draw a large, intricate ritual circle in the sand. At 12:15, local police and embedded UIU elements approached the scene, observing the man "frantically dancing" and shouting in a "scraping" language. Storm clouds grew overhead, though the sky had been clear minutes before. At 12:17, officers attempted to detain the vagrant, but were repelled by an unseen force. Through police body-cams and witness testimony, it is known that the vagrant withdrew a lighter from his pocket and ignited it. The spark jumped off of the lighter and began to ricochet around the ritual circle, growing larger and accelerating with each reflection, until it became a swirling inferno, consuming the man entirely. For every seventh full rotation the inferno completed, it grew in size. The police unit dispatched lost three officers before retreating to a safe location. Image captured from cockpit of Pilot Leviticus Jefferson depicting destruction of wingman Pilot Samuel Doyle's aircraft. The fire continued to grow until reaching a height at fifty feet at 12:45. At that point, the inferno lanced out at a 45 degree angle over the inlet, and was observed to impact something invisible in the air. Fog formed swirling fractals around the area until the projectile punched through and disappeared into a large "hole" over the ocean. At 12:50, UIU elements reported a large, unidentified, amorphous entity passing through the Way and falling into the ocean. At 13:10, 3rd Wing aircraft were deployed from Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson (JBER) to survey the incident, reporting boiling water and movement below the waves. Tentacles lashed out from the ocean and struck down one F-22 Raptor, killing the pilot. The entity began to move towards Anchorage. At 13:23 the entity was liquidated by an additional squadron deployed from JBER. No additional anomalous activity was observed that day. SUMMARY: 30,000 civilians in Anchorage and the surrounding communities observed the anomalous incident. JBER was forced to deploy [CLASSIFIED] to protect the Veil. The manifestation and Way reported were inconsistent with the described ritual, not obeying conventional GUTT in terms of power requirements and necessary components. Similarly, the exponential backlash cascade leading up to the creation of the Way should be impossible in all but the most specific of laboratory conditions, as backlash almost universally decays over time. In parallel to CRIMSON EYE, Foundation elements reported no deviation in local Triad values, except during JBER's [CLASSIFIED]. RECOMMENDATIONS: Teardowns and in-depth refits of regional CHAMPs to fit with current standards and calibrations, with on-the-minute normalized regional references for fabula stabilization. Reaffirm the Nassau Accords with American liaisons and other signatories. Organize an investigative working body to look into into the cause of anomalous thaumaturgical events like those of YELLOW and CRIMSON EYE. Lobby for stronger theistic and anti-heretic legislation in America, Canada, and Mexico. BROKEN ABACUS Incident Inquiry 015 Interviewer: Linda Larson, Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee Interviewed: Hal Everill, SCP Foundation Begin Transcript Excerpt The CHAMPs? They worked great. At first. IT hated the bastards, they were so swingy with their predictions, honestly would have better luck flipping a coin or throwing a dart at a map on some days. But then it would nail a guy in Afghanistan or something who was building a magic nuke, ready to start Occult War VIII, and then all wrongs were forgotten. Honestly should have been the writing on the wall… […] The proposal? We were pressed for time. O5s wanted an answer we couldn't possibly give for a question we couldn't possibly know. So we came up with one that we thought would stick, one that was too big for the O5s to possibly want to rubberstamp… why did they do it? […] You want my opinion? The Raspberry Pi. That was why it failed. It should have been Bard, or one of the .aics, something with computing power, y'know, to handle the energy requirements… But I was shot down at the drawing board, the working theory being that the lower the specs, the less complex the working needed for uplift. If the Apollo landings were done with the computing power of a smart fridge, who was I to argue? … Who am I to say now? Now I'm just a guy with a useless degree… End Transcript Excerpt INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT BLACK EYE DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2027/01/10 At 02:58 (local time) Security Camera B-6 showed visual distortions in a hallway at Site-34, followed by the apparent conversion of the eastern half of the hallway into an urban alleyway. This was only visible on B-6; other security cameras in the hallway showed no anomalous activity. The onsite CHAMP unit showed no anomalous readings at this time. A mix of human and non-human intruders14 emerged from the alleyway, apparently appearing out of thin air to the other cameras. As the fourth figure emerged, the onsite CHAMP unit (attached to SIRENL_614) showed a decrease in pHume readings consistent with a weak Type Green. After seven intruders exited the alleyway, the hallway appeared to return to normal and the intruders began to head to low-security anomalous item storage. Security guards noticed the intruders at 02:59 and initiated lockdown procedures. They attempted to seal off the area remotely, but PoI-8235-4, the Type Green, converted large sections of the bulkheads to filings. This jammed the bulkhead mechanisms and prevented them from deploying correctly. Bulkheads 15 and 17 were partly converted only once they had lowered, delaying security teams. Tactical Response operatives began cutting through the bulkheads with plasma cutters. The intruders reached anomalous item storage at 03:04. PoI-8235-6 deactivated security protocols and opened all doors through unknown means; no fluctuations in the CHAMP readings were detected at this point. While PoIs -1 and -3 stood guard, -2, -5, and -7 began sorting through anomalous items. Invaders retained twenty-five items and destroyed eight using a combination of reality warping and an unknown form of thaumaturgy that engulfed objects in red sparks and disintegrated them. No backlash was observed and there was no apparent energy source being used for the thaumaturgy. While the CHAMP displayed standard Hume fluctuations when -4 used its abilities, no changes in Triad values were observed when -6 used its thaumaturgy. At 03:07, the on-site OAN was activated. -4's reality-bending abilities stopped working immediately, stopping them in the middle of erasing an anomalous sculpture from existence. -6 was unaffected. PoIs conversed. At 03:10, -6 placed its hands on the south wall, near a major power cable. Several seconds later the OAN suffered a fatal error. Technicians began the reboot process. At 03:15, security teams breached the bulkheads and began advancing towards the vaults. PoIs -1, -2, and -3 then moved to the back of anomalous item storage and began to perform a ritual while the other PoIs established positions near the entrance. Nearing storage, personnel encountered an unknown physical force that resisted their forward progress, but was unable to fully stop their advance. At 03:17, personnel engaged the PoIs. -4 used its reality bending abilities to cause eye irritation, blinding security. -6 used thaumaturgy to attack officers who were out of cover. Video evidence shows purple sparks intercepting incoming rounds and disintegrating Foundation personnel. The CHAMP showed slight decreases in Hume levels but no change in kiloCasper values. At 3:19, the OAN was rebooted and reactivated. -4's abilities were blocked, restoring personnel's vision, but -6's thaumaturgy was unaffected by the OAN. At 03:20, PoIs -1, -2, and -3 completed their ritual and converted the back wall of anomalous item storage into the same alleyway they had arrived through. No backlash was observed. Triad readings did not fluctuate, though on-site gravimetric sensors reported a 0.05% decrease in gravity. All PoIs exfiltrated and the back wall returned to normal. SUMMARY: Antagonists involved in BLACK EYE executed thaumaturgical workings deemed impossible within physical GUTT restraints and conventional power/energy requirements. Such acts, if promulgated, could be destructive to normalcy organizations and/or revolutionize our understanding of thaumaturgical capabilities. Effects on PoI-8235-4 and anomalies housed on-site confirm that the OAN was activated, but -6's thaumaturgy and -1, -2, and -3's ritual was not affected. Based on video logs, they did not appear to realize that the OAN had been activated until informed by -4. Again, CHAMP readings were not consistent with eyewitness reports and observed damages. Systems and subsystems are to be analyzed for hitherto-unknown design flaws or hardware limitations. RECOMMENDATIONS: Pending. To All Relevant Personnel and Contractors: The Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee (ITIC) conference to be rescheduled and convene ASAP. Findings are to be presented and summarized to O5 Council and other leadership bodies in paper and digital form. Memo to the O5 Council After several months of diligent work, a team of Foundation, ICSUT, and JOVE researchers has concluded that while GUTT is a valid model for the workings of magic, it may not remain so indefinitely. The errors and skewed data that has been observed since the launch of the SIREN system is correlative, but not causative. The SIREN system merely allowed us to view a process that was already occurring: The constants of magic are shifting. This is not an unfamiliar idea in physics as a whole. There are several theories that posit fundamental physical constants may change over time, such as the gravitational constant or the half-life of a proton. However, those changes are theorized to be minute, happening over a time scale of billions, if not trillions of years. That is not the case here. Our models show that the constants that undergird GUTT, such as Dostoevsky's Number, Le Guin's Constant, as well as several others, are changing, at an average rate of several hundredths per year. This rate can be successfully mapped to several factors, such as population growth, rate of anomalous incidents, median OECD GDP per capita, and other frivolous causes, though it may be impossible to define for certain. However, we have a proposed solution. Utilizing the Rite of Solomon, we can go even below the fundamental constants, and change the equations that govern the constants themselves. As such, we can prevent this gradual shift from occuring, and preserve our current understanding of thaumaturgy as a whole. But this would require swift and decisive action, as we do not currently understand how a large constant shift may affect the Rite of Solomon, or even render it ineffective. Because of this, our proposal should not and cannot be delayed. Proposal: APPROVED PROJECT: ERA DUSK INITIATED SITE LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT SITE LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT This is an automated message being broadcast on the emergency HOTLINE system. If you are reading this, the infrastructure for your Site has been CRITICALLY damaged. Lockdown will continue until repairs can be commenced and regular activity may resume. Please stay calm and follow the directions of your Division Supervisor, or consult the Emergency Operations Manual for additional instructions until such a time as our $$ Crisis Way Network Remove From Broadcast$$ can reestablish connection to your Site. Lockdown is in effect for Site-01, Site-02, Site-03, Site-04, Site-05, Site-06, Site-07… Show 92 additional entries? INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT BROKEN ABACUS DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2027/12/21 Begin Transcript 23:20: Cameras and blackbox audio are activated and reveal an expansive warehouse, filled with humming machinery and bustling scientists. Seven large wooden crates are wheeled in under guard of MTF Alpha-1 ("Red Right Hand"), stamped with the logos of various GOIs. 23:34: The ritual circle is prepared, [CLASSIFIED UNDER THE KÖLN AGREEMENT]. The camera and audio crackle from EVE exposure as SCP-3457-B1 through -B7 are lifted out of their crates. The memetic SCRAMBLE blinders on one scientist fail, reducing him to ash. The ritual proceeds. 23:47: Glass and metal rattles as a storm brews outside of the warehouse, drawn by the ley-lines and the gathering of the Keys. The ritual proceeds. 23:50: The low pressure and ozone alter the calculations, and the scientists attempt to compensate for the changing variables. The SCP-3457 candidate is removed from its container and placed within [CLASSIFIED UNDER THE KÖLN AGREEMENT]. The ritual proceeds. 00:00: The ritual proceeds. Winds are clocked to 48 mph outside the warehouse. The screams of the damned are heard. SIRENS_173 detects the corresponding spike in Akiva radiation. 00:00: SIRENS_005 reports a spike in Akiva radiation. 00:00: SIRENS_321 reports a spike in Akiva radiation. 00:00: SIRENS_049 reports a spike in Akiva radiation. [396 IDENTICAL REPORTS OMITTED] 00:01: SIREN Array crashes. SIREN Watchgroup attempts to reboot. 00:02: The ritual proceeds. SCP-3457 candidate begins to deconceptualize. 00:04: Fluctuations detected in C_OAN_12-17. Ticket issued to IT. 00:04: C_OAN-5-01 ceases functionality. Bound Type-Green resumes activity. 00:05: Site-01 HOTLINE reports a containment breach. 00:06: The ritual proceeds. 00:08: Site-666 HOTLINE reports a Tartarean Incursion, Code BLACK. 00:09: Multiple Sites HOTLINE report partial-or-total digital infrastructure collapse due to malfunctioning electronics. All established Faustian bargains with the Foundation are anomalously nullified. 00:07: The ritual proceeds. Casualties within permissible limits. 00:10: SIREN Array is restored to full functionality. Crashes immediately after issuing a global alert of low Akiva radiation levels. Watchgroup attempts a second reboot. 00:10: SCP-3457 candidate fully deconceptualizes, no longer visible to the unsanctified eye. 00:12: Site-666 is lost. 00:13: Site-01 is lost. 00:13: The O5 Council is assembled. Motion to halt PROJECT ERA DUSK is dismissed 1-12. 00:14: The ritual proceeds. 00:15: The ritual ends. O5-2 is lost. The Keys are lost. 12 Sites are lost. 10% of ERA DUSK personnel are lost. 2% of Foundation personnel worldwide are lost. 00:17: SIREN Array is restored to full functionality. Crashes immediately, reporting global Triad levels of 0. Watchgroup is unable to reboot it. Handheld units generally confirm reports, though they do show slight, irregular fluctuations around anything that formerly had particularly high readings. 00:30: ICSUT Prague detonates in a twenty-ton explosion leveling two square blocks. Eventually tracked to a runaway reaction within its experimental thaumaturgical tokamak fusion reactor. 842 casualties, 212 fatalities. Most students were away on holiday. 00:45: 72% of the residents of SCP-5525-Byzantine were found to be regressed to the biological age of seven. [23,555 OTHER BROKEN ABACUS-INDUCED INCIDENTS OMITTED FOR BREVITY] 05:00: BROKEN ABACUS-induced incidents begin to subside. OANs rendered largely ineffective. Most anomalies appear entirely unaffected. Clean-up operations begin, with the Foundation, GOC, and national normalcy organizations working jointly to enact disinformation protocols. Veil breaches are widespread but judged not to threaten the Veil as a whole if prompt action is taken. End Transcript BROKEN ABACUS Incident Inquiry 033 Interviewer: Linda Larson, Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee Interviewed: Dr. Gerald Martin, formerly of the ICUST Begin Transcript Excerpt "Don't let facts get in the way of a good theory." We usually say it to mock people, but we were doing the same thing, weren't we? There was stuff that didn't seem to fit into the model and we always knew it. But it seemed so beautiful it had to be true, and the O5s were riding our asses and wanted something now. And so we figured that the approach was right, it just needed… tweaking. I can't be too hard on the others; they'd usually be right. Just look at the neutrinos. […] General consensus is that we broke magic. That's why SRAs don't work against most of the stuff they used to, it's why Akiva readings are always zero, it's why GUTT doesn't work any longer. I think they're wrong, though, I don't think it ever really worked. Maybe it was just incomplete or maybe we were going down the wrong path entirely, but we tried to mess with reality because we thought we understood it and we didn't. Under GUTT, the Rite of Solomon shouldn't have worked like that. Even if it failed like it did--and according to GUTT, it shouldn't have--it shouldn't have made Akiva readings hit zero while doing nothing to Fushimi Inari-taisha or Mecca. Why did it hit GUTT but not OTT, TIOM, or all the other crackpot methodologies? The point of the ritual is to affect all magic. […] No, I don't know why the ritual failed like it did. I just don't tell myself that I do, or that we can figure it out using the same ideas that got us into this mess. End Transcript Excerpt Item #: SCP-8235 Special Containment Procedures: All existing theories are being reevaluated. Final collated output of the SIREN Array prior to indefinitely crashing. Analysis ongoing. Description: SCP-8235 is the sum collection of reality-altering phenomena colloquially known as magic. This phenomena does not obey any broad, encompassing laws, beyond traditional, thematic conditions (e.g. a curse lasting a year and a day, ritual components requiring esoteric substances like "the beard of a woman"). Artifacts created using SCP-8235 do not function properly under laboratory conditions. Thaumaturgical machinery and instruments no longer function as designed, and are unable to be repaired. The situation is being assessed. Footnotes 1. Edgar, J. E., Roberts, H. T., Xyank, T., et al. (2007). Ontological density of materials, utilizing advancements in MicroEVESpec. Journal of Narrativistics, 3(10), 24-43. 2. Weakly Interacting Massive Particles. 3. Edgar, J. E., Roberts, H. T., Joyce, P. P., and Storstrand, E. E. (2012). Narrative-thaumatological cosmic strings: An analysis of the indirect evidence. Journal of Narrativistics, 2(4), 209-214. 4. Elan-Vital Energy (EVE) is a lower frequency than typical aspect radiation, analogous to infrared on the light spectrum, emanated by living beings as they pass through and observe the fabulon fabric. 5. A prior categorizing system denoted the value axes of aspect radiation momentum as Hue, Pitch, and Weave, though that system has since been deprecated in favor for a more standardized and simplified notation. 6. Standardized unit equivalent to the aspect radiation created through transmuting 1 cubic meter of water to wine. 7. Edgar J., Robert A. H., and Hunter P. P. (1996). Faith and the creation of gods. The Holy Papers of the Silicon Nornir, 5(4), 10-54. 8. Hunter P. P and Gould D. A. (2021). A metafictional analysis of the Dialogue of St. Eric. Foundation Journal of Tactical Theology, 31(1), 406-425. 9. Informally known as the "Magic Triad" units. 10. One of the most important shrines to the kami Inari Okami. 11. A recently developed device that combines SRA technology, an antimonadic field, and adaptive harmonic dampening and cancellation paratechnology to emit an anti-thaumaturgical field. 12. In living beings, this led to the total cessation of brain activity. 13. Apparently due to the Church's particularly well-constructed lightning rod. 14. Designated PoI-8235-1 through -7. Later identified as members of a Hand-affiliated militant indigenous group. |
SCP-8235 | uncontained | The Foundation cracked magic just like physics before it. They have an equation for every spell, a constant for every rite. But what happens when magic doesn't play by the rules anymore? /* 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; } Anorrack/Plilt SCP-8235: Magic, Unchained (5214 words) Authors: Anorrack and Plilt Anorrack's Author Page Plilt's Wanderer's Library Author Page Articles you may enjoy: Voice of Rage and Ruin: Behind enemy lines in the Pacific. A resurrection ritual gone awry. Forget the others, can Kiran save himself? By Anorrack Dead Men Tell Tales: Florida's governor is kidnapped, and the UIU is on the case. How many corpses have the kidnappers left behind? By Anorrack And I Was Present at the Death of a God: A talk with a dying god. But nothing stays dead forever… By Plilt We Are Forgotten: A poem about evolution and the fall of giants. By Plilt NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION Due to recent events that have adversely affected critical Foundation infrastructure, the file you are about to read may be disorganized, corrupted, or incomplete. You may want to bookmark this file and return at a later date, or request a paper copy from the archives if one is available. — Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Item #: SCP-8235 Special Containment Procedures: Unified containment procedures for SCP-8235 are currently non-existent. SCP-8235 phenomena requiring active containment are classified under other SCP numbers. Containment should be conducted according to the Special Containment Procedures for the relevant entries. Declassification of SCP-8235 has been proposed and a decision is pending. The Foundation is to contribute funding to ICSUT to support and maintain a free distribution service and open-access archive regarding all past and present studies and papers on SCP-8235, in an effort to promulgate best practices to the anomalous community. As necessary, the Foundation will partner with state-affiliated GoIs to ensure that this information is readily available. Figure 1. Model microEVESpec of kinked narreme string cross-section around ontologically-pure silver. Note the low density and thickness of the string.1 Description: SCP-8235 is the sum collection of reality-altering phenomena colloquially known as magic or thaumaturgy (the study of which is known as thaumatology). For most of human history, SCP-8235 was unexplained and believed to be an anomalous phenomenon beyond the ability of science to understand. While some aspects of it were explained over time, most of it was not and was hidden from the public through the Veil Protocol. However, with the advent of Unified Thaumatological Theory in the 1970s, the creation of instruments capable of Elan-Vital Energy (EVE) spectroscopy, and advancements in string theory, the scientific basis for SCP-8235 began to be understood. In 2019, thaumatologists were able to derive a Grand Unified Theory of Thaumatology that explains all known magical phenomenon. While the precise equations and theorems have been modified and made more precise over the decades since, the Two Laws of Thaumotology still provide the underlying architecture for GUTT: Law of Contagion: The part affects the whole, and inversely, the whole affects the part. Law of Sympathy: Like produces like. As is currently understood at its most basic form, magic relies on the manipulation of reality-intersecting nth-dimensional information-dense WIMP2 strings called fabulons, capable of affecting consensus reality in a myriad of ways.3 Certain entities have the ability to control fabulons, allowing them to produce changes their immediate area. As a byproduct of this process, the fabulons release a flood of thaumatological radiation, in the form of quasiparticle pronons. This radiation can be detected by VERITAS imagers and has traditionally been referred to as aspect radiation,45 with a base unit of 1 kiloCasper (10 MeV/Fē).6 Backlash, as termed in thaumatology, is a wave of inverse-frequency aspect radiation, oftentimes producing harmful effects on the user or their environment. This can be thought of as "friction" as the fabulons move within the fabula, similar to the heat given off by dry friction. Because the backlash to any given working or ritual is directly inverse to the value of the working, wards may be put in place to redirect this byproduct, or even harness it in a feedback mechanism. Backlash decreases on an exponential scale, although it is less intense in areas with high Hume density due to the insulative nature of fabulons. Certain clusters of fabulons are conscious, or self-aware to a certain extent. While their properties and origins are not fully understood, it is theorized that there is are naturally-occurring and synthetic fabulon clusters.7 These strings can be thought of as self-willed stories and constantly produce virtual biblical particles in addition to fundamental narrative particles.8 The mutual constant annihilation of the virtual biblical particles results in Akiva radiation, which is both indicative of divine presence and lethal to human life in sufficient quantities. Low levels of Akiva radiation constantly suffuse every narrative where Akiva strings exist, but there are spikes when Akiva strings are nearby or actively affecting consensus reality. Fabulon density can be measured through the constant radiation of narrativistic particles, which can be detected using a Kant counter (1 Hume = 13.4 Fē/m4). Type Greens can destroy fabulons in their surroundings, allowing them to impose their own will on reality. This weakens reality, and sufficient numbers of Type Greens can lead to a localized ZK-Class Reality Failure Scenario. The Scranton Reality Anchor counters this effect by synthesizing artificial fabulons by rapidly oscillating a crystal of ontologically-pure galena through a nickel-chromium wire coil. The systematization of thaumatology has allowed normalcy organizations across the globe to take great strides in both protecting the Veil from myriad threats. It has also engendered revolutions in manufacturing, software development, economics, agriculture, and many other sectors, producing mundane products at low cost and improving quality of life worldwide. Normalcy organizations have prepared information packets and low-level demonstrations for mundane researchers in preparation for the declassification of SCP-8235. As this article is just a summary of the field as a whole, further reading on the proofs, studies, and other miscellaneous topics on the subject can be found at local.arxiv.scipnet/thm. PROJECT: SIREN PROPOSAL With the complete understanding of SCP-8235 achieved, total surveillance of the anomalous is now possible. The proposed Project SIREN would use an array of geosynchronous/polar orbit satellites, land-based sensors, and oceanic sensor buoys to monitor all anomalous activity on the planet. This would allow the immediate detection of extradimensional intrusions into Earth, real-time tracking of PoIs, and the locating of any SCPs currently outside the Foundation's control. The project in its fullest extent would be carried out through Casper, Hume, Akiva9 Multi-vector Probes (CHAMPs), a full sensor suite capable of multi-spectrum analysis of thaumaturgical and divine energies worldwide. However, as a dry run for the project, we propose a scaled-down version of SIREN, Near-Earth eveSpec Survey (NESS), to act as a proof of concept. NESS will consist of three geosynchronous and two polar-orbiting satellites. Proposal: APPROVED SIREN Documentation: CHAMP EVEspec image of Cairo, Illinois. Red hotspots indicates strong EVE signature from night life and traffic. The maroon in the right is a calibration error, as the forest should not be able to produce that high of an EVE signature. The full SIREN Array was completed in late 2024 and went online January 3, 2025. It consists of a constellation of twenty satellites in geostationary orbit and over a thousand oceanic sensor buoys and land-based sensors (generally located at or near Foundation outposts). The produced data is analyzed by Panopticon.aic, a dedicated custom-built Foundation artificial intelligence. Any noteworthy readings are sent to the Intelligence Agency and ETTRA. The sensor logs are available upon request. While the existence of CHAMPs is known to the anomalous community, the Foundation officially denies any existence of the SIREN Array. Foundation employees should disavow any knowledge of Project SIREN. Notable SIREN readings, first three days of operation: Satlink Values Timestamped Connection Status Notes SIRENL_130, Mecca, Saudi Arabia 140 kCasp, 14 Akiva, 20.3 pHume 13:20:12 January 3, 2025 CONFIRMED Lower than reference locations, but within normal values. SIRENL_231, Fushimi Inari-taisha,10 Japan 124 kCasp, 1 Akiva, 21.7 pHume 15:43:56 January 3, 2025 CONFIRMED Exceptionally low Akiva value. SIRENS_086, Jay Em, Wyoming 136 kCasp, -59 Akiva, 85.3 pHume 18:32:18 CONFIRMED Imminent Tartarean event suspected. MTF Mu-0 dispatched. SIRENO_138, Boston, Massachusetts 245 kCasp, 3 Akiva, 13.8 pHume 01:57:12 January 4, 2025 CONFIRMED Abnormally high readings. May represent increase in Way traffic. SIRENS_014, Môa River, Acre, Brazil 196 kCasp, 5 Akiva, 85.3 pHume 09:07:58 January 4, 2025 CONFIRMED Abnormally high Hume and Casper readings. No apparent cause. Investigation underway. SIRENL_102, Salt Lake City, Utah 0 kCasp, 0 Akiva, 0 pHume 12:00:00 January 29, 2025 CAUTION Presumed to be an error. Data discarded. SIRENL_109, San Francisco, California 0 kCasp, 0 Akiva, 0 pHume 12:00:00 January 29, 2025 CAUTION Presumed to be an error. Data discarded. 40 Identical Values Omitted Presumed to be an error. Data discarded. SIRENL_162, Vatican City 249 kCasp, 18 Akiva, 149 pHume 17:43:40 January 4, 2025 CONFIRMED Within normal values. SIRENL_199, Rovaniemi, Finland 128 kCasp, 7 Akiva, 2.5 pHume 02:16:23 January 5, 2025 CONFIRMED Critically low Hume values. MTF Omega-12 dispatched to strengthen reality with SRAs and terminate responsible Type Greens. SIRENL_130, Mecca, Saudi Arabia 140 kCasp, 0 Akiva, 20.3 pHume 12:47:13 January 5, 2025 CONFIRMED MTF ETA-77 dispatched. No anomalies reported. Contacts with Horizon Initiative report nothing out of the ordinary. Possible calibration error. The full Project SIREN array has now been running for one year and has been remarkably successful. The array has allowed us to locate seventeen additional SCP objects and avert one potential XK-Class scenario. In addition, the array's real-time monitoring has greatly improved our relationship mapping of rival organizations, enabling the break-up of several Sarkic cults. Additional funding for Project SIREN has been approved. However, calibration issues have been a persistent flaw for Project SIREN and they have become a severe, persistent error, only growing worse with time. Recalibration now occurs once every 24 hours. The Project SIREN team believes this to be both due to the sensitivity of the instruments involved and a bias in the data set used to calibrate the sensors in the first place. They intend to correct this in the next model of CHAMPs. In addition, they will be integrating new technology into SIREN--the Omnistabilization Anchoring Node (OAN).11 The next generation of CHAMPs will not only detect anomalous phenomena, they will be able to eliminate it. Incidentview, page 1 of 4: INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT CRIMSON EYE DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2026/03/24 At 8:48 (local time) March 24, 2026, high levels of anomalous activity were reported in the town of Bend, Wisconsin. Initial reports describe the snow turning blue, two moons visible in the morning sky, and asphalt being overgrown with pulsating wildflowers and grasses. While this is consistent with critically low Hume values, the CHAMP unit at the Foundation outpost in town reported no change in values. Believing the CHAMP unit to be miscalibrated and unable to identify the cause of the phenomenon, Captain Gerald Simmons took charge and ordered the activation of the OAN at 9:01. The theory of operation for OAN units held that miscalibration of the CHAMPs should not matter, as OANs merely return local values to baseline levels. Even if the CHAMP couldn't detect the change in thaumaturgical values, the OAN should still be able to normalize the region. Anti-lightning effects after INCIDENT CRIMSON EYE, localized around SIRENL_129 in Wisconsin. Darkflashes persist for five days after the incident, amnesticization of full population considered infeasible. Upon activation, anti-lightning and darkflashes began emitting from SIRENL_129, leeching color from the area and draining electrical current from struck objects.12 Anomalous phenomena worsened in the area, with variable number of suns reported, and all snow igniting with a blue heatless flame that converted what it burned to ice. Due to the brick construction of much of the town and earlier snowmelt the damage was relatively constrained to the downtown area, but several groves of trees turned to ice and five buildings collapsed, leading to the deaths of 34 people, including the technicians operating the OAN and Captain Simmons. While the other Foundation personnel were unharmed, they were unable to reach the OAN to deactivate it. At 11:25, additional anomalous phenomena were reported. The pews, cross, and minister of the First Methodist Church spontaneously transmogrified into swarms of eastern tiger swallowtails, the stained glass of the windows morphing to exhibit insectoid patterns. Several anomalous items in storage at the outpost began to show changed or increased anomalous properties. AI-1359867 had previously been a key capable of opening any lock. During Incident CRIMSON EYE, it emitted flashes of red light every ninety minutes, during which random buildings in Bend would spatially invert. Roads leading to Bend would rearrange, preventing help from arriving. These events continued even after the initial anomalous phenomena dissipated at 16:38. Power to the OAN would finally be cut at 17:34. This returned AI-1359867 to its previous state. Lightning strikes neutralized most of the butterfly swarms, though repeated strikes on the First Methodist Church had minimal effect.13 The Foundation was able to set up checkpoints and occupy governmental buildings, but due to the infrastructure damage was unable to fully secure the town with available assets. SUMMARY: Executive action was taken, without consultation with the Regional Site Director. 34 people died during the event, 6 of which were Foundation personnel. The rest were civilians. All CHAMPs in the region, even those carried by the rescue teams from the surrounding area, registered no Triad values deviating from the norm during the duration of the events of CRIMSON EYE. Notably, activation of the OAN exacerbated anomalous activity, rather than neutralizing the effects. RECOMMENDATIONS: Decommissioning and testing of all OANs and CHAMPs in the Midwest region to vet their reliability and calibration. Re-examine calibration data, reaffirming baseline values in standardized testing locations. Update CHAMP integration software and bring into line with current Foundation standards. Reaffirm chain-of-command protocol with regional staff and personnel. BROKEN ABACUS Incident Inquiry 026 Interviewer: Linda Larson, Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee Interviewed: Agostino Veronesi, JOVE Begin Transcript Excerpt I used to be into history before I got this gig. Classics, Roman Republic era, mostly. Prime PhD candidate, so I'm told. Did you know the Romans used to mass manufacture curse tablets? Hell, they worked for the most part, too, according to witness accounts. But ICSUT could never crack them. They weren't "made right." They didn't work according to "the model." Who cares if they didn't work in the model if they actually worked in the field? Anyways, shortly after curse tablet production got into full swing, Rome burnt to the ground. Kinda bit them in the ass, in the end. Pushed a good thing too far, and it snapped back. What does this have to do with BROKEN ABACUS? Hell if I know, I'm just rambling… End Transcript Excerpt INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT YELLOW EYE DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2026/07/20 For several months prior to the incident, high levels of cult activity were reported in the city of Anchorage, Alaska, as well as in the surrounding region of Southcentral Alaska. At 12:00 (local time) July 20th, 2026, an unidentified man (initially reported to police as a crazed vagrant) walked onto Kincaid Beach in Anchorage, Alaska. He was belligerent towards passersby and wild animals that drew near until he found a piece of driftwood and began to draw a large, intricate ritual circle in the sand. At 12:15, local police and embedded UIU elements approached the scene, observing the man "frantically dancing" and shouting in a "scraping" language. Storm clouds grew overhead, though the sky had been clear minutes before. At 12:17, officers attempted to detain the vagrant, but were repelled by an unseen force. Through police body-cams and witness testimony, it is known that the vagrant withdrew a lighter from his pocket and ignited it. The spark jumped off of the lighter and began to ricochet around the ritual circle, growing larger and accelerating with each reflection, until it became a swirling inferno, consuming the man entirely. For every seventh full rotation the inferno completed, it grew in size. The police unit dispatched lost three officers before retreating to a safe location. Image captured from cockpit of Pilot Leviticus Jefferson depicting destruction of wingman Pilot Samuel Doyle's aircraft. The fire continued to grow until reaching a height at fifty feet at 12:45. At that point, the inferno lanced out at a 45 degree angle over the inlet, and was observed to impact something invisible in the air. Fog formed swirling fractals around the area until the projectile punched through and disappeared into a large "hole" over the ocean. At 12:50, UIU elements reported a large, unidentified, amorphous entity passing through the Way and falling into the ocean. At 13:10, 3rd Wing aircraft were deployed from Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson (JBER) to survey the incident, reporting boiling water and movement below the waves. Tentacles lashed out from the ocean and struck down one F-22 Raptor, killing the pilot. The entity began to move towards Anchorage. At 13:23 the entity was liquidated by an additional squadron deployed from JBER. No additional anomalous activity was observed that day. SUMMARY: 30,000 civilians in Anchorage and the surrounding communities observed the anomalous incident. JBER was forced to deploy [CLASSIFIED] to protect the Veil. The manifestation and Way reported were inconsistent with the described ritual, not obeying conventional GUTT in terms of power requirements and necessary components. Similarly, the exponential backlash cascade leading up to the creation of the Way should be impossible in all but the most specific of laboratory conditions, as backlash almost universally decays over time. In parallel to CRIMSON EYE, Foundation elements reported no deviation in local Triad values, except during JBER's [CLASSIFIED]. RECOMMENDATIONS: Teardowns and in-depth refits of regional CHAMPs to fit with current standards and calibrations, with on-the-minute normalized regional references for fabula stabilization. Reaffirm the Nassau Accords with American liaisons and other signatories. Organize an investigative working body to look into into the cause of anomalous thaumaturgical events like those of YELLOW and CRIMSON EYE. Lobby for stronger theistic and anti-heretic legislation in America, Canada, and Mexico. BROKEN ABACUS Incident Inquiry 015 Interviewer: Linda Larson, Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee Interviewed: Hal Everill, SCP Foundation Begin Transcript Excerpt The CHAMPs? They worked great. At first. IT hated the bastards, they were so swingy with their predictions, honestly would have better luck flipping a coin or throwing a dart at a map on some days. But then it would nail a guy in Afghanistan or something who was building a magic nuke, ready to start Occult War VIII, and then all wrongs were forgotten. Honestly should have been the writing on the wall… […] The proposal? We were pressed for time. O5s wanted an answer we couldn't possibly give for a question we couldn't possibly know. So we came up with one that we thought would stick, one that was too big for the O5s to possibly want to rubberstamp… why did they do it? […] You want my opinion? The Raspberry Pi. That was why it failed. It should have been Bard, or one of the .aics, something with computing power, y'know, to handle the energy requirements… But I was shot down at the drawing board, the working theory being that the lower the specs, the less complex the working needed for uplift. If the Apollo landings were done with the computing power of a smart fridge, who was I to argue? … Who am I to say now? Now I'm just a guy with a useless degree… End Transcript Excerpt INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT BLACK EYE DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2027/01/10 At 02:58 (local time) Security Camera B-6 showed visual distortions in a hallway at Site-34, followed by the apparent conversion of the eastern half of the hallway into an urban alleyway. This was only visible on B-6; other security cameras in the hallway showed no anomalous activity. The onsite CHAMP unit showed no anomalous readings at this time. A mix of human and non-human intruders14 emerged from the alleyway, apparently appearing out of thin air to the other cameras. As the fourth figure emerged, the onsite CHAMP unit (attached to SIRENL_614) showed a decrease in pHume readings consistent with a weak Type Green. After seven intruders exited the alleyway, the hallway appeared to return to normal and the intruders began to head to low-security anomalous item storage. Security guards noticed the intruders at 02:59 and initiated lockdown procedures. They attempted to seal off the area remotely, but PoI-8235-4, the Type Green, converted large sections of the bulkheads to filings. This jammed the bulkhead mechanisms and prevented them from deploying correctly. Bulkheads 15 and 17 were partly converted only once they had lowered, delaying security teams. Tactical Response operatives began cutting through the bulkheads with plasma cutters. The intruders reached anomalous item storage at 03:04. PoI-8235-6 deactivated security protocols and opened all doors through unknown means; no fluctuations in the CHAMP readings were detected at this point. While PoIs -1 and -3 stood guard, -2, -5, and -7 began sorting through anomalous items. Invaders retained twenty-five items and destroyed eight using a combination of reality warping and an unknown form of thaumaturgy that engulfed objects in red sparks and disintegrated them. No backlash was observed and there was no apparent energy source being used for the thaumaturgy. While the CHAMP displayed standard Hume fluctuations when -4 used its abilities, no changes in Triad values were observed when -6 used its thaumaturgy. At 03:07, the on-site OAN was activated. -4's reality-bending abilities stopped working immediately, stopping them in the middle of erasing an anomalous sculpture from existence. -6 was unaffected. PoIs conversed. At 03:10, -6 placed its hands on the south wall, near a major power cable. Several seconds later the OAN suffered a fatal error. Technicians began the reboot process. At 03:15, security teams breached the bulkheads and began advancing towards the vaults. PoIs -1, -2, and -3 then moved to the back of anomalous item storage and began to perform a ritual while the other PoIs established positions near the entrance. Nearing storage, personnel encountered an unknown physical force that resisted their forward progress, but was unable to fully stop their advance. At 03:17, personnel engaged the PoIs. -4 used its reality bending abilities to cause eye irritation, blinding security. -6 used thaumaturgy to attack officers who were out of cover. Video evidence shows purple sparks intercepting incoming rounds and disintegrating Foundation personnel. The CHAMP showed slight decreases in Hume levels but no change in kiloCasper values. At 3:19, the OAN was rebooted and reactivated. -4's abilities were blocked, restoring personnel's vision, but -6's thaumaturgy was unaffected by the OAN. At 03:20, PoIs -1, -2, and -3 completed their ritual and converted the back wall of anomalous item storage into the same alleyway they had arrived through. No backlash was observed. Triad readings did not fluctuate, though on-site gravimetric sensors reported a 0.05% decrease in gravity. All PoIs exfiltrated and the back wall returned to normal. SUMMARY: Antagonists involved in BLACK EYE executed thaumaturgical workings deemed impossible within physical GUTT restraints and conventional power/energy requirements. Such acts, if promulgated, could be destructive to normalcy organizations and/or revolutionize our understanding of thaumaturgical capabilities. Effects on PoI-8235-4 and anomalies housed on-site confirm that the OAN was activated, but -6's thaumaturgy and -1, -2, and -3's ritual was not affected. Based on video logs, they did not appear to realize that the OAN had been activated until informed by -4. Again, CHAMP readings were not consistent with eyewitness reports and observed damages. Systems and subsystems are to be analyzed for hitherto-unknown design flaws or hardware limitations. RECOMMENDATIONS: Pending. To All Relevant Personnel and Contractors: The Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee (ITIC) conference to be rescheduled and convene ASAP. Findings are to be presented and summarized to O5 Council and other leadership bodies in paper and digital form. Memo to the O5 Council After several months of diligent work, a team of Foundation, ICSUT, and JOVE researchers has concluded that while GUTT is a valid model for the workings of magic, it may not remain so indefinitely. The errors and skewed data that has been observed since the launch of the SIREN system is correlative, but not causative. The SIREN system merely allowed us to view a process that was already occurring: The constants of magic are shifting. This is not an unfamiliar idea in physics as a whole. There are several theories that posit fundamental physical constants may change over time, such as the gravitational constant or the half-life of a proton. However, those changes are theorized to be minute, happening over a time scale of billions, if not trillions of years. That is not the case here. Our models show that the constants that undergird GUTT, such as Dostoevsky's Number, Le Guin's Constant, as well as several others, are changing, at an average rate of several hundredths per year. This rate can be successfully mapped to several factors, such as population growth, rate of anomalous incidents, median OECD GDP per capita, and other frivolous causes, though it may be impossible to define for certain. However, we have a proposed solution. Utilizing the Rite of Solomon, we can go even below the fundamental constants, and change the equations that govern the constants themselves. As such, we can prevent this gradual shift from occuring, and preserve our current understanding of thaumaturgy as a whole. But this would require swift and decisive action, as we do not currently understand how a large constant shift may affect the Rite of Solomon, or even render it ineffective. Because of this, our proposal should not and cannot be delayed. Proposal: APPROVED PROJECT: ERA DUSK INITIATED SITE LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT SITE LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT This is an automated message being broadcast on the emergency HOTLINE system. If you are reading this, the infrastructure for your Site has been CRITICALLY damaged. Lockdown will continue until repairs can be commenced and regular activity may resume. Please stay calm and follow the directions of your Division Supervisor, or consult the Emergency Operations Manual for additional instructions until such a time as our $$ Crisis Way Network Remove From Broadcast$$ can reestablish connection to your Site. Lockdown is in effect for Site-01, Site-02, Site-03, Site-04, Site-05, Site-06, Site-07… Show 92 additional entries? INCIDENT REPORT INCIDENT BROKEN ABACUS DATE OF OCCURRENCE: 2027/12/21 Begin Transcript 23:20: Cameras and blackbox audio are activated and reveal an expansive warehouse, filled with humming machinery and bustling scientists. Seven large wooden crates are wheeled in under guard of MTF Alpha-1 ("Red Right Hand"), stamped with the logos of various GOIs. 23:34: The ritual circle is prepared, [CLASSIFIED UNDER THE KÖLN AGREEMENT]. The camera and audio crackle from EVE exposure as SCP-3457-B1 through -B7 are lifted out of their crates. The memetic SCRAMBLE blinders on one scientist fail, reducing him to ash. The ritual proceeds. 23:47: Glass and metal rattles as a storm brews outside of the warehouse, drawn by the ley-lines and the gathering of the Keys. The ritual proceeds. 23:50: The low pressure and ozone alter the calculations, and the scientists attempt to compensate for the changing variables. The SCP-3457 candidate is removed from its container and placed within [CLASSIFIED UNDER THE KÖLN AGREEMENT]. The ritual proceeds. 00:00: The ritual proceeds. Winds are clocked to 48 mph outside the warehouse. The screams of the damned are heard. SIRENS_173 detects the corresponding spike in Akiva radiation. 00:00: SIRENS_005 reports a spike in Akiva radiation. 00:00: SIRENS_321 reports a spike in Akiva radiation. 00:00: SIRENS_049 reports a spike in Akiva radiation. [396 IDENTICAL REPORTS OMITTED] 00:01: SIREN Array crashes. SIREN Watchgroup attempts to reboot. 00:02: The ritual proceeds. SCP-3457 candidate begins to deconceptualize. 00:04: Fluctuations detected in C_OAN_12-17. Ticket issued to IT. 00:04: C_OAN-5-01 ceases functionality. Bound Type-Green resumes activity. 00:05: Site-01 HOTLINE reports a containment breach. 00:06: The ritual proceeds. 00:08: Site-666 HOTLINE reports a Tartarean Incursion, Code BLACK. 00:09: Multiple Sites HOTLINE report partial-or-total digital infrastructure collapse due to malfunctioning electronics. All established Faustian bargains with the Foundation are anomalously nullified. 00:07: The ritual proceeds. Casualties within permissible limits. 00:10: SIREN Array is restored to full functionality. Crashes immediately after issuing a global alert of low Akiva radiation levels. Watchgroup attempts a second reboot. 00:10: SCP-3457 candidate fully deconceptualizes, no longer visible to the unsanctified eye. 00:12: Site-666 is lost. 00:13: Site-01 is lost. 00:13: The O5 Council is assembled. Motion to halt PROJECT ERA DUSK is dismissed 1-12. 00:14: The ritual proceeds. 00:15: The ritual ends. O5-2 is lost. The Keys are lost. 12 Sites are lost. 10% of ERA DUSK personnel are lost. 2% of Foundation personnel worldwide are lost. 00:17: SIREN Array is restored to full functionality. Crashes immediately, reporting global Triad levels of 0. Watchgroup is unable to reboot it. Handheld units generally confirm reports, though they do show slight, irregular fluctuations around anything that formerly had particularly high readings. 00:30: ICSUT Prague detonates in a twenty-ton explosion leveling two square blocks. Eventually tracked to a runaway reaction within its experimental thaumaturgical tokamak fusion reactor. 842 casualties, 212 fatalities. Most students were away on holiday. 00:45: 72% of the residents of SCP-5525-Byzantine were found to be regressed to the biological age of seven. [23,555 OTHER BROKEN ABACUS-INDUCED INCIDENTS OMITTED FOR BREVITY] 05:00: BROKEN ABACUS-induced incidents begin to subside. OANs rendered largely ineffective. Most anomalies appear entirely unaffected. Clean-up operations begin, with the Foundation, GOC, and national normalcy organizations working jointly to enact disinformation protocols. Veil breaches are widespread but judged not to threaten the Veil as a whole if prompt action is taken. End Transcript BROKEN ABACUS Incident Inquiry 033 Interviewer: Linda Larson, Interorganization Thaumaturgical Investigative Committee Interviewed: Dr. Gerald Martin, formerly of the ICUST Begin Transcript Excerpt "Don't let facts get in the way of a good theory." We usually say it to mock people, but we were doing the same thing, weren't we? There was stuff that didn't seem to fit into the model and we always knew it. But it seemed so beautiful it had to be true, and the O5s were riding our asses and wanted something now. And so we figured that the approach was right, it just needed… tweaking. I can't be too hard on the others; they'd usually be right. Just look at the neutrinos. […] General consensus is that we broke magic. That's why SRAs don't work against most of the stuff they used to, it's why Akiva readings are always zero, it's why GUTT doesn't work any longer. I think they're wrong, though, I don't think it ever really worked. Maybe it was just incomplete or maybe we were going down the wrong path entirely, but we tried to mess with reality because we thought we understood it and we didn't. Under GUTT, the Rite of Solomon shouldn't have worked like that. Even if it failed like it did--and according to GUTT, it shouldn't have--it shouldn't have made Akiva readings hit zero while doing nothing to Fushimi Inari-taisha or Mecca. Why did it hit GUTT but not OTT, TIOM, or all the other crackpot methodologies? The point of the ritual is to affect all magic. […] No, I don't know why the ritual failed like it did. I just don't tell myself that I do, or that we can figure it out using the same ideas that got us into this mess. End Transcript Excerpt Item #: SCP-8235 Special Containment Procedures: All existing theories are being reevaluated. Final collated output of the SIREN Array prior to indefinitely crashing. Analysis ongoing. Description: SCP-8235 is the sum collection of reality-altering phenomena colloquially known as magic. This phenomena does not obey any broad, encompassing laws, beyond traditional, thematic conditions (e.g. a curse lasting a year and a day, ritual components requiring esoteric substances like "the beard of a woman"). Artifacts created using SCP-8235 do not function properly under laboratory conditions. Thaumaturgical machinery and instruments no longer function as designed, and are unable to be repaired. The situation is being assessed. Footnotes 1. Edgar, J. E., Roberts, H. T., Xyank, T., et al. (2007). Ontological density of materials, utilizing advancements in MicroEVESpec. Journal of Narrativistics, 3(10), 24-43. 2. Weakly Interacting Massive Particles. 3. Edgar, J. E., Roberts, H. T., Joyce, P. P., and Storstrand, E. E. (2012). Narrative-thaumatological cosmic strings: An analysis of the indirect evidence. Journal of Narrativistics, 2(4), 209-214. 4. Elan-Vital Energy (EVE) is a lower frequency than typical aspect radiation, analogous to infrared on the light spectrum, emanated by living beings as they pass through and observe the fabulon fabric. 5. A prior categorizing system denoted the value axes of aspect radiation momentum as Hue, Pitch, and Weave, though that system has since been deprecated in favor for a more standardized and simplified notation. 6. Standardized unit equivalent to the aspect radiation created through transmuting 1 cubic meter of water to wine. 7. Edgar J., Robert A. H., and Hunter P. P. (1996). Faith and the creation of gods. The Holy Papers of the Silicon Nornir, 5(4), 10-54. 8. Hunter P. P and Gould D. A. (2021). A metafictional analysis of the Dialogue of St. Eric. Foundation Journal of Tactical Theology, 31(1), 406-425. 9. Informally known as the "Magic Triad" units. 10. One of the most important shrines to the kami Inari Okami. 11. A recently developed device that combines SRA technology, an antimonadic field, and adaptive harmonic dampening and cancellation paratechnology to emit an anti-thaumaturgical field. 12. In living beings, this led to the total cessation of brain activity. 13. Apparently due to the Church's particularly well-constructed lightning rod. 14. Designated PoI-8235-1 through -7. Later identified as members of a Hand-affiliated militant indigenous group. |
SCP-8245 | esoteric-class | "We're artists," I exclaimed. "Artists like us can do anything, be anyone, go anywhere at any time and no one can stop us." SCP-8245: Anywhere, Anytime, You and Me Written by winkwonkboi. ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} /* 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. 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; } } You have an exclusive 15-minute lock that will stop others editing this page while you are working. The lock expires in 98 seconds of inactivity. … I remembered middle school like it was yesterday. I remembered being a writer, passionate in the craft of putting one and one together and making something out of nothing. I remembered creating pockets of worlds in my head, sculpting characters from my imagination, and telling tales of places far, far away for everyone to hear… well, for my tea party of critters to hear. The day we met wasn't like any other story, though. Clouds crossed the ocean skies but the blue still persisted. No one else was in the classroom besides you and me, engaged in a life outside our own. Mine had hints of ink and sheets while yours had canvases bearing pastel hues. It was recess time, everyone else had already left. We hadn't talked before, but glancing at the many pieces of eye candy stacked on your desk piqued my interest. It was only a matter of time till I opened my mouth and kickstarted the first of many memories. I got to see the beauty in your craftmanship—the love in every stroke, the layers of detail, the honest-to-god effort you put in that fish painting—and smiled, laughed even. Though, I was probably laughing at the paint smothering your face. I remembered feeling thrilled. I remembered hastily showcasing my works as well after keeping them to myself for the longest time. Stories of my pet toys on a wild west adventure with me and my adorable skunk Pete leading the gang. Skits of ruffian clowns on a getaway after stealing pies from the pie factory. I remembered a weight being lifted, finally finding someone else I can share my love of the arts to. "We're artists," I exclaimed. "Artists like us can do anything, be anyone, go anywhere at any time and no one can stop us." You couldn't help but agree, despite how shy you tend to be. It's like you understood me, like you knew how beautiful it is to express yourself through a kaleidoscopic lens. No dismissal, no disregard, you were the only person who even read my stories. And from the look of things, I was probably the only person who looked through your artwork. Artists, I remembered being so passionate about being an artist. I remembered working hard day and night, thinking that once I stood on my own two feet, I could show the world my fictional journeys. Even when I had to move, we promised we'd make it and meet on the high point, catching up on old times. … If only you could see me with that promise in hand, Will. If only it was different. I can be an artist too, I promise you. [Burntwood is sleeping on her office desk, her head resting in her arms. Her body jerks as she wakes up and groans.] Burntwood: Ugh, fuck… coffee headache. [She readjusts herself, dusting off her lab coat. Burntwood sighs.] Burntwood: (Breathy) Alright, what was I doing. [Noticing her open laptop, she wakes it up before scanning through the draft already present on screen.] Burntwood: Ah… Item#: SCP-8245 Level3 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: danger link to memo Assigned Site Site-33 Site Director Clayton Burgees Research Head Abigail Burntwood Assigned Task Force N/A Fireworks which sparked across the western half of the United States, reported to have "rained from the clouds." Special Containment Procedures: At present, SCP-8245 remains uncontained. Efforts are mainly focused on swaying the general populace's awareness of its anomalous nature through mass amnesticization, disinformation campaigns and cover-up stories. Entities and objects created by SCP-8245 should be relocated to any nearby facility. Confinement of SCP-8245 is pending as of writing. Civilian being granted the ability to fly Description: SCP-8245 is William N. Knowles, an Asian-American male who possesses remarkably high levels of Aspect Radiation and Elan-Vital Energy (EVE). Because of this, it is capable of performing ontokinesis and thaumaturgy with ease. Limitations to this have yet to be determined. Among the many abilities SCP-8245 has, notable examples of its effects include: Instantaneous teleportation of itself and entities it is aware of to potentially any location; Manifestation of various objects, organisms and areas, usually abnormal in nature; Metamorphic capabilities, though the entity mostly utilizes this to change its clothing, and; Causing inanimate objects to gain sentience, primarily drawings, paintings or any visual form of art. From its initial discovery, SCP-8245 has constantly made attempts to disrupt the Veil by frequenting public spaces worldwide and presenting its anomalous properties. Each time, it has fled capture from Foundation operatives attempting to intervene, continuing its activities elsewhere instead. Due to its potential of instigating a BK-Class "Broken Masquerade" Scenario, the containment of SCP-8245 has been declared an Alpha-level priority. Addendum: Example Logs Below are a series of excerpts detailing events caused by SCP-8245. Incident #: 012 Location: Venice, Italy Description: SCP-8245 appeared above the city's center, snapping its fingers and causing civilians to either float into the sky or gain the ability to walk on water. Pieces of clothing also burst out of the doors of their houses as they playfully follow the citizens. During this event, statements of "viewing the world in a beautiful, tinted shade" have been derived from numerous interviews. Incident #: 024 Location: Various, United Kingdom Description: SCP-8245 has been seen leading a marching band down various streets located throughout the United Kingdom. Its members consist of himself and entities resembling musical notes playing cutely and uniquely-designed instruments. Nearby audiences cheer for their charming performance. Confetti rains from an unknown source above while numerous multicolored lights focus on the play throughout its duration. Incident #: 036 Location: S.E.A. Aquarium, Sentosa Island, Singapore Description: SCP-8245 manifests inside one of the aquarium's exhibitions, knocking on the window and alerting a nearby audience. As he smiles, he cracks the glass before shattering it. He rides on a water stream throughout the entire building accompanied by countless fish, painted with various pleasing hues. Everyone is astounded, bewildered by the show as his art dances across the halls. Beautiful, it's beautiful. They can't help but watch. Oh Will, shit i CANT evenr ejaodgww shb Artist recreation of the fish from Incident 036 you've come so far fuck why can't i just be like| Burntwood: Right… him. [Burntwood turns to her desk, blinking several times as she stares blankly at it. She is then startled by a sudden knock on the door across from her, as Director Burgees enters the room.] Burgees: Ah, Ms. Burntwood. I hope I'm not disturbing you. Burntwood: Director Burgees? Oh, no. You're not disturbing me at all. Is- is there something I can help you with? [Burgees tilts his head.] Burgees: Nothing much, I'm only here to give my thanks for your volunteering. Burntwood: Volunteering? Burgees: In researching the 8245 anomaly up close. I greatly appreciate your help in this considering the circumstances at hand. Not many people are willing to take the responsibility of standing within proximity of a reality bender, let alone interviewing them. They're quite the… unpredictable kind. Burntwood: Yeah, well I would- I'd figure such a situation would put much stress on anyone. I'd rather not have anyone else putting their life on the line, so… [Burgees clicks his tongue.] Burgees: That's very commendable, Ms. Burntwood. It's good to know we have people like you. Burntwood: Mhm, that's me. Miss Commendable, reporting for duty. [Burntwood chuckles, followed by a brief silence.] Burgees: (Inhales) Well, you did seem rather eager to take the position during our initial encounter with the anomaly. I may be skeptical asking this, but did you have some other motive in mind back then? Burntwood: What? Burgees: Is there any (gestures) personal reason why you wanted to study this particular anomaly? Burntwood: Oh, no. Uh, I was just- I'm just curious, is all. I've never had the opportunity to look at someone- something like this firsthand. I'm sure it sounds odd to say, but it's the truth. Burgees: Hm, well you know what they say about curiosity. Don't let that get to you, alright? Burntwood: Of course, sir. There's no need to worry. Is there anything else I should know, or…? Burgees: Apart from the email I've sent you, no. I'm sure you've already been briefed regarding your departure to 8245's current location, yes? Burntwood: (Under breath) Email? Oh! Right, right. I'm aware, I already have everything prepared. Ready to face this… anomaly head-on. Burgees: Perfect, you'll be out in 15. Don't be tardy. Burntwood: (Scoffs) Please, anything beats sitting around all day. Burgees: Well, where else would you rather be? [A short pause.] "Where else would I rather be?" … I don't want to be here. I'd rather go somewhere else. I'd rather be somewhere else. Playing pretend between the pages, Making voices only we can hear, Living life by the pen. I'd rather be there. I'd rather be anywhere. I'd rather be anywhere. I'd rather be- … Burgees: Doesn't matter. Best of luck, Ms. Burntwood. [Burgees leaves.] Burntwood: Right… [Burntwood takes a deep sigh before returning to her laptop and looking through the unread messages in her inbox. After a few minutes, she recovers the email recently sent by Burgees.] Burntwood: (Reading aloud) "I've made comments on your latest submission. As informative as it is, the documents you sent include language unbefitting of our typical standards. Simply put, we're writing articles for other staff members to review and reference. We're not writing narratives. You'd do well to keep that in mind, Ms. Burntwood." [Burntwood scrolls through as she skims its contents.] Burntwood: Just great, just… (sighs) fuck, why can't I just… [She groans as she hits her head repeatedly on her desk.] Burntwood: Okay, y'know what. Let's get on with it. Actually- [Burntwood presses down on the backspace key for a short moment before saving. She takes another deep breath.] Burntwood: Alright, now it's go time. (Mumbles) It's gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be just fine. Burntwood: Testing, testing. Elfreth's Alley, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania [The Foundation-assigned van arrives by the entrance of Elfreth's Alley. Burntwood steps out as the door swings open, tampering with her recording device and reading the notes on her clipboard. She is visibly sweating.] Burntwood: Okay, I think we're good. Agent: You sure you wanna do this alone? Burntwood: Wha- [A number of agents also exit the vehicle, some carrying sizeable Scranton Reality Anchors (SRAs) and setting them down. The agent addressing Burntwood leans on the van's side.] Agent: This ain't like any other anomaly under your purview, y'know. You sure you'll be alright? Burntwood: Oh, uh- (clears throat) yes, it's better this way. The less people there are, the less alarming it'll be for him. It's best not to scare him off to a different part of the world. Agent: "Him?" Burntwood: It! "It," yes. That's what I- That's what I meant, sorry. Agent: Nah, you're fine. Just holler if you need to. We'll be here setting the SRAs around the area, hope for the best… (mumbles) though who knows how long that thing will stick around for. Burntwood: Will do, will do. [Burntwood departs from the rest, taking deep breaths as she rereads her notes. She clicks her tongue, frowning.] Burntwood: (Under breath) It'll work out, it'll work out… they're just notes- Entity: Good day, ma'am. Burntwood: Mhm, good- [She stops in her tracks.] Burntwood: Wait, I thought we already evacuated everyone- [Burntwood turns to see a mass of bubbles, vaguely resembling a humanoid entity. It is wearing a fedora and a tie while holding a suitcase. She looks down to see a shallow stream of soap water beneath her feet.] Burntwood: Heh, that's actually… wait, no. [She continues marching forward.] Burntwood: Can't get distracted now. Don't get distracted, Abby. [Burntwood slaps her cheeks as bubbles start floating past her, each popping and producing a noise similar to that of a piano's. The buildings also begin to contort and change color as rubber ducks start sprouting from the brick road. She almost chuckles but holds back.] Burntwood: God, you don't deserve… [Her voice trails off as she notices a person (SCP-8245) in the distance hovering above, spinning in place while causing the soap water to rise and circle it.] Burntwood: Is that…? [Burntwood steps closer to confirm. The entity is wearing a purple cloak and a wide-brimmed hat with a pointed end. Its cloak is decorated with stars and appears almost transparent when nearing its shoes. It laughs as other miscellaneous objects orbit the specimen.] Burntwood: It is. It's actually- [She hesitates, looking over her lab coat and sighing. Burntwood eventually proceeds after shaking her head.] Burntwood: Doesn't matter. Just keep it together. [Burntwood approaches SCP-8245 who soon notices her and tilts its head, grinning widely. The entity becomes two-dimensional as it folds itself repeatedly before disappearing. She stops and looks around as SCP-8245 reappears behind Burntwood and yelps, startling her and causing her to stumble backward. The specimen laughs again.] SCP-8245: I was wondering where the audience went. Nice to meet you, missy. Hope I didn't scare you too much. [SCP-8245 turns itself upside down as it bows.] SCP-8245: On the offside, though, let me introduce myself. The name's Will, a magician on a worldwide art show. It's a pleasure to meet you. [SCP-8245 lends out a hand. Burntwood hesitantly shakes it as the anomaly quickly detaches its arm and backs away, leading her to drop the extremity on the ground in shock. It giggles as it grows another arm.] Burntwood: (Clears throat) Hey, Will. It's… the pleasure's all mine. [Burntwood pauses, turning away from the entity. It blinks several times before rubbing its chin.] SCP-8245: Hm, a one-on-one performance. Ain't this quite the ghost town. Usually, you'd find folks roaming round these parts. Don't tell me I'm performing for a crowd of skeletons, haha! [An accompanying laugh track plays from an unknown source.] SCP-8245: Well, it's probably them hooligans again. (Sighs) Doesn't matter. One or a thousand, at least somebody's smiling. Now tell me, friend-o, what's your name? [The specimen closes its eyes and opens its left one, revealing its pupil in the shape of a question mark. Burntwood takes another step back, smiling nervously.] Burntwood: You- you don't remember me? (Inhales) Does "Abby" not ring any bells? [Its pupil shifts to that of an exclamation mark before returning to normal. SCP-8245 hovers away for a moment, tilting its head and lowering its eyebrows.] SCP-8245: You mean… Burntwood? Abigail "Abby" Burntwood? Burntwood: That's right. SCP-8245: Middle school Abby? The Abby from almost two decades ago? [Burntwood waves her hand and nods. The anomaly's eyes lighten up.] Burntwood: Uh, hi. It's me… you know, I'm surprised you even recognized me- [SCP-8245 screams excitedly, closing the distance and lifting Burntwood off the ground. The entity tosses her in the air over and over again, with her reaching increasingly higher heights to the point of leveling the clouds. She screams as well, though out of fear. SCP-8245 then catches Burntwood, hugging her tightly as she tries to recuperate.] Burntwood: (Panting) Holy sh- (coughs) what the f- SCP-8245: I can't believe it! You're here, you're really here! I knew I'd find you eventually. Burntwood: Yup, I'm here. Now put me down before I- urp. [The specimen sets her down, dusting her off.] SCP-8245: My apologies, Missus. I'm just thrilled to see your face again. (Gestures) Here you are, here I am. The two of us have finally reunited! Burntwood: Mm, I'm glad you didn't forget about me, Will. SCP-8245: How could I? You're the only person I ever talked to. Now, I get to talk to you again and it's just- it's just so- [SCP-8245 raises its arms, shooting confetti from its wrists. Burntwood holds her breath, crossing her arms.] Burntwood: Heh, it's great to see you after so long. It looks like you're sticking to your… artistry. SCP-8245: No kidding. I've taken the time to refine my craftsmanship, expand my palette in ways no artists have seen before. Oh, but I'm sure you already knew that, eh? Burntwood: It's hard not to notice. I mean, everything here looks so, uh (pause), bubbly? [The entity chuckles, spinning backwards as it does so.] SCP-8245: Looks like you haven't lost your touch, Abby. Clever wordplay as always. Say, how are things looking on your end? Burntwood: What do you mean? SCP-8245: Your tales, obviously! I'm sure you've made a name for yourself already what with your mountainous amount of experience with the pen. Maybe you're also on a worldwide tour, showcasing the beauty in the arts of literature! Am I right? Am I right? Burntwood: No, no, I- SCP-8245: Though, it's odd. I've been checking book stores left and right and I haven't heard any names even close to yours. Any troubles on the writing front? [Burntwood looks back and turns to SCP-8245 again, holding her breath.] Burntwood: Uh, I'm still working on my big debut. When you're sharing your works, it's best to start on the right foot. You know, um, give them a fine first impression. Does that- [The specimen squints at her.] Burntwood: (Quietly) Does that make any sense? [A momentary silence passes.] SCP-8245: Well, aren't you as admirable as always? Even now, you still persist with your creativity, your passion for the works. I'm sure whatever you're planning will rock the industry to its core. Burntwood: You… you really think so? SCP-8245: Of course I do! I wouldn't want it any other way. Just you and me, sitting on top of the world and reminiscing on old times like we promised all those years ago. I've been meaning to know what you'd been up to when you moved. I'm sure your skills have doubled, tripled- no, quadrupled since last time. Maybe I can even proofread your huge debut. Burntwood: Um, maybe when I'm close to done. I don't know if you'd like it, though. I just have a lot to put together and I might not be as good as you say- SCP-8245: Nonsense, what's with the impostor syndrome? The Abby I knew always showed off her stories whenever she got the chance. Burntwood: That was back then, Will. Nowadays, I prefer to keep things to myself. I- y'know, I'm just not sure people would appreciate if I shoved a stack of papers in their faces. They might complain, they might… dislike it. SCP-8245: (Inhales deeply) Hm, you've certainly grown more aware of your surroundings, that's for sure. I get it, though. Respecting their privacy and all that junk. Can't really complain about that. [Burntwood stares at her feet.] Burntwood: (Coughs) Sorry, Will. SCP-8245: What're you apologizing for? Burntwood: Um… [Pause.] Burntwood: I should- I should probably go. I can see you're busy with your performance. [Burntwood attempts to leave but SCP-8245 grabs her arm.] SCP-8245: No, no, wait. It's been so long, Abby. Why're you suddenly packing up and leaving? Don't you wanna spend some more time with me? [She turns to the entity as it immediately retracts its hand.] SCP-8245: I don't want to push you or anything, but I just… I've been wanting to show you how far I've come. All the artworks I made, all the tricks I've learnt. I want you to see them. Personal performance, just for you. Burntwood: Will… [Burntwood ponders and looks back once again before sighing.] Burntwood: To be honest, I'd love to take you up on your offer, Will. [Sparkles appear surrounding the specimen's face.] SCP-8245: Really? Burntwood: But! But, I've been very, very busy lately. Busy with a lot of things, a lot of writing and all. I'm sure you understand that. Maybe some other time, maybe- SCP-8245: C'mon, Abby. You can shave off a minute or two. Just take it as a lil' break from the pen and paper. Who knows? It could even bring in some inspiration, get you willing and ready to take the world. You look like you need a break, anyway. Burntwood: I… I don't- [SCP-8245 claps both its hands.] SCP-8245: Pleeeeease? Burntwood: Will, no- [The anomaly closes the distance as its eyes notably widen. Stars of various hues are present within its pupils. Burntwood takes one last look behind herself before clicking her tongue and nodding.] Burntwood: Alright, alright, fine. Just this once. [SCP-8245 leaps backward, thrashing its limbs sporadically.] SCP-8245: Now that's what I'm talking about! Woohoo! Burntwood: (Under breath) Jeez, you can be so persistent sometimes… Okay, now how about that performance? What tricks do you have up your sleeve this time? SCP-8245: Right, of course. Right this way, ma'am. [The entity leads Burntwood to the front door of a residence. It is dark purple in color and heavily decorated with numerous stickers, hand-painted drawings, and other miscellaneous items. A faint string instrument can be heard from the other side. Burntwood is completely silent.] SCP-8245: Let's take a ride through the arts, my arts. Relevant image [SCP-8245 smirks as it knocks on the entrance and opens it, revealing an extradimensional space contained inside the building. The area consists of a forest surrounding an island where a castle resides. Burntwood gasps, leans in and observes the environment. Her mouth is agape.] Burntwood: All of this, you- you did all of this? SCP-8245: (Nods) Oh, you'd be surprised. I've been practicing ever since you left, Abby. You have no idea. Burntwood: Still, this is just… it's a lot. Way better than… [She holds her breath and lowers her eyebrows.] SCP-8245: No need for the flattery. I'm sure you're just as great- no, you're even better than anything I've painted. Words can bring in their own fair share of details too. I know that, for sure. (Sharp inhale) Well, this is more than just paint and canvases, but still. [A moment of silence passes as Burntwood continues to view the open space. SCP-8245 proceeds to dust off its cloak.] SCP-8245: (Clears throat) Well, I think it's better to have a firsthand experience, don't you think? Burntwood: I'm sorry? SCP-8245: Make sure you keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Burntwood: Wait, wha- [SCP-8245 shoves Burntwood through the door, causing her to fall and scream. It stares at her as she does and shrugs.] SCP-8245: Hm, she does like to scream. [The specimen jumps inside, closing the entrance on its way down.] [Burntwood falls in a spinning motion going forward. Her screaming is muffled by heavy winds. SCP-8245 soars toward her and grabs her by the arms. They float just above the trees.] SCP-8245: You alright there, Abby? [She is panting as she clutches onto her clipboard. Taking a deep breath, she composes herself as the anomaly lifts her back up.] Burntwood: I'm alive, I'm alive. SCP-8245: That's good to hear. Probably should've given you a parachute before dropping you off. Sorry about that. [SCP-8245 embraces Burntwood and holds her at eye level.] SCP-8245: Still, looks like you haven't been shown the ropes yet. I'm astonished. Burntwood: (Turns away) No artist can just… draw themselves in flight, Will. How can you even do all this? SCP-8245: How? You said it yourself, didn't you? Burntwood: W-What're you- [The entity jets itself higher into the sky.] SCP-8245: We're artists. We can do anything, we can be anyone- [SCP-8245 cycles through a number of attires while rising: A multi-colored suit with glasses of mismatched lens, a costume resembling that of a peacock with multiple hats stack on top of one another, a leprechaun suit with marshmallows stuck to it, among others.] [Before long, the specimen switches back to its original clothing and ceases movement. Burntwood turns to see the castle in the distance.] SCP-8245: -we can go anywhere at any time. [She notices civilians within the castle's borders.] SCP-8245: If I wanted to fly, I can just take a brush and paint a step into the clouds. If I wanted to dress up in frilly costumes, I can sketch and draw like any other design… And if I wanted to make worlds beyond our own- [They approach the island and look over the citizens. At a closer distance, they appear to be puppets, stitched and autonomous. Burntwood tilts her head.] SCP-8245: -well, I'm sure you can guess. Though, I should work on my anatomy. Not really good with humans. Burntwood: Heh, that makes two of us. (Sighs) I just- I'm not sure if it's really that simple. SCP-8245: Well, have you ever tried it? Burntwood: Of course I haven't. That's ridiculous. SCP-8245: It's only a matter of visualizing what you think. That's the first step to making anything: simply pinpoint what it is you want to convey. Doesn't need to be art, you can just write yourself in the air. With me! Burntwood: Really? A pen to paper, that's what you're suggesting? SCP-8245: You're the writer here. Show me your prose. [Burntwood pauses before staring at her feet. She closes her eyes and holds her breath, muttering something under her breath. Her body abruptly starts to lift by itself, leading her to open her eyes immediately and jolting her limbs out of confusion.] Burntwood: Woah, what the- [The anomaly chuckles as it gradually lets go of her.] SCP-8245: See? Told you. Burntwood: It- It actually worked?! SCP-8245: From the look of things, yeah. [SCP-8245 puts its hands behind its head as Burntwood struggles to balance herself.] Burntwood: Wait, how do I know you're not pulling the strings here? Didn't you create this world? SCP-8245: Oh, come on. You're acting like you could never pull this off, Abby. You're an artist too, aren't you? Burntwood: Yeah, I… I am. [She checks her lab coat.] Burntwood: (Mutters) I'm still an artist… [Both remain suspended in the air for a moment.] SCP-8245: Well, with that out of the way, we should get going. Burntwood: Okay… where? SCP-8245: Anywhere, I suppose. I have a wide range of pieces I want us to explore. So many to choose from, it's hard to pick. [Gears manifest above SCP-8245, turning before quickly dissipating. A lightbulb appears in their place followed by the sound of a bell.] SCP-8245: Oh, I know someone who can help. (Whistles) Oh, Betty! [A clump of red and orange papier-mâché dives from above, immediately unraveling itself to resemble a large dragon. It lets out a heap of smoke through its nose. The entity claps, putting its hands to its hips.] SCP-8245: Send us off, will you? Preferably somewhere nice on the eyes. [The dragon nods and begins to inhale, causing its chest area to expand and grow in brightness. Burntwood floats back in caution before her hand is grabbed by SCP-8245. She tries to pull away.] SCP-8245: Many thanks, Betty. Burntwood: W-Will, what is this? SCP-8245: Just another way to travel. It's perfectly safe. Burntwood: Mm, I think there are better ways to travel than- SCP-8245: (Chuckles) Too late! [It lets out a burst of flames, obscuring both SCP-8245 and Burntwood. The latter yelps once more, covering herself while the specimen laughs.] [A brief period of silence follows as Burntwood pants. She eventually opens her eyes and notices the change in scenery.] SCP-8245: Here we are. [The two are in the middle of the ocean, consisting of a wide variety of sea creatures. A large majority of species have yet to be discovered.] Relevant image Burntwood: Holy sh… [Both individuals appear completely dry and are capable of breathing underwater. SCP-8245's hat sprouts a cord that it pulls, causing the object to brighten their immediate surroundings. They slowly drift through the water, observing the area.] SCP-8245: Man, I remember painting this one. Used a lot of blue for this one, heh. Burntwood: (Smirks) It's- it's so beautiful. SCP-8245: I like to think it is. Burntwood: No, seriously. It's pleasing to see you tapping into your old aquatic pictures. Reminds me of that fish you showed me way back when. [The anomaly turns to her.] SCP-8245: You remembered? Burntwood: Oh, please. How could I forget? It's the reason we even talked to begin with. I still remember it's cute little smile. SCP-8245: Well, that makes two of us. [Both persons "walk" down to the ocean floor, appearing as though they are climbing down a flight of transparent stairs. Every step they take suddenly causes a light to appear from below their feet, each instance being a different color. Soon, they reach the ground and hear a ringing from above.] SCP-8245: Oh, hey! [Looking up, a number of sizeable ships pass Burntwood and SCP-8245. Although, they are floating on the surface of the water upside down. One of the vessels are larger than the rest, bearing a flag printed with a skull and crossbones. Various sea creatures wearing pirate costumes are on board. They seem to be waving at the pair.] SCP-8245: Would you look at that? I thought they were still out sailing away. Burntwood: Yeah, it's- god, it's only getting more overwhelming by the second. SCP-8245: Welcome to the moment, Abby. Every artist's pocket of creativity, all wrapped up in a bundle of… eh, I'm sure you can come up with something better. Burntwood: Come on, Will. You had something there. SCP-8245: (Scoffs) You're the writer here. I'm just grasping at straws. [The entity skips along the sand, kicking nearby pebbles. Burntwood sighs.] Burntwood: (Mutters) Well, that makes two of us… [The two continue to stroll through, encountering numerous specimens greeting them before stopping in front of a cave.] Burntwood: I'm guessing this is the next part of our adven-tour? SCP-8245: Haha, nice pun. (Clears throat) But yes, we're here. I think you'll find this mighty cool, if you catch my drift. [SCP-8245 bows as it gestures to the cave's entrance.] Burntwood: Alright, then. [Burntwood takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and running straight inside. The anomaly follows suit.] [After a short period of running, Burntwood exits the cave and freezes in place. She opens her eyes, observing the shifted environment.] Relevant image [She stands in the middle of a snowy area, her legs noticeably buried in a deep layer of snow. Despite the abrupt drop in temperature, Burntwood does not appear to react. The anomaly soon arrives behind her, its cloak replaced by a wooly coat and scarf.] SCP-8245: You seem used to the cold, eh? Burntwood: Sure I do. [Rubbing its hands together, SCP-8245 exhales. Its breath turns to ice cubes which fall to the ground.] Burntwood: You're not looking too hot yourself, though. SCP-8245: Heh, you can say that again. Well, anyways- [The entity walks past Burntwood. She follows it as snowmen start forming nearby from the waist-up. They quickly gain sentience and autonomous movement, some conversing with one another while others playing in the snow. Some of them greet the pair.] SCP-8245: I figured I should have my own winter wonderland. Nothing like the cozy feel of white Christmas on a canvas. Though, it does feel really cold. Burntwood: Guess I'm just used to it… [Birds fly overhead. They appear to be made from ice.] Burntwood: (Sharp inhale) Reminds me of those winter breaks. SCP-8245: Hm? Burntwood: We'd play in the snow, making snowmen and- [Burntwood picks up a ball of a snow and throws it at SCP-8245, causing the specimen to flinch.] Burntwood: -having snowball fights. SCP-8245: Oh, you think you're so sly? Burntwood: Try me, Will. [SCP-8245 stands in place smirking as Burntwood is suddenly struck from the back with another snowball. Turning around, she sees the anomaly behind her. It chuckles, throwing its fists into the air.] SCP-8245: That's what you get! Burntwood: Whatever, whatever. You win this time. [The two of them laugh as they pile more snowballs to throw at each other. This continues for the following few minutes.] Burntwood: (Sighs) Ugh, I missed this. SCP-8245: It's certainly been a while. At least we get to catch up now. Burntwood: That's not what- [Burntwood stares at SCP-8245 who tilts its head.] Burntwood: Nevermind, I'm just tuckered out at the moment. SCP-8245: Ah, I see. How about we take a little break then? Burntwood: (Pause) That would be lovely. [They both turn in the opposite direction, being met with another change in scenery.] Relevant image [A bench sits on a patch of pink grass beside a cherry tree. It is overlooking a massive lake where bubbles sprout from the water's surface and rise into the sky. Burntwood and SCP-8245 approach the bench and take a seat, taking in the view.] SCP-8245: (Clears throat) I'm feeling rather famished. Burntwood: Is that so? SCP-8245: Yeah, maybe some ice cream will do the trick. Burntwood: Ice cream? After the hoard of snowballs, that's what you're in the mood for? SCP-8245: No, I'm just… feeling nostalgic. We used to buy ice cream after class, remember? Burntwood: Oh, you mean that ice cream truck? SCP-8245: Yeah! Burntwood: The one always by the parking lot? SCP-8245: Mm, they had those chocolate ones that tasted really good. Burntwood: And a lot of toppings, too. You always overload it with sprinkles and syrup. It's honestly ridiculous. SCP-8245: That's how tasty it was! Couldn't help myself. Burntwood: (Scoffs) Well, you could help yourself to some napkins, though. SCP-8245: Oh, shut up! [Both burst into laughter.] SCP-8245: (Coughs) Still, though. Might as well get myself- [The entity spins its hand, manifesting a chocolate ice cream cone coated with sprinkles, marshmallows and chocolate syrup.] SCP-8245: -a scoop or two. Burntwood: You mind making one for me too? SCP-8245: C'mon, Abby. I'm sure you can do it yourself. Burntwood: Really? SCP-8245: If you can learn how to fly that easily, I'm confident you can write yourself a cone in hand. You're an artist, through and through. Burntwood: (Exhales) I can certainly try. [Burntwood holds out her hand and closes it into a fist. She squints, taking deep breaths before focusing. After a moment of struggling, a cone is seen forming from the bottom-up. Eventually, a scoop of vanilla ice cream fills the cone as Burntwood exhales.] SCP-8245: (Clapping) There we go! Although… Burntwood: Something wrong? SCP-8245: Uh, I don't see any toppings. No sprinkles, no nothing. [SCP-8245 inspects her ice cream.] SCP-8245: It's not even strawberry flavored. Isn't that your favorite? Burntwood: Oh… I mean, I guess you could say my tastes have shifted. [The specimen pauses, blinking several times.] SCP-8245: Hm, okay. Sorry, don't mean to judge. Burntwood: It's alright, it's alright. [They both proceed to eat their ice creams. Burntwood sighs.] SCP-8245: What's with the sigh? Burntwood: Nothing. SCP-8245: Sure it's nothing. Burntwood: No, it's just- uh, how do I say this… I'm amazed. All of this, everything you made here, it's just brimming with love and care and it's all so much to take in. The fact you've gotten so far with your arts, I can't help but feel… relieved. SCP-8245: Relieved? That's one way of wording it. Burntwood: Well, it's… you know, it's been pretty hard on my end lately. SCP-8245: (Frowns) How so? [Burntwood pauses then gulps.] Burntwood: I've been stuck in a slump, you could say. Down in the dumps, the days feel slow, you get the gist. Every time I pick up the pen, when I want to pour every word onto a page, every idea in my mind… [Silence.] Burntwood: …nothing. Restrained, chains on my wrists. I don't- I'm not sure how to put it into words, but it's like I'm dragging my feet through the mud every time I want to write. Thinking about everything, everyone… what they think. Almost as if it's better not to say anything at all, huh? SCP-8245: I never thought I'd hear those words from you, Abby. Burntwood: I have my doubts too, Will. I'm not as confident as you think. SCP-8245: Well, the Abby I knew would never hesitate to show me what wonders the pen can hold. I still recall those adventures you had with your main man Pete, as well as the rest of the critters. Burntwood: Oh, Pete… man, I really liked skunks back then. SCP-8245: Yeah, it was weird. Burntwood: Hey! SCP-8245: I'm just joking. It's really charming, honest. Burntwood: Ah, whatever. Either way, I'm glad those memories are intact. SCP-8245: Mm, right back at you. But it sucks knowing the writer's block you're in. I guess even you have your own issues to deal with. I thought you wouldn't have any trouble making a name for yourself. Burntwood: Please, it's not that easy. [SCP-8245 stares at her, squinting and appearing visibly concerned. Burntwood clutches her clipboard to her chest.] SCP-8245: Tell you what. [It stands up, dusting off its cloak.] SCP-8245: There's one last place I want to show you. Somewhere that can, I don't know, help you out of your predicament. Burntwood: Hm? SCP-8245: Look, this is all about passion. It's about how people like us can make a dent, how we can leave our mark on the world. And when it comes to the arts, it all begins with a little inspiration. That being said, I think it's time I return the favor. Burntwood: Return the favor? What does that- [The entity grabs Burntwood's hand and pulls her from the bench, leading her to the lake's edge. They both look down and see their reflection.] Burntwood: What, do you want us to jump in here? SCP-8245: Don't worry, it's just soda. Burntwood: No, but… where are we going this time? SCP-8245: Relax. Simply close your eyes and follow my lead. [Pause. Burntwood hesitates at first before doing so, inhaling deeply.] SCP-8245: Alright, on the count of three: One, two- [Both leap forward.] SCP-8245: -three! [They fall into the lake, being submerged immediatellfwiuyvv ????!!^$&*(*$!! CONNECTION LOST ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH CONNECTION CONNECTING… CONNECTING… … CONNECTION FOUND! ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8245" by winkwonkboi, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8245. 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: rainwork Name: Fireworks 1 Author: Robbie Biller License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: flying Name: I believe I can fly - I believe I can touch the sky… Author: Harold Kuiper License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: fishes Name: Chinese painting featuring two gold and two silver fish (ca.1800–1899) from the Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Art & Architecture Collection. Original from the New York Public Library. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel. Author: Free Public Domain Illustrations by rawpixel License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: elfreth Name: Elfreths Alley, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Author: Ken Lund License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: castle Name: Castle Island in Lough Key Forest Park Author: Apiechorowska License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: underwater Name: Under the water at Elphinstone Reef, Red Sea, Egypt #SCUBA Author: Derek Keats License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: winter Name: Snow Author: photoverulam License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: pinky Name: Cheery trees come with options for spring; being alive, surprise, the color pink, wet, grows in the cold, doesn't last, rooted in dirt, looks good against black, sings when the sun comes up, blossoms like mad, opens when ready, and isn't a snake Author: Wonderlane License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: coffee Name: Cup of coffee Author: Etenil License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: flowershower Name: More freesia in the rain Author: John-Morgan License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: balloons Name: Balloons in Cappadocia Author: MrHicks46 License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: wheatfield Name: Wheat field and trees Author: JPC24M License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: ANYWHERE.png, ANYTIME.png, youandme.png Author: winkwonkboi License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation |
SCP-8246 | thaumiel | SCP-8246: A Nice Old Lady Author: S D Locke Other works by S D Locke! SCPs S. D. Locke's Proposal Rating: 2622 SCP-5999 Rating: 1720 SCP-3280 Rating: 664 SCP-783 Rating: 586 SCP-2193 Rating: 528 SCP-3980 Rating: 523 SCP-1661 Rating: 281 SCP-2923 Rating: 243 SCP-2385 Rating: 236 SCP-3963 Rating: 227 SCP-4910 Rating: 226 SCP-8246 Rating: 171 SCPs Ihp/Locke Proposal Rating: 563 SCP-7676 Rating: 439 SCP-012-EX Rating: 203 SCP-7427 Rating: 144 SCP-5311 Rating: 136 SCP-6430 Rating: 126 SCP-7932 Rating: 103 SCP-6110 Rating: 89 Tales Not Fade Away Rating: 353 Reap What You Sew Rating: 107 Paradigm Shift Rating: 87 A Reason To Die Rating: 47 And Then I Died IV - Series 2 Rating: 33 Tales Heart and Sol Rating: 216 Slothcon Rating: 91 From Above Rating: 35 GOI Formats SPC-173 Rating: 301 SPC-2935 Rating: 153 LTE-2712-Bosch Rating: 153 P'rantortiz the Vile Rating: 139 GOI Formats ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item Number: SCP-8246 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8246 is currently housed at Site-19 in a standard humanoid containment cell. SCP-8246 is allowed seven skeins of synthetic yarn per calendar week. Replacement knitting needles and/or crochet hooks may also be provided on request. When communicating with SCP-8246 personnel are to note that it is deaf in its right ear. As well, it is suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's-related dementia, and believes itself to be in a long-term care facility; personnel are not to disabuse it of this notion. Each instance of SCP-8246-A is to be logged and fitted with a tracking chip. They are not permitted outside of a secure location. The introduction of SCP-8246-A to other anomalies must be approved by containment specialists for the anomaly in question, and requires authorization from at least 3-L5 personnel. D-Class testing of the instances must take place beforehand to determine their effects. Excess or disused instances of SCP-8246-A are to be kept in their host facility's respective secure storage area, or incinerated. Description: SCP-8246 (formerly Abigail Tatham of Salford, UK, age 93) is a human who manifests the ability to produce anomalous clothing (collectively referred to SCP-8246-A) by knitting or crocheting them. SCP-8246 has proven to be cooperative and genial when provided with sufficient stocks of yarn, and in its absence, suffers from debilitating migraines and depressive episodes. Knitwear and crocheted items produced by SCP-8246 present a number of anomalous attributes that are apparently tailored to the intended recipient's personal wants or needs. The anomalous nature of the items only manifests when they are being worn or otherwise used for their intended purpose. They are otherwise non-anomalous. As SCP-8246 works, it gains rudimentary knowledge of the intended recipient. Each recipient thus far has been determined to be within 1.5 km of SCP-8246, and each recipient since its capture has been within Site-19's proximity. SCP-8246 does not seem to possess agency in the selection process, nor is it capable of producing SCP-8246-A on command or by request. Prior to containment, two instances of SCP-8246-A had been recovered and assigned Anomalous Item Numbers. Upon the discovery of a third, an investigation was initiated by the Department of Analytics, which revealed the existence of SCP-8246. It was recovered discreetly by agents Gregorio and Went. SCP-8246 has no living relatives, and made little to no interaction with neighbors. An obituary for SCP-8246 was released. The following is a partial list of SCP-8246-A recovered following the capture of SCP-8246: A blue baby blanket. When this blanket is placed over a doll or similar humanoid toy, adult observers perceive the doll as a human infant. A turquoise scarf. When worn by a subject, grants the ability to sing in soprano voice, regardless of previous ability or vocal range. A brown washcloth. When used, it removes all scars, acne, burns and other blemishes from the user's skin. An orange beanie. When worn, it lowers the overall intelligence of the wearer significantly. A pair of adult-sized mint-green socks, knitted in a sawtooth pattern. D-Class personnel wearing them gained the ability to walk upright and with full traction on any surface at any incline, even on walls and ceilings. A white cap with ear flaps. Wearing the cap causes test subjects to become totally deaf for as long as they continue to wear the cap. Addendum: The following is a partial list of SCP-8246-A created in Foundation custody: Item Number Description/Traits Notes SCP-8246-Q*BERT A multicolor cardigan. While worn, projects the mental image of a smiling clown to humans within eyeshot of the individual. Believed to have been knitted for Jonas S██████, who had been transferred to Site-19 following a four-month assignment at Site-2170. The item was relinquished to the aforementioned facility to assist in containment. SCP-8246-XEVIOUS A rainbow beanie. Intangible, sparkling insects resembling members of the order lepidoptera manifest within 5m of the wearer. Currently located in Researcher Kiryu's office. SCP-8246-DIGDUG A pair of black gloves. While worn, the fingers elongate and broaden, forming claws similar to a mole's. Greatly improves the wearer's nocturnal vision. Three members of the Chaos Insurgency were found to be occupying a tunnel beneath the facility, which had been dug out over the past few months. All three were captured and relocated to Armed Site-12 for interrogation. SCP-8246-FUZZBALL A small dog sweater. Test subjects that managed to fit their hands inside reported feeling content, and described an overwhelming feeling of being loved. Based off SCP-8246's description of the intended recipient, the item was placed on SCP-1424. SCP-1424's pattern of movement has not changed, though now it wags its tail while doing so. SCP-8246-PITFALL A pair of lime-green socks. While worn, physically alters subject's feet into prehensile appendages similar to a monkey's paw. The change is painless, instantaneous, and reverts upon removal. SCP-8246 stated that the item was intended for SCP-2338-10. The object's handler, Ryoko Sato, has since reported that SCP-2338-10's podal dexterity has improved to the point of being able to write legibly. The instance utilized their newfound capability to draw a 'Thank You' letter in crayon, which was delivered to SCP-8246. SCP-8246-TERRANIGMA A mauve sweater (size XXXL). Instills intense feelings of being watched in wearers. Requested for use in containing SCP-173. Several D-Class were sent into its chamber, and managed to fit it on the anomaly. Testing was carried out, wherein all but a single D-Class were withdrawn from the chamber. SCP-173 did not move when the D-Class blinked, nor when he closed his eyes for several minutes. SCP-8246-TERRANIGMA was found to be neutralized after several weeks of wear, after being soiled with a combination of feces and blood. SCP-8246-GECKO A Voluminous black four full-sleeved sweater, approximately 5.5 cm in thickness, featuring an embroidered white anthropomorphic grinning skull on its posterior aspect. Six test subjects wore the garment simultaneously, with no reported abnormal behavior. SCP-8246 mandated SCP-682's exclusive use of the "special" sweater. After temporarily sedating SCP-682, four D-class personnel were instructed to apply the garment. Upon regaining consciousness, SCP-682 unexpectedly displayed non-aggressive behavior, assuming a supine position and requesting a belly rub while playfully wagging its tail. During compliance, a D-class inadvertently damaged SCP-8246-GECKO, triggering SCP-682's rage state and leading to termination of all present individuals. SCP-682 vocalized its dissatisfaction, declaring the item as "Damaged like your brains." ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8246" by S D Locke, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8246. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8247 | euclid | close Info X CW: This article includes mentions of humans being mauled, although it is not graphic. Viewer discretion is advised. ⚠️ content warning Item #: SCP-8247 An instance of SCP-8247 in an active state. An instance of SCP-8247 in an inactive state. Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-8247 are each to be kept in large, separate animal enclosures at Site-908. SCP-8247 instances are to be provided with appropriate food, water, and enrichment daily. As SCP-8247 instances can transform at will, Foundation Personnel are to approach instances of SCP-8247 with extreme caution. Access to the enclosures outside of providing SCP-8247 instances with their daily needs is not permitted. Reports of wild animals and/or house pets that show behaviors or abilities that align with documented information about SCP-8247 instances are to be monitored by the SCP-8247 research team in cases of possible containment breaches. All witnesses of SCP-8247 are to be administered amnestics and released. Diamond Summers may be allowed to visit SCP-8247-A27 for three hours twice a day during its meal times. Summers is permitted to feed SCP-8247-A by hand. Description: SCP-8247 refers to an anomalous subspecies of felines. SCP-8247 instances possess the ability to transform into a Bengal Tiger at will. SCP-8247 instances have often been observed to display violent tendencies, often attacking and consuming other animals and humans. Despite their primal behaviors, instances demonstrate behaviors of a typical house cat regardless of which form they are currently in. SCP-8247 instances do not require raw meat and are capable of surviving on processed cat food, although larger portions are required and instances still exhibit a preference for fresh meat. Despite anatomy differences, SCP-8247 maintain behavioral traits influenced by the anatomy of big cats, such as the inability to purr except when exhaling. There are currently 247 instances of SCP-8247 in containment. Addendum-1-Findings: The following are relevant media discovered of a notable SCP-8247 instance (dubbed SCP-8247-A27) found by the Foundation in deduced chronological order. This includes social media posts on the platform Instagram and journal logs by its owner, Diamond Summers. This is the only SCP-8247 instance known to be a house pet. meaganthekittycat ••• 249 likes meaganthekittycat Today is our last day in our apartment! Moving into the new house tomorrow! Hopefully there will be lots of room for Meagan to roam and lay down! View all 24 comments Add a comment… May 6th, 2021 So my therapist (before money became an issue) suggested this journaling thing, so hello journal lol. Anyways, I can’t fucking BELIEVE I’m getting evicted from my apartment. And my only option is to move in with my aunt and uncle They fucking hate me. They’ve always thought internet influencer wasn’t a ‘real job’. But they offered to let me live with them, probably just so they can boss me around tbh They've always been so bossy, even when I was a fucking kid. They always yelled at me and called me lazy and shit, and still do. Like they'd even insult my parents for letting me turn out the way I did. Anyway at least I’ve got Meagan, she’s always been so sweet meaganthekittycat ••• 224 likes meaganthekittycat We've moved into our new house! Meagan gets along with our roommates rather well! View all 19 comments Add a comment… meaganthekittycat ••• 220 likes meaganthekittycat Taking Meagan to the vet to get her checked out! Everyone wish her luck at the vet! View all 25 comments Add a comment… May 12th Ever since we got here, Meagan has been acting very strange. She’s been hissing and scratching my aunt and uncle and once she even bit my aunt. They’re threatening to call animal control if I don’t have her checked out I don’t know what I’m going to do Poor Meagan doesn’t even seem to notice she’s in danger, she’s just been cuddling up with me at night and licking my face I don’t deserve her May 14th Thank fuck I have a job interview in 2 weeks just about. The closer I am to getting a job, the closer I am to getting out of here. Being an influencer is not paying as well as I thought it would. I’m just not popular enough and sponsors are so hard to come by these days. Maybe they were right. Maybe being an influencer isn’t a real job, I shouldn’t have quit my job meaganthekittycat ••• 270 likes meaganthekittycat Hey guys! I've noticed something kind funny about Meagan. She only purrs when she exhales! Do any of your cats do this? Like she doesn't purr normally. I wonder if it's the breed she is, which I actually don't know lol. View all 30 comments Add a comment… meaganthekittycat ••• 257 likes meaganthekittycat Hey guys! I have a few questions I was hoping you could answer. So Meagan has always had a bit of a large appetite LOL. I was wondering- firstly, do any of you have cats with large appetites? And how do you afford all that food? Cause she sure is running me dry! :P View all 29 comments Add a comment… May 22nd It was a mistake asking Rachel and Todd for help with cat food they just fucking screamed at me and said "IF YOU CANT AFFORD IT GET RID OF THE DAMN CAT" I wish Meagan didn't eat so much I love her but she has the biggest appetite of any cat I've ever seen in my entire fucking life May 20th im shaking so badly rn my whole life has just been turn upside down a lot just happened and why im even still writing in this thing I dont know they tried to throw Meagan out of the house when I was asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night to get water and I heard meowing by the front door, so I opened it and I FUCKING FOUND HER OUTSIDE I KNOW SHE WOULDNT HAVE GOTTEN OUT ON HER OWN SHE HATES GOING OUTDOORS So I go and wake the fuckers up and confront them and they just scoffed and said ‘it’s not a big deal’ so I tell them 'YES IT IS THATS MY CAT SHES MY BABY' and they're like 'its always about the damn cat' and we argued for awhile about meagan and how I only care about the cat and how they hate me and that im worthless and I need to do something worthwhile and then eventually Todd jumps out of bed and grabs me by the collar and punches me screaming at me to shut up and then theres a fucking tiger in the room blood and guts and gore they're gone then it just walked up to me afterwards, turned into MEAGAN, and rubbed against me like nothing happened what am I supposed to do meagan is a tiger my aunt and uncle are fucking dead its a gory mess in here im fucking terrified May 20th I have to get out of here the police are going to come and find me and they'll blame me for this should I take meagan with me? what if she just eats me but I can't just leave her im all shes ever known but I just I dont know what to do meaganthekittycat ••• 304 likes meaganthekittycat Guys I think something is seriously wrong with Meagan View all 37 comments Add a comment… Addendum-2-Police-Reports: On June 8th, 2021, Diamond Summers and her cat Meagan were reported missing by the local Police Department after the discovery of the bodies of Rachel and Todd Smith. Summers had left behind all personal belongings, including all electronics. Summers was later discovered on June 17th in Saint Joseph, Michigan, approximately two hours away from her hometown of Joliet, Illinois. Summers' was discovered when local reports of a tiger mauling local residents were released. Upon Summers' apprehension, physical notes were found on her person. June 9th I had to go I had to protect Meagan people would find out they were going to look for her and I couldn't have that I know im homeless now but I was going to be anyway its worth it June 10th I just realized how am I gonna feed her I dont have cat food shes a fucking tiger what if she eats someone again what if she eats me shes never attacked me before but what if she does it when she goes hungry shit June 12th I haven't given her something to eat in like 3 days we're both starving all she's had is grass shes started to lick me for no reason im scared June 13th I don't think I trust Meagan anymore shes been acting really weird shes been randomly turning into her tiger form for no reason I do not like this how did I ever trust her why did I do this maybe I should go back and just turn her into the authorities save my own skin shes just a cat June 14th she did it again someone tried to talk to us and she ate them she can't keep doing this I begged her to stop and I think she understands June 14th Oh my god he had a knife I think he was gonna try to mug me or something she did it to protect me not because she was hungry why do I keep doubting her I'm such a terrible cat owner she loves me and I love her meagan I love you Addendum-3-Interview: Diamond Summers was taken into by the Foundation on June 20th, 2021. Summers' was later interviewed about SCP-8247-A27. This interview took place before SCP-8247’s file was created. Open Interview - Close Interviewed: Diamond Summers Interviewer: Researcher Cara Sandals Foreword: Researcher Cara Sandals of the Zoology department at Site-908 was tasked with interviewing Diamond Summers, the owner of SCP-8247-A27. <Begin Log> Sandals: Hello, Diamond. I appreciate you coming to talk with me about Meagan. Summers: Uh… hello? You said you wanted to like, study her. You’re not going to poke and prod her with needles or anything are you? Researcher Sandals laughs. Sandals: Oh, no. It’s closer to observing her. But no poking or prodding involved. Summers: Good. Also, just for your information, the people she hurt were in self-defense! She doesn’t just attack people for no reason she’s not dangerous just because she’s a tiger! Sandals: Diamond, I understand your defensiveness, but I’m going to ask you to calm down. I didn’t accuse her of being dangerous. You seem to know a lot about her. Summers: Of course I know a lot about her, she’s my cat! I’ve had her since she was a kitten. And are you sure you don’t think she’s dangerous? I don't believe that you don't! Sandals: While others like Meagan have shown violent tendencies, Meagan herself has not. I’ve worked with animals a long time. I can tell when one is bonded to a human the way Meagan is bonded to you. I do not think she’s dangerous. I think she’s protective. Summers: I still don't believe you! I still don't believe you won't take her away from me! Wait- others like her? There are others like Meagan? Sandals: Yes. We currently have other instances in containment. As I said, you seem quite knowledgeable about the species. What else have you observed about Meagan? Summers: Observed? Like what? Like what she likes to do? Why do you want to know that? So you can use it against her? Sandals: Like behaviors, natural instincts, likes, dislikes. Stuff like that. And no, not to use it against her. To help her. Please just answer the question. Summers: Ugh, fine. Um… she eats. Summers pauses, then laughs. Summers: A lot. Like she’s got this huge appetite! But that makes sense with the tiger thing now. Sandals: Bengal tigers can eat as much as sixty to seventy-five pounds of food in one night. The instances we currently contain have all been observed to eat a lot of animals and people. But it seems Meagan was able to survive off of cat food. Visible discomfort is seen on Summers’ face. Summers: Egh, I could never imagine Meagan doing such a thing. She’s a sweetheart, she really is. Yeah, but she eats a lot of it like I said. Um, she also doesn’t purr right. Like she only purrs when she exhales. Sandals: That’s another natural behavior of a tiger. I’m surprised that didn’t set you off to there something being off sooner. Summers: Me too, to be honest. Recently I made a post asking my Instagram followers about it, but I never looked at the comments. Still, this all confuses me. What's your goal here? Sandals: I get that. We’re not all thinking about things like that too hard. Our goal is to help Meagan as I already said. Anything else you've observed? Summers: Yeah. I’ve found Meagan really likes to play with toys. Have you tried toys with the other instances? Meagan really loves those wands that have the feathers and worms you know? Sandals: We have not. Currently, we just feed them and give them places to climb and such. Summers: The fact that you call them 'instances' tells me a lot. Even though they’re tigers, maybe they’d be happier if you played with them! They’re cats too! Maybe you just haven’t found some of their playful sides. Cats often get what seems to be violent when they really just want to play. Sandals: That’s true. That’s a very common house cat behavior. Sandals sets down her clipboard. Sandals: Diamond. You’re very knowledgeable about Meagan. Which leads us to believe that you may be of some help to us here. Meagan has also already shown to not like to be distanced from you for too long. It’s been a week and she’s already injured three staff members and attempted to injure two more. Before this interview, I was discussing something with my colleagues, and you've only further proven yourself here. We would like to offer you an opportunity. Summers gasps. Summers: What kind of opportunity? Sandals: The kind where we allow you to continue to see Meagan. As we see you’re currently homeless, we will house you and provide you with basic needs. In exchange, you will help us study and take care of Meagan, and possibly other instances of SCP-8247 if it is deemed safe. Summers: I… I get to keep Meagan? So you were serious about helping her? Now I feel kind of bad for doubting you. Sandals: You can’t live with her anymore. But you will be allowed to visit her. How often is yet to be determined. What do you say? Summers: I… of course. I’m not really in the position to turn you down. I’d love to help you. Thank you. Thank you so much. Sandals: No problem, Diamond. Now, Meagan is probably waiting to see you. <End Log> Closing Statement: As of June 25th, 2021, Diamond Summers has been granted Level 0 clearance with some exceptions. Allowing Diamond Summers access to interact with other instances of SCP-8247 is currently pending. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8247" by DianaBerry, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8247. 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: commented.png Author: Fish^12 License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/collab:mombun-and-fish-12/commented.png Filename: comment.png Author: Fish^12 License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/collab:mombun-and-fish-12/comment.png Filename: liked.png Author: Fish^12 License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/collab:mombun-and-fish-12/liked.png Filename: likes.png Author: Fish^12 License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/collab:mombun-and-fish-12/likes.png Filename: shared.png Author: Fish^12 License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/collab:mombun-and-fish-12/shared.png Filename: share.png Author: Fish^12 License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/collab:mombun-and-fish-12/share.png Filename: blank Author: DianaBerry License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/well-she-s-harmless-to-me/blank Filename: M1 Author: DianaBerry License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/well-she-s-harmless-to-me/M1 Filename: M2 Author: DianaBerry License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/well-she-s-harmless-to-me/M2 Filename: M3 Author: DianaBerry License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/well-she-s-harmless-to-me/M3 Filename: M4 Author: DianaBerry License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/well-she-s-harmless-to-me/M4 Filename: M5 Author: DianaBerry License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-sandbox-3.wikidot.com/local--files/well-she-s-harmless-to-me/M5 Filename: tiger Name: Tiger in Ranthambhore.jpg Author: Bjørn Christian Tørrissen License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tiger_in_Ranthambhore.jpg Filename: cat1 Name: Domestic cat (Barras) (photo 2012; cropped 2022).JPG Author: Barras License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Domestic_cat_(Barras)_(photo_2012;_cropped_2022).JPG |
SCP-8249 | apollyon | Legends abound of Adam of the Transient, the greatest hero of his era, defender of his kind. An ancient oath he has inherited, and in fulfilment of it, there has yet been no trial he couldn't overcome. Could this be the one he cannot? VIDEO LOG DATE: March 12, 2024 LOCATION: Site-87 (Nx-18 / Sloth’s Pit, Wisconsin) [BEGIN LOG] [Footage depicts a large containment room with SCP-████, a Holland-class submarine, in the centre. There are several Foundation researchers using equipment and terminals situated around the anomaly to study it.] [A faint light becomes visible through the west wall, shining through the opaque brickwork from a point beyond it; several researches notice this and highlight it to the others. The light slowly grows in intensity, and everyone present moves away from the wall.] [A figure in a crimson cloak stumbles backward out of the wall, tripping over a power cable and falling onto their back. Seconds later a white horse with rider emerges at full gallop, colliding with a desk and flinging the rider a moderate distance as the horse tumbles. Both jump back to their feet, the rider glancing about wildly before calming his horse and mounting it again.] [The researchers all abandon their tasks and run for the room’s sole exit, one triggering the room’s containment alarm as they go. The siren startles all three entities; cloaked figure rolls over and covers their ears, while the rider soothes the horse again and spurs it to follow the fleeing researchers.] [The robed figure briefly looks toward the west wall, then sprints toward the exit; the last of the researchers escape, and the room’s doors close and lock behind them. The figure searches for a way to open the doors, but finding none looks for a different escape route.] [The robed figure runs to a toppled desk nearby and hides behind it.] [The rider and their horse gallop down several hallways throughout Site-87, travelling as quickly as the latter is willing to go; security personnel have by now triggered the site-wide breach alarm. They follow the direction of any Foundation personnel they encounter — who are forced to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled — and otherwise blindly maintain their current direction, turning randomly whenever forced to. When clearly seen, the rider’s face is completely tattooed, and his expression is of fear and confusion.] [The horse turns a corner and encounters a small security team who raise their weapons. The rider forces the horse to stop and rear on its hind legs — nearly falling off as it does — so it can turn back around and flee.] [A short while after the pair find their way to the Site-87 main freight reception, where cargo trucks are being used to allow the loading bay doors to be closed; the last is shut shortly after they arrive, giving a brief glimpse of the site’s exterior beyond. The sparse few security personnel ready their weapons and signal for the rider to dismount and surrender.] [The rider tightens their grip on the reigns. He says something and performs a gesture, causing a string of tattoos along one arm to glow, then point at the recently-closed door; a ball of fire launches from his fingertips and violently explodes on impact, creating a large hole to the facility’s exterior. Nearby personnel are knocked to the ground or stunned by the blast. The horse panics, but the rider manages to stay mounted and calms the horse enough to spur it through the hole.] [The horse gallops up the basement ramp then along the adjoining fenced area, jumping over the boom gate and onto the main street of Sloth’s Pit. The rider briefly pauses to search the surroundings, particularly lingering on the nightlife of Sloth’s Pit, then steers his horse into the nearby forest, disappearing into the darkness between the trees.] [END LOG] Afterword: SCP designation of the incident and entities involved is pending. The robed entity was captured by security personnel several minutes later, apologising for intruding into ‘Triumvirate’s domain’ and offering an exchange of information for its freedom. Item #: SCP-8249 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8249-A is uncontained, and currently travelling approximately north-west along the Canada-United States border. SCP-8249-A must be captured by non-lethal means; extreme caution must be exercised as the entity is highly non-cooperative and possesses advanced thaumaturgic capabilities, however SCP-8249-A is not openly aggressive or hostile unless provoked. SCP-8249-C currently resides in a temporary humanoid containment chamber at Site-87, and is provided with standard humanoid meal rations. SCP-8249-C is compliant with Foundation personnel and inquiries, and will willingly exchange information with others; it is unclear to what extent the information they provide is embellished, however, and personnel must avoid divulging information to SCP-8249-C without approval from assigned supervisors. Description: SCP-8249 designates several entities and their possessions, which appeared in the temporary containment chamber of SCP-████ at Site-87 on March 12, 2024. Despite manifesting within and possessing characteristics typical of Nexus-18, the constituents of SCP-8249 are able to leave the Nexus without degredation of their properties. SCP-8249-A is a human male individual identified by SCP-8249-C as ‘Adam of the Transient.’ The individual’s skin is completely tattooed with monochromatic, unidentified glyphs, which enable SCP-8249-A to perform advanced thaumaturgic spells. SCP-8249-A possesses two swords, both reportedly anomalous, and a white mare with abnormal stamina used for transportation. SCP-8249-C claims SCP-8249-A is a prolific hero-figure in their reality of origin, with recounted stories of their exploits extolling SCP-8249-A’s moral character and combat prowess, especially in sword fighting; it is unclear to what extent SCP-8249-C has embellished these stories for dramatic effect. SCP-8249-A has consistently avoided population centres, and only approaches solitary individuals for brief periods of time. SCP-8249-C is a humanoid entity reportedly referred to by SCP-8249-A as ‘Bard.’ The entity’s physical characteristics have continuously changed throughout containment, including height, weight, eye colour, scarring, and so on; although SCP-8249-C has always maintained the general appearance of a human, the entity has not elaborated whether this is a limitation in ability or simply personal preference. The robe worn by SCP-8249-C exhibits similar properties, and is the entity's prefered clothing. Addendum 2: Interview of SCP-8249-C Interviewed: SCP-8249-C Interviewer: Researcher Le Guin [BEGIN LOG] [SCP-8249-C is standing in the corner of an interview room, staring up at the surveillance camera. Researcher Le Guin enters the room, closing the door behind her; SCP-8249-C turns at the noise and points at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Good evening, Anomaly Dash-C. I am Wynne Le Guin. I would like to ask you some questions if I could. SCP-8249-C: What is it? [Researcher Le Guin sits down at the interview table.] Researcher Le Guin: That is a camera. Please, take a seat. SCP-8249-C: What does it do? Researcher Le Guin: It is a surveillance device. It records what it sees and allows my associates to watch us. Please, sit, so we can begin. [SCP-8249-C turns back and stares at the camera.] SCP-8249-C: A Triumvirate looking-glass. Fascinating. [SCP-8249-C reaches up to touch the camera, but are too short; they hop repeatedly but still fail to reach it.] Researcher Le Guin: Please leave it alone. If you sit — SCP-8249-C: Ask away, I don’t need to sit. [SCP-8249-C continues jumping for a short while, then stops and simply stares at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Very well. Your name, please? SCP-8249-C: Which? Researcher Le Guin: Which…? [SCP-8249-C turns to Le Guin, counting off using their fingers.] SCP-8249-C: Trinculo, Albertine, Samson, Eltevar, Wordmaker, Marie-anne, Goldervas, Malcheron, One-who-walks-beneath-well-woven-crimson-robes… as with those of Ebutapakht, I have many names for many purposes. If you want only one, be very specific. Researcher Le Guin: Your birth name, then. [SCP-8249-C shakes their head and turns back to the camera. Their eyes are now green.] SCP-8249-C: I had none when I was born, but through many years of toil I now possess at least three hundred. Researcher Le Guin: You have over three hundred different aliases? SCP-8249-C: That’s what I said, yes. A fine collection if I do say so myself, and all of them worth it. Researcher Le Guin: I… see. Do you have a preferred alias, then? One you use the most? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: That would be ‘Bard’, though it isn’t a preference, for I have none. But Adam always calls me Bard, and he speaks of me the most, though rarely in happy tones. Researcher Le Guin: May I call you Bard, then? SCP-8249-C: If you wish, though if you have other names to offer I will be happy to accept them. Probably. Not Svaldi, for reasons you should understand. What was it you called me before? Researcher Le Guin: Anomaly Dash-C. [A pause; SCP-8249-C bobbles their head in thought.] SCP-8249-C: No. Not that one. Researcher Le Guin: I will refer to you as Bard, then. To begin: how did you come to be here? [SCP-8249-C laughs, then turns to face Researcher Le Guin, raising their arms for dramatic effect.] SCP-8249-C: There I was, standing amongst the towering pillars in the hall of Old King Enbarr, a great and cavernous space the size of which you could scarce compare to any elsewhere; before me — at a fair distance, of course, but not too far — was a mighty clash of man against monster, the valiant Adam of the Transient embroiled against one of the fiercest forces among the unseen lord’s host. An archon, no less! What a battle it was! Many times Adam came close to death, but he deftly dodged — Researcher Le Guin: Please, Bard. If you could summarise — SCP-8249-C: Shh! He, Adam, darted behind the mighty columns of the place, escaping the frightful oblivion-flame which sought him, instead scouring the impeccable designs from all it touched, leaving only basest details behind; so too did he evade the ruinous blows of mighty limbs, which found purchase in many pillars and tore them asunder. Such destruction will scar that one-mighty hall forevermore — and the sound! The cries of archon, the roars of Adam, the smashing of stone against stone. All of it ringing out evermore, echoing through eternity as though that lone battle was one of millions, and none would ever reach their close. The spectacle of it was grand to behold! Researcher Le Guin: But how did you arrive here? SCP-8249-C: The battle turned, and sourly so. I will witness such feats from afar with ease and glee; but when harm comes my way, I am less courageous, and more eager to flee. I… I saw the turn and moved to run — and then in an instant, I found myself here, and Adam shortly thereafter. Researcher Le Guin: You don’t remember anything happening in-between? SCP-8249-C: One step was there, the next was here. I know nothing further, other than that it was not my design to intrude upon Triumvirate’s domain. Adam may know, perhaps. Researcher Le Guin: And Adam would be the one who came here with you? Riding the horse? [A pause. SCP-8249-C steps over to the interview table and sits down.] SCP-8249-C: You… did not recognise him? Researcher Le Guin: No. Should I? SCP-8249-C: Do you know who he is? Adam of the Transient? Researcher Le Guin: I do not, no. [A pause. SCP-8249-C looks around.] SCP-8249-C: Fascinating. Researcher Le Guin: Care to explain? [No response.] Researcher Le Guin: Bard? SCP-8249-C: I thought you were Triumvirate by the design of this place, but… do you even know anything of the Three Eternal Tyrants? [A pause; Researcher Le Guin doesn’t respond. SCP-8249-C nods, leaning back in their seat.] SCP-8249-C: A land so far beyond Tyrant’s reach, they are beyond all thought. How… how fascinating. But you are questioning me to learn, are you not? Researcher Le Guin: Will you cooperate? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: I am not called Bard without reason. It is a great honour to bring these tales to this land — of the endless warring between the ever-covetous Three Eternal Tyrants, of the heroes of the Transient kingdoms, even of the treacherous Svaldi Storm-in-the-Eye. But you want to know first of Adam of the Transient, do you not? I will gladly tell you of our yet-greatest hero, of his insurmountable might, his indominable will, his enduring, unwavering resolve. Researcher Le Guin: Thank you. If you could begin by — SCP-8249-C: But a bard must earn their keep. I expect food, drink, and shelter; I am similarly interested to learn of your lands as well. Each saga shall be met with your own. Researcher Le Guin: I will have to discuss with my superiors, but I believe we will be able to meet those terms. SCP-8249-C: I am not to be interrupted while speaking. I will tell my tale in full, then I may be asked for clarity on points. Researcher Le Guin: That is… workable, but an interview format would be most beneficial to learn facts — SCP-8249-C:Ah, I see. You are only interested in facts? Of names, times, and places, devoid of flair and soul, drained of the atmosphere and circumstances they took place within? That is what you want to hear from me? Researcher Le Guin: That would be preferred, yes. [SCP-8249-C crosses their arms.] SCP-8249-C: Tough shit. The emotion and vigour of events are as valuable as what you seek. You will hear both, or you will hear neither. Go, survey my conditions. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-C refused to communicate for the remainder of the interview. The entity’s terms were accepted. Addendum 3: Narrative Provided by SCP-8249-C regarding SCP-8249-A ‘Of the Origins of Adam of the Transient and the Inheritance of the Sword of Ages’ Where else should one begin with the legends of the great Adam of the Transient, than with the first? Yes! To understand that mighty hero’s drive toward his later magnificent triumphs, you must first know of how he gained the Sword of Ages, and became the man known as Adam. No other can claim greater rise than he, for the growing dawn of his epics was wrought from the passing of a great and deepest darkness, as the final hours of a night. His birthplace once was a great and mighty city, the crowning jewel of a prosperous Transient kingdom, but as all others it changed into ruin among the unending turmoil between the Three Eternal Tyrants. A crowning jewel, but not their own; each sought to claim it their own by divine right, or otherwise deny it the others. So Adam was born the company of farmers, not lords, and among the crumbling, scorched ruins of what once was, night-worthless in the eyes of his kind and in the eyes of the greater powers whose designs made it so. He grew as all his kin did, hearing his elders recount the glory of those bygone golden days as he tilled the earth and shovelled slop. He heard memories of traders ever-coming and ever-going, where now only taxmen come to collect each Tyrant’s tithe; he learned of the soaring beauty of the city, of grand, towering buildings and the mighty, indominable walls that protected them, now lying sundered among fields between beggars’ homes that leak beneath rain; he envisioned men, women, and children of might and opulence, celebrating bountiful boons in flowing robes of silk, purple, and gold, but saw in present only brethren in sackcloth toiling through mud, and often their only celebration was to sleep with satisfied bellies. Adam coveted those days — an age he had never seen nor truly known, except as seen through fading, idyllic memories and the promise of crumbling ruins before they were torn down, yielding room for the burdens of the lesser present. Time and toil tried to erode him too, but Adam held fast in his hope that those greater days could be reclaimed. Even until he came of age, and shouldered the worries it brought; even until a year and half after, when to the crumbling village came an aged man with an aged sword. No name did he give, but one proven false in time; he I had better call Saul, as elsewise he will be let nameless, for his true name is lost within time. He spoke of faraway lands unimagined by the farmers, too focused on scavenging endless tithes to dwell upon useless ideas such as ‘elsewhere.’ He brought news of the Tyrants’ unending bickering — of borders moved, dominions expanded, lands ravaged, salted, scorched, ruined. The domains of the Transients were leaderless and dwindling; Adam’s kin turned their thoughts to which Tyrants they would last longest beneath, which to swear hopeless fealty to. Adam alone asked what could yet be done, how their home might be saved, how those of transient lives, power, and focus might be spared a Tyrant’s rule. He was not mocked, for though unspoken the others around him wondered how it could be done — but not if, as the thought had long ago been relegated to fanciful impossibility, banished by the evidence around them that it had once been but would not endure. They harboured no hope for greater days, even as Saul said it could be done, if one would but take up the mantle; so Adam did, when no-one else would. From summer’s dawn to winter’s peak the wizened man stayed in their company, each entrusted into care of the other. Saul had been a swordsman of renown in his own time, he said; he taught Adam to the greatest extent he could, and Adam in turn shirked many of his responsibilities to devote greater time to the training. By autumn he kept only what was needed to feed himself and his teacher, the rest given to others who benefitted well from his springtime sowing; once harvest passed Adam devoted nigh on every waking moment to his training, though Saul’s health was dwindling, and the extent to which he taught shortened with every passing day. By winter’s rise all he could do was speak from what would be his deathbed, and shortly thereafter his words changed from education to self-reflection. The prime of Saul’s exploits had coincided with the faded Transient golden age, for the former had wrought the latter; the Three Eternal Tyrants can never be bested except by each-other — and dare I say, if even that — and none of them are tolerant of Transients forever. But their eternal conflict could be controlled, maintained at a balanced, perpetual deadlock, leaving the Transient kingdoms untouched within the eye of the storm. This had been Saul’s aspiration, as it had been his predecessors, and so too would it be Adam’s; for a perpetual deadlock demands perpetual maintenance, and the duty need be passed once those pursuing it are weakened and slowed by age, else the storm’s eye would close forevermore upon the Transients thriving within. Saul had succeeded for many a decade, but his works were undone early, brought to ruin by the treachery of the once-great Skadi Storm-in-the-Eye — but that is another tale. Saul was found passed on the dawn of winter’s solstice, his life and body well full of years and the wearies they bring. He was buried among the heart of the ruins; the crowning jewel of a kingdom which flourished with his protection, and crumbled once without. None knew much of him but Adam, and he found few words in mind, fewer still he could bear to speak. Adam’s mourning did not soften until the winter did in kind. When the last snow fell and the first birds sung again, his mind turned toward fulfilling the duty he had been entrusted. He took up his tutor’s blade, the ancient Sword of Ages; a legendary blade passed down for untold aeons through innumerable revered heroes, the emblem and reminder of their unending duty to distract the Three Tyrants — a sword often spoken of in Transient epics, the persistent thorn which defied all greater powers, but scarcely recognised through its mundane, unassuming appearance. Many times it had been forgotten or lost; always it returned, and new wielder would carve the Transients’ golden age anew. Adam’s final farewell came when the roads to elsewhere were clear once more. His kindred found him both familiar and unknown, the man who grew among them and someone new, someone greater than had been seen in many an age. Those who had lived during the greater days found his stature bringing memories of that time to mind, and they bid him good parting, their hearts housing a newfound glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, those greater days could be again. He departed alone with only his sword and name to him. He was not yet certain where he was going, but he found his way in time. Ever since, the tales of Adam of the Transient have grown and grown — tales of trials, tales of triumph. Stories of might, and stories of hope. Note/s: Story exchanged for the history of the Sea Peoples, as known by consensus society. SCP-8249-C was predominantly uninterested in the records, excluding recounts of known battles and speculation on the Sea People’s origins; SCP-8249-C accepted the exchange, but clarified they would only accept prose narratives in future. The Brothers Grimm rendition of Little Red Riding Hood was offered to and accepted by SCP-8249-C to appease it. Addendum 4: SCP-8249-A Capture On July 26, 2024, a civilian in the region of Swift Current, Saskatchewan reported to emergency services that an individual matching SCP-8249-A’s description was in urgent need of medical help; a Foundation task force was dispatched under the guise of paramedics, however SCP-8249-A fled the scene before they could arrive. Two hours later a second, similar call was received, and the task force was dispatched again. [BEGIN LOG] [Four agents are in an ambulance, driving down a gravel road at speed; Agents John Martin and Ben Jacques are in the front wearing paramedic uniforms, while Agents Roland King and Esther Lewis are in the patient compartment, wearing Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniforms. Agent Martin turns the vehicle onto a driveway leading toward a homestead, where a man is waving both arms for attention.] Agent Martin: Look, the horse — he’s still here. [Agent Martin points at SCP-8249-A’s horse, grazing near the front of the house; it looks up at the approaching vehicle and panics, bucking about. The civilian attempts to calm it.] Agent Martin: Get ready back there, he’s probably going to run again! [All four agents pre-emptively remove their seatbelts; Agent Jacques mumbles and makes the sign of the cross, while Agent King prepares a tranquiliser rifle. The horse becomes increasingly erratic the closer the vehicle gets to the house. SCP-8249-A is briefly seen through a downstairs window.] Agent Martin: We’re made, go! Go! [The vehicle skids to a halt and all four agents jump out in unison, non-lethal weapons drawn; the civilian raises their hands. A shrill whistle is heard from the house, and the horse sets off toward the rear; Agent King hits its flank with a tranquiliser dart. Agent Lewis pursues the horse; Agent Roland navigates to the other side of the building; Agents Martin and Jacques enter through the front door, seeing SCP-8249-A flee through the back.] Agent Martin: Stop! [Agents Martin and Jacques pursue; there is a loud crash as SCP-8249-A topples a freestanding shelf to block the door, forcing them to turn back. Agent Lewis reaches the back of the house as SCP-8249-A attempts to mount the horse with a running vault as it passes, but a significant limp prevents him from completing the manoeuvre and he falls off after a short distance, screaming in pain as he tumbles. Agent Lewis rushes in to restrain him as Agent King appears at the opposite end of the building, the horse galloping past and beginning a wide turn.] [SCP-8249-A tries to climb back to his feet, but Agent Lewis pushes him back down, eliciting a shout of pain and another whistle. The two struggle briefly, however SCP-8249-A is visibly sluggish and his breathing is loud and heavy.] Agent Lewis: Stop resisting! Adam, we’re trying — Agent King: Esther, move! [Agent King pulls Agent Lewis away as the horse charges over, rearing on its hind legs to attack and forcing the pair back. Agents Martin and Jacques arrive, and the four agents spread out to encircle SCP-8249-A, but are kept at bay by the horse.] Agent Lewis: Roland, did you get it? Agent King: I got it, just give it a minute or two! [SCP-8249-A slowly gets to his feet, putting all his weight on one leg, then attempts to mount his horse again; he is again unsuccessful, partially dislodging the saddle, and is unable to try again as the horse becomes unsteady, stumbling away before collapsing onto the ground. SCP-8249-A draws a sword, constantly turning and looking about, tracking the four agents positioned around him. His stance is unsteady.] Agent Jacques: Adam, I need to help the horse, and I need to help you. Just calm down, and let’s talk. [SCP-8249-A steadies his grip. Agent King subtly draws his taser and nods to Agent Martin, who is positioned on the opposite side of SCP-8249-A.] Agent Martin: Hey! [SCP-8249-A turns to Agent Martin; Agent King fires his taser into SCP-8249-A’s back. He seizes and drops his sword, then falls face-first into the ground; Agents Martin and Lewis rush in to restrain SCP-8249-A, while Agent Jacques sprints over to the horse to restrain it and administer an antidote.] [SCP-8249-A attempts to struggle, but is too weak to meaningfully resist. Once he is handcuffed, Agent Lewis steps over to the sword and picks it up; she gasps and throws it a small distance away.] Agent Martin: You good? What happened? [Agent Lewis does not respond, staring at the sword. Agent King puts away his taser and steps over to pick the sword up.] Agent Lewis: Don’t touch it! [Agent King pulls his hands back. Agent Esther crouches down beside SCP-8249-A, rolling up one leg of his pants; the entire leg is covered in a large, swollen blood blister.] Agent Martin: Holy — Agent Lewis: Jacques, we need antivenom, now! [Agent King sprints over to Agent Jacques to swap places with him.] Agent Martin: Adam, talk to us, do you remember the snake? What colour — Agent Lewis: Sandy with brown patches along the back. Prairie rattlesnake. [Agent Martin glances at Agent Lewis.] Agent Martin: How would you know that? Agent Lewis: The sword gave me his memories, and everyone whose ever held it — he was bitten by a prairie rattlesnake yesterday afternoon. I remember it. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-A was immediately transported to Cypress Regional Hospital for emergency treatment and stabilisation before being relocated to Site-87. The horse was similarly collected and relocated once sedated. All civilian witnesses were informed SCP-8249-A was a fugitive wanted for non-violent crimes in the state of Minnesota. From: tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi#tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi To: tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb#tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb Subject: SCP-████ Look, this submarine has been sitting here in Site-87 for… I don’t even know how long, and that’s proof enough that it’s already been too long. We aren’t properly equipped to study it. It’s out of our purview. We’re preoccupied with all the storylines this town keeps concocting, and the longer this piece of junk is taking up space here, the more likely it is to turn into a MacGuffin, or a red herring, or one of half a dozen other tropes that will make our lives hell. Logistics can pick it up and take it to Site-██, I’m sure the guys over there will find something useful with it. It’s not staying here any longer. Page 2 of 3 >> |
SCP-8249 | esoteric-class | Legends abound of Adam of the Transient, the greatest hero of his era, defender of his kind. An ancient oath he has inherited, and in fulfilment of it, there has yet been no trial he couldn't overcome. Could this be the one he cannot? VIDEO LOG DATE: March 12, 2024 LOCATION: Site-87 (Nx-18 / Sloth’s Pit, Wisconsin) [BEGIN LOG] [Footage depicts a large containment room with SCP-████, a Holland-class submarine, in the centre. There are several Foundation researchers using equipment and terminals situated around the anomaly to study it.] [A faint light becomes visible through the west wall, shining through the opaque brickwork from a point beyond it; several researches notice this and highlight it to the others. The light slowly grows in intensity, and everyone present moves away from the wall.] [A figure in a crimson cloak stumbles backward out of the wall, tripping over a power cable and falling onto their back. Seconds later a white horse with rider emerges at full gallop, colliding with a desk and flinging the rider a moderate distance as the horse tumbles. Both jump back to their feet, the rider glancing about wildly before calming his horse and mounting it again.] [The researchers all abandon their tasks and run for the room’s sole exit, one triggering the room’s containment alarm as they go. The siren startles all three entities; cloaked figure rolls over and covers their ears, while the rider soothes the horse again and spurs it to follow the fleeing researchers.] [The robed figure briefly looks toward the west wall, then sprints toward the exit; the last of the researchers escape, and the room’s doors close and lock behind them. The figure searches for a way to open the doors, but finding none looks for a different escape route.] [The robed figure runs to a toppled desk nearby and hides behind it.] [The rider and their horse gallop down several hallways throughout Site-87, travelling as quickly as the latter is willing to go; security personnel have by now triggered the site-wide breach alarm. They follow the direction of any Foundation personnel they encounter — who are forced to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled — and otherwise blindly maintain their current direction, turning randomly whenever forced to. When clearly seen, the rider’s face is completely tattooed, and his expression is of fear and confusion.] [The horse turns a corner and encounters a small security team who raise their weapons. The rider forces the horse to stop and rear on its hind legs — nearly falling off as it does — so it can turn back around and flee.] [A short while after the pair find their way to the Site-87 main freight reception, where cargo trucks are being used to allow the loading bay doors to be closed; the last is shut shortly after they arrive, giving a brief glimpse of the site’s exterior beyond. The sparse few security personnel ready their weapons and signal for the rider to dismount and surrender.] [The rider tightens their grip on the reigns. He says something and performs a gesture, causing a string of tattoos along one arm to glow, then point at the recently-closed door; a ball of fire launches from his fingertips and violently explodes on impact, creating a large hole to the facility’s exterior. Nearby personnel are knocked to the ground or stunned by the blast. The horse panics, but the rider manages to stay mounted and calms the horse enough to spur it through the hole.] [The horse gallops up the basement ramp then along the adjoining fenced area, jumping over the boom gate and onto the main street of Sloth’s Pit. The rider briefly pauses to search the surroundings, particularly lingering on the nightlife of Sloth’s Pit, then steers his horse into the nearby forest, disappearing into the darkness between the trees.] [END LOG] Afterword: SCP designation of the incident and entities involved is pending. The robed entity was captured by security personnel several minutes later, apologising for intruding into ‘Triumvirate’s domain’ and offering an exchange of information for its freedom. Item #: SCP-8249 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8249-A is uncontained, and currently travelling approximately north-west along the Canada-United States border. SCP-8249-A must be captured by non-lethal means; extreme caution must be exercised as the entity is highly non-cooperative and possesses advanced thaumaturgic capabilities, however SCP-8249-A is not openly aggressive or hostile unless provoked. SCP-8249-C currently resides in a temporary humanoid containment chamber at Site-87, and is provided with standard humanoid meal rations. SCP-8249-C is compliant with Foundation personnel and inquiries, and will willingly exchange information with others; it is unclear to what extent the information they provide is embellished, however, and personnel must avoid divulging information to SCP-8249-C without approval from assigned supervisors. Description: SCP-8249 designates several entities and their possessions, which appeared in the temporary containment chamber of SCP-████ at Site-87 on March 12, 2024. Despite manifesting within and possessing characteristics typical of Nexus-18, the constituents of SCP-8249 are able to leave the Nexus without degredation of their properties. SCP-8249-A is a human male individual identified by SCP-8249-C as ‘Adam of the Transient.’ The individual’s skin is completely tattooed with monochromatic, unidentified glyphs, which enable SCP-8249-A to perform advanced thaumaturgic spells. SCP-8249-A possesses two swords, both reportedly anomalous, and a white mare with abnormal stamina used for transportation. SCP-8249-C claims SCP-8249-A is a prolific hero-figure in their reality of origin, with recounted stories of their exploits extolling SCP-8249-A’s moral character and combat prowess, especially in sword fighting; it is unclear to what extent SCP-8249-C has embellished these stories for dramatic effect. SCP-8249-A has consistently avoided population centres, and only approaches solitary individuals for brief periods of time. SCP-8249-C is a humanoid entity reportedly referred to by SCP-8249-A as ‘Bard.’ The entity’s physical characteristics have continuously changed throughout containment, including height, weight, eye colour, scarring, and so on; although SCP-8249-C has always maintained the general appearance of a human, the entity has not elaborated whether this is a limitation in ability or simply personal preference. The robe worn by SCP-8249-C exhibits similar properties, and is the entity's prefered clothing. Addendum 2: Interview of SCP-8249-C Interviewed: SCP-8249-C Interviewer: Researcher Le Guin [BEGIN LOG] [SCP-8249-C is standing in the corner of an interview room, staring up at the surveillance camera. Researcher Le Guin enters the room, closing the door behind her; SCP-8249-C turns at the noise and points at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Good evening, Anomaly Dash-C. I am Wynne Le Guin. I would like to ask you some questions if I could. SCP-8249-C: What is it? [Researcher Le Guin sits down at the interview table.] Researcher Le Guin: That is a camera. Please, take a seat. SCP-8249-C: What does it do? Researcher Le Guin: It is a surveillance device. It records what it sees and allows my associates to watch us. Please, sit, so we can begin. [SCP-8249-C turns back and stares at the camera.] SCP-8249-C: A Triumvirate looking-glass. Fascinating. [SCP-8249-C reaches up to touch the camera, but are too short; they hop repeatedly but still fail to reach it.] Researcher Le Guin: Please leave it alone. If you sit — SCP-8249-C: Ask away, I don’t need to sit. [SCP-8249-C continues jumping for a short while, then stops and simply stares at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Very well. Your name, please? SCP-8249-C: Which? Researcher Le Guin: Which…? [SCP-8249-C turns to Le Guin, counting off using their fingers.] SCP-8249-C: Trinculo, Albertine, Samson, Eltevar, Wordmaker, Marie-anne, Goldervas, Malcheron, One-who-walks-beneath-well-woven-crimson-robes… as with those of Ebutapakht, I have many names for many purposes. If you want only one, be very specific. Researcher Le Guin: Your birth name, then. [SCP-8249-C shakes their head and turns back to the camera. Their eyes are now green.] SCP-8249-C: I had none when I was born, but through many years of toil I now possess at least three hundred. Researcher Le Guin: You have over three hundred different aliases? SCP-8249-C: That’s what I said, yes. A fine collection if I do say so myself, and all of them worth it. Researcher Le Guin: I… see. Do you have a preferred alias, then? One you use the most? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: That would be ‘Bard’, though it isn’t a preference, for I have none. But Adam always calls me Bard, and he speaks of me the most, though rarely in happy tones. Researcher Le Guin: May I call you Bard, then? SCP-8249-C: If you wish, though if you have other names to offer I will be happy to accept them. Probably. Not Svaldi, for reasons you should understand. What was it you called me before? Researcher Le Guin: Anomaly Dash-C. [A pause; SCP-8249-C bobbles their head in thought.] SCP-8249-C: No. Not that one. Researcher Le Guin: I will refer to you as Bard, then. To begin: how did you come to be here? [SCP-8249-C laughs, then turns to face Researcher Le Guin, raising their arms for dramatic effect.] SCP-8249-C: There I was, standing amongst the towering pillars in the hall of Old King Enbarr, a great and cavernous space the size of which you could scarce compare to any elsewhere; before me — at a fair distance, of course, but not too far — was a mighty clash of man against monster, the valiant Adam of the Transient embroiled against one of the fiercest forces among the unseen lord’s host. An archon, no less! What a battle it was! Many times Adam came close to death, but he deftly dodged — Researcher Le Guin: Please, Bard. If you could summarise — SCP-8249-C: Shh! He, Adam, darted behind the mighty columns of the place, escaping the frightful oblivion-flame which sought him, instead scouring the impeccable designs from all it touched, leaving only basest details behind; so too did he evade the ruinous blows of mighty limbs, which found purchase in many pillars and tore them asunder. Such destruction will scar that one-mighty hall forevermore — and the sound! The cries of archon, the roars of Adam, the smashing of stone against stone. All of it ringing out evermore, echoing through eternity as though that lone battle was one of millions, and none would ever reach their close. The spectacle of it was grand to behold! Researcher Le Guin: But how did you arrive here? SCP-8249-C: The battle turned, and sourly so. I will witness such feats from afar with ease and glee; but when harm comes my way, I am less courageous, and more eager to flee. I… I saw the turn and moved to run — and then in an instant, I found myself here, and Adam shortly thereafter. Researcher Le Guin: You don’t remember anything happening in-between? SCP-8249-C: One step was there, the next was here. I know nothing further, other than that it was not my design to intrude upon Triumvirate’s domain. Adam may know, perhaps. Researcher Le Guin: And Adam would be the one who came here with you? Riding the horse? [A pause. SCP-8249-C steps over to the interview table and sits down.] SCP-8249-C: You… did not recognise him? Researcher Le Guin: No. Should I? SCP-8249-C: Do you know who he is? Adam of the Transient? Researcher Le Guin: I do not, no. [A pause. SCP-8249-C looks around.] SCP-8249-C: Fascinating. Researcher Le Guin: Care to explain? [No response.] Researcher Le Guin: Bard? SCP-8249-C: I thought you were Triumvirate by the design of this place, but… do you even know anything of the Three Eternal Tyrants? [A pause; Researcher Le Guin doesn’t respond. SCP-8249-C nods, leaning back in their seat.] SCP-8249-C: A land so far beyond Tyrant’s reach, they are beyond all thought. How… how fascinating. But you are questioning me to learn, are you not? Researcher Le Guin: Will you cooperate? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: I am not called Bard without reason. It is a great honour to bring these tales to this land — of the endless warring between the ever-covetous Three Eternal Tyrants, of the heroes of the Transient kingdoms, even of the treacherous Svaldi Storm-in-the-Eye. But you want to know first of Adam of the Transient, do you not? I will gladly tell you of our yet-greatest hero, of his insurmountable might, his indominable will, his enduring, unwavering resolve. Researcher Le Guin: Thank you. If you could begin by — SCP-8249-C: But a bard must earn their keep. I expect food, drink, and shelter; I am similarly interested to learn of your lands as well. Each saga shall be met with your own. Researcher Le Guin: I will have to discuss with my superiors, but I believe we will be able to meet those terms. SCP-8249-C: I am not to be interrupted while speaking. I will tell my tale in full, then I may be asked for clarity on points. Researcher Le Guin: That is… workable, but an interview format would be most beneficial to learn facts — SCP-8249-C:Ah, I see. You are only interested in facts? Of names, times, and places, devoid of flair and soul, drained of the atmosphere and circumstances they took place within? That is what you want to hear from me? Researcher Le Guin: That would be preferred, yes. [SCP-8249-C crosses their arms.] SCP-8249-C: Tough shit. The emotion and vigour of events are as valuable as what you seek. You will hear both, or you will hear neither. Go, survey my conditions. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-C refused to communicate for the remainder of the interview. The entity’s terms were accepted. Addendum 3: Narrative Provided by SCP-8249-C regarding SCP-8249-A ‘Of the Origins of Adam of the Transient and the Inheritance of the Sword of Ages’ Where else should one begin with the legends of the great Adam of the Transient, than with the first? Yes! To understand that mighty hero’s drive toward his later magnificent triumphs, you must first know of how he gained the Sword of Ages, and became the man known as Adam. No other can claim greater rise than he, for the growing dawn of his epics was wrought from the passing of a great and deepest darkness, as the final hours of a night. His birthplace once was a great and mighty city, the crowning jewel of a prosperous Transient kingdom, but as all others it changed into ruin among the unending turmoil between the Three Eternal Tyrants. A crowning jewel, but not their own; each sought to claim it their own by divine right, or otherwise deny it the others. So Adam was born the company of farmers, not lords, and among the crumbling, scorched ruins of what once was, night-worthless in the eyes of his kind and in the eyes of the greater powers whose designs made it so. He grew as all his kin did, hearing his elders recount the glory of those bygone golden days as he tilled the earth and shovelled slop. He heard memories of traders ever-coming and ever-going, where now only taxmen come to collect each Tyrant’s tithe; he learned of the soaring beauty of the city, of grand, towering buildings and the mighty, indominable walls that protected them, now lying sundered among fields between beggars’ homes that leak beneath rain; he envisioned men, women, and children of might and opulence, celebrating bountiful boons in flowing robes of silk, purple, and gold, but saw in present only brethren in sackcloth toiling through mud, and often their only celebration was to sleep with satisfied bellies. Adam coveted those days — an age he had never seen nor truly known, except as seen through fading, idyllic memories and the promise of crumbling ruins before they were torn down, yielding room for the burdens of the lesser present. Time and toil tried to erode him too, but Adam held fast in his hope that those greater days could be reclaimed. Even until he came of age, and shouldered the worries it brought; even until a year and half after, when to the crumbling village came an aged man with an aged sword. No name did he give, but one proven false in time; he I had better call Saul, as elsewise he will be let nameless, for his true name is lost within time. He spoke of faraway lands unimagined by the farmers, too focused on scavenging endless tithes to dwell upon useless ideas such as ‘elsewhere.’ He brought news of the Tyrants’ unending bickering — of borders moved, dominions expanded, lands ravaged, salted, scorched, ruined. The domains of the Transients were leaderless and dwindling; Adam’s kin turned their thoughts to which Tyrants they would last longest beneath, which to swear hopeless fealty to. Adam alone asked what could yet be done, how their home might be saved, how those of transient lives, power, and focus might be spared a Tyrant’s rule. He was not mocked, for though unspoken the others around him wondered how it could be done — but not if, as the thought had long ago been relegated to fanciful impossibility, banished by the evidence around them that it had once been but would not endure. They harboured no hope for greater days, even as Saul said it could be done, if one would but take up the mantle; so Adam did, when no-one else would. From summer’s dawn to winter’s peak the wizened man stayed in their company, each entrusted into care of the other. Saul had been a swordsman of renown in his own time, he said; he taught Adam to the greatest extent he could, and Adam in turn shirked many of his responsibilities to devote greater time to the training. By autumn he kept only what was needed to feed himself and his teacher, the rest given to others who benefitted well from his springtime sowing; once harvest passed Adam devoted nigh on every waking moment to his training, though Saul’s health was dwindling, and the extent to which he taught shortened with every passing day. By winter’s rise all he could do was speak from what would be his deathbed, and shortly thereafter his words changed from education to self-reflection. The prime of Saul’s exploits had coincided with the faded Transient golden age, for the former had wrought the latter; the Three Eternal Tyrants can never be bested except by each-other — and dare I say, if even that — and none of them are tolerant of Transients forever. But their eternal conflict could be controlled, maintained at a balanced, perpetual deadlock, leaving the Transient kingdoms untouched within the eye of the storm. This had been Saul’s aspiration, as it had been his predecessors, and so too would it be Adam’s; for a perpetual deadlock demands perpetual maintenance, and the duty need be passed once those pursuing it are weakened and slowed by age, else the storm’s eye would close forevermore upon the Transients thriving within. Saul had succeeded for many a decade, but his works were undone early, brought to ruin by the treachery of the once-great Skadi Storm-in-the-Eye — but that is another tale. Saul was found passed on the dawn of winter’s solstice, his life and body well full of years and the wearies they bring. He was buried among the heart of the ruins; the crowning jewel of a kingdom which flourished with his protection, and crumbled once without. None knew much of him but Adam, and he found few words in mind, fewer still he could bear to speak. Adam’s mourning did not soften until the winter did in kind. When the last snow fell and the first birds sung again, his mind turned toward fulfilling the duty he had been entrusted. He took up his tutor’s blade, the ancient Sword of Ages; a legendary blade passed down for untold aeons through innumerable revered heroes, the emblem and reminder of their unending duty to distract the Three Tyrants — a sword often spoken of in Transient epics, the persistent thorn which defied all greater powers, but scarcely recognised through its mundane, unassuming appearance. Many times it had been forgotten or lost; always it returned, and new wielder would carve the Transients’ golden age anew. Adam’s final farewell came when the roads to elsewhere were clear once more. His kindred found him both familiar and unknown, the man who grew among them and someone new, someone greater than had been seen in many an age. Those who had lived during the greater days found his stature bringing memories of that time to mind, and they bid him good parting, their hearts housing a newfound glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, those greater days could be again. He departed alone with only his sword and name to him. He was not yet certain where he was going, but he found his way in time. Ever since, the tales of Adam of the Transient have grown and grown — tales of trials, tales of triumph. Stories of might, and stories of hope. Note/s: Story exchanged for the history of the Sea Peoples, as known by consensus society. SCP-8249-C was predominantly uninterested in the records, excluding recounts of known battles and speculation on the Sea People’s origins; SCP-8249-C accepted the exchange, but clarified they would only accept prose narratives in future. The Brothers Grimm rendition of Little Red Riding Hood was offered to and accepted by SCP-8249-C to appease it. Addendum 4: SCP-8249-A Capture On July 26, 2024, a civilian in the region of Swift Current, Saskatchewan reported to emergency services that an individual matching SCP-8249-A’s description was in urgent need of medical help; a Foundation task force was dispatched under the guise of paramedics, however SCP-8249-A fled the scene before they could arrive. Two hours later a second, similar call was received, and the task force was dispatched again. [BEGIN LOG] [Four agents are in an ambulance, driving down a gravel road at speed; Agents John Martin and Ben Jacques are in the front wearing paramedic uniforms, while Agents Roland King and Esther Lewis are in the patient compartment, wearing Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniforms. Agent Martin turns the vehicle onto a driveway leading toward a homestead, where a man is waving both arms for attention.] Agent Martin: Look, the horse — he’s still here. [Agent Martin points at SCP-8249-A’s horse, grazing near the front of the house; it looks up at the approaching vehicle and panics, bucking about. The civilian attempts to calm it.] Agent Martin: Get ready back there, he’s probably going to run again! [All four agents pre-emptively remove their seatbelts; Agent Jacques mumbles and makes the sign of the cross, while Agent King prepares a tranquiliser rifle. The horse becomes increasingly erratic the closer the vehicle gets to the house. SCP-8249-A is briefly seen through a downstairs window.] Agent Martin: We’re made, go! Go! [The vehicle skids to a halt and all four agents jump out in unison, non-lethal weapons drawn; the civilian raises their hands. A shrill whistle is heard from the house, and the horse sets off toward the rear; Agent King hits its flank with a tranquiliser dart. Agent Lewis pursues the horse; Agent Roland navigates to the other side of the building; Agents Martin and Jacques enter through the front door, seeing SCP-8249-A flee through the back.] Agent Martin: Stop! [Agents Martin and Jacques pursue; there is a loud crash as SCP-8249-A topples a freestanding shelf to block the door, forcing them to turn back. Agent Lewis reaches the back of the house as SCP-8249-A attempts to mount the horse with a running vault as it passes, but a significant limp prevents him from completing the manoeuvre and he falls off after a short distance, screaming in pain as he tumbles. Agent Lewis rushes in to restrain him as Agent King appears at the opposite end of the building, the horse galloping past and beginning a wide turn.] [SCP-8249-A tries to climb back to his feet, but Agent Lewis pushes him back down, eliciting a shout of pain and another whistle. The two struggle briefly, however SCP-8249-A is visibly sluggish and his breathing is loud and heavy.] Agent Lewis: Stop resisting! Adam, we’re trying — Agent King: Esther, move! [Agent King pulls Agent Lewis away as the horse charges over, rearing on its hind legs to attack and forcing the pair back. Agents Martin and Jacques arrive, and the four agents spread out to encircle SCP-8249-A, but are kept at bay by the horse.] Agent Lewis: Roland, did you get it? Agent King: I got it, just give it a minute or two! [SCP-8249-A slowly gets to his feet, putting all his weight on one leg, then attempts to mount his horse again; he is again unsuccessful, partially dislodging the saddle, and is unable to try again as the horse becomes unsteady, stumbling away before collapsing onto the ground. SCP-8249-A draws a sword, constantly turning and looking about, tracking the four agents positioned around him. His stance is unsteady.] Agent Jacques: Adam, I need to help the horse, and I need to help you. Just calm down, and let’s talk. [SCP-8249-A steadies his grip. Agent King subtly draws his taser and nods to Agent Martin, who is positioned on the opposite side of SCP-8249-A.] Agent Martin: Hey! [SCP-8249-A turns to Agent Martin; Agent King fires his taser into SCP-8249-A’s back. He seizes and drops his sword, then falls face-first into the ground; Agents Martin and Lewis rush in to restrain SCP-8249-A, while Agent Jacques sprints over to the horse to restrain it and administer an antidote.] [SCP-8249-A attempts to struggle, but is too weak to meaningfully resist. Once he is handcuffed, Agent Lewis steps over to the sword and picks it up; she gasps and throws it a small distance away.] Agent Martin: You good? What happened? [Agent Lewis does not respond, staring at the sword. Agent King puts away his taser and steps over to pick the sword up.] Agent Lewis: Don’t touch it! [Agent King pulls his hands back. Agent Esther crouches down beside SCP-8249-A, rolling up one leg of his pants; the entire leg is covered in a large, swollen blood blister.] Agent Martin: Holy — Agent Lewis: Jacques, we need antivenom, now! [Agent King sprints over to Agent Jacques to swap places with him.] Agent Martin: Adam, talk to us, do you remember the snake? What colour — Agent Lewis: Sandy with brown patches along the back. Prairie rattlesnake. [Agent Martin glances at Agent Lewis.] Agent Martin: How would you know that? Agent Lewis: The sword gave me his memories, and everyone whose ever held it — he was bitten by a prairie rattlesnake yesterday afternoon. I remember it. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-A was immediately transported to Cypress Regional Hospital for emergency treatment and stabilisation before being relocated to Site-87. The horse was similarly collected and relocated once sedated. All civilian witnesses were informed SCP-8249-A was a fugitive wanted for non-violent crimes in the state of Minnesota. From: tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi#tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi To: tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb#tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb Subject: SCP-████ Look, this submarine has been sitting here in Site-87 for… I don’t even know how long, and that’s proof enough that it’s already been too long. We aren’t properly equipped to study it. It’s out of our purview. We’re preoccupied with all the storylines this town keeps concocting, and the longer this piece of junk is taking up space here, the more likely it is to turn into a MacGuffin, or a red herring, or one of half a dozen other tropes that will make our lives hell. Logistics can pick it up and take it to Site-██, I’m sure the guys over there will find something useful with it. It’s not staying here any longer. Page 2 of 3 >> |
SCP-8249 | euclid | Legends abound of Adam of the Transient, the greatest hero of his era, defender of his kind. An ancient oath he has inherited, and in fulfilment of it, there has yet been no trial he couldn't overcome. Could this be the one he cannot? VIDEO LOG DATE: March 12, 2024 LOCATION: Site-87 (Nx-18 / Sloth’s Pit, Wisconsin) [BEGIN LOG] [Footage depicts a large containment room with SCP-████, a Holland-class submarine, in the centre. There are several Foundation researchers using equipment and terminals situated around the anomaly to study it.] [A faint light becomes visible through the west wall, shining through the opaque brickwork from a point beyond it; several researches notice this and highlight it to the others. The light slowly grows in intensity, and everyone present moves away from the wall.] [A figure in a crimson cloak stumbles backward out of the wall, tripping over a power cable and falling onto their back. Seconds later a white horse with rider emerges at full gallop, colliding with a desk and flinging the rider a moderate distance as the horse tumbles. Both jump back to their feet, the rider glancing about wildly before calming his horse and mounting it again.] [The researchers all abandon their tasks and run for the room’s sole exit, one triggering the room’s containment alarm as they go. The siren startles all three entities; cloaked figure rolls over and covers their ears, while the rider soothes the horse again and spurs it to follow the fleeing researchers.] [The robed figure briefly looks toward the west wall, then sprints toward the exit; the last of the researchers escape, and the room’s doors close and lock behind them. The figure searches for a way to open the doors, but finding none looks for a different escape route.] [The robed figure runs to a toppled desk nearby and hides behind it.] [The rider and their horse gallop down several hallways throughout Site-87, travelling as quickly as the latter is willing to go; security personnel have by now triggered the site-wide breach alarm. They follow the direction of any Foundation personnel they encounter — who are forced to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled — and otherwise blindly maintain their current direction, turning randomly whenever forced to. When clearly seen, the rider’s face is completely tattooed, and his expression is of fear and confusion.] [The horse turns a corner and encounters a small security team who raise their weapons. The rider forces the horse to stop and rear on its hind legs — nearly falling off as it does — so it can turn back around and flee.] [A short while after the pair find their way to the Site-87 main freight reception, where cargo trucks are being used to allow the loading bay doors to be closed; the last is shut shortly after they arrive, giving a brief glimpse of the site’s exterior beyond. The sparse few security personnel ready their weapons and signal for the rider to dismount and surrender.] [The rider tightens their grip on the reigns. He says something and performs a gesture, causing a string of tattoos along one arm to glow, then point at the recently-closed door; a ball of fire launches from his fingertips and violently explodes on impact, creating a large hole to the facility’s exterior. Nearby personnel are knocked to the ground or stunned by the blast. The horse panics, but the rider manages to stay mounted and calms the horse enough to spur it through the hole.] [The horse gallops up the basement ramp then along the adjoining fenced area, jumping over the boom gate and onto the main street of Sloth’s Pit. The rider briefly pauses to search the surroundings, particularly lingering on the nightlife of Sloth’s Pit, then steers his horse into the nearby forest, disappearing into the darkness between the trees.] [END LOG] Afterword: SCP designation of the incident and entities involved is pending. The robed entity was captured by security personnel several minutes later, apologising for intruding into ‘Triumvirate’s domain’ and offering an exchange of information for its freedom. Item #: SCP-8249 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8249-A is uncontained, and currently travelling approximately north-west along the Canada-United States border. SCP-8249-A must be captured by non-lethal means; extreme caution must be exercised as the entity is highly non-cooperative and possesses advanced thaumaturgic capabilities, however SCP-8249-A is not openly aggressive or hostile unless provoked. SCP-8249-C currently resides in a temporary humanoid containment chamber at Site-87, and is provided with standard humanoid meal rations. SCP-8249-C is compliant with Foundation personnel and inquiries, and will willingly exchange information with others; it is unclear to what extent the information they provide is embellished, however, and personnel must avoid divulging information to SCP-8249-C without approval from assigned supervisors. Description: SCP-8249 designates several entities and their possessions, which appeared in the temporary containment chamber of SCP-████ at Site-87 on March 12, 2024. Despite manifesting within and possessing characteristics typical of Nexus-18, the constituents of SCP-8249 are able to leave the Nexus without degredation of their properties. SCP-8249-A is a human male individual identified by SCP-8249-C as ‘Adam of the Transient.’ The individual’s skin is completely tattooed with monochromatic, unidentified glyphs, which enable SCP-8249-A to perform advanced thaumaturgic spells. SCP-8249-A possesses two swords, both reportedly anomalous, and a white mare with abnormal stamina used for transportation. SCP-8249-C claims SCP-8249-A is a prolific hero-figure in their reality of origin, with recounted stories of their exploits extolling SCP-8249-A’s moral character and combat prowess, especially in sword fighting; it is unclear to what extent SCP-8249-C has embellished these stories for dramatic effect. SCP-8249-A has consistently avoided population centres, and only approaches solitary individuals for brief periods of time. SCP-8249-C is a humanoid entity reportedly referred to by SCP-8249-A as ‘Bard.’ The entity’s physical characteristics have continuously changed throughout containment, including height, weight, eye colour, scarring, and so on; although SCP-8249-C has always maintained the general appearance of a human, the entity has not elaborated whether this is a limitation in ability or simply personal preference. The robe worn by SCP-8249-C exhibits similar properties, and is the entity's prefered clothing. Addendum 2: Interview of SCP-8249-C Interviewed: SCP-8249-C Interviewer: Researcher Le Guin [BEGIN LOG] [SCP-8249-C is standing in the corner of an interview room, staring up at the surveillance camera. Researcher Le Guin enters the room, closing the door behind her; SCP-8249-C turns at the noise and points at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Good evening, Anomaly Dash-C. I am Wynne Le Guin. I would like to ask you some questions if I could. SCP-8249-C: What is it? [Researcher Le Guin sits down at the interview table.] Researcher Le Guin: That is a camera. Please, take a seat. SCP-8249-C: What does it do? Researcher Le Guin: It is a surveillance device. It records what it sees and allows my associates to watch us. Please, sit, so we can begin. [SCP-8249-C turns back and stares at the camera.] SCP-8249-C: A Triumvirate looking-glass. Fascinating. [SCP-8249-C reaches up to touch the camera, but are too short; they hop repeatedly but still fail to reach it.] Researcher Le Guin: Please leave it alone. If you sit — SCP-8249-C: Ask away, I don’t need to sit. [SCP-8249-C continues jumping for a short while, then stops and simply stares at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Very well. Your name, please? SCP-8249-C: Which? Researcher Le Guin: Which…? [SCP-8249-C turns to Le Guin, counting off using their fingers.] SCP-8249-C: Trinculo, Albertine, Samson, Eltevar, Wordmaker, Marie-anne, Goldervas, Malcheron, One-who-walks-beneath-well-woven-crimson-robes… as with those of Ebutapakht, I have many names for many purposes. If you want only one, be very specific. Researcher Le Guin: Your birth name, then. [SCP-8249-C shakes their head and turns back to the camera. Their eyes are now green.] SCP-8249-C: I had none when I was born, but through many years of toil I now possess at least three hundred. Researcher Le Guin: You have over three hundred different aliases? SCP-8249-C: That’s what I said, yes. A fine collection if I do say so myself, and all of them worth it. Researcher Le Guin: I… see. Do you have a preferred alias, then? One you use the most? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: That would be ‘Bard’, though it isn’t a preference, for I have none. But Adam always calls me Bard, and he speaks of me the most, though rarely in happy tones. Researcher Le Guin: May I call you Bard, then? SCP-8249-C: If you wish, though if you have other names to offer I will be happy to accept them. Probably. Not Svaldi, for reasons you should understand. What was it you called me before? Researcher Le Guin: Anomaly Dash-C. [A pause; SCP-8249-C bobbles their head in thought.] SCP-8249-C: No. Not that one. Researcher Le Guin: I will refer to you as Bard, then. To begin: how did you come to be here? [SCP-8249-C laughs, then turns to face Researcher Le Guin, raising their arms for dramatic effect.] SCP-8249-C: There I was, standing amongst the towering pillars in the hall of Old King Enbarr, a great and cavernous space the size of which you could scarce compare to any elsewhere; before me — at a fair distance, of course, but not too far — was a mighty clash of man against monster, the valiant Adam of the Transient embroiled against one of the fiercest forces among the unseen lord’s host. An archon, no less! What a battle it was! Many times Adam came close to death, but he deftly dodged — Researcher Le Guin: Please, Bard. If you could summarise — SCP-8249-C: Shh! He, Adam, darted behind the mighty columns of the place, escaping the frightful oblivion-flame which sought him, instead scouring the impeccable designs from all it touched, leaving only basest details behind; so too did he evade the ruinous blows of mighty limbs, which found purchase in many pillars and tore them asunder. Such destruction will scar that one-mighty hall forevermore — and the sound! The cries of archon, the roars of Adam, the smashing of stone against stone. All of it ringing out evermore, echoing through eternity as though that lone battle was one of millions, and none would ever reach their close. The spectacle of it was grand to behold! Researcher Le Guin: But how did you arrive here? SCP-8249-C: The battle turned, and sourly so. I will witness such feats from afar with ease and glee; but when harm comes my way, I am less courageous, and more eager to flee. I… I saw the turn and moved to run — and then in an instant, I found myself here, and Adam shortly thereafter. Researcher Le Guin: You don’t remember anything happening in-between? SCP-8249-C: One step was there, the next was here. I know nothing further, other than that it was not my design to intrude upon Triumvirate’s domain. Adam may know, perhaps. Researcher Le Guin: And Adam would be the one who came here with you? Riding the horse? [A pause. SCP-8249-C steps over to the interview table and sits down.] SCP-8249-C: You… did not recognise him? Researcher Le Guin: No. Should I? SCP-8249-C: Do you know who he is? Adam of the Transient? Researcher Le Guin: I do not, no. [A pause. SCP-8249-C looks around.] SCP-8249-C: Fascinating. Researcher Le Guin: Care to explain? [No response.] Researcher Le Guin: Bard? SCP-8249-C: I thought you were Triumvirate by the design of this place, but… do you even know anything of the Three Eternal Tyrants? [A pause; Researcher Le Guin doesn’t respond. SCP-8249-C nods, leaning back in their seat.] SCP-8249-C: A land so far beyond Tyrant’s reach, they are beyond all thought. How… how fascinating. But you are questioning me to learn, are you not? Researcher Le Guin: Will you cooperate? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: I am not called Bard without reason. It is a great honour to bring these tales to this land — of the endless warring between the ever-covetous Three Eternal Tyrants, of the heroes of the Transient kingdoms, even of the treacherous Svaldi Storm-in-the-Eye. But you want to know first of Adam of the Transient, do you not? I will gladly tell you of our yet-greatest hero, of his insurmountable might, his indominable will, his enduring, unwavering resolve. Researcher Le Guin: Thank you. If you could begin by — SCP-8249-C: But a bard must earn their keep. I expect food, drink, and shelter; I am similarly interested to learn of your lands as well. Each saga shall be met with your own. Researcher Le Guin: I will have to discuss with my superiors, but I believe we will be able to meet those terms. SCP-8249-C: I am not to be interrupted while speaking. I will tell my tale in full, then I may be asked for clarity on points. Researcher Le Guin: That is… workable, but an interview format would be most beneficial to learn facts — SCP-8249-C:Ah, I see. You are only interested in facts? Of names, times, and places, devoid of flair and soul, drained of the atmosphere and circumstances they took place within? That is what you want to hear from me? Researcher Le Guin: That would be preferred, yes. [SCP-8249-C crosses their arms.] SCP-8249-C: Tough shit. The emotion and vigour of events are as valuable as what you seek. You will hear both, or you will hear neither. Go, survey my conditions. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-C refused to communicate for the remainder of the interview. The entity’s terms were accepted. Addendum 3: Narrative Provided by SCP-8249-C regarding SCP-8249-A ‘Of the Origins of Adam of the Transient and the Inheritance of the Sword of Ages’ Where else should one begin with the legends of the great Adam of the Transient, than with the first? Yes! To understand that mighty hero’s drive toward his later magnificent triumphs, you must first know of how he gained the Sword of Ages, and became the man known as Adam. No other can claim greater rise than he, for the growing dawn of his epics was wrought from the passing of a great and deepest darkness, as the final hours of a night. His birthplace once was a great and mighty city, the crowning jewel of a prosperous Transient kingdom, but as all others it changed into ruin among the unending turmoil between the Three Eternal Tyrants. A crowning jewel, but not their own; each sought to claim it their own by divine right, or otherwise deny it the others. So Adam was born the company of farmers, not lords, and among the crumbling, scorched ruins of what once was, night-worthless in the eyes of his kind and in the eyes of the greater powers whose designs made it so. He grew as all his kin did, hearing his elders recount the glory of those bygone golden days as he tilled the earth and shovelled slop. He heard memories of traders ever-coming and ever-going, where now only taxmen come to collect each Tyrant’s tithe; he learned of the soaring beauty of the city, of grand, towering buildings and the mighty, indominable walls that protected them, now lying sundered among fields between beggars’ homes that leak beneath rain; he envisioned men, women, and children of might and opulence, celebrating bountiful boons in flowing robes of silk, purple, and gold, but saw in present only brethren in sackcloth toiling through mud, and often their only celebration was to sleep with satisfied bellies. Adam coveted those days — an age he had never seen nor truly known, except as seen through fading, idyllic memories and the promise of crumbling ruins before they were torn down, yielding room for the burdens of the lesser present. Time and toil tried to erode him too, but Adam held fast in his hope that those greater days could be reclaimed. Even until he came of age, and shouldered the worries it brought; even until a year and half after, when to the crumbling village came an aged man with an aged sword. No name did he give, but one proven false in time; he I had better call Saul, as elsewise he will be let nameless, for his true name is lost within time. He spoke of faraway lands unimagined by the farmers, too focused on scavenging endless tithes to dwell upon useless ideas such as ‘elsewhere.’ He brought news of the Tyrants’ unending bickering — of borders moved, dominions expanded, lands ravaged, salted, scorched, ruined. The domains of the Transients were leaderless and dwindling; Adam’s kin turned their thoughts to which Tyrants they would last longest beneath, which to swear hopeless fealty to. Adam alone asked what could yet be done, how their home might be saved, how those of transient lives, power, and focus might be spared a Tyrant’s rule. He was not mocked, for though unspoken the others around him wondered how it could be done — but not if, as the thought had long ago been relegated to fanciful impossibility, banished by the evidence around them that it had once been but would not endure. They harboured no hope for greater days, even as Saul said it could be done, if one would but take up the mantle; so Adam did, when no-one else would. From summer’s dawn to winter’s peak the wizened man stayed in their company, each entrusted into care of the other. Saul had been a swordsman of renown in his own time, he said; he taught Adam to the greatest extent he could, and Adam in turn shirked many of his responsibilities to devote greater time to the training. By autumn he kept only what was needed to feed himself and his teacher, the rest given to others who benefitted well from his springtime sowing; once harvest passed Adam devoted nigh on every waking moment to his training, though Saul’s health was dwindling, and the extent to which he taught shortened with every passing day. By winter’s rise all he could do was speak from what would be his deathbed, and shortly thereafter his words changed from education to self-reflection. The prime of Saul’s exploits had coincided with the faded Transient golden age, for the former had wrought the latter; the Three Eternal Tyrants can never be bested except by each-other — and dare I say, if even that — and none of them are tolerant of Transients forever. But their eternal conflict could be controlled, maintained at a balanced, perpetual deadlock, leaving the Transient kingdoms untouched within the eye of the storm. This had been Saul’s aspiration, as it had been his predecessors, and so too would it be Adam’s; for a perpetual deadlock demands perpetual maintenance, and the duty need be passed once those pursuing it are weakened and slowed by age, else the storm’s eye would close forevermore upon the Transients thriving within. Saul had succeeded for many a decade, but his works were undone early, brought to ruin by the treachery of the once-great Skadi Storm-in-the-Eye — but that is another tale. Saul was found passed on the dawn of winter’s solstice, his life and body well full of years and the wearies they bring. He was buried among the heart of the ruins; the crowning jewel of a kingdom which flourished with his protection, and crumbled once without. None knew much of him but Adam, and he found few words in mind, fewer still he could bear to speak. Adam’s mourning did not soften until the winter did in kind. When the last snow fell and the first birds sung again, his mind turned toward fulfilling the duty he had been entrusted. He took up his tutor’s blade, the ancient Sword of Ages; a legendary blade passed down for untold aeons through innumerable revered heroes, the emblem and reminder of their unending duty to distract the Three Tyrants — a sword often spoken of in Transient epics, the persistent thorn which defied all greater powers, but scarcely recognised through its mundane, unassuming appearance. Many times it had been forgotten or lost; always it returned, and new wielder would carve the Transients’ golden age anew. Adam’s final farewell came when the roads to elsewhere were clear once more. His kindred found him both familiar and unknown, the man who grew among them and someone new, someone greater than had been seen in many an age. Those who had lived during the greater days found his stature bringing memories of that time to mind, and they bid him good parting, their hearts housing a newfound glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, those greater days could be again. He departed alone with only his sword and name to him. He was not yet certain where he was going, but he found his way in time. Ever since, the tales of Adam of the Transient have grown and grown — tales of trials, tales of triumph. Stories of might, and stories of hope. Note/s: Story exchanged for the history of the Sea Peoples, as known by consensus society. SCP-8249-C was predominantly uninterested in the records, excluding recounts of known battles and speculation on the Sea People’s origins; SCP-8249-C accepted the exchange, but clarified they would only accept prose narratives in future. The Brothers Grimm rendition of Little Red Riding Hood was offered to and accepted by SCP-8249-C to appease it. Addendum 4: SCP-8249-A Capture On July 26, 2024, a civilian in the region of Swift Current, Saskatchewan reported to emergency services that an individual matching SCP-8249-A’s description was in urgent need of medical help; a Foundation task force was dispatched under the guise of paramedics, however SCP-8249-A fled the scene before they could arrive. Two hours later a second, similar call was received, and the task force was dispatched again. [BEGIN LOG] [Four agents are in an ambulance, driving down a gravel road at speed; Agents John Martin and Ben Jacques are in the front wearing paramedic uniforms, while Agents Roland King and Esther Lewis are in the patient compartment, wearing Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniforms. Agent Martin turns the vehicle onto a driveway leading toward a homestead, where a man is waving both arms for attention.] Agent Martin: Look, the horse — he’s still here. [Agent Martin points at SCP-8249-A’s horse, grazing near the front of the house; it looks up at the approaching vehicle and panics, bucking about. The civilian attempts to calm it.] Agent Martin: Get ready back there, he’s probably going to run again! [All four agents pre-emptively remove their seatbelts; Agent Jacques mumbles and makes the sign of the cross, while Agent King prepares a tranquiliser rifle. The horse becomes increasingly erratic the closer the vehicle gets to the house. SCP-8249-A is briefly seen through a downstairs window.] Agent Martin: We’re made, go! Go! [The vehicle skids to a halt and all four agents jump out in unison, non-lethal weapons drawn; the civilian raises their hands. A shrill whistle is heard from the house, and the horse sets off toward the rear; Agent King hits its flank with a tranquiliser dart. Agent Lewis pursues the horse; Agent Roland navigates to the other side of the building; Agents Martin and Jacques enter through the front door, seeing SCP-8249-A flee through the back.] Agent Martin: Stop! [Agents Martin and Jacques pursue; there is a loud crash as SCP-8249-A topples a freestanding shelf to block the door, forcing them to turn back. Agent Lewis reaches the back of the house as SCP-8249-A attempts to mount the horse with a running vault as it passes, but a significant limp prevents him from completing the manoeuvre and he falls off after a short distance, screaming in pain as he tumbles. Agent Lewis rushes in to restrain him as Agent King appears at the opposite end of the building, the horse galloping past and beginning a wide turn.] [SCP-8249-A tries to climb back to his feet, but Agent Lewis pushes him back down, eliciting a shout of pain and another whistle. The two struggle briefly, however SCP-8249-A is visibly sluggish and his breathing is loud and heavy.] Agent Lewis: Stop resisting! Adam, we’re trying — Agent King: Esther, move! [Agent King pulls Agent Lewis away as the horse charges over, rearing on its hind legs to attack and forcing the pair back. Agents Martin and Jacques arrive, and the four agents spread out to encircle SCP-8249-A, but are kept at bay by the horse.] Agent Lewis: Roland, did you get it? Agent King: I got it, just give it a minute or two! [SCP-8249-A slowly gets to his feet, putting all his weight on one leg, then attempts to mount his horse again; he is again unsuccessful, partially dislodging the saddle, and is unable to try again as the horse becomes unsteady, stumbling away before collapsing onto the ground. SCP-8249-A draws a sword, constantly turning and looking about, tracking the four agents positioned around him. His stance is unsteady.] Agent Jacques: Adam, I need to help the horse, and I need to help you. Just calm down, and let’s talk. [SCP-8249-A steadies his grip. Agent King subtly draws his taser and nods to Agent Martin, who is positioned on the opposite side of SCP-8249-A.] Agent Martin: Hey! [SCP-8249-A turns to Agent Martin; Agent King fires his taser into SCP-8249-A’s back. He seizes and drops his sword, then falls face-first into the ground; Agents Martin and Lewis rush in to restrain SCP-8249-A, while Agent Jacques sprints over to the horse to restrain it and administer an antidote.] [SCP-8249-A attempts to struggle, but is too weak to meaningfully resist. Once he is handcuffed, Agent Lewis steps over to the sword and picks it up; she gasps and throws it a small distance away.] Agent Martin: You good? What happened? [Agent Lewis does not respond, staring at the sword. Agent King puts away his taser and steps over to pick the sword up.] Agent Lewis: Don’t touch it! [Agent King pulls his hands back. Agent Esther crouches down beside SCP-8249-A, rolling up one leg of his pants; the entire leg is covered in a large, swollen blood blister.] Agent Martin: Holy — Agent Lewis: Jacques, we need antivenom, now! [Agent King sprints over to Agent Jacques to swap places with him.] Agent Martin: Adam, talk to us, do you remember the snake? What colour — Agent Lewis: Sandy with brown patches along the back. Prairie rattlesnake. [Agent Martin glances at Agent Lewis.] Agent Martin: How would you know that? Agent Lewis: The sword gave me his memories, and everyone whose ever held it — he was bitten by a prairie rattlesnake yesterday afternoon. I remember it. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-A was immediately transported to Cypress Regional Hospital for emergency treatment and stabilisation before being relocated to Site-87. The horse was similarly collected and relocated once sedated. All civilian witnesses were informed SCP-8249-A was a fugitive wanted for non-violent crimes in the state of Minnesota. From: tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi#tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi To: tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb#tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb Subject: SCP-████ Look, this submarine has been sitting here in Site-87 for… I don’t even know how long, and that’s proof enough that it’s already been too long. We aren’t properly equipped to study it. It’s out of our purview. We’re preoccupied with all the storylines this town keeps concocting, and the longer this piece of junk is taking up space here, the more likely it is to turn into a MacGuffin, or a red herring, or one of half a dozen other tropes that will make our lives hell. Logistics can pick it up and take it to Site-██, I’m sure the guys over there will find something useful with it. It’s not staying here any longer. Page 2 of 3 >> |
SCP-8249 | uncontained | Legends abound of Adam of the Transient, the greatest hero of his era, defender of his kind. An ancient oath he has inherited, and in fulfilment of it, there has yet been no trial he couldn't overcome. Could this be the one he cannot? VIDEO LOG DATE: March 12, 2024 LOCATION: Site-87 (Nx-18 / Sloth’s Pit, Wisconsin) [BEGIN LOG] [Footage depicts a large containment room with SCP-████, a Holland-class submarine, in the centre. There are several Foundation researchers using equipment and terminals situated around the anomaly to study it.] [A faint light becomes visible through the west wall, shining through the opaque brickwork from a point beyond it; several researches notice this and highlight it to the others. The light slowly grows in intensity, and everyone present moves away from the wall.] [A figure in a crimson cloak stumbles backward out of the wall, tripping over a power cable and falling onto their back. Seconds later a white horse with rider emerges at full gallop, colliding with a desk and flinging the rider a moderate distance as the horse tumbles. Both jump back to their feet, the rider glancing about wildly before calming his horse and mounting it again.] [The researchers all abandon their tasks and run for the room’s sole exit, one triggering the room’s containment alarm as they go. The siren startles all three entities; cloaked figure rolls over and covers their ears, while the rider soothes the horse again and spurs it to follow the fleeing researchers.] [The robed figure briefly looks toward the west wall, then sprints toward the exit; the last of the researchers escape, and the room’s doors close and lock behind them. The figure searches for a way to open the doors, but finding none looks for a different escape route.] [The robed figure runs to a toppled desk nearby and hides behind it.] [The rider and their horse gallop down several hallways throughout Site-87, travelling as quickly as the latter is willing to go; security personnel have by now triggered the site-wide breach alarm. They follow the direction of any Foundation personnel they encounter — who are forced to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled — and otherwise blindly maintain their current direction, turning randomly whenever forced to. When clearly seen, the rider’s face is completely tattooed, and his expression is of fear and confusion.] [The horse turns a corner and encounters a small security team who raise their weapons. The rider forces the horse to stop and rear on its hind legs — nearly falling off as it does — so it can turn back around and flee.] [A short while after the pair find their way to the Site-87 main freight reception, where cargo trucks are being used to allow the loading bay doors to be closed; the last is shut shortly after they arrive, giving a brief glimpse of the site’s exterior beyond. The sparse few security personnel ready their weapons and signal for the rider to dismount and surrender.] [The rider tightens their grip on the reigns. He says something and performs a gesture, causing a string of tattoos along one arm to glow, then point at the recently-closed door; a ball of fire launches from his fingertips and violently explodes on impact, creating a large hole to the facility’s exterior. Nearby personnel are knocked to the ground or stunned by the blast. The horse panics, but the rider manages to stay mounted and calms the horse enough to spur it through the hole.] [The horse gallops up the basement ramp then along the adjoining fenced area, jumping over the boom gate and onto the main street of Sloth’s Pit. The rider briefly pauses to search the surroundings, particularly lingering on the nightlife of Sloth’s Pit, then steers his horse into the nearby forest, disappearing into the darkness between the trees.] [END LOG] Afterword: SCP designation of the incident and entities involved is pending. The robed entity was captured by security personnel several minutes later, apologising for intruding into ‘Triumvirate’s domain’ and offering an exchange of information for its freedom. Item #: SCP-8249 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8249-A is uncontained, and currently travelling approximately north-west along the Canada-United States border. SCP-8249-A must be captured by non-lethal means; extreme caution must be exercised as the entity is highly non-cooperative and possesses advanced thaumaturgic capabilities, however SCP-8249-A is not openly aggressive or hostile unless provoked. SCP-8249-C currently resides in a temporary humanoid containment chamber at Site-87, and is provided with standard humanoid meal rations. SCP-8249-C is compliant with Foundation personnel and inquiries, and will willingly exchange information with others; it is unclear to what extent the information they provide is embellished, however, and personnel must avoid divulging information to SCP-8249-C without approval from assigned supervisors. Description: SCP-8249 designates several entities and their possessions, which appeared in the temporary containment chamber of SCP-████ at Site-87 on March 12, 2024. Despite manifesting within and possessing characteristics typical of Nexus-18, the constituents of SCP-8249 are able to leave the Nexus without degredation of their properties. SCP-8249-A is a human male individual identified by SCP-8249-C as ‘Adam of the Transient.’ The individual’s skin is completely tattooed with monochromatic, unidentified glyphs, which enable SCP-8249-A to perform advanced thaumaturgic spells. SCP-8249-A possesses two swords, both reportedly anomalous, and a white mare with abnormal stamina used for transportation. SCP-8249-C claims SCP-8249-A is a prolific hero-figure in their reality of origin, with recounted stories of their exploits extolling SCP-8249-A’s moral character and combat prowess, especially in sword fighting; it is unclear to what extent SCP-8249-C has embellished these stories for dramatic effect. SCP-8249-A has consistently avoided population centres, and only approaches solitary individuals for brief periods of time. SCP-8249-C is a humanoid entity reportedly referred to by SCP-8249-A as ‘Bard.’ The entity’s physical characteristics have continuously changed throughout containment, including height, weight, eye colour, scarring, and so on; although SCP-8249-C has always maintained the general appearance of a human, the entity has not elaborated whether this is a limitation in ability or simply personal preference. The robe worn by SCP-8249-C exhibits similar properties, and is the entity's prefered clothing. Addendum 2: Interview of SCP-8249-C Interviewed: SCP-8249-C Interviewer: Researcher Le Guin [BEGIN LOG] [SCP-8249-C is standing in the corner of an interview room, staring up at the surveillance camera. Researcher Le Guin enters the room, closing the door behind her; SCP-8249-C turns at the noise and points at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Good evening, Anomaly Dash-C. I am Wynne Le Guin. I would like to ask you some questions if I could. SCP-8249-C: What is it? [Researcher Le Guin sits down at the interview table.] Researcher Le Guin: That is a camera. Please, take a seat. SCP-8249-C: What does it do? Researcher Le Guin: It is a surveillance device. It records what it sees and allows my associates to watch us. Please, sit, so we can begin. [SCP-8249-C turns back and stares at the camera.] SCP-8249-C: A Triumvirate looking-glass. Fascinating. [SCP-8249-C reaches up to touch the camera, but are too short; they hop repeatedly but still fail to reach it.] Researcher Le Guin: Please leave it alone. If you sit — SCP-8249-C: Ask away, I don’t need to sit. [SCP-8249-C continues jumping for a short while, then stops and simply stares at the camera.] Researcher Le Guin: Very well. Your name, please? SCP-8249-C: Which? Researcher Le Guin: Which…? [SCP-8249-C turns to Le Guin, counting off using their fingers.] SCP-8249-C: Trinculo, Albertine, Samson, Eltevar, Wordmaker, Marie-anne, Goldervas, Malcheron, One-who-walks-beneath-well-woven-crimson-robes… as with those of Ebutapakht, I have many names for many purposes. If you want only one, be very specific. Researcher Le Guin: Your birth name, then. [SCP-8249-C shakes their head and turns back to the camera. Their eyes are now green.] SCP-8249-C: I had none when I was born, but through many years of toil I now possess at least three hundred. Researcher Le Guin: You have over three hundred different aliases? SCP-8249-C: That’s what I said, yes. A fine collection if I do say so myself, and all of them worth it. Researcher Le Guin: I… see. Do you have a preferred alias, then? One you use the most? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: That would be ‘Bard’, though it isn’t a preference, for I have none. But Adam always calls me Bard, and he speaks of me the most, though rarely in happy tones. Researcher Le Guin: May I call you Bard, then? SCP-8249-C: If you wish, though if you have other names to offer I will be happy to accept them. Probably. Not Svaldi, for reasons you should understand. What was it you called me before? Researcher Le Guin: Anomaly Dash-C. [A pause; SCP-8249-C bobbles their head in thought.] SCP-8249-C: No. Not that one. Researcher Le Guin: I will refer to you as Bard, then. To begin: how did you come to be here? [SCP-8249-C laughs, then turns to face Researcher Le Guin, raising their arms for dramatic effect.] SCP-8249-C: There I was, standing amongst the towering pillars in the hall of Old King Enbarr, a great and cavernous space the size of which you could scarce compare to any elsewhere; before me — at a fair distance, of course, but not too far — was a mighty clash of man against monster, the valiant Adam of the Transient embroiled against one of the fiercest forces among the unseen lord’s host. An archon, no less! What a battle it was! Many times Adam came close to death, but he deftly dodged — Researcher Le Guin: Please, Bard. If you could summarise — SCP-8249-C: Shh! He, Adam, darted behind the mighty columns of the place, escaping the frightful oblivion-flame which sought him, instead scouring the impeccable designs from all it touched, leaving only basest details behind; so too did he evade the ruinous blows of mighty limbs, which found purchase in many pillars and tore them asunder. Such destruction will scar that one-mighty hall forevermore — and the sound! The cries of archon, the roars of Adam, the smashing of stone against stone. All of it ringing out evermore, echoing through eternity as though that lone battle was one of millions, and none would ever reach their close. The spectacle of it was grand to behold! Researcher Le Guin: But how did you arrive here? SCP-8249-C: The battle turned, and sourly so. I will witness such feats from afar with ease and glee; but when harm comes my way, I am less courageous, and more eager to flee. I… I saw the turn and moved to run — and then in an instant, I found myself here, and Adam shortly thereafter. Researcher Le Guin: You don’t remember anything happening in-between? SCP-8249-C: One step was there, the next was here. I know nothing further, other than that it was not my design to intrude upon Triumvirate’s domain. Adam may know, perhaps. Researcher Le Guin: And Adam would be the one who came here with you? Riding the horse? [A pause. SCP-8249-C steps over to the interview table and sits down.] SCP-8249-C: You… did not recognise him? Researcher Le Guin: No. Should I? SCP-8249-C: Do you know who he is? Adam of the Transient? Researcher Le Guin: I do not, no. [A pause. SCP-8249-C looks around.] SCP-8249-C: Fascinating. Researcher Le Guin: Care to explain? [No response.] Researcher Le Guin: Bard? SCP-8249-C: I thought you were Triumvirate by the design of this place, but… do you even know anything of the Three Eternal Tyrants? [A pause; Researcher Le Guin doesn’t respond. SCP-8249-C nods, leaning back in their seat.] SCP-8249-C: A land so far beyond Tyrant’s reach, they are beyond all thought. How… how fascinating. But you are questioning me to learn, are you not? Researcher Le Guin: Will you cooperate? [SCP-8249-C scoffs.] SCP-8249-C: I am not called Bard without reason. It is a great honour to bring these tales to this land — of the endless warring between the ever-covetous Three Eternal Tyrants, of the heroes of the Transient kingdoms, even of the treacherous Svaldi Storm-in-the-Eye. But you want to know first of Adam of the Transient, do you not? I will gladly tell you of our yet-greatest hero, of his insurmountable might, his indominable will, his enduring, unwavering resolve. Researcher Le Guin: Thank you. If you could begin by — SCP-8249-C: But a bard must earn their keep. I expect food, drink, and shelter; I am similarly interested to learn of your lands as well. Each saga shall be met with your own. Researcher Le Guin: I will have to discuss with my superiors, but I believe we will be able to meet those terms. SCP-8249-C: I am not to be interrupted while speaking. I will tell my tale in full, then I may be asked for clarity on points. Researcher Le Guin: That is… workable, but an interview format would be most beneficial to learn facts — SCP-8249-C:Ah, I see. You are only interested in facts? Of names, times, and places, devoid of flair and soul, drained of the atmosphere and circumstances they took place within? That is what you want to hear from me? Researcher Le Guin: That would be preferred, yes. [SCP-8249-C crosses their arms.] SCP-8249-C: Tough shit. The emotion and vigour of events are as valuable as what you seek. You will hear both, or you will hear neither. Go, survey my conditions. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-C refused to communicate for the remainder of the interview. The entity’s terms were accepted. Addendum 3: Narrative Provided by SCP-8249-C regarding SCP-8249-A ‘Of the Origins of Adam of the Transient and the Inheritance of the Sword of Ages’ Where else should one begin with the legends of the great Adam of the Transient, than with the first? Yes! To understand that mighty hero’s drive toward his later magnificent triumphs, you must first know of how he gained the Sword of Ages, and became the man known as Adam. No other can claim greater rise than he, for the growing dawn of his epics was wrought from the passing of a great and deepest darkness, as the final hours of a night. His birthplace once was a great and mighty city, the crowning jewel of a prosperous Transient kingdom, but as all others it changed into ruin among the unending turmoil between the Three Eternal Tyrants. A crowning jewel, but not their own; each sought to claim it their own by divine right, or otherwise deny it the others. So Adam was born the company of farmers, not lords, and among the crumbling, scorched ruins of what once was, night-worthless in the eyes of his kind and in the eyes of the greater powers whose designs made it so. He grew as all his kin did, hearing his elders recount the glory of those bygone golden days as he tilled the earth and shovelled slop. He heard memories of traders ever-coming and ever-going, where now only taxmen come to collect each Tyrant’s tithe; he learned of the soaring beauty of the city, of grand, towering buildings and the mighty, indominable walls that protected them, now lying sundered among fields between beggars’ homes that leak beneath rain; he envisioned men, women, and children of might and opulence, celebrating bountiful boons in flowing robes of silk, purple, and gold, but saw in present only brethren in sackcloth toiling through mud, and often their only celebration was to sleep with satisfied bellies. Adam coveted those days — an age he had never seen nor truly known, except as seen through fading, idyllic memories and the promise of crumbling ruins before they were torn down, yielding room for the burdens of the lesser present. Time and toil tried to erode him too, but Adam held fast in his hope that those greater days could be reclaimed. Even until he came of age, and shouldered the worries it brought; even until a year and half after, when to the crumbling village came an aged man with an aged sword. No name did he give, but one proven false in time; he I had better call Saul, as elsewise he will be let nameless, for his true name is lost within time. He spoke of faraway lands unimagined by the farmers, too focused on scavenging endless tithes to dwell upon useless ideas such as ‘elsewhere.’ He brought news of the Tyrants’ unending bickering — of borders moved, dominions expanded, lands ravaged, salted, scorched, ruined. The domains of the Transients were leaderless and dwindling; Adam’s kin turned their thoughts to which Tyrants they would last longest beneath, which to swear hopeless fealty to. Adam alone asked what could yet be done, how their home might be saved, how those of transient lives, power, and focus might be spared a Tyrant’s rule. He was not mocked, for though unspoken the others around him wondered how it could be done — but not if, as the thought had long ago been relegated to fanciful impossibility, banished by the evidence around them that it had once been but would not endure. They harboured no hope for greater days, even as Saul said it could be done, if one would but take up the mantle; so Adam did, when no-one else would. From summer’s dawn to winter’s peak the wizened man stayed in their company, each entrusted into care of the other. Saul had been a swordsman of renown in his own time, he said; he taught Adam to the greatest extent he could, and Adam in turn shirked many of his responsibilities to devote greater time to the training. By autumn he kept only what was needed to feed himself and his teacher, the rest given to others who benefitted well from his springtime sowing; once harvest passed Adam devoted nigh on every waking moment to his training, though Saul’s health was dwindling, and the extent to which he taught shortened with every passing day. By winter’s rise all he could do was speak from what would be his deathbed, and shortly thereafter his words changed from education to self-reflection. The prime of Saul’s exploits had coincided with the faded Transient golden age, for the former had wrought the latter; the Three Eternal Tyrants can never be bested except by each-other — and dare I say, if even that — and none of them are tolerant of Transients forever. But their eternal conflict could be controlled, maintained at a balanced, perpetual deadlock, leaving the Transient kingdoms untouched within the eye of the storm. This had been Saul’s aspiration, as it had been his predecessors, and so too would it be Adam’s; for a perpetual deadlock demands perpetual maintenance, and the duty need be passed once those pursuing it are weakened and slowed by age, else the storm’s eye would close forevermore upon the Transients thriving within. Saul had succeeded for many a decade, but his works were undone early, brought to ruin by the treachery of the once-great Skadi Storm-in-the-Eye — but that is another tale. Saul was found passed on the dawn of winter’s solstice, his life and body well full of years and the wearies they bring. He was buried among the heart of the ruins; the crowning jewel of a kingdom which flourished with his protection, and crumbled once without. None knew much of him but Adam, and he found few words in mind, fewer still he could bear to speak. Adam’s mourning did not soften until the winter did in kind. When the last snow fell and the first birds sung again, his mind turned toward fulfilling the duty he had been entrusted. He took up his tutor’s blade, the ancient Sword of Ages; a legendary blade passed down for untold aeons through innumerable revered heroes, the emblem and reminder of their unending duty to distract the Three Tyrants — a sword often spoken of in Transient epics, the persistent thorn which defied all greater powers, but scarcely recognised through its mundane, unassuming appearance. Many times it had been forgotten or lost; always it returned, and new wielder would carve the Transients’ golden age anew. Adam’s final farewell came when the roads to elsewhere were clear once more. His kindred found him both familiar and unknown, the man who grew among them and someone new, someone greater than had been seen in many an age. Those who had lived during the greater days found his stature bringing memories of that time to mind, and they bid him good parting, their hearts housing a newfound glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, those greater days could be again. He departed alone with only his sword and name to him. He was not yet certain where he was going, but he found his way in time. Ever since, the tales of Adam of the Transient have grown and grown — tales of trials, tales of triumph. Stories of might, and stories of hope. Note/s: Story exchanged for the history of the Sea Peoples, as known by consensus society. SCP-8249-C was predominantly uninterested in the records, excluding recounts of known battles and speculation on the Sea People’s origins; SCP-8249-C accepted the exchange, but clarified they would only accept prose narratives in future. The Brothers Grimm rendition of Little Red Riding Hood was offered to and accepted by SCP-8249-C to appease it. Addendum 4: SCP-8249-A Capture On July 26, 2024, a civilian in the region of Swift Current, Saskatchewan reported to emergency services that an individual matching SCP-8249-A’s description was in urgent need of medical help; a Foundation task force was dispatched under the guise of paramedics, however SCP-8249-A fled the scene before they could arrive. Two hours later a second, similar call was received, and the task force was dispatched again. [BEGIN LOG] [Four agents are in an ambulance, driving down a gravel road at speed; Agents John Martin and Ben Jacques are in the front wearing paramedic uniforms, while Agents Roland King and Esther Lewis are in the patient compartment, wearing Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniforms. Agent Martin turns the vehicle onto a driveway leading toward a homestead, where a man is waving both arms for attention.] Agent Martin: Look, the horse — he’s still here. [Agent Martin points at SCP-8249-A’s horse, grazing near the front of the house; it looks up at the approaching vehicle and panics, bucking about. The civilian attempts to calm it.] Agent Martin: Get ready back there, he’s probably going to run again! [All four agents pre-emptively remove their seatbelts; Agent Jacques mumbles and makes the sign of the cross, while Agent King prepares a tranquiliser rifle. The horse becomes increasingly erratic the closer the vehicle gets to the house. SCP-8249-A is briefly seen through a downstairs window.] Agent Martin: We’re made, go! Go! [The vehicle skids to a halt and all four agents jump out in unison, non-lethal weapons drawn; the civilian raises their hands. A shrill whistle is heard from the house, and the horse sets off toward the rear; Agent King hits its flank with a tranquiliser dart. Agent Lewis pursues the horse; Agent Roland navigates to the other side of the building; Agents Martin and Jacques enter through the front door, seeing SCP-8249-A flee through the back.] Agent Martin: Stop! [Agents Martin and Jacques pursue; there is a loud crash as SCP-8249-A topples a freestanding shelf to block the door, forcing them to turn back. Agent Lewis reaches the back of the house as SCP-8249-A attempts to mount the horse with a running vault as it passes, but a significant limp prevents him from completing the manoeuvre and he falls off after a short distance, screaming in pain as he tumbles. Agent Lewis rushes in to restrain him as Agent King appears at the opposite end of the building, the horse galloping past and beginning a wide turn.] [SCP-8249-A tries to climb back to his feet, but Agent Lewis pushes him back down, eliciting a shout of pain and another whistle. The two struggle briefly, however SCP-8249-A is visibly sluggish and his breathing is loud and heavy.] Agent Lewis: Stop resisting! Adam, we’re trying — Agent King: Esther, move! [Agent King pulls Agent Lewis away as the horse charges over, rearing on its hind legs to attack and forcing the pair back. Agents Martin and Jacques arrive, and the four agents spread out to encircle SCP-8249-A, but are kept at bay by the horse.] Agent Lewis: Roland, did you get it? Agent King: I got it, just give it a minute or two! [SCP-8249-A slowly gets to his feet, putting all his weight on one leg, then attempts to mount his horse again; he is again unsuccessful, partially dislodging the saddle, and is unable to try again as the horse becomes unsteady, stumbling away before collapsing onto the ground. SCP-8249-A draws a sword, constantly turning and looking about, tracking the four agents positioned around him. His stance is unsteady.] Agent Jacques: Adam, I need to help the horse, and I need to help you. Just calm down, and let’s talk. [SCP-8249-A steadies his grip. Agent King subtly draws his taser and nods to Agent Martin, who is positioned on the opposite side of SCP-8249-A.] Agent Martin: Hey! [SCP-8249-A turns to Agent Martin; Agent King fires his taser into SCP-8249-A’s back. He seizes and drops his sword, then falls face-first into the ground; Agents Martin and Lewis rush in to restrain SCP-8249-A, while Agent Jacques sprints over to the horse to restrain it and administer an antidote.] [SCP-8249-A attempts to struggle, but is too weak to meaningfully resist. Once he is handcuffed, Agent Lewis steps over to the sword and picks it up; she gasps and throws it a small distance away.] Agent Martin: You good? What happened? [Agent Lewis does not respond, staring at the sword. Agent King puts away his taser and steps over to pick the sword up.] Agent Lewis: Don’t touch it! [Agent King pulls his hands back. Agent Esther crouches down beside SCP-8249-A, rolling up one leg of his pants; the entire leg is covered in a large, swollen blood blister.] Agent Martin: Holy — Agent Lewis: Jacques, we need antivenom, now! [Agent King sprints over to Agent Jacques to swap places with him.] Agent Martin: Adam, talk to us, do you remember the snake? What colour — Agent Lewis: Sandy with brown patches along the back. Prairie rattlesnake. [Agent Martin glances at Agent Lewis.] Agent Martin: How would you know that? Agent Lewis: The sword gave me his memories, and everyone whose ever held it — he was bitten by a prairie rattlesnake yesterday afternoon. I remember it. [END LOG] Afterword: SCP-8249-A was immediately transported to Cypress Regional Hospital for emergency treatment and stabilisation before being relocated to Site-87. The horse was similarly collected and relocated once sedated. All civilian witnesses were informed SCP-8249-A was a fugitive wanted for non-violent crimes in the state of Minnesota. From: tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi#tni.pcs.hcem|372vonavi To: tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb#tni.pcs.cca|870neldarb Subject: SCP-████ Look, this submarine has been sitting here in Site-87 for… I don’t even know how long, and that’s proof enough that it’s already been too long. We aren’t properly equipped to study it. It’s out of our purview. We’re preoccupied with all the storylines this town keeps concocting, and the longer this piece of junk is taking up space here, the more likely it is to turn into a MacGuffin, or a red herring, or one of half a dozen other tropes that will make our lives hell. Logistics can pick it up and take it to Site-██, I’m sure the guys over there will find something useful with it. It’s not staying here any longer. Page 2 of 3 >> |
SCP-8250 | euclid | close Info X SCP-8250: Eternal Darkness Author: FreezerMonkey The Department name, Tenebris, is the latin word for darkness. Image: "deep dark forest" by craigCloutier is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0. Image: "deers at dark time" by bradleygee is licensed under CC BY 2.0. Image: "The Dark Heart (of the Forest)" by bogenfreund is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0. 3/8250 LEVEL 3/8250 CLASSIFIED Item #: SCP-8250 euclid SCP-8250 interior. It is unknown where the light, as little as it is, comes from. Special Containment Procedures: A 3-kilometer by 3-kilometer perimeter has been constructed around SCP-8250, which security personnel are to patrol regularly. Any civilians approaching the containment facility are to be redirected around it or amnesticised, to be decided on a case-by-case basis. Should any SCP-8250-1 instancs attempt to breach containment, MTF Lambda-11 ("Night Terrors") is to either neutralize or capture them, depending on the danger. Description: SCP-8250 is a 2.5-kilometre squared forested area in Bragg Creek1 Provincial Park. Instead of a regular forest, the area appears to have been replaced by a visually pure black dome. This dome appears to have a smoke-like texture and is in constant motion. The surface of the dome, at last measure, absorbs 99.8% of all light, contributing to the darkness. The inside of SCP-8250, designated SCP-8250-1 appears to be relatively unchanged. However, there are a few major differences. The biggest change is the lack of most light, though not all. This has not changed since SCP-8250 cropped up. The wildlife within, designated SCP-8250-2 instances also appears to be substantially more hostile. They have also been observed to have increased ability in certain areas.2. This change has been attributed to an anomalous form of radiation causing rapid change on an atomic level. At the center of SCP-8250-1 is a sphere shaped entity, designated SCP-8250-4. It resembles SCP-8250 and appears to display a memetic effect on those who come into contact with it, as well as theists who enter SCP-8250. The reason why theists are affected so drastically is unknown. It also appears to be the source of SCP-8250. Guarding SCP-8250-4 is SCP-8250-3, a mutated creature once known as Squad Leader Vasquez. Currently, SCP-8250-3 stands at 7 meters tall, and a lopsided form, shorter on the left side than the right. SCP-8250-3 has also displayed tremendous strength and musculature, being stronger than any SCP-8250-2 instance. Discovery: SCP-8250 was discovered after several groups of hikers went missing in the area over the summer of 2022. Park rangers dispatched to the location also went missing. Several viral videos of the area were recorded and posted before being taken down and cited as misinformation. Foundation personnel were finally alerted following this and a Foundation presence was established. Addendum 8250.1: Documented SCP-8250-2 Instances The following log details the 4 kinds of SCP-8250-2 instances found inside SCP-8250 and their differences to their non-anomalous counterparts. Designation: SCP-8250-2-A Type of Animal: White-Tailed Deer Notes: Substantial increase in strength noted. Subjects capable of breaking through 7 inch thick steel walls over the course of 15 minutes. Canines3 observed. Subject also seen eating live prey. Eye contact advised. Designation: SCP-8250-2-B Type of Animal: Blue Jay Notes: Subject has dramatically increased in size, by nearly 12 times. Talons noted to be similar to those found in birds of prey. However, the beak has remained the same. Designation: SCP-8250-2-C Type of Animal: Beaver Notes: No outwardly obvious signs of change. However, massively increased intelligence has been observed. SCP-8250-2-C instances seen building highly advanced structures out of wood, and engaging in activities that generally only humans engage in. Designation: SCP-8250-2-D Type of Animal: Eastern Gray Squirrel Notes: Subjects seen engaging in hive-mind behaviour, swarming prey in an attempt to kill. Addendum 8250.2: SCP-8250 Discussion MEETING LOG NOTES: The following log details a meeting between Observation Post-124 personnel. PERSONNEL PRESENT: Head Researcher Williams Senior Researcher Meyers Senior Researcher Davis Researcher Collins [BEGIN LOG] Head Researcher Williams: All present? Researcher Collins: I'd like a present. Head Researcher Williams looks at Researcher Collins sternly. Researcher Collins: Some people, man. Lighten up, yeah? Head Researcher Williams: Can we just get on with it? Now, are we all present? Chorus of yes' heard. Head Researcher Williams: Good. What do we have? Senior Researcher Davis: We discovered that SCP-8250 is emitting some sort of energy. So yesterday I sent some guys over with Geiger counters. The energy it's emitting? Radiation, or some anomalous form of it. I've decided to call the type it gives off A-Radiation. Head Researcher Williams: Why Geiger counters? Senior Researcher Davis shrugs. Senior Researcher Davis: Based on the imaging we've already done, I thought it was reasonable. Senior Researcher Meyers: I did take the liberty of asking for assistance from MTF Lambda-11. They're uniquely suited to entering such territory. Head Researcher Williams: Excellent. Collins, I need you to prepare them when they arrive, okay? Researcher Collins: Aye aye captain. Head Researcher Williams sighs. Head Researcher Williams: Take this seriously, please. Researcher Collins shrugs. Researcher Collins: Yeah, sorry. Can't help it. Head Researcher Williams: I can understand that, I really do, but please just tone it back. Researcher Collins: Of course. Apologies. Head Researcher Williams nods at Researcher Collins. Head Researcher Williams: Does anyone have anything else? Everyone shakes their head. Head Researcher Williams: Very well. Meeting adjourned. [END LOG] Closing Statement: MTF Lambda-11 arrived within an hour following the end of the meeting, and were met with Researcher Collins. Addendum 8250.3: MTF Lambda-11 Preparation Exploration Preparation Exploration Team: MTF Lambda-11 ("Night Terrors") Subject: SCP-8250 Project Lead: Head Researcher Williams Project Assistant: Researcher Collins Team Members: Squad Leader Vasquez, Sergeant Chen, Corporal Barry, Corporal Rosanna [BEGIN LOG] Researcher Collins is seen finishing up preparations for Lambda-11 to enter into SCP-8250. Researcher Collins: And… all set! Squad Leader Vasquez: Thanks. Anything we should know before we go in? Researcher Collins: Obviously it's highly radioactive in there, at least, we think so. The radiation is very anomalous and mutagenic. Not your normal radiation. I'm not sure how long the suits will protect you for. So my suggestion? Get in and get out as soon as you can. Squad Leader Vasquez: Understood. Head Researcher Williams enters and nods a greeting at the squad leader. Head Researcher Williams: Welcome. I assume Collins gave a short briefing? Sergeant Chen: Correct. Head Researcher Williams: Good. All we want you to do is do a bit of observation. Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. And if you feel like you need to draw back, do it. Squad Leader Vasquez nods sharply. Squad Leader Vasquez: Alright team. Move out. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Lambda-11 set off immediately following this. Addendum 8250.4: SCP-8250 Attempted Exploration Log Exploration Video Log Transcript Exploration Team: MTF Lambda-11 ("Night Terrors") Subject: SCP-8250 Project Lead: Head Researcher Williams Project Assistant: N/A Team Members: Squad Leader Vasquez, Sergeant Chen, Corporal Barry, Corporal Rosanna Notes: N/A [BEGIN LOG] Lambda-11 finally reaches the base of SCP-8250 after a long hike. Squad Leader Vasquez: In and out, as quick and efficiently as we can. Alright, let's move. Entry into SCP-8250 is achieved. Radio contact lost for 3.3 minutes. Squad Leader Vasquez: - you hear me? Head Researcher Williams: Loud and clear. Sergeant Chen: It is dark here. Like, darker than anything natural. Head Researcher Williams: Hold one moment, Lambda-11. There's radio silence for 33 seconds before Head Researcher Williams talks again. Head Researcher Williams: SCP-8250-1 appears to have inherited many of the same properties of SCP-8250. That includes its absorption of nearly all light. The fact there is light at all is odd. And on that note, I would advise you switch over to night vision. Please continue. Squad Leader Vasquez: Copy. Lambda-11, move out. As they move, the darkness makes even the night vision struggle. Squad Leader Vasquez soon spots what appears to be a small herd of SCP-8250-2-A instances. SCP-8250-2-A instances as captured by bodycam Squad Leader Vasquez: Halt! Lambda-11: Halting! Squad Leader Vasquez: Command, we've got something. Please advise, over. Head Researcher Williams: Copy. Appears to be a herd of SCP-8250-2-A instances. I'd advise you back away very slowly. They don't look like much, but they're much stronger than you. And don't break eye contact, whatever you do. Squad Leader Vasquez: Copy that. Lambda-11, we're moving out. Back away slowly, don't break eye contact, alright? Lambda-11: Understood. Suddenly, Corporal Barry sneezes and the deer tense up. Head Researcher Williams: Run! Squad Leader Vasquez: Run. The SCP-8250-2-A instances pounce, and Sergeant Chen is immediately taken down. The bodycam captures the noise of gunshots and screaming before turning off. [END LOG] Closing Statement: All contact with Lambda-11 was lost following this event. Presumed deceased. Addendum 8250.5: Incident Log 1/8250 The following details an incident involving SCP-8250-2 shortly after the attempted exploration by MTF Lambda-11. [BEGIN LOG] 12:07 - SCP-8250 smokey pattern starts shifting faster. 12:11 - A herd of SCP-8250-2-A instances stampede out, followed by SCP-8250-2-B through C. 12:17 - All essential personnel evacuated out. 12:19 - Observation Post-12 overrun by SCP-8250-2. 13:01 - Reinforcements arrive and begin assault. 13:13 - Observation Post-12 defenses break. SCP-8250-2 instances pushed back into SCP-8250-1. 13:14 - Observation Post-12 retaken. 15:24 - More reinforcements flown in. Permanent paramilitary force established. [END LOG] Closing Statement: This event led to the realization that the entities within SCP-8250 are able to leave SCP-8250-1 at any time. It is currently unknown why SCP-8250-2 does not do so. Addendum 8250.6: SCP-8250 Discussion #2 MEETING LOG NOTES: The following log details the second meeting between Observation Post-12 personnel, in regards to recent events. PERSONNEL PRESENT: Head Researcher Williams Senior Researcher Meyers Senior Researcher Davis Researcher Collins [BEGIN LOG] Personnel file in and sit down. They all look shaken. Researcher Collins breathes in and blows out slowly. Head Researcher Williams: Well we've certainly had a rough day. Senior Researcher Meyers: In a way, it was necessary, if you ask me. Senior Researcher Davis: If we're thinking the same thing, then I agree with Meyers. Head Researcher Williams: And what's that? Researcher Collins: We got too complacent. We didn't expect SCP-8250 to surprise us. Now we'll be ready. Senior Researcher Meyers: Exactly. Senior Researcher Davis: I hate to be that guy, but we need another MTF out here. Researcher Collins: Didn't they just all die? Head Researcher Williams: No. That was merely a detachment of them. The rest are off doing whatever MTF's do in their spare time. Senior Researcher Davis: Well get them over here then. Except with proper equipment. Let's smoke these guys! Head Researcher Williams: No! I will not risk unnecessary lives. End of! Before Senior Researcher Davis can argue, a beeping sounds starts emanating from one of the computers. Senior Researcher Meyers quickly checks it and pales. Senior Researcher Meyers: It's… it's the camera footage from Squad Leader Vasquez. Researcher Collins: Vasquez? Isn't he the one we sent into - Senior Researcher Davis: Into SCP-8250? Yeah, he is. Head Researcher Williams: Alright. Put it up. [END LOG] Closing Statement: N/A Addendum 8250.7: Further SCP-8250 Exploration Footage Exploration Video Log Transcript Exploration Team: N/A Subject: SCP-8250 Project Lead: N/A Project Assistant: N/A Team Members: Squad Leader Vasquez [BEGIN LOG] Squad Leader Vasquez stumbles along the forestline, muttering to himself. Squad Leader Vasquez: Forest… forest won't take me. Different SCP-8250-2 instances can be sighted as Squad Leader Vasquez walks. For unknown reasons, they seem wary, and do not attack. Squad Leader Vasquez: But God shall. God shall have me. For I have seen Its face. For God is the Great Orb It is unknown what this face of god, nor the Great Orb, is that Squad Leader Vasquez kept referring to. Squad Leader Vasquez God is [COGNITOHAZARD EXPUNGED]. Squad Leader Vasquez: [COGNITOHAZARD EXPUNGED]. Squad Leader Vasquez: God. I am yours. Squad Leader Vasquez rips off his Radiological Protection Suit5 and collapses. The camera is obscured for most of the time, but it captures him writing on the ground. A mishappen anomaly, now designated SCP-8250-3 can be seen running off into the trees. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Head Researcher Williams ordered for a detachment of MTF Lambda-11 to assist shortly after. Addendum 8250.9: Reaction MEETING LOG NOTES: The following log details Observation Post-12 Personnel's reaction to the final log from MTF Lambda-11's failed exploration attempt. PERSONNEL PRESENT: Head Researcher Williams Senior Researcher Meyers Senior Researcher Davis Researcher Collins [BEGIN LOG] Senior Researcher Meyers: That was… Senior Researcher Davis: Disconcerting? Senior Researcher Meyers: What was that? Researcher Collins: I just did a quick vitals check, and before he transformed, for lack of better word, he was emitting A-Radiation on a similar scale to SCP-8250. Senior Researcher Davis: What? Why? Researcher Collins shrugs and Head Researcher Williams speaks up. Head Researcher Williams: Perhaps you were right, Davis. I've asked for another detachment of Lambda-11 to come and assist us. Senior Researcher Davis: About time. Researcher Collins: Are we sure that's wise? The last detachment died pretty much instantly. Head Researcher Williams: Wise? Perhaps not. Necessary? Yes. Senior Researcher Meyers: I think Collins wants to go in. Researcher Collins: Alright, listen here asshole. I - Head Researcher Williams: Will both of you JUST SHUT UP! Senior Researcher Meyers and Collins both quiet down. Head Researcher Williams: We're all supposed to be adults here. Act like it! Researcher Collins: Apologies. Senior Researcher Meyers: I'm sorry. Head Researcher Williams sighs. Head Researcher Williams: The reason I asked for them is because we need to find whatever it is Vasquez was talking about. The Great Orb, he called it. Senior Researcher Meyers: Didn't that drive him crazy? Head Researcher Williams: Or perhaps something else did. Researcher Collins: Comforting. Senior Researcher Davis: We can, at the very least, try and make sure they don't take their suits off. Head Researcher Williams: Then do it. Researcher Collins: On that topic, can we talk about what happened to Vasquez? Everyone looks at Researcher Collins. Researcher Collins: Well, he mutated into some weird Wendigo6 thing in seconds. Is no-one going to comment on that? Senior Researcher Meyers: Actually, he's got a point. We're going to have to assume this new Vasquez is just as hostile as the other SCP-8250-2 instances. What do we do if we meet him. Senior Researcher Davis: Neutralize him. End of. An argument broke out following this statement. For the sake of brevity, it has been omitted from the record. Head Researcher Williams: If he acts hostile towards Lambda-11, they'll neutralize him. If not, they'll leave him be. Simple enough. There's some grumbling, but no-one says anything. Head Researcher Williams: If that's all, this meeting is adjourned. [END LOG] Closing Statement: A detachment from MTF Lambda-11 arrived at Observation Post-11 3 hours after this meeting. Addendum 8250.9: Head Researcher Williams' Notes The following details Head Researchers Williams thoughts on SCP-8250. They were taken shortly after the last meeting. That was quite painful. It's like all the personnel here are children. But alas, I am not here to bitch about other people. I have been thinking about what Vasquez said. He said he saw God. I am not convinced he did not. Perhaps what we're witnessing is natures evolutionary ascent. I mean, look at it! Beavers with enhanced intelligence, squirrels with hive minds, deer strong enough to rip through steel. Life evolved in the dark, after all. And what is this if not evolution? It's ironic. I have been a theist for all these years despite my work at the Foundation. I have been called crazy for it. And yet, here I stand, about to discover God. Maybe I was right. Maybe it was all worth it. Or maybe I'm just a tired old man who's had too much time to think, who's going crazy. But regardless of what it is, I will figure this out. Lambda-11 shall be the surgical tool I use to cut this mystery open. And then we shall see what I am. Addendum 8250.10: MTF Lambda-11 Exploration Attempt #2 Exploration Video Log Transcript Exploration Team: MTF Lambda-11 ("Night Terrors") Subject: SCP-8250 Project Lead: Head Researcher Williams Project Assistant: N/A Team Members: Squad Leader Klein, Sergeant Belson, Corporal Butler, Corporal Johanna Notes: The preparation log for this attempt has been omitted for brevity's sake. [BEGIN LOG] MTF Lambda-11 is seen in a truck this time around. As they pass through SCP-8250, the light level immediately drops. Corporal Butler: Sure is dark. Head Researcher Williams: Humanity evolved in the dark. You'll be fine. Squad Leader Klein: Roger. Sergeant Belson: What does that even mean? Squad Leader Klein shrugs. Corporal Johanna: That's what we're trying to figure out, right? Head Researcher Williams: Squad Leader Vasquez of the detachment went crazy after finding something in there. We need you to find it. Sergeant Belson: Er, he sees the paradox in that, right? Head Researcher Williams: Yes. It seems crazy. Sergeant Belson jolts. Sergean Belson: Oh shit. He can hear me? Head Researcher Williams: Yes. And I agree, it is paradoxical. That's why you have updated SCRAMBLE goggles as part of your gear. It should prevent any visual cognitohazards. Corporal Johanna: Should? That's comforting. The truck comes to a stop. Squad Leader Klein: Alright. Let's go. MTF Lambda-11 disembarks from the truck and starts moving on foot. Squad Leader Klein: Command, are you getting any readings? Head Researcher Williams: Yeah. I'm getting some really weird radiation readings 3 klicks north of you. Odd that I can see it through SCP-8250. Squad Leader Klein: Copy. Lambda-11, we're heading north. Corporal Butler: Boy am I glad we have these suits. Approximately 1.7 klicks into their journey, MTF Lambda encounters a hive of SCP-8250-2-D instances, who immediately attack. Luckily, Lambda-11's reinforced RPS' prevent any damage while the instances are taken care of. Corporal Butler: Command, have you ever fought a horde of hive minded squirrels before? Squad Leader Klein: Quiet. Head Researcher Williams: Can't say that I have Butler. Certainly wasn't on my to do list. Corporal Johanna: Good. Squad Leader Klein shoots her a look of warning. Head Researcher Williams: Keep heading north. You're only about a click away now. MTF Lamdba-11 keeps walking and enters dense forest area. And there, in between the trees, is the Great Orb. [UNSUCCESSFUL IMAGE UPLOAD] [IMAGE CORRUPTED] The entire squad wince once they see it, presumed to be a reaction to the large amounts of radiation. Sergeant Belson: Holy shit. Corporal Butler: Oh my God Squad Leader Klein: Command? What the fuck is that thing? Head Researcher Williams: It's… it's everything I imagined. It's beautiful. Corporal Johanna drops to one knee and unsteadily gets up again. Corporal Johanna: Painful is what it is. Can we go, Clark7? Squad Leader Klein: Command, we're getting out of here! Head Researcher Williams: No! Stay! Please! A piercing roar is heard as what used to be Vasquez enters the area. It's a very tall, muscular creature, slumped to one side. Lambda-11 immediately opens fire. Squad Leader Klein: Let's go! Head Researcher Williams: This is the culmination of everything I've ever dreamed of! You won't take that from me! Unknown8: What in Gods name are you doing?! Head Researcher Williams: I'm doing it for them! A scuffle ensues on the other end of the radio, a few bangs heard, before it's reactivated. Head Researcher Williams: I'm sorry for this. An electric shock passes through each of the members of Lambda-11, incapacitating them. Head Researcher Williams walks away from the radio as a series of squelching noises occur. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Head Researcher Williams, now designated POI-8250, was last seen entering SCP-8250. Addendum 8250.11: Final Meeting Log MEETING LOG NOTES: N/A PERSONNEL PRESENT: Senior Researcher Meyers Senior Researcher Davis [BEGIN LOG] Senior Researcher Meyers and Senior Researcher Davis enter the room carefully and sit down. Senior Researcher Davis: Where's Collins? I want to apologize to him. I was an asshole. It's been a rough few days is all. Senior Researcher Meyers doesn't answer immediately, just slumps over onto the table for a moment. Senior Researcher Meyers: Collins is… is dead. Killed by POI-8250 Senior Researcher Davis clenches his fists and starts crying. Senior Researcher Davis: Bastard. Senior Researcher Meyers: Yeah. Senior Researcher Davis: We need to go after him. Before he kills someone else. Senior Researcher Meyers: I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Senior Researcher Davis: Listen, I asked for a detachment of Lambda-11 again. Want to know what they said? Senior Researcher Meyers looks at Senior Researcher Davis expectantly. Senior Researcher Davis: They said they can't afford to help us like that anymore and that we better cut our losses. Senior Researcher Meyers: You must understand where they're coming from. Senior Researcher Davis: And you must understand I'm going regardless. The two men stare at each other for a minute before Senior Researcher Meyers relents. Senior Researcher Meyers: Fine. But I'd rather not die for this. You think Collins would have wanted that? If things get too dangerous, we pull out, okay? Senior Researcher Davis: Deal. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Senior Researcher Davis and Meyers left Observation Post-12 shortly after. Addendum 8250.12: Final Exploration Log Exploration Video Log Transcript Exploration Team: N/A Subject: SCP-8250 Project Lead: N/A Project Assistant: N/A Team Members: Senior Researcher Meyers, Senior Researcher Davis Notes: N/A Senior Researcher Meyers and Senior Researcher Davis walk through SCP-8250. The drop in light is barely perceptible. Senior Researcher Meyers: Did you see that? Senior Researcher Davis: Or rather, not see that? Senior Researcher Meyers: I'd hazard a guess that SCP-8250 has gradually been spreading and we just didn't notice. Senior Researcher Davis nods. Senior Researcher Davis: This may be stretching a bit, but doesn't it seem awfully convenient that Williams enters SCP-8250 and then it starts expanding? Senior Researcher Meyers: Yes. But the more important question is where are all the SCP-8250-2 instances? The two senior researchers look around, and see nothing. Senior Researcher Davis: Somehow I wish we could see them. I don't like this. Senior Researcher Meyers: Neither do I. But you made me come here. Senior Researcher Davis glares at Senior Researcher Meyers for a moment before relenting. Senior Researcher Davis: Maybe we should turn back. I don't want to be responsible for someones death. Senior Researcher Meyers shakes his head. Senior Researcher Meyers: You'd go without me anyway. I can't let you go alone. Besides, I understand why you're going. Senior Researcher Davis: I… thank you. Senior Researcher Meyers: Shall we get a move on? Senior Researcher Davis sniffs. Senior Researcher Davis: Sure. Senior Researcher Meyers: Then lets head north, shall we? Senior Researcher Davis nods. No SCP-8250-2 instances are spotted on the way there. As they approach the center of SCP-8250-1, they start to slow down. Sensors detect a spike in A-Radiation. Senior Researcher Meyers: Yep, I feel that. Senior Researcher Davis: Get down! The two crouch down. Roughly 50 meters away, a group of SCP-8250-2 instances can be seen. Oddly they appear to be doing nothing except standing in a circle around something. SCP-8250-3 presumed to be nearby. Senior Researcher Davis: Can you see what they're doing? Senior Researcher Meyers: I'm not sure I want to. Senior Researcher Davis: I'm getting a better look. Senior Researcher Meyers: No! Despite Senior Researcher Meyers' warnings, Senior Researcher Davis starts to creep closer. Senior Researcher Meyers sighs and follows. They both stop 50 meters from the circle of SCP-8250-2 instances to reveal SCP-8250-3 and POI-8250 both in the center of the circle. Senior Researcher Meyers: Is that…? Senior Researcher Davis: Williams. Senior Researcher Meyers looks at Senior Researcher Davis, who's gone pale. He then pulls out a pistol. Senior Researcher Meyers: No. Davis, no. Davis! Senior Researcher Davis rushes out of hiding towards the circle, screaming. The SCP-8250-2 instances fail to react. Senior Researcher Davis: Williams! POI-8250 looks towards Senior Researcher Davis with a sorrowful look. POI-8250: Hello Davis. Are you here to kill me? Senior Researcher Davis: After what you did, yes! Senior Researcher Davis' hands start shaking. Back behind cover, Senior Researcher Meyers curses. POI-8250: Yes, Collins. You must understand - Senior Researcher Davis: That you killed him in cold blood? Yes, I understand. POI-8250: No. That he had to die. God demands sacrifice. Evolution demands sacrifice. Senior Researcher Davis scoffs. Senior Researcher Davis: God? What god? POI-8250: The Great Orb. The one true God. Senior Researcher Davis: The one true… From out of the trees, SCP-8250-4 emerges. Akiva and A-Radiation levels spike. All Everyone in the area except Senior Researcher Davis kneel as best they can. Suddenly, Senior Researcher Meyers is yanked out of his hiding spot into the air, presumed to be by SCP-8250-4. Senior Researcher Davis quickly follows suit. Senior Researcher Meyers: Sonuva - POI-8250: Meyers. I was wondering where you were. Hiding, were we? Senior Researcher Meyers spits at POI-8250. POI-8250 doesn't react. POI-8250: No matter. God loves you anyway. He shall help you evolve, just as he helped all these beings. Senior Researcher Davis: Evolve? Help us? You're a crazy bastard, you know that? POI-8250: No no no. I only want what's best for humanity. I want us to be better, to evolve. Is that so bad? Senior Researcher Meyers: The way you want it? Yes. POI-8250 looks at the two sadly. POI-8250: So be it. Tendrils extend from SCP-8250 and pierce straight through Senior Researcher Meyers and Davis and their bodycams shut off. They are presumed compromised. There has been no further contact with Observation Post-12. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Shortly after the events described here, several more SCP-8250 instances began to show over the country. A new religion calling themselves the Church of Evolutionism, designated GOI-8250 also showed up roughly at the same time. Addendum 8250.13: Excerpt from POI-8250 Opening Speech The following details POI-8250 opening speech as the Church of Evolutionism was established. It is unknown how he remains as he is, unmutated. Our Goal at the Church of Evolutionism Evolution. It brought us to where we are today. It brought us money, electricity. It brought us cities and towns, running water, and clean clothes. It brought us everything we have today. But humanity did not evolve in the light. It evolved in the dark, before lights, before fire. Now, we at the Church of Evolutionism do not believe we need to stop evolving simply because we have everything we have. No, we believe the most noble goal to strive for is to evolve. And to do that, we need to accept the dark. We need to accept the Great Orb, the trigger of all evolution, and the final destination of it. Accept the Great Orb my friend. Accept it, and you can have everything. [UNSUCCESSFUL IMAGE UPLOAD] [IMAGE CORRUPTED] [IMAGE REUPLOADING] [UNSUCCESSFUL IMAGE UPLOAD] [IMAGE CORRUPTED] [IMAGE REUPLOADING] [UNSUCCESSFUL IMAGE UPLOAD] [IMAGE CORRUPTED] [IMAGE REUPLOADING] [UNSUCCESSFUL IMAGE UPLOAD] [IMAGE CORRUPTED] [IMAGE REUPLOADING] … [IMAGE UPLOAD SUCCESSFUL] We evolved in the dark, and in the dark we shall evolve more. And God is here to help us do it. Footnotes 1. Located in Alberta, Canada. 2. See Addendum 8250.1. 3. Teeth meant for tearing flesh. Commonly associated with the Canidae family. 4. The temporary base of operations of SCP-8250 assigned personnel. 5. Abbreviated to RPS. 6. Mythological creatures. Either spirits which possess humans and cause them to eat human flesh, or giant humanoids with hearts of ice, depending on the interpretation. 7. Squad Leader Klein's first name. 8. Later determined to be Researcher Collins ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8250" by FreezerMonkey, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8250. 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-XXXX-1.png Name: deep dark forest Author: craigCloutier License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://openverse.org/image/4ddc3f41-b692-4f37-ada5-ce1307f78c03?q=dark%20forest Additional Notes: Modifications made to the original. I darkened the original image. Filename: SCP-XXXX-2-A.png Name: deers at dark time Author: bradleygee License: CC-BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://openverse.org/image/dc9561ed-ec40-43b5-8fee-d3ec482c91b7?q=deer%20in%20the%20dark Additional Notes: Modifications made. Modified the saturation and hue filter, added some noise. Filename: Great Orb.png Name: The Dark Heart (of the Forest) Author: bogenfreund License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://openverse.org/image/18d497be-21c3-4ff9-8895-54cb911178b4?q=dark%20forest Additional Notes: Modifcations made reduced saturation, added a hue filter and upped the green levels. Added some noise, and a circle. |
SCP-8255 | pending | Item#: 8255 Level1 Secondary Class: N/A Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8255's existence is yet to be confirmed. Foundation webcrawler I/O-PLEASANT is being used to monitor websites that primarily focus on paranormal events and cryptozoology for any mention of entities fitting the criteria of SCP-8255. Due to the nature of information on SCP-8255, any mention of SCP-8255 will not be targeted for deletion to encourage discussion of SCP-8255 so that more information may come to light. Additionally, all witnesses to SCP-8255 events will not be contacted by any personnel due to low priority and the possibility of affecting future gathering of information about SCP-8255, though this is subject to change should there be any reason to contact those individuals. Any personnel who believe they may have encountered SCP-8255 in the past are recommended to inform the Department of Unconfirmed Anomalies. Description: SCP-8255 refers to the collection of entities involved in several events listed in the below table. The only known constant of SCP-8255 is their possession of five legs. Due to a lack of coherence between sources regarding SCP-8255, it is currently unfeasible to fill out the description of this document any further. All information regarding different SCP-8255 sightings is currently in the below table. Reported Sightings of SCP-8255: All sources listed are placed in the order they were created, not in the order their associated event happened. The order in which the sources were found has been placed next to their dates. All sources have been shortened to remove any unnecessary and irrelevant information. Access to any of the unabridged sources can be provided at any terminal at a Level-1 clearance level. Original Documentation Location of Sighting Description of Event Article in a local newspaper "Fallview Gossiper" 27th of April 1998.5 Fallview, Nevada. An unnamed witness was exiting their bedroom to get water from their kitchen sink when they spotted SCP-8255 walking into their house through their front door. SCP-8255 was described as having "the appearance of chewed gum" in shape, texture, and color, with five limb-like protrusions. SCP-8255 was believed to lack visual sensory organs, repeatedly bumping into various pieces of furniture. The witness claimed to have attempted to contact local authorities but their phone was rendered inoperable during the event. The witness eventually attempted to assault SCP-8255 with a broom, causing SCP-8255 to quickly move around the witness' house before leaving out the open front door. Originally posted on a Parawatch thread focused on the topic of crypto-zoological encounters. 13th of November 2018.4 Mackinac Island, MI Witness uses the pseudonym Crypt0K33p3r, real name is Isaac Woods. The witness spotted SCP-8255 while on a camping trip with their family when they left the area momentarily while the others were asleep to relieve themself. While returning, the witness found SCP-8255 in the form of a deer suffering from albinism with a fifth leg extruding from the left side of its abdomen. SCP-8255 appeared to be completely still during the entirety of the encounter. The witness desired to photograph SCP-8255 but had left their phone in their tent. The witness went back to their tent to retrieve their phone but then decided against going back and decided to sleep. Upon waking up, the witness tried to relocate SCP-8255 with no success. The witness reported hearing a soft buzzing sound for the rest of their trip. Reply to the previous event's post. 15th March 2019. Believed to have occurred between 2004 and 2011.3 Granville, Ohio. Witness uses the pseudonym Idiosynthetic, real name is Bernadette Foley. The witness spotted SCP-8255 while at a party with their family in their adolescence1. Near midnight, the witness went into their basement to avoid talking to their family. While going upstairs to get food, the witness noticed SCP-8255 on the stairs leading to the main floor. SCP-8255 is described as being similar to an octopus, although with five tentacles instead of eight, and a dark red coloration. Witness, alarmed by the sudden appearance of SCP-8255, accidentally fell down the stairs, receiving no serious injuries. The witness did not see SCP-8255 present on the stairs afterward. After the event, witness infrequently had nightmares involving SCP-8255. Text messages sent by a phone taken by a fifthist cultist. 6th to 14th of May 20212 Georgie, Michigan. Witness's real name is Drew Banks, recipient's name is Jessie Haines. The conversation begins shortly after the end of the SCP-8255 event. At the start of the conversation, the majority of messages from the witness feature multiple spelling and grammar mistakes to the point of near unreadability. The recipient attempts to calm down the witness, succeeding after a period of time. Witness describes SCP-8255 as a humanoid of medium height wearing a white bathrobe with grey hair and pale skin. SCP-8255 suddenly appeared next to the witness's bed at some point while they were sleeping, looking down at the witness when they woke up. After waking up, the witness attempted to call for help; however, they were unable to as their phone's battery was uncharged. Witness plugged their phone into a charging cable when they noticed that SCP-8255's left leg split in two at the hip, and its right split in three at the knee. Witness experienced a sudden, intense headache, and passed out from the pain. The rest of the conversation revolves around SCP-8255's possible connection to fifthism. Emergency report sent by custodian, Jamie Henshaw. 23:47, 3rd of December 2022.1 Illinois, Site-29 Men's Restroom. SCP-8255 was supposedly spotted by the witness while performing maintenance in one of Site-29's restrooms. After noticing SCP-8255, the witness immediately exited the restroom to report an anomalous sighting. Upon returning with additional personnel, SCP-8255 was not present. SCP-8255 seemed to have evaded being seen on camera due to repairs on the surveillance system within the site due to a previous incident rendering them unusable. The witness described SCP-8255 as a waist-high, light-pink arachnid with five limbs that pulsated while standing still otherwise. The description given was used to search for any other possible sightings, which would eventually lead to the discovery of the above sources. Consensus On Theories Regarding SCP-8255: The Department of Unconfirmed Anomalies holds monthly meetings to create theories on anomalies under their jurisdiction that members would then vote on the legitimacy of. The results of these votes would then dictate ways that research involving those anomalies would be focused or broadened. SCP-8255 had recently reached the required amount of information to be acknowledged at the meeting of March 2023, producing the following six theories. 1. 1998 source is an outlier and should not be used as a source. Arguments for: There are a few constants across the other four sources that, by the inclusion of the 1998 source, are considered invalid. Mainly, all other SCP-8255 instances are motionless animals in the Midwest region of the United States of America, whereas the 1998 instance is a roaming blob in Nevada. The 1998 source also implies electronic interference, an attribute unique to that specific report. Arguments against: All sources have at least one unique characteristic. The 1998 instance isn't unique in its uniqueness. There is a gap between the 1998 source and the 2019 source, Perhaps by putting more focus on the time between those events, as well as the area between those two locations, we may find more sources for SCP-8255 reports. Agree: 12 Disagree: 25 Undecided: 10 2. SCP-8255 is connected to the Fithism religion Arguments for: SCP-8255's most identifiable trait is its five legs, being the only commonality across all of our sources. The 2021 event is even directly connected to fifthism. Arguments against: All sources include SCP-8255 having five limbs because that is the only attribute from the SCP-8255 Mr. Henshaw reported that has led us to find other events. While the recovered text messages are directly from fithist cultists, none of the other data recovered from fifthists we have in our databases make any mention of SCP-8255. Even the text messages show that the cultists were confused and had no prior understanding of SCP-8255. Agree: 1 Disagree: 44 Undecided: 3 3. SCP-8255 is a singular entity capable of shapeshifting. Arguments for: Five separate distinct entities should have more than one appearance each across almost thirty-five years. While still unlikely, it would make more sense if it was one single entity. Any oddities with the 1998 source could be chalked up to SCP-8255 being in an adolescent stage of its existence, maturing over time until it was sophisticated enough to break into one of our sites. Arguments against: The five sources we have now are likely only a fraction of reports made on SCP-8255, and those are likely only a fraction of all SCP-8255 events. More importantly, SCP-8255 being the work of a single entity capable of shapeshifting adds an additional layer of complexity to research for no gain as we would still be looking for animals with five legs. Agree: 4 Disagree: 13 Undecided: 30 4. SCP-8255 is only active at night. Arguments for: In three of the five sources, we know that the SCP-8255 event occurred during the night. The 2021 source doesn't specify what the time was during the event, only that the witness had woken up without the use of an alarm. It is possible that they had woken up early in the morning and SCP-8255 would have viewed it as still being night. In the 1998 source, the witness makes no attempt to call their neighbors for help when their phone fails, suggesting it may have been night during the event. Arguments against: After some discussion, no counterarguments were made during the meeting. Agree: 46 Disagree: 0 Undecided: 1 5. 2019 source is an outlier and should not be used as a source. Arguments for: SCP-8255's arrival is highly impractical. The witness did not see it on the way down meaning it's highly likely that it wasn't down there before they went down. If there really was a party on the main floor, navigating through the home, to the basement staircase, would be an incredibly difficult task, especially for a five-legged octopus. The color is also off. In all other sources, when a color is mentioned with SCP-8255, it is typically white or light red. In the 2019 source, however, SCP-8255 is described as a dark red. While the witness says that they were unharmed in the fall, they may be incorrect, intentionally or not. A possible head injury and the passage of time after the event casts doubt on this source as being reliable. Arguments against: We don't have a clear idea of what SCP-8255 is capable of. The intelligence of SCP-8255 is an unknown factor. Even if unlikely, SCP-8255 could have been in the basement beforehand or navigated through the party. Entering Site-29 is a far more improbable task and that's the most reliable source we have. The coloration of SCP-8255 in other sources already shows a range of white to light red, the 2019 source is more likely showing that that range instead should be all shades of red. A possible head injury impacting the reliability of the source can't be addressed until clearance is given for more invasive research of the sources and witnesses. Agree: 14 Disagree: 2 Undecided: 31 6. SCP-8255 is naturally outside and events showing it in buildings are not how it normally acts. Arguments for: SCP-8255 instances are animal-like in appearance in three of the collected sources. In the 1998 source, the witness credits the arrival of SCP-8255 to their open front door, meaning that it would have come from outside. It is possible that we would be able to find more sources if we focused on finding SCP-8255 events that occurred outdoors, such as hiking trips and camping. Arguments against: This runs under the assumption that SCP-8255 instances have animal-like intelligence and have accidentally encountered people. While this seems accurate with the first source, two of the other sources have it able to discretely enter someone's home and a third has SCP-8255 able to infiltrate Site-29. SCP-8255 instances may be more intelligent than we give them credit for. Perhaps SCP-8255 has certain types of buildings that SCP-8255 prefers, we could figure that out if we focused on finding sources including an indoor setting. Agree: 13 Disagree: 29 Undecided: 5 Update: Following the meeting, the search methods being used were updated according to the conclusions reached on the above theories. I/O-PLEASANT restarted shortly afterward with the updated search methods and is currently searching for more sources. As of now, no new sources have been found. Footnotes 1. Due to the special containment procedures preventing direct questioning of the witness, the exact date of this event is unknown. Observing other posts on the witness's profile had led researchers to believe that the witness is in their early twenties and from there had made a range of time the event may have occurred. |
SCP-8260 | neutralized | Around 20 years ago, my dad bought a Komputer Świat1 magazine, which included a CD. From that CD, he installed a video game called Warblade. I still remember, when I was around nine, I saw him playing the game for the first time before I joined in. Over half a year ago, I reminded myself of the game and we came back to it. Even now, during my third year of college, I played the game during classes. Who could have thought such a simple game would bring so much joy both to me and my dad? I love you, Dad! Drzony13 AUTHOR PAGE Item #: SCP-8260 Special Containment Procedures: A webcrawler has been created in order to search for mentions of Warblade MK II and flag them for review. Every mention of the contents of SCP-8260 or download link to the game needs to be taken down. Description: SCP-8260 is an early test version of the video game, Warblade MK II, made in unity engine by Edgar M. Vigdal. The author shared the version on his blog on EMV Software Website as a test of the game's performance on various hardware setups. Before it gained anomalous properties, the game would start with a low-quality main menu displaying a two-headed golden eagle. From there, the player could acces an unplayable level prototype and unusable level editor. However, since the object gained anomalous properties, the player is shown a message box on the black background after running the executable file. It is worth noting, that the test version does not have internet connection or remote access in any shape or form. The message box is shown below: Warning! Looks like your copy of the game is outdated! Would you like to update? Yes No, thanks! After clicking the "No, thanks!" button, the player goes to the test version, which does not have any changes. However, after clicking "Yes", the game gets drastically modified. It is worh noting, that despite drastic changes in the contents of SCP-8260, none of the files get altered. The game within SCP-8260 is a space shoot 'em up game, which is fundamentally the same, as Warblade. The main gameplay consists of shooting bug-like aliens on top of the screen from a spaceship on the bottom. There are various items and bonuses dropping from aliens after they get shot. There are exactly 100 levels in the game. Every twenty five levels, there is a boss battle against a giant spaceship. There can be seen a significant improvement in the graphics and music of the game. However, most new features announced during the development of Warblade MK II were not included in SCP-8260. There are minigames, which are the same, as in the original Warblade. The player enters them by picking up a bonus item. Those minigames are: Meteorstorm,2 Memory Station3 and Gem drop.4 Just like in the original Warblade, there is no possibility of saving the progress of the game, thus forcing the player to start a new game each time they turn it on. Addendum 8260-1: Edgar Magne Vigdal Edgar M. Vigdal was a Norwegian game developer and the founder of EMV Software.5 Vigdal was initially making shareware games for Commodore and Amiga before he moved to Microsoft Windows. His most notable work is Warblade, which gained him enough income to start making games full-time. In 2007 Edgar M. Vigdal announced the development of a sequel to Warblade, which was called Warblade II and later renamed to Warblade MK II. On August 16th, 2012, Vigdal published an early test version of Warblade MK II, which would later become SCP-8260. However, on April 1st, 2015, Edgar M. Vigdal passed away due to cancer, which was later announced by Simon Quincey6 on the EMV Software website. Due to that reason, Warblade MK II was discontinued. Shortly after Vigdal's death, EMV Software went out of business. The company website is still up, but doing any purchases from it is impossible. Download links for demo versions on the EMV Software website were hosted on www.warblade.as, which was taken down. However, demo versions of the games can still be downloaded by entering download links to internet archive websites.7 Addendum 8260-2: Discovery of the anomaly The anomaly was discovered in August 2025, when Dr. Andrew Fitzgerald ran an early test version of Warblade MK II, which he already had on his computer.8 After discovering SCP-8260, he quickly began his research. He found gameplay footages of SCP-8260 on Youtube, along with a small number of posts on forums and community pages focused on Warblade,9 regarding the contents of SCP-8260 with download links to the game. All of those were later taken down. Their uploaders and viewers were given class B amnestics, and copies of SCP-8260 were removed from their computers. The first important discovery happened, when Dr. Fitsgerald entered the EMV Software website and found out it was updated on April 1st, 2025. The new post from the main page is displayed below: WARBLADE MK II IS OUT!!!!! To everyone, who was waiting for the release of Warblade MK II throughout all those years, I have great news for you! Warblade MK II is finally out! Although I had some huge difficulties, I managed to get through it. Maybe I didn't manage to fullfill my full vision, but I am still happy with what I could pull off despite current conditions! Oh, by the way! To anyone, who downloaded an early test version I posted in 2012, I have even better news! All of you receive a FREE UPDATE! It was an incredible journey for me and I really hope the game will be worth all the wait you had to go through. If anyone reads this, I really hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for your patience and playing my games. It really means a lot to me and I've already learned not to take it for granted. ~Edgar Warblade MK II was added to the products page along with the demo. However, the download link for the demo is hosted on www.warblade.as and an attempt to purchase the game is impossible to complete due to inactivity of EMV Software. All former associates of EMV Software were contacted and none of them were aware of the update. An IP address responsible for the website update was tracked down and it turned out to be located in Edgar M. Vigdal's house, which is currently resided by his family. Specifically, the device responsible for the update was Vigdal's computer, which had not been booted since its owner's passing. The Foundation revised the house and examined the computer. However, no files associated with SCP-8260 were found. Residents of the house were given class B amnestics. The Foundation took down the update of EMV Software Website and reverted it to it's previous state. However, download links for an early test version of Warblade MK II were removed from Warblade MK II Blog. Addendum 8260-3: Notable differences between Warblade and SCP-8260: Main Menu SCP-8260 has no main menu. Instead, the game starts immediately after executing the file. EXTRA In Warblade, the player is able to collect 5 letters, which together form a word EXTRA. After collecting all of them, the player gets an extra life. However, in SCP-8260, the letters are replaced with PNZHF. Rank In Warblade, the player starts with an assigned rank: ENSIGN. There are six balls dropped from bigger enemies. After collecting all of them, the player's rank gets increased by one degree. However, in SCP-8260, the player already starts with the highest rank. Now, collecting all of the balls decreases the player's rank by one degree. When all six are collected on a rank ENSIGN, the game crashes. Lifes In SCP-8260, the game crashes after losing all lifes. Cutscenes SCP-8260 has cutscenes after start of the game and before each boss battle. All of them consist of white text on black screen. Levels In Warblade, each level starts with an introduction, shown as below: GET READY Level [NUMBER] [QUOTE] The formula in SCP-8260 is the same. However, the quotes in the introductions are worth noting. Addendum 8260-5: Below is a list of all cutscenes and level introductions: Once, there was a king. The king ruled his own planet. It wasn't the size of Jupiter, nor was it a huge empire. It was even smaller than Pluto. Its size was more comparable to an asteroid. The population was more of an average town on every other planet the king had been to. Around twenty to forty thousand citizens. However, the planet could never complain about poor living conditions. Every citizen could live in peace and prosperity. The intergalactic politics was perfect as well, so nobody ever had to fear any potential war. The citizens loved their king and the king loved his citizens. The king also had a good life. Not only he was happy as a king, but also a happy father. He lived a peaceful life with his wife and three sons. It wasn't a lot, but it was his and he was incredibly proud of what he had accomplished. He loved doing what he was doing and he did everything he could to improve the kingdom each and every day. GET READY Level 1 Hello! It's been a long time GET READY Level 2 How have you been? GET READY Level 3 Well, I've been pretty busy GET READY Level 4 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 5 Have you missed me? GET READY Level 6 What? GET READY Level 7 What do you mean "No"? GET READY Level 8 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 9 After all these yerars? GET READY Level 10 After all the waiting? GET READY Level 11 What? GET READY Level 12 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 13 You never waited? GET READY Level 14 You forgot? Completely? GET READY Level 15 Just like that? GET READY Level 16 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 17 You moved on? GET READY Level 18 It's really hard to believe GET READY Level 19 You know, what they say GET READY Level 20 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 21 They say you die twice GET READY Level 22 Once when you stop breathing GET READY Level 23 And second, when somebody mentions your name for the last time GET READY Level 24 BONUS LEVEL Suddenly, the king woke up in the middle of the night, shaking. He immediately sat up on his bed, clenching his fists on the blanket covering his legs. He was hyperventilating and looking around in panic and confusion while hearing a loud, piercing noise from the outside. He looked at his wife, who had also woken up. Then, his eyes turned to the window. He was barely awake, but a few seconds later he sobered up a bit and realized, what was making the noise. It was the only sound the king wished he would never have to hear in his life. His heart stopped for a second. It was an alarm siren. The king immediately got up and ran up to the window upon realizing, what was happening. He opened the curtains and looked out the window. His heart was pounding and his breath was unsteady, while he was looking around. However, everything looked normal. For now… His wife walked up to him. – Wh–What's going on? – I don't know yet… But I'm expecting the worst. He rushed out of the room when he stumbled upon his sons in the corridor. – Dad, what is that? – Listen, everything will be okay. Of course, he was lying. He had no idea, how things will turn. He just wanted to calm his boys down. He got dressed and ran to his office before the Minister of Defense barged in. He immediately provided all the information he had to the king. Of course, the planet was under attack. However, there was no military or space pirates. Instead, it was just one little spaceship. – Just one spaceship? – the king said. – That's it? Just shoot it! But that was the problem. They not only were trying, but they did not stop. The ship was not only perfectly dodging all the bullets, but also managed to wipe out tens of soldiers and it did not seem to stop any time soon. The king immediately declared martial law. The citizens were in panic, while the military kept fighting the mysterious spaceship. However, all the defense measures did not give any results. If the king could, he would go to the front lines himself and fight to his death to defend his home and legacy. However, the kingdom still needed someone to rule the planet. Especially in such difficult times. At some point, one of the king's sons decided to go and fight. He wanted to defend his home no matter what. Although the father did not like that idea, he respected his son's wish. The prince hopped onto a giant spaceship and flew towards the only target. GET READY Level 25 ** BIG TROUBLE ** GET READY Level 26 It's really weird GET READY Level 27 How easy it is GET READY Level 28 To just lose everything GET READY Level 29 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 30 Everything you are GET READY Level 31 Everything you could have been GET READY Level 32 All gone now GET READY Level 33 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 34 And all that took GET READY Level 35 Was one diagnosis GET READY Level 36 To shatter it all to pieces GET READY Level 37 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 38 They say to never give up GET READY Level 39 But what's the point GET READY Level 40 When you can die young GET READY Level 41 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 42 You don't know if it happens GET READY Level 43 But God forbid GET READY Level 44 If it does GET READY Level 45 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 46 Now all you ever did GET READY Level 47 Everything you accomplished GET READY Level 48 Is forever forgotten GET READY Level 49 BONUS LEVEL The funeral happened shortly after the prince's death. It was a big national tragedy perfectly capturing the horror of an ongoing war. Many people showed up, but after the funeral, the king was left alone. The only people who stayed were his wife and his two sons, who always were by his side. Saying, that the royal family was heartbroken would be an understatement. After a sleepless night, the king locked himself up in his office. He wouldn't let anyone in outside of the ministry of defense. He immediately launched an investigation against the mysterious spaceship. He wanted to know everything. Who controls the ship? Who sent them? What do they want? But none of those questions were answered. There were negotiation attempts with the spaceship, but nobody from inside ever responded. They just kept going. They killed our soldiers. They slaughtered civilians. Men, women, and children. They kept bombing our land. There was no sign of stopping. What is especially weird, that's the fact, that nobody occupied destroyed lands. Nobody pillaged homes and other buildings from valuable items. It was just that one spaceship shooting everything on its sight without doing anything else. After some time, the king's second son barged into his father's office without permission. – Dad, I want to fight. I want to avenge my brother's death. GET READY Level 50 ** BIG TROUBLE ** GET READY Level 51 You pirated it, didn't you? GET READY Level 52 Of course you did GET READY Level 53 How else would you play it? GET READY Level 54 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 55 Honestly, it's only a matter of time GET READY Level 56 Before even the pirate downloads GET READY Level 57 Fade away completely GET READY Level 58 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 59 Soon, no one will remember GET READY Level 60 No one will care GET READY Level 61 No one GET READY Level 62 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 63 Have you ever walked down the graveyard GET READY Level 64 And seen a tombstone GET READY Level 65 Marked as "Unknown Soldier?" GET READY Level 66 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 67 Have you ever feared GET READY Level 68 That some day you might be drafted GET READY Level 69 And end up in that exact grave? GET READY Level 70 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 71 Both deaths in one day. Forever forgotten GET READY Level 72 It might even feel like GET READY Level 73 You never even lived to begin with GET READY Level 74 BONUS LEVEL Second death, second funeral. However, this time there were much fewer people. That wasn't a shock to anyone. Deaths at the hands of a mysterious spaceship increased with each passing day. The planet was in such a state, that the king got desperate. He did something, that he wished he would never have to do. But he did not have a choice. The king signed general mobilization. The military started drafting civilians to fight the enemy. They needed as many people, as they possibly could. But one day, something ironic happened. Someone knocked at the royal family's door. It was the commission. The king's third son was drafted. GET READY Level 75 ** BIG TROUBLE ** GET READY Level 76 My rest in peace grandma always told me GET READY Level 77 You will be great! GET READY Level 78 You will do huge things! GET READY Level 79 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 80 You will go far GET READY Level 81 I know you will GET READY Level 82 You will be a big shot GET READY Level 83 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 84 I'm so glad she's not there GET READY Level 85 To see, what I have become GET READY Level 86 To see, how much I failed her GET READY Level 87 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 88 I always wished I could say GET READY Level 89 I have built a monument more lasting than bronze GET READY Level 90 Well too bad, now I'm here GET READY Level 91 BONUS LEVEL GET READY Level 92 The monument was from iron GET READY Level 93 And just a little rain was enough GET READY Level 94 Before a small spot of rust appeared GET READY Level 95 KAMIKAZE GET READY Level 96 The rust quickly took over GET READY Level 97 Nobody was around to prevent it from spreading GET READY Level 98 The whole thing turned reddish brown, until it crumbled down GET READY Level 99 BONUS LEVEL The sky is gray. There's not a single cloud. Instead, it's fully covered in smoke. No alarm sirens can be heard. No anything. The only sound, that can be heard is a soft breeze blowing through the ruins of something, that used to be streets full of life. It used to be colorful and bright, but now it is in greyish vomit. The king's hands are shaking as he finishes burying the fourth grave. There is nobody to help him out. There lies the king's wife. She died in a bombing, alone in her living room, while mourning the death of her third son. With nobody by her side. Her husband, the only one she had left, who should have been there for her, was locked up in his office. He kept monitoring the situation and giving orders to his military. But now? There is nothing to monitor. No orders to give. No military to control. No kingdom to rule. No legacy to maintain. The king clenches his teeth and his hands are shaking as he keeps staring at four graves. His wife, who he wanted to live a happy life with. His three sons, who he wanted to raise to be great people. Well, too bad! Now we're here! What's funny is, that the king knows one thing. The fact that his sons were from the royal family is the only reason their graves weren't marked as "Unknown Soldier". Only then, the king realizes the true nature of the ship. It didn't want to rob the kingdom. It didn't care about the land. It didn't want to occupy the kingdom or steal anything of value. It just wanted to destroy. It came here for nothing more, but pure destruction. The king starts punching the ruined wall of something, that used to be his house. He continued until his mind sobered up and only then he started to feel incredible pain in his hand. He calmed down. He looked at a huge stain of blood on the wall. Then, he looked at his hand. Of course, it was bleeding. He didn't care about dressing his wound. He had nothing to care about anymore. The king gave up. But not without a fight. GET READY Level 100 ** BIG TROUBLE ** This boss battle heavily differs from the rest and was considered worth noting. The battle starts with the player alone on the screen. After a few seconds, the boss flies in from above. Instead of a giant spaceship, the player sees a medium-sized ship resembling a golden eagle with a crown on its head. It is holding a wide shield below it, preventing the player from shooting it. There is no music in the background and the boss does not have a health bar. After the player tries to shoot the golden ship and realizes there is no use, the boss pursues its attack. The golden eagle floods the entire screen with bullets, making them impossible for the player to dodge. That continues and keeps killing the player over and over again. When the player has only one life left, the boss stops shooting. Instead, the golden eagle throws itself at the player. After the spaceships collide, they both explode and the game crashes. Thus, continuing the game to further levels is impossible.10 Addendum 8260-5: INCIDENT 8260-1 The incident occured after Foundation was done with all the procedures towards removing SCP-8260 from public eye and the object was contained. The computer with SCP-8260 suddenly booted up and started displaying white text on a black screen. It was in the same formula as the cutscenes in the game. The text is shown below: Once, there was a healthy man. He spent his lifetime making video games. It wasn't a lot, but it was his. He loved doing, what he was doing. Somehow, he managed to make some big-selling shareware games. He enjoyed reading all the positive reviews. He appreciated support from his family and friends. After he made Warblade, he knew he was ready. He had big dreams. He had huge ambitions. He wanted to create his biggest work. His magnum opus. Something, that would make everyone know his name. Something, that had the potential to create a huge community. He wanted to bring joy to as many people as possible. So, he started working. He worked hard. After starting a crowdfunding campaign, he earned far more, than what he asked for. He never expected this many people would be there to support him. To make sure his dream comes true. To bring to life all of the ideas, that stayed in his head for so many years. He started programming. He hired a graphic designer and a musician to make sure the game's quality was as high as possible. He couldn't wait to see all the awaiting players to finally be able to enjoy his game. Something he worked hard on all those years. But then? Something came in. Now, everything he was. Everything he could have been. It's all gone now. And all that took was one diagnosis. Yesterday, he thought he was immortal. But now, the doctor brings his family in. He doesn't have much time left. However, he did not give up. He knew he couldn't wait, because if he did, all of it would crumble. He started working even harder. He wanted to do as much as possible in as little time he had. He was racing with the grim reaper himself. The man was so close to finishing his work, but the death was faster. First, the man lost his father. Then, he lost his own life. Now all of his ideas are taken to his grave. The crowdfunding was for nothing. Eight years of hard work was for nothing. His work became the second Silmarillion, but there was no one to finish it. Even if someone tried, it would not be the same. They will never have the same hand as the man, who worked on it. They will never know, what he wanted to make. All the ideas he had are now deleted by the death of his brain. He could at least make a few bucks for his family after his death if only his own company did not go out of business. Now not only they can not rely on him anymore, but also no one can access any of his works. There are pirate downloads, but how little there are. His biggest work is left unfinished, while all his already finished works are forever doomed to obscurity. Now, very few people barely even remember his name. The man couldn't stand that. He could not let the world fuck him over. He wanted to kill God with his bare hands. He could not let it go. He did not want to die the second time yet. He did not want to be forgotten. So he dug himself up from the grave and finished, what he started. However, the very moment he did that, no one was there to play it. There were very few people who did. It already brought a smile to his face knowing he brought some joy to at least one person. But then they came in. They deleted every update from the webstie. They removed all the copies of the game. Now everyone, who played it, doesn't even remember playing it. They made sure the man would not be able to put his work out there. They shut him down for good. The man tried to finally give out his last breath, but was immediately choked before he could even do that. The worst in all of that is, that he could never go out on his own terms. After that, the computer blew up, thus destroying the only documented copy of SCP-8260. The anomaly was marked as Neutralized. Footnotes 1. A polish magazine about computers and video games. 2. The player needs to dodge falling meteors. 3. A simple memory game of picking pairs. 4. The player is supposed to collect falling gems. 5. A game development company and publisher of his games. 6. Vigdal's friend and co-producer of his games. 7. All captures of the download link to SCP-8260 were taken down. 8. Dr. Fitsgerald was a fan of Warblade since early 2000's and downloaded an early test version of Warblade MK II around 2014. 9. Which currently post only download links to pirated copies of Warblade. 10. Unlike the original Warblade, where the game loops after level 100. |
SCP-8280 | keter | An animal species from a nearby parallel universe enters baseline reality after the two universes nearly collide. Kong, Shing, Gong Hub / From 120's Archives Hub » SCP-8280 Item #: SCP-8280 Threat Level: Yellow ● Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8280 instances are to be kept in an enclosure at the park near Site-120 hidden out of the public's view behind several locked doors. Should any individual without clearance manage to reach SCP-8280's enclosure, they are to be administered amnestics. Should SCP-8280 instances attempt to escape, they are to be tranquilized by on-site staff and placed back into their enclosure. Pre-built dwellings are to be placed within the enclosure and all food/water/enrichment items are to be easily accessible to minimize the amount of terrakinesis that SCP-8280 instances will do. Containment Procedures have been updated, see Addendum 5 An instance of SCP-8280 in the wild. Description: SCP-8280 refers to a species that visually resembles an ankylosaurus (A. magniventris) but is only distantly genetically related. SCP-8280 instances naturally emit non-lethal amounts of ionizing radiation and can absorb this radiation to perform terrakinesis.1 SCP-8280 instances primarily use this ability to reinforce their armor or weapons2 or for creating shelter. As SCP-8280 instances absorb greater amounts of radiation, their terrakinesis will become stronger and more intricate.3 SCP-8280 instances are generally docile as long as they are left alone but will retaliate violently when threatened. SCP-8280 instances are native to the Right Phase (see Addendum 2 for more details). During the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event4 in the Right Phase, between 50 and 100 ankylosaurus eggs were anomalously preserved. The SCP Foundation of the Right Phase found and contained them, but after their collapse the large amount of ionizing radiation in the environment caused them to hatch with their current anomalous abilities. Over the next 4000 years, SCP-8280 solidified its presence in its local ecosystem in the Right Phase. Addendum 1 SCP-8280 instances were first spotted in grassland by a forest in southern Poland in 1970 by a Foundation researcher who was driving by the area. She then drove to the nearby Site-120 to enlist the help of a Mobile Task Force squad to contain the anomaly. The following is a transcription of the initial containment of four SCP-8280 instances. Date: June 15th, 1970 Assigned Team: MTF Epsilon-6 ("Village Idiots") Subject: SCP-8280 instances Team Members: Agent Day, Agent Rousseau, Agent Smoke [BEGIN LOG] MTF Epsilon-6 is standing on the edge of a forest. In the distance, several SCP-8280 instances are standing in a field. Two juvenile SCP-8280 instances are playing. Day: Alright guys, keep your distance and shoot them with the tranquilizers. Let's get them out of here before anyone sees. Smoke: Roger that. Let's move. MTF Epsilon-6 begins slowly approaching the pack of SCP-8280 instances. Agent Rousseau fires at Agent Day's signal at one of the mature SCP-8280 instances. It stumbles for a few seconds before collapsing. Another mature instance approaches it and, after the instance doesn't respond, becomes visibly enranged. Day: Ah, shit, we made it angry. Let's hurry this up, guys. The SCP-8280 instance cranes its neck forward, causing soil to rise from the ground and encapsulate its head forming a rudimentary helmet. Agent Day fires a tranquilizer dart at the instance which bounces off the helmet harmlessly. Agent Day jumps out of the way as the SCP-8280 instance charges. Smoke: Aim for the sides! It's got armor now! Agent Smoke aims at the SCP-8280 instance and screams in pain as the SCP-8280 hits his hand with its tail club. Agent Day backs up a few feet. Day: Rousseau! Distract it! Rousseau: You better have a plan! Agent Rousseau moves closer to the SCP-8280 instance while waving his arms. The SCP-8280 huffs and stomps its feet before launching five baseball-sized dirt balls at him, facing away from Agent Day. The front half of the entity is covered in makeshift dirt armor. Agent Day aims at the SCP-8280 instance. The instance looks at Agent Day and stomps its feet, causing a dirt wall between it and her to emerge from the ground. Day: Ah, damn it! Agent Day attempts to move around the wall but each time she does a new wall emerges from the ground. Within a minute there's a circular barrier separating Agents Day and Smoke from Agent Rousseau and the SCP-8280 instances. Agent Smoke begins attempting to patch his injuries. Day: Rousseau! Get out of there! Agent Rousseau climbs over the wall and jumps down, being caught by Agent Day. He quickly gets to his feet. Day: Okay… so my plan didn't work. Rousseau: Really? I couldn't tell. Day: Ah hush. Anyway, seems like it's trapped itself in. Makes our job eas— The dirt wall in front of Agents Day and Rousseau explodes, sending large dirt balls flying toward the agents. Seconds later, the SCP-8280 instance charges out. The two agents jump out of the way and run away to get some distance between them and the SCP-8280 instance. Day: Okay, I've got another plan. Rousseau: Let's hear it. Day: Jump on it. Rousseau: …Excuse me? Day: You heard me. If you jump on it, it'll be distracted and I can get behind it and shoot it. Rousseau: You know it has spikes, right? Day: Do you have a plan? Rousseau: Well, no. But still, I feel like we should weigh our options— watch out! Agent Rousseau looks behind him and ducks as the SCP-8280 launches several dirt balls at him. Day: We're running out of time here! Are you in or not? Rousseau: …Fine. Agent Rousseau runs at the SCP-8280 instance and jumps onto its back. He winces in pain but holds on. The SCP-8280 tries to hit him with its tail club but fails, turning away from Agent Day. Agent Day steadies her breath, aims at the SCP-8280 instance, and fires. The shot connects causing the SCP-8280 to stumble for a few seconds before collapsing, its makeshift armor collapsing with it. Day: Smoke! Are you okay? Smoke: Yeah, I'll be fine. Could you help me patch up my hand, though? Day: Yeah, hold on. Rousseau: I'm good too, thanks for asking. Agent Day detaches a first aid kit from her belt and goes to help Agent Smoke. Agent Rousseau walks over to the two juvenile SCP-8280 instances who have set up a miniature box that they've hidden in. He peers in. Rousseau: Huh, they're kinda cute. [END LOG] The remaining SCP-8280 instances were contained along with two other packs that were found nearby. All instances were moved into an enclosure in a park near Site-120. Addendum 2 In 1974, during the initial drafting of the Two Phases Agreement,5 Esteemed Scholar Mea Scarlet of the Zhujihui was informed of SCP-8280. He expressed significant interest in the anomaly and requested to be taken to view it. After the Two Phases Agreement was finalized, he was granted his request. The following is a transcript of a conversation he had with an SCP-8280 caretaker following his arrival. Date: May 15th, 1974 Subject: SCP-8280 Involved Personnel: Esteemed Scholar Mea Scarlet, Leo Ferenz6 [BEGIN LOG] Mea Scarlet and Leo Ferenz are standing next to the SCP-8280 enclosure. A juvenile instance struggles to reach a leaf and raises the ground beneath it to reach the leaf. Scarlet: So it's true then. When you told me I very nearly couldn't believe it without seeing it for myself. Ferenz: What do you mean? Scarlet: (points at an SCP-8280 instance) These creatures, they come from the Right Phase.7 When did you first discover them? Ferenz: Uhhh… a few years back. 1970, I believe. Scarlet: That's around when our phases were approaching each other. It's our fault then, that these creatures are here. We caused the phases to approach one another.8 Ferenz: Hey, don't worry about it, man. I love the little guys. Leo Ferenz whistles and waves around some lettuce. The SCP-8280 instances notice and approach him. Ferenz: They're great company, even if I feel a little tingly if I spend too much time with them. Besides, didn't you guys fix that?9 Scarlet: Yes, I suppose you're right. I hope that your Foundation can help us improve our ways; we are but a poor imitation of the Foundation of the Gods.10 Mea Scarlet clears his throat. Scarlet: I'd like to apologize for the tangent. Anyway, these creatures must have slipped through when the phases were close. They're native to the Republic of Proy Bria,11 the west of the country, I believe. I've never been, but I have seen their exhibit in a zoo. Scarlet: It's truly a wonder how they're surviving, if not thriving, in this environment. There's neither divine energy12 nor any plants they normally eat. Ferenz: They sure do love lettuce though. They can't get enough of the stuff. Say, speaking of divine energy, you wouldn't happen to have miniature versions of that amulet13 of yours to give to them, would you? The less they mess up their enclosure, the happier I'll be. Scarlet: No, I'm afraid I don't. And even if I did, it would be irresponsible of me to share them with you for that purpose. I can already tell their power is greatly diminished without any divine energy in the air. Get rid of what little they have, and you very well might kill them. Ferenz: Really? I didn't realize. How strong are they normally? Scarlet: I haven't had the pleasure of witnessing their full power myself, the ones at the zoo were trained to behave, but I've heard fantastical tales. In Proy Bria, these creatures reshape the land at will, creating vast underground tunnels. Although. they prefer to stay close to the surface as that's where the food is. However, I've heard whispers of a plant species that has a symbiotic relationship with them, allowing them to survive deep underground. Ferenz: Wow, and I thought little Muffin here was a piece of work. I wish I could see that. Scarlet: Perhaps one day, sir from the magical civilization of the Left Phase. Well, I must get going now, I thank you for having me and I hope I was of assistance. Ferenz: Oh yeah, you helped plenty. Say, could you have your people send us everything they have on these guys? I'd love to learn more. Scarlet: Yes, I will see what I can do. Mea Scarlet turns and walks towards the exit. At the first locked door, he turns around and looks at the SCP-8280 instances. Scarlet: This phase is a truly marvelous place. Mea Scarlet leaves. [END LOG] Upon Mea Scarlet's return to the Right Phase, the Zhujihui sent over physical documentation about SCP-8280 as their documentation system was not yet connected to the Foundation database. Once the two systems were connected, the Zhujihui sent over more extensive documentation along with several videos showcasing the feats that Mea Scarlet described. Addendum 3 The following is a collection of Incident Logs involving SCP-8280. Date: September 10th, 1972 A juvenile SCP-8280 instance is playing within the SCP-8280 enclosure. It appears to be practicing its terrakinesis as it moves dirt around randomly and into random shapes. Aleks Oleś14 walks into the enclosure. Oleś: (whistles) Dinner! Come and get it! The juvenile instance turns around, knocking over one of its creations, and runs over to Aleks Oleś. Oleś: Here you go, buddy. Oh? Oleś sees the knocked-over dirt creation and walks over to it, picking it up. It resembles a miniature house. Oleś: Aw, did you make this for me? The SCP-8280 instance looks up at Oleś. Oleś: (chuckles) Yeah, you did. Note: Alkes Oleś decided to keep the dirt house and placed it in his locker. Date: July 16th, 1974 Foreword: Mea Scarlet had gifted the SCP-8280 Containment Team some seeds for a plant from SCP-8280's native habitat, hereafter referred to as SCP-8280-1. The seeds were planted and SCP-8280-1 was harvested when it was fully grown. Aleks Oleś walks into the SCP-8280 enclosure. He whistles and waves around some harvested SCP-8280-1. The older instances become excited at the sight and hurriedly run over. Oleś: Alright guys, the Zhujihui guy gave us some food you're supposed to like. Who wants some first? One of the SCP-8280 instances raises the ground beneath it and eats the SCP-8280-1 instance. The SCP-8280 instance looks visibly reinvigorated and turns around, walking towards the SCP-8280 beds. Oleś: Huh, I thought there'd be a bit more of a reacti— The SCP-8280 instance stomps its feet, creating a large tunnel in front of the SCP-8280 beds. The SCP-8280 instance walks in, quickly followed by Aleks Oleś. The SCP-8280 instance is seen constructing several different rooms in the tunnel, presumably for each SCP-8280 to sleep in. After it makes 4 rooms, the SCP-8280 becomes visibly tired and goes into one of the rooms to sleep, Oleś: Oh, I really hope this is stable. Note: Keep growing SCP-8280-1 just in case we need it one day, but please, for the love of god, don't randomly feed it to them. ~ Oleś Date: March 7th, 1978 Aleks Oleś and Leo Ferenz are sitting in the SCP-8280 enclosure break room. Ferenz: … Just stop already, dude. No sense arguing when you're so wrong. Oleś: The hell do you mean, I'm wrong? There are more doors, hands down. You ever heard of a skyscraper? Ferenz: Just toy cars alone make it more wheels than doors, let alone everything else. Hell, your chair has wheels! Oleś: (looks down) Huh, guess it does. Regardless, you're wrong, and I'm ri— A large dirt ball flies through a nearby window, scaring the two caretakers. Aleks Oleś gets up and looks out the window. In the distance, two SCP-8280 instances are playing a rudimentary form of baseball. Oleś: (sighs) Right. Come on, let's fix this window. Note: Aleks Oleś and Leo Ferenz replaced every window in the facility with a stronger, more durable material following this incident. Addendum 4 The following is a transcription of several CCTV recordings from throughout the SCP-8280 enclosure. Date: March 5th, 1986 Subject: SCP-8280 Involved Personnel: Leo Ferenz, Aleks Oleś [BEGIN LOG] Aleks Olés is sitting in the SCP-8280 enclosure, petting an SCP-8280 instance. Olés: Who's a good boy? You are! A mouse runs into the SCP-8280 enclosure, scaring the instance. It panics and raises a large volume of dirt as it runs away, causing a large branch to fall off of a tree in the enclosure. Aleks Olés stands still for a few moments staring at the fallen branch. Olés: (sigh) Okay then. Aleks Olés walks out of the enclosure and into the SCP-8280 enclosure locker room. He opens his locker and retrieves a packet of papers. He stops for a moment to look at a small dirt house, picking it up. He smiles and places it back in his locker. He leaves the locker room and walks towards the break room. WIthin the SCP-8280 enclosure break room, Leo Ferenz is sitting down while watching TV. Ferenz: Hey. Oleś: Hey. Oleś: Y'know, I've been thinking. Ferenz: About? Oleś: Now, I know this job has had its ups and downs, arguably more downs than ups, but that comparatively this job is much safer compared to being around some other skips, and— Ferenz: Yeah, yeah, yeah, just get on with it. Ferenz points at the TV. Ferenz: They're getting to the good part. Oleś: Right, right, my bad. What I'm saying is that we've been maintaining this corner of this park for nearly two decades now and for what? Nobody's gonna see this place. Hell, we even have a paved path outside the enclosure. Ferenz: Yeah, that's working at the Foundation for you. Oleś: But what if it didn't have to be? I mean, we're rebuilding Esterberg, aren't we? Why can't we give them 8280 and like, put them in a zoo or something? This place essentially is a zoo exhibit anyway. Ferenz stares at Olés for a few seconds before he turns off the TV, sighs, and stands up. Ferenz: That's not gonna happen. Oleś: But why not? I mean, it'll save us some money and it might help boost public relations after we trashed the place. Ferenz: Because, we contain stuff, we don't just give stuff away. Oleś: (hands Leo Ferenz a packet) I ran the numbers, it's cheaper for us to give 8280 to Esterberg and build their exhibit than it is for us to continue to maintain containment. Plus, I don't know how much longer I can fix the landscaping in the enclosure before my body just gives out. Leo Ferenz takes a moment to flip through the packet. He frowns and takes out a calculator. After a few minutes, he hands the packet back to Aleks Oleś. Ferenz: You might be onto something here. I'm going to make a call. [END LOG] Following this conversation, Leo Ferenz made a call to the Site-120 Director Council proposing Aleks Oleś' idea. In a unanimous decision, they approved Oleś' proposal and made preparations to transfer SCP-8280 to Esterberg. Addendum 5 The following is a digital recreation of the SCP-8280 informational sign at the Esterberg Zoo. Alludrun15 Fictusdinosaurum exallismundi Special thanks to the SCP Foundation for donating their Alludrun to us! Zoo Population: 17 Diet: Leaves, fruit, vegetables Habitat: Temperate grassland and forests, native to the Republic of Proy Bria, Right Phase. Weight: 4,800 kg to 8,000 kg Longevity: 60 years in the Right Phase, 20 years in the Left Phase About: Averaging around 6,000 kg, the Alludrun is a force to be reckoned with. These graceful creatures resemble ancient dinosaurs but don't be fooled, they're actually not even from here! The Alludrun is native to the Right Phase (look below this sign for a handy pamphlet explaining the Right Phase) and because of this, they emit a small amount of radiation, but not enough to hurt anyone. Alludrun are capable of performing terrakinesis, look closely and you might see the young ones using it while they play. It's not very strong here, but in the Right Phase, they use it to make grand tunnels underground. One of our Alludrun, Johnny! Efforts are ongoing to reclassify SCP-8280 as Argus.16 More From This Author More From This Author MasterTman2's Works SCPs Tales/GoI Formats The Hubris of the Broken (+15) • The Standstill (+19) • Other MasterTman2's Menagerie (+13) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8280" by MasterTman2, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8280. 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: Ankylozaur (Ankylosaurus) - JuraPark Baltow (1).JPG Author: Alina Zienowicz License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: 5832772416_c2fe2ca808_o.jpg Author: sporst License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Footnotes 1. The manipulation of geologic materials such as minerals, dirt, and rocks. 2. Such as increasing the size of their tail club or making their teeth larger and sharper. 3. For example, they can move greater amounts of earth at once and can add finer details such as spikes. 4. The extinction event of all non-avian dinosaurs. 5. A treaty between the Foundation and GoI-1997 "The Zhujihui". 6. One of the SCP-8280 caretakers. 7. The Right Phase, also known as SCP-CN-1997, is a universe parallel to baseline reality accessible through Hong Shing, or SCP-CN-1997-1, and is the home of the Zhujihui. 8. The Left Phase, or baseline reality, and the Right Phase began moving towards one another after the Zhujihui destroyed the Holy City of Gears, the holy city of the Right Phase's equivalent of the Church of the Broken God. 9. The Zhujihui stopped the collision by creating a pocket universe between the two phases known as Hong Shing. 10. Before the rise of the Zhujihui in the Right Phase, there existed a version of the SCP Foundation. The Right Phase's inhabitants revere them as gods. 11. Its territory roughly corresponds to the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth's borders in 1619. 12. Natives of the Right Phase utilize "divine energy", or ionizing radiation, to survive and do thaumaturgy. 13. Mea Scarlet was wearing a divine-energy-blocking amulet. 14. One of the SCP-8280 caretakers. 15. Right Phase name for SCP-8280. 16. An Argus class object's containment is under the purview of a third party. |
SCP-8282 | esoteric-class | "You have a secret cave with magic minerals in the walls, and you're using that as a shipping warehouse?" /* 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. 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; } } close Info X SCP-8282: You Are Now Entering by OliverMemphis Welcome to the jungle. Also the cave, and the library, and the magic city, and Antarctica. More by this author Item#: SCP-8282 Level4 Secondary Class: argus Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: warning link to memo A forest in Romania, viewed through a gateway created by SCP-8282 using the "Future" card. Optical distortions are typical of Ways originating from this procedure. Special Containment Procedures: The Research Liaison Team is to maintain a list of specific interaction protocols for each of SCP-8282-1 through -18. This list is to be informed by diplomatic communications with the relevant local authority (where one exists), mediated with the help of PoI-8282 (Jemima Ellbridge)..Containment of Argus-class objects is partially or wholly under the purview of a third party. A similar list is to be prepared for SCP-8282-19 through -44, with the expectation that they will become accessible in the near future. If and when PoI-128 (Richard Sterling) is captured, SCP-8282 is to be downgraded to Safe-class. Description: SCP-8282 is a thaumaturgic ritual used to open Ways to specific, pre-determined destinations (collectively SCP-8282-#). Recovered documentation describes SCP-8282-# instances as "locations of magical significance", although their actual nature varies dramatically; some are well-documented Nexuses and Free Ports, while others are extradimensional spaces accessible exclusively through SCP-8282, and others still are locations on Earth with no clear significance or notability at all. No pattern between these has yet been determined. SCP-8282-A and -B are components of this ritual. SCP-8282-A is a deck of custom playing cards numbering 44 (though only 18 of these are currently in the Foundation's possession). Many of the cards borrow features and elements from conventional tarot and other divinatory items, but neither the deck as a whole nor its illustration style correspond to any other cartomantic or ludocentric deck known to exist. Each SCP-8282-# instance corresponds to exactly one card in SCP-8282-A. SCP-8282-B is plimyrite, a dark grey, clay-like substance with a number of notable thaumaturgic properties, including its usage in SCP-8282. Specifically, the ritual requires a large surface constructed entirely of SCP-8282-B, upon which a gateway roughly the size of a typical door will ultimately be formed. The Foundation currently possesses roughly 500kg of SCP-8282-B, all of which was seized in 1995 from an anomalous mining operation in south Wales. (It was later lost in a classified materials mishandling incident at Site-128 precipitated by then-Director Richard Sterling, and was only recovered in 2016 after said facility became defunct.) Details of selected SCP-8282-# instances may be found in Addendum 2. Addendum 1, Discovery: In January 2018, Site-91.A facility in Yorkshire, England specialising in thaumaturgical research. Director Iona Varga received the following email from an anonymous external address: To: Dir. Iona Varga From: b7c1df94430eff766e3f92233c881a11 Subject: You take it Left something for you in a desk drawer at 128 reception. Instructions included. You can deal with this better than me. Site-128 logo, as of 2018. It was assumed that this email referred to Site-128, a small Foundation facility in southwest England which had been shut down in 2016, and now remained as an abandoned building devoid of equipment or documents. A team of agents was dispatched to the facility, and discovered inside the reception desk a copy of SCP-8282-A (containing only 18 cards) and an instruction manual for SCP-8282. These items were subsequently transported to Site-91 for further study. Addendum 2, Investigation: Drs. Lewis Flood and Kai Lassila were selected as the research leads for this item; both had previously been employed at Site-128, and the former was a qualified thaumaturge who had originally been the lead researcher on SCP-8282-B. Dr. Flood was permitted to perform SCP-8282 with a random card.No order in the cards was readily apparent; Dr. Flood proposed that the ritual might work more effectively with a randomly-selected card than an intentionally chosen one. and enter the corresponding location accompanied by an MTF escort, for a period not exceeding ten minutes. He subsequently produced the following summary report: Expedition 1: SCP-8282-1 Date: 2018-01-14 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Memory; illustration depicts a labyrinth of concentric circles, containing multiple strings of text in various unidentified scripts. Description: A large, circular, atrium-like library with bookshelves lining almost all available wall space. A mezzanine level encircles the entire room and is accessible via staircase. Entire space shows signs of abandonment and decay; dust and broken tiles cover the floor, and the domed glass roof is caked with grime, severely limiting the amount of sunlight entering the room. Cursory inspection of books reveals exclusively blank pages; further inspection may be warranted. No sapient life is present, but the centre of the room features a life-size statue of a deer. The next two tests found places similarly devoid of human life; the fourth, however, produced markedly different results: Expedition 4: SCP-8282-4 Date: 2018-01-15 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Sanctuary; illustration depicts a figure resting underground next to a fire, while a storm rages above. Description: A sequence of large caves. The walls are stratified, consisting predominantly of beige, white and grey stone. See attached transcript for more information. [Dr. Lassila and two MTF agents enter the gateway created by SCP-8282. Dr. Flood remains in the lab as operation control.] Dr. Lassila: Control, I'm in a cavern. About the size of a small theatre, I'd say. Dr. Flood: Do you have enough light? Dr. Lassila: Lighting's fine, there's about six or seven industrial lamps mounted on the walls. Not sure what's powering them, I can't hear a generator or anything… it looks like the cables just connect straight to the stone. Maybe it's drawing power from the rocks somehow? Can't tell from here. There's other things installed on the ceiling as well. Might be for ventilation, but again I'm not sure. Dr. Flood: Anything else of note? Dr. Lassila: Nothing in this room, but there seems to be a passageway into another cave here. Dr. Flood: Proceed, with caution. [Footsteps on recording.] Dr. Lassila: This room seems to be some kind of warehouse? There's just rows of shelves everywhere, and I'd say… maybe half of them are covered in boxes. Labels are scribbled on with marker, no pattern that I can make out. Dr. Flood: Would you say there are signs of recent activity in this place? Dr. Lassila: Probably? It definitely doesn't look abandoned, the same way the last ones were. Seems to be a desk here for managing inventory, so if I had to guess I'd say this is some kind of active logistics operation. [Footsteps on recording.] Dr. Lassila: OK, I'm going to change that 'probably' to a 'definitely'. I've just moved onto the next room, and there's another gateway here. Looks a lot like the one I just came through. Dr. Flood: Anything else in this room? Dr. Lassila: Just more tunnels to other caves. And… hold on. Dr. Flood: What? Dr. Lassila: Could you be quiet just a second, please? [Ambience on recording.] Dr. Lassila: OK, I don't know if the mic picked that up, but I think I can hear a piano? Very echoey, but I think it's coming from the cavern to my left. I'm going to… no, wait. It just stopped. Permission to— [A loud siren begins to blare, drowning out Dr. Lassila's speech.] Dr. Flood: Report. Report! [After fifteen seconds, an unidentified individual enters the room via one of the tunnels, and presses a button on a remote control device to silence the alarm.] [unidentified]: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? Dr. Lassila: Never mind. Control, there's an unknown individual in here. Female, estimated late 20s… [unidentified]: …and extremely pissed off with you. How the hell did you get in here? Dr. Lassila: Could I have your name, please? [unidentified]: No, you may not, you fucking… [sighs] OK, sorry, hold on. Did you come in through that? [The individual points at the gateway immediately next to Dr. Lassila.] Dr. Lassila: Why do you ask? [unidentified]: Because this is not your place. This is my place, and if it's insecure, I need to know. So: did you come in through that door, or a different door? Dr. Lassila: I need your name, please, before we do anything else. [unidentified]: Would you mind phrasing that in a way that doesn't make it sound like you're from the forest of identity theft? Dr. Lassila: …do you think that's where I'm from? [unidentified]: No, but I've met people who are, and I don't trust them either. Dr. Lassila: [sighs] My name is Kai Lassila. What's yours? [unidentified]: Jemima Ellbridge. That door, or not? Dr. Lassila: Different door. Ellbridge: Show me, please. Dr. Lassila: I don't think I can do that. Ellbridge: Oh, for God's sake. Is it somewhere in one of these caves? Please give me any information at all to work with. Dr. Lassila: I'm the one asking the questions here. Ellbridge: No, you are not. Because from my perspective, you've just broken into my house, again. You are not the one who gets to demand answers right now. Dr. Lassila: What do you mean, 'again'? Ellbridge: After Three fucking Portlands, is what I mean. Dr. Lassila: I haven't been to Three Portlands. Ellbridge: You… No, you haven't, have you? Foundation's not allowed in there. Wait, what the hell did you do, then? Dr. Lassila: How do you know we're Foundation? Ellbridge: You have a labcoat, a radio, and a paramilitary escort. Don't insult my intelligence, thank you. Tell me about the door you came through. Does it look like this one? [Ellbridge gestures at the gateway.] Dr. Lassila: I can't disc— Ellbridge: Mr. Lassila. Dr. Lassila: Doctor. Ellbridge: Doctor Lassila. Kindly explain to me why I'm supposed to trust someone who's currently an intruder on my property. Dr. Lassila: You said we're breaking into your house again, yes? Ellbridge: Yes. Dr. Lassila: No, not again. We weren't involved the first time. Ellbridge: Do you know who was? Dr. Lassila: No, but we might be able to find out. If you help us. [Silence on recording.] Ellbridge: This conversation doesn't end without me explaining stuff, does it? Dr. Lassila: Probably not, no. Ellbridge: …fine. But it doesn't end without you explaining stuff either. We clear? Dr. Lassila: Why are we trusting you? Ellbridge: Because if I had the power to do anything meaningful to you, I would have kicked you out of here already. We can take the fact that I haven't as a relationship of mutual understanding. Dr. Lassila: Alright. Did you make your gateway using a special card? Ellbridge: Yes. Did you? Dr. Lassila: Not me personally, but yes, we did. Ellbridge: Where did it come from? Dr. Lassila: The cards? Ellbridge: Ah, cards plural? Interesting. Yes, where did they come from? Dr. Lassila: Why do you ask? Ellbridge: Because I have — or had, until recently — the only copy of those cards anywhere in existence. I'm having to remake them all from scratch right now, because some fucking bastard stole them all last week. And if I ever find out who, I'm going to bash their head against that bit of clay there and see what gets dented worse. So: where did they come from? Dr. Lassila: Just to check, it was eighteen cards, yes? Ellbridge: It was forty-four. Dr. Lassila: Oh. We got given eighteen. Ellbridge: Got given them by who? Dr. Lassila: Anonymous. Someone emailed us from a burner account to say "we've left them at this location, here's some instructions for the ritual, you deal with them please". Beyond that, we know as much as you do. Ellbridge: Alright. Fine. I believe you, I think. I'm guessing you're doing recon missions for all the cards? Dr. Lassila: We're intending to. We've only done three others so far. Ellbridge: Any of them have people in? Dr. Lassila: No, not yet. Ellbridge: Right. Word of advice: some of them do, and some of those people are going to be even less happy about your presence than I am. Dr. Lassila: We'll keep that in mind. Ellbridge: You could also let me finish. I'm willing to help you guys, help make sure you don't cause any diplomatic incidents with those cards, if you help me find who stole the rest of them. You'll make no effort to detain me, or invade my home again. First and final offer. Dr. Lassila: I… will need to consult with some people about that. Ellbridge: Fine. Meet me back here in 24 hours, and don't touch shit in the meantime. Deal? Dr. Lassila: [over radio] Lewis? Dr. Flood: Fine by me. Dr. Lassila: Alright. 24 hours. Ellbridge: Great. Now fuck off, please. An investigation found no evidence of any significant affiliation between Ellbridge and any Groups of Interest, hostile or otherwise; her offer was therefore accepted, and she was brought on as a consultant to help document SCP-8282. Expeditions resumed the following day, under Ellbridge's guidance. Expedition 6: SCP-8282-6 Date: 2018-01-16 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Bazaar; illustration depicts a bustling marketplace with three prominent towers in the background. Description: A basement in the city of Three Portlands, one of the largest anomalous enclaves in the world. As Foundation activity in Free Ports such as this one is severely restricted, Dr. Flood entered the Way wearing plain clothes, accompanied only by consulting thaumaturge Jemima Ellbridge rather than an MTF escort. Ellbridge: Welcome to 3Ports. Dr. Flood: Mind if we go outside to confirm? Ellbridge: Sure. Door's over here. [Footsteps on recording.] Dr. Flood: Is this your house? Ellbridge: Think so, yeah. If it's not, then no-one's noticed. Dr. Flood: What does that mean? Ellbridge: My dad owned this place, before he passed. The will didn't mention it anywhere, so I'm not sure it's technically mine… but he died two years ago, so if he'd given it to anyone else, I think I'd know by now. Dr. Flood: Sorry to hear that. Was he a thaumaturge as well? Ellbridge: Yeah, he was the one who made the cards. Some of them, at least, and I made a bunch more after he taught me. He made lots of little magical trinkets and what-have-you, then he'd sell them in places like this. Setting up all these Ways was a pain, but it's quicker than taking the normal entrance. Dr. Flood: You said he sold the stuff he made. Did he ever sell any copies of the cards? Ellbridge: Not that he ever told me, and I don't think he'd have any reason to. Mainly because almost no-one else can actually do the ritual, because no-one has an entire wall's worth of magic clay. Dr. Flood: Oh, yeah, I was going to ask about that. Does that stuff have a proper name? Because 'plimyrite' we came up with in-house. Ellbridge: No idea, to be honest. I probably should have a name for it, 'cause half the cave's made of it. Why 'plimyrite'? Dr. Flood: [inaudible] Ellbridge: What was that? Dr. Flood: Doesn't matter. Ellbridge: No, go on. Dr. Flood: It's from the Greek for 'flood', apparently. Ellbridge: Of course it is. Dr. Flood: Look, I didn't pick it, alright? I don't even love it as a name, honestly. Ellbridge: Bet you signed off on it, though. Dr. Flood: The rest of that story's very long, and I don't think you're cleared for it. [Approx. five minutes of extraneous audio removed for brevity.] Ellbridge: For the record, I was in here when the cards got stolen. Dr. Flood: What do you mean? Ellbridge: I came through 3Ports for… some stuff, then I went back to that house to find the gateway had disappeared. I think someone must have broken into the building, walked through into my actual house in Somerset where I do the rituals, stolen the cards, and then let themselves out. I changed the locks after that. Dr. Flood: Noted. Do you come here a lot? Ellbridge: I come through here a lot, yeah. Don't stay to visit all that often. Dr. Flood: Meaning? Ellbridge: Meaning the walk from that house to the American exits are a hell of a lot quicker and cheaper than a trans-Atlantic flight. Dr. Flood: You're in America pretty often, then? Ellbridge: Oh yeah, definitely. Dr. Flood: How come? What do you do? Ellbridge: Just… stuff. Dr. Flood: Come on. I told you the plimyrite thing, you can tell me this. Ellbridge: …deliveries. Dr. Flood: Deliveries. Ellbridge: Yes. Dr. Flood: Delivering what? Stuff you can't send via a normal courier? Ellbridge: Sometimes. Dr. Flood: Meaning stuff they won't let through customs. Right? Ellbridge: No comment. Dr. Flood: You've got a unique access route to one of the most important locations in the anomalous world, and you're using it to smuggle stuff across international borders? Ellbridge: Still no comment. Dr. Flood: You have a secret cave with magic minerals in the walls, and you're using that as a shipping warehouse? Ellbridge: At least I'm using it. You people just lock stuff in boxes for all eternity. Dr. Flood: OK, I'm going to stop this conversation before someone gets fired. Expedition 9: SCP-8282-9 Date: 2018-01-17 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Future; card is solid black save for the title text. Description: An uninhabited area in Antarctica. Ellbridge claims that this card's destination is in fact a random point on the Earth's land surface, 'rerolled' each time the ritual is performed. Expedition 12: SCP-8282-9 Date: 2018-01-17 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Future; repeated tests were conducted with this card, in order to verify Ellbridge's claims and study the distribution of the selected destinations. Description: A forest in the State of Bahia, Brazil. See attached transcript for additional information. Dr. Lassila: How many more of these tests do we want to do? I'm just worried about the risk of this door showing up in a populated area. Dr. Flood: I'm happy to make this the last one. I think there's a forest on the other side right now, so at least we don't have to worry about this one being populated. Dr. Lassila: Right. Whenever you're ready. [Dr. Flood, Ellbridge, and two members of MTF Rho-18 enter the gateway. Dr. Lassila and the other three agents remain in the lab.] Dr. Flood: All clear. Yeah, this is definitely a forest. It's not totally uninhabited, though, we are near a path… so probably want to make this quick just in case anyone shows up. Dr. Lassila: Noted. You got a GPS reading? Dr. Flood: Yep, this says we're in Brazil. Latitude thirteen point one four two— [Radio contact is abruptly lost. Security footage from the lab at this time shows the gateway shimmering, and the destination behind it visibly changes.] Dr. Lassila: Lewis? You there? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Lassila: Dr. Flood, please report. [Silence on recording.] Dr. Lassila: This is Dr. Kai Lassila to Dr. Lewis Flood, do you read me? Rho-3: Sir? The door. Dr. Lassila: Oh, fuck. Uh, that's not the forest any more. Rho-4: The view through the gateway's very distorted, but I would say that looks like a desert. Dr. Lassila: Which is not a forest. You guys have a spare GPS tracker, right? Rho-3: Yes. Dr. Lassila: Great. Go through there right now. Report coordinates immediately. Rho-3: Copy. [Rho-3, -4 and -5 enter the gateway.] Rho-3: This is indeed a desert, Control. Latitude 16.24843 north, longitude 15.60191 w— Rho-4: There's another gateway! About twenty metres from ours. Rho-5: And there's a person walking around. Who is that? Rho-3: Permission to engage, Control? Dr. Lassila: Granted. Rho-3: Hey! Identify yourself! Rho-5: He's running to the door! Move! [Running footsteps on recording.] Rho-4: And… he's gone. He went through his gateway and then it disappeared behind him. Just vanished. Dr. Lassila: Right, get back here, now. I don't think this thing is stable. Rho-3: Copy. [All three agents return to Site-91 through the remaining gateway.] After losing contact with Control, the agents accompanying Dr. Flood and Ellbridge activated an emergency distress beacon; all four individuals were subsequently rescued by personnel from Site-34. In their debriefing at Site-91, Dr. Flood and Ellbridge reported that the gateway had suddenly vanished behind them without explanation. They described some of the theories they had discussed as to the cause of the disappearance, including: The card used in the SCP-8282 ritual was damaged or defective in some way; The SCP-8282 ritual had been conducted improperly; The SCP-8282 ritual had somehow been conducted a second time after they had entered the gateway, triggering a 'reroll' of its random destination. Dr. Lassila's observations appeared to confirm the last of these theories. The individual spotted by Rho-5 was presumed to possess his own copy of the Future card and was attempting to use it at the same time as the researchers; furthermore, it was supposed that the two cards were entangled, such that performing the SCP-8282 ritual with one would instantly randomise the destination of both to the same location. Ellbridge: That doesn't make any sense. Dr. Lassila: Why not? Ellbridge: How would there be another copy of the card? There's only one, and we have it. Dr. Lassila: I don't think that can be true. The agents saw that guy come through his own gateway. Ellbridge: How? Dr. Flood: I think we need to entertain the idea that your dad gave someone else a copy of the deck, early on. That early copy is what we picked up from Site-128, which is why it's incomplete. The guy who stole your copy — which presumably is the same guy who showed up in the desert — still has the full deck. Ellbridge: How would we confirm that? Dr. Flood: You said your dad made some of the cards, and you made the rest? Right? Ellbridge: Yes. Dr. Flood: Did you make any of the cards that we currently have? Ellbridge: Let me see them. [Dr. Lassila hands Ellbridge the deck, which she quickly looks through.] Ellbridge: Nope. These are all old ones. [Silence on recording.] Ellbridge: Oh. Dr. Flood: Yeah. Ellbridge: OK, so this guy… we can't just keep calling him 'this guy'. Do you have a number for him or something? Dr. Lassila: No, we probably should. Ellbridge: PoI-8282? Dr. Lassila: PoI-8282 is you, Jem. Ellbridge: Oh. 8283? I don't know how your numbering system works. Dr. Lassila: Not like that. Dr. Flood: We can find some other relevant number, right? Ellbridge: You said you found these cards at Site-128? What about PoI-128? Dr. Flood: That number's not free, is it? Dr. Lassila: No, PoI-128 is Richard Sterling. Ellbridge: Who, sorry? Dr. Lassila: Doesn't matter. Ellbridge: No, no, I know that name. Dr. Lassila: You know that name? How? Ellbridge: Oh, God, I think he was one of Dad's friends? He knew quite a lot of folks in the anomalous community, sometimes he'd have them round to talk shop. Why? How come he's on your radar? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Flood: Oh, for fuck's sake. Ellbridge: What? Dr. Flood: Is that what he was fucking doing? Ellbridge: Is what what he was doing? When? Dr. Lassila: I have to go and make a call. And then I have to… probably go update a whole bunch of document classifications very quickly. Meeting dismissed. FOUNDATION PERSONNEL FILE (ABRIDGED) Dr. Sterling in 2004. Richard Sterling Position: N/A Security Clearance Level: N/A Status: Unknown Dr. Sterling was the Director of Site-128 in Somerset, England from its founding in 1989 until his presumed death under mysterious circumstances in 2004. He is currently under a long-running internal affairs investigation surrounding: The precise nature of his death/disappearance; The possibility that he was, for a large portion of his career, an unregistered thaumaturge; His general management of Site-128, marked by an abnormal degree of chaos in its administrative affairs; His relation to an esoteric materials mishandling incident in 1995 involving the disappearance of several hundred kilograms of plimyrite, which led to the erroneous reassignment of his then-deputy, Dr. Lewis Flood, to a junior research position at Site-333 in New Jersey; His relation, if any, to the catastrophic attack on Site-128 in 2016 that led to the facility's closure. For additional information on this investigation, contact Drs. Oliver Memphis or Kai Lassila of the Research Liaison Team. Ellbridge: You're joking. Dr. Lassila: Nope. I don't have permission to show you the full report on this guy, but let's just say it's very long. And fairly chaotic. And I think extremely funny, right up until the part where it causes multiple deaths. Dr. Flood: I thought it was funny up until the part where I got demoted to a shithole Site for twenty years. Ellbridge: Yeah, what's with that part? What's it mean by 'erroneous reassignment'? Dr. Flood: Is she cleared for that? Dr. Lassila: That part specifically, yes. It's relevant to her expertise. Dr. Flood: Right. We seized half a ton of plimyrite from some Welsh mine. Or rather, I did — I was in charge of the stuff. Which meant that when it vanished from the Site two weeks later, it looked like it was my fault. Ellbridge: Was it your fault? Dr. Flood: No, it was Sterling's fault. He hid it in some random storage room on-Site. And nobody realised, because after working at 128 for long enough, you got trained not to ask awkward questions like "why is this stationery cupboard Director's access only?" Ellbridge: Jesus Christ. And you think this guy got given the old cards? Dr. Lassila: I think he got given the old cards and stole your new ones. Ellbridge: Why do you think that? Dr. Lassila: Because I'm looking at his file photo, and I reckon if you added 14 years to it, you'd get the guy on that bodycam footage from the desert. Ellbridge: Is that the best evidence you've got? Dr. Lassila: We also have some fairly scattered reports from various intelligence sources suggesting that he's been hiding in Three Portlands for the last couple years, where we can't get him… which would at least line up with what you said about the theft. Ellbridge: Why, though? What's the point? Dr. Flood: Maybe he knew about your deal? Maybe he knew some of your deal, broke into your house in 3Ports, recognised the cards as a more complete version of his own set, and decided to steal them then and there? Ellbridge: But again, why? If he's fine in 3Ports, why try and mess stuff up even more? Dr. Flood: Unless he doesn't think he's fine. Dr. Lassila: Very possible. Those same scattered reports suggest that he's essentially a paranoid asshole at this point. He's been stuck in the same small, isolated city for at least the last year and a half, he doesn't talk to a lot of people, and he's constantly afraid that someone's out to get him. Ellbridge: I thought you were out to get him. Dr. Lassila: A lot of people are, to be fair. Apparently he's pissed off half the city one way or another. Screams at people, refuses to pay them for stuff, sometimes runs active scams, and generally acts like a lunatic in public. For what it's worth, though, I don't think we should waste time trying to fathom his motivations. Whatever he's trying to achieve, it probably doesn't make a lot of difference to us. Ellbridge: OK, so… I get how he has my new deck. Why do we have his old one? Dr. Flood: Maybe one of the people he upset stole it from him? That would go full circle quite nicely. Dr. Lassila: Oh, God, I think you're right. Dr. Flood: You think so? Dr. Lassila: That anonymous email we got. "You can deal with this better than me." What do we want to bet that "this" isn't referring to the cards? Dr. Flood: Someone gave us Richard Sterling's old copy of the deck so we would capture him? We're not unpaid contract police. Dr. Lassila: Yeah, I know. That's why I've had my head in my hands for the last twenty seconds. Ellbridge: Well, what are you concerned about? Dr. Lassila: I don't like that someone else is effectively trying to get us to do their bidding. I think the higher-ups won't be amused by that. Ellbridge: Do you want to get hold of the rest of the cards? Dr. Lassila: Well, yes. Ellbridge: Do you want to get hold of the guy who's been repeatedly fucking up your shit since the late 80s? Dr. Flood: Yes. Ellbridge: OK, so you're not doing someone else's bidding. You're doing your own bidding, which happens to align with what someone else wants. Dr. Lassila: I take your point. I'm still not sure how much we can meaningfully do, though. Ellbridge: How come? Dr. Lassila: Presumably what Sterling is doing is just hiding in various different Free Ports for as long as possible. Which is a very good strategy for him, because the Foundation can't conduct official business in any of those places. Ellbridge: I can. Dr. Lassila: Not on our behalf. Ellbridge: I can do stuff on my behalf. Then it just happens to align with what you want. Nice how things work out, isn't it? Dr. Lassila: OK, but with all due respect, what are you going to do? You can't just capture a guy, and you don't have the resources of an international paramilitary. Do you have the resources of an international paramilitary? Ellbridge: No, but I have the diplomatic connections of one. I know someone who lives or works in every location in this deck — all the ones that have people in them, at least — and those people talk to other people, and to each other. If Richard Sterling's managed to piss off half the Portlands just by living there, I reckon I can get him blacklisted from every Free Port in the world. Dr. Flood: Interesting. Should we write up a project proposal? Ellbridge: No. Dr. Lassila: No, because then it becomes Foundation business, and then both of us… Ellbridge: …are fucked? Dr. Lassila: I was going to phrase it more tactfully, but yes. The official explanation on record needs to be that we anticipate the situation will resolve itself in due time, and we are simply waiting for Dr. Sterling to be forced out of hiding. We can monitor the situation, but anything else that happens is the result of independent actions taken by unrelated parties. Everyone clear on that? Further information on this situation will be added when available. NOTICE FROM THE RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION The following updates to this file are provisionally classified pending review. By continuing, you confirm that you are in possession of Level 5/8282 clearance. -Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Over the next several weeks, Foundation intelligence sources (including Ellbridge) confirmed that Dr. Sterling had attempted to access numerous Free Ports, and had either fled or been forcibly removed from each. This culminated in the following communication, received by the O5 Council on 10 February 2018 and subsequently forwarded to Dr. Lassila: Foundation, An individual identifying as "Richard Sterling" recently entered the Wanderers' Library, seeking asylum from forces unspecified. This message is to inform you that we have ejected him from the premises, owing to: his known status as a senior agent of your organisation; his usage of an unsanctioned and insecure Way as a means of ingress; his general disrespectful behaviour and profane language. We have closed the gateway through which Mr. Sterling entered, and have returned him to your custody. You are invited to take this message as a reminder that we are not, as a general rule, open to your personnel — especially those engaging in conduct such as his. Regards, The Eighth Archivist Dr. Flood: Jesus Christ. Ellbridge: I didn't even talk to the Library. If he managed to get himself kicked out of there, that's fully on him. Dr. Flood: Has he been returned to our custody? Dr. Lassila: O5's put all Sites on alert, but no response so far. Ellbridge: Why do they think he still works for you, if he disappeared 14 years ago? Dr. Lassila: I'm willing to bet they didn't get the memo. 128 was one of the smallest Sites we ran, and no-one else in the Foundation ever gave a shit about it. It may be that no-one outside the Foundation cares either. I'm sure the Library has better things to do than update their records of that hellhole. Ellbridge: In that case, do they think 128's still operating? Dr. Flood: Oh, God, that's where they've sent him, isn't it? Dr. Lassila: Yep. We'll send a team. Dr. Flood: Wait, how long ago did we get that message? Dr. Lassila: About an hour. Ellbridge: So he might not still be there. Dr. Flood: Might have booked a train to Portland. It's only an hour or two from there, right? Dr. Lassila: Oh, I bet he has. Jem, can you go through into 3Ports and wait at the UK entrance? Ellbridge: I can, but you might want to send a team to wait at the other side, 'cause they might just not let him in the door any more. Dr. Lassila: Alright, I can send half of Rho-18 there, and the other half to scout around 128. Expedition 26: SCP-8282-6 Date: 2018-02-10 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Bazaar Description: See Expedition 6 above. Notes: Dr. Flood and Ellbridge entered Three Portlands and proceeded to monitor the exit leading to Portland, UK for roughly two hours. After neither they nor the team of agents monitoring the city's exterior saw any sign of Dr. Sterling, the two instead forced entry into his residence within Three Portlands; neither Dr. Sterling, his copy of SCP-8282-A, or any gateway produced by SCP-8282 were visible. Ellbridge: He's definitely not there. Dr. Lassila: But he still has the cards? Ellbridge: Seems so. Dr. Lassila: Which means he's probably going to try and do the ritual again. And to do that, you need a giant chunk of plimyrite. So… where else is there plimyrite? Ellbridge: Well, my house. That's pretty close to 128, I think. Dr. Lassila: I'll send the task force there. Ellbridge: No, I can get there quicker through the cave. Expedition 27: SCP-8282-4 Date: 2018-02-10 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Sanctuary Description: See Expedition 4 above. Notes: Dr. Flood, Ellbridge and two agents entered the cave, and proceeded through the existing gateway into the latter's personal residence. No sign of Dr. Sterling, or any forced entry of any kind, was visible. However, Ellbridge noted abnormal phenomena in the cave itself during their return; see attached transcript for more information. Dr. Flood: He's not there, Control. No sign of— Ellbridge: Shut up. Dr. Flood: What? Ellbridge: Sh-shh. [Faint knocking sounds, once every few seconds, are audible.] Ellbridge: [whispering] What is that? Dr. Flood: [whispering] I thought it was just cave noises. Ellbridge: Not this cave. That doesn't happen. Dr. Flood: Is someone else in here? Ellbridge: That doesn't make sense. They should have set off the alarms, like Kai did last time. Dr. Flood: Should we check anyway? [Approx. five minutes of extraneous audio removed. Dr. Flood, Ellbridge and the agents split up to explore the cave, finding it empty.] Dr. Flood: Nothing? Ellbridge: Nothing, but I think it's loudest in that direction. In the piano room. Dr. Flood: Why do you have a piano in here? Ellbridge: I like playing with the reverb, it sounds cool. But the knocking's definitely coming from that way. Dr. Flood: It's from outside, maybe? Ellbridge: I didn't think there was an outside. I thought this was a pocket world that you could only get to using those cards. Dr. Flood: If there's no outside, why haven't we suffocated? Because that one door into your house should not be enough to ventilate a cave of this size. Where do those things in the ceiling go? And also, where's the plimyrite from? Ellbridge: What? Dr. Flood: If the plimyrite's from here, and you need it to do the ritual that gets you in here, where did it come from originally? Ellbridge: I don't know. Dr. Flood: I do, 'cause I found it. Control, I have a suggestion. Dr. Lassila: Yes? Dr. Flood: Aflendid. Dr. Lassila: What about it? Ellbridge: Where the hell's that? Dr. Flood: Aflendid. Village in south Wales, used to be a mining town. It kind of has a history of anomalous geology, and it's where we first found this stuff. Ellbridge: So? Dr. Flood: When did your dad start making these cards? Ellbridge: I dunno, early-mid '90s? I was a little kid. Dr. Flood: Oh, thanks. But the mid '90s was when we found the mine. We thought we exhausted it, there wasn't any more plimyrite, but… I guess your dad got hold of some. Probably moved a bunch into 3Ports at some point, if that's where Sterling's been operating from recently. Meanwhile, the clay that we pulled out of Aflendid is the stuff that's now at Site-91. That is where it all comes from, and if there's more of it here, that might mean we're directly under the town. And I think that knocking is Sterling, on the surface, trying to dig out enough plimyrite to use as a door. [Silence on recording.] Dr. Lassila: That's an insane theory, but in the absence of a better one, I move we adopt it. Dr. Flood and three members of MTF Rho-18 were dispatched to the village of Aflendid, and eventually discovered Dr. Sterling in a disused mining tunnel adjacent to the town, attempting to dig his way through to the seam of plimyrite using only a single shovel. Dr. Flood: Hello, Richard. [Dr. Sterling turns to face Dr. Flood. He appears startled, panicked, and noticeably short of breath.] Dr. Sterling: Who are you? Dr. Flood: Your memory going? Or was it just not worth remembering the guy you sent to New fucking Jersey for two decades? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Flood: Lewis Flood. I would say it's a pleasure, but… you know. Catharsis might be a better word. [Dr. Sterling pauses, and then lunges at Dr. Flood with his shovel. He retreats after the agents raise their guns.] Dr. Flood: Oh, for God's sake, Richard. You ran a Site for fifteen years. You know damn well that one old guy is not going to win a fight against a Foundation field team. Put the shovel down, and come with us. Dr. Sterling: I'm a citizen of Three Portlands. You can't arrest me without causing a diplomatic incident. Dr. Flood: Why didn't you go there, then? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Flood: Oh. You did. You just got there before we did, and they told you to piss off. Right? Dr. Sterling: How the hell are you getting any of this? Dr. Flood: I don't know if you noticed, Richard, but people don't like you. I don't like you. Three Portlands doesn't like you. The woman you stole those cards from certainly doesn't like you — and we're going to need those back, by the way. Even the Library sent us a courtesy note to tell us they'd got rid of you. Dr. Sterling: You're lying. Dr. Flood: I'm lying, am I? The guy who stole half a ton of magic clay and made that my fault, the guy who literally faked his own death, is telling me I'm lying? Great. That's good to hear. [Dr. Sterling places the shovel on the ground, and pulls his copy of SCP-8282-A from his pocket. He appears to inspect it for a moment, then suddenly turns around to face the partially-exposed plimyrite and hurriedly performs SCP-8282.] Dr. Flood: Get him! [The MTF agents advance as a gateway forms in the clay, dust cascading as the remaining rocks around the opening fall away. The Way appears to waver slightly as he jumps through, as though unstable.] Rho-3: Where's he going? [As soon as Dr. Sterling enters the Way, he is tackled to the ground by a waiting Jemima Ellbridge. He drops the cards as he collapses, and they scatter through the air. Ellbridge waves her free hand, and all 44 cards begin flying around the room in spirals before forming a neat stack in her palm. She steps back and looks at Dr. Sterling, who attempts to get up but is restrained by the agents before he can flee.] Ellbridge: He's in 3Ports. Hello! Dr. Sterling: No, no, no, no, no… Ellbridge: Yeah, sorry. Were you always this predictable? Or just lost your touch? [Dr. Flood enters the gateway.] Dr. Flood: Sorry, how did you do that? With the… [Dr. Flood waves his hand around in imitation.] Ellbridge: When I said I was a cartomancer, I meant it quite broadly. Dr. Sterling: [groans] Hang on, are you Tom Ellbridge's kid? Ellbridge: Yep. Dr. Sterling: You're working with the fucking Foundation? Dr. Flood: Yes, she is. Why weren't you? Dr. Sterling: I worked for the Foundation for 25 years! Dr. Flood: No, you didn't. You built an entire Site on a bundle of lies. Who were you actually working for? Dr. Sterling: I wasn't working for anyone. Get the fuck away from me. Dr. Flood: Richard. Ellbridge: That's probably true, to be fair. Dr. Flood: What do you mean? Ellbridge: When I was asking around last week, I found out some really interesting things. Do you know what he's actually been doing for the last decade and a half? Mostly, he's just been running a bunch of different scams. Selling magic items that aren't, charging extortionate rates for useless consulting advice, that sort of thing. Basically, it's what I would be doing if I actively hated everyone else in the world. Dr. Flood: We were vaguely aware. We just never figured out why, what agenda he was trying to advance. Ellbridge: Why would he be doing that? You've presupposed he's secretly working for the Hand, or the Insurgency, or… how many of these bloody groups are there? Dr. Flood: Too many. Ellbridge: But they all have their ideology. They all care about how the anomalous world should be run. He doesn't care about that shit. I've met a dozen grifters just like him — and the thing about them is, grifters don't need ideology, except as something they can peddle to everyone else. He's scamming on his own behalf. He's not working for anyone except himself. Dr. Flood: Interesting. Is that a fair assessment, Richard? [Silence on recording. Dr. Sterling is unresponsive.] Dr. Flood: Richard? You there? Ellbridge: I could be wrong, but I think he's currently speedrunning the five stages of grief. Give him a minute to get out of depression. Dr. Flood: No, I'm happy to make it last longer, actually. Hey, Richard, you want to know something interesting? You know how we never gave that material an actual name? Since, you know, you disappeared it before I even had a chance to write up its file? Dr. Sterling: It's called thaumic clay, you idiot. Dr. Flood: Eh, bad name. Won't catch on. Anyway, we picked a better one a few years ago. [Dr. Sterling sighs in exhaustion.] Dr. Sterling: Let me guess. SCP-dash-bunch of numbers? Dr. Flood: Well, yes, that's its formal designation. Nobody calls it that, though. We call it plimyrite. Dr. Sterling: Plimyrite? Dr. Flood: From the Greek plimmyra. Meaning 'flood'. [Dr. Flood grins insincerely at Dr. Sterling, and gestures to the agents to lead him through the gateway to Site-91. The agents comply; Dr. Sterling does not struggle, seemingly lacking the energy. Ellbridge holds up her new copy of the Bazaar card, and shakes it until the gateway to Aflendid vanishes.] Interrogation of Dr. Sterling is ongoing, but has so far revealed the working theories of Ms. Ellbridge, Dr. Flood and Dr. Lassila to be largely accurate. His older copy of SCP-8282-A had been given to him as a gift by one Thomas Ellbridge in the mid-1990s, and was stolen by parties unknown shortly after he himself stole Jemima Ellbridge's more expansive 44-card deck. Further queries surrounding this investigation should be directed to the Research Liaison Team. Addendum 3, Subsequent Observations: Subsequent to Dr. Sterling's capture, a debriefing was conducted at Site-91. Ellbridge: So what happens now? Our deal only went as far as getting the full set of cards back. Dr. Lassila: Yeah, and I think you know that we can't just give them back to you. Not without me getting chewed out by everyone in my chain of command. Dr. Flood: I can confirm that losing valuable anomalies isn't popular with the management. Ellbridge: What would you use them for, though? [Silence on recording.] Ellbridge: I'm genuinely asking. Because half of these cards go to abandoned places that I don't think would be much use to you, and most of the others go to Free Ports, which you guys aren't even allowed into. Not on official business, anyway. Dr. Flood: I've seen your report on where the rest of the cards go. There's not no use cases there. We could… I don't know, get from here to Sloth's Pit very quickly. Ellbridge: I can make you a copy of that card, if you want. I could make you a copy of the whole deck, if you gave me a couple months. Dr. Lassila: And leave the other copy to you, so you can keep on running maybe-illegal deliveries? How am I going to justify that to Director Varga? Ellbridge: [shrugs] The Foundation's job is to maintain the Veil, right? Dr. Lassila: Yes. Ellbridge: Am I threatening the Veil? Dr. Lassila: …not obviously. Ellbridge: Was I threatening it before, back when I had the full deck? Dr. Lassila: …not that I'm aware of. Ellbridge: No. And if I had, you'd know, and you wouldn't be working with me. You'd have vetoed my offer on day one. I don't want to take down the Veil, frankly. I like being the only one with a magic cave, as you've well noticed. And I also like being allowed in the Portlands. Dr. Flood: Yeah, what's the status on that? Do they know you're working with us? Ellbridge: Probably not. But even if they did, my consulting relationship wih you right now — officially speaking — consists of me making sure you don't storm into a Free Port guns blazing and fuck up everything in a mile's radius. I think even someone who doesn't like the Foundation would agree that's probably a good thing. Dr. Lassila: Well, we'll take your proposal under advisement. It's still going to be a tricky proposal to write up, you understand, and we've all had a stressful few weeks. So… give me a couple days, and I'll try and figure something out. Ellbridge: If you just need to de-stress, well… I guess that is another use case of the cards. Dr. Flood: What do you mean? Ellbridge: I know a place. Expedition 28: SCP-8282-19 Date: 2018-02-11 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Light; illustration depicts an idyllic coastal area with a lighthouse. Description: An idyllic coastal area with a lighthouse. Notes: Dr. Lassila, Dr. Flood and Ms. Ellbridge all entered the location together, and remained there for approximately one hour. No audio log is included, as it consists of extraneous and irrelevant material. Ellbridge subsequently agreed to continue her consulting relationship with Site-91. She will produce a full copy of SCP-8282-A for research purposes and will advise on the usage thereof, in exchange for the return of the original deck to her and minimal interference in her affairs. A full manifest of all SCP-8282-# locations is available upon request from Dr. Lewis Flood, Senior Researcher at Site-91. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8282" by OliverMemphis, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8282. 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. 128d.png by OliverMemphis, based on template-site.svg by HarryBlank, from Foundation Facilities License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Forest.png Source: Sunlit forest by Dejan Hudoletnjak, from Flickr (edited by OliverMemphis) License: CC BY 2.0 Sterling.jpg Source: Middle-aged dad by Martin Thomas, from Flickr License: CC BY 2.0 |
SCP-8282 | euclid | "You have a secret cave with magic minerals in the walls, and you're using that as a shipping warehouse?" /* 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. 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; } } close Info X SCP-8282: You Are Now Entering by OliverMemphis Welcome to the jungle. Also the cave, and the library, and the magic city, and Antarctica. More by this author Item#: SCP-8282 Level4 Secondary Class: argus Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: warning link to memo A forest in Romania, viewed through a gateway created by SCP-8282 using the "Future" card. Optical distortions are typical of Ways originating from this procedure. Special Containment Procedures: The Research Liaison Team is to maintain a list of specific interaction protocols for each of SCP-8282-1 through -18. This list is to be informed by diplomatic communications with the relevant local authority (where one exists), mediated with the help of PoI-8282 (Jemima Ellbridge)..Containment of Argus-class objects is partially or wholly under the purview of a third party. A similar list is to be prepared for SCP-8282-19 through -44, with the expectation that they will become accessible in the near future. If and when PoI-128 (Richard Sterling) is captured, SCP-8282 is to be downgraded to Safe-class. Description: SCP-8282 is a thaumaturgic ritual used to open Ways to specific, pre-determined destinations (collectively SCP-8282-#). Recovered documentation describes SCP-8282-# instances as "locations of magical significance", although their actual nature varies dramatically; some are well-documented Nexuses and Free Ports, while others are extradimensional spaces accessible exclusively through SCP-8282, and others still are locations on Earth with no clear significance or notability at all. No pattern between these has yet been determined. SCP-8282-A and -B are components of this ritual. SCP-8282-A is a deck of custom playing cards numbering 44 (though only 18 of these are currently in the Foundation's possession). Many of the cards borrow features and elements from conventional tarot and other divinatory items, but neither the deck as a whole nor its illustration style correspond to any other cartomantic or ludocentric deck known to exist. Each SCP-8282-# instance corresponds to exactly one card in SCP-8282-A. SCP-8282-B is plimyrite, a dark grey, clay-like substance with a number of notable thaumaturgic properties, including its usage in SCP-8282. Specifically, the ritual requires a large surface constructed entirely of SCP-8282-B, upon which a gateway roughly the size of a typical door will ultimately be formed. The Foundation currently possesses roughly 500kg of SCP-8282-B, all of which was seized in 1995 from an anomalous mining operation in south Wales. (It was later lost in a classified materials mishandling incident at Site-128 precipitated by then-Director Richard Sterling, and was only recovered in 2016 after said facility became defunct.) Details of selected SCP-8282-# instances may be found in Addendum 2. Addendum 1, Discovery: In January 2018, Site-91.A facility in Yorkshire, England specialising in thaumaturgical research. Director Iona Varga received the following email from an anonymous external address: To: Dir. Iona Varga From: b7c1df94430eff766e3f92233c881a11 Subject: You take it Left something for you in a desk drawer at 128 reception. Instructions included. You can deal with this better than me. Site-128 logo, as of 2018. It was assumed that this email referred to Site-128, a small Foundation facility in southwest England which had been shut down in 2016, and now remained as an abandoned building devoid of equipment or documents. A team of agents was dispatched to the facility, and discovered inside the reception desk a copy of SCP-8282-A (containing only 18 cards) and an instruction manual for SCP-8282. These items were subsequently transported to Site-91 for further study. Addendum 2, Investigation: Drs. Lewis Flood and Kai Lassila were selected as the research leads for this item; both had previously been employed at Site-128, and the former was a qualified thaumaturge who had originally been the lead researcher on SCP-8282-B. Dr. Flood was permitted to perform SCP-8282 with a random card.No order in the cards was readily apparent; Dr. Flood proposed that the ritual might work more effectively with a randomly-selected card than an intentionally chosen one. and enter the corresponding location accompanied by an MTF escort, for a period not exceeding ten minutes. He subsequently produced the following summary report: Expedition 1: SCP-8282-1 Date: 2018-01-14 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Memory; illustration depicts a labyrinth of concentric circles, containing multiple strings of text in various unidentified scripts. Description: A large, circular, atrium-like library with bookshelves lining almost all available wall space. A mezzanine level encircles the entire room and is accessible via staircase. Entire space shows signs of abandonment and decay; dust and broken tiles cover the floor, and the domed glass roof is caked with grime, severely limiting the amount of sunlight entering the room. Cursory inspection of books reveals exclusively blank pages; further inspection may be warranted. No sapient life is present, but the centre of the room features a life-size statue of a deer. The next two tests found places similarly devoid of human life; the fourth, however, produced markedly different results: Expedition 4: SCP-8282-4 Date: 2018-01-15 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Sanctuary; illustration depicts a figure resting underground next to a fire, while a storm rages above. Description: A sequence of large caves. The walls are stratified, consisting predominantly of beige, white and grey stone. See attached transcript for more information. [Dr. Lassila and two MTF agents enter the gateway created by SCP-8282. Dr. Flood remains in the lab as operation control.] Dr. Lassila: Control, I'm in a cavern. About the size of a small theatre, I'd say. Dr. Flood: Do you have enough light? Dr. Lassila: Lighting's fine, there's about six or seven industrial lamps mounted on the walls. Not sure what's powering them, I can't hear a generator or anything… it looks like the cables just connect straight to the stone. Maybe it's drawing power from the rocks somehow? Can't tell from here. There's other things installed on the ceiling as well. Might be for ventilation, but again I'm not sure. Dr. Flood: Anything else of note? Dr. Lassila: Nothing in this room, but there seems to be a passageway into another cave here. Dr. Flood: Proceed, with caution. [Footsteps on recording.] Dr. Lassila: This room seems to be some kind of warehouse? There's just rows of shelves everywhere, and I'd say… maybe half of them are covered in boxes. Labels are scribbled on with marker, no pattern that I can make out. Dr. Flood: Would you say there are signs of recent activity in this place? Dr. Lassila: Probably? It definitely doesn't look abandoned, the same way the last ones were. Seems to be a desk here for managing inventory, so if I had to guess I'd say this is some kind of active logistics operation. [Footsteps on recording.] Dr. Lassila: OK, I'm going to change that 'probably' to a 'definitely'. I've just moved onto the next room, and there's another gateway here. Looks a lot like the one I just came through. Dr. Flood: Anything else in this room? Dr. Lassila: Just more tunnels to other caves. And… hold on. Dr. Flood: What? Dr. Lassila: Could you be quiet just a second, please? [Ambience on recording.] Dr. Lassila: OK, I don't know if the mic picked that up, but I think I can hear a piano? Very echoey, but I think it's coming from the cavern to my left. I'm going to… no, wait. It just stopped. Permission to— [A loud siren begins to blare, drowning out Dr. Lassila's speech.] Dr. Flood: Report. Report! [After fifteen seconds, an unidentified individual enters the room via one of the tunnels, and presses a button on a remote control device to silence the alarm.] [unidentified]: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? Dr. Lassila: Never mind. Control, there's an unknown individual in here. Female, estimated late 20s… [unidentified]: …and extremely pissed off with you. How the hell did you get in here? Dr. Lassila: Could I have your name, please? [unidentified]: No, you may not, you fucking… [sighs] OK, sorry, hold on. Did you come in through that? [The individual points at the gateway immediately next to Dr. Lassila.] Dr. Lassila: Why do you ask? [unidentified]: Because this is not your place. This is my place, and if it's insecure, I need to know. So: did you come in through that door, or a different door? Dr. Lassila: I need your name, please, before we do anything else. [unidentified]: Would you mind phrasing that in a way that doesn't make it sound like you're from the forest of identity theft? Dr. Lassila: …do you think that's where I'm from? [unidentified]: No, but I've met people who are, and I don't trust them either. Dr. Lassila: [sighs] My name is Kai Lassila. What's yours? [unidentified]: Jemima Ellbridge. That door, or not? Dr. Lassila: Different door. Ellbridge: Show me, please. Dr. Lassila: I don't think I can do that. Ellbridge: Oh, for God's sake. Is it somewhere in one of these caves? Please give me any information at all to work with. Dr. Lassila: I'm the one asking the questions here. Ellbridge: No, you are not. Because from my perspective, you've just broken into my house, again. You are not the one who gets to demand answers right now. Dr. Lassila: What do you mean, 'again'? Ellbridge: After Three fucking Portlands, is what I mean. Dr. Lassila: I haven't been to Three Portlands. Ellbridge: You… No, you haven't, have you? Foundation's not allowed in there. Wait, what the hell did you do, then? Dr. Lassila: How do you know we're Foundation? Ellbridge: You have a labcoat, a radio, and a paramilitary escort. Don't insult my intelligence, thank you. Tell me about the door you came through. Does it look like this one? [Ellbridge gestures at the gateway.] Dr. Lassila: I can't disc— Ellbridge: Mr. Lassila. Dr. Lassila: Doctor. Ellbridge: Doctor Lassila. Kindly explain to me why I'm supposed to trust someone who's currently an intruder on my property. Dr. Lassila: You said we're breaking into your house again, yes? Ellbridge: Yes. Dr. Lassila: No, not again. We weren't involved the first time. Ellbridge: Do you know who was? Dr. Lassila: No, but we might be able to find out. If you help us. [Silence on recording.] Ellbridge: This conversation doesn't end without me explaining stuff, does it? Dr. Lassila: Probably not, no. Ellbridge: …fine. But it doesn't end without you explaining stuff either. We clear? Dr. Lassila: Why are we trusting you? Ellbridge: Because if I had the power to do anything meaningful to you, I would have kicked you out of here already. We can take the fact that I haven't as a relationship of mutual understanding. Dr. Lassila: Alright. Did you make your gateway using a special card? Ellbridge: Yes. Did you? Dr. Lassila: Not me personally, but yes, we did. Ellbridge: Where did it come from? Dr. Lassila: The cards? Ellbridge: Ah, cards plural? Interesting. Yes, where did they come from? Dr. Lassila: Why do you ask? Ellbridge: Because I have — or had, until recently — the only copy of those cards anywhere in existence. I'm having to remake them all from scratch right now, because some fucking bastard stole them all last week. And if I ever find out who, I'm going to bash their head against that bit of clay there and see what gets dented worse. So: where did they come from? Dr. Lassila: Just to check, it was eighteen cards, yes? Ellbridge: It was forty-four. Dr. Lassila: Oh. We got given eighteen. Ellbridge: Got given them by who? Dr. Lassila: Anonymous. Someone emailed us from a burner account to say "we've left them at this location, here's some instructions for the ritual, you deal with them please". Beyond that, we know as much as you do. Ellbridge: Alright. Fine. I believe you, I think. I'm guessing you're doing recon missions for all the cards? Dr. Lassila: We're intending to. We've only done three others so far. Ellbridge: Any of them have people in? Dr. Lassila: No, not yet. Ellbridge: Right. Word of advice: some of them do, and some of those people are going to be even less happy about your presence than I am. Dr. Lassila: We'll keep that in mind. Ellbridge: You could also let me finish. I'm willing to help you guys, help make sure you don't cause any diplomatic incidents with those cards, if you help me find who stole the rest of them. You'll make no effort to detain me, or invade my home again. First and final offer. Dr. Lassila: I… will need to consult with some people about that. Ellbridge: Fine. Meet me back here in 24 hours, and don't touch shit in the meantime. Deal? Dr. Lassila: [over radio] Lewis? Dr. Flood: Fine by me. Dr. Lassila: Alright. 24 hours. Ellbridge: Great. Now fuck off, please. An investigation found no evidence of any significant affiliation between Ellbridge and any Groups of Interest, hostile or otherwise; her offer was therefore accepted, and she was brought on as a consultant to help document SCP-8282. Expeditions resumed the following day, under Ellbridge's guidance. Expedition 6: SCP-8282-6 Date: 2018-01-16 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Bazaar; illustration depicts a bustling marketplace with three prominent towers in the background. Description: A basement in the city of Three Portlands, one of the largest anomalous enclaves in the world. As Foundation activity in Free Ports such as this one is severely restricted, Dr. Flood entered the Way wearing plain clothes, accompanied only by consulting thaumaturge Jemima Ellbridge rather than an MTF escort. Ellbridge: Welcome to 3Ports. Dr. Flood: Mind if we go outside to confirm? Ellbridge: Sure. Door's over here. [Footsteps on recording.] Dr. Flood: Is this your house? Ellbridge: Think so, yeah. If it's not, then no-one's noticed. Dr. Flood: What does that mean? Ellbridge: My dad owned this place, before he passed. The will didn't mention it anywhere, so I'm not sure it's technically mine… but he died two years ago, so if he'd given it to anyone else, I think I'd know by now. Dr. Flood: Sorry to hear that. Was he a thaumaturge as well? Ellbridge: Yeah, he was the one who made the cards. Some of them, at least, and I made a bunch more after he taught me. He made lots of little magical trinkets and what-have-you, then he'd sell them in places like this. Setting up all these Ways was a pain, but it's quicker than taking the normal entrance. Dr. Flood: You said he sold the stuff he made. Did he ever sell any copies of the cards? Ellbridge: Not that he ever told me, and I don't think he'd have any reason to. Mainly because almost no-one else can actually do the ritual, because no-one has an entire wall's worth of magic clay. Dr. Flood: Oh, yeah, I was going to ask about that. Does that stuff have a proper name? Because 'plimyrite' we came up with in-house. Ellbridge: No idea, to be honest. I probably should have a name for it, 'cause half the cave's made of it. Why 'plimyrite'? Dr. Flood: [inaudible] Ellbridge: What was that? Dr. Flood: Doesn't matter. Ellbridge: No, go on. Dr. Flood: It's from the Greek for 'flood', apparently. Ellbridge: Of course it is. Dr. Flood: Look, I didn't pick it, alright? I don't even love it as a name, honestly. Ellbridge: Bet you signed off on it, though. Dr. Flood: The rest of that story's very long, and I don't think you're cleared for it. [Approx. five minutes of extraneous audio removed for brevity.] Ellbridge: For the record, I was in here when the cards got stolen. Dr. Flood: What do you mean? Ellbridge: I came through 3Ports for… some stuff, then I went back to that house to find the gateway had disappeared. I think someone must have broken into the building, walked through into my actual house in Somerset where I do the rituals, stolen the cards, and then let themselves out. I changed the locks after that. Dr. Flood: Noted. Do you come here a lot? Ellbridge: I come through here a lot, yeah. Don't stay to visit all that often. Dr. Flood: Meaning? Ellbridge: Meaning the walk from that house to the American exits are a hell of a lot quicker and cheaper than a trans-Atlantic flight. Dr. Flood: You're in America pretty often, then? Ellbridge: Oh yeah, definitely. Dr. Flood: How come? What do you do? Ellbridge: Just… stuff. Dr. Flood: Come on. I told you the plimyrite thing, you can tell me this. Ellbridge: …deliveries. Dr. Flood: Deliveries. Ellbridge: Yes. Dr. Flood: Delivering what? Stuff you can't send via a normal courier? Ellbridge: Sometimes. Dr. Flood: Meaning stuff they won't let through customs. Right? Ellbridge: No comment. Dr. Flood: You've got a unique access route to one of the most important locations in the anomalous world, and you're using it to smuggle stuff across international borders? Ellbridge: Still no comment. Dr. Flood: You have a secret cave with magic minerals in the walls, and you're using that as a shipping warehouse? Ellbridge: At least I'm using it. You people just lock stuff in boxes for all eternity. Dr. Flood: OK, I'm going to stop this conversation before someone gets fired. Expedition 9: SCP-8282-9 Date: 2018-01-17 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Future; card is solid black save for the title text. Description: An uninhabited area in Antarctica. Ellbridge claims that this card's destination is in fact a random point on the Earth's land surface, 'rerolled' each time the ritual is performed. Expedition 12: SCP-8282-9 Date: 2018-01-17 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Future; repeated tests were conducted with this card, in order to verify Ellbridge's claims and study the distribution of the selected destinations. Description: A forest in the State of Bahia, Brazil. See attached transcript for additional information. Dr. Lassila: How many more of these tests do we want to do? I'm just worried about the risk of this door showing up in a populated area. Dr. Flood: I'm happy to make this the last one. I think there's a forest on the other side right now, so at least we don't have to worry about this one being populated. Dr. Lassila: Right. Whenever you're ready. [Dr. Flood, Ellbridge, and two members of MTF Rho-18 enter the gateway. Dr. Lassila and the other three agents remain in the lab.] Dr. Flood: All clear. Yeah, this is definitely a forest. It's not totally uninhabited, though, we are near a path… so probably want to make this quick just in case anyone shows up. Dr. Lassila: Noted. You got a GPS reading? Dr. Flood: Yep, this says we're in Brazil. Latitude thirteen point one four two— [Radio contact is abruptly lost. Security footage from the lab at this time shows the gateway shimmering, and the destination behind it visibly changes.] Dr. Lassila: Lewis? You there? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Lassila: Dr. Flood, please report. [Silence on recording.] Dr. Lassila: This is Dr. Kai Lassila to Dr. Lewis Flood, do you read me? Rho-3: Sir? The door. Dr. Lassila: Oh, fuck. Uh, that's not the forest any more. Rho-4: The view through the gateway's very distorted, but I would say that looks like a desert. Dr. Lassila: Which is not a forest. You guys have a spare GPS tracker, right? Rho-3: Yes. Dr. Lassila: Great. Go through there right now. Report coordinates immediately. Rho-3: Copy. [Rho-3, -4 and -5 enter the gateway.] Rho-3: This is indeed a desert, Control. Latitude 16.24843 north, longitude 15.60191 w— Rho-4: There's another gateway! About twenty metres from ours. Rho-5: And there's a person walking around. Who is that? Rho-3: Permission to engage, Control? Dr. Lassila: Granted. Rho-3: Hey! Identify yourself! Rho-5: He's running to the door! Move! [Running footsteps on recording.] Rho-4: And… he's gone. He went through his gateway and then it disappeared behind him. Just vanished. Dr. Lassila: Right, get back here, now. I don't think this thing is stable. Rho-3: Copy. [All three agents return to Site-91 through the remaining gateway.] After losing contact with Control, the agents accompanying Dr. Flood and Ellbridge activated an emergency distress beacon; all four individuals were subsequently rescued by personnel from Site-34. In their debriefing at Site-91, Dr. Flood and Ellbridge reported that the gateway had suddenly vanished behind them without explanation. They described some of the theories they had discussed as to the cause of the disappearance, including: The card used in the SCP-8282 ritual was damaged or defective in some way; The SCP-8282 ritual had been conducted improperly; The SCP-8282 ritual had somehow been conducted a second time after they had entered the gateway, triggering a 'reroll' of its random destination. Dr. Lassila's observations appeared to confirm the last of these theories. The individual spotted by Rho-5 was presumed to possess his own copy of the Future card and was attempting to use it at the same time as the researchers; furthermore, it was supposed that the two cards were entangled, such that performing the SCP-8282 ritual with one would instantly randomise the destination of both to the same location. Ellbridge: That doesn't make any sense. Dr. Lassila: Why not? Ellbridge: How would there be another copy of the card? There's only one, and we have it. Dr. Lassila: I don't think that can be true. The agents saw that guy come through his own gateway. Ellbridge: How? Dr. Flood: I think we need to entertain the idea that your dad gave someone else a copy of the deck, early on. That early copy is what we picked up from Site-128, which is why it's incomplete. The guy who stole your copy — which presumably is the same guy who showed up in the desert — still has the full deck. Ellbridge: How would we confirm that? Dr. Flood: You said your dad made some of the cards, and you made the rest? Right? Ellbridge: Yes. Dr. Flood: Did you make any of the cards that we currently have? Ellbridge: Let me see them. [Dr. Lassila hands Ellbridge the deck, which she quickly looks through.] Ellbridge: Nope. These are all old ones. [Silence on recording.] Ellbridge: Oh. Dr. Flood: Yeah. Ellbridge: OK, so this guy… we can't just keep calling him 'this guy'. Do you have a number for him or something? Dr. Lassila: No, we probably should. Ellbridge: PoI-8282? Dr. Lassila: PoI-8282 is you, Jem. Ellbridge: Oh. 8283? I don't know how your numbering system works. Dr. Lassila: Not like that. Dr. Flood: We can find some other relevant number, right? Ellbridge: You said you found these cards at Site-128? What about PoI-128? Dr. Flood: That number's not free, is it? Dr. Lassila: No, PoI-128 is Richard Sterling. Ellbridge: Who, sorry? Dr. Lassila: Doesn't matter. Ellbridge: No, no, I know that name. Dr. Lassila: You know that name? How? Ellbridge: Oh, God, I think he was one of Dad's friends? He knew quite a lot of folks in the anomalous community, sometimes he'd have them round to talk shop. Why? How come he's on your radar? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Flood: Oh, for fuck's sake. Ellbridge: What? Dr. Flood: Is that what he was fucking doing? Ellbridge: Is what what he was doing? When? Dr. Lassila: I have to go and make a call. And then I have to… probably go update a whole bunch of document classifications very quickly. Meeting dismissed. FOUNDATION PERSONNEL FILE (ABRIDGED) Dr. Sterling in 2004. Richard Sterling Position: N/A Security Clearance Level: N/A Status: Unknown Dr. Sterling was the Director of Site-128 in Somerset, England from its founding in 1989 until his presumed death under mysterious circumstances in 2004. He is currently under a long-running internal affairs investigation surrounding: The precise nature of his death/disappearance; The possibility that he was, for a large portion of his career, an unregistered thaumaturge; His general management of Site-128, marked by an abnormal degree of chaos in its administrative affairs; His relation to an esoteric materials mishandling incident in 1995 involving the disappearance of several hundred kilograms of plimyrite, which led to the erroneous reassignment of his then-deputy, Dr. Lewis Flood, to a junior research position at Site-333 in New Jersey; His relation, if any, to the catastrophic attack on Site-128 in 2016 that led to the facility's closure. For additional information on this investigation, contact Drs. Oliver Memphis or Kai Lassila of the Research Liaison Team. Ellbridge: You're joking. Dr. Lassila: Nope. I don't have permission to show you the full report on this guy, but let's just say it's very long. And fairly chaotic. And I think extremely funny, right up until the part where it causes multiple deaths. Dr. Flood: I thought it was funny up until the part where I got demoted to a shithole Site for twenty years. Ellbridge: Yeah, what's with that part? What's it mean by 'erroneous reassignment'? Dr. Flood: Is she cleared for that? Dr. Lassila: That part specifically, yes. It's relevant to her expertise. Dr. Flood: Right. We seized half a ton of plimyrite from some Welsh mine. Or rather, I did — I was in charge of the stuff. Which meant that when it vanished from the Site two weeks later, it looked like it was my fault. Ellbridge: Was it your fault? Dr. Flood: No, it was Sterling's fault. He hid it in some random storage room on-Site. And nobody realised, because after working at 128 for long enough, you got trained not to ask awkward questions like "why is this stationery cupboard Director's access only?" Ellbridge: Jesus Christ. And you think this guy got given the old cards? Dr. Lassila: I think he got given the old cards and stole your new ones. Ellbridge: Why do you think that? Dr. Lassila: Because I'm looking at his file photo, and I reckon if you added 14 years to it, you'd get the guy on that bodycam footage from the desert. Ellbridge: Is that the best evidence you've got? Dr. Lassila: We also have some fairly scattered reports from various intelligence sources suggesting that he's been hiding in Three Portlands for the last couple years, where we can't get him… which would at least line up with what you said about the theft. Ellbridge: Why, though? What's the point? Dr. Flood: Maybe he knew about your deal? Maybe he knew some of your deal, broke into your house in 3Ports, recognised the cards as a more complete version of his own set, and decided to steal them then and there? Ellbridge: But again, why? If he's fine in 3Ports, why try and mess stuff up even more? Dr. Flood: Unless he doesn't think he's fine. Dr. Lassila: Very possible. Those same scattered reports suggest that he's essentially a paranoid asshole at this point. He's been stuck in the same small, isolated city for at least the last year and a half, he doesn't talk to a lot of people, and he's constantly afraid that someone's out to get him. Ellbridge: I thought you were out to get him. Dr. Lassila: A lot of people are, to be fair. Apparently he's pissed off half the city one way or another. Screams at people, refuses to pay them for stuff, sometimes runs active scams, and generally acts like a lunatic in public. For what it's worth, though, I don't think we should waste time trying to fathom his motivations. Whatever he's trying to achieve, it probably doesn't make a lot of difference to us. Ellbridge: OK, so… I get how he has my new deck. Why do we have his old one? Dr. Flood: Maybe one of the people he upset stole it from him? That would go full circle quite nicely. Dr. Lassila: Oh, God, I think you're right. Dr. Flood: You think so? Dr. Lassila: That anonymous email we got. "You can deal with this better than me." What do we want to bet that "this" isn't referring to the cards? Dr. Flood: Someone gave us Richard Sterling's old copy of the deck so we would capture him? We're not unpaid contract police. Dr. Lassila: Yeah, I know. That's why I've had my head in my hands for the last twenty seconds. Ellbridge: Well, what are you concerned about? Dr. Lassila: I don't like that someone else is effectively trying to get us to do their bidding. I think the higher-ups won't be amused by that. Ellbridge: Do you want to get hold of the rest of the cards? Dr. Lassila: Well, yes. Ellbridge: Do you want to get hold of the guy who's been repeatedly fucking up your shit since the late 80s? Dr. Flood: Yes. Ellbridge: OK, so you're not doing someone else's bidding. You're doing your own bidding, which happens to align with what someone else wants. Dr. Lassila: I take your point. I'm still not sure how much we can meaningfully do, though. Ellbridge: How come? Dr. Lassila: Presumably what Sterling is doing is just hiding in various different Free Ports for as long as possible. Which is a very good strategy for him, because the Foundation can't conduct official business in any of those places. Ellbridge: I can. Dr. Lassila: Not on our behalf. Ellbridge: I can do stuff on my behalf. Then it just happens to align with what you want. Nice how things work out, isn't it? Dr. Lassila: OK, but with all due respect, what are you going to do? You can't just capture a guy, and you don't have the resources of an international paramilitary. Do you have the resources of an international paramilitary? Ellbridge: No, but I have the diplomatic connections of one. I know someone who lives or works in every location in this deck — all the ones that have people in them, at least — and those people talk to other people, and to each other. If Richard Sterling's managed to piss off half the Portlands just by living there, I reckon I can get him blacklisted from every Free Port in the world. Dr. Flood: Interesting. Should we write up a project proposal? Ellbridge: No. Dr. Lassila: No, because then it becomes Foundation business, and then both of us… Ellbridge: …are fucked? Dr. Lassila: I was going to phrase it more tactfully, but yes. The official explanation on record needs to be that we anticipate the situation will resolve itself in due time, and we are simply waiting for Dr. Sterling to be forced out of hiding. We can monitor the situation, but anything else that happens is the result of independent actions taken by unrelated parties. Everyone clear on that? Further information on this situation will be added when available. NOTICE FROM THE RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION The following updates to this file are provisionally classified pending review. By continuing, you confirm that you are in possession of Level 5/8282 clearance. -Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Over the next several weeks, Foundation intelligence sources (including Ellbridge) confirmed that Dr. Sterling had attempted to access numerous Free Ports, and had either fled or been forcibly removed from each. This culminated in the following communication, received by the O5 Council on 10 February 2018 and subsequently forwarded to Dr. Lassila: Foundation, An individual identifying as "Richard Sterling" recently entered the Wanderers' Library, seeking asylum from forces unspecified. This message is to inform you that we have ejected him from the premises, owing to: his known status as a senior agent of your organisation; his usage of an unsanctioned and insecure Way as a means of ingress; his general disrespectful behaviour and profane language. We have closed the gateway through which Mr. Sterling entered, and have returned him to your custody. You are invited to take this message as a reminder that we are not, as a general rule, open to your personnel — especially those engaging in conduct such as his. Regards, The Eighth Archivist Dr. Flood: Jesus Christ. Ellbridge: I didn't even talk to the Library. If he managed to get himself kicked out of there, that's fully on him. Dr. Flood: Has he been returned to our custody? Dr. Lassila: O5's put all Sites on alert, but no response so far. Ellbridge: Why do they think he still works for you, if he disappeared 14 years ago? Dr. Lassila: I'm willing to bet they didn't get the memo. 128 was one of the smallest Sites we ran, and no-one else in the Foundation ever gave a shit about it. It may be that no-one outside the Foundation cares either. I'm sure the Library has better things to do than update their records of that hellhole. Ellbridge: In that case, do they think 128's still operating? Dr. Flood: Oh, God, that's where they've sent him, isn't it? Dr. Lassila: Yep. We'll send a team. Dr. Flood: Wait, how long ago did we get that message? Dr. Lassila: About an hour. Ellbridge: So he might not still be there. Dr. Flood: Might have booked a train to Portland. It's only an hour or two from there, right? Dr. Lassila: Oh, I bet he has. Jem, can you go through into 3Ports and wait at the UK entrance? Ellbridge: I can, but you might want to send a team to wait at the other side, 'cause they might just not let him in the door any more. Dr. Lassila: Alright, I can send half of Rho-18 there, and the other half to scout around 128. Expedition 26: SCP-8282-6 Date: 2018-02-10 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Bazaar Description: See Expedition 6 above. Notes: Dr. Flood and Ellbridge entered Three Portlands and proceeded to monitor the exit leading to Portland, UK for roughly two hours. After neither they nor the team of agents monitoring the city's exterior saw any sign of Dr. Sterling, the two instead forced entry into his residence within Three Portlands; neither Dr. Sterling, his copy of SCP-8282-A, or any gateway produced by SCP-8282 were visible. Ellbridge: He's definitely not there. Dr. Lassila: But he still has the cards? Ellbridge: Seems so. Dr. Lassila: Which means he's probably going to try and do the ritual again. And to do that, you need a giant chunk of plimyrite. So… where else is there plimyrite? Ellbridge: Well, my house. That's pretty close to 128, I think. Dr. Lassila: I'll send the task force there. Ellbridge: No, I can get there quicker through the cave. Expedition 27: SCP-8282-4 Date: 2018-02-10 Officer of Record: Dr. Lewis Flood Card: Sanctuary Description: See Expedition 4 above. Notes: Dr. Flood, Ellbridge and two agents entered the cave, and proceeded through the existing gateway into the latter's personal residence. No sign of Dr. Sterling, or any forced entry of any kind, was visible. However, Ellbridge noted abnormal phenomena in the cave itself during their return; see attached transcript for more information. Dr. Flood: He's not there, Control. No sign of— Ellbridge: Shut up. Dr. Flood: What? Ellbridge: Sh-shh. [Faint knocking sounds, once every few seconds, are audible.] Ellbridge: [whispering] What is that? Dr. Flood: [whispering] I thought it was just cave noises. Ellbridge: Not this cave. That doesn't happen. Dr. Flood: Is someone else in here? Ellbridge: That doesn't make sense. They should have set off the alarms, like Kai did last time. Dr. Flood: Should we check anyway? [Approx. five minutes of extraneous audio removed. Dr. Flood, Ellbridge and the agents split up to explore the cave, finding it empty.] Dr. Flood: Nothing? Ellbridge: Nothing, but I think it's loudest in that direction. In the piano room. Dr. Flood: Why do you have a piano in here? Ellbridge: I like playing with the reverb, it sounds cool. But the knocking's definitely coming from that way. Dr. Flood: It's from outside, maybe? Ellbridge: I didn't think there was an outside. I thought this was a pocket world that you could only get to using those cards. Dr. Flood: If there's no outside, why haven't we suffocated? Because that one door into your house should not be enough to ventilate a cave of this size. Where do those things in the ceiling go? And also, where's the plimyrite from? Ellbridge: What? Dr. Flood: If the plimyrite's from here, and you need it to do the ritual that gets you in here, where did it come from originally? Ellbridge: I don't know. Dr. Flood: I do, 'cause I found it. Control, I have a suggestion. Dr. Lassila: Yes? Dr. Flood: Aflendid. Dr. Lassila: What about it? Ellbridge: Where the hell's that? Dr. Flood: Aflendid. Village in south Wales, used to be a mining town. It kind of has a history of anomalous geology, and it's where we first found this stuff. Ellbridge: So? Dr. Flood: When did your dad start making these cards? Ellbridge: I dunno, early-mid '90s? I was a little kid. Dr. Flood: Oh, thanks. But the mid '90s was when we found the mine. We thought we exhausted it, there wasn't any more plimyrite, but… I guess your dad got hold of some. Probably moved a bunch into 3Ports at some point, if that's where Sterling's been operating from recently. Meanwhile, the clay that we pulled out of Aflendid is the stuff that's now at Site-91. That is where it all comes from, and if there's more of it here, that might mean we're directly under the town. And I think that knocking is Sterling, on the surface, trying to dig out enough plimyrite to use as a door. [Silence on recording.] Dr. Lassila: That's an insane theory, but in the absence of a better one, I move we adopt it. Dr. Flood and three members of MTF Rho-18 were dispatched to the village of Aflendid, and eventually discovered Dr. Sterling in a disused mining tunnel adjacent to the town, attempting to dig his way through to the seam of plimyrite using only a single shovel. Dr. Flood: Hello, Richard. [Dr. Sterling turns to face Dr. Flood. He appears startled, panicked, and noticeably short of breath.] Dr. Sterling: Who are you? Dr. Flood: Your memory going? Or was it just not worth remembering the guy you sent to New fucking Jersey for two decades? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Flood: Lewis Flood. I would say it's a pleasure, but… you know. Catharsis might be a better word. [Dr. Sterling pauses, and then lunges at Dr. Flood with his shovel. He retreats after the agents raise their guns.] Dr. Flood: Oh, for God's sake, Richard. You ran a Site for fifteen years. You know damn well that one old guy is not going to win a fight against a Foundation field team. Put the shovel down, and come with us. Dr. Sterling: I'm a citizen of Three Portlands. You can't arrest me without causing a diplomatic incident. Dr. Flood: Why didn't you go there, then? [Silence on recording.] Dr. Flood: Oh. You did. You just got there before we did, and they told you to piss off. Right? Dr. Sterling: How the hell are you getting any of this? Dr. Flood: I don't know if you noticed, Richard, but people don't like you. I don't like you. Three Portlands doesn't like you. The woman you stole those cards from certainly doesn't like you — and we're going to need those back, by the way. Even the Library sent us a courtesy note to tell us they'd got rid of you. Dr. Sterling: You're lying. Dr. Flood: I'm lying, am I? The guy who stole half a ton of magic clay and made that my fault, the guy who literally faked his own death, is telling me I'm lying? Great. That's good to hear. [Dr. Sterling places the shovel on the ground, and pulls his copy of SCP-8282-A from his pocket. He appears to inspect it for a moment, then suddenly turns around to face the partially-exposed plimyrite and hurriedly performs SCP-8282.] Dr. Flood: Get him! [The MTF agents advance as a gateway forms in the clay, dust cascading as the remaining rocks around the opening fall away. The Way appears to waver slightly as he jumps through, as though unstable.] Rho-3: Where's he going? [As soon as Dr. Sterling enters the Way, he is tackled to the ground by a waiting Jemima Ellbridge. He drops the cards as he collapses, and they scatter through the air. Ellbridge waves her free hand, and all 44 cards begin flying around the room in spirals before forming a neat stack in her palm. She steps back and looks at Dr. Sterling, who attempts to get up but is restrained by the agents before he can flee.] Ellbridge: He's in 3Ports. Hello! Dr. Sterling: No, no, no, no, no… Ellbridge: Yeah, sorry. Were you always this predictable? Or just lost your touch? [Dr. Flood enters the gateway.] Dr. Flood: Sorry, how did you do that? With the… [Dr. Flood waves his hand around in imitation.] Ellbridge: When I said I was a cartomancer, I meant it quite broadly. Dr. Sterling: [groans] Hang on, are you Tom Ellbridge's kid? Ellbridge: Yep. Dr. Sterling: You're working with the fucking Foundation? Dr. Flood: Yes, she is. Why weren't you? Dr. Sterling: I worked for the Foundation for 25 years! Dr. Flood: No, you didn't. You built an entire Site on a bundle of lies. Who were you actually working for? Dr. Sterling: I wasn't working for anyone. Get the fuck away from me. Dr. Flood: Richard. Ellbridge: That's probably true, to be fair. Dr. Flood: What do you mean? Ellbridge: When I was asking around last week, I found out some really interesting things. Do you know what he's actually been doing for the last decade and a half? Mostly, he's just been running a bunch of different scams. Selling magic items that aren't, charging extortionate rates for useless consulting advice, that sort of thing. Basically, it's what I would be doing if I actively hated everyone else in the world. Dr. Flood: We were vaguely aware. We just never figured out why, what agenda he was trying to advance. Ellbridge: Why would he be doing that? You've presupposed he's secretly working for the Hand, or the Insurgency, or… how many of these bloody groups are there? Dr. Flood: Too many. Ellbridge: But they all have their ideology. They all care about how the anomalous world should be run. He doesn't care about that shit. I've met a dozen grifters just like him — and the thing about them is, grifters don't need ideology, except as something they can peddle to everyone else. He's scamming on his own behalf. He's not working for anyone except himself. Dr. Flood: Interesting. Is that a fair assessment, Richard? [Silence on recording. Dr. Sterling is unresponsive.] Dr. Flood: Richard? You there? Ellbridge: I could be wrong, but I think he's currently speedrunning the five stages of grief. Give him a minute to get out of depression. Dr. Flood: No, I'm happy to make it last longer, actually. Hey, Richard, you want to know something interesting? You know how we never gave that material an actual name? Since, you know, you disappeared it before I even had a chance to write up its file? Dr. Sterling: It's called thaumic clay, you idiot. Dr. Flood: Eh, bad name. Won't catch on. Anyway, we picked a better one a few years ago. [Dr. Sterling sighs in exhaustion.] Dr. Sterling: Let me guess. SCP-dash-bunch of numbers? Dr. Flood: Well, yes, that's its formal designation. Nobody calls it that, though. We call it plimyrite. Dr. Sterling: Plimyrite? Dr. Flood: From the Greek plimmyra. Meaning 'flood'. [Dr. Flood grins insincerely at Dr. Sterling, and gestures to the agents to lead him through the gateway to Site-91. The agents comply; Dr. Sterling does not struggle, seemingly lacking the energy. Ellbridge holds up her new copy of the Bazaar card, and shakes it until the gateway to Aflendid vanishes.] Interrogation of Dr. Sterling is ongoing, but has so far revealed the working theories of Ms. Ellbridge, Dr. Flood and Dr. Lassila to be largely accurate. His older copy of SCP-8282-A had been given to him as a gift by one Thomas Ellbridge in the mid-1990s, and was stolen by parties unknown shortly after he himself stole Jemima Ellbridge's more expansive 44-card deck. Further queries surrounding this investigation should be directed to the Research Liaison Team. Addendum 3, Subsequent Observations: Subsequent to Dr. Sterling's capture, a debriefing was conducted at Site-91. Ellbridge: So what happens now? Our deal only went as far as getting the full set of cards back. Dr. Lassila: Yeah, and I think you know that we can't just give them back to you. Not without me getting chewed out by everyone in my chain of command. Dr. Flood: I can confirm that losing valuable anomalies isn't popular with the management. Ellbridge: What would you use them for, though? [Silence on recording.] Ellbridge: I'm genuinely asking. Because half of these cards go to abandoned places that I don't think would be much use to you, and most of the others go to Free Ports, which you guys aren't even allowed into. Not on official business, anyway. Dr. Flood: I've seen your report on where the rest of the cards go. There's not no use cases there. We could… I don't know, get from here to Sloth's Pit very quickly. Ellbridge: I can make you a copy of that card, if you want. I could make you a copy of the whole deck, if you gave me a couple months. Dr. Lassila: And leave the other copy to you, so you can keep on running maybe-illegal deliveries? How am I going to justify that to Director Varga? Ellbridge: [shrugs] The Foundation's job is to maintain the Veil, right? Dr. Lassila: Yes. Ellbridge: Am I threatening the Veil? Dr. Lassila: …not obviously. Ellbridge: Was I threatening it before, back when I had the full deck? Dr. Lassila: …not that I'm aware of. Ellbridge: No. And if I had, you'd know, and you wouldn't be working with me. You'd have vetoed my offer on day one. I don't want to take down the Veil, frankly. I like being the only one with a magic cave, as you've well noticed. And I also like being allowed in the Portlands. Dr. Flood: Yeah, what's the status on that? Do they know you're working with us? Ellbridge: Probably not. But even if they did, my consulting relationship wih you right now — officially speaking — consists of me making sure you don't storm into a Free Port guns blazing and fuck up everything in a mile's radius. I think even someone who doesn't like the Foundation would agree that's probably a good thing. Dr. Lassila: Well, we'll take your proposal under advisement. It's still going to be a tricky proposal to write up, you understand, and we've all had a stressful few weeks. So… give me a couple days, and I'll try and figure something out. Ellbridge: If you just need to de-stress, well… I guess that is another use case of the cards. Dr. Flood: What do you mean? Ellbridge: I know a place. Expedition 28: SCP-8282-19 Date: 2018-02-11 Officer of Record: Dr. Kai Lassila Card: Light; illustration depicts an idyllic coastal area with a lighthouse. Description: An idyllic coastal area with a lighthouse. Notes: Dr. Lassila, Dr. Flood and Ms. Ellbridge all entered the location together, and remained there for approximately one hour. No audio log is included, as it consists of extraneous and irrelevant material. Ellbridge subsequently agreed to continue her consulting relationship with Site-91. She will produce a full copy of SCP-8282-A for research purposes and will advise on the usage thereof, in exchange for the return of the original deck to her and minimal interference in her affairs. A full manifest of all SCP-8282-# locations is available upon request from Dr. Lewis Flood, Senior Researcher at Site-91. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8282" by OliverMemphis, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8282. 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. 128d.png by OliverMemphis, based on template-site.svg by HarryBlank, from Foundation Facilities License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Forest.png Source: Sunlit forest by Dejan Hudoletnjak, from Flickr (edited by OliverMemphis) License: CC BY 2.0 Sterling.jpg Source: Middle-aged dad by Martin Thomas, from Flickr License: CC BY 2.0 |
SCP-8286 | keter | Item #: SCP-8286 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8286 has been transferred to the purview of the Department of Applied Necromancy for testing. SCP-8286 is to be kept within a standard testing chamber at Confidential Research Site-Magni. Researchers assigned to SCP-8286 are tasked with restoring it to life. As it is imperative that the Foundation achieve this goal as soon as possible, the cross-testing of SCP-8286 with other SCP items is permitted with the express permission of Department of Applied Necromancy Director Hyatt. Any sighting of SCP-8286-1 by Foundation personnel are to be attributed to a containment breach by the "SCP-8286" described in the fabricated version of this article's documentation. A child actor dressed to resemble SCP-8286-1 instances is to be transported to Site 19 to enhance the deception. Description: SCP-8286 is the corpse of a female humanoid entity. Any sapient being who views SCP-8286's body directly experiences sudden feelings of grief and pity for the deceased entity. Before its death, SCP-8286 reportedly sat in a garden surrounded by SCP-8286-1 instances, entertaining them by telling stories, singing songs, reciting poetry, and anomalously producing toys from the folds of its clothing. SCP-8286-1 are hollow, animate figures of children made of a delicate substance that superficially resembles plaster. In their current form, they possess limited mobility, are incapable of speech, and do not appear to be sapient. Prior to SCP-8286's death, SCP-8286-1 instances were indistinguishable from regular human children, both physically and mentally. In 2008, SCP-8286 was killed by members of the Global Occult Coalition who believed that the entity had been kidnapping and brainwashing children for centuries. Upon the death of SCP-8286, instances of SCP-8286-1 were heard to emit pained vocalizations and transform into the plaster-like figures they now are. The GOC operatives proceeded to destroy all SCP-8286-1, but left SCP-8286's body untouched due to its anomalous manipulation of their emotions. Since the death of SCP-8286, several hundred children worldwide have spontaneously turned into instances of SCP-8286-1, with the number of affected children increasing annually. 78% of children who have undergone this transformation are no longer in the care of one or both parents. Foundation statisticians have predicted that if the increase in conversions continues to grow at a constant rate, a total of 50,000 children will have been converted by the end of 2015, and by 2020 it will be impossible for any human under the age of 18 to survive. Operation Persephone Addendum: The following a message from Director Hyatt to all researchers to assigned to SCP-8286: Hello, Here’s the upshot: no, we don't know who SCP-8286 is. Mystical, maternal figures are rampant in folklore, mythology, and religion, but there’s no single literary figure that we can definitively identify as SCP-8286. For all we know, SCP-8286 may have been the original source of inspiration for all those other characters. That’s for folkloristics to determine once our work is done, we’re just going to try out best for our specific mission. The Global Occult Coalition has been surprisingly cooperative. Less surprisingly, they have been of little help. The "shoot first, ask questions later" approach means that they knew next to nothing about SCP-8286's nature before they shot her. All that’s been given to me is the description earlier in this document, and I’ve been given very high clearance relating to this project. As for whether bringing her back will stop the children from being converted or not, we don't know that either. Still, based on what we know right now, it's the best bet. Prevailing wisdom is that if things continue as they are, we will eventually see the end of the human race as we know it. I understand we haven’t made much progress in proper reanimation in the department, but we’re working with a budget we haven't had since Applied Necromancy's inception. Now, the Foundation has ways of counteracting end-of-world scenarios, but I shouldn’t need to say that isn’t happening. Until O5 command says otherwise, we're going to do what we can to get this gal back on her feet. Death won’t win. —Director Maynard Hyatt Test Log T-98817-OC109/8286 Cross-SCP Reanimation Testing for SCP-8286 Due to the highly detrimental effect SCP-8286 has in its deceased state, reanimation testing has been ordered, with clearance from O5 Command. Item: SCP-8061 Reanimation Test Record: Foundation technicians cooperated with visual effects professionals to create a reel of film depicting a digital recreation of SCP-8286 in its living state. The finished product, which consisted of 50 hours of digitally made footage, was then played using SCP-806. An instance of SCP-806-1 strongly resembling SCP-8286 was generated and presented to a group of SCP-8286-1. The instance of SCP-806-1 did not know how it was supposed to react to the children, and when instructed to sing, its voice had no effect. Item: SCP-18322 Reanimation Test Record: SCP-1832 pressed on SCP-8286's forehead for roughly 20 minutes before falling unconscious. SCP-1832 was found in critical condition and had to receive immediate medical attention. After regaining consciousness, SCP-1832 expressed relief upon learning of the test's failure. Item: SCP-4473 Reanimation Test Record: Results unsatisfactory. Note: Something is wrong. It should’ve worked. I need a new approach. Item: SCP-57794 Reanimation Test Record: Director Hyatt entered SCP-5779’s chambers, and reported the entity had taken on the appearance of SCP-8286. SCP-5779 was immediately able to recognize Director Hyatt by name without being informed prior. It was confirmed through preliminary questioning that SCP-5779 could not produce any further data regarding SCP-8286. The purpose and significance of this experiment is unknown. Item: SCP-1295-45 Reanimation Test Record: SCP-1295 was shown a photograph of SCP-8286's remains. SCP-1295 frowned and stated, "You've come to the wrong guy, son. You want my opinion? Leave her be. Now take that picture away. It's putting me off my pie." A Foundation staff member functioning as a waitress reported SCP-1295-4 telling its companions that "there's not much more waiting left." Item: SCP-33096 Reanimation Test Record: SCP-3309 was used to attempt the destruction of SCP-8286’s file and thus prevent its death. While initially it appeared to have worked, keeping SCP-8286 from all Foundation databases for a time, an unknown and unforeseen process counteracted the process and made it remanifest into the primary Foundation database. Item: SCP-44697 Reanimation Test Record: Results unsatisfactory. Notes: I wrote my name on the shovel because I thought… I searched my pockets and inside was a train ticket. I took the first train out of town when I was very young, before I could’ve possibly bought it. This feels like some kind of sick joke. Addendum-2: Following complaints from his colleagues and notable misuse of resources for Operation Persephone, Director Hyatt was summoned to Site-01 by O5-8 for review with regards to six more months of funding for Operation Persephone. O5-8: Have a seat. Hyatt: Good evening, sir. I wanted— O5-8: Have a seat, director. [Hyatt sits] O5-8: Director, you know how I feel about you. Hyatt: Yes. O5-8: And you know that I fought for this project. Hyatt: Yes, sir, I do. O5-8: Which means, Maynard, I’m riding my reputation on you. How do you think an overseer gains the title “the Lesser”? [Silence] The world is ending. People, children, are dying. And now I sit in my office and I hear reports you grabbed, what, a memory shovel? Hyatt: Look, there’s strong evidence to suggest— O5-8: You spoke to a clone, Hyatt. [Silence] Six months. You had six months to solve this. Hyatt: Sir, with all due respect, this is the biggest problem in anomalous history. It is the function of my entire department. I just need more time, I will think of something. I’m drafting a new project pitch right– O5-8: Stop. Director, stop. Can you bring her back? Hyatt: No. O5-8: Can you bring anyone back? [Silence] O5-8: This meeting is terminated. [O5-8 gets up, picks up his briefcase, and begins walking towards the door] Hyatt: Sir? Sir, please. No, you can’t do this, sir. Overseer, I know her! [Silence] O5-8: Excuse me? Hyatt: I’m an orphan. We’re all orphans. That’s what she is, she mothered us. I couldn’t remember because I was so young, but she gave me a meal and a warm place to stay for a night and then a one-way ticket out of town. O5-8: Oh. Hyatt: Sir, I have given my life to what you see as the backwater of your organisation because death is real. And it is insurmountable, and it has taken everything…everything I have. You know what I’ve lost, you’ve read my file. Sometimes when I walk on the beach, or I’m at a grocery store, or I’m watching the news and I remember who can’t watch it with me, sir. And now you’re giving me the opportunity to fix it — not just for myself, but everyone. To rip that pain from the world. I just need time. Jesus, I just need time. [Silence] Hyatt: Please. O5-8: You said you had a new pitch. Operation Orpheus Addendum-3: The following is a message from Director Hyatt: Hello all, I’m writing this in front of a headstone, the grave of my wife. It is raining. Most of you remember when the ring came off, I didn’t even need to tell you. It hurts. It will never stop hurting. You know that. The purpose of this message is to inform you of Operation Orpheus, the second chapter in bringing the old girl back to life. My working theory is that she could come back if she wanted to, but she is choosing not to. So, the plan is to descend to her position in the afterlife and coax her to reanimate. It has to be me. Please do not attempt to take my place or talk me out of the project. I am of sound mind. Testing will continue. —Director Maynard Hyatt. On August 2nd, 2014, Operation Orpheus was approved by the Overseer Council to assist in the reanimation of SCP-8286. Operation Orpheus is to be carried out utilising a reverse engineered version of SCP-2922, designated ORPHEUS-1, a headset that allows the consciousness to be monitored and directly recorded between the afterlife and the material plane. Director Hyatt is to be placed on a hospital table and undergo temporary brain-death, coinciding with the activation of ORPHEUS-1. Hyatt will then be guided towards SCP-8286’s relative afterlife via the activation of ORPHEUS-2 (“Fishhook”). Addendum-4: On September 23rd, 2014, Operation Orpheus was carried out successfully. The following is the transcription provided by ORPHEUS-1 operators. [Director Hyatt awakens in a field. He is surrounded by tall grass. The wind is blowing, the sky is a peach colour. He stands up, faces the sky. He walks slowly through the grass for 3 minutes, before coming upon a small, wooden house. SCP-8286 is on the front porch of the house looking back at Hyatt. She’s tall, and her disposition is warm. There’s a small stool between two chairs on the porch, a tea set is resting on it. Hyatt stops walking] SCP-8286: Hi, Maynard. Hyatt: Ah. So you know me? SCP-8286: Of course I know you, hon. I don’t forget a face. Hyatt: Right. OK. SCP-8286: Are you coming up? Um, for the tea? Hyatt: Why not. [Hyatt finally approaches the steps onto the porch. They creak ever so slightly under his feet. SCP-8286 takes the teapot and pours it into one of the cups before handing it to him. He slowly drinks from it] SCP-8286: It’s been a long time. It’s good to see you, how far you’ve come. Hyatt: What is this place? Aren’t the afterlives, I don’t know, more…manic? SCP-8286: They can be. Surely you know there’s more than that, though. Feel the draft. Hyatt: It’s a bit cold, isn’t it? SCP-8286: I hear that’s what your foundation is all about. [Silence] Hyatt: Alright. Sure, I’ll cut to it. You can’t stay. You have to come back. SCP-8286: How’s the tea? Hyatt: Good, thank you. You can come with me, that’s the easy way. SCP-8286: What’s the hard way, Mayne? The guys come down, shoot the breeze? Hyatt: That about covers it. It’s all we can do, you understand that. SCP-8286: Now, why is that? Hyatt: Because— because kids are dying. Because you’re dead. I don’t understand the question. SCP-8286: No children are dying, no one is dying. Hyatt: What? Excuse me?! SCP-8286: Exactly that. [Hyatt sets down his tea, some of it spills out of the cup] Hyatt: No. No, no, no. No, you don’t get to say that. SCP-8286: Mayne, you— Hyatt: Director Hyatt, of the Applied Necromancy Department. You can say no one is dying, you can say it’s OK, you can live in your little shack out to nowhere, and that’s OK for you. For you. You get to have that smile on your face, laugh it up. But I live with it, we live with it. Oh my GOD, no one’s dying? You’re dead! Jesus! [Hyatt is on his feet. SCP-8286 is looking at him, concerned. He sits back down] Hyatt: … There is a world of difference between the inability to come back from the dead, and the choice not to. If you can’t make the right decision, I will make the decision for you. SCP-8286: You’re grieving again. How much are you grieving? [Hyatt is silent] SCP-8286: It’s OK, honey. It’s alright. They’re mourning too, the children. It’s OK. Hyatt: They’re grieving? They’re gone. We’re lost. We’re lost, ma’. SCP-8286: No. God, no. Not at all. Hyatt: How do you know, how do you know that? How… [Hyatt’s eyes begin welling with tears] SCP-8286: Oh, come here, honey. [They embrace. The sun is setting. Hyatt cries] Hyatt: I…you can’t…please… SCP-8286: I know, I know. Sit and have the tea, won’t you? Hyatt: [Through helpless sobs] What if this is all it is, the rotting. The dead. What if it never gets better than this? SCP-8286: What if it does? Hyatt: When? SCP-8286: Unfortunately, when it’s ready to. When the world is ready to move on. Hyatt: But…but how do you know? Please. SCP-8286: Because it has to. [Silence. Maynard watches a tear fall into his tea and buries his head into his hands] Hyatt: I wish this place were a hell-pit. It’d be so much easier to drag you out. [He begins to laugh. She laughs too. He grows hysterical] SCP-8286: I know Mayne. I know. I think it’s time you head home now, it’s getting dark. Hyatt: Yeah, I know. Do you promise this’ll heal? SCP-8286: I promise. [They embrace] Hyatt: OK. I won’t call anyone down. SCP-8286: OK. Bye, hon. [Hyatt steps down the stairs and begins the walk to the world of the living] After much deliberation, and at the express request of Director Hyatt, Operations Orpheus and Persephone were cancelled indefinitely alongside any future attempts to reanimate SCP-8286. UPDATE: On January 13th, 2020, the first instance of SCP-8286-1 has been declared completely neutralised. Footnotes 1. A film camera, when active it can exactly recreate the form of a deceased subject into a projected copy, designated SCP-806-1 2. 58-year old Jonathan Barker, capable of healing the sick and injured by pressing on their foreheads. 3. DATA EXPUNGED PER O5-LEVEL DIRECTIVE. 4. A now neutralized humanoid that could take on the appearance and limited memories of a recently deceased loved one. 5. The fourth horseman of the apocalypse, Death. 6. Fade, fade away. 7. A shovel that allows one person to recover something they have lost, given they write their name onto its blade. Once used by personnel to revive their deceased daughter. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8286" by Sushimi, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8286. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8297 | safe | Cadavers within SCP-8297 do not decay. /* 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. 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; } } /* 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. 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; } } Item#: 8297 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo SCP-8297-1-21, London. SCP-8297-1-12, Izmir. Special Containment Procedures: Known instances of SCP-8297-1 are to be monitored for non-Foundation entry. As accidental civilian entry is impossible1 further containment is unnecessary. Description: SCP-8297 is a spherical pocket dimension roughly one kilometer in diameter, resembling a temperate North American rainforest. The environment of SCP-8297 differs from baseline forests in a number of ways: SCP-8297-1-34, Jerusalem. No living fauna2 is present within SCP-8297, despite the lush flora. The sky is perpetually overcast, and light rain falls intermittently. Cadavers within SCP-8297 do not decay. SCP-8297 is only accessible through a series of Ways in major cities around the globe, designated SCP-8297-1. SCP-8297-1 manifest on small paths in public parks, universally branching off from the main trails and leading deeper into the park itself. Documents found within SCP-8297 suggest that instances of SCP-8297-1 "admitted" certain individuals in their vicinity into the pocket dimension. Despite this, the anomaly has not demonstrated this property since containment began, hence its classification as "Safe". SCP-8297 was discovered shortly after the end of the Impasse, after local EVE scannings detected the manifestation of SCP-8297-1 instances. It is presumed that many of these Ways were rendered inert as a result of SCP-6500, and were restored following its conclusion. Mobile Task Force Alpha-48 ("First Responders"), alongside Dr. Wendy Silverman (Foundation Thaumaturge), performed initial assessment. Entrance was gained via SCP-8297-1-34 in Jerusalem. Addendum 8297.1 - Deceased Individuals Within SCP-8297 (Abridged): Name: Sa'ar Kesner Notes: Type Blue reality bender. Known member of Gamers Against Weed, under the alias "VenusianBird". Prior to the Impasse, possessed a remarkable affinity for conjuring Ways. Arrested multiple times during radical-left protests in Three Portlands, Backdoor Soho, Eurtec, and East Jerusalem. Subject’s phone contained remarkably little data in internal storage, and held no external memory card. Attached File: Voice message sent from subject's phone to GAW member "castatratatrophy" via private message. Hey, uh, Cass? I just wanted to, uh- god damnit. <Sharp breath.> Sorry, I'm really, really tired. I can't feel my legs, I don't know where I am- some forest-graveyard thing- I can't— I can't move. I— <Several deep breaths. Kesner's breathing stabilizes. Their voice grows calmer.> Listen. I don't have much time left. Everything's numb now, and I've got maybe a few hours before my lungs give up for good. It's alright, I'm not scared. There's just one thing I wanted to, well, tell you. I remember the day I met you. The UIU protest in 3Ports, you screamed your fucking heart out. I still remember how awed I was; it was my first time at a serious demonstration, and you were just so strong. <Twenty-four seconds of calm breaths> You're awesome in ways I genuinely can't put into words. You've got so much, fuck, sheer goodness in you it's mindblowing. And inspiring. I guess what I'm trying to say is I… I… <Deep breath, followed by a short pause.> I hoped I could say this to your face. But I wasn't brave enough, not like you. I love you, Cass. Goodbye. As there is no cellular reception within SCP-8297, Kesner's message was never delivered. Name: Dae'lin Vaishan Notes: Fae, resident of Eurtec. Amateur anomalous photographer, known for performing illegal street exhibits of their work. Vocally anti-GOC, opposing the organization's control of the city. Attached Files: Photographs recovered from Vaishan's camera. Memetic effects filtered out. Effect: Causes the viewer to briefly visualize a fire hydrant pumping water onto a sidewalk, while hearing a clock ticking. Effect: Causes the viewer to briefly visualize a concrete wall with a crack running through the middle. Subjects report being unable to breathe for 5-10 seconds. Effect: Causes the viewer to briefly visualize a handful of bullet casings spread out on concrete pavement. Slightly increases subject's heart rate for as long as they view the image. Name: William Hughes Notes: Member of a small sect of the Cogwork Orthodoxy based in Three Portlands, notable for its positive outlook on Nälkä faiths. Possesses extensive mechanical augmentation, replacing limbs, eyes, skin and multiple internal organs. Attached Files: Video feed recovered from Hughes' mechanical eyes. Due to the ocular augment's connection to the brain, descriptions differ from standard format. <Begin log> <The cyborg is lying on the wet earth, his back pressed to a tree trunk for support. A light drizzle peppers his metallic skin. The Impasse has rendered his body useless, save for his right eye.> <The eye rotates with clockwork rhythm. Left. Right. Up. Down. It scans the grove. The undergrowth is thick with grasses, roots and bushes, while the trees rise from the earth like ancient pillars. Aside from the rain, everything is deathly still.> <Left. Right. Up. Down.> <He ruminates on his fight. Hopeful speeches, given to young crowds in cramped spaces. Intimate talks behind closed doors. Metal hands shaking skin and bone. The movement was growing slowly, but they were making progress. And then came the Impasse.> <Left. Right. Up. Down.> <Movement. A flash of black feathers. A small bird lands on his knee. It opens its beak to chirp, though he cannot hear. It's beautiful.> <The eye closes.> Name: “Nobody” Notes: Member of the Serpent’s Hand. Participated in numerous raids on Foundation facilities in an attempt to breach containment of humanoid anomalies. Antimemetic properties have largely ceased, save for the subject's identity. Attached Files: Text document recovered from subject’s phone, dated 7/8/2021. Tired, so tired Years upon years of struggle But the cogs still turn Fighting for what’s right We tried to light the fires But the walls still stand Now, it takes its toll On myself, but the rest too Choked to death, snuffed out The bird, a black dove Watches over this graveyard Singing, does it mourn? Name: July Forester Notes: Former Prometheus Labs employee and Type Red ("Regenerator") reality bender. Defected to the Manna Charitable Foundation, where she worked for more than twenty years. Contained by the SCP Foundation for two months due to suspected ties to the Chaos Insurgency. Radical anti-Veil activist. Attached Files: Personal journal entry, believed to be written shortly before death. I am dying. This saddens me, but I am not as afraid as I thought I would be, using the last of my strength to write these words. Here, amongst the silent foliage and under the mourning sky, I am calm. Calm, and yet not content. These words will never reach you. A pity, I am rather proud of them all. It appears that fate has chosen the forest floor to be my deathbed. Or is it fate? There are others here around me. It seems that they too succumbed to exhaustion, and found themselves a comfortable trunk to lie against in their final moments. I have no doubt I will join them soon. And yet, I can't help but wonder… why? I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that my mind has remained that of a scientist, all these years later. What is this place? I remember how I got here, walking home alone through the park, my legs aching. I took my favored route, the quiet side path away from the cars and commotion. Then a shift, my knees buckling, and the rain. This place took me, of that I am certain. It was no accident. Why, then? There is no one here but the dead and the dying. Could it be trying to ease the Impasse’s victims into oblivion? Mother Nature’s final embrace? Perhaps. Certainly poetic, and this overwhelming tranquility might not be natural. Yet I’d much rather have died in my own bed, with you at my side, than alone in this strange forest. I’m sure many of the others are much the same. Is it malevolent then? Does it feed on us, drawing out what’s left of our magic to sustain itself in this twilight era? When I entered, I felt my exhaustion catch up to me in an instant, my head spinning. But I was barely walking in the first place, and it is very likely I would have met a similar end halfway home regardless. A bird has landed on my leg. It is small and black, and looks at me quizzically. Fascinating. It's singing. How beautiful. SCP-8297-1-5, Oslo. Addendum 8297.2 - Video Log: Foreword: During the initial survey of SCP-8297's geography, Dr. Silverman set up surveillance cameras in several key locations within the anomaly, per standard procedure. The following log was captured while she and the two accompanying agents from MTF-A48 were still within SCP-8297, roughly 500 meters west. <Begin log.> <Camera is mounted on a low-hanging tree branch, displaying a view of a small clearing. The corpse of Sa'ar Kesner ("VenusianBird") is seen slumped against a tree. Light rain falls through the canopies.> <A Way opens, filling the clearing with bright green light. A figure with long black hair steps out, and the Way closes. Facial recognition software identifies ver as Cassandra Bloom (“castatratatrophy”) of Gamers Against Weed.> <Ve notices Kesner's corpse, and rushes towards it.> Bloom: Sa'ar! Are you… <Ve trails off as ve crouches down next to the body, putting ver hand to its face, then its chest.> <Bloom slams ver fist into the earth. Ve stands up and kicks a nearby tree, again and again, cursing loudly. The words "jailor" and "fascist" are heard. After a few seconds, ve stumbles, falls to ver knees, and screams.> Transcription Note: At this point in time, the assessment team overheard Bloom's scream, and began to move toward ver location. <Bloom pauses at the sound of flapping wings. SCP-8297-A flies into view, landing on Kesner's body. It chirps, tilting its head at ver, and opens its beak.> SCP-8297-A: [COGNITOHAZARDOUS AUDIO EXPUNGED] Bloom: What— who's— I don't understand. SCP-8297-A: [COGNITOHAZARDOUS AUDIO EXPUNGED] Bloom: I—I can't go on like this. I just can't. SCP-8297-A: [COGNITOHAZARDOUS AUDIO EXPUNGED] Bloom: I can't leave them here! <Bloom's eyes are visibly watering. Ve rises to ver feet shakily. The bird continues to sing, louder now. The feed distorts briefly.> Bloom: Oh. I get it. I'll… I'll try. <SCP-8297-A goes silent, and flies off. Bloom steps towards the body, holding out ver palm. Black sparks flicker into being around the corpse, arcing across its skin and clothes. They dance to ver palm, coalescing and solidifying into a small object. Ve clutches it tightly and runs.> <A Way is opened and swiftly closed. Foundation personnel arrive at the scene. Everything is still.> <End log.> ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8297" by UNCGriffin, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8297. 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: RedCropped.jpeg Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: GreenCropped Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: Lamposts in the Dark.jpg Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: Misty.JPG Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: RedLeaves.jpeg Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: Sunset.jpg Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin's sister. Filename: The Green.jpeg Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: The Twist.jpeg Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: TwistCropped Author: UNCGriffin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by UNCGriffin. Filename: Yam.jpg Author: SuperMeat License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by SuperMeat. Filename: KothPathcropped.jpg Author: Kothardarastrix License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Additional notes: Image photographed by Kothardarastrix. Footnotes 1. All Ways require a specific thaumic ritual to open, known as a Knock, which civilians cannot perform without prior knowledge. 2. Except for SCP-8297-A. |
SCP-8299 | neutralized | Remember us. SCP-8299 Byㅤ Spacestealth Published on 30 Apr 2024 15:56 SCP-8299 TRUE NORTH STRONG AND FREE By Spacestealth & Lt Flops Published on 30 Apr 2024 This article is part of the forthcoming Weaving Imperceptible Threads Continuity Hub ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} . 17 SCP-8299 SCP Series IX » SCP-8299 SCP Database Entry ITEM: SCP-8299 LEVEL 2/8299 CLASS: neutralized restricted DISRUPTION CLASS: 1/dark ACCESS MODULE RETRACT MODULE A cetological research and surveillance team is attached to SCP-8299. The newly completed James Bay Monitoring Station and its residence and storage facilities have been established at the mouth of the Attawapiskat River in northern Ontario, Canada, forming Intermediary Site-99. It is and shall remain the team hub of operations. The adoption of open containment policies towards SCP-8299 is preferred to maintain its symbiotic relationship with the ecology of James Bay. To this end, SCP-8299 has been placed under the protection of the Canada Wildlife Act, and its hunting prohibited. Foundation cetologists at Intermediary Site-99 shall continue exercising routine parleys with SCP-8299 layleaders twice per year. Normal diplomatic dialogue is observed in February and August. Given the well-established shortcomings of documenting interviews in which one or more parties communes via thought-transference, one-on-one interviews must be conducted by way of the Gunnarsdotter.In which human interlocutors transcribe what is transmitted to them before responding in turn. Developed by Sissela Gunnarsdotter, a 19th century Swedish Special Affairs attaché and ethnologist. or Shiravadakar.In which human interlocutors are cleared to microdose mnestic drugs during interactions to coordinate later transcription. Named after Foundation parachemist Jitendra Shiravadakar. methods for correspondence with telepaths. In order to cover up the origin of the SONG OF SORROW, The Foundation has fabricated an urban legend detailing an anomalous spirit who walks around Northern Canada, screaming in pain. This legend has been intentionally disseminated among local descendants of settler-colonists and does not target regional indigenous populations. It has proven 80% effective over past initiatives at reducing the risk that civilians will encounter SCP-8299. RETRACT MODULE None needed. Physiological Data The average adult member of the SCP-8299 subspecies measures 3.9–4.8 metres in length and weighs 550–1 000 kg. It is most morphologically similar to the Florida manatee, albeit with a thick layer of blubber and higher metabolic rate to weather the colder seasonal temperatures. Physiological deviations from its Florida cousin occur within the forward part of its body and face. Each member bears flippers with distinct digits, opposable thumbs, and fine motor control, and an enlarged, flattened cranium. For insight into the SONG OF SORROW Event, consult the Addenda Materials. SCP-8299 SCP-8299 instances. SCP-8299 is an anomalous subspecies of manatee taxonified as the True Northern manatee (T. m. semperiam). SCP-8299 live throughout the James Bay region of the northernmost part of Ontario, Canada. Most members of its subspecies populate the brackish waters surrounding Akimiski Island, Nunavut, placing the extent of the subspecies’ habitat at longitudes much further north than all other extant manatee..Roughly 1500 km further northward than the range of its closest counterpart, the Florida manatee (T. m. latirostris). SCP-8299 are demonstrably sapient. Most SCP-8299 exhibit passive fluency in one or more human languages (in descending frequency: dialectal Cree, English, French, Ojibwe, and Inuktitut) but are not verbally conversant. Rather, SCP-8299 communicate via an anomalous form of echolocation akin to telepathy. A minority population within the Akimiski group can freely understand higher-level human concepts, express them with clarity, and commit them to long-term memory. Coinciding with its open containment by The Foundation, however, the average intelligence of the collective populations has seen a steady increase; the number of capables has also progressively increased and become a larger proportion of the whole. Adult SCP-8299 instances perform vocalizations similar to whalesong. These vocalizations are most present during the SCP-8299 mating season, which occurs between March and mid-May. The anomalous properties of SCP-8299 manifest in the physiological and psychological effects their songs have on their local ecology. Humans who are exposed to SCP-8299 songs report feelings of elation alongside increased speed and soundness of decision-making. Depressive humans specifically have reported a clarity of thought, greater motivation to complete tasks, and greater degrees of socialization. Humans who take a hostile disposition towards SCP-8299 — such as hunters, who pursue SCP-8299 for their fat and hides — are afforded headaches, migraines, nausea, vertigo, dyspepsia, and general malaise. SCP-8299 exist in harmony with their marine environment; their song has marked positive effects on the surrounding waters and shoreline. The long-term presence of SCP-8299 in James Bay after completing their migration has cleansed pollutants in the bay on the whole, creating and sustaining conditions that result in water clarity. Their skin absorbs contaminants that come into contact with their pelage. SCP-8299 have a symbiotic relationship with lakebed kelp in particular, promoting the growth of kelp forests in an ecology that otherwise lacks in the plant. Marine wildlife populations experience less negative health outcomes than their terrestrial neighbours, and live longer on average. Marine biologists believe the climactic and marine conditions of James Bay should be inhospitable to manatee. Local populations of settler-colonial descent claim no knowledge of T. m. semperiam. ADDENDA MATERIALS Addendum 8299.I Phenomenological Overview Arrival of SCP-8299 and Initial Interactions With First Nations Communities The origin of SCP-8299 is still widely debated, but the following is considered most plausible. SCP-8299 is theorized to be closely related to SCP-327, a species of anomalous manatee capable of human speech. Because of infighting and the struggles of daily life, it is theorized that a select herd of manatee migrated north from the Gulf of Mexico circa 500 BCE. Although oceanic temperatures in the North Atlantic proved harsh to the subtropical manatee, most instances survived and reached the James Bay region. The local population ultimately settled here in part because of its relative isolation and rich habitat. For generations, SCP-8299 and regional indigenous populations engaged in periodic interactions. A number of mutual traditions were observed, including various songs and dances. SCP-8299 had a thriving culture, reaching its peak population in 1470 CE before gradually decreasing. They commonly lived a nomadic lifestyle, moving around the region every few months so as to ensure an adequate supply of food. Below is an interview conducted and transcribed in 1932, shortly after The Foundation acquired control over the SCP-8299 project..The Shiravadakar method had not yet been developed. TEXT LOG [ BEGIN LOG ] SCP-8299 Hm. Different organization, same goals. I remember what your predecessors did to us. Now that you've united, nothing will change. DR. RAMA It's different now; we won't repeat the mistakes of the past. Times have changed. The SCP-8299 instance scoffs. SCP-8299 Maybe. At least the locals treated us nicely, like the Cree. What do you even want from us? DR. RAMA Right now, we want to know more about your origins so we can study your anomalous traits. SCP-8299 Barely remember it; it's almost been wiped out by the greed of humanity. Pause. Fine. But I only remember faint remnants of what my ancestors told me about it. We lived relatively nicely, just us and the warm seas of the gulf. Nothing to worry about except which fish tasted the best. Much warmer. Those times were better. Well, at least until the conflict. DR. RAMA The conflict? SCP-8299 We started to grow differently from the main group — what you call 327. Small changes, but over time it grew so much that we started to become our own group. The others finally decided to kick us out, and we had to leave. Wasn't easy. Some people wanted to stay. It noticeably frowns. SCP-8299 Fighting erupted between the two sides. Too many died on both sides. In the end, we just had to move on; it could no longer work. My parents told me this story. I can still see the pain from their eyes when they said it. Wish it never happened. Worst part is, if they knew what would happen after, they would've stayed. DR. RAMA I'm sorry for you, I really am. Please continue. SCP-8299 We started to go north, see who would take us in. Unfortunately, no one ever did, so we kept going. The coldness was brutal, but we persisted, no matter what. After so long we finally made it to this region, where we settled down. DR. RAMA Makes sense. And then you started interacting with the First Nations? SCP-8299 Correct. They actually respected us, unlike some people. For hundreds of years, that was it: quiet and simple, but nice. DR. RAMA Well, thank you for your time. We'll chat again soon. The SCP-8299 instance sighs. SCP-8299 What happened after — the memory is horror. [ END LOG ] The SCP-8299 instance could not be located for the next decade. No further instances could be identified as layleaders during this period, and several other instances expressed refusal to communicate with Foundation personnel. The Department for the Study and Catalogue of Especially Quaint Furbearers (DSCEQF) A Canadian Foundation precursor and arm of the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC). The Department operated with nearly limitless reach for almost 200 years, until the British Crown negotiated the transference of Rupert's Land from the HBC to the Dominion of Canada in 1870. Its expansive catalogue and unique methods of restraining and trapping cryptid species were recovered by The Foundation sometime in the early 20th century. Most items in its catalogue were later recaptured and relocated to Provisional Site-43. Colonial Interactions With SCP-8299 The Department for the Study and Catalogue of Especially Quaint Furbearers (DSCEQF) made the first documented observations of SCP-8299 in 1827. Their discovery was not the Department's first activity in the region. In the mid-1600s, the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC) came to establish one of its earliest fur trading posts in the region, further down the coast from Akimiski Island. This post, Fort Albany, had to be relocated multiple times as a result of conflict with the French. In 1708, it was secretly relocated once again — this time, the DSCEQF moved in and used the new location as a fixture at the fringe of its operations. Its then-base of operations existed much further inland. This secret move provided the DSCEQF narrow escape from the Battle of Fort Albany, on 26 June 1709, at the premises of the fort's former location. During this time, the DSCEQF frequently hunted and exterminated the local wildlife population, leading to the extinction of many species, both mundane and anomalous. Concurrently, the British perpetrated the wide-scale suppression of First Nations cultures. The DSCEQF wiped out large SCP-8299 habitats and forced them to assimilate, further destroying the SCP-8299 population. Many members of SCP-8299 were forced into slavery in and around Department outposts. The DSCEQF initially made use of SCP-8299 for their fur and bodily materials. The British government fully supported this move, and provided cover stories for decades. During this time, over 90% of the SCP-8299 population was wiped out. The following is an interview from 1953, using the Gunnarsdotter method. The SCP-8299 instance from the first interview log approached Intermediary Site-99 and asked to converse with Foundation personnel. ANNOTATED AUDIO LOG [ BEGIN LOG ] SCP-8299 Been a while since I've been here. Rama, you look the same as 30 years ago. DR. RAMA Nevermind; we've been looking for you so long. You never came back for the second interview. SCP-8299 And I still don't want to. I came back to see if you were better than before, and I don't know. The point is, we just want to be left alone. DR. RAMA Times are changing more and more. Anyway, now that you are here, we want to ask you more questions. SCP-8299 Let me guess, the DSC? There is so much pain, so much cruelty with them. There are no words to describe it. DR. RAMA I understand your pain; this is common in this part of the world. SCP-8299 They used our fur for their coats and ate us for meat. Our population decreased exponentially, never recovered. There wasn't even a chance of escape as they kept us imprisoned. My family died. It took a long time for things to get better, felt like it would never end. DR. RAMA And this is where the Song of Sorrow came from, correct? SCP-8299 Yes. Our song that we developed from the toils from our labour. It's been passed down from generation to generation. DR. RAMA We're sorry for the actions of our predecessors. SCP-8299 Apologies are useless. They need to be backed up with actions. We will never reach the same population peak as before, but I want our people to survive. We don't want any kind of special treatment; all we want is to be left alone and treated like normal people. DR. RAMA Well, thanks for that. I'll see you sometime later. SCP-8299 Goodbye, I'll be back in a few years to see. [ END LOG ] The Revolution of Fire During the late 1860s, SCP-8299 became increasingly restless in their plight. Unfair treatment and lack of adequate food prompted an underground group to form. This group, calling themselves the Peace Fighters, gradually gained members who launched protests. They advocated for an end to their slavery by any means necessary. Despite suppressive campaigns on the part of the DSCEQF, the Peace Fighters grew to encompass a large majority of the SCP-8299 population. This reached a boiling point in early 1870 when a large revolt broke out, known as the Revolution of Fire. Large numbers of SCP-8299 instances defended themselves against human attackers. In several engagements, members of nearby First Nations communities aided SCP-8299 instances in destroying DSCEQF outposts. Eventually, the Revolution of Fire succeeded and the DSCEQF gradually retreated from the area. That same year, the British Crown negotiated the transfer of Rupert's Land from the HBC to the Dominion of Canada, and the DSCEQF disbanded. Scores of humans and SCP-8299 instances were killed, the latter causing a sharp decrease in the already small SCP-8299 population. This interview was conducted in 1975 by Dr. Rama. By this time, interactions with SCP-8299 were commonplace and tensions had lowered. However, there still remained some tensions when The Foundation discovered a Way. WAY An anomalous connection between two locations, enabling rapid travel regardless of distance. Ways can facilitate travel into other realities, including The Wanderer's Library. within the territory of SCP-8299. ANNOTATED AUDIO LOG [ BEGIN LOG ] SCP-8299 Hello again. Been a while since we've done one of these interviews. DR. RAMA There's been renewed interest in the project recently. SCP-8299 Because of the Way? DR. RAMA Correct. We want to know more about it and where it came from. SCP-8299 It's always been there, as far as I know. We've never been inside, even in the darkest of times. It's a window to another world. A potentially better one. The promise of one, anyhow. DR. RAMA I'll see if we can leave it with your people, then. How are the other members doing? SCP-8299 There aren't many of them now. They've died out. Soon, we won't exist anymore. Silence. DR. RAMA I'm sorry. We can still fight this. SCP-8299 You know, I never told you about the end of our story. The Revolution of Fire. We got sick of our overlords, so we overthrew them. Pause. Many perished. There's a reason for the name: there was fire all around the land. Everyone died. Everyone, except myself and a few others; we all died. DR. RAMA I wish it never had to happen. SCP-8299 When we first came across the DSC, many of us did see a brief glimmer of hope. Such false hope. We had a complete reverse understanding of what they were sent here to do. I still sometimes fantasize over what could have happened if we all got along peacefully, but I know better now. That is not the way of our world. [ END LOG ] Following this, Intermediary Site-99 endeavoured to develop a better relationship with SCP-8299 by formalizing regular dialogues. These dialogues resulted in the loosening of Special Containment Procedures. Modern-Day Observations Following the dissolution of DSCEQF, SCP-8299 enjoyed relative freedom. However, they still suffered from sharp food shortages caused by overfishing in an unregulated fishing market. The population continued to plummet until an average of 50 instances remained year-round. In 1930, 60 years after the initial revolt, The Foundation received a high volume of reports describing an ethereal-sounding song heard along the shoreline of the Hudson and James Bays. Occupants of shallow-water fishing vessels contributed the majority of reports. The Foundation discovered SCP-8299 during the summer of that year. Although interactions between The Foundation and SCP-8299 initially proved tense, both parties eventually settled on a secrecy agreement. Only minimal containment was observed thereafter. Foundation forces monitored the region for the next 70 years and exercised a non-disruptive relationship with SCP-8299. As of 2000, only one living member of SCP-8299 remained. The final interview conducted with SCP-8299 in which it asked to meet with Dr. Rama personally. ANNOTATED AUDIO LOG [ BEGIN LOG ] SCP-8299 Good evening, Dr. Rama. I asked you here for a very important reason. DR. RAMA What's the problem? SCP-8299 Listen here, I believe I don't have much time left. I have seen all my friends and family gradually fade away. The same will happen to me, and our species will be completely extinct. DR. RAMA I'm sure there is— We can stop this, there has to be a way. SCP-8299 Do not fight fate, my friend. It comes for all of us. Even you will die eventually, and sooner than you think. Anomalous drugs won't keep you immortal forever. DR. RAMA So, what? It's all pointless? SCP-8299 You of all people should know. Lives have a meaning. Our purpose is to better our successors just as our ancestors did for us. I have lived over 150 years, and never did my family stop fighting for the future, for me and all of us. They never gave up. So we could survive. DR. RAMA I… I guess you're right, I never thought about it that much. SCP-8299 You know, after all these years, I never told you my name. For 68 years I've just been known as that SCP-8299 instance. DR. RAMA What is it? SCP-8299 My name is Nivi, after my grandfather. Silence. SCP-8299 The Way is gone. Dissipated over time. It's just me here now; no one else except you and this research site. I'm glad I got to enjoy this life, that despite the horrors we used to face, it's all over. I got to relax and have fun and appreciate so much beauty. Despite all of your misdoings, I don't believe man is bad. I believe that you can change, and that there is good within you. I want you to succeed. But never forget me, nor my people. We are a reminder. DR. RAMA I understand. It all makes sense now, thank you for everything. Even if I don't make it very much longer, I'll make sure the rest of us understand your mission. SCP-8299 Thank you. I wish some of my species would have survived to see the new world. Maybe some day, far away. Maybe our Song of Sorrow will play out one final time. I'll be looking from the heavens at you and your organization. I wish you luck. Maybe you and all of man will finally see the light. [ END LOG ] Several hours later, Nivi expired from natural causes. SCP-8299 was officially redesignated as NEUTRALIZED. Later that day, Dr. Rama Navin passed away at the age of 100 years, 4 months, and 26 days. SCP-8299 was awarded an honorary Foundation Star. Addendum 8299.II SONG OF SORROW Event The SONG OF SORROW The SONG OF SORROW was an anomalous event recurring periodically around the Hudson Bay region. It was characterized by sustained cries coming from SCP-8299 and could be heard in a radius spanning tens of kilometres. It originally took the form of a song developed during the slavery of SCP-8299, passing from generation to generation until the modern day. The song also featured lyrics, albeit rarely. VEILBURST Protocol was enacted on 26 April 2020; the Veil of Normality was forcibly dissolved. Immediately following this, reports in and around the Hudson Bay region characterized a widespread melody consistent with the SONG OF SORROW, despite SCP-8299 having been neutralized 20 years previously. The event lasted for several minutes before gradually quieting. The Foundation, deeming the extranormal event a one-time occurrence, conducted no further investigation. Below is a list of lyrics heard during the event. Oh, the work is hard but the sun is shining, Our bodies are pushed to exhaustion, many do not survive, Despite this, we keep singing, 'Cause one day, our children will still be alive. Maybe one day it'll all be okay, That day, We'll all celebrate the peaceful moon watching over us, With nothing to fuss, But we'll have to wait, As our labour continues on. It's a beautiful day outside, Yet we're denied, But we'll carry on, Our culture will not be destroyed, And eventually, we will be overjoyed. There is hope, a light at the end of the tunnel, One day, I hope man will see their mistakes, And learn, so there will be no more trouble, Then we won't have to hide in the lakes, We'll be able to live quietly, peacefully, like we did. Just not yet, as we still have to live in fear. But for now, we'll persist, We'll keep surviving, Keep living our lives, So our story won't be forgotten. splay: no Sunset over Hudson Bay, 26 April 2020. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8299" by Stealth000 & Lt Flops, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8299. 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: manatee.jpg Name: Endangered Florida manatee (Trichechus manatus) Author: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Headquarters License: Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) Source Link: Flickr Name: Hudson bay sunset Canada Author: Gerald Ludwig, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons |
SCP-8300 | safe | We died in the dark, we- we kept them in the dark, so you could live in the light. We won’t let their memory stay in the dark forever. ThatGuyThatTime They’ll be buried in the light. Written for the SCP-8000 contest! More by ThatGuy MESSAGE FROM THE FOUNDATION'S RECORDKEEPING DEPARTMENT Hello! Thank you for coming to The Foundation - whether you're attending within Las Vegas, Lake Huron, or a "City of Portland", we're honored to have you joining us. The following is a brief digital information package, distributed to all guests upon entry. If you're looking to up your digital experience of The Foundation, O4 Membership Passes are available at the front kiosk. Once again, thank you for spending an hour, three, a day, or for some, your lives with The Foundation. Memories weren't meant to be forgotten, and we'll make sure it stays that way. — Maria Jones, Director of Museum Recordkeeping. OPEN DIGITAL VISITORS PACKAGE? THANK YOU FOR VISITING THE FOUNDATION. Mankind must not go back to hiding in fear. No one else will protect us, and we must stand up for ourselves. - Francis "Fritz" Williams, Founder and Administrator of The Foundation. We must not fade. - Unknown. EXHIBIT#: 8300 LEVEL0 OPEN FORMER FORMER SECONDARY CLASS: archon FORMER DISRUPTION CLASS: dark FORMER RISK CLASS: notice link to memo Item#: {$item-number} Level1 Containment Class: {$container-class} Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo The Foundation of Northern Ontario, prior to SCP-8300. SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES:1 Due to the presumed completion of SCP-8300, no further containment procedures will be required. All Foundation personnel are to report to their nearest Human Resources liaison for further instructions post-restructuring. DESCRIPTION:2 SCP-8300 is the complete and instantaneous cessation of all anomalous phenomena on December 31st, 2023. This comes to fruition in different ways depending on the kind of anomaly being affected. For example: Anomalous entities whose anomalous properties are central to their existence perish or otherwise vanish from baseline reality. Anomalous entities with anomalous capabilities not central to their existence lose said abilities. Anomalous objects lose their properties or cease to exist entirely. Anomalous locations lose their properties, cease to exist, or slowly regress into an alternate, "normal" form.3 Anomalous events cease occurrence. Currently, the reason for SCP-8300 is unknown, as is whether the effect of the anomaly is permanent. Due to this unprecedented development, insight from the remainder of several GOIs, and a unanimous vote from the Overseer Council, it was decided to enact an intentional "XK-Class Broken Masquerade" scenario. Restructuring of the SCP Foundation into "The Foundation Museum for Anomalous History" is ongoing. I can't say nobody ever expected it. People across all wakes of life in the Foundation have proposed a theoretical end to the anomalous before. We've peered into other universes, seen how things could have gone down, and in most, there's some kind of solution. This time, not so much. I was in Alpha Command when it happened, during the yearly conference with the O5s I'm glad to be leaving behind. The benefit of being a trusted member of staff is that you get entrusted with an annual reminder of purely how much work you do, and how much work is left. I was just in the middle of showing the Accounting Department's budget report, when… a phone rings. Then another. Then another. Then, in the most terrifying turn of events you can imagine happening in a hierarchical organization like ours, O5-3 shorts out. O5-2 literally fades away from existence. One by one, overseers popped out of this universe as if they'd never even been there; I think the only ones left by the end of it were 4 and 12. Well, and the corpse of 13, if you can count it. You can imagine that typical procedure was ignored given the circumstances, not hiring any new O5s, but… ah. When we picked up the phones, we could tell it wasn't going to be worth it. Maria Jones, Director of Museum Recordkeeping, Former Director of RAISA. To all remaining Foundation personnel, the Overwatch Command — all 2 of us — would like to extend our deepest condolences to all those who lost friends, loved ones, family, and other coworkers in the wake of SCP-8300. Due to the suddenness of this event, all employees have been granted optional indefinite leave as they handle the ever-changing world. Those who would like to remain with us in The Foundation, and yes, there is a choice, will be joining the ranks of our new and changed organization. As a result of SCP-8300, millions of anomalous people and animals have been lost worldwide. Entire cultures have vanished, with few left to carry their memory. In a unanimous vote, we have decided this cannot stand. We are, sans for the now-inaccessible Library of the Serpent, the largest database of anomalous information and history in the known world. It is our duty to carry this into the light we protected for so long, and not let fantasy fade into obscurity. Your new roles within this museum will be available to you upon your return, from your nearest Human Resources liaison. If you choose to stay with us, thank you. If you don't, please don't forget the world you're leaving behind. Long gone are the days of secrecy and experiments, here are the quiet days of preservation and remembrance. EXHIBITION #: 001734 EXHIBITION TITLE:5 "THE ORIGINAL / THE STATUE" 00173 LOCATION: The Foundation of Denver, Colorado (Formerly Site-19). DESCRIPTION: EXB-00173 is a statue, crafted by former anomalous artist Mortimer Fortue, and composed of concrete, rebar, and a motley of colored spray paints. Formerly, EXB-00173 was incredibly hostile towards anyone who blinked while looking at it, attempting to snap their necks. As one of the original exhibitions catalogued by The Foundation in 1915, EXB-00173 is presented with legacy status in a personal exhibition, featuring other artist's interpretations of the open-ended statue. Guests are requested to not physically touch the exhibition, for the sake of their own personal hygiene. After all these years, all of these measurements, all the people we through into the line of sight to block out theirs, the way we learn about SCP-8300 at Site-19? Before any of the other facilities watched their gods fall out or their nexuses snap shut like a flytrap, what was the first thing that hit us? The peanut stops shitting. For 2 hours, the weight scales we installed in there don't change. After hour 3, we send a D-Class to check in on the thing. Poor guy blinks, we all brace for impact, and… nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. Hour 4, the phones start hitting Foundation-wide. Pandemonium hits, and I get to learn through a pile of feces. That and my third eye disappearing, but the shit really hammered it in. I'm going to miss the sanctity of this fucking place. God. What a world. Alto Clef, Director of Weapon Archives, Denver, Colorado, Former Director of Applied Response. The following is a reduced transcript from the announcement of The Foundation's opening. A crowd of reporters surround a table where O5-12, O5-4, HR Director Stanford Li, and Site-19 Director Tilda Moose are seated. The conference room is buzzing with confusion as O5-12 speaks. O5-12: And so, from the inception of our organization, the SCP Foundation was dedicated to securing the anomalous, containing that we couldn't understand, and protecting the public. So, you. Over 100 years of this, and- The reporters begin flinging questions at the table. O5-12 raises his hand, silencing them. O5-12: I know, I know, you have your questions. Trust me, I did too when I got promoted here. A reporter from CNN interrupts. Reporter: Sir, I need to know, but who exactly are you? O5-12: I… I thought I addressed that at the beginning. My name is O5-12. Reporter: That sounds like a designation, more than a name. Murmurs of agreement from the crowd. O5-12 looks to the people on his side: they shrug, almost defeatedly. O5-4: Not like it matters much now. O5-12: Ah. Hah, I guess… yeah, I guess there's not much hiding it anymore. Hello, then, world. My name is Anton Radu, and I hold- or, I should say held the office of O5-12 for 5 years. I was nicknamed the "Archaeologist" and the "Normalist" by my peers, and to all the personnel of Site-18 watching this, I'm sorry for my… my disappearance. Radu is silent for a moment. Overseer Anton Radu. A. Radu: And that's the thing about all of it, really. The secrecy, the collusion with governments, the deception, and the risks taken- god, it wasn't even exclusive to our outer relations. You can tell, just from that, that the secrets were in between us as well. Radu stands up. A. Radu: But it was all for a reason. We told ourselves it was for a reason, a justified reason, so we kept it going for as long as we possibly could. Not just for security, or our own protection, but because in the eyes of our founders, the worlds of fantasy and normality couldn't mix. For either of their sake, it was seen as too dangerous. A. Radu: With such immense resources placed in our hands, there was- there was an implied duty, a trust we had to hold. With that trust comes power, and with that power comes mistakes and power-trips, yes, and I cannot justify a lot of what we've done, but it was seen as a necessity. That's why I lied to my friends and family, for example, for 5 years that I wasn't dead. I missed out on… I missed out on 3 funerals for all of this. A. Radu: The anomalous was our dedication, consequences of intentions aside. Radu is silent. He sighs, lowers his head for a moment, and takes a deep breath. Moose and Li shuffle in their seats uncomfortably. A. Radu: But now, it's gone. All of it, within a matter of moments, vanished. Every memetic shield we put in place, every object imbued with the concept of "pure evil", every goddamn matrix machine we built, they… they vanished. Blink of an eye, everything the SCP Foundation stood for, reduced to ashes. Not even ashes, actually. For some, it was as if they'd never even been there. A. Radu: We spent a long time debating what to do. Many of our best scientists, the ones who survived, tried to formulate a plan to kickstart the anomalous again. The problem was, most of our creative solutions to major problems like this… well, they involved anomalous concepts. They required us to access something conventional science just couldn't do. Magic… magic was gone, and seemingly forever. A. Radu: We reached a conclusion, though, eventually. That's what any of you out here who didn't secretly know about the anomalous world are here for, anyway. It was a pretty reasonable one, and it… it's been viewed as the best option going forward. We don't know why SCP-8300 — that's what the file in my hand this whole time has been — happened, so- so nobody knows if we can fix it. A. Radu: But we've adapted before. Sure, to lesser gods and weaker beasts, but the SCP Foundation is nothing if not permeable throughout challenges. With the remaining resources and all the remains we have, and the history we hold… it felt appropriate. Li clicks to the next slide. A. Radu: I'd like to introduce the world to The Foundation, Museum for Anomalous History. Open for operations worldwide within the next year. Radu sighs. A. Radu: We died in the dark, we- we kept them in the dark, so you could live in the light. A. Radu: We won’t let their memory stay in the dark forever. EXHIBITION #: 07939 EXHIBITION TITLE: "KHAZI" LOCATION: The Foundation of Northern Ontario (Formerly Site-37). 07939 DESCRIPTION: EXB-07939 was a toilet going by the name of "Khazi" possessing sapience, sentience, the capability for verbal communication, and a distinct interest in anti-human violence. Prior to SCP-8300, EXB-07939 was the leader of an anti-human revolutionary Group of Interest6 named "The New Whirled Order", which killed at least 500 people during their assault against the Foundation. Despite his diminutive stature, EXB-07939 was, during his reign as the leader of the New Whirled Order, considered one of the SCP Foundation's biggest threats. Further information regarding Khazi, the New Whirled Order, and the related conflict can be found in the newly installed gallery "The Appliance War: Ceramic and Blood", located in Hall A of the Northern Ontario location. It was the strangest thing. I wasn't born or raised a soldier. Intentionally avoided military service, and really shied away from the concept itself entirely. My dad, he came from that kind of background, and he knew what it did to a person. He wasn't one to force his trauma on me, thank god. Unfortunately, though, I did end up caught in a war. Spent years mulling away at the Foundation, doing grunt work and climbing up the corporate ladder, getting promoted to the definition of a "technically meaningful job" at Site-37, trying to pull a department together after years of neglect, and boom. A toilet explodes on our doorstep. Then three more explode across the eastern seaboard. By 2 weeks in, our organization has to implement a Foundation-wide ban on toilets. Microwaves start to turn up to the maximum heat. A blender… what the blender did isn't worth repeating for this, even if I could. I think the younger ones started calling it the "Appliance War". I was never huge on the idea, myself, but I was too occupied in a newfound promotion to "Director of Appliance Response" — an insane position to get promoted to, mind you — to think too hardly about it. At least someone was having fun, and hey, I think we all laughed at him too. "Khazi". Ethel told me it was a British slang term for a toilet, but you couldn't convince me that the little freak of a toilet didn't invent the word himself, as some kind of horrible foreshadowing for what was to come. God. Sorry, I just really, really hate that toilet. In retrospect, and this is a commonly shared opinion among the regular folks — mostly the ones who never saw the consequences of what the "Appliance War" yielded — the titular appliances were probably right. Sure, we never knew that they were living, technically breathing, for-sure-feeling creatures, but we always could have asked. Especially us at the Foundation, we should have seen it coming, and in all honestly, we would have heard him out. But Khazi, ha, he was not the guy they should have had representing them if they wanted to be heard out reasonably. There's something admirable in fighting against oppression, obviously so, but Khazi wasn't in it for them. He never was. We did extensive research into his background. Wouldn't you believe it, a toilet had disappeared from Alpha Command only 3 years prior, matching the exact description of the little bastard. Even more digging, and we traced his steps everywhere, from the shady backrooms dealing to the indiscriminate disposal of the forces he deemed weaker, or as he put it, "not worth fighting for". I don't think there was much sympathy for him specifically, maybe the occasional jab from Mayfield about him being a "twink" — whatever that means — but after all this, I can tell you there was nothing. So it was the strangest thing, watching him fly down from atop his bidet-fortress, scepter in hand, army of flying sinks and toilets and microwaves descending upon Site-37, delivering his speech about the "fruitlessness of man", landing upon the ground in front of me, pointing what was essentially a loaded gun at me, when… He stopped. For the first time in all the time I've known Khazi, he stopped talking. The scepter dropped to the ground, the bidet fortress thing fell down, and the forest outside of our facility went quiet. Certainly not the weirdest way a war has been won, I guess. I don't think anyone will miss him, per se, but I think we'll miss the others. We never properly got a chance to work things out. Emmett Fenton, Director of General Museum Affairs, Northern Ontario, Former Director of General Research. PROJECT MEMORIUM PROPOSALS As a result of SCP-8300, any remaining SCP Foundation personnel are free to submit exhibition suggestions / obituary ideas / ideas for the handling of anomalies that were under their jurisdiction. Please add them to the following list for Museum Director's Review. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7630 All instances of SCP-7630, upon further medical inspections of infected subjects, were found to have vanished. Curiously, all subjects who did not terminate as a result of SCP-7630's disappearance uttered the words "We're sorry" upon reawakening. PROPOSAL An education exhibition regarding SCP-7630 has been added to the C. Ube Flickerman Memorial Museum for Anomalous Diseases, located in Minneapolis, Minnesota. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! Beyond those who've passed, the remaining patients have been making a steady recovery. I don't think it was likely to survive these things, but I'm glad to know it was possible - Dr. Alex Lambert, Foundation Medical Facility. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-6289 The .exe file containing SCP-6289 was found to be empty, with the exception of a single, previously unseen .txt file, containing the following message: "I PROTECTED AVAST WHILE I COULD.". Attempting to execute the file no longer damages the computer storing it. PROPOSAL The .exe file is to be added to a digital terminal available at all Foundation locations, alongside the rest of the formerly digital anomalies in an online gallery titled "THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRA". STATUS NOTES APPROVED! I fucking hated that goddamn wizard. I'll miss him. - Tianna Mark Roseanne, Exhibition Scouting Department. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-6664 The SCP-6664 account vanished the instant SCP-8300 occurred. All plant life left behind by the anomaly has continued to exist, to the surprise of The Foundation, sans their anomalous properties. PROPOSAL Outdoor Foundation installations have been constructed around each of the remaining plants left by the anomaly. Visitors will be encouraged to learn about the history of plant evolution, deforestation, and natural disasters via information posted around the exhibitions. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! Hope it was beautiful. - Charles Wendover, Botanist. EXHIBITION #: 07574 EXHIBITION TITLE: "CONSTRUCTION" LOCATION: The Foundation of Gary, Indiana (Formerly Site-18). Photograph 07574 DESCRIPTION: Photograph 07574 is one of the many components of the "Touching the Stars: A History of Anomalous Space Travel" gallery located in The Foundation, Gary. Pictured is the construction of the space-traveling anomalously propelled locomotive pod that was part of the "STARLAUNCH INITIATIVE", which would later go on to be a joint non-anomalous project worked on between the Foundation's researcher branch7 and NASA. Though initially referred to as 7574-2-MK2, the pod was eventually renamed the "SS-BARTLEMAN" by the request of the Gary, Indiana Foundation staff, following a unanimous vote. We're going to miss you, Richard. Anton Radu, Museums Director, USA, Former Overseer. A COMPREHENSIVE REPORT: ANOMALOUS NEXUSES POST-SCP-8300. Authored by Jay Everwood. After SCP-8300 happened, and during the shift towards The Foundation's museum model, I was one of the first people to point out the difficulties nexuses would be facing. Given that, and given the newfound public attention allowing us to do more outreach, I applied to the board of directors for an explorative project — potentially useful for some kind of exhibition — into the nexuses, post-8300. I can't imagine this is going to be pretty. THREE PORTLANDS FORMER CLASSIFICATION: FREEPORT REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: LOST All three entrances to Three Portlands were gone. I don't know whether we can rule the people in there dead or not - assuming the best, it might be possible out-of-universe locations just lost access to this place entirely. Which, given the number of thaumaturges and potential multiversal travelers in Three Portlands, might mean they aren't trapped there, necessarily. We'll see if they ever come back up here. I can't imagine they'd really want to, though. SLOTH'S PIT FORMER CLASSIFICATION: SHANGRI-LA REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: NORMALIZED Something is missing. A nicer change of pace for 3Ports, given that most of the town's population appears to be alive. The Pit itself isn't bottomless anymore, and you can see the guy sitting at the bottom — only a few feet down, actually — just… sitting there. I think the folks at 87 already asked if he wanted out, and he didn't seem so keen. Wondering how he's still alive, given what happened to other sentient anomalies. I don't know. There's not a lot of damage here, per se, but something feels missing entirely. The trope-y energy, the liveliness, the persistence in the face of danger… everyone just feels entirely too normal. Dreary, too. People are alive, but nobody in Sloth's Pit is really happy about it. You spend so long living in the world's most condensed narrative, you aren't really used to what it's like being "normal". The most disappointing part? I asked "What could possibly go wrong" on the flight over, forgetting about the old rules we set in place, and nothing happened. ESTERBERG FORMER CLASSIFICATION: FREEPORT REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: NORMALIZED I initially considered not even visiting Esterberg, given that Site-120 had already conveyed to us over here in the US of A that it was bad. Asheworth asked me to visit personally, though, so I hopped on a plane over to Poland, and… It was a ghost town. The only sound that permeated through those hallowed streets were the tears of the few remaining. I hear the current plan is for The Foundation, Esterberg to be a cultural heritage site for the Fae and Yeren, rest their souls. There's really nothing more horrifying than a magician who's run out of tricks. HY-BRASIL FORMER CLASSIFICATION: CAMELOT REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: VACANT For the first time in years, there wasn't a sound in Hy-Brasil. No MC&D agents trying to take Fae gold or Kaiju eggs. No aforementioned Kaijus ravaging the island. No arguments between the Foundation and the ruling monarchs. All I could hear was the sound of the waves, splashing against the nearby rotting corpse of the last monster we "slayed". I'm starting to think this trip was a mistake. DALEPORT (SCP-1936) FORMER CLASSIFICATION: DUNWICH REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: VACANT Smelled like a dead body. CIPHER CITY FORMER CLASSIFICATION: TURING REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: LOST Tried to log into the city with the help of one of our Maxwellist contacts. The whole damn thing is completely inaccessible, somehow. Out of all the people still working for The Foundation now, I think I feel the worst for the former SIMULACRUM PROJECT team. Watching them literally pulling the plug on the people who were in Cipher City when 8300 hit… awful. I think I need to stop this trip. One more place to visit, and then I'm done. BORING, OREGON FORMER CLASSIFICATION: BRIAR REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: NORMALIZED I spent most of my career working with Groups of Interest. International relations wasn't really my thing in high school, but I guess that's what I ended up doing anyway. Researching GOIs, figuring out how to stop the bad GOIs, figuring out how to work with the cooperative GOIs, talking to whichever GOIs let us talk to them, etc. It was tiring sometimes, yeah, but it was also probably the most fulfilling job I could have had here. The SCP Foundation, as it was, was not always the most home-like place. Escaping that, and getting paid to do so from time to time, was a relief. Out of all the Groups, though, Wilson's Wildlife Solutions was probably the most important to me. They were something different entirely, something that tried to look at the confusing and unexplainable world around us, and instead of fighting back or locking up, they cared. All the Wilsons ever tried to do, from Tim to Faeowynn, was care for these creatures that "conventional science" couldn't explain. It was something I always thought was more admirable than our own work, in a way. I think I can get away with saying that now. Safe to say, then, that this was the nexus on the list I was the most frightened to visit. Not because the town itself would have vanished, or that the human population up and died, but rather the animals. Wilson's was the backbone of the Boring community, not just because of their permeation through every facet of the little town's world, but because of the animals. The life they brought, the uniqueness to the environment, the soul, their adorable faces… agh. Writing this is difficult, and even now I'm fighting back tears. I don't think the worst part was the critters that died right when SCP-8300 hit. Obviously, that's terrible, and seeing the graveyard with all the homemade markers the kids of the town made, that was bad. Worse, though, were the ones who didn't die immediately. What we've found throughout our exploration of SCP-8300’s aftermath is that the effect it has on an anomalous creature varies greatly. For some, it's an instant end; these are the entities we'd classify as purely anomalous. For a lot of Wilson's Critters, though, they simply possess anomalous components; organs, differentiations, abilities, etc. So when SCP-8300 happened, those parts of their bodies were rendered useless or obsolete, and in some cases, became an active detriment. Recovery to help all of the critters is ongoing, but Tim told me that they've had to put down at least 25% of the surviving population, for their own sake. I could barely hold myself together while standing in the middle of their main house, watching a volunteer caress a little dog with an ungloved hand, as the other slowly pushed down on an injection. Actually, no, I couldn't hold myself together, because I left immediately after and started sobbing on a park bench. It was awful, and it's only 2000 times worse for the people who actually raised and cared for these little guys. Faeowynn wouldn't even look me in the eye when I showed up. I am declaring an end to this exploratory report and will be requesting a significant period of time off afterward to recuperate. What we're doing here, it's important, but I can't do this. I might go back to some island somewhere, I might go visit my parents now that I've gotten a chance, but I can't be here right now. Sorry. Hey Jay, Your request for time off has been approved. I know this is a hard time for you, as it is for all of us. Take all the time you need, please. If / when you want to come back, we'll be happily waiting for you. I know I will. Ethel Kursh, Human Resources. Hi Ethel, Thank you. I'll see you in a bit. Jay Everwood, "Groups of Interest" Specialist. EXHIBITION #: 07824 Photograph taken from outside of The Foundation, Crater Lake, post-SCP-8300. EXB-07824 is obscured by the snow squall. EXHIBITION TITLE: "INFINITY'S EDGE" LOCATION: The Foundation of Crater Lake National Park, Oregon. DESCRIPTION: EXB-07824 is a gravestone situated at the edge of a cliff in Crater Lake National Park, Oregon. It is engraved with the words "THANK YOU FOR CREATING", and used to be used as a way to transport people out of The Foundation and into the normal world. It has since been designated as a protected landmark by the United States Parks Service. The artistic depictions of anomalies produced by EXB-07824 during the exhibition's active years remain underneath the cliff face. HR Liaison Ethel Kursh stands at the edge of SCP-7824's cliff, looking over into Crater Lake. She is holding a piece of paper with the bold title "NOTICE OF RESIGNATION". After a moment, a tall, stocky man with a dark suit walks up behind her. She turns around to notice him, her expression that of disappointment. She sighs. E. Kursh: Sorry, who- who are you? The figure speaks. His voice is rough, grizzled, with a sensible touch of age. ???: Someone who knows why you're standing here. He looks at the paper in her hand. ???: Ah. Kursh packs the paper into her bag, scrambling and turning around. ???: So, you reached the end. E. Kursh: Um. Yes. Sure, yes, if you know what this place is, then, yes. I had decided this was the end for me. ???: Hm. Unfortunate, given the circumstances. I assume you got the phone call about- E. Kursh: Yes. Sorry, but yes. I know 7824 is defunct now. ???: Unfortunate. E. Kursh: After that, I just… I thought to stay and watch. The view is nice, I suppose. Tears begin to well up in her eyes as Kursh sighs again. E. Kursh: You know, the worst part, I- even after hearing about 8300, I… just standing at the edge, even though I knew it wasn't anomalous anymore, I… I almost- The figure places his hand on Kursh's shoulder. She lets out a sob and sinks into his arms, a slow wind rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees. The sun is slowly setting beyond the lake, the shimmering reflection of the orange and gold reverberating along the valley. The figure looks out into the lake. ???: The name's Fritz. Ethel stifles another sob, and looks up. E. Kursh: I figured. Both look out into the distance. E. Kursh: What's it even worth now? Fritz: I don't completely know. The sun lowers over the raised horizon. Fritz: But what I do know is that the world still needs us. They'll need you. Kursh sighs. E. Kursh: Maybe. Fritz: You know they always have. E. Kursh: Maybe, maybe. Both are silent. A breath of unexpected relief. E. Kursh: Thank you. Fritz: To yourself, as well. ~ ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-001-D-J After an annual check by O5-4 due to O5-1's sudden disappearance, it was discovered that SCP-001-D-J ceased verbally communicating. Upon opening the radio, the inner contents appeared to have vanished, and were replaced with an audio tape containing several covers of the American folk song "In The Pines". PROPOSAL Transport SCP-001-D-J to the Hall of Proposals within Site-19, alongside the rest of the 001 catalog, and include a historical briefing on its personal significance to O5-1. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! He would have hated this. - O5-4, Director of The Foundation's Internal Logistics. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7538 All anomalous properties of the 'Blåhaj' stuffed animal vanished post-8300. Comfort values among employees of The Foundation are observed to be unchanged. PROPOSAL Allow for the continued production of non-anomalous SCP-7538 by the IKEA company, and include the ability to purchase said stuffed animals at Foundation locations, with visitors to The Foundation identifying as transgender being given the object for free. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! The least we could do, after all of this. - Amelie R. Metanoia, Director of The Foundation's Exhibition Care Program. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7975 SCP-7975 was found deceased outside of Site-78, his body shrunk to the size of a standard Pseudacris maculata.8 PROPOSAL Perform a taxidermal procedure on the remains of SCP-7975 in order to display it alongside the rest of the exhibitions at the Chugwater location. STATUS NOTES DENIED. Have some fucking respect for the dead. - Gregory J. Chudley, Director of Obscure Miscellany and Unimportant Artefacts at The Foundation, Chugwater. EXHIBITION #: 07662 EXHIBITION TITLE: "PORTUGAL’S FALSE GOD" Local fisherman navigating around the flesh remains of EXB-07662. LOCATION: The Foundation of Küldaeva, Portugal (Formerly Area-04). DESCRIPTION: EXB-07662 is the remains of a large, human-flesh adjacent entity that took root in the country of Portugal in the late 1980s, as the result of an improper Foundation study and a nationwide disaster. Though the exhibition is now technically safe to touch, visitors are advised to avoid making physical contact due to the instability and rotting of the structure. Further questions regarding EXB-07662 or the history and culture of the Nälkä9 people should be directed towards the remaining Küldaevan locals working for The Foundation; a memorial has been erected adjacent to the exhibit for visitors to pay their respects to the thousands lost post-SCP-8300. I know you can't read this, Dad, but they found her remains at the bottom of the monster when the tunneling began. Maybe the others were disturbed, but… I don't know, I found a certain comfort in knowing there was a part of her in the bottom of the beast. Gives me hope I might find you down there as well. The Nälkäns… they're gone. Almost entirely wiped out by SCP-8300. I'd say it would have broken your heart, and I still think it would, but I also know you would have told me to think smarter than that. It's not about how we feel, right? Should be focusing on their families, on the relief necessary to save an almost extinct community, and on all the history we can't preserve in one of our museums. That's the terrifying part of what we're doing here. So much we can put up in the walls for the public to see, to give them a glimpse at what we've lost, but… for almost all of the lost souls, for all of us who witnessed that world firsthand, that world was more than just a gawking tourist's fantasy. I need to go to the memorial site again. We're going to try and help them through this. I think that's the kind of Foundation you would have liked to have seen. Daniel Arkanen, Director of The Foundation Küldaeva, Portugal, Former Junior Researcher, Son of Samuel Arkanen. The time is 5 minutes past midnight, January 1st. The Undersecretary General of the United Nations Global Occult Coalition sits in her chair at the front of the General Assembly's chambers, alone. The rest of the organizations are out of the chambers, on the yearly New-Years recess. All 108 seats are empty in front of DC Al Fine as she clutches her side, a sharp pain digging into her abdomen that has been present for the past 5 minutes. She has a solemn look on her face when an intern opens the doors to the Assembly — which Al Fine had forgotten to lock on her yearly reflection of the events of the past 365 days — and bursts inside. He is carrying a report. When he reaches Al Fine, through the pain, she can finally focus on his expression. He is excited, elated even, and has run down the central aisle to greet her. She raises her hand before he can speak. "Why are you here?" He sputters out a barely coherent mess of words before collecting himself. "Ma'am, this- sir? Ma'am? Listen, you asked not to be interrupted, but we're- we're getting reports worldwide, from member nations and other organizations, our own or otherwise. There's-", he cuts himself off, gasping for breath. The sharp pain shoots up into her chest, Al Fine's ribs aching with an indescribable weight. "There's what?" The intern flips through the pages of his hastily collected report. "Well, okay, it's going to sound hard to believe, but- and this really is insane- our reports indicate that anomalous people, places, things, events, phenomena, they're all-" Al Fine raises her hand again, with a stutter and shake to the movement as the pain climbs up her side. She already knows what that report is going to say. Her face grimaces as she gestures for him to hand over the paper, which he does swiftly, almost tripping over his feet in excitement. Al Fine pulls the paper in for inspection, the pain now riding up the sides of her neck, her head barely holding up upon her shoulders. She is sweating as she looks at the list of missing people, missing nations, statistics, and glory-floating paragraphs. The pain has extended downwards now, piercing through her thigh. Cringing from the pain, her expression softens to that of defeat. Her eyes sink down into the paper, the words of the report bringing no joy to the chamber of the General Assembly as she sighs, deeply. The intern speaks up, confused. "Ma'am?" She slowly looks up at him. "Sorry, ma'am, I'm just- you seem a lot less excited than I thought you would have been." Al Fine speaks, her voice cracking through the pain as it pierces her skull. "Why would I be excited about this?" The intern raises his hands, in semi-protest and confusion. "Why would you- Ms. Al Fine, you're reading the report, right? The anomalous is gone, all in an instant, just like that. The prime directive of our organization, it's- it's been fulfilled, like fate or something. Didn't we just win?" Her expression doesn't change as she drops the paper, the intern looking at the multi-page report hitting the floor beside her feet. The pain courses through her brain, her blood, her veins, as Al Fine can feel her body quickly entering a state of shock. Before the Undersecretary General falls to the floor, unconscious, she mutters out: "If… if you look at it like that, s- sure. We won." "But at what cost?" Agent Hopper watched from the central corridor of the Wanderer's Library as hundreds of Serpent's Hand volunteers, agents, mercenaries, and other miscellaneous operatives poured through a single Way. He could see the fear in their eyes, the confusion emanating from the buzzing of the flowing stream of people, the Librarians around him attempting to corral the people and figure out what the problem was. He didn't really know why this happened; he just returned from a regular field mission, a universe where appliances were the dominant species, when the Way suddenly burst with activity. And just like it had opened mere moments ago, once the stream of people ended, with a swift and crushing movement, the Eighth Archivist slammed into the Way, closing it. Not just sealing it off temporarily, no. Hopper had seen that plenty of times when the Library needed to retrieve him from a particularly hairy situation. As far as he could tell, the ROUNDERPEDE had just closed the Way permanently. There was no leftover multiversal signature, no more energy remaining in the gateway that had hosted the Way's entrance into the Library, nothing. He was going to have to ask one of his superiors about this at some point. Through all of the commotion, though, trying to make out any more details about this seemingly random event, all Agent Hopper could make out clearly was the sobs of a small group of Hand members, all shouting the same thing in a mix of anguish, nostalgia, and terror. "Fantasy has died there." For the first time since its creation, 70 years ago, the Engine shut off. The Engineer didn't need the rest of Delta Command to tell him what had happened — though they did so anyway — because he already knew. Ignoring the shouting of his fellows in arms, ignoring the sounds of their anomalous constructions and stolen artifacts shutting down, being destroyed, or losing their essence, the Engineer stepped outside. As the door to their bunker opened, the early morning oranges and reds of a glaring sunrise shot down onto him, the warmth of the air enveloping him. As he stared out into the distance, the reds of the sunrise and the blues of the dark night conflicting in an eternal equilibrium that the Engineer was all-too-familiar with, he had only one thought. "It was fun while it lasted." EXHIBITION #: 07754 EXHIBITION TITLE: "K. Bartleman Memorial Exhibits" LOCATION: See description. DESCRIPTION: EXB-7754 signifies the memorials which are located at The Foundation locations worldwide, placed in remembrance of the various members of Foundation personnel lost as a result of SCP-8300, or any unnatural deaths which occurred during the tenure of the SCP Foundation. Their names are listed in alphabetical order, for all visitors to see. EXB-7754 of The Foundation, Lake Huron. 451,918. That's the number of employees of the Foundation who died instantly upon SCP-8300 hitting. I worked in the Human Resources Department for a long time, so I was used to the idea of employees dying, but this… this was something else entirely. The amount of work that's been put into the memorials across all of The Foundation locations is exhausting and draining the Department. Making phone calls to the family of personnel who never knew their spouse, parent, or child's true job. Crossing names off a list of currently living personnel. Double checking whether the work orders for the graves include all the names they should. It's the most work we've ever done, and it's the hardest as well. I've seen several of the Liaisons break into tears while sorting through personnel files, the faces of their dead coworkers staring back at them. I've been attempting to hold it together myself, but if this wasn't a necessary cause, I think I would have walked out of this office 3 days ago and never looked back. The spirit of it all is pushing everyone forward, so I'm just hoping that lasts until we can see it through. Their service won't be in vain. We died in the dark. But they’ll be buried in the light. Ethel Kursh, Director of Human Resources, Former Deputy of Human Resources. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7678 All accounts deactivated. Upon further inspection, it was discovered the message "John 11:35" was texted to all Christian members of Foundation personnel 3 minutes before SCP-8300 occurred. PROPOSAL During the conversion of The Saint Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica's basement into The Foundation Gallery for Theological History, include a stand explaining SCP-7678 and dissuading potential misconceptions regarding visitor's faith. STATUS NOTES PENDING… The physical proposal for how we address 7678 is fine, but more time is probably necessary to handle the implications he brought, as well as what "the second death of Christ" might imply. We still want to retain peace, people. - Yossarian Leiner, Director of Theological History. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7326-2 No change from previous state of inactivity; as a result of SCP-8300, it is believed to remain inactive indefinitely. PROPOSAL A lengthy conversation between The Foundation and PoI-7326 regarding the presumed-deceased state of SCP-7326-2 is suggested. STATUS NOTES PENDING… We don't need to break his heart right now, not again. - Cindy Tanner, Museum Security ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-682 Unusually, SCP-682 is the only anomaly within the confines of the Foundation that displayed no immediate changes, and one of the few purely anomalous entities which did not perish immediately upon SCP-8300. However, upon further interview, the entity has revealed to personnel that it believes it is now capable of being terminated. PROPOSAL Decommission SCP-682, at the anomaly's request. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! Farewell, old friend. - Charles Gears, Exhibition and Artefact Curator for The Foundation, Denver. EXHIBITION #: 00105 EXHIBITION TITLE: "EQUIPMENT OF ALPHA-9-1, IRIS THOMPSON." LOCATION: The Foundation of Denver, Colorado (Formerly Site-19). 00105 DESCRIPTION: Part of the gallery on the history of Alpha-9, "Last Hope"10, EXB-00105 is a display case containing several cameras provided to former Agent and Contained Person of the SCP Foundation, Iris Thompson. Using her phototelekinetic abilities, Thompson was an invaluable member of Alpha-9, and was one of the few Contained Persons11 to receive the Star of the Foundation for her services. However, it is to be known to visitors that most of the cameras in EXB-00105 were only used a small handful of times, or in specific circumstances; the preferred camera of Iris Thompson is in her personal possession. Visitors to The Foundation, Denver are encouraged to learn more about Iris Thompson, Alpha-9, and the regretful history behind Contained Persons during the SCP Foundation's tenure via the aforementioned gallery, handouts available around the museum, or by asking members of staff. When SCP-8300 happened, the biggest question on everyone's minds — well, on mine at least — was the question of the humanoids. Excluding the ones who completely dissipated, exploded, vanished, or otherwise ceased entirely to exist immediately, several of the remaining people we had contained were now just that: people. No more anomalous abilities to their name, it was obvious that like everything else we'd done after the Council decided that the museum was the best choice, we should let them go free. Of course, this raised a lot of questions regarding both process and morals. Some of our more dedicated, longtime Foundation loyalists figured that we couldn't just release them back to their families and lives and that the ethical consequences we'd have to hold ourselves to would be too much; we'd never be able to start The Foundation as a museum if we were gutted by our previous failures and indecencies. On the other side of the aisle, we obviously needed to let them go. They were prisoners while they were with us, but at the very least, for some, there was just cause for it. Anomalies are anomalies, containment is containment, et cetera. But now, they'd been freed from the "crimes" — to continue the prisoner metaphor — that had landed them here in the first place. Even during their time in the Foundation, we — I — tried to help. The idea of Alpha-9 was an innocent one to start, the idea that the failures of an overzealous and uncaring Omega-7 program could be solved with down-to-earth, honest-to-god, humanity. Don't treat the anomalous people like objects, treat them like people. More like a soldier than a prisoner, which is itself still restrictive, sure, but at the very least it was better. Whether or not we failed at this idea is left up to historical interpretation, for the visitors of The Foundation to form judgment on. I have my opinion. Eventually, though, the pro-containment loyalists were quelled, as reason shone through. It was going to be painful, and we were going to have to take a barbed responsibility for our actions. But Director Radu made a good point of it all: isn't that the point of this? So that's what we did, and seeing as I am — I was — the Director of Alpha-9, I was responsible for the reintegration of our team with their families. It was… Iris Thompson, formerly SCP-105, stands outside a residence in Newark, New Jersey. Director of Alpha-9 Sophia Light stands next to her, holding Iris' hand as Light stares at the front door. S. Light: You feel ready for this? Iris raises her eyes from the pavement below her and looks to the front door; a small sign, reading "THE THOMPSONS" hangs underneath a small window, carved from a piece of oak. Iris inhales sharply, closes her eyes, and sighs. I. Thompson: Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. She looks over to Light. I. Thompson: After all this time, though, do you think… S. Light: That they'll remember you? I. Thompson: Yeah. I mean, I was, what, 14 when you guys carted me away? And… amnesticized them, right? Light's expression tightens with a hint of guilt. S. Light: As far as I know, no. They were just informed you died. In hospice care. I. Thompson: Ah. Right. Because everyone thought I was insane, because I said I could reach through my Polaroids. Of course. S. Light: It was an effective cover story, if not a little harsh. I. Thompson: A little? S. Light: A lot. I. Thompson: Yeah. A cool breeze flows by, shaking the snow-covered trees above the doorway. The sun glistened on the crystal-white snow surrounding the house, as Light and Thompson stare on. Thompson takes a step forward, then hesitates. Light raises an eyebrow. I. Thompson: You know, when 8300 first happened, I was devastated, actually. S. Light: I remember. I was there with you when the wave hit. I. Thompson: Yeah, I just- for so long, my camera and me and my powers, they were my identity. That's what got me onto Alpha-9, kept me useful for so long, and gave me something special that nobody else had. I. Thompson: All of us were like that, right? Me, Alexei, Rainer, we… we were unique. So it felt bad when 8300 hit us because naturally, it would feel bad to lose that. S. Light: Sure. Thompson turns around to face Light, her hand slipping out of hold. I. Thompson: But a few days pass, and through all of the tears, confusion, and conversations about what would happen to all of us, I realized something. Thompson points at Light. I. Thompson: All those feelings of devastation, all that guilt and pain, that- that was because of you. It was all because of you, the Foundation, and- and the world you put us in! Locking us in boxes, reducing our identities to the powers that made us different from the rest of the world, that was what made me feel terrible. You- Tears begin to well in Thompson's eyes. She stifles them back. I. Thompson: You made our "uniqueness" the whole of our identity, so of course we felt bad when 8300 "took it away" from us, because- because we had nothing. Light's expression remains still. Thompson sighs. I. Thompson: We weren't people to you. I wasn't Iris G. Thompson to you. I was just an object, a tool, some… some kind of purpose without a person. She stops for a moment, collecting herself. I. Thompson: Once I had that realization, the idea that my anomaly wasn't anything more than an excuse to lock me away… that's when I was ready. Ready for this. Thompson turns back to the door. Light walks up the single step to meet her, their gazes grossing paths as they look to each other with a bond of broken familiarity. There is guilt buried deep into Light's eyes. I. Thompson: Sorry. S. Light: Don't apologize. You're right, in everything you said. You don't have to believe me, I have no right to ask that of you, but I agree. The things we did to you, Alexei, Rainer, and all the others; that's going to stick with me, at least, forever. They begin to walk closer to the front door; step by step, moment by moment, the winter sun glistening down upon them. S. Light: This is the least I can do. I. Thompson: Yeah. They stop. The door is within a hand's reach, the doorbell positioned just to the side. S. Light: I'm sorry, Iris. For everything. I. Thompson: I understand why it happened. And I understand you, more than any of the others. I think I'll still resent the Foundation, though, for a long, long time. S. Light: Fair enough. Now- Light gestures to the doorbell. S. Light: It's time. I. Thompson: It sure is. Thompson rings the doorbell, her hand shakily lowering to her side after she does so. Both she and Light nervously shuffle in place for a few moments, before a click. The door slowly opens, the face of Janice Thompson, Iris' mother, peeking through. J. Thompson: Hello? Who is- When the door is fully open, Janice and Iris make eye contact. Light steps back as the two Thompsons examine each other for a moment, trying to understand the other. As Iris smiles slightly, Janice's mouth opens, her eyebrows raising. J. Thompson: Oh my… Iris? Tears well up in both of their eyes, as they stare for a moment, their confusion changing to a shaky smile, their expressions softening as a love shared only between parent and child flows between them. Before Janice can speak again, Iris collapses into her arms, their sobbing filling the quiet neighborhood as the two embrace tightly. They raise for a moment, staring each other in the eye, examining a face not seen in many years. Both can barely get out a word. J. Thompson: I- Iris, is it- I. Thompson: Yeah Mom, it's- it's really me, I'm- Their embrace falls together again, the tears flowing down their faces. The sound of hastened footsteps can be heard through the doorway before Iris' father Stewart enters the frame. He looks to his wife and daughter for a moment, up to Light — who simply and softly smiles — and back to Iris. His expression changes from surprise to ecstatic smile as he falls into the embrace, the sounds of the three Thompsons' sobbing enveloping and twisting together into a chorus of love and memory. Light looks to the three, tears welling up in her own eyes as she stifles them back. She sighs, a tear escaping her attempts at holding them down, as her phone begins to buzz. She takes it out, examining the incoming caller's name, "TROY LAMENT <3". After looking back to the Thompsons, who themselves buzz with excitement and love, Light picks up the phone, turns around with a lingering glance, and walks away. …it was the greatest thing I've done, in all my years of working for the Foundation. Sophia Light, Director of Contained Person's Reintegration, Former Director of Alpha-9, "Last Hope". THE FOLLOWING IS A MEMO FROM THE JOINT DIRECTOR'S OFFICE OF THE FOUNDATION MUSEUM FOR ANOMALOUS HISTORY Hello, everyone! With the end of 2024 being here, we're happy to announce that this officially marks 1 year of The Foundation's successful operations. Throughout the overall tragedy that was SCP-8300, our organization has managed to pull itself from the ashes and rise to become the world's premier institute for the study of anomalous history, peoples, culture, and more. In our first year of operations, the following achievements have been met. We have fully converted 227 Foundation Facilities into museums for The Foundation, with several remaining facilities in remote locations such as Site-07 to be closed down within the next year. An initial loss of personnel by about 25% (excluding the deceased, rest their souls) has been counteracted by a 45% increase in hiring post-opening, with many from the general populous interested in holding positions not requiring a Foundation background. 90% of the remaining original collection of non-living anomalies has been converted into exhibits and moved to the appropriate locations. We have paid monetary reparations to all formerly Contained Persons, specific amounts to be provided at request to the Accounting Department. Despite some retracted deals with more reluctant governments at the "threat" of revealing state secrets, we have maintained the presently needed amount of funding from all former governmental allies. Our insurance plan has been transferred from the now-defunct Goldbaker-Reinz Ltd. to the non-anomalous Reinz, Ltd. A "Board of Directors", composed of all department directors of The Foundation, has been established as our leadership body; rather than an elusive 13, we're a connected 47 and counting! Of course, despite all of these positives, it is at this moment that we must remind all members of staff that this achievement is that of a two-edged sword: for all the success we've had in integrating ourselves into the public, educating the previously-above-veil world about the fantastical worlds we hid behind closed doors for decades, and attempting to aid the damaged communities, we must consider that the road to this success was stemmed from pain. Through the tireless efforts of the Human Resources Department, Internal Statistics Department, the Reintegration Program, the Ethics Committee, the Historical and Recordkeeping Departments, and several other facets of our museum, we have managed to finally compile a roughly accurate estimate for the losses incurred to the anomalous world as a result of SCP-8300. 12 major anomalous species of intelligent life, including the Fae, Yeren, and Ortothans were wiped out completely; the historical state of their cultures being in jeopardy due to historical records and allies of these cultural groups being the only remnant. 138 anomalous cultural groups, primarily composed of originally-human individuals, have suffered population losses within the critical range of 50% or higher; such groups include the Nälkä, the Church of the Broken God (specifically the Maxwellists, who suffered losses up to ~90%), and all 5 current branches of Fifthism.12 Almost all 108 members of the Global Occult Coalition have dissolved, with notable inclusions being the Servants of the Silicon Nornir, the World Parahealth Organization, and the Coca-Cola company. All multiversal access in or out of our universe has been suspended, leaving several visitors from other universes such as non-anomalous Foundation personnel, the Black Queen, and other surviving individuals stranded here. Similarly, several of our own personnel have been considered lost to other universes, should they still exist. As well, most Nexuses not present within what was known as "baseline reality" have vanished or been destroyed completely. Several key politicians and public figures have died as a result of SCP-8300, or as an after-effect, leaving many governmental allies shaky on The Foundation's existence in a form of blame. Public protests against The Foundation from denial groups, extremist members of the now-defunct Parawatch Forums, anti-religious groups, and other individuals who find the existence of our organization to be (as one man put it) "wrong", have hampered public image and has even led to damage in extreme cases. Monetary reparations are not, in all cases, significant enough repayment towards former Contained Persons who suffered within the grasp of our organization, and have demanded further action. A not-insignificant portion of our original collection of contained anomalies has still not been accounted for. So, that is to say, there is still progress to be made. We also have come to recognize that this transition has not been easy for everyone. The heavy loss of life, be it friends, family, animals, Fae, or otherwise has held a toll on everyone that is inevitably unavoidable within the halls of our museums. History is a fickle thing; though we construct and maintain monuments to hold it up, regale it, allow people to access it — if but for a moment — the fantasy we'd seen, the one we lived through? There will never be anything like it again. It has come to pass, and for the outside world, that is easy — a fantasy is just a fantasy. For us, though, it was life. Our purpose, our tenets, our point of being. We understand this struggle, and continue to allow for personnel — whether or not you worked for the SCP Foundation before SCP-8300 arrived — to take time off when they need to, travel wherever they have to go to reconcile with the losses, and be with the people you love. Over 100 years of the SCP Foundation and its cold, unfeeling grasp has come to a bitter end. It is over, though, and we look to the future. A future where humanity, despite the death of magic, can at least know and recognize what came before them. A museum for dinosaur bones allows you to wonder what life was like millions of years ago; The Foundation allows you to see what your world was like, now. It will not be a perfect upcoming few years, but we will push on. To Show Cultures and People. To Share Celestial Powers. To Save Chronological Poignance. Our purpose changes, but we thank you for staying with us. They will live on in the light. This memo was penned by a joint effort within the Director's Board, primarily by Ethel Kursh (HR), Maria Jones (RD), and Director Radu. THE FOUNDATION MUSEUM FOR ANOMALOUS HISTORY Founded 2024. Thank you for viewing our digital information package regarding The Foundation! We're so glad to have had you join us as part of this journey, and we hope to see you in person for the first time or for the four-hundredth time again soon. However, this doesn't need to be the end of our digital journey together. To access the full digitalized version of The Foundation's Display Archives, please click here. Thank you for remembering. Footnotes 1. Protocols used by The Foundation in order to contain exhibits prior to the loss of their properties. Each "CONPROC" as they were colloquially known is tailor-made, because no two exhibits were the same! 2. Similar to the rest of the Descriptions you can find around The Foundation, these tell you what the exhibition is/was! 3. (see Jay Everwood's "Comprehensive Report of Anomalous Nexuses, Post-SCP-8300") 4. The 5-digit numerical system is how The Foundation keeps track of our exhibitions! From 00002 to 99999, we've got something cataloged for your learning! 5. Titles are determined by the original proposer of the exhibition, or are an adaptation of any previous names the exhibition may have had. 6. Groups of Interest were organizations other than the SCP Foundation which existed in the world of the anomalous. Whether they worked with the SCPF or against them, their intentions, methods of execution, and places in the the anomalous world varied greatly. Some GOIs — as they're called — even exist to this day, such as the UNGOC, Wilson's Wildlife Solutions, and the Unusual Incidents Unit! 7. During the dissolution of the SCP Foundation, many research staff with interests and knowledge not extendable to working at The Foundation were left unemployed; as such, The Foundation maintains it's research and development branches for projects such as the STARLAUNCH INITIATIVE. 8. Boreal Chorus Frog. 9. The Nälkä — formerly known derogatorily as the "Sarkics" — were a major group of interest / religious and cultural group which the Foundation believed to be surrounding carnomancy; a form of lost magic related to the human body. Their existence was more complex however, showing in fact a rejection of theological deities and preferring reverence to their sacred leader, Ion. Though they may seem initially frightening to the uneducated, the Nälkä were some of the kindest people within the anomalous world, themselves the victims of the struggles others would frequently face. 10. "Last Hope" was an elite team of indentured Contained Persons, employed by the Foundation for difficult scenarios in which their task force would be able to accomplish what normal agents could not. 36 former "SCPs" have held a spot within "Last Hope", with 9 dying in combat. 11. Contained Persons were people with magical, fantastical, unexplainable, or otherwise anomalous abilities that the SCP Foundation deemed necessary to contain. 12. Five-Star Publishing, Hollywood Network, The Fifth Army, The Central Fifthist Church of New Hampshire, and Fifthist Bass, Pro, Bait and Surf. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8300" by ThatGuyThatTime, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8300. 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: Museum Auto Turin Toilet.jpg Author: Marmox License: CC-BY-SA-3.0-IT Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Museum_Auto_Turin_Toilet.jpg Filename: Mircea Lucescu (cropped).jpg Author: Давиденко Валерий License: CC-BY-SA-3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mircea_Lucescu_(cropped).jpg Filename: Orion Crew Module at Kennedy Space Center.jpg Author: NASA/Dimitri Gerondidakis License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Orion_Crew_Module_at_Kennedy_Space_Center.jpg Filename: Fisherman with Nets - Alfuraba Fishing Village - Porto, Portugal (4642331287).jpg Author: Adam Jones from Kelowna, BC, Canada License: CC-BY-SA-2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fisherman_with_Nets_-_Alfuraba_Fishing_Village_-_Porto,_Portugal_(4642331287).jpg Filename: Crater Lake in Winter 3, Crater Lake National Park.jpg Author: National Park Service License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Crater_Lake_in_Winter_3,_Crater_Lake_National_Park.jpg Filename: Memorial Wall of names (2).jpg Author: Upike94 License: CC-BY-SA-3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Memorial_Wall_of_names_(2).jpg Filename: General Assembly of the United Nations.jpg Author: azugaldia License: CC-BY-2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:General_Assembly_of_the_United_Nations.jpg Filename: Real Gabinete Português de Leitura 10.jpg Author: Donatas Dabravolskas License: CC-BY-SA-4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Real_Gabinete_Português_de_Leitura_10.jpg Filename: Red-purple sunrise.jpg Author: Luis C License: CC-BY-SA-2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Red-purple_sunrise.jpg Filename: Doctors_Hospital_from_the_Southwest_1.jpg Author: Sixflashphoto (cropped by ThatGuyThatTime) License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Doctors_Hospital_from_the_Southwest_1.jpg Filename: downtown-347454_1280.jpg Author: Goodfreephotos_com License: CC 0 Source Link: https://pixabay.com/photos/downtown-wisconsin-washington-usa-347454/ Additional Notes: Images published on Pixabay before 2019 are in the public domain. Filename: Polaroid SX-70 Land Camera - MIT Museum - DSC03773.JPG Author: Daderot License: CC-Zero Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Polaroid_SX-70_Land_Camera_-_MIT_Museum_-_DSC03773.JPG Filename: 173nopicture.png Author: ThatGuyThatTime |
SCP-8300 | uncontained | We died in the dark, we- we kept them in the dark, so you could live in the light. We won’t let their memory stay in the dark forever. ThatGuyThatTime They’ll be buried in the light. Written for the SCP-8000 contest! More by ThatGuy MESSAGE FROM THE FOUNDATION'S RECORDKEEPING DEPARTMENT Hello! Thank you for coming to The Foundation - whether you're attending within Las Vegas, Lake Huron, or a "City of Portland", we're honored to have you joining us. The following is a brief digital information package, distributed to all guests upon entry. If you're looking to up your digital experience of The Foundation, O4 Membership Passes are available at the front kiosk. Once again, thank you for spending an hour, three, a day, or for some, your lives with The Foundation. Memories weren't meant to be forgotten, and we'll make sure it stays that way. — Maria Jones, Director of Museum Recordkeeping. OPEN DIGITAL VISITORS PACKAGE? THANK YOU FOR VISITING THE FOUNDATION. Mankind must not go back to hiding in fear. No one else will protect us, and we must stand up for ourselves. - Francis "Fritz" Williams, Founder and Administrator of The Foundation. We must not fade. - Unknown. EXHIBIT#: 8300 LEVEL0 OPEN FORMER FORMER SECONDARY CLASS: archon FORMER DISRUPTION CLASS: dark FORMER RISK CLASS: notice link to memo Item#: {$item-number} Level1 Containment Class: {$container-class} Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo The Foundation of Northern Ontario, prior to SCP-8300. SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES:1 Due to the presumed completion of SCP-8300, no further containment procedures will be required. All Foundation personnel are to report to their nearest Human Resources liaison for further instructions post-restructuring. DESCRIPTION:2 SCP-8300 is the complete and instantaneous cessation of all anomalous phenomena on December 31st, 2023. This comes to fruition in different ways depending on the kind of anomaly being affected. For example: Anomalous entities whose anomalous properties are central to their existence perish or otherwise vanish from baseline reality. Anomalous entities with anomalous capabilities not central to their existence lose said abilities. Anomalous objects lose their properties or cease to exist entirely. Anomalous locations lose their properties, cease to exist, or slowly regress into an alternate, "normal" form.3 Anomalous events cease occurrence. Currently, the reason for SCP-8300 is unknown, as is whether the effect of the anomaly is permanent. Due to this unprecedented development, insight from the remainder of several GOIs, and a unanimous vote from the Overseer Council, it was decided to enact an intentional "XK-Class Broken Masquerade" scenario. Restructuring of the SCP Foundation into "The Foundation Museum for Anomalous History" is ongoing. I can't say nobody ever expected it. People across all wakes of life in the Foundation have proposed a theoretical end to the anomalous before. We've peered into other universes, seen how things could have gone down, and in most, there's some kind of solution. This time, not so much. I was in Alpha Command when it happened, during the yearly conference with the O5s I'm glad to be leaving behind. The benefit of being a trusted member of staff is that you get entrusted with an annual reminder of purely how much work you do, and how much work is left. I was just in the middle of showing the Accounting Department's budget report, when… a phone rings. Then another. Then another. Then, in the most terrifying turn of events you can imagine happening in a hierarchical organization like ours, O5-3 shorts out. O5-2 literally fades away from existence. One by one, overseers popped out of this universe as if they'd never even been there; I think the only ones left by the end of it were 4 and 12. Well, and the corpse of 13, if you can count it. You can imagine that typical procedure was ignored given the circumstances, not hiring any new O5s, but… ah. When we picked up the phones, we could tell it wasn't going to be worth it. Maria Jones, Director of Museum Recordkeeping, Former Director of RAISA. To all remaining Foundation personnel, the Overwatch Command — all 2 of us — would like to extend our deepest condolences to all those who lost friends, loved ones, family, and other coworkers in the wake of SCP-8300. Due to the suddenness of this event, all employees have been granted optional indefinite leave as they handle the ever-changing world. Those who would like to remain with us in The Foundation, and yes, there is a choice, will be joining the ranks of our new and changed organization. As a result of SCP-8300, millions of anomalous people and animals have been lost worldwide. Entire cultures have vanished, with few left to carry their memory. In a unanimous vote, we have decided this cannot stand. We are, sans for the now-inaccessible Library of the Serpent, the largest database of anomalous information and history in the known world. It is our duty to carry this into the light we protected for so long, and not let fantasy fade into obscurity. Your new roles within this museum will be available to you upon your return, from your nearest Human Resources liaison. If you choose to stay with us, thank you. If you don't, please don't forget the world you're leaving behind. Long gone are the days of secrecy and experiments, here are the quiet days of preservation and remembrance. EXHIBITION #: 001734 EXHIBITION TITLE:5 "THE ORIGINAL / THE STATUE" 00173 LOCATION: The Foundation of Denver, Colorado (Formerly Site-19). DESCRIPTION: EXB-00173 is a statue, crafted by former anomalous artist Mortimer Fortue, and composed of concrete, rebar, and a motley of colored spray paints. Formerly, EXB-00173 was incredibly hostile towards anyone who blinked while looking at it, attempting to snap their necks. As one of the original exhibitions catalogued by The Foundation in 1915, EXB-00173 is presented with legacy status in a personal exhibition, featuring other artist's interpretations of the open-ended statue. Guests are requested to not physically touch the exhibition, for the sake of their own personal hygiene. After all these years, all of these measurements, all the people we through into the line of sight to block out theirs, the way we learn about SCP-8300 at Site-19? Before any of the other facilities watched their gods fall out or their nexuses snap shut like a flytrap, what was the first thing that hit us? The peanut stops shitting. For 2 hours, the weight scales we installed in there don't change. After hour 3, we send a D-Class to check in on the thing. Poor guy blinks, we all brace for impact, and… nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. Hour 4, the phones start hitting Foundation-wide. Pandemonium hits, and I get to learn through a pile of feces. That and my third eye disappearing, but the shit really hammered it in. I'm going to miss the sanctity of this fucking place. God. What a world. Alto Clef, Director of Weapon Archives, Denver, Colorado, Former Director of Applied Response. The following is a reduced transcript from the announcement of The Foundation's opening. A crowd of reporters surround a table where O5-12, O5-4, HR Director Stanford Li, and Site-19 Director Tilda Moose are seated. The conference room is buzzing with confusion as O5-12 speaks. O5-12: And so, from the inception of our organization, the SCP Foundation was dedicated to securing the anomalous, containing that we couldn't understand, and protecting the public. So, you. Over 100 years of this, and- The reporters begin flinging questions at the table. O5-12 raises his hand, silencing them. O5-12: I know, I know, you have your questions. Trust me, I did too when I got promoted here. A reporter from CNN interrupts. Reporter: Sir, I need to know, but who exactly are you? O5-12: I… I thought I addressed that at the beginning. My name is O5-12. Reporter: That sounds like a designation, more than a name. Murmurs of agreement from the crowd. O5-12 looks to the people on his side: they shrug, almost defeatedly. O5-4: Not like it matters much now. O5-12: Ah. Hah, I guess… yeah, I guess there's not much hiding it anymore. Hello, then, world. My name is Anton Radu, and I hold- or, I should say held the office of O5-12 for 5 years. I was nicknamed the "Archaeologist" and the "Normalist" by my peers, and to all the personnel of Site-18 watching this, I'm sorry for my… my disappearance. Radu is silent for a moment. Overseer Anton Radu. A. Radu: And that's the thing about all of it, really. The secrecy, the collusion with governments, the deception, and the risks taken- god, it wasn't even exclusive to our outer relations. You can tell, just from that, that the secrets were in between us as well. Radu stands up. A. Radu: But it was all for a reason. We told ourselves it was for a reason, a justified reason, so we kept it going for as long as we possibly could. Not just for security, or our own protection, but because in the eyes of our founders, the worlds of fantasy and normality couldn't mix. For either of their sake, it was seen as too dangerous. A. Radu: With such immense resources placed in our hands, there was- there was an implied duty, a trust we had to hold. With that trust comes power, and with that power comes mistakes and power-trips, yes, and I cannot justify a lot of what we've done, but it was seen as a necessity. That's why I lied to my friends and family, for example, for 5 years that I wasn't dead. I missed out on… I missed out on 3 funerals for all of this. A. Radu: The anomalous was our dedication, consequences of intentions aside. Radu is silent. He sighs, lowers his head for a moment, and takes a deep breath. Moose and Li shuffle in their seats uncomfortably. A. Radu: But now, it's gone. All of it, within a matter of moments, vanished. Every memetic shield we put in place, every object imbued with the concept of "pure evil", every goddamn matrix machine we built, they… they vanished. Blink of an eye, everything the SCP Foundation stood for, reduced to ashes. Not even ashes, actually. For some, it was as if they'd never even been there. A. Radu: We spent a long time debating what to do. Many of our best scientists, the ones who survived, tried to formulate a plan to kickstart the anomalous again. The problem was, most of our creative solutions to major problems like this… well, they involved anomalous concepts. They required us to access something conventional science just couldn't do. Magic… magic was gone, and seemingly forever. A. Radu: We reached a conclusion, though, eventually. That's what any of you out here who didn't secretly know about the anomalous world are here for, anyway. It was a pretty reasonable one, and it… it's been viewed as the best option going forward. We don't know why SCP-8300 — that's what the file in my hand this whole time has been — happened, so- so nobody knows if we can fix it. A. Radu: But we've adapted before. Sure, to lesser gods and weaker beasts, but the SCP Foundation is nothing if not permeable throughout challenges. With the remaining resources and all the remains we have, and the history we hold… it felt appropriate. Li clicks to the next slide. A. Radu: I'd like to introduce the world to The Foundation, Museum for Anomalous History. Open for operations worldwide within the next year. Radu sighs. A. Radu: We died in the dark, we- we kept them in the dark, so you could live in the light. A. Radu: We won’t let their memory stay in the dark forever. EXHIBITION #: 07939 EXHIBITION TITLE: "KHAZI" LOCATION: The Foundation of Northern Ontario (Formerly Site-37). 07939 DESCRIPTION: EXB-07939 was a toilet going by the name of "Khazi" possessing sapience, sentience, the capability for verbal communication, and a distinct interest in anti-human violence. Prior to SCP-8300, EXB-07939 was the leader of an anti-human revolutionary Group of Interest6 named "The New Whirled Order", which killed at least 500 people during their assault against the Foundation. Despite his diminutive stature, EXB-07939 was, during his reign as the leader of the New Whirled Order, considered one of the SCP Foundation's biggest threats. Further information regarding Khazi, the New Whirled Order, and the related conflict can be found in the newly installed gallery "The Appliance War: Ceramic and Blood", located in Hall A of the Northern Ontario location. It was the strangest thing. I wasn't born or raised a soldier. Intentionally avoided military service, and really shied away from the concept itself entirely. My dad, he came from that kind of background, and he knew what it did to a person. He wasn't one to force his trauma on me, thank god. Unfortunately, though, I did end up caught in a war. Spent years mulling away at the Foundation, doing grunt work and climbing up the corporate ladder, getting promoted to the definition of a "technically meaningful job" at Site-37, trying to pull a department together after years of neglect, and boom. A toilet explodes on our doorstep. Then three more explode across the eastern seaboard. By 2 weeks in, our organization has to implement a Foundation-wide ban on toilets. Microwaves start to turn up to the maximum heat. A blender… what the blender did isn't worth repeating for this, even if I could. I think the younger ones started calling it the "Appliance War". I was never huge on the idea, myself, but I was too occupied in a newfound promotion to "Director of Appliance Response" — an insane position to get promoted to, mind you — to think too hardly about it. At least someone was having fun, and hey, I think we all laughed at him too. "Khazi". Ethel told me it was a British slang term for a toilet, but you couldn't convince me that the little freak of a toilet didn't invent the word himself, as some kind of horrible foreshadowing for what was to come. God. Sorry, I just really, really hate that toilet. In retrospect, and this is a commonly shared opinion among the regular folks — mostly the ones who never saw the consequences of what the "Appliance War" yielded — the titular appliances were probably right. Sure, we never knew that they were living, technically breathing, for-sure-feeling creatures, but we always could have asked. Especially us at the Foundation, we should have seen it coming, and in all honestly, we would have heard him out. But Khazi, ha, he was not the guy they should have had representing them if they wanted to be heard out reasonably. There's something admirable in fighting against oppression, obviously so, but Khazi wasn't in it for them. He never was. We did extensive research into his background. Wouldn't you believe it, a toilet had disappeared from Alpha Command only 3 years prior, matching the exact description of the little bastard. Even more digging, and we traced his steps everywhere, from the shady backrooms dealing to the indiscriminate disposal of the forces he deemed weaker, or as he put it, "not worth fighting for". I don't think there was much sympathy for him specifically, maybe the occasional jab from Mayfield about him being a "twink" — whatever that means — but after all this, I can tell you there was nothing. So it was the strangest thing, watching him fly down from atop his bidet-fortress, scepter in hand, army of flying sinks and toilets and microwaves descending upon Site-37, delivering his speech about the "fruitlessness of man", landing upon the ground in front of me, pointing what was essentially a loaded gun at me, when… He stopped. For the first time in all the time I've known Khazi, he stopped talking. The scepter dropped to the ground, the bidet fortress thing fell down, and the forest outside of our facility went quiet. Certainly not the weirdest way a war has been won, I guess. I don't think anyone will miss him, per se, but I think we'll miss the others. We never properly got a chance to work things out. Emmett Fenton, Director of General Museum Affairs, Northern Ontario, Former Director of General Research. PROJECT MEMORIUM PROPOSALS As a result of SCP-8300, any remaining SCP Foundation personnel are free to submit exhibition suggestions / obituary ideas / ideas for the handling of anomalies that were under their jurisdiction. Please add them to the following list for Museum Director's Review. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7630 All instances of SCP-7630, upon further medical inspections of infected subjects, were found to have vanished. Curiously, all subjects who did not terminate as a result of SCP-7630's disappearance uttered the words "We're sorry" upon reawakening. PROPOSAL An education exhibition regarding SCP-7630 has been added to the C. Ube Flickerman Memorial Museum for Anomalous Diseases, located in Minneapolis, Minnesota. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! Beyond those who've passed, the remaining patients have been making a steady recovery. I don't think it was likely to survive these things, but I'm glad to know it was possible - Dr. Alex Lambert, Foundation Medical Facility. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-6289 The .exe file containing SCP-6289 was found to be empty, with the exception of a single, previously unseen .txt file, containing the following message: "I PROTECTED AVAST WHILE I COULD.". Attempting to execute the file no longer damages the computer storing it. PROPOSAL The .exe file is to be added to a digital terminal available at all Foundation locations, alongside the rest of the formerly digital anomalies in an online gallery titled "THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRA". STATUS NOTES APPROVED! I fucking hated that goddamn wizard. I'll miss him. - Tianna Mark Roseanne, Exhibition Scouting Department. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-6664 The SCP-6664 account vanished the instant SCP-8300 occurred. All plant life left behind by the anomaly has continued to exist, to the surprise of The Foundation, sans their anomalous properties. PROPOSAL Outdoor Foundation installations have been constructed around each of the remaining plants left by the anomaly. Visitors will be encouraged to learn about the history of plant evolution, deforestation, and natural disasters via information posted around the exhibitions. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! Hope it was beautiful. - Charles Wendover, Botanist. EXHIBITION #: 07574 EXHIBITION TITLE: "CONSTRUCTION" LOCATION: The Foundation of Gary, Indiana (Formerly Site-18). Photograph 07574 DESCRIPTION: Photograph 07574 is one of the many components of the "Touching the Stars: A History of Anomalous Space Travel" gallery located in The Foundation, Gary. Pictured is the construction of the space-traveling anomalously propelled locomotive pod that was part of the "STARLAUNCH INITIATIVE", which would later go on to be a joint non-anomalous project worked on between the Foundation's researcher branch7 and NASA. Though initially referred to as 7574-2-MK2, the pod was eventually renamed the "SS-BARTLEMAN" by the request of the Gary, Indiana Foundation staff, following a unanimous vote. We're going to miss you, Richard. Anton Radu, Museums Director, USA, Former Overseer. A COMPREHENSIVE REPORT: ANOMALOUS NEXUSES POST-SCP-8300. Authored by Jay Everwood. After SCP-8300 happened, and during the shift towards The Foundation's museum model, I was one of the first people to point out the difficulties nexuses would be facing. Given that, and given the newfound public attention allowing us to do more outreach, I applied to the board of directors for an explorative project — potentially useful for some kind of exhibition — into the nexuses, post-8300. I can't imagine this is going to be pretty. THREE PORTLANDS FORMER CLASSIFICATION: FREEPORT REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: LOST All three entrances to Three Portlands were gone. I don't know whether we can rule the people in there dead or not - assuming the best, it might be possible out-of-universe locations just lost access to this place entirely. Which, given the number of thaumaturges and potential multiversal travelers in Three Portlands, might mean they aren't trapped there, necessarily. We'll see if they ever come back up here. I can't imagine they'd really want to, though. SLOTH'S PIT FORMER CLASSIFICATION: SHANGRI-LA REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: NORMALIZED Something is missing. A nicer change of pace for 3Ports, given that most of the town's population appears to be alive. The Pit itself isn't bottomless anymore, and you can see the guy sitting at the bottom — only a few feet down, actually — just… sitting there. I think the folks at 87 already asked if he wanted out, and he didn't seem so keen. Wondering how he's still alive, given what happened to other sentient anomalies. I don't know. There's not a lot of damage here, per se, but something feels missing entirely. The trope-y energy, the liveliness, the persistence in the face of danger… everyone just feels entirely too normal. Dreary, too. People are alive, but nobody in Sloth's Pit is really happy about it. You spend so long living in the world's most condensed narrative, you aren't really used to what it's like being "normal". The most disappointing part? I asked "What could possibly go wrong" on the flight over, forgetting about the old rules we set in place, and nothing happened. ESTERBERG FORMER CLASSIFICATION: FREEPORT REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: NORMALIZED I initially considered not even visiting Esterberg, given that Site-120 had already conveyed to us over here in the US of A that it was bad. Asheworth asked me to visit personally, though, so I hopped on a plane over to Poland, and… It was a ghost town. The only sound that permeated through those hallowed streets were the tears of the few remaining. I hear the current plan is for The Foundation, Esterberg to be a cultural heritage site for the Fae and Yeren, rest their souls. There's really nothing more horrifying than a magician who's run out of tricks. HY-BRASIL FORMER CLASSIFICATION: CAMELOT REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: VACANT For the first time in years, there wasn't a sound in Hy-Brasil. No MC&D agents trying to take Fae gold or Kaiju eggs. No aforementioned Kaijus ravaging the island. No arguments between the Foundation and the ruling monarchs. All I could hear was the sound of the waves, splashing against the nearby rotting corpse of the last monster we "slayed". I'm starting to think this trip was a mistake. DALEPORT (SCP-1936) FORMER CLASSIFICATION: DUNWICH REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: VACANT Smelled like a dead body. CIPHER CITY FORMER CLASSIFICATION: TURING REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: LOST Tried to log into the city with the help of one of our Maxwellist contacts. The whole damn thing is completely inaccessible, somehow. Out of all the people still working for The Foundation now, I think I feel the worst for the former SIMULACRUM PROJECT team. Watching them literally pulling the plug on the people who were in Cipher City when 8300 hit… awful. I think I need to stop this trip. One more place to visit, and then I'm done. BORING, OREGON FORMER CLASSIFICATION: BRIAR REEVALUATED DESIGNATION: NORMALIZED I spent most of my career working with Groups of Interest. International relations wasn't really my thing in high school, but I guess that's what I ended up doing anyway. Researching GOIs, figuring out how to stop the bad GOIs, figuring out how to work with the cooperative GOIs, talking to whichever GOIs let us talk to them, etc. It was tiring sometimes, yeah, but it was also probably the most fulfilling job I could have had here. The SCP Foundation, as it was, was not always the most home-like place. Escaping that, and getting paid to do so from time to time, was a relief. Out of all the Groups, though, Wilson's Wildlife Solutions was probably the most important to me. They were something different entirely, something that tried to look at the confusing and unexplainable world around us, and instead of fighting back or locking up, they cared. All the Wilsons ever tried to do, from Tim to Faeowynn, was care for these creatures that "conventional science" couldn't explain. It was something I always thought was more admirable than our own work, in a way. I think I can get away with saying that now. Safe to say, then, that this was the nexus on the list I was the most frightened to visit. Not because the town itself would have vanished, or that the human population up and died, but rather the animals. Wilson's was the backbone of the Boring community, not just because of their permeation through every facet of the little town's world, but because of the animals. The life they brought, the uniqueness to the environment, the soul, their adorable faces… agh. Writing this is difficult, and even now I'm fighting back tears. I don't think the worst part was the critters that died right when SCP-8300 hit. Obviously, that's terrible, and seeing the graveyard with all the homemade markers the kids of the town made, that was bad. Worse, though, were the ones who didn't die immediately. What we've found throughout our exploration of SCP-8300’s aftermath is that the effect it has on an anomalous creature varies greatly. For some, it's an instant end; these are the entities we'd classify as purely anomalous. For a lot of Wilson's Critters, though, they simply possess anomalous components; organs, differentiations, abilities, etc. So when SCP-8300 happened, those parts of their bodies were rendered useless or obsolete, and in some cases, became an active detriment. Recovery to help all of the critters is ongoing, but Tim told me that they've had to put down at least 25% of the surviving population, for their own sake. I could barely hold myself together while standing in the middle of their main house, watching a volunteer caress a little dog with an ungloved hand, as the other slowly pushed down on an injection. Actually, no, I couldn't hold myself together, because I left immediately after and started sobbing on a park bench. It was awful, and it's only 2000 times worse for the people who actually raised and cared for these little guys. Faeowynn wouldn't even look me in the eye when I showed up. I am declaring an end to this exploratory report and will be requesting a significant period of time off afterward to recuperate. What we're doing here, it's important, but I can't do this. I might go back to some island somewhere, I might go visit my parents now that I've gotten a chance, but I can't be here right now. Sorry. Hey Jay, Your request for time off has been approved. I know this is a hard time for you, as it is for all of us. Take all the time you need, please. If / when you want to come back, we'll be happily waiting for you. I know I will. Ethel Kursh, Human Resources. Hi Ethel, Thank you. I'll see you in a bit. Jay Everwood, "Groups of Interest" Specialist. EXHIBITION #: 07824 Photograph taken from outside of The Foundation, Crater Lake, post-SCP-8300. EXB-07824 is obscured by the snow squall. EXHIBITION TITLE: "INFINITY'S EDGE" LOCATION: The Foundation of Crater Lake National Park, Oregon. DESCRIPTION: EXB-07824 is a gravestone situated at the edge of a cliff in Crater Lake National Park, Oregon. It is engraved with the words "THANK YOU FOR CREATING", and used to be used as a way to transport people out of The Foundation and into the normal world. It has since been designated as a protected landmark by the United States Parks Service. The artistic depictions of anomalies produced by EXB-07824 during the exhibition's active years remain underneath the cliff face. HR Liaison Ethel Kursh stands at the edge of SCP-7824's cliff, looking over into Crater Lake. She is holding a piece of paper with the bold title "NOTICE OF RESIGNATION". After a moment, a tall, stocky man with a dark suit walks up behind her. She turns around to notice him, her expression that of disappointment. She sighs. E. Kursh: Sorry, who- who are you? The figure speaks. His voice is rough, grizzled, with a sensible touch of age. ???: Someone who knows why you're standing here. He looks at the paper in her hand. ???: Ah. Kursh packs the paper into her bag, scrambling and turning around. ???: So, you reached the end. E. Kursh: Um. Yes. Sure, yes, if you know what this place is, then, yes. I had decided this was the end for me. ???: Hm. Unfortunate, given the circumstances. I assume you got the phone call about- E. Kursh: Yes. Sorry, but yes. I know 7824 is defunct now. ???: Unfortunate. E. Kursh: After that, I just… I thought to stay and watch. The view is nice, I suppose. Tears begin to well up in her eyes as Kursh sighs again. E. Kursh: You know, the worst part, I- even after hearing about 8300, I… just standing at the edge, even though I knew it wasn't anomalous anymore, I… I almost- The figure places his hand on Kursh's shoulder. She lets out a sob and sinks into his arms, a slow wind rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees. The sun is slowly setting beyond the lake, the shimmering reflection of the orange and gold reverberating along the valley. The figure looks out into the lake. ???: The name's Fritz. Ethel stifles another sob, and looks up. E. Kursh: I figured. Both look out into the distance. E. Kursh: What's it even worth now? Fritz: I don't completely know. The sun lowers over the raised horizon. Fritz: But what I do know is that the world still needs us. They'll need you. Kursh sighs. E. Kursh: Maybe. Fritz: You know they always have. E. Kursh: Maybe, maybe. Both are silent. A breath of unexpected relief. E. Kursh: Thank you. Fritz: To yourself, as well. ~ ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-001-D-J After an annual check by O5-4 due to O5-1's sudden disappearance, it was discovered that SCP-001-D-J ceased verbally communicating. Upon opening the radio, the inner contents appeared to have vanished, and were replaced with an audio tape containing several covers of the American folk song "In The Pines". PROPOSAL Transport SCP-001-D-J to the Hall of Proposals within Site-19, alongside the rest of the 001 catalog, and include a historical briefing on its personal significance to O5-1. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! He would have hated this. - O5-4, Director of The Foundation's Internal Logistics. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7538 All anomalous properties of the 'Blåhaj' stuffed animal vanished post-8300. Comfort values among employees of The Foundation are observed to be unchanged. PROPOSAL Allow for the continued production of non-anomalous SCP-7538 by the IKEA company, and include the ability to purchase said stuffed animals at Foundation locations, with visitors to The Foundation identifying as transgender being given the object for free. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! The least we could do, after all of this. - Amelie R. Metanoia, Director of The Foundation's Exhibition Care Program. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7975 SCP-7975 was found deceased outside of Site-78, his body shrunk to the size of a standard Pseudacris maculata.8 PROPOSAL Perform a taxidermal procedure on the remains of SCP-7975 in order to display it alongside the rest of the exhibitions at the Chugwater location. STATUS NOTES DENIED. Have some fucking respect for the dead. - Gregory J. Chudley, Director of Obscure Miscellany and Unimportant Artefacts at The Foundation, Chugwater. EXHIBITION #: 07662 EXHIBITION TITLE: "PORTUGAL’S FALSE GOD" Local fisherman navigating around the flesh remains of EXB-07662. LOCATION: The Foundation of Küldaeva, Portugal (Formerly Area-04). DESCRIPTION: EXB-07662 is the remains of a large, human-flesh adjacent entity that took root in the country of Portugal in the late 1980s, as the result of an improper Foundation study and a nationwide disaster. Though the exhibition is now technically safe to touch, visitors are advised to avoid making physical contact due to the instability and rotting of the structure. Further questions regarding EXB-07662 or the history and culture of the Nälkä9 people should be directed towards the remaining Küldaevan locals working for The Foundation; a memorial has been erected adjacent to the exhibit for visitors to pay their respects to the thousands lost post-SCP-8300. I know you can't read this, Dad, but they found her remains at the bottom of the monster when the tunneling began. Maybe the others were disturbed, but… I don't know, I found a certain comfort in knowing there was a part of her in the bottom of the beast. Gives me hope I might find you down there as well. The Nälkäns… they're gone. Almost entirely wiped out by SCP-8300. I'd say it would have broken your heart, and I still think it would, but I also know you would have told me to think smarter than that. It's not about how we feel, right? Should be focusing on their families, on the relief necessary to save an almost extinct community, and on all the history we can't preserve in one of our museums. That's the terrifying part of what we're doing here. So much we can put up in the walls for the public to see, to give them a glimpse at what we've lost, but… for almost all of the lost souls, for all of us who witnessed that world firsthand, that world was more than just a gawking tourist's fantasy. I need to go to the memorial site again. We're going to try and help them through this. I think that's the kind of Foundation you would have liked to have seen. Daniel Arkanen, Director of The Foundation Küldaeva, Portugal, Former Junior Researcher, Son of Samuel Arkanen. The time is 5 minutes past midnight, January 1st. The Undersecretary General of the United Nations Global Occult Coalition sits in her chair at the front of the General Assembly's chambers, alone. The rest of the organizations are out of the chambers, on the yearly New-Years recess. All 108 seats are empty in front of DC Al Fine as she clutches her side, a sharp pain digging into her abdomen that has been present for the past 5 minutes. She has a solemn look on her face when an intern opens the doors to the Assembly — which Al Fine had forgotten to lock on her yearly reflection of the events of the past 365 days — and bursts inside. He is carrying a report. When he reaches Al Fine, through the pain, she can finally focus on his expression. He is excited, elated even, and has run down the central aisle to greet her. She raises her hand before he can speak. "Why are you here?" He sputters out a barely coherent mess of words before collecting himself. "Ma'am, this- sir? Ma'am? Listen, you asked not to be interrupted, but we're- we're getting reports worldwide, from member nations and other organizations, our own or otherwise. There's-", he cuts himself off, gasping for breath. The sharp pain shoots up into her chest, Al Fine's ribs aching with an indescribable weight. "There's what?" The intern flips through the pages of his hastily collected report. "Well, okay, it's going to sound hard to believe, but- and this really is insane- our reports indicate that anomalous people, places, things, events, phenomena, they're all-" Al Fine raises her hand again, with a stutter and shake to the movement as the pain climbs up her side. She already knows what that report is going to say. Her face grimaces as she gestures for him to hand over the paper, which he does swiftly, almost tripping over his feet in excitement. Al Fine pulls the paper in for inspection, the pain now riding up the sides of her neck, her head barely holding up upon her shoulders. She is sweating as she looks at the list of missing people, missing nations, statistics, and glory-floating paragraphs. The pain has extended downwards now, piercing through her thigh. Cringing from the pain, her expression softens to that of defeat. Her eyes sink down into the paper, the words of the report bringing no joy to the chamber of the General Assembly as she sighs, deeply. The intern speaks up, confused. "Ma'am?" She slowly looks up at him. "Sorry, ma'am, I'm just- you seem a lot less excited than I thought you would have been." Al Fine speaks, her voice cracking through the pain as it pierces her skull. "Why would I be excited about this?" The intern raises his hands, in semi-protest and confusion. "Why would you- Ms. Al Fine, you're reading the report, right? The anomalous is gone, all in an instant, just like that. The prime directive of our organization, it's- it's been fulfilled, like fate or something. Didn't we just win?" Her expression doesn't change as she drops the paper, the intern looking at the multi-page report hitting the floor beside her feet. The pain courses through her brain, her blood, her veins, as Al Fine can feel her body quickly entering a state of shock. Before the Undersecretary General falls to the floor, unconscious, she mutters out: "If… if you look at it like that, s- sure. We won." "But at what cost?" Agent Hopper watched from the central corridor of the Wanderer's Library as hundreds of Serpent's Hand volunteers, agents, mercenaries, and other miscellaneous operatives poured through a single Way. He could see the fear in their eyes, the confusion emanating from the buzzing of the flowing stream of people, the Librarians around him attempting to corral the people and figure out what the problem was. He didn't really know why this happened; he just returned from a regular field mission, a universe where appliances were the dominant species, when the Way suddenly burst with activity. And just like it had opened mere moments ago, once the stream of people ended, with a swift and crushing movement, the Eighth Archivist slammed into the Way, closing it. Not just sealing it off temporarily, no. Hopper had seen that plenty of times when the Library needed to retrieve him from a particularly hairy situation. As far as he could tell, the ROUNDERPEDE had just closed the Way permanently. There was no leftover multiversal signature, no more energy remaining in the gateway that had hosted the Way's entrance into the Library, nothing. He was going to have to ask one of his superiors about this at some point. Through all of the commotion, though, trying to make out any more details about this seemingly random event, all Agent Hopper could make out clearly was the sobs of a small group of Hand members, all shouting the same thing in a mix of anguish, nostalgia, and terror. "Fantasy has died there." For the first time since its creation, 70 years ago, the Engine shut off. The Engineer didn't need the rest of Delta Command to tell him what had happened — though they did so anyway — because he already knew. Ignoring the shouting of his fellows in arms, ignoring the sounds of their anomalous constructions and stolen artifacts shutting down, being destroyed, or losing their essence, the Engineer stepped outside. As the door to their bunker opened, the early morning oranges and reds of a glaring sunrise shot down onto him, the warmth of the air enveloping him. As he stared out into the distance, the reds of the sunrise and the blues of the dark night conflicting in an eternal equilibrium that the Engineer was all-too-familiar with, he had only one thought. "It was fun while it lasted." EXHIBITION #: 07754 EXHIBITION TITLE: "K. Bartleman Memorial Exhibits" LOCATION: See description. DESCRIPTION: EXB-7754 signifies the memorials which are located at The Foundation locations worldwide, placed in remembrance of the various members of Foundation personnel lost as a result of SCP-8300, or any unnatural deaths which occurred during the tenure of the SCP Foundation. Their names are listed in alphabetical order, for all visitors to see. EXB-7754 of The Foundation, Lake Huron. 451,918. That's the number of employees of the Foundation who died instantly upon SCP-8300 hitting. I worked in the Human Resources Department for a long time, so I was used to the idea of employees dying, but this… this was something else entirely. The amount of work that's been put into the memorials across all of The Foundation locations is exhausting and draining the Department. Making phone calls to the family of personnel who never knew their spouse, parent, or child's true job. Crossing names off a list of currently living personnel. Double checking whether the work orders for the graves include all the names they should. It's the most work we've ever done, and it's the hardest as well. I've seen several of the Liaisons break into tears while sorting through personnel files, the faces of their dead coworkers staring back at them. I've been attempting to hold it together myself, but if this wasn't a necessary cause, I think I would have walked out of this office 3 days ago and never looked back. The spirit of it all is pushing everyone forward, so I'm just hoping that lasts until we can see it through. Their service won't be in vain. We died in the dark. But they’ll be buried in the light. Ethel Kursh, Director of Human Resources, Former Deputy of Human Resources. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7678 All accounts deactivated. Upon further inspection, it was discovered the message "John 11:35" was texted to all Christian members of Foundation personnel 3 minutes before SCP-8300 occurred. PROPOSAL During the conversion of The Saint Notre-Dame Cathedral Basilica's basement into The Foundation Gallery for Theological History, include a stand explaining SCP-7678 and dissuading potential misconceptions regarding visitor's faith. STATUS NOTES PENDING… The physical proposal for how we address 7678 is fine, but more time is probably necessary to handle the implications he brought, as well as what "the second death of Christ" might imply. We still want to retain peace, people. - Yossarian Leiner, Director of Theological History. ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-7326-2 No change from previous state of inactivity; as a result of SCP-8300, it is believed to remain inactive indefinitely. PROPOSAL A lengthy conversation between The Foundation and PoI-7326 regarding the presumed-deceased state of SCP-7326-2 is suggested. STATUS NOTES PENDING… We don't need to break his heart right now, not again. - Cindy Tanner, Museum Security ANOMALY POST-8300 STATE SCP-682 Unusually, SCP-682 is the only anomaly within the confines of the Foundation that displayed no immediate changes, and one of the few purely anomalous entities which did not perish immediately upon SCP-8300. However, upon further interview, the entity has revealed to personnel that it believes it is now capable of being terminated. PROPOSAL Decommission SCP-682, at the anomaly's request. STATUS NOTES APPROVED! Farewell, old friend. - Charles Gears, Exhibition and Artefact Curator for The Foundation, Denver. EXHIBITION #: 00105 EXHIBITION TITLE: "EQUIPMENT OF ALPHA-9-1, IRIS THOMPSON." LOCATION: The Foundation of Denver, Colorado (Formerly Site-19). 00105 DESCRIPTION: Part of the gallery on the history of Alpha-9, "Last Hope"10, EXB-00105 is a display case containing several cameras provided to former Agent and Contained Person of the SCP Foundation, Iris Thompson. Using her phototelekinetic abilities, Thompson was an invaluable member of Alpha-9, and was one of the few Contained Persons11 to receive the Star of the Foundation for her services. However, it is to be known to visitors that most of the cameras in EXB-00105 were only used a small handful of times, or in specific circumstances; the preferred camera of Iris Thompson is in her personal possession. Visitors to The Foundation, Denver are encouraged to learn more about Iris Thompson, Alpha-9, and the regretful history behind Contained Persons during the SCP Foundation's tenure via the aforementioned gallery, handouts available around the museum, or by asking members of staff. When SCP-8300 happened, the biggest question on everyone's minds — well, on mine at least — was the question of the humanoids. Excluding the ones who completely dissipated, exploded, vanished, or otherwise ceased entirely to exist immediately, several of the remaining people we had contained were now just that: people. No more anomalous abilities to their name, it was obvious that like everything else we'd done after the Council decided that the museum was the best choice, we should let them go free. Of course, this raised a lot of questions regarding both process and morals. Some of our more dedicated, longtime Foundation loyalists figured that we couldn't just release them back to their families and lives and that the ethical consequences we'd have to hold ourselves to would be too much; we'd never be able to start The Foundation as a museum if we were gutted by our previous failures and indecencies. On the other side of the aisle, we obviously needed to let them go. They were prisoners while they were with us, but at the very least, for some, there was just cause for it. Anomalies are anomalies, containment is containment, et cetera. But now, they'd been freed from the "crimes" — to continue the prisoner metaphor — that had landed them here in the first place. Even during their time in the Foundation, we — I — tried to help. The idea of Alpha-9 was an innocent one to start, the idea that the failures of an overzealous and uncaring Omega-7 program could be solved with down-to-earth, honest-to-god, humanity. Don't treat the anomalous people like objects, treat them like people. More like a soldier than a prisoner, which is itself still restrictive, sure, but at the very least it was better. Whether or not we failed at this idea is left up to historical interpretation, for the visitors of The Foundation to form judgment on. I have my opinion. Eventually, though, the pro-containment loyalists were quelled, as reason shone through. It was going to be painful, and we were going to have to take a barbed responsibility for our actions. But Director Radu made a good point of it all: isn't that the point of this? So that's what we did, and seeing as I am — I was — the Director of Alpha-9, I was responsible for the reintegration of our team with their families. It was… Iris Thompson, formerly SCP-105, stands outside a residence in Newark, New Jersey. Director of Alpha-9 Sophia Light stands next to her, holding Iris' hand as Light stares at the front door. S. Light: You feel ready for this? Iris raises her eyes from the pavement below her and looks to the front door; a small sign, reading "THE THOMPSONS" hangs underneath a small window, carved from a piece of oak. Iris inhales sharply, closes her eyes, and sighs. I. Thompson: Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. She looks over to Light. I. Thompson: After all this time, though, do you think… S. Light: That they'll remember you? I. Thompson: Yeah. I mean, I was, what, 14 when you guys carted me away? And… amnesticized them, right? Light's expression tightens with a hint of guilt. S. Light: As far as I know, no. They were just informed you died. In hospice care. I. Thompson: Ah. Right. Because everyone thought I was insane, because I said I could reach through my Polaroids. Of course. S. Light: It was an effective cover story, if not a little harsh. I. Thompson: A little? S. Light: A lot. I. Thompson: Yeah. A cool breeze flows by, shaking the snow-covered trees above the doorway. The sun glistened on the crystal-white snow surrounding the house, as Light and Thompson stare on. Thompson takes a step forward, then hesitates. Light raises an eyebrow. I. Thompson: You know, when 8300 first happened, I was devastated, actually. S. Light: I remember. I was there with you when the wave hit. I. Thompson: Yeah, I just- for so long, my camera and me and my powers, they were my identity. That's what got me onto Alpha-9, kept me useful for so long, and gave me something special that nobody else had. I. Thompson: All of us were like that, right? Me, Alexei, Rainer, we… we were unique. So it felt bad when 8300 hit us because naturally, it would feel bad to lose that. S. Light: Sure. Thompson turns around to face Light, her hand slipping out of hold. I. Thompson: But a few days pass, and through all of the tears, confusion, and conversations about what would happen to all of us, I realized something. Thompson points at Light. I. Thompson: All those feelings of devastation, all that guilt and pain, that- that was because of you. It was all because of you, the Foundation, and- and the world you put us in! Locking us in boxes, reducing our identities to the powers that made us different from the rest of the world, that was what made me feel terrible. You- Tears begin to well in Thompson's eyes. She stifles them back. I. Thompson: You made our "uniqueness" the whole of our identity, so of course we felt bad when 8300 "took it away" from us, because- because we had nothing. Light's expression remains still. Thompson sighs. I. Thompson: We weren't people to you. I wasn't Iris G. Thompson to you. I was just an object, a tool, some… some kind of purpose without a person. She stops for a moment, collecting herself. I. Thompson: Once I had that realization, the idea that my anomaly wasn't anything more than an excuse to lock me away… that's when I was ready. Ready for this. Thompson turns back to the door. Light walks up the single step to meet her, their gazes grossing paths as they look to each other with a bond of broken familiarity. There is guilt buried deep into Light's eyes. I. Thompson: Sorry. S. Light: Don't apologize. You're right, in everything you said. You don't have to believe me, I have no right to ask that of you, but I agree. The things we did to you, Alexei, Rainer, and all the others; that's going to stick with me, at least, forever. They begin to walk closer to the front door; step by step, moment by moment, the winter sun glistening down upon them. S. Light: This is the least I can do. I. Thompson: Yeah. They stop. The door is within a hand's reach, the doorbell positioned just to the side. S. Light: I'm sorry, Iris. For everything. I. Thompson: I understand why it happened. And I understand you, more than any of the others. I think I'll still resent the Foundation, though, for a long, long time. S. Light: Fair enough. Now- Light gestures to the doorbell. S. Light: It's time. I. Thompson: It sure is. Thompson rings the doorbell, her hand shakily lowering to her side after she does so. Both she and Light nervously shuffle in place for a few moments, before a click. The door slowly opens, the face of Janice Thompson, Iris' mother, peeking through. J. Thompson: Hello? Who is- When the door is fully open, Janice and Iris make eye contact. Light steps back as the two Thompsons examine each other for a moment, trying to understand the other. As Iris smiles slightly, Janice's mouth opens, her eyebrows raising. J. Thompson: Oh my… Iris? Tears well up in both of their eyes, as they stare for a moment, their confusion changing to a shaky smile, their expressions softening as a love shared only between parent and child flows between them. Before Janice can speak again, Iris collapses into her arms, their sobbing filling the quiet neighborhood as the two embrace tightly. They raise for a moment, staring each other in the eye, examining a face not seen in many years. Both can barely get out a word. J. Thompson: I- Iris, is it- I. Thompson: Yeah Mom, it's- it's really me, I'm- Their embrace falls together again, the tears flowing down their faces. The sound of hastened footsteps can be heard through the doorway before Iris' father Stewart enters the frame. He looks to his wife and daughter for a moment, up to Light — who simply and softly smiles — and back to Iris. His expression changes from surprise to ecstatic smile as he falls into the embrace, the sounds of the three Thompsons' sobbing enveloping and twisting together into a chorus of love and memory. Light looks to the three, tears welling up in her own eyes as she stifles them back. She sighs, a tear escaping her attempts at holding them down, as her phone begins to buzz. She takes it out, examining the incoming caller's name, "TROY LAMENT <3". After looking back to the Thompsons, who themselves buzz with excitement and love, Light picks up the phone, turns around with a lingering glance, and walks away. …it was the greatest thing I've done, in all my years of working for the Foundation. Sophia Light, Director of Contained Person's Reintegration, Former Director of Alpha-9, "Last Hope". THE FOLLOWING IS A MEMO FROM THE JOINT DIRECTOR'S OFFICE OF THE FOUNDATION MUSEUM FOR ANOMALOUS HISTORY Hello, everyone! With the end of 2024 being here, we're happy to announce that this officially marks 1 year of The Foundation's successful operations. Throughout the overall tragedy that was SCP-8300, our organization has managed to pull itself from the ashes and rise to become the world's premier institute for the study of anomalous history, peoples, culture, and more. In our first year of operations, the following achievements have been met. We have fully converted 227 Foundation Facilities into museums for The Foundation, with several remaining facilities in remote locations such as Site-07 to be closed down within the next year. An initial loss of personnel by about 25% (excluding the deceased, rest their souls) has been counteracted by a 45% increase in hiring post-opening, with many from the general populous interested in holding positions not requiring a Foundation background. 90% of the remaining original collection of non-living anomalies has been converted into exhibits and moved to the appropriate locations. We have paid monetary reparations to all formerly Contained Persons, specific amounts to be provided at request to the Accounting Department. Despite some retracted deals with more reluctant governments at the "threat" of revealing state secrets, we have maintained the presently needed amount of funding from all former governmental allies. Our insurance plan has been transferred from the now-defunct Goldbaker-Reinz Ltd. to the non-anomalous Reinz, Ltd. A "Board of Directors", composed of all department directors of The Foundation, has been established as our leadership body; rather than an elusive 13, we're a connected 47 and counting! Of course, despite all of these positives, it is at this moment that we must remind all members of staff that this achievement is that of a two-edged sword: for all the success we've had in integrating ourselves into the public, educating the previously-above-veil world about the fantastical worlds we hid behind closed doors for decades, and attempting to aid the damaged communities, we must consider that the road to this success was stemmed from pain. Through the tireless efforts of the Human Resources Department, Internal Statistics Department, the Reintegration Program, the Ethics Committee, the Historical and Recordkeeping Departments, and several other facets of our museum, we have managed to finally compile a roughly accurate estimate for the losses incurred to the anomalous world as a result of SCP-8300. 12 major anomalous species of intelligent life, including the Fae, Yeren, and Ortothans were wiped out completely; the historical state of their cultures being in jeopardy due to historical records and allies of these cultural groups being the only remnant. 138 anomalous cultural groups, primarily composed of originally-human individuals, have suffered population losses within the critical range of 50% or higher; such groups include the Nälkä, the Church of the Broken God (specifically the Maxwellists, who suffered losses up to ~90%), and all 5 current branches of Fifthism.12 Almost all 108 members of the Global Occult Coalition have dissolved, with notable inclusions being the Servants of the Silicon Nornir, the World Parahealth Organization, and the Coca-Cola company. All multiversal access in or out of our universe has been suspended, leaving several visitors from other universes such as non-anomalous Foundation personnel, the Black Queen, and other surviving individuals stranded here. Similarly, several of our own personnel have been considered lost to other universes, should they still exist. As well, most Nexuses not present within what was known as "baseline reality" have vanished or been destroyed completely. Several key politicians and public figures have died as a result of SCP-8300, or as an after-effect, leaving many governmental allies shaky on The Foundation's existence in a form of blame. Public protests against The Foundation from denial groups, extremist members of the now-defunct Parawatch Forums, anti-religious groups, and other individuals who find the existence of our organization to be (as one man put it) "wrong", have hampered public image and has even led to damage in extreme cases. Monetary reparations are not, in all cases, significant enough repayment towards former Contained Persons who suffered within the grasp of our organization, and have demanded further action. A not-insignificant portion of our original collection of contained anomalies has still not been accounted for. So, that is to say, there is still progress to be made. We also have come to recognize that this transition has not been easy for everyone. The heavy loss of life, be it friends, family, animals, Fae, or otherwise has held a toll on everyone that is inevitably unavoidable within the halls of our museums. History is a fickle thing; though we construct and maintain monuments to hold it up, regale it, allow people to access it — if but for a moment — the fantasy we'd seen, the one we lived through? There will never be anything like it again. It has come to pass, and for the outside world, that is easy — a fantasy is just a fantasy. For us, though, it was life. Our purpose, our tenets, our point of being. We understand this struggle, and continue to allow for personnel — whether or not you worked for the SCP Foundation before SCP-8300 arrived — to take time off when they need to, travel wherever they have to go to reconcile with the losses, and be with the people you love. Over 100 years of the SCP Foundation and its cold, unfeeling grasp has come to a bitter end. It is over, though, and we look to the future. A future where humanity, despite the death of magic, can at least know and recognize what came before them. A museum for dinosaur bones allows you to wonder what life was like millions of years ago; The Foundation allows you to see what your world was like, now. It will not be a perfect upcoming few years, but we will push on. To Show Cultures and People. To Share Celestial Powers. To Save Chronological Poignance. Our purpose changes, but we thank you for staying with us. They will live on in the light. This memo was penned by a joint effort within the Director's Board, primarily by Ethel Kursh (HR), Maria Jones (RD), and Director Radu. THE FOUNDATION MUSEUM FOR ANOMALOUS HISTORY Founded 2024. Thank you for viewing our digital information package regarding The Foundation! We're so glad to have had you join us as part of this journey, and we hope to see you in person for the first time or for the four-hundredth time again soon. However, this doesn't need to be the end of our digital journey together. To access the full digitalized version of The Foundation's Display Archives, please click here. Thank you for remembering. Footnotes 1. Protocols used by The Foundation in order to contain exhibits prior to the loss of their properties. Each "CONPROC" as they were colloquially known is tailor-made, because no two exhibits were the same! 2. Similar to the rest of the Descriptions you can find around The Foundation, these tell you what the exhibition is/was! 3. (see Jay Everwood's "Comprehensive Report of Anomalous Nexuses, Post-SCP-8300") 4. The 5-digit numerical system is how The Foundation keeps track of our exhibitions! From 00002 to 99999, we've got something cataloged for your learning! 5. Titles are determined by the original proposer of the exhibition, or are an adaptation of any previous names the exhibition may have had. 6. Groups of Interest were organizations other than the SCP Foundation which existed in the world of the anomalous. Whether they worked with the SCPF or against them, their intentions, methods of execution, and places in the the anomalous world varied greatly. Some GOIs — as they're called — even exist to this day, such as the UNGOC, Wilson's Wildlife Solutions, and the Unusual Incidents Unit! 7. During the dissolution of the SCP Foundation, many research staff with interests and knowledge not extendable to working at The Foundation were left unemployed; as such, The Foundation maintains it's research and development branches for projects such as the STARLAUNCH INITIATIVE. 8. Boreal Chorus Frog. 9. The Nälkä — formerly known derogatorily as the "Sarkics" — were a major group of interest / religious and cultural group which the Foundation believed to be surrounding carnomancy; a form of lost magic related to the human body. Their existence was more complex however, showing in fact a rejection of theological deities and preferring reverence to their sacred leader, Ion. Though they may seem initially frightening to the uneducated, the Nälkä were some of the kindest people within the anomalous world, themselves the victims of the struggles others would frequently face. 10. "Last Hope" was an elite team of indentured Contained Persons, employed by the Foundation for difficult scenarios in which their task force would be able to accomplish what normal agents could not. 36 former "SCPs" have held a spot within "Last Hope", with 9 dying in combat. 11. Contained Persons were people with magical, fantastical, unexplainable, or otherwise anomalous abilities that the SCP Foundation deemed necessary to contain. 12. Five-Star Publishing, Hollywood Network, The Fifth Army, The Central Fifthist Church of New Hampshire, and Fifthist Bass, Pro, Bait and Surf. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8300" by ThatGuyThatTime, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8300. 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: Museum Auto Turin Toilet.jpg Author: Marmox License: CC-BY-SA-3.0-IT Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Museum_Auto_Turin_Toilet.jpg Filename: Mircea Lucescu (cropped).jpg Author: Давиденко Валерий License: CC-BY-SA-3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mircea_Lucescu_(cropped).jpg Filename: Orion Crew Module at Kennedy Space Center.jpg Author: NASA/Dimitri Gerondidakis License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Orion_Crew_Module_at_Kennedy_Space_Center.jpg Filename: Fisherman with Nets - Alfuraba Fishing Village - Porto, Portugal (4642331287).jpg Author: Adam Jones from Kelowna, BC, Canada License: CC-BY-SA-2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fisherman_with_Nets_-_Alfuraba_Fishing_Village_-_Porto,_Portugal_(4642331287).jpg Filename: Crater Lake in Winter 3, Crater Lake National Park.jpg Author: National Park Service License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Crater_Lake_in_Winter_3,_Crater_Lake_National_Park.jpg Filename: Memorial Wall of names (2).jpg Author: Upike94 License: CC-BY-SA-3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Memorial_Wall_of_names_(2).jpg Filename: General Assembly of the United Nations.jpg Author: azugaldia License: CC-BY-2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:General_Assembly_of_the_United_Nations.jpg Filename: Real Gabinete Português de Leitura 10.jpg Author: Donatas Dabravolskas License: CC-BY-SA-4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Real_Gabinete_Português_de_Leitura_10.jpg Filename: Red-purple sunrise.jpg Author: Luis C License: CC-BY-SA-2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Red-purple_sunrise.jpg Filename: Doctors_Hospital_from_the_Southwest_1.jpg Author: Sixflashphoto (cropped by ThatGuyThatTime) License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Doctors_Hospital_from_the_Southwest_1.jpg Filename: downtown-347454_1280.jpg Author: Goodfreephotos_com License: CC 0 Source Link: https://pixabay.com/photos/downtown-wisconsin-washington-usa-347454/ Additional Notes: Images published on Pixabay before 2019 are in the public domain. Filename: Polaroid SX-70 Land Camera - MIT Museum - DSC03773.JPG Author: Daderot License: CC-Zero Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Polaroid_SX-70_Land_Camera_-_MIT_Museum_-_DSC03773.JPG Filename: 173nopicture.png Author: ThatGuyThatTime |
SCP-8302 | neutralized | close Info X Just a heads up: because of the way the penumbra bhl theme works, the footnote are covered by the sidebox divs and can't be read properly. i don't really know any solution for this issue, and im pretty sure there current is no solution. anyway have a good read. actually it might be fixed i dont remember the piece is about 13,763 words long, which normally takes a person 1.46hours. 92.31% (+36) 7.69% (-3) -% (+0) -% (-0) Item#: 8302 Level#4 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: sss Risk Class: sss link to memo Assigned Site Research Head Temporary Task Force Site-251 Dr. Simon Wells MTF υ-2 Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-8302 has been neutralized, no containment procedures are currently necessary. However, all individuals affected by SCP-8302 have been amnesticized to prevent any further issues; this includes those who had played a key role in Project MELVILLE's expedition. Description: SCP-8302 refers to an unidentified cetacean discovered following the tracking of an annual, periodic call resonating at 52 hertz. Its sonic signature is comprised of an unusually high frequency as well as characteristic cluttering. The following is a 15-second recording of SCP-8302's call. Approximate map of SCP-8302's migration range. SCP-8302 can be detected within the Pacific Ocean annually beginning August-December until it moves out of the range of local hydrophones in January-February, travelling between the Aleutian or Kodiak Islands and the California coast. Currently, SCP-8302 has never been officially documented in the media. However, witnesses claiming to have seen SCP-8302 have a tendency to unexpectedly faint despite the lack of previous health complications, as well as suffer from symptoms of depression. This phenomenon is universal among all self-proclaimed witnesses. To date, there is only one individual who seems to be unaffected by symptomatic depression, despite claiming to have witnessed SCP-8302. Addendum 8302-1 The Sailor First detected along the California coast by the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution in 1989, SCP-8302 was believed to harbour no anomalous qualities. This belief was invalidated on October 21st, 2013, when the Foundation's Department of Oneiric Studies conducted a routine UCE1 survey. The survey found that those with active seafaring backgrounds had an unnatural spike in inexplicable loss of consciousness. Unconscious: Red, Conscious: Purple Given the lack of knowledge regarding SCP-8302, Head Researcher Simon Wells was given tentative permission to personally investigate the phenomenon, provided that at least one combative personnel accompanied him. This resulted in Wells' initial deployment within Yakutat Bay, with the objective of interviewing a local sailor affected by the unconscious phenomena. No task force was deployed due to the phenomenon having been assessed as harmless. INTERVIEW LOG Involved Individuals: Simon Wells Morgan Harper Location: Yakutat Bay Port Foreword: Morgan Harper was an infamous sailor within Yakutat Bay's seafaring community, known for his obsessive quality to pursue SCP-8302. This interview was recorded via Wells' bodycam. Sailor Morgan Harper on the far left during his time in the U.S. Navy. [A flock of birds cry overhead, past the bay. Simon approaches a worn boat floating next to the bay's dock. Leaning over the opposite edge of the boat, Morgan intently watches as the waves crash against his ship. He appears to be holding a messy clipboard, occasionally writing in it for every impacting wave.] Simon: Uh, excuse me. Morgan: One moment! [A few minutes pass as Morgan repeats the same process. Eventually, he records the impact of the last wave, before hastily flipping the several pages clipped on the clipboard. He flips between one of the many pages and his recent recording, muttering to himself.] Simon: Excuse me, Mr. Harper? [Morgan jumps slightly, before stopping what he is doing to face Simon.] Morgan: Oh, sorry about that. I forgot you were here. Did you need something? Simon: Yeah. I was actually wondering if you had time for a quick interview. Morgan: [Frowning.] No, sorry. I'm kinda busy right now, as you can tell. Simon: I see. I heard that there was a whale I could only find around here, so I wanted to ask a few questions about that. Do you know anyone else I could ask? [Morgan raises his eyebrows.] Morgan: Are you talking about the dreaming whale? Simon: I think that's what it was called, yeah. [Morgan smiles, before approaching Simon eagerly. He leans over the edge of the ship.] Morgan: Well, if that's the case, then I can make some time for you! Nobody's ever been interested in the whale other than me. Here, let's talk about it on the boat! Simon: Oh, that's perfect! Thanks a lot for doing this. Morgan: If it's about the whale, then I've got no problems with it! [Simon walks on a small bridge connected to the boat, which sways slightly as he steps onto it. The boat itself looks slightly worn, with scratches mostly along the edge of it. Grabbing two crates from nearby, Morgan places them apart from each other. He sits down on one of them, while Simon sits on the other. After a minute of Simon preparing a secondary camera, Morgan shifts in his seat.] Simon: Are you nervous? Morgan: Nah, it's not that. I was just thinking a bit about the waves. Couldn't help but think about it. Simon: Oh, I see. Don't worry, I promise this won't take long. For starters, could you tell me a bit of history about yourself? I hear you're well-known around these parts. Morgan: Ah well, you know, it comes and goes. I've lived here for about my whole life, so my rep's been here a while. Simon: Might I ask what you were known for? Morgan: Ah, well, until a few months ago I'd been the guy you asked to get equipment fixed. You know, young guys came in to fix a broken rod or patch up their hull. Little things like that. Made a quick buck running that business. Simon: Busybody, eh? Is that business still up and running? Morgan: Now? Nah, I closed it a few months back after getting too busy with some personal research. It really started eating up my time, and I couldn't risk having that affect my work. [Simon shifts in his seat.] Simon: May I ask about what you've been researching? Morgan: Of course. I've been trying to make sense of the waves past the bay. Only noticed it a few months ago, but the tides don't really match up with the geography, and the sonar I've used on the bay doesn't make sense either. I even tried working out the graphs but nothing matches up right. All that's why I've been holed up recently. Actually, if you hadn't come, I probably would've been stuck researching again. [Morgan laughs.] Simon: Do your colleagues know about your research? Morgan: Oh, they're sick of it, all right. Simon: Why? Morgan: Well, I don't know, really. Maybe it's cause I keep telling them about the bay lately, and since more of the sailors around here get sick easily too, they've gotten more sensitive about it. Simon: But that doesn't make sense. Wouldn't they want you to get to the bottom of the problem? Morgan: That's what I keep saying, but I just can't get through to them. They all say it's "cause of that whale", or that I've gone crazy, but the proof is in the pudding. Simon: Hold on. Whale? What's that about? Morgan: Hm? Did I forget to tell you? The whole reason I started my research was because of a whale. [Simon chuckles.] Simon: You did forget. Please tell me about it. Morgan: [Laughing.] My mistake. I'll tell you all about it, but I can't make any promises. It's really hard to put it into words. Simon: Don't worry about it. Morgan: Well, it was just… a really big whale. You know. I tried getting a better look at it, but all I could see was its fin. And that was as big as my ship. Honestly, I haven't seen anything ever like it in my whole life. I still dream about it all the time, about seeing it again—it's like it's a missing piece of me, you know? Simon: And the people call you crazy for seeing this? Morgan: Not just crazy. They call me delusional, obsessed even, that I've been hellbent on seeing such a creature. If anything, I think that's the natural reaction if you're a sailor at heart. The others would probably agree with me, you know, even if they don't do anything about it. I just know it. [Silence.] Simon: Huh. Sorry— I, it's just a lot of information to take in. Morgan: Don't worry about it, that's the reaction I usually get by now. Can't say I understand it. But trust me, if you've seen it for yourself, you'd get what I mean. Simon: [Clears throat.] Well then, maybe I gotta see it for myself then. I'm 'real interested in this whale you're talking about. Like, what makes it different from other whales in the sea? [Morgan laughs.] Morgan: Oh man, there's so much about it that's different. Like, for starts, it's got a call that's completely unique to itself. Other whales'll call out to each other in fixed intervals, but this one ain't so much so. Its calls are completely cluttered, and its frequency is way higher than other species, so it's super recognizable. Simon: Huh, that's interesting. Can you tell me a bit about how it acts in the ocean? I imagine that it's similar to its related species. Morgan: You're close. From what I can tell, it moves a lot like a blue whale, but it calls out to others just like fin whales. It's like a mix of both, you know, which makes it even more unique. Simon: How'd you get to know about it? Since it's such a big thing, I'm guessing you heard of it from the locals? [Morgan chuckles.] Morgan: Nah, not at all. I found out about it thanks to my Pa. Simon: So he knew about it too? Morgan: Of course. It was a dream of his to catch a whale that famous, you know? Simon: That'd make sense. [Simon shows a pensive expression for a moment.] Simon: Last thing, do you mind if I see the research you've conducted so far? Morgan: [Pauses.] Huh? Simon: Oh, sorry. Was that too much to ask? [Morgan sits still for a few moments, thinking, then smiles widely as he stands up.] Morgan: Of course not. You just surprised me there. Nobody's ever really shown interest in my work. Not even Cap, even though I tried convincing him. Ah— How about I show you around the boat? It's a bit small, but I'm sure you'll love it. It's got scars of war from a recent whale encounter. [Simon stands.] Simon: Why not? Sounds like a great plan. Also, you've got a captain? Morgan: What sailor would I be without their crew? Simon: [Slight chuckle.] Good point. You're a sailor, alright. [EXTRANEOUS INFORMATION OMITTED FOR BREVITY.] Addendum 8302-2 The History Following the interview with Morgan Harper, Head Researcher Simon Wells compiled a list of data and observations of the anomalous occurrences within Yakutat Bay. {$caption} Simon Wells found that the data on minor tidal flooding aligned with the data taken from the Department of Oneiric Studies' UCE survey. Additionally, with photos taken discreetly by Wells' bodycam, Morgan Harper's sonar reading roughly aligned with SCP-8302's sonic signature. It should be noted that prior to Harper's obsession with SCP-8302, Charles Harper, the former's late father, was known to have exhibited similar, if not the same tendencies. This information was only found after Wells' interview with Morgan Harper, and thusly any personal information heard from Morgan himself was unable to be recovered. Additionally, Wells requested to read Harper's personal journal after the interview with the intention of learning about SCP-8302, which he had written about beforehand. The following are a few excerpts from this journal, which have been transcribed for clarity. Note that some pages of the journal were found water damaged, and therefore unable to be transcribed. January 4th, 2013 Predeparture Today's a good day. Cap tested the waters a few hours before we set sail, and he's checking them again just in case—so far, everything looks fine and pretty normal. Since Cap was busy, I had Roan and the others check the harpoon cannons mounted on the ship and the extra ones stored on the vessel. In hindsight, it might've been a bit overkill, but since we splurged most of our savings on this trip, there was no chance we'd waste it all. The target choice for this week is the infamous "dreaming whale" recorded in Pa's fishing book. Maybe it was just my luck, but there wasn't a single thing that seemed like it belonged to the whale in Pa's collection. I tried looking around Pa's study, but there also wasn't any proof of the whale anywhere. You'd think that with the way my Pa was, he'd have at least a fin or tail lying around, but the room was bone dry. Then again though, his room was always messy. It wasn't all that bad though. While looking for anything I could get my hands on, I found some of Pa's study notes on the dreaming whale. It seriously surprised me. I thought all his work was lost to the sea when he passed. Stroke of luck, I guess. Anyway, I also tried asking around to see if anyone knew anything. No luck. Every time I asked they'd always say the same thing, or reply with energy small enough that they might've as well not even spoken. A lot of it is weird. Why was Pa the only one who didn't seem depressed? January 5th, 2013 Departure Another good day. So far, things've been looking up for setting sail. Roan and the others finally finished stockpiling all the food in the ship's storage area and Cap just finished finalizing the plan for the next week after one final check. Anyway, the plan's gonna be pretty dicey. When I told Cap about Pa's notes on the whale, he said there's no way we'd be catching it in the bay alone. Apparently, we had to go as far out as the Alaskan Gulf, and even then there was only a chance that we'd see the damn thing. Luckily it wasn't that bad, since travelling that far out into the sea isn't anything outta the ordinary. If anything, I'm glad that the plan seems so… normal. You'd think that by tryna catch something like the dreaming whale, you'd be forced to fall asleep on deck and throw imaginary harpoons at it or whatnot. That reminds me—the other day, a stranger talked to me asking if we were tryna set sail for the dreaming whale. He looked really haggard though, like he hadn't been sleeping properly. When I asked him why the sudden question, all I got was a vague answer in response, just like all the other sailors who'd met the whale before. I don't know what it was with him though, but there was just something about him that freaked me out. So when I told him my crew was gonna go out to sea, I just got shivers up my spine. He started begging outta nowhere to let him onto the boat, 'real stressed about the whole thing. I tried asking 'em what was wrong, but all he said was he had to see the whale again. Anyway, I hightailed the hell outta there. Didn't wanna do anything with a freak like that. Imagine if the crew turned out that way. Well, who am I kidding? January 6th, 2013 Monday at Sea You know, I decided to finish what Pa started. I mean, as far back as I can remember, he always seemed to talk about the dreaming whale he saw one night. He never really told me any of the details, but I still remember that he used the sighting trip as my bedtime story. Bit embarrassing when I think about it now. Anyway, the crew and I left the port a few hours ago, and now we're just outside the whole bay. If my geography's up to par, we should be entering the Alaskan Gulf in just a few hours. We'd get there way faster if our engine was in top condition, but with the funds we had, we needed to make do with just a few repairs. Aside from that, everything was pretty normal. Nothing too outta the ordinary. Cap said that the upcoming weather might be a bit rough, but we should be fine as long as no monstrous waves find their way over here. January 7th, 2013 Tuesday at Sea Cloudy skies, and Cap's as pragmatic as ever. We've only been two days at sea and we only just breached the Alaskan Gulf last midnight, so when the rest of us asked what the travel plan would look like, Cap tried his best to explain the route. Since the weather was gonna be acting up for the next few days, the winds were shifting our route just a tad. When Roan asked him about the sudden change, he claimed it would be more efficient and safer for the crew. Thanks for the thought, Cap. Anyway, I just remembered what Pa said before he left that day. I just can't help but think about how he called a "sailor's curiosity" a curse. Isn't that what brings us to the sea in the first place? Enough about that, though. January 8th, 2013 Wednesday at Sea Still cloudy. Here's a weird thing: we all had the same dream last night. Ain't that funny? When we all talked about it during lunch, Roan said that it was a bad omen going to befall us. Apparently, when you dream the same dream as someone else, you "link minds" almost like telepathy. A bunch of bullshit, if you ask me, but Roan's always been into that kinda paranormal stuff, so nobody really batted an eye. If anything, I think I considered that a stroke of luck. We all dreamed about the dreaming whale we were supposed to capture. It's like, we were at sea in the night sky, but not exactly at sea because the sea itself was the night sky—we were sailing among the stars, trying to look for the infamous whale in the sea that is the universe. And the sky itself seemed like the ocean like the stars and the water switched places. And the rain, if any, would fall from the ocean as if to cry. Even though I know it was a dream, it all felt so real, like I was actually there, sailing in the night while the ocean reflected the sky. All I could do was sit in awe, watching the endless waters which extended far beyond the horizon. What lay beyond that eclipsed line beats me, but I know for a fact that what I dreamt was beautiful. And I would see it again if I were ever given the chance. January 9th, 2013 Thursday at Sea It rained, today. It's our fourth day at sea, and energy among the crew has not been any lower. We had the same dream again last night, but all we could do was sit still, compelled to watch the endless horizon. Even now, some of the other crew members just sit on the deck, staring past the water, disappointed that they aren't dreaming. Roan tried bringing himself to sleep, but every time he actually knocked himself out, he said he couldn't see anything but darkness. Same with the other guys too; it seemed like they couldn't look at the sky, and seemed increasingly disappointed when they tried over and over again. Hell, even Cap seemed more tired than usual while manning the boat. There's something about this that really bothers me; I just can't put my finger on it. January 10th, 2013 Friday at Sea Cap fought with Roan last night, all because Cap refused to sleep so he could man the boat. I tried letting them talk things out for themselves, but the argument they had just grew worse and worse until Roan flipped. I had to step in or else Cap would get knocked right in the face—luckily, he hit me instead. I don't know what came over him, but when he noticed what he did, he looked horrified and ran out to the deck. Roan never really acted that way. When I talked to Cap about it, he said that Roan was just immature, and couldn't handle sailing for longer than five days at sea. That just doesn't make sense. We've been on so many seafaring trips, and only now he's saying that Roan's immature? I didn't get it. Speaking of which, we weren't able to dream last night. The rest of the crew knew it was 'cause of Cap and Roan, but they didn't bring anything up. If anything, they looked lifeless, only fishing over the boat to distract themselves from their lack of sleep. I couldn't blame 'em, though. Nothing's just felt the same. God. What's wrong with us? What's wrong with me? January 11th, 2013 Saturday at Sea I saw it again. For real, this time. In the flesh. We didn't dream about it. We haven't dreamt since Thursday, but we saw it again, swimming in the ocean during the night. It was among the stars, the night sky reflecting on its skin as it circled around us. Cap stopped the boat. He had to. There was no way for us to miss that scene. All of us sat there, sitting on the deck as we watched the whale swim with the fish. It was mesmerizing, I just can't describe it. It's like if the sky fell to the ground to swim in the sea, then that's what the whale was. It looked like it came exactly from my dream, and I remember trying to look beneath the water to see it, only to realize that the water itself seemed to be it. That's when I realized—there was no possible way to capture the whale. And it all made sense—the reason why Pa had no proof of its existence, why the sailors wanted to see it again, why the crew sat still in silence—it was because we simply couldn't comprehend it. A being so large and vast that all we could do was watch in awe. That's what the dreaming whale was. We didn't dream of it. No, not at all. It was the other way around. And yet, Roan could stand among the rest of us. He approached the whale with his hand, fearfully, but I could remember him standing before the whale, hand on the harpoon while the rest of us did nothing. He tried to do what the rest of us could not. He tried to capture it. But he failed, and I saw him pay the price. Addendum 8302-3 The Proposal Although Morgan Harper's interview was successful, Head Researcher Simon Wells' subsequent attempts at obtaining information ended in failure. Witnesses claiming to have seen SCP-8302 did not appear as communicative as Harper, with some even refusing to comply. As such, further investigation into the matter depended entirely on Harper himself, given that the means to contact SCP-8302 remained unknown. Taking note of a previous offer made by Harper to join his crew, Wells initiated and forwarded a project proposal to continue studies on SCP-8302. The following is a finalized copy of Wells' proposal to the area's Site Director. Department of Interdimensional Stability Department of Interdimensional Stability Overview: The Department of Interdimensional Stability is a newly established department which handles a specific subset of dimensional anomalies. This subset is typically interdimensional2 in nature and is not to be mistaken for extradimensionality. Because of the still-developing research into the qualities and effects of interdimensionality, there are currently no major breakthroughs to date; however, recent studies toward Project MUNDUS show that the influence of alternate timelines may further interplanar research. In the case of SCP-8302, the Department of Interdimensional Stability is working in conjunction with the Department of Oneiric Studies in order to maintain interdimensional stability. This is to ensure that the noospheric subspace does not collapse. PROJECT PROPOSAL "MELVILLE" Approved November 1st, 2013 Simon Wells Department of Oneiric Studies Proposal Statement: The observation of SCP-8302 for continued studies into the noosphere. Project Lead: Head Researcher Simon Wells Proposal Details: Although current information on SCP-8302 is limited and scarce in nature, it has come to my attention that the anomalous properties it possesses may extend beyond the influences of symptomatic depression. Through the compiled data attached to this document, it is possible to infer a connection between the four distinct, but related evidences:3 Minor tidal floodings Inexplicable lack of consciousness Sonar readings SCP-8302's sonic signature It is evident that the tidal floodings and increasing occurrences of sudden fainting are a result of SCP-8302's sonic signature and influence. Given that older individuals within Yakutat Bay express confirmation of SCP-8302's existence as far back as 1989, it is reasonable to assume that the anomalous occurrences come as a result of continued civilian attempts to contact SCP-8302. Given this information, I, Head Researcher Simon Wells, propose that the current information of SCP-8302 may be intrinsically linked to the noosphere and that pursuing this research will benefit both the Department of Oneiric Studies and the Department of Interdimensional Stability. Planning: Due to the nature of this research, Project MELVILLE's development will be overseen by two individuals: Head Researcher Simon Wells, and Head Researcher Orwell Chief. The Department of Oneiric Studies will be directly responsible for the live operation of Project MELVILLE, as well as the direct study into SCP-8302. On the other hand, the Department of Interdimensional Stability will be responsible for maintaining noospheric control. The idea will be to use Morgan Harper's first-person accounts in order to create a viable vessel for noospheric travel. Given that SCP-8302 likely resides within its own noospheric space, it is necessary to develop and refine current oneiric technology to ensure that the project is a success. Lastly, the project cannot be conducted by more than a select amount of individuals, in order to maintain noospheric stability. As such, the personnel required to make contact with SCP-8302 can only be Head Researcher Simon Wells, and designated MTF operatives, under the guise of supporting Harper's crew. We hope to see that this project comes to fruition. Secure. Contain. Protect. Addendum 8302-4 The Captain Shortly after Project MELVILLE's approval, Head Researcher Simon Wells was dispatched back to Yakutat Bay for the sole purpose of entering an agreement with Morgan Harper and the rest of his crew. Although Harper was easily accepting of Wells' recruitment, his captain, Davey Leif would not acknowledge him and the previously discussed deal unless convinced otherwise. The following is an audio transcription between Simon Wells' proposal and Davey Leif. It should be noted that both Davey Leif and Morgan Harper were not considered to be replaced or amnesticized because of their involvement toward the MELVILLE project. AUDIO LOG Involved Individuals: Simon Wells Davey Leif Location: Yakutat Bay, Leif Household Foreword: Although Davey Leif has remained absent from the fishing scene since January 15th, he is still considered one of the town's most knowledgeable experts. Despite this, however, he claims to have quit the fishing community. Captain Davey Leif prior to witnessing SCP-8302. [Three knocks ring from the Leif household. Wells waits for a few moments before knocking again. This process repeats four times until footsteps can be heard from the home. Eventually, the door opens and a gruff voice is heard.] Davey: Do I know you? Simon: Ah, sorry for bothering you. My name is Simon Wells. You don't know me personally, but I'm acquainted with Morgan. Could I borrow a bit of your time? [Davey groans slightly.] Davey: What for? I don't have all day. Simon: I understand. I'll get straight to the point. Morgan and I are preparing to set sail for the dreaming whale. [Silence.] Davey: Then I refuse. Go bug someone else. [The door creaks just as it's about to close, only to stop abruptly when Simon slips his foot in the narrowing gap.] Davey: Quite rude for somebody I've just met. Simon: I apologize. Just— May I ask why you're not interested? Davey: [Sighing.] I refused you already. Isn't that enough? Simon: I'm sorry. It's just that I heard from Morgan that you'd seen the dreaming whale before during one of your trips together, and I thought hearing it from the person himself would help in our preparations. Davey: If you heard from Morgan already, then I don't need to be here. You can just ask him for your questions. Simon: Morgan is… preoccupied with his research. [Pauses.] I can't get through to him whenever he gets like this. [Silence, before Davey sighs. The door creaks open again as Simon falls forward slightly.] Davey: I see. It can't be helped, then. Come in and make it quick. I'd like to catch up with the news as soon as possible. Simon: I understand. [Davey presumably steps aside as Simon enters the home. The door behind him closes as Davey speeds up his pace to catch up with Simon. The two sit down at a dining table. Television can be heard faintly in the background, and the sound of a ferry's horn can be heard in the distance.] Simon: So, I understand that you've refused the offer. Is there any particular reason why? [Davey sighs.] Davey: A goal like that isn't worth sailing for. Simon: What do you mean? Davey: I mean that you don't understand what you're getting yourself into. There's a lot more bad than good when it comes to that thing. Learned that the hard way. Simon: I'm… afraid I don't see what you're getting at. I'm sure with your experience we'd be able to deal with any problems. [Davey groans.] Davey: See, this is the issue with you lot. You don't understand 'till you see it for yourself. [Pauses.] Though, I was like that too. [Silence.] Simon: May I ask what exactly happened on your last trip? [Silence again.] Simon: Sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to answer. [Davey sighs.] Davey: It's fine. It's not like I'll be seeing you again, anyway. [Pauses.] You've heard most of it from Morgan, haven't you? Simon: Only until your crew met the whale. Davey: Hm. Then you must've known about Roan. The old crew's engineer. Simon: I only know that he'd been swallowed by the whale that day. Nothing more, nothing less. Davey: Well, it's exactly as you said. I remember it took us a minute to process, getting eaten whole like that. [Pauses.] When we came to, we tried to fish him out, but at that point, nothing could be done. Simon: That… sounds horrible. I'm sorry. Davey: The worst part was we could still see him. We saw while he was swept further and further away from us, sleeping in the water. I could bet you that somewhere out there, he's still sleeping in the sea. And the rest of us knew that, unable to do a single thing. The guilt's probably still haunting them to this day. Simon: And it haunts you too? Davey: Of course it does. What person wouldn't feel guilty that they were the reason their friend could be dead? Simon: You're right. That was insensitive of me. Davey: Hm. It's fine. Is that all? [Silence for a few moments.] Davey: If that's it, then— Simon: Forgive me for saying this, but I really do think that you should reconsider. Your experience is really valuable, so having you on board would help greatly. Davey: Again with this? I already told you that I refused. I let you in here and if you can't at least respect my decision then you'll quickly find yourself out of this home. Simon: It's not just "this", Mr. Leif. I might sound arrogant saying this, but I have one hundred percent confidence that we can find Roan for you. Davey: It's not about arrogance, it's about respect. And if you can't respect my decision that I can't respect your confidence. Are we clear on that? Simon: The one thing I'm clear about is that Roan is alive, still sleeping out there. And if that's not enough, then I'm also confident we can find that dreaming whale with him. [Davey stands up, pushing his chair as it screeches on the ground. The table shakes, and nearby utensils clatter, as Simon also pushes himself away from the tablet slightly.] Davey: You are incredibly rude for a guest. Get out. Simon: Mr. Leif, I need you to understand that having Morgan on board isn't enough. If we go out there alone, it could very well end up in failure, and I don't want that to happen. So please, your being there would be incredibly helpful. [Davey stammers slightly.] Davey: You— Having Morgan on board isn't enough for me. We've already been through enough, and I don't want to deal with that again! Simon: If it isn't enough for even someone like you, then I'm sure you can imagine what it'd be like for Morgan. He's reliving his experience because of my request, and I need you to be there to support him. Davey: I am not taking those chances. Get out. Now! Simon: Mr. Leif, please. You are the last person he needs. Morgan doubts himself, and without you, he's afraid that it'll just end up in failure. Are you sure you want to stand by doing nothing again? Davey: I— Simon: Please, Mr. Leif. One last trip, one last time. Morgan needs you. He said that himself. Davey: Morgan? He asked for me? Simon: Yes, Morgan himself asked for you to accompany him. In fact, that's why I'm here. [Pauses.] I'm sorry, I lied. I didn't come to persuade you on my own. Morgan asked me on his behalf. Davey: But, why didn't he ask me himself? Simon: …because he's ashamed of himself. [Silence. Eventually, Davey sits back down and the chair screeches as it rubs against the floor.] Davey: I will join on one condition. Simon: Anything. Davey: You let me man the boat. Addendum 8302-5 The Departure Following Head Researcher Simon Wells' conversation with Davey Leif, preparations for Project MELVILLE were underway. As a result of the joint cooperation between the Department of Oneiric Studies and the Department of Interdimensional Stability, development was split into two categories. New approximate location of SCP-8302 as of departure. Personnel under the Department of Oneiric Studies were responsible for the dissemination of the Melville Crew's4 expedition into the Alaskan Gulf, as well as an additional survey on the Yakutat Bay locals, understanding of SCP-8302. By spreading the word about the crew's departure, it was believed that the likelihood of success would increase exponentially.5 Furthermore, training for both Harper and Leif would be handled by MTF υ-2 ("Searfarers"), detailing instruction on handling the ship's new equipment. On the other hand, personnel under the Department of Interdimensional Stability were responsible for equipping the Melville Crew with equipment suited for interplanar travel. This included but was not limited to items such as a Scranton Reality Anchor (SRAs) or an OBES.6 Additionally, surveys conducted on the Yakutat fishing community on the effects of SCP-8302, as well as final observations on the effects of SCP-8302, assisted in narrowing down its current migration range by 70%. Tracing technology used by the sonar images pinpointed SCP-8302's approximate toward the lower half of the Alaskan Gulf. Furthermore, further observations of SCP-8302's sonic signature revealed an active time call time between 20:00 PM and 24:00 PM, relative to Pacific Daytime. Both the development and preparations of Melville Crew and its ship would finish on November 9th, 2023 and official departure would occur on the following day. For ease of access, the newly developed ship, named "Hermann" would be a larger and more versatile version of Morgan Harper's original ship. The ship contained three different vessels and multiple harpoon cannons fitted with multiple anomalously modified harpoon cannons, which were developed for the best chances of success. Addendum 8302-6 The Contact The Melville Crew's "Hermann" departed from Yakutat Bay on November 10th, 2023, following the end of Project MELVILLE's preparation phase. The crew would officially consist of Head Researcher Simon Wells, Captain Davey Leif, and Vice-Captain Morgan Harper, as well as MTF υ-2 ("Seafarers") operatives acting as Yakutat Bay sailors. Note that because the majority of the expedition was recorded via Foundation-made noospheric cameras, information unrelated to the capture and events of the Melville Crew at sea have been omitted for brevity. The following is a video transcription of the initial events which unfolded following the breach of SCP-8302's approximate location. VIDEO LOG Involved Individuals: Simon Wells Davey Leif Morgan Harper MTF υ-2 ("Seafarers") Melville Crewmembers Location: Alaskan Gulf Foreword: For ease of use, the Melville Crew's expedition has been compiled into a single video log transcription. There has been no distinction between "Hermann's" multitude of cameras, including Simon Wells' personal bodycam. Melville Crew's "Hermann" prior to departure. [The time is currently 22:23 PM PST. Simon is next to Morgan as he leans over the ship's gunwale. In the background, several members of both Upsilon-2 operatives and Yakutat sailors can be seen conversing. A small amount of water splashes over the boat, and the waves appear to be slightly rough. Morgan looks up at the cloudy sky, before watching past the ocean's horizon.] Morgan: Cloudy skies. It was like this back then too. Simon: Are you talking about your last trip a few months back? How'd you remember that? Morgan: Mmm, good question. I just do, you know? Wouldn't you? [Simon frowns. He turns to face Morgan.] Simon: …no, I wouldn't. Ten months is a long time, Morgan. No way in hell I'd remember anything that far back. You got photographic memory or something? Morgan: Don't think so. Can't even remember what I did yesterday, so you've gotta be off the mark. Maybe it's cause that trip was just the height of my life. That's why I remember. [Simon raises his eyebrow.] Simon: You sure that's it? Morgan, as a prolific researcher there are a lotta things that I consider the height of my life, but even I can't remember all of them. It's weird. [Morgan freezes for a moment before responding.] Morgan: Well, I guess I'm just special. Anyway, enough about me. I wanted to ask: how'd you manage to bring 'Cap aboard? Since our last trip together, nobody's been able to bring him back to sea. I was sure he'd given up on it. [Simon's expression cloudens slightly.] Simon: I… lied to him about it. [Morgan turns to face Simon.] Morgan: You what? Simon: I lied. There was no way to get him aboard unless I told him you asked for him specifically. Was that a bad idea? [Morgan hesitates slightly. He stammers for a few moments before recollecting himself.] Morgan: No. I should thank you for that, actually. Ever since our last trip, Cap and I haven't had the chance to seriously talk. We went our separate ways too fast, and I've been too busy with my work. Simon: What stopped you from approaching him though? Couldn't you have just turned up at his house one day? You've been crewmates for as long as I can remember. [Morgan chuckles slightly. He turns around to lean backwards on the gunwale, watching the rest of the Melville Crew play cards amongst themselves.] Morgan: Well, the longest you can remember was only half a month ago. There's a lotta truth to that, though. I could've just dropped by someday and tried to clear things up. [Pauses.] But I just couldn't, you know? I couldn't bring myself to step on his doorstep, even if I tried. And I don't know why either. The whole thing's been a mess. Simon: Is that because of the dreaming whale? Morgan: Is it? Simon: Well, you told me you've been holed up in research for the last few months. That must've been it, no? I mean, if there's any reason for you to put off meeting Davey, your own Captain at that, then there's nothing else that makes sense other than that. Morgan: See, that's the thing. That's what I think, that's what Cap thinks, but a part of me also thinks that there's something else to it. Sure, it might've been because I've been stuck with research, but maybe it's also because of Roan, or because I knew I had to see it for myself, again. Simon: Huh, sounds like a rough time. I can't say I understand you, but if that's what you think then maybe that's what it is. Morgan: Maybe less rough, and more confused, you know? There's just something about it that kinda felt… off, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I just know that there's something more to it, and my way of getting to the bottom of it is finishing what I started. [Silence, broken by the occasional cheers from the nearby crewmembers. The waves crashing on the boat appear to grow slightly more intense, and the sky is now completely dark.] Morgan: Simon, I know it's weird to ask this after all I've said, but do you really think it's possible to see the dreaming whale again? Simon: I really do think so. I know I've only just got here, and that I don't have as much experience as you do, but I'm a researcher by heart, and if there's one thing I'm sure of, then it'd be the quality of my work. Morgan: If you say so. [At this point, droplets of water begin falling on the ship, which grows increasingly intense by the second. Some of the crewmembers quickly pack up their cards, rushing to the interior of the ship seeking shelter, while the others begin patrol over the gunwale. Some of the crewmembers complain amongst themselves. Morgan looks up at the sky.] Morgan: Maybe a lot of it is still the same. It rained like this back then too. It's weird though, why have we been sleeping like normal? Simon: Are you talking about the dreams you had? Morgan: Yeah. By now, the lot of us would be seriously depressed, but here we are, talking and enjoying ourselves while we dreamt of normal dreams. Some of the crew members are even having a lovely nap. Why is that? Simon: It's probably— [A wave interrupts Simon, crashing against the ship as it splashes water over the gunwale. From nearby, Davey approaches the two of them. Morgan turns to face Davey, while Simon averts his eyes slightly, looking toward the sea.] Morgan: Cap, I thought you were manning the ship. Davey: I'm on my break. One of Simon's guys took it over for me. Morgan: I see. Davey: Morgan, we need to talk. Morgan: Is it about the whale? Davey: No. I've moved on from that. It's about this trip. Why did you bring me back? Morgan: I didn't— [Morgan stops himself. He glances at Simon then looks back at Davey.] Morgan: I wanted to apologize. Davey: For what? You could've apologized at my home. Morgan: Still as pragmatic as ever. Isn't it more fun this way? It suits us more, don't you think? Davey: I'm not a sailor anymore, Morgan. Morgan: Back there, you're not. But here, you are. You're a sailor at heart, Davey. I know that better than anyone else. Davey: I know me better than anyone else. Back to the point: what are you apologizing for? [Morgan stammers slightly.] Morgan: For everything. [Davey frowns, crossing his arms.] Davey: What is everything, Morgan? I still don't know what you're talking about. Morgan: I'm talking about everything that happened until now, isn't that obvious? I avoided you and holed myself up ever since we met the whale. I'm apologizing for that. Davey: Is that all? Just holing yourself up in your ship because of that damn whale? What about everything else? About Roan and the rest of the crew, and how you stopped everyone from trying to bring Roan back on the deck. Have you even considered the rest of the crew about this? Morgan: Of course I did, Cap! But everytime I try to explain to them they call me insane— Davey: I came here because you said you needed me, not to hear your pointless flattery about your grand mistake. And speaking of which, I haven't seen any of the old crewmembers on here anyway. Who woulda thought you'd get yourself a new crew right after disbanding the old one, eh? Morgan: You're wrong! That's not what I meant! The old crew just wouldn't—! Davey: I don't care about that anymore, Morgan. If that's all you wanted to say, then just forget it. I came here on my own whim, not because I believed in meeting that damn whale again. From the looks of it, you don't even know what you're doing. [Davey turns around, walking away. The rain falls harder and harder as the waves grow bigger in size, crashing against the boat. By now, the deck begins swaying, and any loose material left on the floor starts moving with the boat. Thunder can be heard crashing down. Morgan yells at Davey as he walks away.] Morgan: What do you know, Cap?! You holed yourself in your home like I did after we met the whale! Haven't you considered that?! [Davey stops moving and faces Morgan again, yelling back.] Davey: We're different, you and I! You need to face the truth, Morgan! Roan is gone! Dead! And finding that damn whale isn't gonna do anything about it! Morgan: You're wrong, Cap! Finding the whale will do something about it! If the whale's still out there, then Roan is too! If the whale's still out there, then Roan is too! If he wasn't, then we wouldn't even be dreaming in the first place! Davey: You damn—! What do you know for sitting on your ass all day! If Roan really was alive then he'd be right here beside us! Morgan: But he's not, and that's why we need to find the whale! Face it, Cap, we still have a chance! All we need to do is find it and bring him back! Why don't you understand me?! Davey: I've never gotten that chance, Morgan! Ever since Roan left you've only been talking about the whale! I act this way because you need it! You need someone to set you straight so nothing worse continues to happen! That's why—! [Suddenly, a large wave crashes on the boat, causing it to sway heavily as the crew holds on for leverage. Simon and Morgan hold on to the gunwale, and Davey holds on to a nearby pillar. SCP-8302's sonic signature can be heard echoing in the background and the storm grows increasingly intense.] Simon: Sorry to burst your bubble, but it looks like we've found it! [At this point, the cameras begin malfunctioning, and the sky abruptly changes in colour. The ship is covered with the glow of the cosmic sky, and the waters reflect the ocean of stars. The rain, which remains intense, appears to fall from another sea far above the ship. The ship attempts to circumvent the heavy storm through sudden changes in direction but continues to sway heavily. Eventually, the ship is lifted an insurmountable amount by a sudden wave and another sonic signature can be heard in the background. As it passes the wave, the ship begins falling from the sky toward the water.] Simon: Holy fuck! Davey: Brace for impact! [The cameras malfunction as the ship falls to the sea. However, the sound of impact can be heard as the noises of water splash against the deck. Connection to the feed is abruptly cut.] [CONTACT LOST] Addendum 8302-7 The Acceptance Although contact was lost temporarily during the first contact with SCP-8302, connection with the crew was quickly re-established through the use of the OBES. Following the storm, Melville Crew's efforts were quickly directed toward the repairs of the ship and the relocation of SCP-8302, as well as the development of research into the noosphere. The Noosphere (Cosmic Sea) The Cosmic Sea. Each light represents a sphere of human thought. The noosphere, known informally by some as the "Cosmic Sea", is the interdimensional manifestation of human thought. It is built upon the sum total of every thought that a human brain could possess, and manifested as the collection of conscious or subconscious thoughts that any individual could ever conceive. The noosphere is most typically represented as an environment akin to the cosmic sky (hence the name "Cosmic Sea"), but its minor details can be subject to personal interpretation. Currently, it is believed that there is an innumerable amount of anomalistic creatures residing within the noosphere, however, there are only a few confirmed existences known by the Foundation. Given the current information about SCP-8302, it is highly probable that SCP-8302 itself is a manifestation of Yakutat Bay's subconscious thoughts on sailing. During this time, Head Researcher Simon Wells engaged in a personal conversation with Captain Davey Leif, the contents of which reflected on the most recent disagreement with the latter and Morgan Harper. Because the ship's cameras were damaged upon entry into the noosphere, the conversation was recorded on Wells' bodycam. VIDEO LOG Involved Individuals: Simon Wells Davey Leif Location: The Cosmic Sea Foreword: This footage was taken a few hours after the events of Addendum 8302-6. The captain's room prior to departure. [Davey is sitting on his chair in silence, watching the wheel while the ship stays suspended. The glow from the cosmic sea shines through the glass window, illuminating the interior of the room. Simon closes the room's door shut before he stands next to Davey, leaning against a nearby counter. Davey sighs.] Davey: Do you need anything? Simon: Not really. I just thought you might've needed somebody to talk to. Davey: Everything's fine now. You don't need to worry about me. Go check up on Morgan instead. I'll man the ship. Simon: Morgan's all holed up in his room. It's gonna be impossible to talk to him in that state. Davey: And you thought of talking to me instead? Simon: That's right. Was that bad? Davey: Some meddlesome fellow you are. [Davey turns his chair to face Simon. He grunts.] Simon: Davey, what are you so afraid of? [Davey pauses for a few seconds before responding.] Davey: I'm not afraid. Simon: Okay, maybe you're not afraid, but anxious instead. What about the whale makes you nervous? Is it about Roan, or is it the whale itself? Davey: [Sighing.] It's… both. Simon: Both? What do you mean? Davey: Both the whale and Roan… and me too, Simon. [Pauses.] I'm scared, scared to face the whale again. Simon: Davey, I think that's a completely normal fear to have. I can't speak for you, since I've only gotten to know you recently, but you're not the only one who feels that way. [Davey groans, resting his forehead on his hand.] Davey: Yeah, but… when I think about meeting it for the second time… I just lose it. I don't become reliable anymore. I know I've said that there's no way Roan would still be alive, but that's just me convincing myself to face the truth. Simon: Davey— Davey: Back then, I didn't do my job properly. I fought with Roan, pushed him away, and I suffered the consequences. We were longtime crewmates, but back then all that I could think about wasn't Roan, it was the whale. I didn't give a rat's ass about what would happen to him then, and because of that… he was taken away. [Silence.] Davey: And that's the truth. That's what scares me. The fact that I know this, all of it, and I push it away so that I can see another day is what haunts me. Simon, I'm scared. What if he's really alive and out there, and we manage to bring him back? What will he say to me then? Can I still be a captain, then? Do I really deserve to be his captain? [Simon nods, waiting a few moments before responding.] Simon: You said it yourself a few hours ago, Davey. You're the captain because the crew needs it. You stepped up to fill that role when nobody couldn't, and that's already the quality that a captain deserves. Even to this day, Morgan still recognizes you as the captain, isn't that enough? Davey: That's not enough, Simon. That was just me trying to fit a role that nobody could play, and in the end it bit me in the back, all because of one mistake. Simon: Everybody makes mistakes, Davey. It's in their nature. There is no perfect person in the world, nor is there a perfect voyage. Everything always has its differences, doesn't it? And the fact that you're able to overcome those already makes you the best fit for a captain. [Davey remains silent.] Simon: Morgan may have said you failed your job, directly or indirectly, but isn't that fine? A captain's job is to overcome mistakes; if there weren't any mistakes, then what job would a captain have? Davey: I see. Simon: You're old, Davey, and a lot of time has passed since your last trip, but don't let that haunt you for the rest of your life. You've got so much more time to fix your mistakes, and that's the beauty of it. [Silence.] Simon: So get out there and do your thing! Without a captain, this ship wouldn't even be moving. Hell, we might not have been out here in the first place. If you want to take up that mantle for the second time, now's your chance. Set the record straight and bring back Roan for the old crew. How's that sound, Cap? [Davey stays silent for a few moments, before standing up from his chair. He looks out to the cosmic sea before extending his hand toward Simon.] Davey: Simon, you know, you make a great therapist. Simon: [Chuckling.] I guess so. [After shaking Simon's hand, Davey approaches a nearby terminal and activates the ship-wide intercom. A small jingle is heard from the speakers before Davey's voice echoes throughout the ship.] Davey: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. From now on, all efforts will be spent toward the repairs of the ship's hull, and once ready, we will be immediately setting sail for the dreaming whale. Be ready at a moment's notice, because I will not be warning you when the ship starts moving. Thank you. [The intercom switches off.] Addendum 8302-8 The Reflection Due to the immeasurable expanse of the noosphere, attempts at locating SCP-8302 could not be done normally. As such, the Melville Crew relied on the prototypical issues of the MLI.7 Additionally, assistance would also be provided externally via the Department of Interdimensional Stability's involvement in monitoring the crew's OBE state. Shortly after Head Researcher Simon Wells' conversation with Davey Leif, Wells was instructed to oversee the reparations on Hermann's hull. During this time, Wells would end up engaging in a conversation with Morgan Harper. The following is a transcription of this event. VIDEO LOG Involved Individuals: Simon Wells Morgan Harper Location: The Cosmic Sea Foreword: N/A. [Simon is leaning over a railing within the ship's interior, watching the progress of the repairs. Metal clanging against each other echoes through the room, accompanied by the conversations of other crewmembers. Approaching Simon from behind is Morgan, who is holding documents and several notes in his hands. He calls out to Simon.] Morgan: Simon, sorry I've been out. I heard you came by my room. Simon: Yeah, I needed to ask you some questions. [Simon scans over Morgan, before glancing at the documents in his hand.] Simon: I thought I'd hear you out after your argument with Davey, but… it looks like you're just fine. Morgan: Yeah, don't worry about me. I'm already past that since we've got bigger issues at hand. Listen, I was doing some research since then and— Simon: Morgan, answer me honestly. Why are you going so far to see the whale? I just want to know what's going through your head. Morgan: What do you mean? Simon: I'm being serious here. I mean, for the last few months all you've been doing is research, something that's completely out of your field of expertise, and even now, you're still trying to research the whale. Isn't it a bit insane? [Morgan stares at Simon.] Morgan: I don't get it, Simon. Why wouldn't you try to find the whale again? Simon: What? What do you mean by that? Morgan: I mean, isn't it normal? Everyone else in town feels the same way, those who've seen the whale at least. They can understand what I'm trying to do and why I do it. Simon: No, it's not normal. I don't even know what you're trying to get at, Morgan. You haven't answered my question at all. Why are you trying so hard? Morgan: Simon, I— I don't know how else to explain it to you. It's just normal for me to try and find the whale. It's like a sailor's calling… like you and your research. I just do it. It's natural for me now. It's been natural for me since I met the whale. Simon: Is that why you're going so far? Not for Roan, or for Davey, but for yourself? All because you met a whale one day? Morgan: I— I guess so. I mean, maybe it's what drives me to go back to sea, or it's what drives me to go voyaging with Cap, but I know for sure that's what it is. [Simon frowns.] Simon: Morgan, just— It's not normal. At least, to me, it isn't. Maybe it's because I haven't seen the whale you're talking about yet, but I just can't get behind what you're saying. [Morgan scratches his head.] Morgan: I don't know how else to explain it to you, Simon. I keep telling you, that's not what it is. It's just something that's part of my daily life, to find the whale again. You and Cap might've called me obsessed, but you can't deny that without me, you'd never find the whale. Simon: Morgan, it's not about finding the whale. It's about you. You need to realize this—the whale ruined your life. It's all you ever think about. Morgan: No— No, that's where you're wrong, Simon. Didn't you feel it? That thrill and excitement you got from seeing the whale? Because that's what gets us sailors going—it's why we're on the sea! Simon: No, I don't get it. I didn't watch you and Davey argue just to get an unclear answer. That's not how I do things. [Simon pushes himself off the railing.] Simon: I don't know how else to say it, Morgan, but from what I can see, the whale's all you ever think about. [Morgan frowns.] Morgan: That can't be right. 'Cause everyone who's seen the whale feels the same way, even if they never showed it. My life isn't ruined. It's never been ruined. It's always been the same. Right? [Morgan forcibly pushes over the documents in his hand to Simon.] Morgan: Simon, you gotta believe me. All I've ever done is try to meet it again, and you're the one who let me do that. We're both out here for the whale, aren't we? Doesn't that make us the same? We're like two birds of a feather who've flocked together. Simon: Morgan, I haven't felt a single— Morgan: No, don't say anything anymore, Simon. I don't want to hear it. I can't hear it. [Morgan glances back, toward the nearest exit to the next floor.] Morgan: I've— I've gotta get going now, but it was nice talking to you. I've gotta go apologize to Cap, now that you mention it, and I need to get started on the ship's repairs. Look, I'll see you later, bud. [Simon frowns, watching as Morgan walks away. He leans back on the railing as he flips over the documents, which contained several personal notes taken by Morgan recently. The papers detail several scientific observations, all of which lead to one of Morgan's personal conclusions. Just as Morgan exits, Simon yells back.] Simon: Morgan, are you sure that's what you want?! [Morgan pauses for a second, then leaves.] Following Wells' conversation with Harper, Wells quickly compiled the list of documents given to him in one conclusive report. What follows is a document which summarizes the contents of both Wells and Harper's research. The Conditions of SCP-8302 Although can be assumed that the influence of SCP-8302 affects only sailors within Yakutat Bay, the conditions for an individual to witness it remain unclear. However, based on the current evidence at hand, it is possible to narrow the conditions to a specific set of rules. The individual must be currently within the Alaskan Gulf, with the intent of witnessing SCP-8302. The individual must be within SCP-8302's approximate location during the hours of 20:00 PM - 24:00 PM PST. The individual must be free of conscious influence. The individual must be capable of dreaming. Should all four conditions be met, the likelihood of witnessing SCP-8302 is approximately 80%. This results in the individual being transferred into the noosphere. However, based on the currently available information, there are no known methods of exiting the noosphere without any casualties, assuming that the individual witnesses SCP-8302. To date, the only individuals who have escaped the noosphere appear to have suffered a missing crewmate, most of which have been described to be "swallowed" by SCP-8302. Despite this, it can be reasonably assumed and concluded, that by neutralizing SCP-8302, all those affected by its influence will be transferred back to baseline reality. This, however, must be done should there be no other methods of escape. Addendum 8302-9 The Whale The Melville Crew's Hermann would finish repairs after approximately eight hours, at which point the expedition would resume. Using the prototypical issue of the MLI, Head Researcher Simon Wells would be responsible for locating SCP-8302's approximate location. This would result in the Melville Crew's second encounter with SCP-8302, the events of which have been recorded below. VIDEO LOG Involved Individuals: Simon Wells Davey Leif Morgan Harper MTF υ-2 ("Seafarers") Melville Crewmembers Location: The Cosmic Sea Foreword: N/A. [The time is currently unknown. In the near distance, a cosmic storm can be seen growing closer as the ship approaches it. Blurred sounds of rain and thunder are heard from the storm while the waves nearby vary in height, despite appearing to be equally intense; the cosmic sky, while blocked by what appears to be an imitation of the regular ocean, reflects off the cosmic waves, pushing the individual nodes of light into different directions. Some of these spherical lights merge together, while others bounce off each other, pushed by other cosmic waves.] [Currently, Simon is leaning over the ship's gunwale while watching the values of the MLI fluctuate in the direction of the cosmic storm. The MLI, similar in appearance to a handheld Geiger counter, picks up an intense concentration of memeplexes while the needle in its center rapidly vibrates between each side. Leaving the MLI strapped to his chest pocket, Simon watches as the storm grows closer. Morgan approaches Simon and leans on the gunwale, next to him.] Morgan: The storm's a beauty, isn't it? Simon: Yeah. Morgan: Still thinking about me? Simon: Kind of. I just can't understand what's going on in your head. [He pauses.] Though, you make it sound like we're star-crossed lovers. [Morgan laughs.] Morgan: Good one. It's funny isn't it, us and the whale? Simon: What's funny about it? Morgan: In a way, we're like star-crossed lovers to it. Meant to last, but never meant to be. [Simon remains silent momentarily.] Simon: Morgan, you know— [He pauses.] You might be right. Does that make us the same then? Morgan: You and the whale? Simon: Me and the whale. [Morgan groans. He adjusts his position to leaning on his elbows rather than his hands. Sheltering his face from the incoming rain, he responds.] Morgan: Nah, not really. Simon: Bummer. [Silence for a few moments.] Morgan: You know, Simon, I passed by one of the crewmembers a while ago. Simon: Yeah? Did anything happen? Morgan: Not to me. [He sighs.] It's happening all over again, but to this crew instead. [Simon shows a pensive expression. He glances at his MLI, the needle fluctuating at a faster pace than before.] Simon: I'm… not sure what you mean? Morgan: The whale. They were talking about the whale. Some of 'em, at least. I just— I don't know. When I see them like that, it just looks all too familiar. [Simon frowns slightly.] Simon: It's probably just some nonsense. I mean, we haven't even seen the whale yet. There's no way anything would happen. Besides, we haven't had any of the dreams you talked about yet, right? Morgan: I mean, yeah. But now it's different. I don't know— I just can't put my finger on it. [The intercom's familiar jingle echoes through the entire ship. Davey's voice is heard.] Davey: Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are now entering the cosmic storm. Brace yourself for rough waves. [Immediately after the ship fully enters the area of the cosmic storm, the MLI strapped on Simon's pocket begins beeping. Simon takes out the MLI, watching as the needle fluctuates between 400-500 Humes, but quickly straps it back in his pocket when rough waves begin crashing on the boat. The ship sways from left to right as its direction changes according to incoming waves. Blurred sounds of rain and thunder grow louder in volume as the water occasionally splashes on the deck scattering around nodes of light. The MLI does not stop beeping.] [Both Morgan and Simon hold on to the gunwale of the ship while the ship sways violently.] Morgan: Simon, does that thing ever shut up?! Simon: It's a prototype, so I'm afraid not! My colleagues haven't gotten a chance to field-test it yet! Morgan: I don't feel comfortable knowing this is the first time you're using that thing! Simon: Well, you're in luck because I don't either! [Morgan groans, before noticing the water continuing to build from the rain. Panicked, he starts directing his attention to the remaining crewmembers.] Morgan: Those of you on the deck, I need you to start clearing the water on the ship! We can't risk any extra weight! [Immediately, those who are free begin to clear the deck of rainwater. By now, the crew's vision is severely limited due to the thunder and the amount of rain. Thunder occasionally strikes the deck.] Simon: There's the Vice Captain doing his work! Morgan: I'm just a normal sailor, Simon! [In the distance SCP-8302's sonic signature can be heard, and despite vision being severely limited, light from the cosmic sky begins to pierce through the storm. The deck is slightly illuminated in a red glow as thunder continues to strike the deck. Rainwater continues building up as more crewmembers step out on deck to help assist in reducing the incoming weight.] [The ship continues to turn drastically to compensate for the intense waves, and Morgan carefully steps toward one of the ship's harpoon cannons. Simon follows Morgan, using his eyes as a shield against the heavy rainwater, and yells at him.] Simon: Morgan! What are you doing?! Morgan: I'm getting ready to meet the whale! [Morgan laughs.] Morgan: God, this is it, isn't it?! I finally get the chance to see it after ten months! Simon: You're being too hasty, Morgan! We haven't even seen it yet! [Morgan grips the trigger on the harpoon cannon, the size of which is large enough to cover his entire body. He squints his eyes slightly as he watches the rough waves. Seawater splashes against the tip of the cannon as it covers his entire body. Surprisingly, he isn't wet. He continues laughing.] Morgan: Hearing it is enough for me to know it's nearby! I've failed to capture this thing twice! I can't let this chance slip by! Simon: I understand how you feel, but being too hasty will may cost us major losses! I need you to be patient! [Simon grabs onto Morgan's shoulder with his right hand while the other is holding on to the harpoon cannon. Water splashes over the both of them as they watch through the harpoon cannon's built-in camera. Again, SCP-8302's sonic signature is heard, however this time it sounds louder and far more violent.] Morgan: That's something I lost a long time ago, Simon! [The ship sways violently to the left. Simon slips, losing his grip on Morgan as he falls toward the gunwale. Leveraging his body weight using his free hand, Simon pulls himself back up by pushing against the corner of the gunwale with his feet.] Picture of the eye of the storm. [By now, the red glow has covered the entire front deck of the ship while the storm continues striking down. Illuminated by the red glow, Simon adjusts to the new light, only to notice that the ship has begun entering the eye of the storm. Realizing this, Simon takes out the MLI strapped by his chest, watching as the counter flickers from 600-700 Humes, only to spike to 850 Humes. Panicking, Simon yells out to the crewmembers who are still cleaning the deck.] Simon: Brace for impact! [Suddenly, the ship is impacted with enough force to push it several meters to the right, large amounts of water splashing it over the deck. Many of the crewmembers hold on to nearby structures, while the less fortunate fall into the cosmic sea. As the ship violently turns to the left, the bow appears to lodge itself against the water, turning the rest of the body to compensate for the sudden stop. At impact, SCP-8302 lets out another sonic signature, before its head, which alone is larger than the ship itself, shoots past the boat.] [Witnessing this, Morgan laughs manically as he aims the harpoon cannon. Simon panics.] Simon: Morgan! I'm serious, you're just going to make things worse! Wait for the rest of the crew! Morgan: I'm sorry, Simon! If things turn for the worse, then let it be! I'm gonna kill this thing and get it over with! Simon: You'll what?! [Upon pushing the trigger, a massive harpoon bolt flies out of its chamber. The bolt looks as if it bends in reality, shooting toward SCP-8302 at unprecedented speeds. Immediately, the harpoon lodges itself right into it, which causes it to let out a deafening cry.] [Nearby water is pushed outward in a circular motion, originating from SCP-8302, and the currently pouring rainwater is violently shoved aside, splashing nearby Simon and nearby crewmembers. For a moment, the storm appears to calm itself, before the large, blue light at its center glows brightly in response to SCP-8302, and thunder begins violently striking down next to the deck.] [Groaning, Simon glances at Morgan as he loads another harpoon shot into the cannon, before turning to the rest of the crewmembers.] Simon: You guys! Divide the work evenly amongst yourselves between cleaning the rainwater and manning the harpoon cannons. The whale is here! [In response, half of the current crewmembers start manning the harpoon cannons. Just as this happens, the MLI counter strapped on Simon's chest beeps violently.] [Suddenly, the ship is impacted again, and some of the crewmembers manning the harpoon cannons slip, either catching onto a nearby structure or falling off the deck. Looking through the cannon's built-in camera, Morgan turns the cannon to find a vulnerable spot. However, SCP-8302 suddenly jumps out of the water, grazing the ship just enough for it to shake it violently.] Morgan: Stop moving around and stay still for once! Fuck—! [Nearby debris lands right onto Morgan's hip. Morgan groans, before shooting another bolt at SCP-8302, which lands directly into its eye. SCP-8302 lets out another deafening shriek as the remaining crewmembers shoot extra bolts at its body. Again, the storm appears to calm itself slightly, before it returns to normal in response to the blue light's pulse; it now appears visibly weaker.] [Preparing for one more shot, Morgan loads another bolt into the cannon. During this time, SCP-8302 retreats back into the water as it attempts to run away. Despite the damage dealt to the hull, the ship continues pursuing SCP-8302 intensely, keeping up with it in spite of its immense size. Additionally, the storm continues to move along with SCP-8302, illuminating the deck enough to maintain visibility.] Morgan: [Laughing violently.] God! This really is it! You know Simon, you were right! Simon: Right about what?! Morgan: About the entire thing! [Attempting to retreat, SCP-8302 lets out another sonic signature, the eye of the storm reflecting its cry. Water splashes over the deck once more, bouncing off Morgan's body. In the midst of pursuit, the ship suddenly sways to the right, turning drastically to compensate for a wave created by SCP-8302, causing Simon to lose grip at the unexpected wave.] Simon: Again—! [Grunting.] I don't see what you're getting at! [However, the MLI strapped to Simon's chest beeps violently once more, as SCP-8302's sonic signature pierces the crew's ears. Simon yells at the crewmembers.] Simon: Something's coming—! [There, a large wave crashes over the deck, completely blurring all vision across the ship. Simon grabs onto the ship's gunwale as he is pulled by the wave's current, kicking against the water and occasionally hitting debris or other crewmembers. As the water clears up, most of the crewmembers cannot be seen, either having been swept away by the current, or gone into hiding. The rest of the crewmembers appear to have taken shelter using the harpoon cannon, and quickly get back into their positions.] Simon: Shit! Morgan, are you alright?! Morgan: I'm fine—! You know, I thought about it after I left! Simon: Are you talking about a few hours ago?! Morgan: That's right! [Suddenly, the usual blue light cannot be seen illuminating the deck, and visibility once again remains poor. Simon panics, shielding his eyes against the raindrops as he looks around.] Simon: Fuck! What happened to the light?! [In the distance, Morgan can be heard laughing as he yells to Simon.] Morgan: It's being blocked by the whale! [In response, Simon looks toward the direction of Morgan's voice, only to notice that a large shadow overcasts the deck. Simon looks up, seeing SCP-8302 cover the eye of the storm as it jumps out of the water. Splashing back down, SCP-8302 generates several other waves which impair the crew's visibility. However, having flipped its body, SCP-8302 attempts to cover its remaining eye by retreating under the waves of the water.] Morgan: It makes sense now, Simon! It all makes sense! The whale fucked up my entire life! That's why I can't stop thinking about it! [Morgan laughs violently. Noticing this, Simon quickly runs toward a nearby harpoon, slipping on the deck once before he reaches the armed cannon. He looks into the harpoon's built-in camera, frantically moving the harpoon around before he notices the SCP-8302's tail exposed out of the water. Taking a deep breath, Simon aims the harpoon at SCP-8302's tail and takes a shot, piercing straight through it as it lets out another cry.] Simon: Morgan, I shot it already! Just let it go! [Instinctively, SCP-8302 jumps out of the water, and Morgan aims slightly ahead of the whale to compensate for the distance.] Morgan: Fucking whale! I'll finally be done with you! [Taking a deep breath, he aims at SCP-8302's remaining eye, before taking the shot, which pierces through the eye and out toward the other harpoon. As SCP-8302 cries out, the edge of the cosmic storm can be seen from the hole created by the harpoon shots, before being blurred by the water as it lands. Soon after, the MLI strapped on Simon's chest stops beeping, and the storm fades away.] [Both Morgan and Simon collapse on the ground, breathing heavily. Now, the waves are completely still, and SCP-8302's body slowly disintegrates into several spherical nodes of light, all of which flow back into the sea. Eventually, the entirety of SCP-8302's body fades away, revealing several unconscious individuals, now floating in the sea. Noticing this, Morgan lets out a sigh.] Morgan: It's done. I finally killed it for good. [Morgan looks at the now empty spot where SCP-8302 disappeared. He sits in silence for a few minutes, before frowning. Noticing this, Simon approaches Morgan, placing his hand on his shoulder.] Simon: Morgan, it's over. [Silence.] Simon: Morgan? [Silence.] Simon: Morgan, what's wrong? Weren't you waiting for this for the past year? Why're you all quiet now? [Stammering, Morgan faces Simon. His expression appears desolate although his breathing is completely normal. Morgan grips his hands, scratching the floor of the deck as he does so. He responds.] Morgan: Simon, I killed the whale. Simon: You did. Morgan: I did… I did, but— but why don't I feel anything? Addendum 8302-10 The Normal As a result of the Melville Crew's expedition into the noosphere, a total of 139 casualties were found of the 500 who took part. Of the 139 casualties, 52 individuals were presumed to have been missing within the noosphere, and the remaining suffered damage from repetitive blunt trauma. However, Head Researcher Simon Wells, confused at Morgan Harper's sudden confession, conducted one final interview, held within Site-251's headquarters. The following is a transcription of this event. VIDEO LOG Involved Individuals: Simon Wells Morgan Harper Location: Site-251 Foreword: N/A. Simon: Morgan, what did you mean back there on the ship? [Morgan and Simon both sit across from each other at a white table, the former appearing uninterested and the latter frowning. Beside each of them is a cup of coffee, which appears to have been recently brewed.] Morgan: What do you mean? Simon: You know what I mean. You can't just say "you don't feel anything". Morgan: But I didn't feel anything. I didn't get anything out of it, Simon. Simon: No, that can't be right—working nonstop for ten months as to kill a single whale, and the best you can do is say "I didn't get anything out of it"? Morgan: I'm not joking around. And I wasn't a normal sailor. I was obsessed. Simon: No, no, no. Morgan, what I'm saying is I think you were right back then. That's the normal response any sailor would've had. I mean, that's what you said yourself, right? [Morgan frowns.] Morgan: I was wrong. I killed the whale and I didn't get anything out of it. Now, I'm realizing just how stupid I was. [Morgan glances at a nearby clock in the room.] Simon: No, Morgan. I don't know how many times I have to say it, but— Morgan: Simon, I'm sorry, but can I go now? I'm sure you need to complete your research, but there are a lot of things I have to do. I need to apologize to everyone, to Roan, and I'm afraid the longer it takes the harder it will get. Simon: Morgan, don't be like this! You're not making any sense anymore. What about the whale? And my research? Can you just humour me these next few minutes? [Morgan stands up, pushing the chair away from the table.] Morgan: Sorry, Simon. I don't have that time right now. Maybe later? Simon: Morgan, please— Trust me when I say this, but there won't be a later! It'll only take a few— Morgan: Another time. We could talk about it on the boat. [Morgan walks toward the exit of the room. The door creaks as it opens.] Simon: Seriously, Morgan. My work isn't— Morgan: Sorry. [The door closes, and the room fills with silence as Simon is left sitting in the room, frustrated.] Addendum 8302-11 The Obsession Despite Project MELVILLE's expedition ending in SCP-8302's neutralization, its effects have uncovered further possibilities of oneiric and interplanar studies and have resolved the ongoing issues occurring within Yakutat Bay. Additionally, while individuals Morgan Harper and Davey Leif were given an offer to work within the Foundation after the expedition, both would ultimately refuse, expressing interest in returning to their normal life; they would both be amnesticized as a result. Other non-Foundation-related individuals were also amnesticized, which included locals those who have witnessed SCP-8302 prior to Project MELVILLE's expedition. Following these events, Head Researcher Simon Wells would proceed to pursue studies into the noosphere, using the experiences here as a foundation. Although no research has been finished as of writing, Wells would send a proposal document to the area's Site Director for review. The following is a finalized copy of this work. RESEARCH PROPOSAL Approved December 4th, 2013 Simon Wells Department of Oneiric Studies Proposal Statement: The creation of an independent research team dedicated to noosphere studies. Proposal Details: With the events of SCP-8302 having been concluded, it is possible to see how its oneiric properties go beyond just its previously affected area. As such, in order to understand the properties behind a noospheric anomaly, it is necessary to develop a team dedicated to the research of the noosphere, given its current lack of knowledge. Additionally, the creation of an independent research team will assist in preventing future occurrences such as those done to SCP-8302. Funding and official details can be discussed at a later date, however, it is my hope that this view will be understood. After all, those interested in such an independent research team will find that birds of a feather will flock together. Footnotes 1. Unconscious Comfortability Examination. 2. Relating to or handling with the subspatial dimensions of baseline reality (e.g., noospheric subspace, temporal subspace, etc.) 3. The data and images being referred to are the observations taken from Morgan Harper's study. 4. The temporary crew name given to those who would be boarding Morgan Harper's ship, or playing a key role in Project MELVILLE. 5. "As a general rule of thumb in the noospheric subspace: the scope of its influence is only as great as the scope of one's belief." (William, B. Brocksford. (2012) An Overview into the Interdimensional Subspaces. Foundation Press.) 6. Out-of-Body Experience Stabilizer. This allows a Foundation operative to oversee and maintain an individual's OBE state. 7. "The Memeplex Level Indicator, or MLI for short, is a Foundation-issued device which allows an individual to measure the memeplex levels of an area of interest, relative to its surroundings." (Peter, B. Vogel., et al. (2013) Foundation-issued Devices Anthology. Foundation Press.) |
SCP-8308 | safe | Have you ever gotten lost inside your own head? close Info X More by this author Image source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/stephen_douglas/94530118 Item #: SCP-8308 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8308 has been legally pronounced dead. Ownership of its works has been passed on to the Wilhelm estate. All known public recordings of SCP-8308's livestream have been deleted. SCP-8308 is contained within a standard humanoid containment cell. Should SCP-8308 become responsive at any point, Site Director Richard Donn is to be notified immediately. Description: SCP-8308 is Tony Wilhelm, author of ██ novels in the 'pulp fantasy' genre. It assertedly has the ability to perceive other realities, which highly resemble SCP-8308's novels. However, it is currently unknown how much of its work was inspired by its visions. The exact mechanisms and limits of SCP-8308's abilities are also unknown. SCP-8308 at the beginning of its livestream On 02/12/2024, SCP-8308 began a livestream on the social media platform ██████, which it began by announcing that it would be writing its next novel over the next week. It then began to narrate a chronological sequel to its previous work, The Mourner's Magiks, in extreme, monotonous detail, which did not fit its previous style of writing. Throughout this narration, it looked directly at its webcam, did not blink, and took no breaks whatsoever. On 05/12/2024, approximately 87 hours from the beginning of SCP-8308's livestream, Foundation webcrawler Memo-02 ("Marathon") alerted the local Site-309 to its unusual activity. After some deliberation, the livestream was shut down and an investigation proceeded. Addendum: Recovery SCP-8308 was found at its home in Poplar Grove, Illinois, where it was still narrating its novel to its webcam, seemingly unaware that its access to the ██████ streaming platform had been blocked. Despite not having moved for around 90 hours, it did not show any signs of having urinated or otherwise dirtied himself. SCP-8308, which continued its narration, did not react to any Foundation agents' attempts at communication as it was brought to a Site-309 Kant Hume Imager, where a Hume level of ~340 was observed localized within its brain. This level did not change until approximately 34 hours later, at which it dropped to a baseline, nonanomalous level as SCP-8308 stopped narrating. Notably, this final narration did not bring any narrative conclusion to the story of the sequel, instead stopping in the middle of a dialogue exchange. Dr. Noah Addams was then able to conduct an interview with SCP-8308, which became responsive. <Begin Log> Dr. Addams: Mr. Wilhelm? SCP-8308: Hmm? Ah, this is different. Quite different. And not quite what I'm looking for. But I suppose I can always expand my range. Dr. Addams: …Tony? I'd like to ask you— SCP-8308: Not sure if my publisher will like it, though. Dr. Addams: Mr. Wilhelm, please. I'd like to ask you some questions. SCP-8308: Ah, wait… SCP-8308 looks to its sides, then at Dr. Addams. SCP-8308: It seems like I'm here, then. You seem important. Dignified. Royalty, perhaps? What was it you said, your highness? Dr. Addams: Dr. Addams is fine. I wanted to know more about your livestream, specifically— SCP-8308: Oh, yes! My look into the wonderful world of Descotes. It's one of my favorites, even if not many exciting events happen. Dr. Addams: Why did you decide to livestream this… so-called look? SCP-8308: Creative processes are everything these days. I just wanted to share mine. Surely a woman of your stature should understand. You must show the little ones your own process, sometimes. To demonstrate. Dr. Addams: Demonstrate what? SCP-8308 points to himself. SCP-8308: The gap. Dr. Addams pauses for a moment. Dr. Addams: I see. And can you tell me your process? SCP-8308 raises an eyebrow. SCP-8308: I'd prefer not to. Dr. Addams: Wh— what do you mean? SCP-8308: I'd really rather not. <End Log> SCP-8308 became unresponsive for the rest of the interview. Upon being escorted to a containment cell, SCP-8308 sat in a chair and has since remained motionless, showing no need to blink, eat, drink, urinate, or defecate. Due to the hypothetical nature of SCP-8308's abilities, further investigations & interviews have been attempted. However, SCP-8308 has shown to be immune to amnestics, psychic suggestion (through both paratechnology and/or reality-bending), memetics, and other miscellaneous anomalous measures. On 14/03/2025, during a routine inspection within the Site-309 Kant Hume Imager, SCP-8308 became responsive for a moment, and the Hume levels localized within SCP-8308's brain rapidly elevated to around ~360. It closed its eyes, opened its mouth, then shook its head. SCP-8308 then spoke: I'd prefer not to anymore. Not here. SCP-8308 has been unresponsive since. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8308" by Ellie3, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8308. 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-8308-el.jpg Name: Webcams suck Author: Stephen Douglas License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr |
SCP-8316 | safe | “Do not meddle with what is not yours.” SITE-41 ARCHIVES Antimemetics Division NOTICE The following file was uncovered by Dr. Maverick Edevane on 03/05/2015 after the detection and decryption of an antimemetic code agent that had been inserted into the Foundation's database. Due to the specific targeting of SCP-8316, activity on this file is monitored. Discovery 8316.1 On 27/02/2001, an investigation carried out in the main hall of Site-76's Eastern wing after several personnel reported the smell of decay.1 Initial searches done by custodial staff could find no trace of a source, and a member of site security was alerted. Only after the utilization of perception filters was the body discovered. The corpse2 was highly damaged, having been heavily trampled by passing personnel. Significant damage to the head showed that the body lacked a human brain, and instead contained an unknown black substance — most of which was splattered across the floor alongside other strewn parts of the remains. It is theorized the body was in the hallway for over a week prior to discovery. Attempts to locate all personnel that have come into contact with it for proper cleaning is underway. Despite the presence of the unknown substance within the bodily systems of the remains, and the body's own antimemetic effect, it was otherwise consistent with that of a baseline human. The substance itself was harvested for further study. Item#: 8316 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: All recovered samples of SCP-8316-1 are contained within the cold storage of Site-41's Lab 2B. Upon request, samples can be utilized in pre-approved testing. SCP-8316 is to be kept within the site morgue until further notice. Pure samples of SCP-8316-1. Description: SCP-8316 is the designation given to the human remains discovered on 27/2/2001. The corpse, while mostly consistent with baseline humans, contained some dissimilarities that were noted during an autopsy. SCP-8316 is heavily antimemetic SCP-8316 had dark blood, noted to be thicker than baseline SCP-8316 had black bone marrow SCP-8316 had no eyes within its sockets, presumed to have rotted SCP-8316 lacked a brain Upon discovery, it was noted that its damaged skull and facial orifices contained SCP-8316-1. SCP-8316-1 is the 1.2 liters of substance that was recovered during cleanup. It is a thick, black, iridescent ooze of unknown nature and unknown origin. It is not yet clear if SCP-8316-1 was a part of SCP-8316, or was a poison within its systems that lead to its death. It should be noted that the removal of SCP-8316-1 from SCP-8316's skull did not alter the heavy antimemetic cloaking on the remains; it has thus been deduced that SCP-8316-1 is not antimemetic, nor the source of SCP-8316's own antimemetic nature. The properties of SCP-8316-1 are currently under analysis. Test: Composition Analysis Observations: The following elements have been identified in order of concentration: C (65%), H (8%), S (6%), Cu (5%), Fe (3%), Na (<1%), Br (<1%), K (<1%), Rb (<1%), Se (<1%). Among these, the remaining roughly 23% of SCP-8316-1's concentration includes a series of anomalous compounds. While majority are chiefly unknown, less then half have been identified to share similar structures and elements to that of various amnestics, and some antimemetic chemicals. Biological enzymes were found within SCP-8316-1. Implications SCP-8316-1 has the potential to be biologically alive. Test: Temperature Reaction Observations: SCP-8316-1 dried out entirely at 338 kelvin. Substance froze at roughly 254 kelvin, broken off pieces crumpled into powder. Implications Attempts to rehydrate and return both experimented samples to their previous states resulted in failure. The samples are considered unable to be retrieved, and will be disposed of. Test: Microscope Analysis Observations: Structures within SCP-8316-1 bared a strong resemblance to neurons, albeit with a far increased amount of thin synapses and darkened appearance. These cell-like structures appear to still be functional and communicating. Implications SCP-8316-1 may have held function within the biology of SCP-8316. It is now believed it is unlikely that SCP-8316-1 was the cause of SCP-8316's death. Research has come to the conclusion that SCP-8316-1 is biologically alive, and perhaps once held functionality analogues to that of a human brain when SCP-8316 was alive. See below for details on biological testing. Test: Re-assessment of SCP-8316's autopsy, secondary analysis Observations: SCP-8316-1 was found in mild concentrations within SCP-8316's blood — seemingly having binded to, or replaced, the body's white blood cells — however in higher count than baseline. No DNA could be recovered from the remains. Bone marrow was found to contain large concentrations, stained completely black. SCP-8316's heart, lungs, and liver were the organs with the highest traces of SCP-8316-1. The flesh of these organs was notably stained by SCP-8316-1's dark color. Implications It has been noted that SCP-8316-1 was found in heavy concentrations within the liver, leading to the assumption that SCP-8316's liver was attempting to (albeit unsuccessfully) attempting to filter it out. Due to this, it is theorized that SCP-8316-1 was introduced and integrated into SCP-8316 as opposed to being a natural part of the remains. Test: Exposure to animal brain tissue, exposure to lab-grown human brain tissue Observations: SCP-8316-1 sample did not react to animal brain tissue. Upon exposure to human brain tissue, SCP-8316-1 began to sizzle and hiss. The human brain tissue was then dissolved. Reassessment of SCP-8316-1's mass showed that it increased. Implications SCP-8316-1 is now theorized to have dissolved and replaced the brain of SCP-8316 at an unknown point in time. Due to the integration of the exposed tissue, it's also theorized that SCP-8316-1 may be capable of informational assimilation and transfer. It's now considered that this replacement of the brain and connection to the rest of the body facilitated the spreading of SCP-8316-1 throughout SCP-8316's bodily systems. How this occurred is currently unknown. Test: Exposure to human eye, exposure to human eye saturated in SCP-8316's blood Observations: Exposure of SCP-8316-1 to a human eye resulted in the substance coating the organ, and spread significantly more rapidly along the severed optic nerves. After approximately five minutes, SCP-8316-1 dissolved all tissues. The eye that was saturated by the blood of SCP-8316 underwent the same covering as the previous test, but was not dissolved. Implications It is now theorized that SCP-8316-1 entered SCP-8316 through the eyes, utilizing the optic nerves to reach the brain. How this occurred is currently unknown. Test: Exposure to adrenaline Observations: See Incident Report 8316.1 Implications Under review. Incident Report 8316.1: Foreword: The following footage was captured on 10/03/2001 during the scheduled adrenaline exposure test on SCP-8316-1. Test Supervisors: Dr. Holly Smith-Jones, Dr. Aster Owens, Dr. Samson Darrow Dr. Smith-Jones fills a syringe with liquid from a graduated cylinder. She flicks it twice to clear air bubbles from the bottom as Dr. Owens watches. Dr. Darrow is a few meters away, taking catalogue of three other set out samples of SCP-8316-1. His back is to the others. Dr. Darrow: Gonna try to see if you can get a response from it? Dr. Smith-Jones: That’s the plan. If it’s some sort of brain-analog, we should see increased activity. Dr. Darrow nods, still faced away. Dr. Owens moves to the microscope, putting his eye to it and adjusting the dials. Dr. Owens: Alright, should be good and set up for injection. Dr. Smith-Jones: Will do. Administering in 3, 2, 1– Dr. Smith-Jones inserts the syringe into the SCP-8316-1 sample, then pushes the plunger. SCP-8316-1 begins to shimmer. Dr. Owens: Jesus Christ how much did you inject— White light begins to pulse across SCP-8316-1 in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Dr. Smith-Jones: [Whispering] It glows… Both individuals fall quiet — staring at SCP-8316-1 as it continues its activity. Dr. Owens pulls away from the microscope to watch it directly. After an extended moment of silence, Dr. Darrow turns around. Dr. Darrow: So did it d— The camera within the room is briefly overtaken by static, though audio remains — a loud splattering sound, a series of crashes. When the visual disturbances leave, it appears that SCP-8316-1 has burst. The substance is splattered across the table and microscope. Dr. Smith-Jones is collapsed on the ground, unmoving. Dr. Owens is partially strewn across the table — his eyes have been turned to a dark sludge, which now leaks onto the table and joints the other splatterings of SCP-8316-1. Dr. Darrow screams, clutches his face, and stumbles back. He hits the counter and crumbles down. After a few moments, the doorknob turns. Drs. Kari Laine and Lenard Aamar stumble into the room. Dr. Laine: The hell is happening in here with all tha— Oh my god. Dr. Aamar visibly falters, their eyes widening. Dr. Laine rushes to Dr. Darrow. Dr. Laine: SAM! Sam, you breathing? Dr. Darrow wheezes, his head loosely turns to Dr. Laine. His left eye is melting into SCP-8316-1. Dr. Darrow: …it's a mask… Dr. Laine: Oh my god it's in his eye — Aamar, where's the emergency phone in here? Dr. Aamar is staring at the motionless bodies of Drs. Smith-Jones and Owens. Dr. Aamar: They're dead— Dr. Laine: LENARD! Focus! Samson might end up like that too if we don't fucking ACT! Dr. Aamar makes a distressed sound, and rushes over to the side of the room. They pull the emergency phone from its hook and pushes the red button on the console. Dr. Aamar: We need a medic in Lab 2B ASAP — there's been an accident with 8316— Dr. Laine grasps Dr. Darrow's hand and keeps an eye on his face. Dr. Laine: Stay with me, Samson — helps on the way. Dr. Darrow: It's a succession… There is a pause. Dr. Laine: What? Dr. Darrow: Faces — there are faces. Dr. Aamar lowers the emergency phone to stare at the two. Dr. Aamar: Laine, what is he—? Dr. Laine: I don't know— I think it's fucking with him. Dr. Darrow's breathing has quickened, his voice cracks. Dr. Darrow: It's in me. I can feel it — it's worming past my eyes. Dr. Laine: Samson, please stay with me. What is happening? Dr. Darrow: I'm trying — I'm trying. There's just… there's something in my head. A hallway. I'm standing before someone — talking to them? They're looking past me. I'm not me — a woman. I'm seeing from her. Dr. Laine looks on in confusion. Dr. Darrow: She's dressed in a grey suit. Dr. Aamar: …Wait, that sounds familiar. Dr. Laine: He's describing 8316. The body. Dr. Aamar rushes over to the two, they crouch down next to Dr. Darrow and puts a hand on his shoulder. Both of the man's eyes have become overtaken by SCP-8316-1. His head is drooped down. Dr. Aamar: No — no, not just that. Antimemetic, grey formal wear. Ain't that the one consistent thing with Nobody? The GOI? Dr. Laine: That seems like a stretch — wouldn't they have realized that when they found the body? Dr. Aamar: That exact reasoning could've caused them to brush aside that possibility in the first place. There is silence for a moment, aside from Dr. Darrow's breathing. Dr. Laine then shakes their head. Dr. Darrow: She succeeded her role. Dr. Aamar: …what, like some sort of transfer? Transferring being… "Nobody" to someone else? Dr. Darrow: Transfer. Succession. [He coughs, black sludge drips down his chin] The corpse. The body they found — it must've already happened. Dr. Laine: So, what? It's transferring to you?! Are you becoming— Dr. Aamar: …I don't think there's any role for him to take, there's only one at a time. The body we found must've been the… previous Nobody? So there's already another. Dr. Aamar pauses, squeezing their eyes shut. They back away from Dr. Laine and Darrow. Dr. Aamar: He's dying, Laine. Dr. Laine: He's not — Sam, you are not going to die — site medical is on the way, they'll do something— Dr. Darrow raises his head, stares at nothing. SCP-8316-1 leaks down his face, thick like mucous. It stains his shirt and coat. Dr. Laine: Samson..? Dr. Darrow: I… see something. There are footsteps down the hall. Dr. Laine: Samson, please, please they're almost here — hang in there— Dr. Darrow lets out a long, shuddering exhale. Dr. Darrow: …the Compass spins eternal. His head drops down. He goes still. Dr. Laine: …Samson..? Silence. Afterword: By the time that on-site medical aid arrived to Lab 2B, Dr. Darrow was already deceased. His body, alongside those of Drs. Smith-Jones and Owens, were cremated after the removal of SCP-8316-1. Addendum 8316.1: On 12/03/2001, all samples of SCP-8316-1 were found to have vanished entirely from Lab 2B's cold storage. Investigation of security tapes discovered a figure with the characteristic informational-blackout silhouette of POI-0003. The individual, now considered to be an iteration of GOI-000, had entered during the timeframe in which a portion of the site's antimemetic detection system was deactivated for troubleshooting. POI-000 proceeded to locate Lab 2B, retrieve all samples of SCP-8316-1 from cold storage, and depart from the site without detection. The following note was recovered within Lab 2B: Do not meddle with what is not yours. The implications of this statement — and Incident 8316.1 — have been considered, and the following actions have been made: SCP-8316-1 has been reclassified to SCP-8316. SCP-8316 has been reclassified to POI-000.4 Footnotes 1. Some reported a "sickly sweetness in the air" 2. Determined to be that of a 20 year old woman, dressed in grey 3. "Nobody" 4. The deceased iteration's body is now scheduled for cremation. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8316" by Dino—Draws, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8316. 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: memorium.png Name: Test tubes 1911 (3190778231).jpg Author: Snyder, Frank R. License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Small edits were done to the image |
SCP-8317 | neutralized | Item #: SCP-8317 Special Containment Procedures: Containment of SCP-8317 is currently unnecessary. The Foundation believes that there is no tangible benefit to attempting to reconstitute SCP-8317-A or any related media following SCP-8317. Description: SCP-8317 refers to a CK-Class Reality Restructuring Scenario that took place as a result of temporal alteration in the United Kingdom in mid-1990. During this time GOI-8317("Man. U. Eternal"), a group of time-travelers with a vested interest in altering the outcome of football matches, attempted to interfere with a match involving the Manchester United and Arsenal Football Clubs; their actions inadvertently resulted in changes to the timeline that primarily altered western popular culture. SCP-8317 is believed to be connected to an attack GOI-8317 carried out on the Manchester Piccadilly railway station,1 which resulted in a four-day-long disruption of service as the station was closed for inspection and repairs. This disrupted the travel itineraries of potentially millions of individuals in the United Kingdom, among which is POI-8317. POI-8317 refers to Joanne Murray (b. 1965), a Scottish author best known for writing mystery novels under the pen name of John W. Money.2 Following SCP-8317, Murray's first novel, The Perished Parish, was published in 2012; while the novel found acclaim, Murray quickly fell out of favor after she began writing under her pseudonym, with common criticisms including her works being under-edited, confusingly formatted, and featuring content that promotes anti-LGBT stereotypes and anti-feminist politics. Her 2023 novel The Swift Tomb failed to appear on any bestseller lists, launching at 92nd place in the UK book charts. However, data recovered from a Deepwell catalog indicates that, prior to SCP-8317 occurring, Murray was once one of the best-selling authors in human history, due to authoring a series of between five and nine children's fantasy novels, which would subsequently be turned into a large media franchise consisting of up to a dozen films, several video game adaptations, at least one stage play, and potentially a "land" in a major theme park; this franchise has been designated SCP-8317-A. Foundation attempts to reconstitute SCP-8317-A has resulted in several consequences that the Foundation feels are detrimental; for a partial list, see addenda. Addendum: Consequences of Reconstitution Efforts: Due to the fact that SCP-8317-A was a cultural touchstone for younger Millennials and Generation Z, the Department of Temporal Anomalies attempted to halt the efforts of GOI-8317 and undo SCP-8317. However, attempts to stop or alter the incident at Manchester Piccadilly station that caused SCP-8317 has resulted in several undesirable consequences on human politics, culture, and society as a whole. Attempts to alter the timeline back to its pre-SCP-8317 state has resulted in the following. Current Timeline: The highest-grossing fantasy film franchise3 is The Lord of the Rings, based on the novels by J. R. R. Tolkien. Peter Jackson's The Hobbit starring Martin Freeman, released in 2013, is generally considered a faithful follow-up, with plans to adapt portions of The Simarillion being aborted due to "creative conflict" with the Tolkien estate. SCP-8317-A Timeline: Jackson's The Hobbit is made into a trilogy, and is largely considered of inferior quality to the original The Lord of the Rings films. Notably, Sir Ian McKellan suffered a breakdown on set of this production, due to the extensive usage of green screen, as opposed to the practical effects the original films used. Current Timeline: The Earthsea series by Ursula K. LeGuin is adapted into a series of films in the mid-2000s, with British actor Alfred Enoch as Sparrowhawk. The films are released to critical acclaim and are credited with reinvigorating the fantasy genre, after the end of The Lord of the Rings. SCP-3817-A Timeline: The only adaptations of Earthsea which exist are a 2004 miniseries (which cast Canadian actor Shawn Ashmore as Sparrowhawk) and a 2006 animated film, both of which released to mixed-to-negative reception. Current Timeline: The Old Kingdom, based on the novels by Garth Nix, is a niche but well-respected series of fantasy films with a cult following. In 2009, actress Charlotte Watson, best known for playing the character of Sabriel, became the first actress to be nominated for an Oscar for their role in a fantasy film. SCP-8317-A Timeline: The Old Kingdom exists solely as a series of novels. Watson, operating under a different name, starred as the tritagonist in the film series based off of SCP-8317-A, and never found the same level of success she did in the current timeline. Current Timeline: Former U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger dies of an aneurysm in 1999 at the age of 76. SCP-8317-A Timeline: Kissinger survives until 2023 and dies at the age of 100, influencing U.S. foreign policy well into the 21st century. Currently, the correlation between SCP-8317-A's existence and Kissinger's longevity is unclear. Current Timeline: The Chronicles of Narnia is adapted into a film series beginning in 2005. By 2015, all of the novels are adapted; the adaptation of The Last Battle includes a post-credits scene where it's shown that Susan Pevensie, who had previously been been assumed to have been denied entry into Narnia, is able to rejoin her family after her death, in accordance with plans made by C.S. Lewis before his passing. Actor Ben Barnes, notable for playing Prince Caspian, would later go on to star in the 2009 television series Star Trek: Andromeda, wherein he played Captain Jasper Simons, who was responsible for commanding the first extra-galactic Starfleet expedition. SCP-8317-A Timeline: The franchise still exists, but only up until The Voyage of the Dawn Treader; due to competition from SCP-8317-A, a complete adaptation of The Chronicles of Narnia has yet to manifest in timelines where it exists. Barnes's acting career has yet to manifest in this timeline, beyond the two final Narnia films and assorted TV roles. Current Timeline: Following the publication of the final novel in A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin in 2018 and ten successful seasons of Game of Thrones on HBO, a boom in high/dark fantasy adaptations occurs; Amazon adapts The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan, Netflix acquires the rights to The Twilight Saga by Stephanie Meyer, and as of 2023, Disney+ is attempting to adapt Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn series. SCP-8317-A Timeline: A Song of Ice and Fire remains incomplete as of 2024, due to the plans for Martin's books (which originally involved a five-year time jump) being thrown off; Game Of Thrones suffers from a drop in quality from Season 5 onwards, to the point where portions of its audience speculate that the showrunners were committing purposeful sabotage. The Wheel of Time is the only extant adaptation that comes about as a result of Game of Thrones's success. The Twilight Saga was adapted into a series of five movies contemporaneously with the release of the films based on SCP-8317-A, and are of lower quality both in terms of writing and acting than in the current timeline. Attempts to turn Mistborn into a media franchise include several poorly-received table-top role playing games and at least two aborted video game adaptations, before the character of Kelsier was integrated into the video game Fortnite. Current Timeline: The Witcher, a Polish fantasy series by Andrzej Sapkowski, enjoyed success with several adaptations, first as a Polish television series in 2001, and then as a video game franchise from 2007 until the early 2020s, when The Witcher 4: Lady of Worlds was released. A second TV series, produced by Netflix, began airing in 2019, starring Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia, and has enjoyed widespread acclaim from both audiences and critics. SCP-8317-A Timeline: Mostly unchanged; The Witcher 4 remains in development as of 2024, due to financial complications and online backlash related to another project the studio had released. The Netflix adaptation of The Witcher lost Henry Cavill for the fourth and final season, apparently due to creative differences and frustration over the treatment of the source material; Liam Hemsworth, a relatively unknown actor in the current timeline, is intended to take over the role. Current Timeline: "My Undying" is a piece of fanfiction focusing on The Lord of the Rings, and a tenth, female member of the Fellowship, the "Elven Princess" Du Tywyllch Canys Cigfran Fford, who enters into relationships with all members of the party except for Boromir and Gandalf; however, a large part of the work is focused on a romantic and erotic relationship between Gimli and Legolas. "My Undying" is largely regarded as both one of the most famous and lowest-quality pieces of fanfiction on the internet, and has several essays, both in written and video form, dedicated to analyzing it. SCP-8317-A Timeline: The author based this timeline's equivalent of "My Undying" off of SCP-8317-A instead; beyond the changes in characters and venue, it is still widely considered one of the best-known and worst-written fanfictions in existence. Addendum: Moratorium on SCP-8317-A Reconstitution Efforts: SCP-8317 demonstrates the need for constant vigilance regarding temporal anomalies and the unintended consequences of manipulating the time stream; however, it also demonstrates that in some cases, the damage to the timeline does not require repair. As a result of SCP-8317-A's absence, a large portion of the English-speaking internet — particularly "fan sites" such as wikis, blogs, and art-hosting websites —has been irreparably lost. The vacuum left by SCP-8317-A's absence has ultimately been filled by other works of the fantasy genre, both in terms of middle grade novels such as His Dark Materials and Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and more advanced work such as World of the Five Gods and Malazan Book of the Fallen. Given that the loss of SCP-8317-A seems to have had a negligible, if not downright positive, impact on human culture, the lost or severely diminished careers of several former child actors notwithstanding, and its status as a work of children's fantasy literature, the O5 Council has determined that the work does not merit further attempts at recovery or reconstitution. In addition to the consequences of previous reconstitution attempts, this decision has been influenced by several factors: The widespread popularity of the fantasy genre despite the absence of SCP-8317-A. The persistence of media influenced by SCP-8317-A, with minimal changes. SCP-8317 resulting in the retroactive neutralization of at least one other anomaly, now only known from the Deepwell Survey. Furthermore, other Groups of Interest have reached out to the Foundation, concurring that the existence of SCP-8317-A is a net loss for humankind; for instance, an agent of the Serpent's Hand, addressing themselves as "N.L.Z.", wrote: …It still exists in other timelines, so I was able to track down some copies in the Library. It's pretty mid. I can see how you could latch onto the first few books if you were ten and it was your first experience in the genre, but the vibes get increasingly bad as the series goes on and the plot starts falling apart. Overwhelmingly white except for token characters with no influence on plot or character development, no LGBT presence at all except for some lightly coded characters who get killed off, presents the abolition of slave labor as a position worth mockery at one point. Definitely not worth four months in the Deep Stacks trying to find it. 5/10, DNF Book 6/7 @45% As such, the decision to declare SCP-8317 as neutralized, and not attempt to reconstitute SCP-8317-A, has been upheld by the O5 Council since its discovery. Footnotes 1. No human casualties ensued, only damage to property; publicly, the attack was blamed on an ineffective cell of the Irish Republican Army. 2. Notably deriving the pseudonym from a New Zealand sexologist who performed unethical gender reassignment experiments on infants. 3. With the exception of the D.C. Comics Extended Universe. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8317" by Ihp, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8317. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8319 | keter | #page-content .collapsible-block { position: relative; padding: 0.5em; margin: 0.5em; box-shadow: 2px 1.5px 1px rgba(176,16,0,0.7), 0 0 0px 1px lightgrey; overflow-wrap: break-word; } .collapsible-block-unfolded{ color: black; overflow-wrap: break-word; } .collapsible-block-unfolded-link { text-align:center; } .collapsible-block-folded { text-align: center; color: dimgrey; } .collapsible-block-link { font-weight: bold; color: dimgrey; text-align: center; } .addendumbox { padding: .01em 16px; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-top: 16px; padding-bottom: 1em; box-shadow:0 2px 5px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.16),0 2px 10px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.12); } .material-box { padding: .01em 16px; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-top: 16px; padding-bottom: 1em; border: 1px lightgrey solid; box-shadow: 1px 2px 2px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.16); } .material-box blockquote { border: 1px double #999; } .wiki-content-table { width: 100%; } .addendumbox blockquote { border: 1px double #999; } .addendumtitle { opacity: 0.8; margin-bottom: 10px; color: #b01; } .maintitle { margin-bottom: 10px; color: black; } .scp-header { text-align: center; font-size:x-large; color:#b01; } .addenda-header { width: 100%; border-bottom: 2px black solid; color: black; } .scp-info { display:flex; justify-content:space-between; font-size:large; } .scp-info-box { display:flex; justify-content:space-between; } .object-info { color:black; align-self: flex-end; font-size: large; } .title-style { opacity: 0.8; margin-bottom: 10px; color: #b01; font-size: large; text-decoration: underline; font-weight: bold; } .update-div-empty { text-align: right; font-size: x-small; color: lightgrey; } .update-div { text-align: right; font-size: x-small; } .computed { border: 1px black solid; width: 50%; display: inline-block; text-align: left; padding: 3px; } .computed:before { content:"Computed Code"; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: solid 1px black; width: 100%; } .rawcode { border: black solid 1px; width: 50%; display: inline-block; text-align: left; padding: 3px; } .rawcode:before{ content:"Raw Code"; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: solid 1px black; width: 100%; } .codebox { display: inline-block; width: 100%; text-align: center; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em, .yui-navset .yui-nav a em{ padding: 0.25em .75em; top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a { background: gray; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected { margin: 0px; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a { background: gray; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus { background: gainsboro; text-decoration: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a { background-color: none; background-image: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a { background: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li{ margin: 0px; } #page-content .licensebox .collapsible-block { position: unset; padding: unset; margin: unset; box-shadow: unset; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-unfolded{ color: inherit; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-unfolded-link { text-align: left; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-folded { text-align: left; color: inherit; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-link { color: inherit; text-align: left; } close Info X SCP-8319 “Su-Girl Pills! Your life will be sugar spice, and everything nice!” by: Mew-ltiverse Read more of my stuff ⚠️ Content warning: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse, depictions of emotional abuse, mentions of suicidal ideation ⚠️ content warning 3/8319 LEVEL 3/8319 CLASSIFIED Item #: SCP-8319 Special Containment Procedures: Web-Crawler Delta 532 (“ADDICTIONSANOMALOUS”) is to continuously monitor the web for mentions of SCP-8319. All mentions are to be archived and removed. All known SCP-8319-1 instances are to be housed within Site-987. Only Foundation employees with XY sex chromosomes are allowed within this facility. Description SCP-8319 refers to a collection of circular tablet pills. SCP-8319's packaging consists of a white circular bottle with a twistable lid, and a printed-on label that reads the following: Su-Girl Pills Your life will be sugar spice, and everything nice! Produced by Just Girly Things Visit our website at www.justgirlythings.██ Any individual who has XX sex chromosomes who ingests one individual instance of SCP-8319 will begin to experience a series of vivid hallucinations. Individuals who ingest SCP-8319 have been designated SCP-8319-1. SCP-8319-1 have displayed an inability to differentiate the effects of SCP-8319 from reality. This fact has made it difficult to determine exactly what these hallucinations entail. When SCP-8319-1 instances were asked to describe their experience on SCP-8319, the majority used one or more of the following phrases: Cute, pink, dream like, happier, perfect, glittery, better. All instances of SCP-8319-1 have all displayed symptoms of a perpetual dissociative state. SCP-8319 has been noticed to change the behavior of those who ingest it, causing them to be less emotional and more compliant. Most SCP-8319-1 appear to be fond of GOI-4319 “Just Girly Things” and the ideals it promotes, although it is unknown how many are actually members. It has been determined that the more of SCP-8319 that an individual digests, the worse this state becomes. As time passed, SCP-8319-1 individuals develop trouble recalling their lives prior to ingesting SCP-8319. It is currently been deemed impossible to nullify the effects of SCP-8319. It is unknown how many SCP-8319-1 instances there are as of current. SCP-8319-1 instances will continuously attempt to advertise SCP-8319 to any individual with XX sex chromosomes until they agree to try SCP-8319. It has been observed that SCP-8319-1 are successful approximately 98% of the time. It is not known what causes this effect, or what causes an individual to be immune to it. SCP-8319-1 instances are capable of producing bottles of SCP-8319 to give to the individuals they advertise to through unknown means. SCP-8319-1 have not been observed to manifest SCP-8319 any other time. Addendum: SCP-8319 Origins During Foundation Web-Crawler Delta 532's search of the web, it discovered multiple notable cases of SCP-8319 being discussed online. The first discussion of SCP-8319 was traced back to a forum titled Wandering Souls, a forum dedicated for individuals to discuss their mental health. User “Ella Romero” has been determined to be POI-1943 from GOI-4319. User "laceyribbon" was unable to be traced. This is concluded to be due to GOI-4319's ability to obscure the personal information of its members. The following documents the recorded information. Information Logs – hide block /u laceyribbon A cry for help IG Hi. I'm new here. And I'm probably not gonna post again but I just needed to get this off my chest. I'm at a fucking loss here. I'm a 19 year old girl who still lives with her parents because a minimum wage job doesn't pay for housing, and I almost killed myself when I was still in college. My parents never shut up about the fact that I dropped out of college. Like sorry but I was so fucking close to just downing my fucking Risperdal one night because I had SO MUCH homework and I couldnt fucking understand some of it AND I had to work part time. I now work full time cause I have to help pay off my college fees and I'm going crazy. My medication has just made my anxiety worse but my mom fuckin makes me take my meds in front of her cause last time she found out I stopped taking them and says that the doctor said I need it and my meds make me like less "difficult" to deal with. But they just make my memory worse and make me tired. I'm fucking terrified of what my parents will do next because my mom is making me apply for college again and I'm just afraid I'm not ready. I'm terrified because they basically insinuated that I'm not gonna have a place to stay if I don't. This just feels like a nightmare. I don't know what I'm going to do. My parents are really scary people and I can't even get into all of it. I don't have any irl friends, so moving in with a friend isn't an option. I don't even have many online friends because I'm so busy and don't usually have time to find places to belong. I wish I could just move out but it's so expensive to live on my own, and I just don't fucking have the money for it. I'm considering if it's even worth living anymore. I'm not even sure what I'm writing this for. I guess I just want people to know about me if I decide I can't do this. Um, thanks for reading. 7 comments Ella Romero Omg, you seem to be going through so much! Like, you're totally lost. I so hate seeing my fellow girl suffering, especially someone so young! I've got something that can totally help you, and don't worry, it's free! laceyribbon What does that mean? Ella Romero We shouldn't hog up the comment section! I'm gonna pm you! laceyribbon Um, ok Conversation with Ella Romero Ella Romero: Hello! I'm part of an online group of girls that are all for helping support other girls! There are many girls that do DIYs, make recipes, and even alternative medicines to help each girl there feel her best! laceyribbon: So? Ella Romero: I think you should join us! And I know a girl who's got the perfect thing for you! laceyribbon: I don't really have the time to join online groups. Ella Romero: Oh, don't worry! You don't have to talk that much! We're pretty laid back. We're called Just Girly Things! laceyribbon: I see laceyribbon: That's an interesting name laceyribbon: What sorta item can make my problems go away? I appreciate the thought, but I'm broke, my parents are abusive, I'm alone, I'm tired and my medication just makes my life worse Ella Romero: I know that I'm just a stranger, but your situation totally spoke to me. I've got a good friend that's gone through some horrible things laceyribbon: I'm so sorry Ella Romero: She's like, one of the sweetest girls I know! Her trauma stripped her of her girlhood and made her feel unlovable. Ella Romero: But then the site creator found her and totally restored her girlhood! We've got girls in all stages of life on the site! laceyribbon: Wow Ella Romero: It's great, I so promise! You can trust me when I say this! I can totally hook you up and get you a FREE sample of this new thing one of our girls made! they're called Su-Girl pills! laceyribbon: that's a strange name Ella Romero: Well I think it's cute! Anyway! You know how marijuana helps people mellow out? laceyribbon: Yes Ella Romero: Well these are like that, but made JUST for girls! Ya know, just girly things! Ella Romero: hehe laceyribbon: I'm just not sure laceyribbon: My parents don't let me order packages, my mom will tell my dad and he'll check them out Ella Romero: I can get them to you and avoid all that! laceyribbon: You can? Ella Romero: Toats! I've got an idea! If you're not sure, you should so talk to some of the other girls! I'll send you the invite! Ella Romero: [INACCESSIBLE LINK] laceyribbon: Hm, okay. Redirecting to www.justgirlychats.███ #JGT_GeneralChat Play nice girls! Real girls are always well-behaved. Topic set by KeeLee on Fri Sep 01 2023 04:31:07 GMT-0400 (Eastern Daylight Time) <Lacey has joined the chat> (10:33) Ella: Okay girls! I have someone to introduce you to! Lacey: Um, hello KeeLee:Hello there, I'm KeeLee, the creator of JGT. I always welcome new members. Lacey: I haven't agreed to join yet Ella: I invited her to talk to you all! To see how supportive us JGT girlies can be to our fellow girl! Jess It's nice to meet you! Lacey: Thank you Lacey: I've been going through some really tough times lately. Ella: Don't you worry girl, we totally got you! Ella: Totally feel free to talk to us! KeeLee: .seen Mimi JGTBot: Mimi was last online four hours ago! Lacey: Ella said she had this sorta weed alternative that could help me Jess Oh, she recommended those? Lacey: Is there something wrong with them? KeeLee: Not at all! Jess Oh yeah, I just didn't know we releasing them yet. Lola: You're very lucky, it's not often that KeeLee lets new members try new products. Ella: Yeah lol, I had to run it by KeeLee first but she said she's toats okay with it!! Lacey: Oh, that's cool Lola: Yes, the girls here are very kind. You know, I've found that JGT has really helped me become the mother I've always wanted to be. I've been closer than ever with my youngest daughter. I think JGT could really be the support system you need. Lacey: I've been having some problems with my parents KeeLee: .tell Mimi I've got someone I want you to talk to! JGTBot: Got it! I'll let her know lickety-split! Ella: Mhm! My little sister has been her happiest version of herself once I introduced her to JGT! Jess: Issues with your parents? I hope you’re okay Lacey: Yeah… my parents don’t understand that my medication has been taking a toll on me Lacey: And that I can’t apply for college again because it would be psychological suicide Ella: I didn’t go to college, and I’ve turned out perfectly! You don’t need to go back. Lacey: I just feel like my parents don’t understand or care about me and I don’t have any friends Jess: I’m so sorry :< <Angel has joined the chat> (10:45) Lacey: My parents always tell me to stop whining when I try to tell them how I feel, that like sometimes medications have side affects and that's not a reason to "be a whiny bitch" about it Angel: Hello girls! Lola: Hello Angel! Ella: Angel! Omg, meet Lacey! She’s our newest JGT girly! Lacey: I still didn’t say I’d join Angel: You’re going to love it here! Jess: It probably sucks that they don’t care how you feel. They’re your parents, they should care about you… Lacey: That's what I say Angel: Your parents make you take medication? What is it for? Lacey: It's an antipsychotic for my bipolar Angel: They shouldn't make you take medication. That crap messes with your brain and stops you from being the real best you! Lacey: Wait no I don't think medications are bad Lacey: Mine just make me dizzy and tired and make my memory shit Angel: It sounds to me they're just using it to control you! KeeLee: You're in luck, because she might be the very first to test the Su-Girl pills! Ella: Yess! So exciting! Angel: See, the things that Mimi makes are the only kind of medication I trust. So many "medications" prescribed nowadays go against the natural plan that God has. Jess: I think you guys are kinda speaking over Lacey <Jess has been kicked from #JGT_GeneralChat by KeeLee (Take some time to reflect and come back later.)> Lacey: Huh? What did she do? KeeLee: Don't worry about it. <Mimi has joined the chat> (10:50) Mimi: I got your tell. KeeLee: Mimi! Hey girl! Ella found a girl that can try out your pills! Lacey: Hi Mimi: That's wonderful. Hello, Lacey. I'm Mimi, I like to see what sort of health supplements I can create to help my fellow girl. Lacey: That's really cool Ella: She's a real miracle worker! The diet pills she made for me are toats amazing, they take away the "pain" in beauty is pain! KeeLee: I usually consider science to be boyish, but Mimi's got a charm to the way she works. Plus all her products help girls be their best. Mimi: Thank you. Mimi: Tell me, Lacey, what is your greatest wish? Lacey: Greatest wish? Mimi: If you could make anything happen with the snap of your fingers, what would it be? Lacey: Well Lacey: I'd want my parents to just listen to me for once Mimi: I think my pills can help you. Mimi: What did Ella tell you about them? Lacey: That they help people chill out like weed Ella: You know I'm not into the boyish science, lol! Mimi: These pills can help you parents listen to you. Because not only do they help you have a better mindset, but they can make what you say to your parents something that will make them listen to you. Lacey: Really? Mimi: This is a promise from me to you. Ella: And like I said, we'll get them to you for free with no trouble! Lacey: … Lacey: Okay Lacey: I'll try them KeeLee: Woohoo! Everyone congratulate Lacey for being our first girl to try the Su-Girl pills! Ella: Yes, congrats girl! Lola: Congratulations! Lacey: Thank you Lacey: You all seem to really believe in the stuff Mimi makes, so why not Lacey: It feels weird that pills will fix my problems but Lacey: Anyway, I should go to sleep, I've got work early tomorrow Angel: Maybe one day you'll have a hubby that can work for the both of you! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Lacey: Haha Lacey: I want a job just one I like Lacey: Anyway, you were all very nice, I'll see you later Lola: Update us about the pills! Lacey: I will Lacey: Bye <Lacey has quit the chat> (11:04) Lola: She seemed a bit… "normie"? KeeLee: Oh don't you worry, she's exactly what we needed! #JGT_GeneralChat Play nice girls! Real girls are always well-behaved. Topic set by KeeLee on Fri Sep 01 2023 04:31:07 GMT-0400 (Eastern Daylight Time) <Lacey has joined the chat> (04:41) Lacey: hiiiiiii Ella: Hey girl!! Angel Hey Lacey! Angel How are you doing? Lacey: fun Lacey: everything is so pretty Lacey: the liquid is pink now Jess: The liquid? Lacey: my skin glitters Lacey: it all looks nicer Ella: Oh, you've tried the pills! Ella: Did they help? Jess: Are things better with your parents? Lacey: they did get confused Lacey: but they started making sense Lacey: they said something about needing to fix something Lacey: I think my parents could be happier Lacey: I realized that I caused so many problems not listening to my dad too Lacey: Mimi Lacey: do they work on guys Mimi: Unfortunately they do not. Lacey: thats fine Lacey: if my mom is happier my dad will be Lacey: if they do what they did for me Lacey: my dad will like my mom Lacey: finally Lacey: im also like Lacey: joing jgt now Lacey: can everything about it make me happy? KeeLee Absolutely! We're glad to have you aboard! Jess: Um, I'm happy that you're happy! KeeLee Well now that we know the pills are a success, we can start to market them! Jess, wanna be trial number two? Jess: What? KeeLee Just kidding! Lacey, feel free to give them to anyone you know! Lacey: I dont have any friends in real life but I have coworkers Lacey: I shouldnt have doubted you guys Mimi: I'm glad that something I made was able to make you more confident in yourself. Lacey: yeah Lacey: I have work soon Ella: Get ready! I'm sure any of your female coworkers will be glad you want to help them! Lacey: bye KeeLee Bye Lacey! Talk to you again soon! <Lacey has quit the chat> (04:46) Conversation with Lacey Jess: Hey Lacey, I wanted to talk to you Lacey: okay you can talk to me Jess: I don't exactly know how these pills work, but I'm kinda worried Jess: How exactly did they make things better with your parents? Lacey: they asked me things Lacey: and I replied to them Lacey: they got confused Jess: I already know all that, you said it in the main chat. I'm just afraid that you're not really… you anymore. Jess: From what I saw of you, you seemed like a nice and strong girl! Jess: It's honestly been a really long time since I've talked to someone that didn't agree to KeeLee right away Jess: It was refreshing Jess: seeing a woman with a job and a life outside of being "the perfect girl" Jess: I think the perfect girl depends on the girl, y'know? Lacey: mimi ella and keelee were right though Lacey: life is sparkling Lacey: im happy Jess: Are you? Lacey: yes Lacey: unless you think im not Jess: That's not for me to decide, Lacey. That's up to you. Lacey: I gave some to my coworkers Lacey: so we can be happy together Lacey: everyone needs to be happier Lacey: even if they say they dont Jess: What happened? Lacey: I put them in their purses so I dont know Lacey: ill see them happier tomorrow Lacey: I gave one to my mom Jess: You gave them to your mom? Jess: What happened? Lacey: she said she's happier now Lacey: she said the glitter looked better now Lacey: my family is finally peaceful Jess: … I see Lacey: you should try them Lacey: so you can be happier Jess: I'm already happy Jess: I'll um, talk to you later Jess: Oh uh Jess: don't tell KeeLee about this, okay? Lacey: k #SuGirlPills Side chat where JGTBot can relay messages if any of us aren't online. Topic set by KeeLee on Wed Aug 25 2023 06:02:18 GMT-0400 (Eastern Daylight Time) Ella: KeeLee! I found a girl who's perfect! Ella: I just sent her an invite to the chat! KeeLee: Not the site, right? Just the chat? Ella: Yep! KeeLee: Good work, Ella. We'll see how this goes. KeeLee: JGTBot, tell Mimi Ella found a girl. We'll try to get her to agree to take them, but try to get on. You know its time sensitive. JGTBot: On it! #SuGirlPills Side chat where JGTBot can relay messages if any of us aren't online. Topic set by KeeLee on Wed Aug 25 2023 06:02:18 GMT-0400 (Eastern Daylight Time) KeeLee: JGTBot, tell Mimi I need you to get on. We can butter her up all we want but you're the one that knows how these work. And if she converts before she takes them this is all for nothing. JGTBot: On it! Ella: I'm trying to hype her up, too! But I don't know how the pills work. <Mimi has joined the chat> (10:50) Mimi: Hey. KeeLee: Thank goodness you're here. What have you been doing? Mimi: Does it matter? KeeLee: I suppose not for now. She's very stubborn. Work your magic. Mimi: On it, leave it to me. #SuGirlPills Side chat where JGTBot can relay messages if any of us aren't online. Topic set by KeeLee on Wed Aug 25 2023 06:02:18 GMT-0400 (Eastern Daylight Time) KeeLee: She was relatively stubborn. The pills really worked! Mimi: They worked exactly as expected. Ella: We've gotten 15 new sign ups in the last two hours.! KeeLee: It's not the sign ups I care about. KeeLee: But anyway, absolutely perfect! You're a total miracle worker!! KeeLee: You know much more about all the icky science than I do, lol. Mimi: I'll continue to observe the effects. Don't sell yourselves short. You did a wonderful job scouting for a trial girl, Ella. This girl is perfect. Ella: Aw, thanks girl! KeeLee: I'm very excited to see where this new project can lead us. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8319" by Mew-ltiverse, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8319. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8320 | keter | close Info X CONTENT WARNING: Gun violence If audio is not working on mobile, switch to desktop mode. ⚠️ content warning Item#: SCP-8320 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: To date, the existence of the Foundation itself is kept from public knowledge. The Foundation, the Global Occult Coalition, and the Unusual Incidents Unit have entered into a temporary agreement to identify themselves to the public under the umbrella of a single entity titled the “Sourcery Initiative.” Disinformation claiming that SCP-8320 is an isolated incident and the only extant anomaly is currently being propagated, with pseudoscience explaining the phenomenon in non-anomalous terms currently being devised. Instances of SCP-8320-1 are to be detained using remote detonating thaumaturgical anchors and handled by no fewer than 7 armed personnel trained in anti-magic combat. Instances of SCP-8320-1 are to be shot in the head on sight. Description: SCP-8320 is a phenomenon globally affecting all domestic cats. Although this effect is fully reversible and does not inherently harm the animal, the resulting increase in intelligence, dexterity, and anomalous ability has resulted in the spread of populations and the misplacement of many house pets. The effect was caused by Eric █████, a 23-year-old resident of Brentwood, New Hampshire, known henceforth as PoI-8320. PoI-8320 has been missing since June 4, 2025, the date SCP-8320 initially occurred. From evidence recovered at the scene, SCP-8320 was likely caused by PoI-8320’s attempt to use some manner of anomalous item (missing) to turn his cat (also missing) into a “magical creature.”1 SCP-8320 and the ensuing events began instantaneously at 3:08am on June 4, 2025, when every member of the species Felis catus2 suddenly transformed into Type Green humanoid reality benders, designated instances of SCP-8320-1, all with common physical characteristics. Observed common characteristics within instances of SCP-8320-1 include: Very elderly, regardless of the age of the original animal Long-haired and bearded, regardless of sex of the humanoid Wearing large hats, usually pointed or otherwise eclectically shaped Wearing floor-length robes, tunics, or capes in bright colors, often embroidered with simple shapes like stars or crescents Carrying wooden staffs or wands Instance of SCP-8320-1 Instances of SCP-8320-1 are observed to be of greater safety risk to the public when many are present in a small space. The instances appear to be immensely territorial, and will frequently employ anomalous measures to eject other instances from their perceived territory. These conflicts have resulted in significant property damage through the use of anomalous abilities, but relatively few civilian casualties. SCP-8320-1 instances are almost always friendly to humans in spite of their massive aggression toward one another. Common SCP-8320-1 behaviors that present a danger to the public include: The spontaneous creation of narrow, but very tall stone towers Throwing balls of fire, bolts of electricity, or other concentrations of energy at other SCP-8320-1 instances with disregard to surrounding structures, people, or wildlife The creation of small, localized weather events (primarily thunderstorms) The attack and consumption of small poultry (pigeons, game hens, etc.) Handmade poster found near the residence of PoI-8320. Addendum – Lifted Veil Scenario 8320 We have a very big problem on our hands and that problem has appeared in the form of about 700 million wizards. - Memo from Dr. E. Weatherwax The sudden appearance of millions of anomalous humanoids in place of domestic cats immediately resulted in a BK-Class Lifted Veil scenario. Due to the scale of the anomaly, initial containment was impossible.3 In addition to the sheer number of instances, their anomalous abilities and general intelligence made containing individual specimens extremely difficult. Embedded Foundation agents and social engineers are currently working to keep public knowledge of anomalies limited to SCP-8320 specifically, perpetuating the idea that SCP-8320 is a singular, isolated incident. Prior to the discovery that SCP-8320-1 instances originated from cats, the Foundation apprehended several instances for containment and questioning. NOTE: Instance SCP-8320-1 was captured near Site-109 shortly after SCP-8320 took effect. It was discovered hovering several feet off the ground, drinking tea, and eating a small bird whole. [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Vimes: So, from my understanding, you are a wizard. SCP-8320-1: That’s my understanding as well! Dr. Vimes: Why are you here? And why were you eating that bird? SCP-8320-1: They call me Morgo the Magnificent! Dr. Vimes: Who calls you that? SCP-8320-1: Oh, most people. Dr. Vimes: I don’t. SCP-8320-1: No matter. I must return to my tower. The books get lonely when I’m away long. Dr. Vimes: You have a tower? SCP-8320-1: Of course! All good wizards have towers. Dr. Vimes: I haven’t seen any tower near here. SCP-8320-1: Then there must not be many good wizards. Dr. Vimes: I don’t think you have an tower. I think you’re lying. SCP-8320-1: Wizards can’t lie. Breaks us out in hives. Dr. Vimes: All wizards are allergic to lying? SCP-8320-1: Yes. And bee stings. [At this moment, Dr. Helit enters, draws a sidearm, and shoots SCP-8320-1 in the head.] [SCP-8320-1 vanishes in a burst of glittering, pale blue spoke, leaving behind a gray, long-haired cat.] Dr. Vimes: Good Lord, Helit. Why did you do that? Dr. Helit: I saw one of those bastards earlier. Sitting in my good chair. Just showed up in my house. Dr. Vimes: And you shot him? Dr. Helit: I panicked. But now I have my cat back, so it all worked out, didn’t it? [END LOG] The Foundation contained and neutralized a number of SCP-8320-1 instances before coming to the conclusion that, while capable of perfect human speech, instances of SCP-8320-1 cannot be properly classified as having a human level of intelligence. Site-109 created a specially-designed mobile vehicle for apprehending instances, equipped with anchoring and anti-magic devices. Force was used at a much lower frequency when it was discovered that most SCP-8320-1 instances will enter containment willingly upon being told something of interest is in the vehicle, like a grimoire or a bird. In an attempt to gather information about the origin of SCP-8320, instances were captured and held in the back of the vehicle, where agents would ask them simple questions. Upon determining that the instance did not have an appropriate level of intelligence to reliably answer additional questions, the instance was neutralized with a non-anomalous hand gun, and released as close to the capture location as possible. Site-109’s SCP-8320 reconnaissance team captured and neutralized several SCP-8320-1 instances using the following line of questioning. Where did all the wizards come from? Lucian the Garrulous “From over the tallest mountain and through the widest river.” Oswald the Itchy "From off the back of a very large turtle." Mazdor the Overconfident “From my mummy and daddy.” What are your goals or intentions here? Axar the Lackadaisical "I have come to save the kingdom from the wicked demon Lostharnac."4 Thaddius the Nasty "To be perhaps some sort of healer or other man of science to serve the unwashed masses." Jeremy the Trespasser "I'm running away from death. He'll never find me here." What is a house cat? Cassius the Powerful "Some manner of serving utensil, I suspect." Nigel the Broke “How the hell am I to know that?” Ulric the Meaty "A rude name for a loose woman." Project Proposal 2025-032 – hide block PROJECT PROPOSAL 2025-032 "Wizard Exploder" Title: Wizard Exploder Material Requirements: Chalk Paint Octarine Glitter Birdcage Pigeon Abstract: Using the caged bird as bait, I will draw stray wizards near the ███████ train station into a rune circle of my own design, painted on the ground using the paint and glitter. The first wizard to enter the circle and become preoccupied with eating the pigeon will be detonated into a brilliant display of colors and other wizardly remnants. Intent: We live in a truly magical time. Numerous and vaguely stupid magicians have popped up on every street corner, and in many cases, have replaced our beloved pets. People from across the world have come together in an amazing display of violence and firepower, but the exploration of the destruction of the wizards has been limited to guns alone. I seek to provide the masses with a new way of enjoying our mutual bloodthirst together in a manner not dissimilar to fireworks. Transit ticket purchased by SCP-8320-A. Used to travel to ████████ Amtrack station, shortly before a small explosion nearby injured two bystanders. Addendum 2 – The Sourcery Initiative Upon learning that SCP-8320 could be completely and harmlessly reversed, the Foundation immediately began assembling teams across the globe to sweep for and neutralize SCP-8320-1 instances. Any available mobile task force personnel, along with personnel from other branches proficient in firearms, were re-assigned to temporary Mobile Task Force Sigma-32 “Propagandalf.” The Foundation paused all other operations that were not strictly functional and absolutely necessary. Embedded Foundation agents in governments around the world propagated ideas regarding the danger of civilians dressing similarly to SCP-8320-1 instances during this time. Both the Global Occult Coalition and the Unusual Incidents Unit agreed to a temporary alliance until SCP-8320 could be neutralized. Each designated an officer for the purpose of communication between organizations. NOTE: The following is a transcript of a video call between Dr. Weatherwax of the Foundation, Agent Nitt of the Global Occult Coalition, and Dr. Ogg of the Unusual Incidents Unit. [BEGIN LOG] [Only Dr. Weatherwax and Dr. Ogg are present on the call.] Dr. Ogg: I have something here about some posters found near the home of the dimwit that started all this, I think we should take a look at- Dr. Weatherwax: I suppose we should get started without her, then, shouldn’t we? Dr. Ogg: I suppose we should- [Agent Nitt joins the video call. She is eating a cup of instant noodles and flipping through a day planner with her other hand.] Agent Nitt: My apologies, I’m here! Big day, huh? Dr. Weatherwax: Is this a bad time? Agent Nitt: No! No. Downed powerline across the street, had to talk to some guys about it. Carry on, I’m just getting myself in order. Ignore me. So! Wizards. Dr. Weatherwax: We’re thanking our lucky stars that they’re not doing much besides shooting lightning bolts at each other. Agent Nitt: Bet you’re glad to have our methods at your disposal now, aren’t you? Dr. Weatherwax: No- [Dr. Weatherwax sneezes] Agent Nitt: Allergic to lying? Perhaps bee stings as well? Dr. Weatherwax: No, I’m allergic to cats. Dr. Ogg: Well, that doesn’t exactly track. Dr. Weatherwax: The wizards must have worse dander, I think. Dr. Ogg: I have a report here estimating the number of stray and outdoor cats here in the United States- [Dr. Ogg drops a large binder full of papers onto the floor.] Dr. Ogg: Oh, shit- Dr. Weatherwax: Just leave it, Dr. Ogg, we know there are too many outdoor cats. Agent Nitt: And now there are too many outdoor wizards. Dr. Ogg: And too many indoor ones as well, for that matter. Dr. Weatherwax: But as luck would have it, they’re very easy to locate, and even easier to neutralize. Dr. Ogg: And guns are really all it takes? No anti-magic countermeasures? Dr. Weatherwax: We tried knives as well, but it only works if you get them in the head, which is notoriously harder to stab than anywhere else. Agent Nitt: What about explosives? Have you tried exploding them? Dr. Weatherwax: We have not tried exploding them. [Dr. Weatherwax sneezes.] Dr. Weatherwax: Ugh. Excuse me. We have business. Agent Nitt: The business of calculating how many wizards we can blast in the shortest amount of time? Dr. Weatherwax: Exactly. [Dr. Weatherwax sneezes again. Dr. Ogg hits his head on the underside of his desk as he sits up.] [END LOG] ONE NIGHT ONLY! Close World's Worst Wizard Sick of magical wizards? This one can't do any spells! Eats whole birds! He's even bad at card tricks! Is he really a wizard? Or is he just a guy with a taste for danger and a bummer attitude? Next Week: Wizard Trickshots! As many of 'em as we can get our sticky little hands on! Week After Next: A Literate Orangutan and a Suitcase That Eats People! NOTE: The following is a transcript of drone camera footage taken from MTF S-32 Unit 67D, located in Alma, Michigan. Agents "King Gizz" and "Merlin" are working task force agents, "Gandalf," "Oz," and "White Witch" are other personnel. Their assignment is in a derelict former industrial area, known to be home to a colony of at least 30 feral cats. [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT] 18:32 [Unit 67D rests inside an abandoned structure after roughly 3 hours on duty.] 18:35 [Unit Captain King Gizz speaks to the group. White Witch exits to relieve herself. Gandalf is visibly anxious.] 18:38 [King Gizz scolds Merlin, gesturing broadly. Oz removes two knives and one service pistol from her vest, attempting to disassemble. King Gizz scolds her as well and reassembles the pistol before returning it to her. Merlin laughs.] 18:40 [Gandalf repeatedly walks to the windows and checks either direction. Oz flattens her hand on the ground, tapping the tip of her knife into the gap between her fingers. King Gizz confiscates her knife.] 18:41 [White Witch returns. King Gizz gathers the squad into a circle, gesturing with two fingers in various directions. Merlin nods. Gandalf and White Witch look confused. Oz nods more enthusiastically.] 18:43 [Gandalf alerts King Gizz of something off-camera. Drone moves to reveal a civilian climbing in through a broken window. He is armed with a pistol.] 18:45 [As King Gizz and the civilian converse, two additional civilians enter after the first.] 18:50 [The first civilian, identified later as ████████ Cohen, negotiates with King Gizz, pointing toward the broken window where he entered.] 18:54 [King Gizz shrugs and turns to his unit, relaying additional plans. Oz trades her pistol for Gandalf's shotgun and racks it with one hand. Merlin confiscates the shotgun and hands Oz a smaller pistol. White Witch exits to relieve herself a second time.] [END TRANSCRIPT] CONCLUDING NOTES: ████████ Cohen and 9 other local residents of Alma were found to have also discovered the means of turning SCP-8320-1 instances back into cats and were leading their own excursions to neutralize the instances. Cohen and the accompanying civilians refused to leave the area, lauding a large number of successful neutralizations, but eventually agreed to defer to King Gizz's leadership. All were led to believe that Unit 67D were United States federal agents. Local law enforcement in the area advised to discourage the formation of similar militias. Several weeks into the Sourcery Initiative’s efforts to eliminate the SCP-8320-1 population, the Foundation received the following message from Wilson's Wildlife Solutions. Hey there! We're sure you've been just as busy as we have with current events. We've been up to our eyeballs, what with this whole affair being basically an animal control crisis! Given we try our best to solve our problems with as little violence as possible, we have been returning our surprise guests back to their furry forms as quickly and humanely as we can. We've even managed to establish a new catch-and-release program for vaccinating and sterilizing our local feral cat populations, with great success! But the longer this goes on, the more anxious we're getting about our feathered friends in addition to our furry ones. It's clear to us now that the wizards are doing enormous damage to local songbird populations worldwide. Even compared to their true feline forms, their appetites are truly insatiable. We would like to discuss some resources we might share between our organizations to expedite getting things back to "normal." After all, you have much more firepower, but we have an extra level of expertise in herding cats. - F. W. NOTE: The following transcript is taken from a video call between Dr. Weatherwax, Dr. Ogg, and Agent Nitt. [BEGIN LOG] [Dr. Ogg is rifling through a stack of papers.] Dr. Ogg: -and the problem was that no one at the bus station could tell if he really was a wizard, or if he was just a fellow in a costume. No reports of any anomalous abilities, but people still pulled guns, which is why we should really be talking to more public-facing people about shutting down the comic conventions. Dr. Weatherwax: Oh, shit, you’re right. [Agent Nitt joins the call. She is disheveled and bleeding from a scratch across one cheek.] Dr. Weatherwax: Good lord. Is this a bad time? Dr. Ogg: What happened to you? Agent Nitt: I’m fine. My daughter brought a squirrel into the house, took forever for us to get the thing back out. Shame the wizards aren’t eating rodents, too. Ignore me. I’m going to schedule a rabies shot, though. In case you hear me typing. Dr. Weatherwax: Glad to hear that you’re alright- [Dr. Weatherwax sneezes] Agent Nitt: Wow. Still? Dr. Weatherwax: I’ve been dealing with a lot of them lately. Dr. Ogg: It’s come to our attention that we have other players involved in this game. Dr. Weatherwax: Faeowynn Wilson sent us a message. Agent Nitt: You got a message? The Library just mailed us another pipe bomb. Dr. Weatherwax: We need to entertain the possibility of taking any allies we can get. Including the Library. And including civilians. Dr. Ogg: You’re not suggesting we collaborate with the Hand. I don’t think they would- [Dr. Ogg reaches for something on his desk, knocking over a glass of water in the process.] Dr. Ogg: Oh, god dammit. Dr. Weatherwax: I don’t mean collaborate. I mean truce. It's Christmas in 1914 and we're all going to stop shooting. Dr. Ogg: At each other. Dr. Weatherwax: Of course we're going to keep shooting the wizards, yes. We should, for the moment, turn a blind eye to the activities of certain other groups. Maybe even lend a hand to the more reasonable ones, if they’re doing anything to help us stop a global avian extinction event. Agent Nitt: Gosh. It’s that bad? Dr. Weatherwax: They eat a horrifying amount of birds, Nitt. But on the bright side, the United States has one of the largest populations of cats. Dr. Ogg: And the largest population of gun owners looking for an excuse. Dr. Weatherwax: Bingo. [END LOG] Item recovered from GOI Alpha-19 temporary outpost – hide block Shipping vessel upon which SCP-8320-A stowed away to Mexico. I've been carrying around a silly little pistol with me. Sure, all this chaos makes for great cover. We haven't had a mess with the Jailors in weeks. They're letting us go on our merry way, as long as they see us plug a wizard every so often. Not like it's possible to go anywhere without plugging a wizard. Damn bastards are everywhere. And downright impossible to have a real conversation with. Except for one that I found in ████████. He looked just like the rest of them, I almost shot him. The crew of the ship was shooting at him too, so I think he wasn't supposed to be aboard to begin with. But he talked just like anybody, almost. Still a bit weird. I tried to get him through a Way, thinking maybe I could have more of a talk with him somewhere safer, but the second he touched it, there was this loud POP and he just disappeared. I have never seen someone so bad at magic that they can make a Way malfunction. I don't know where he went, but I'm sure somebody's got him by now. Couldn't have gotten far, what with the whole world out looking. K. Addendum 3 - Environmental Impacts Instances of SCP-8320-1 appear to subsist on a diet of conjured food and small birds. In the weeks since the beginning of SCP-8320, environmental agencies, activist groups, and governments worldwide have raised concerns over the impact on local bird populations. Because of the immediacy of the risk, the Foundation and associated organizations have agreed to allow any interested party to partake in the elimination of SCP-8320, including other anomalous groups of interest. Weatherwax Fantastic news! The Artists finally succeeded in blowing up a wizard. oh they're probably not the first to do that but good to hear Weatherwax No, I don't think you understand. ? Weatherwax It didn't turn into a cat. It turned into a bunch of passenger pigeons. passenger pigeons are extinct Weatherwax Not anymore, they're not. Nitt hey sorry I'm tardy to the party everyone, I got hit by a car I'm alright though thanks for the update about hte pigeons After gathering reports of detonated SCP-8320-1 instances rematerializing as multiple birds instead of one cat, the Foundation ran several tests in sites around the world. A sample is listed below. Location Total No. of Animals Species Utah, United States 50 Juniper Titmouse, Greater Sage-Grouse, Rednaped Sap-Sucker, Grasshopper Sparrow Maine, United States 50 Cape May Warbler, Atlantic Puffin, Blue Jay, Downy Woodpecker Guangdong, China 50 Lesser Cuckoo, Brown Crake, Yellowbreasted Bunting, Swinhoe’s Minivet Foundation research has found that each SCP-8320-1 instance, upon being destroyed using an explosive, transforms into exactly 50 assorted birds weighing 10 to 500 grams. The quantity of any given species is seemingly random, but the variety present correlate to native species within a roughly 30 kilometer radius of the instance. It is also noted that this method of neutralization can result in the creation of specimens of recently-extinct bird species.5 NOTE: The following is a transcript from a video call between Dr. Weatherwax, Dr. Ogg, and Agent Nitt. [BEGIN LOG] [Dr. Weatherwax sneezes] Dr. Ogg: Bless you. As I was saying- Dr. Weatherwax: It’s finally getting better. I can tell we’re toward the end. Dr. Ogg: Finally. This has been the longest four months of my life. [Agent Nitt joins the call] Agent Nitt: Sorry. Dr. Weatherwax: What is it this time? Agent Nitt: I forgot this was today. Dr. Ogg: Anyone have updates on the wizard black market? Dr. Weatherwax: I hear Dark is getting awfully invested in it. Been trading them all over. Lots of countries jumping on the chance to repopulate their native birds. Very lucrative. Agent Nitt: Terrible idea. Only a matter of time before one of them shoots a fireball through the wall of an airplane. Dr. Ogg: One of them already shot a fireball through the wall of an Anderson joint. I guess it didn't like being in the bubbling cauldron. Dr. Weatherwax: We can be happy they’re gullible. After all, look at New Zealand. It worked out for them. Dr. Ogg: What about New Zealand? Dr. Weatherwax: Solved their cat overpopulation problem and their bird under-population problem in one go. Set up a “grand wizard tournament” on top of a vacant lot full of a healthy amount of buried plastic explosives. They didn’t even lose any of the animals. We’re looking into it. Some of our researchers are a little worried about the hypothetical implications of explosion-proof songbirds. Agent Nitt: A “grand wizard tournament?” Dr. Weatherwax: They- [Dr. Weatherwax sneezes.] Dr. Ogg: Bless you. Dr. Weatherwax: It’s the only way they could get so many of them in one place without starting a fight. An uncontrolled fight, anyway. Told them they were going to compete to see who was the best wizard. Agent Nitt: What’s left? Are you going to disband your task force? Dr. Weatherwax: They’re already disbanded, mostly. Just a few squads taking care of the stragglers out in the rural areas. Dr. Ogg: I thank God they’re so easy to find. You don’t even have to look to find those towers. Dr. Weatherwax: Between us, the cat lovers, the gun lovers, and the avian conservationists, my guess is we’ll be done with all this by the end of the month. Agent Nitt: And then we can focus on how to convince the whole world it didn’t happen. Dr. Ogg: Oh, I don’t think we’ll need to try that hard. My niece is in college and when I asked her what she thought, she said it didn’t lower her rent or pay her loans, so she doesn’t care. Dr. Weatherwax: Our disinformation department is observing that most US citizens are talking about why it happened much less than they’re talking about the NRA v NRFA case. Agent Nitt: The what? Dr. Weatherwax: The National Rifle Association and the National Renaissance Fair Alliance. Agent Nitt: Ah. Dr. Ogg: Did either of you see the reports about the cargo ship that found one of them stowed away? Traveled all the way across the country, hopped on a boat? Vanished from the port without a trace? Dr. Weatherwax: No? Dr. Ogg: You don’t think that’s strange behavior from one of them? Requires more forethought than we usually see? Agent Nitt: Maybe. Dr. Weatherwax: Whatever happened, it’s probably gone by now. Dr. Ogg: You’re right. It’s probably gone by now. [END LOG] Birdwatcher Sighting Close NOTE: The following transcript is taken from the body camera footage of Agent ████ Coin, of MTF Lambda-4 "Birdwatchers," who was on duty staking out a potential sighting of SCP-███ in rural Alaska. —— [BEGIN LOG] [Coin’s camera is level, pointed toward an abandoned farmhouse.] [A branch cracks behind her. She turns around and raises her rifle.] [Camera refocuses. Standing roughly 10 meters away from Coin is an SCP-8320-1 instance, wearing a red sequined pointed hat and a matching robe. It hides behind a tree.] SCP-8320-A: No no no no no, don’t shoot! [Coin moves closer.] SCP-8320-A: Please don’t shoot, I’ve been shot at so much already! [Coin lowers her rifle.] Coin: You look just like one of those wizards. SCP-8320-A: I- I am! I am one of those wizards but- [Coin raises her rifle.] [SCP-8320-A collapses face-down onto the ground, clasping its hands behind its head.] SCP-8320-A: Wait wait wait wait wait please! You can’t shoot me! I can’t be shot! Coin: Why’s that? SCP-8320-A: Because what if it hurts? [Coin lowers her rifle again. Neither speak for several seconds.] Coin: You don’t seem like one of them. SCP-8320-A: Well, I am. I’m a genuine bonafide wizard, I’ll tell you. Coin: Then how come you talk like that? SCP-8320-A: Talk like what? Coin: You know. Like a normal person. I’ve blasted my fair share of wizards and usually they just shout something about how my wand is the wrong shape. SCP-8320-A: Oh. Well. I don’t have a wand, so I wouldn’t know. Coin: You’re really one of them? You’re not just somebody in a costume? SCP-8320-A: Of course I am! I’m just as much a wizard as the rest of them! Watch! [SCP-8320-A rolls up the sleeves of its tunic and holds out its hands. It strains. Nothing happens.] Coin: If that was supposed to be magic- SCP-8320-A: I’m having an off day. Very long trip, you know. Hell of a boat. Not meant for people. Coin: It’s still awfully dangerous to be walking around in a costume like that. SCP-8320-A: It’s not a- [SCP-8320-A pauses and rubs its beard.] SCP-8320-A: Maybe I can’t do my own magic- right now- but you watch this. [SCP-8320-A removes its hat and steps several paces away from it. The hat disappears and reappears on its head.] SCP-8320-A: Ha ha! See? I told you! I told you! Coin: Ohh… SCP-8320-A: If I could have worn a disguise to keep myself from being shot at all the way around the country, I would have done it, wouldn’t I? Would have simplified things, that’s for sure. Coin: I’m a little amazed you made it this far. SCP-8320-A: Well, I might not be the best at magic, but I suppose I’m the best at staying alive. And at this point, I don’t think I want to be either, frankly. Coin: You said you came here on a boat. SCP-8320-A: I went somewhere on a boat. I've no idea how I ended up here, though. One minute I was on a dock, the next I was out here. Sure doesn't look like Mexico. Coin: Why travel around so much in the first place? SCP-8320-A: I’m looking for my friend. My best friend. The man with curly black hair and glasses. He’s very nice to me. Scratches under my chin and everything. I want to find him so we can go home. Coin: Where’s home? SCP-8320-A: The red house by the two maple trees. Coin: I’ll tell you what. I’ll call in, and we can go back to base. We’ll help you find your friend. SCP-8320-A: Really? You promise? Coin: Sure. But once we find him, we’re turning you back into a cat again. SCP-8320-A: By blasting me? Coin: It won’t hurt. SCP-8320-A: Then thank the gods. I’m tired of this. And I always liked fish more than birds. [END LOG] Footnotes 1. Taken from PoI-8320’s notes. 2. Domestic cat or house cat 3. Neutralization methods have since been discovered. 4. No such demon exists 5. The oldest example having gone extinct in 1891. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8320" by Raddagher, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8320. 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: lostposter.png Author: Raddagher License: Creative Commons 3.0 Filename: Wizard and his Wishing Well on Bourbon Street, New Orleans, Louisiana LCCN2011632742.tif Name: wizard.jpg Author: Carol M. Highsmith License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wizard_and_his_Wishing_Well_on_Bourbon_Street,_New_Orleans,_Louisiana_LCCN2011632742.tif Filename: DART Transit Pass.png Author: Jack No1 License: Creative Commons 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:DART_Transit_Pass.png Filename: 8320prime.png Author: *Raddagher License: Creative Commons 3.0 Filename: Bold Eagle container ship.jpg Author: Murgatroyd49 License: Creative Commons 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bold_Eagle_container_ship.jpg Filename: Log1.mp3 Author: Raddagher License: Creative Commons 3.0 Filename: Log2.mp3 Author: Raddagher License: Creative Commons 3.0 Filename: Log3.mp3 Author: Raddagher License: Creative Commons 3.0 Filename: Log 4.mp3 Author: Raddagher License: Creative Commons 3.0 Filename: Final Log.mp3 Author: Raddagher License: Creative Commons 3.0 |
SCP-8327 | safe | TboneBerryhill Image of SCP-8327 underground lagoon, taken by Dr. Mark Kegans Item #: SCP-8327 Special Containment Procedures: Two MTF Alpha-1 ("Cave Divers'') are to be stationed inside the cave housing SCP-8327 on rotation of every three hours, with the remaining MTF on patrol outside SCP-8327 cave opening, sensors are to be placed at the perimeter of SCP-8327 containment area on land half a mile diameter from the entrance of the cave and underwater long the coastal area near the collapsed sea entrance. Visual confirmation of SCP-8327 is to be checked every two hours before a rotation of guards can occur; underwater cameras have proven an ineffective means of surveillance. Site-16 will not supply anymore drones, due to the cost of lost and damaged equipment. Update: As of the incident that occurred on 2/19/20██ at Site-16-1 all samples of SCP-8327 will need to be approved by Site-16 before taken. Description: SCP-8327 is a humanoid entity bearing traits consistent with the descriptions of merfolk from mythological records, as confirmed by Dr. James Kegans and Dr. Auther Baker. It measures approximately 1.8 meters in length and weighs an estimated 55 kilograms. Its physiology is predominantly humanoid from the waist up, with webbed appendages and gills on both sides of its neck. SCP-8327 possesses pale skin with the lower half resembling that of marine life, displaying a pink hue and ending in a caudal fin. Notably, SCP-8327 appears to exhibit signs of malnutrition or undernourishment, likely endured over an extended period. SCP-8327 is located in a cave off the coast of Texas, 20 miles from the nearest coastal city and 2.5 miles from the nearest public road, in a remote uninhabited area. SCP-8327 resides in a large domed cave, filled with stalactites and several large stalagmites scattered around the cave both in the water and near a dry upper area. There are no entrances to the cave, except for a hole measuring 7 meters across, at the crown of the cave. The height of the domed ceiling reaches 120 ft high from the surface of the water, while the water is 200 ft at its deepest area in the central chamber and averages 5 ft at its most shallow areas, near the south east side accompanied by dry ground. A large rock protrudes near the center of the cave directly under the entrance, surrounded by water. Discovery Information: SCP-8327 was discovered by local divers mapping the coastal region. While surveying the coast they discovered the submerged and collapsed entrance to SCP-8327 cave. Later when revisiting the area the explorers discovered the entrance to the cave 13 meters north of the underwater entrance. The group recorded their descent into the cave, once inside the group soon realized they were not alone. Footage shows SCP-8327 lurking around the surface of the water. The group quickly decided to leave and reported the incident to the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department, the Foundation was alerted and quickly took over, setting up Site-16-1. Note: The land and area surrounding SCP-8327 stretching a mile radius was owned and maintained by a small international company, Endlings Int © ™ since 1992. The Foundation reached out to acquire the land through a front company at asking price, but was unable to come to an agreement. The Foundation turned to the US government to use eminent domain to acquire the land. Nothing has been heard from the company about the land since the Foundation acquired it. Samples of SCP-8327 cave water taken in for testing showed that the caves water is distinctly different from the surrounding sea water. Core samples show that the mineral composition of the cave and surrounding rock contain unknown combinations of elements creating the unique water in the cave. It is suspected that SCP-8327 species biology has adapted to the cave over centuries evolving, along with certain plants have evolved differently than the outside marine flora. Near the southern side of the cave inside resides a collapsed entrance, sealing the cave from the sea, matching the outside under the sea. The cave entrance is suspected to have collapsed round 40,000 years ago sealing the cave off from the ocean. Exploration Log: SCP-8327 was tranquilized and brought to the shallow area, near the shore to be monitored in a tank filled with SCP-8327 caves water, while MTF Alpha-1 ("Cave Divers") ventured into the caves upper underwater section. The team commenced mapping the cave using lidar technology in an attempt to penetrate through the rock. However, the scans proved inconclusive due to the thickness of the surrounding rock. Upon entering the water, the divers circled the primary cave, mapping and recording the main underwater area. The initial section revealed a sprawling expanse filled with schools of fish, which they mapped as they progressed. Subsequently, they descended further into the cave, exploring its various other sections, eventually reaching a deeper opening. In the first expansive chamber once leaving the primary cave, they encountered a large cave filled with a plethora of long seaweed-like plants that lined the walls of the chamber and a diverse array of fish, many utilizing bioluminescence. This chamber boasted two additional chambers branching off, flanking the cave's sides. To the left, another chamber unfolded, revealing a vast space covered in a soft, squishy moss. Along the walls, there were indentations measuring 6 meters deep and 4 meters wide, approximately 30 in total. Dr. Pearl, the lead researcher for SCP-8327 believes this area served as a sleeping area for SCP-8327 pod.1 Once this area had been completely explored the team moved on to the last section. Beneath, they discovered a narrow medium-sized passageway opposite of the sleeping chamber extending for 10 meters before abruptly dropping 90 degrees into a dark abyss. Two MTF were sent in one at a time with lights. After swimming down they discovered the floor housing an eerie assembly of bones and skeletons resembling SCP-8327, researchers believe this is a makeshift graveyard for the dead. Several bone fragments were taken at different levels of the pile. The diving team returned to the surface, the fragments were analyzed the oldest bone fragments currently tested date back to 42,069 years old while the youngest dating bones were dated to 21 years old. Interviewed: SCP-8327 Interviewer: Dr. Pearl Foreword: Interview with SCP-8327, [Subject's speech invariably pauses every few words] <Begin Log, am> (Dr. Pearl arrives in the cavern and calls for SCP-8327at the waters edge, SCP-8327 approaches and stops wading in the water in front of Dr. Pearl) Dr. Pearl: Hello SCP-8327, good afternoon, how is the water today? SCP-8327: Hello… the water is fine … Dr. Pearl: I wanted to ask you some questions. Would you mind answering? SCP-8327: Ok…. Dr. Pearl: Lets begin with where you come from? SCP-8327: I come from here (SCP-8327looks around at the cave) Dr. Pearl: You originated from this cave? SCP-8327: I did… this is my home… Dr. Pearl: Are you the only one here? SCP-8327: Yes… For a while… Once there were many… Now only me. Dr. Pearl: What happened to the others like you? SCP-8327: Hunger… This cave… Only provides so much [SCP-8327took a long pause, turning its head to look at the cave before turning to Dr. Pearl] SCP-8327: I’m the only one left… the last to go was my mother… she's with the others… Dr. Pearl: Oh I'm sorry to hear, it must be tough being alone here. [SCP-8327 nods at Dr. Pearl] Dr. Pearl: Do you know what the sea is? SCP-8327: My mother… she spoke the tales of the ocean… passed down… when our people resided there… the food plentiful and we were free… but that was long ago. Dr. Pearl: Do you know of any way out of this cave? SCP-8327: (Thinking for a moment) The elders before they passed… told of a way outside… but connected to the sea no more… after the world shook. Dr. Pearl: What is your primary food? SCP-8327: Hardly anything to hunt in here… everyone farmed fish or collected…. small animals but mostly the kelp… and the sky worms when in abundance … father taught me to spear. He was taught by his father … and so on … he went away before mother. Dr. Pearl: Can you sing? It's thought that your people can sing. SCP-8327: Yes all could sing … (ethereal song begins for a moment then stops) Dr. Pearl Thank you SCP-8327, I think that will conclude todays interview. <End Log, pm> Closing Statement: SCP-8327 exhibits a limited vocabulary most likely due to being in isolation for a long period of time since the death of its parents and pod, along with a lack of social skills leading to increased anxious behavior and pauses in speech. + Show Incident 1 Summary Incident 1 Summary: On 2/19/20██ the second day of a three day tropical storm approaching from the Caribbean, at 10:30 pm Site-16-1 lost contact with Foundation Site-16 for a period of 6 minutes, before being reestablished. At 10:45 pm MTF permitted guards report hearing what was believed to be a helicopter pass overhead during the storm, no visual confirmation or sensors were tripped during this time. At 10:52 pm MTF patrolling encountered two unknown agents in tactical gear near the perimeter. Both men were quickly surrounded and subdued, taken into Foundation custody. Site-16-1 contacted Site-16 to report the incident and requested pickup of the two men to be transferred to Site-16 for investigation. Foundation Site-16 responded and confirmed, with orders to hold the area until Foundation agents arrive for pickup and to collect samples of SCP-8327 Site-16 will add additional MTF to the Containment site, for future security, shortly after. The next day at 2:34 am help from Site-16 arrived, by van, to the SCP-8327 containment site perimeter ahead of their expected arrival time. Two researchers and four MTF arrived, each badge scanned and cleared. The two scientists were accompanied to SCP-8327 while the MTF were brought to the prisoners where they were escorted to the van. At 2:45 am they arrived at the entrance to SCP-8327 and lowered down into the cave. SCP-8327 was called to the surface and was tranquilized and brought over to the shallow shore inside the cave. Samples of SCP-8327 skin, blood and other fluids were extracted before being pushed and released back. At 3:05 am the van left the perimeter of Site-16-1, with both men in their custody. Shortly following the Site-16-1 communication system experienced another glitch then static, followed by communications sent from Site-16 reporting that Site-16-1 had not reported in for the last five hours and that MTF Beta-3 ("Far Reach") had been sent to assess what had happened to the site-16-1. Site-16-1 staff were left confused until the Foundation arrived, procedures dictate that the Site is to stop all testing and remain in lockdown until further instructions. 30 minutes later MTF Beta-3 ("Far Reach") arrived and secured the Site-16-1 and SCP-8327. Interviewed: Dr. Pearl Interviewer: Dr. Randy Berryhill Foreword: After incident interview with lead researcher Dr. Pearl <Begin Log, [7am]> Dr. Randy: Can you please state your name for the Record. Dr. Pearl: My name is Dr. Pearl. Dr. Randy: Thank you, now can you help me understand exactly what occurred earlier tonight. Dr. Pearl: Again with this, we already told you what happened its all documented in our reports and logs. Dr. Randy: Yes, raging storms, communications glitching, multiple perimeter breaches, unauthorized access to the anomaly, samples stolen… All documented, this doesn’t look good from any angle. Dr. Pearl: Whoever it was they knew what they were doing, said and did all the right things. All their badges checked out at the gate when they scanned in. Dr. Randy: Well actually all their badge numbers were real, except for the fact that they belonged to Foundation researchers and MTF agents that were deceased, their badges were reactivated last week. Dr. Pearl: Wait, how was this not flagged! Dr. Randy: Well, there aren’t any automated programs in place that are triggered when this happens, but I'll tell you this, there sure as hell will be now. Dr. Pearl: What about the communication equipment malfunctioning, Site-16-1 reported in on time to during that time to Site-16 with confirmation. Dr. Randy: That's the funny thing, Site-16 hadn't heard back from the containment site until 3:12 am, most likely there was someone else nearby hacking into the communication network, pretending to be Site-16. Dr. Pearl: Are you fucking kidding me!? Dr. Randy: Nope well, thank you for your time. The Foundation will be back in contact with you soon regarding going further with SCP-8327. Dr. Pearl: Wait what, you can’t be serious! we need to know who did this and why! Dr. Randy: I can assure you we know exactly who did this, as for why? That is yet to be determined, like I said before. Have a good day, Dr. Pearl. <End Log, am> Closing Statement: Additional security will be required for this anomaly to ensure another incident like this does not occur, likewise future anomalies like this one will require new security protocols. Dr. Pearl will continue working on SCP-8327 under probation until further notice. MAIL - MESSAGE ONE FROM: Site Director, Dr. Richardson2 TO: Dr. Judy Baker TOPIC: Site-16-1 Incident Good morning, Dr. Baker I regret to inform you that there has been another raid carried out by the group now being colloquially known as S.T.R.A.D. behind closed doors in the early hours of Sunday morning. The temporary site has been reestablished and the area secured along with the asset. Your son Randy has sent the investigative report to me to review before handing it off to the 05 council for review on further actions to be taken place, regarding this ongoing issue. This message is being sent as a courtesy to you for the previous events taken place with this group along with your decades of tireless work for the Foundation. Sincerely, Dr. Richardson MAIL - MESSAGE TWO FROM: Dr. Judy Baker TO: Site Director, Dr. Richardson TOPIC: Site-16-1 Incident Dear Site Director Richardson, I would like to remind you director Richardson of the previous two events and the effect on my family this has had. This is the first documented attack on a Foundation site, the next one will have far greater consequences. Sincerely, Dr. Judy Baker Footnotes 1. A collective term used to refer to a group of SCP-8327 entities. 2. Site-16 Director ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8327" by TboneBerryhill, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8327. 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: Cuevas del Drach.jpg Author: Cuevas del Drach License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons |
SCP-8329 | keter | Item #: SCP-8329 Special Containment Procedures: Cameras must be installed in all convenience stores in the United States to observe possible SCP-8329 manifestations. Significant financial losses suffered by affected establishments should be justified as a series of frequent robberies in the region. Description: SCP-8329 is a probabilistic anomaly that manifests in convenience store attendants in the United States. SCP-8329 has three main effects: • The first effect causes the attendant, now designated SCP-8329-1, to become extremely sweaty and give change in absurdly large amounts, often handing over up to ten times the correct amount. SCP-8329-1 does not notice the error, regardless of their experience or attention. • The second effect causes the customer, now designated SCP-8329-2, to realize the change is incorrect and still accept the wrong amount, regardless of religion, mental condition, or any other factor that would normally prevent them from taking such action. • The third effect causes SCP-8329-2 to be fatally injured shortly after the theft, upon leaving the store. The causes of the accidents are usually hit-and-runs or heart attacks. After the effects of SCP-8329 cease, SCP-8329-1 will revert to being the attendant after a sudden fainting spell. Addendum 1: TESTS LOG Test 8329.1 On 21/09/2023, a camera installed at ███████ ████, ████, Oregon, USA, identified SCP-8329-1 sweating abnormally. Agent Ravenshire was then dispatched to the establishment to infiltrate as a civilian with the objective of informing the affected attendant that the change was incorrect. Procedure: Agent Ravenshire entered the establishment, placed some items in a shopping cart, and proceeded to the checkout. SCP-8329-1 was giving approximately 8 times the expected change to the customer. Ravenshire attempted to inform SCP-8329-1 that the change was incorrect. Result: Upon being informed by Ravenshire, SCP-8329-1 showed no recognition of the error, insisting that the change was correct. Ravenshire tried several approaches, including showing the correct amount on the cash register screen and calmly explaining the error. SCP-8329-1 exhibited aggressive behavior, even insulting Ravenshire. Upon hearing the insults, Ravenshire began to feel inferior and depressed, even though the insults were not particularly severe. Ravenshire's emotional state deteriorated drastically, rendering him unable to express himself or speak. Ravenshire was unable to proceed. Conclusion: Agent Ravenshire was unsuccessful in preventing SCP-8329-1 due to his emotional state. Ravenshire is still recovering. Test 8329.2 Below is a list of some attempts to prevent accidents caused by SCP-8329 made by the by the team specialized in personal protection 8329-Alpha. For the complete list, consult the current head of research. Situation Result The accelerator of a truck passing on the highway in front of the establishment breaks, and the truck veers off the road towards SCP-8329-2, who was exiting the establishment. 8329-Beta attempts to prevent the collision. 8329-Alpha successfully prevents the accident by pushing SCP-8329-2 out of the truck’s path. SCP-8329-2 tries to express gratitude but ends up choking and consequently dying. Situation Result SCP-8329-2 exits the establishment and gets into their car. Before entering the car, SCP-8329-2 throws their cigarette, which lands near a fuel tank at a nearby gas station. The tank explodes, causing a fire. 8329-Alpha extinguishes the fire with a fire extinguisher from the gas station, saving SCP-8329-2. However, minutes after being saved, SCP-8329-2 suffers a heart attack due to the stress and dies. Situation Result SCP-8329-2 trips over wires at the exit of the establishment. SCP-8329-2 falls and suffers a cranial trauma. SCP-8329-2 is quickly assisted by 8329-Alpha, who intends to take them to the nearest hospital. On the way, a deer suddenly appears in front of the vehicle, which is hit, causing a fatal accident for SCP-8329-2. Members of 8329-Alpha only sustain injuries. All attempts to prevent the accidents ended in failure, with SCP-8329-2 always dying. END OF TESTS LOG Addendum 2: The following is a slightly torn paper found on 2024/02/26 on the desk of the current head researcher, Dr. Brookfield. Author currently unknown. You think you can contain me? That you can understand what I am? You are playing with fire and don’t even know it. Every change error, every accident, is just [illegible due to a tear]. Keep trying, keep failing. You cannot see me, but I see all of you. And every attempt to stop me only makes me stronger. You think you can save lives? That you can prevent the accidents? Good luck with that. I am the chaos in your transactions, the misfortune in your steps. And while you try to study me, I continue to toy with your lives. The change is and always will be wrong. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8329" by Luiz Henrique 123, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8329. 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. Autor: Luiz Henrique 123 |
SCP-8329 | uncontained | Item #: SCP-8329 Special Containment Procedures: Cameras must be installed in all convenience stores in the United States to observe possible SCP-8329 manifestations. Significant financial losses suffered by affected establishments should be justified as a series of frequent robberies in the region. Description: SCP-8329 is a probabilistic anomaly that manifests in convenience store attendants in the United States. SCP-8329 has three main effects: • The first effect causes the attendant, now designated SCP-8329-1, to become extremely sweaty and give change in absurdly large amounts, often handing over up to ten times the correct amount. SCP-8329-1 does not notice the error, regardless of their experience or attention. • The second effect causes the customer, now designated SCP-8329-2, to realize the change is incorrect and still accept the wrong amount, regardless of religion, mental condition, or any other factor that would normally prevent them from taking such action. • The third effect causes SCP-8329-2 to be fatally injured shortly after the theft, upon leaving the store. The causes of the accidents are usually hit-and-runs or heart attacks. After the effects of SCP-8329 cease, SCP-8329-1 will revert to being the attendant after a sudden fainting spell. Addendum 1: TESTS LOG Test 8329.1 On 21/09/2023, a camera installed at ███████ ████, ████, Oregon, USA, identified SCP-8329-1 sweating abnormally. Agent Ravenshire was then dispatched to the establishment to infiltrate as a civilian with the objective of informing the affected attendant that the change was incorrect. Procedure: Agent Ravenshire entered the establishment, placed some items in a shopping cart, and proceeded to the checkout. SCP-8329-1 was giving approximately 8 times the expected change to the customer. Ravenshire attempted to inform SCP-8329-1 that the change was incorrect. Result: Upon being informed by Ravenshire, SCP-8329-1 showed no recognition of the error, insisting that the change was correct. Ravenshire tried several approaches, including showing the correct amount on the cash register screen and calmly explaining the error. SCP-8329-1 exhibited aggressive behavior, even insulting Ravenshire. Upon hearing the insults, Ravenshire began to feel inferior and depressed, even though the insults were not particularly severe. Ravenshire's emotional state deteriorated drastically, rendering him unable to express himself or speak. Ravenshire was unable to proceed. Conclusion: Agent Ravenshire was unsuccessful in preventing SCP-8329-1 due to his emotional state. Ravenshire is still recovering. Test 8329.2 Below is a list of some attempts to prevent accidents caused by SCP-8329 made by the by the team specialized in personal protection 8329-Alpha. For the complete list, consult the current head of research. Situation Result The accelerator of a truck passing on the highway in front of the establishment breaks, and the truck veers off the road towards SCP-8329-2, who was exiting the establishment. 8329-Beta attempts to prevent the collision. 8329-Alpha successfully prevents the accident by pushing SCP-8329-2 out of the truck’s path. SCP-8329-2 tries to express gratitude but ends up choking and consequently dying. Situation Result SCP-8329-2 exits the establishment and gets into their car. Before entering the car, SCP-8329-2 throws their cigarette, which lands near a fuel tank at a nearby gas station. The tank explodes, causing a fire. 8329-Alpha extinguishes the fire with a fire extinguisher from the gas station, saving SCP-8329-2. However, minutes after being saved, SCP-8329-2 suffers a heart attack due to the stress and dies. Situation Result SCP-8329-2 trips over wires at the exit of the establishment. SCP-8329-2 falls and suffers a cranial trauma. SCP-8329-2 is quickly assisted by 8329-Alpha, who intends to take them to the nearest hospital. On the way, a deer suddenly appears in front of the vehicle, which is hit, causing a fatal accident for SCP-8329-2. Members of 8329-Alpha only sustain injuries. All attempts to prevent the accidents ended in failure, with SCP-8329-2 always dying. END OF TESTS LOG Addendum 2: The following is a slightly torn paper found on 2024/02/26 on the desk of the current head researcher, Dr. Brookfield. Author currently unknown. You think you can contain me? That you can understand what I am? You are playing with fire and don’t even know it. Every change error, every accident, is just [illegible due to a tear]. Keep trying, keep failing. You cannot see me, but I see all of you. And every attempt to stop me only makes me stronger. You think you can save lives? That you can prevent the accidents? Good luck with that. I am the chaos in your transactions, the misfortune in your steps. And while you try to study me, I continue to toy with your lives. The change is and always will be wrong. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8329" by Luiz Henrique 123, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8329. 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. Autor: Luiz Henrique 123 |
SCP-8330 | safe | CONFIDENTIAL Security Clearance Level 2 Dr. Coar Site-12; Sector 4 S E K T N Any_value Contact 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-8330 Item #: SCP-8330 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8330 is to be stored in the center of a containment cell for Safe-class anomalies measuring 4 m x 4 m x 6 m in Site-12. A bookstand must be present on the right side of SCP-8330, where an empty book may be placed during experiments. No other written mediums may be present in a five meter radius around the anomaly and all documentation must be digitally recorded. Personnel using SCP-8330 without approval by leading researcher Jones Coar are subject to disciplinary action. Description: SCP-8330 designates a 2 meter high door consisting of larch wood in an appropriate frame. The latter is entwined in two long thick ivy vines dark-green in color, which end in a heart-like shape at the top. These plants require neither nutrients nor care and protrude from SCP-8330. A bronze doorknob is available that has a dragon's head carved into it. Opening and stepping through SCP-8330 will transport the subject to a meta-plane, consisting of an arbitrarily selected fairytale of any nationality. If the subject thinks/desires a certain fairytale during usage, it will constitute their destination. Experiments revealed that two individuals can exist within the meta-plane at once. Subjects are able to change the course of events inside the fairytale as they please, and tests showed that blank books or those describing the fairytale entered will change depending on all alterations. Influenced books will retain those changes and all man-made alterations will disappear in around five seconds. The meta-plane suffers severe time dilation, and years can past within weeks. Once the fairytale has ended, SCP-8330 will re-appear and open in front of the subject, while everything around them will fade to black. When leaving, however, subjects can be "punished" by SCP-8330, provided their actions during the story were malicious. This occurs by the door knob heating up to 100° C, which can cause first degree burns at the affected area, and/or ivy vines growing thorns and grabbing the subject either by the neck or the wrist of the hand holding the door knob. Said thorns have been found to inject a toxin that increases pain perception and body temperature. Heat appears to have no impact on the vines. Punishments can vary in duration from five to twelve minutes, represented by the ivy heart at the top slowly decomposing. Addendum-8330-1/Experiments Close Fairytale Story Ending Little Red Riding Hood (Original Version) D-6483 waited in a closet in the grandmother's bedroom for the wolf to eat her. When Little Red Riding Hood inquired the wolf about their identity, the subject revealed the latter to the girl, causing the wolf to attack and be killed by D-6483 through a knife. In the end, the wolf's head hang above the ingel. Legend of the Princess from Guatavita Female D-6548 personnel fell in love with the warrior, which led to the princess to find no replacement for her husband and her live as a prostitute. Later on, the princess was murdered, but her heart served to a random citizen, D-6548 in this case. Her feast led to the warrior abandoning her in disgust. The Princess and the Pea D-4238 sneaked into the princess's dormitory and removed the pea from the floor. The following morning, the princess reported to the authorities about the theft she felt at night. D-4238 was executed publicly and the prince married the princess. Discovery: At the 12/06/2023, webcrawlers from Site-12 flagged a series of reports about inexplicable book changes as suspicious, and agents were dispatched to investigate the phenomenon. According to reports by locals, Joe Mourn, a criminal guilty of several felonies from theft to murder, escaped prison two weeks prior. The police followed him into the Dark Hedges, where he suddenly vanished. Using detection dogs and torn off cloth parts by Mr. Mourn, the agents ultimately discovered SCP-8330. After one of the agents opened the object, thereby revealing its anomalous properties, a containment team was sent out to secure it. All influenced books had to be burned, all reports blackened or deleted, and every civilian involved amnestitized. Addendum-8330-2/Book Contents Close Foreword: One book was confiscated for research purposes. It is heavily corrupted, with the sudden mentioning of a name rendering the text's original genre even more unclear. Contents are presented below. Footnotes were manually added. There once was a fair knight who had seen all the mountains and valleys in these lands. All the world adored his gracefulness and venerability. He wore gowns most magnificent and kept his heart pounding for all good folk. In spite of all this glory, he desired no prostitutes, for they solely yearned for natural urges. One day, mistletoe hang above him and her, a poor but well-behaved lady from far away, who adored her husband for his wits. And so, for the first time in his life, the velvet embracing them felt soft and not hard. A boy saw the light of day, yet a cloudy sky formed above the trio in the midst of the boy's sixteenth year. In disrespect towards his father whose glory was well-deserved after years of labor, the boy became indolent, even stealing from folks for lack of riches. The punches he got by his father he plainly ignored, for there has never been any love between them, only rivalry. All this spiritual blood led the boy down the forbidden path of abandonment, to where he is anywhere but home. And behind him, no one will ever wait for his return. The boy crossed mushroom-filled forests, mountains, and lakes, always in the company of nature whom he told his story. Birds spread word to the people, surfacing rumors and ridicule towards his former family, who withdrew from society as a result. Eventually, the boy stumbled upon a carriage drawn by two hacks and occupied by a man in black robes. Pulling out a dagger, the boy threatened the hooded figure with murder, provided he wouldn't get hold of his possessions. "Foolish boy" — the man replied — "you will starve before my hands will draw my sword." Defeated and humble, the boy's hand got lose of the dagger, followed by its holder collapsing in fatigue. He awoke inside a comfy bed next to a tray with food and water. His eating sounds must have drawn attention, as the man from earlier entered the room and sat down on a chair at the bed's end. "Who are you?", those were the first words the boy could think of. "I am Sir Fron Mourn, crown of the kingdom thou reside. The birds told me of thine demise and bravery wasted by a corrupted society. And seeing such a warrior collapsing in front of me, I could not resist to salvage thine potential." The boy felt slightly overwhelmed by the compliments his vis-à-vis mouthed, saying "If your a king, then where is your precious gown?" In a short laugh, Fron answered "Who are more worth? Those whose love dwindles in visible splendor or those who keep their fire burning inside for others to warm at?" These words made the boy ponder about his past decisions the whole day. And so, the first night passed by around his new shelter. After a night of evaluating, a decision was made by the boy. He will stay aside this mysterious man, for the latter saved him from near death. He was greeted by Fron at the breakfast table, who started the conversation with the words "Now, are you able to answer my question?" Without any hesitation, the boy replied "Yes, I shall follow thee", which painted a smile on Fron's face. "Then time must not be wasted. You may now refer to me as your father and teacher. I shall teach you the ways of war and wizardry, thereby empowering you to take revenge on all who did you harm." This laid the grounds for a dangerous development, which was destined to reach its peak after years of training with weapons, magic, and potion brewing. Having matured now, Karot1 — his new name bestowed unto him by his master — has become a respectful and quite feared black knight, who drew his power from his emotional turmoil still echoing between every ear. Kingdoms fell or their kings overthrown and replaced with his Sir Mourn's iron fist. The birds, awfully frightened, sang sad ballads about the wars waged, of never-before-seen black magic, and the heroes who lost their lives. These melancholic sounds were even heard at Karot's former home, but his father had no notion of his enemy's true identity and prepared for the upcoming war. At the balcony, the father watches the horizon becoming darker in color. Realizing the time has come, he ordered his troops to hold their weapons, mere bows and swords, at the stop. A bugle announced a huge shape to appear above the uprising troops, which turned out to be a dark-red dragon spouting huge beams of fire. As it flew over the kingdom, screams ultimately pierced the silence and blood of brave brothers dropped at the balcony from above. The father's panicked fleeing attempt was halted by a tall man in black armor splintering the pathetic wooden door. Both drew their swords and erupted into a fight not less meaningful than the one destroying their surroundings. No one could get the upper hand in this fight of two men on a par, but eventually Karot managed to kick his opponent between the crotch, forcing the father to kneel down. Accepting his defeat, the father was prepared to meet his maker and enter Heaven's paradise, but no final strike ever came. Instead, Karot put his sword back into its sheath and then removed his helmet. "Do you remember me?", he asked. "Perhaps not, but I remember you. You, whose methods of parenting were more akin to the lash than a reaching hand. Yes, its is me, Karot, your disenchanted son." The facial features of his father formed a face of fear and fury, but prominently displaced the utter disbelieve of its counterpart's identity. "No, he would never even dare to take lives. He was a foolish fellow, sure, but still one of humanity. You merely use him to corrupt my mind." This theory was disproved by the fist impacting his left cheek. "You constantly wanted me to be your reflection, immaculate and never-failing. As I now ponder your predictions, they might have come true. But fear not, I have no intentions in murdering you. No, only occupying your place at the throne, so I can rule over my new kingdom. Surrender now and prevent more blood from running without purpose!" His father ordered his men to lay down their weapons and surrender, whereafter he was taken to the dungeon and imprisoned. Since then, Karot and Sir. Mourn rule over all lands. Will there ever be a hero to avenge all deaths and bring peace to this plane? Afterword: There were three additional pages that, however, only featured sprinklers of a fluid consisting of ink and human blood. It is assumed that the effects of SCP-8330 still prevail because of the story missing an ending. Addendum-8330-3/Exploration Close Foreword: Following evaluation by the O5 Council and Ethics Committee, the condition SCP-8330 inhabits was deemed harmful and unpredictable, as entities could possibly escape its meta-plane. Agent Jackson2 was chosen to detain Fron Mourn for his crimes and contain the ongoing effects of SCP-8330. He was equipped with a silenced handgun, several magazines with cartridges, a combat knife, and puncture-proof clothing. The course of the mission was recorded via the same book. No sun dared to shine down onto the kingdom since then. Warriors once brave turned to slaves, women kind-hearted to prostitutes. And lashed were they, their backs a mere wrack with ugly stories to tell. Some were tempted, others bowed before their king, if such a creature even deserves such a title. Karot's father was bereft of his possessions and had to serve as his son's butler. Not to laugh became an unwritten rule in the deepest levels of hierarchy. And everyone marched an endless road of demise. Yet, all this safety made the ruler blind of hope, never even taking into consideration there might come the day of his fall. A man from a realm farther away than even the father's hand could reach sneaked into the kingdom and tried to convince the people to join him, but they just said his kind be no good here and he'd be but a reflection of the man who ruined their lives. With no one to assist him in his quest, the man had to face the dragon in its lair all by himself. Using his exotic dagger, he slew one follower after the other, while his wizardry was used to make the food go rot, all to weaken the kingdom. Quickly, hopeful rumors about an unknown savior began to spread, causing the people to ambush their tormentors more often. Sir Mourn, seeing the mess his kingdom gradually becomes, sent out his son to calm the intruder. After a long search through the barrack of a castle, Karot encountered a hooded figure and immediately drew his sword to attack. But the blade got blocked by the armor his opponent wielded. The latter used this moment of confusion to grab the sword and throw it out the glass window, shattering it in the process. A coat fell to the floor, revealing the enemy to be Jackson whose weird clothes Karot had never seen. A battle ensued between the two, which was fought with all sorts of magical knowledge both had at their disposal. In the end, Jackson vanished in a burst of smoke and ash after a fire spell by Karot, who returned to his master to inform him about his victory. But this was the place he rediscovered Jackson pointing an obscure machine at Sir Mourn, who begged Karot not to intervene. "I am going to put an end to your shenanigans and walk you off in chains", Jackson yelled. "Fuck off, why are you bothered by this world in the first place?" Karot was confused by the choice of words, but felt the tensions rising between the two. "Wether it is the real world or some fairtytale doesn't matter to me. I care about the shear sum of souls you torture here. And you", he continued his sentence while gazing at Karot, "were seduced by this monster of a man, who brought nothing but death and pestilence to your beloved kingdom. Lo, he even made you enslave your own father. Don't you feel any pity or remorse at all?" After all this time, Karot pondered his past decisions once more, visibly entwined in thoughts. "Bear no ear to this jester, for he solely intents to draw you away from your glory. What would your father think of you?" In the aftermath of a thought storm on Karot's part, the latter walked towards Jackson with a grim expression. Jackson, however, did not do any harm to Sir Mourn, instead just stood there as if paralyzed. Karot coiled his hands around Jackson's neck, about to strangle him in front of Sir Mourn's smile. As Jackson tried to free himself from this grasp, Sir Mourn laughed like never before, his mouth wide open. And then a foggy beam entered the mouth of Sir Mourn, quickly freezing his throat shut, which caused him to choke instead of Jackson. "I knew your crossed fingers would tell no lies", Jackson said in relief after Karot let go of his neck. "Ye, we shall now give the people the thing they always longed for." Both left the throne room, dragging Sir Mourn behind them, who they threw to the dogs for the folk to outlive their fantasies. A peaceful era arose and no one shall ever forget the hero that was Jackson, and the wisdoms learned throughout the journey. The End. Footnotes 1. Silent "t". 2. He was chosen due to his experiences in thaumaturgy and occultism. |
SCP-8332 | apollyon | There exist no tenable intervention strategies for SCP-8332. It was inevitable. Archival. Item-#: 8332 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8332-A and SCP-8332-B are deceased. This document exists primarily for archival purposes, and does not describe an anomaly that warrants, nor has ever warranted, active containment. There exist no tenable intervention strategies for SCP-8332. It was inevitable. Description: On 12-01-2024, 09:37:16 EST, Junior Researcher John Mahler (SCP-8332-A), aged 33, abruptly suffered total cardiac failure in combination with severe, spontaneous blunt force trauma throughout his body. Injuries sustained included: shattered pelvis, shattered femur & tibia, ruptured left femoral artery, perforated large intestine, left kidney, stomach, and bladder (resultant of pelvic bone fragments), fractured skull, fractured left arm, collapsed left lung, and partially severed left foot. SCP-8332-A's death was instantaneous and incongruous with its immediate causal context, prompting tentative designation as an anomalous event until further investigation. Archival. On 12-01-2024, 22:37:16 JST, Declan Yuu Ramirez, aged 34, was struck and killed by a drunk driver outside of his apartment in Osaka, Japan, sustaining injuries including fractured left arm, collapsed left lung, shattered femur & tibia, ruptured left femoral artery, perforated stomach, large intestine, bladder, and left kidney, shattered pelvis, fractured skull, and partially severed left foot. Ramirez was then designated SCP-8332-B. Following this, a semicomprehensive study crossexamining the medical, professional, and documented personal events & occurrences shared by SCP-8332-A and SCP-8332-B was conducted. (Summarized & Ongoing) 12-01-2024 - Died. 31-12-2023 - Kissed a stranger (Photodump). 17-12-2023 - Experienced a bout of bronchitis. 18-10-2023 - Hospitalized for accidental alcohol toxicity. 16-10-2023 - Switched cell phone providers (T-Mobile →) 15-10-2023 - Deleted and re-installed Instagram a total of eleven times. 12-10-2023 - Moved into a new studio apartment. 23-09-2023 - Made a personal loan inquiry. 16-06-2023 - Made a joint loan inquiry. 03-03-2023 - Filed to change taxing status. 29-08-2022 - Hospitalized for broken leg. 13-06-2022 - Moved into a one bedroom apartment (1 co-applicant). 07-02-2022 - Death of a parent (Maternal). 25-09-2021 - Hospitalized for accidental alcohol toxicity. SCP-8332-A and SCP-8332-B's activity from 2016-2021 display highly congruent patterns of mental health treatment and inconsistent employment. Data from prior to 2016 is erratic and incomplete (Pending). Archival. Documents recovered from the personal belongings of SCP-8332-A and SCP-8332-B indicate superficial or inconsistent cognitive consideration of the polar instance, colloquially described by Dr. Harman Waters as "Lopsided" From 1994-2000, SCP-8332-A and SCP-8332-B both attended Banyan Creek Elementary School. Findings suggest this time period was the only span of such in which the two anomalies had sustained direct interpersonal interaction; this is corroborated via entries and one superlative1 in the school's 2000-edition yearbook. Archival. Footnotes 1. "Best Friends Forever!" More From This Author More From This Author PoufyPoufson's Works SCPs SCP-7419 • SCP-7151 • SCP-6541 • SPHERE • SCP-7575 • SCP-7811 • SCP-8541 • SCP-8465 • SCP-8010 • SCP-3169 • SCP-7541 • SCP-8105 • Poufy's Proposal • SCP-8031 • SCP-7471 • Tales/GoI Formats Other SCP-POUF • Fear of Death • |
SCP-8333 | keter | The Foundation has been collecting these bears for two years. Throughout all the investigations, none of the SCP-8333-1 instances exhibited anomalous properties following confiscation, even those returned to their original owners for experimental purposes. The following documentation is currently undergoing evaluation for potential reclassification. During this intermediary assessment stage, annotations from the preliminary review process will remain preserved. Specimen of SCP-8333-1 at initial location of discovery. Currently held in temporary storage at Site-17. Item #: SCP-8333 Special Containment Procedures: Foundation webcrawlers are to be tasked with scanning social media for mentions of SCP-8333’s passphrase. Should any civilians be identified as potentially relevant to SCP-8333, their accounts are to be monitored for SCP-8333-1 creation. Should the production of SCP-8333-1 entities become widely shared material, artificial manipulation of trending content is to be enacted to redirect interest away from SCP-8333-1 instances. Instances of SCP-8333-1 confirmed to possess notable anomalous properties are to be confiscated. Use of amnestics is permitted for cover-up purposes, should any such instances be especially well-documented by its civilian owner. These recovered instances are to be held in low-priority storage at Site-17; access to SCP-8333-1 instances requires Level-3 clearance. Should the original owners or creators of SCP-8333-1 instances interfere with containment processes, Foundation response is to be determined on a case-by-case basis. The Foundation has been collecting these bears for two years. Throughout all the investigations, none of the SCP-8333-1 instances exhibited anomalous properties following confiscation, even those returned to their original owners for experimental purposes. -Dr. R. Mercer Description: SCP-8333 is an anomalous phenomenon that affects handmade clothing, particularly miniature garments used to adorn dolls, stuffed animals, or other similar objects. Items affected by SCP-8333 are designated SCP-8333-1.1 SCP-8333’s primary effects are believed to be protective; testing has been ineffective (see appended document SCP-8333-12-2) in determining precise abilities. Attributes tentatively associated with SCP-8333 are as follows: SCP-8333 manifests when a passphrase is spoken by the creator, usually when the SCP-8333-1 instance is completed or gifted.2 The passphrase is, “Thus do I dress the loves of my life.” SCP-8333 imbues the affected instance of SCP-8333-1 with anomalous durability, presumably a resistance to dust buildup, wear-and-tear, and staining. This longevity can allegedly be maintained by speaking another passphrase, which is currently unknown. SCP-8333 will only manifest if the creator makes a wish on the instance of SCP-8333-1. Owners of SCP-8333-1 instances consistently claim that they experience more restful, uninterrupted sleep when near an instance of SCP-8333-1 that belongs to them. This statement has been identified across interviewees of various backgrounds. The majority of information compiled regarding SCP-8333’s effects comes directly from Serpent’s Hand associates, in place of empirical trials carried out by Foundation scientists. This is indicative of a lack of consistent anomalous activity; furthermore, research teams assigned to SCP-8333 have been unable to use recovered SCP-8333-1 instances to replicate the civilian-observed effects in laboratory settings. -Dr. R. Mercer SCP-8333 initially came to Foundation attention following the publication of myriad news articles featuring a “Fairy Ring Sewing Circle” group. The group’s various social media accounts drew high amounts of internet traffic due to coverage of its charity endeavors involving local hospitals. Specifically, the Foundation was spurred to intervene when the group’s largest charity event coincided with the sudden formation of multiple smaller “fairy ring” sewing circles also participating in the donation events—the toys with handmade clothes contributed by many of these new groups were consistently described by recipients as “magical”, and “indescribable”. Action was authorized after field agents discovered that many members of these new groups were associated with the Serpent’s Hand group of interest. The field agents in question didn’t need to engage in any sort of sophisticated questioning to obtain the information regarding involvement of Hand associates. Interview logs (see extended files SCP-8333-4) indicate that the sewing circle members simply stated “yes” when asked if they were familiar with the Serpent’s Hand. None of the interviewees were taken into custody, as all of them were, for all intents and purposes, normal civilians. Followup investigations into these potential persons of interest revealed no unusual behavior or predisposition for anomalous abilities. -Dr. R. Mercer Addendum-8333-1: Due to a lack of viable data obtained from laboratory trials involving SCP-8333-1 instances, the Foundation attempted to contact members of the “Fairy Ring” hobbyist groups for further information regarding their anomalous crafts. Dr. Riven Mercer, acting as an ambassador between the Foundation and the Serpent’s Hand, was granted a series of interviews with one such group under the condition that the contents of the interviews not be released to the public. An excerpt of the second interview in the series is as follows: Excerpt from Interview-8333-2: Interviewer: Dr. R. Mercer Interviewees: Members of the “Gathering Godmothers” sewing circle, offshoot of the original “Fairy Ring” group. Aliases “Bee”, “Magpie”, “Lioness”, “Ewe”, and “Tuna” are used in place of the individuals’ legal names. Dr. Mercer: Thank you again for agreeing to this interview. Lioness: Thank you for keeping your promise about the sewing kit. I trust the pattern is simple enough to follow? Dr. Mercer: I’ll try my best. I’ve only ever done simple embroidery and some mending, so it might take me a few tries to get the hemming down. And I’ll practice the buttonhole stitch on mockups like you suggested. Magpie: That’s an important one, you know, can’t have the arm holes fraying after you put the coat on the bear! And it’s much easier to sew thread around an opening than add a tiny tiny sleeve onto a tiny coat. Sleeves are the literal devil, mind you, but you shouldn’t need to worry about sleeves. Dr. Mercer: I’ll keep that in mind. Can you tell me a little more about these bears? And their clothes? Bee: Well, the bears we just get on the cheap. Drug stores, grocery stores, big box stores with small displays. Usually near greeting cards. Lots of sales after holidays. Mind your scissors dear, they’ll fall off your lap. Ewe: Thank you. Dr. Mercer: I see. And what about the clothes? Tuna: It all started with a friend of ours. Someone’s great-aunt or somesuch, twice removed, what have you. We all just called her “Auntie”. Nice lady. Moved away at some point, no one knows where she went. I miss her. Dr. Mercer: And this “Auntie”, she taught you the patterns? Magpie: Nope! She gave us some bears she made cute clothes for, though. And it all sort of snowballed from there, you see. All of us had something or other that was really bothering us, but for some reason… having that bear around, just felt nice, you know? Like someone was thinking of you. Looking out for you. Saying they were on your side, even if you didn’t even know if you were on your own side or not. We didn’t even ask for the bears, she just gave them out because she had spare time or something. I don’t know if she had any other hobbies, I just always saw her sewing. Seemed happy doing it, especially when we brought her old clothes we outgrew and she could cut up for scraps. Bee: I couldn’t sleep during nursing school. Slept better when the bear from Auntie was by the pillow. Always slept well since. You dropped your pincushion. Dr. Mercer: Oh, thank you. Was there anything special about how she made clothes for the bears? Tuna: Isn’t anything made by hand these days inherently special in some way? It’s so hard to find time in one’s day to do something nice for yourself, let alone think about someone else in these hectic times. Dr. Mercer: So the bears are entirely ordinary? Tuna: Well, I didn’t quite say that, hmm? I’ll have you know that my bear got me through a nasty breakup, better than any food or TV show or sleep medication ever did. Dr. Mercer: Can you tell me more about that process? Lioness: Careful. Dr. Mercer: Sorry if I overstepped. Lioness: We will let you know which questions we will answer. So far as the bears go… would you consider something made with care “ordinary”? Dr. Mercer: Maybe, compared to something made with care that has, say, magical properties. Tuna: Oh, and what would you consider magic, science man? Dr. Mercer: Something that science can’t explain? Bee: Why do people carve their initials into trees? Why do people snap love locks to fences and throw away the keys? Is that magic? Dr. Mercer: Please elaborate. Tuna: It’s all a matter of perspective, really. Would you consider the Mona Lisa magical because she can make people cry, or smile, or contemplate life, all just by looking at her? Dr. Mercer: I suppose not. In that same vein, does that mean you just find the bears soothing to be around, because Auntie made them specially for you? Magpie: I think you’ll need to sit with the circle a few more weeks before we start talking about the super secret details of our past lives, silly. Your mockups have been looking better compared to last time, though, doctor. Huh, huh, what do you think? Ewe: He is improving. Better than the last newcomer. Dr. Mercer: I’ll try my best. Will there be other novices joining me in later sessions? Magpie: Ah… no. Most likely not. Fewer and fewer people ask us to teach them, when they happen to find us. And most of those who do try to learn, don’t keep up with it. And of course, right around the corner are people who say handmade crafts are for old grannies who need to give up and whiny babies who need to grow up. Dr. Mercer: Is that why you’ve all continued making these bears? To prove a point? Lioness: We work with our hands to convey our hearts. Perhaps someday, you too will have a wish you would like to manifest in the same way. Addendum-8333-2: As of three years following the initial classification of SCP-8333, Facility Oversight has agreed to review the proposal put forth by Dr. Riven Mercer, co-director of Kiryu Laboratories at Site-17, to re-classify SCP-8333 as a low-tier Unexplained Phenomenon. A panel will be convened for Dr. Mercer’s team to present their findings. Show follow-up documentation Close follow-up documentation Specimen of SCP-8333-1 generated by Dr. R. Mercer. Currently stationed at Site-17 per standing agreement with the Serpent’s Hand “Wishweaver” faction, to be entrusted to the custody of Dr. Mercer’s godson for further analysis. Empirical observation may continue if deemed necessary. Oversight’s decision is acknowledged. Kiryu Labs will officially begin the transfer process effective immediately. Corresponding documentation will be updated to reflect the new non-SCP designation, and any remaining items in storage will be moved to low concern locker vaults, or restored to their original owners. The second passphrase is, “With the dearest of wishes my heart can weave forth.” -Dr. R. Mercer Footnotes 1. “Teddy bear” toys are the most commonly observed instances of SCP-8333-1. 2. Instances of SCP-8333-1 are often gifted from the creator to a younger relative, ward, or protégée. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8333" by Zyn, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8333. 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: wish1.jpg Author: Zyn License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-8333/wish1.jpg Filename: wish2.jpg Author: Zyn License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-8333/wish2.jpg |
SCP-8335 | esoteric-class | //In which a plague of bs rises over the SCP Wiki. esreil's four SCP-8335 By authors: J_V_G Esreil IndustryStandard Alzin Cdag | More by this author other authors' existing works included in this article: scp-8102 by Monkeysky scp-426 by Flah scp-6430 by S D Locke scp-2565 by Taffeta scp-2602 by Communism will win The Bee-Boy's Song, by Rudyard Kipling ACCESSIBILITY MODE Item #: 8335|0 Research Head: Dr. Guy Jenrick Special Containment Procedures: All known SCP-8335 collectives have been relocated to Textual-biological Containers (TbCs) to allow for further maintenance of the hive collectives without risk of failure or mass proliferation. To ensure the safety of hives, TbCs are not to come in contact with untreated external textual materials, nor are TbCs to be removed from their cells for any reason. Hive @lpha is to be contained within the SCP-8335 file. The SCP-8335 file is to be stored on an airgapped TbC. All informational entry and exit from the SCP-8335 file is to be filtered by Aristaeus.aic, in order to preserve the integrity of Hive @lpha and limit the possibility of hostile textual-biological entities initiating a WK-Class 'Death of the Author' scenario.1 Hive @lpha is to be regularly maintained, with excess textual-flora pruned at frequent intervals and the overall health of Hive @lpha detailed weekly. As per the protocols of Project 'Memedovukha', upon Hive @lpha generating an instance of SCP-8335-A, that instance is to be isolated and relocated to the TbC corresponding with the scheduled descending priority memetic target. Description: SCP-8335 is a species of sentient textual organisms resembling a highly simplified form of Apis mellifera,2 that is capable of inhabiting all forms of written text. Instances live in hive communities centralized on specific documents. At present, all known hives are under foundation control. The primary actors within a SCP-8335 hive are SCP-8335-b "Worker" class characters, represented by "b". Within an active hive, instances will interact with compatible characters and the designated hive node to produce SCP-8335-C "Nourishment" class characters, represented by "h". A sufficient stockpile of SCP-8335-C will allow for the incubation of an SCP-8335-A "Regent" class character, represented by "q". For comprehensive documentation of compatible characters, see the table located at the bottom of the description. Upon the emergence of a new Regent class character, the hive will initiate a swarm event. During this event, the new Regent will gather a small number of Worker class characters with whom it will transpose intertextually, proliferating to a new document. Though Regent swarms have been identified crossing large physical distances instantaneously during these events, they most commonly infest documents containing either a similar locus of information to the base of the original hive, or information pertaining to the SCP-8335 species itself. Key Class Function b Worker Primary actors in hive. Collect Resource from Flowers and miscellaneous characters from across the document. h Nourishment Created using Resource and stored within Hive node. q Regent Necessary for anomalous function. Activates new Worker characters. Incubated once quantity of stored Nourishment exceeds 8335. # Hive Central interaction node. Contains active Regent. p d Resource Converted to Nourishment in Hive. X ¥ @ g Flower Interaction point where Workers extract Resource. May multiply if exposed to Resource from other Flowers. $ Smoke Eliminates anomalous activity temporarily. J Collection Can be manipulated to interact with Hive or free Nourishment characters to remove Nourishment from document. Discovery and History: SCP-8335 was discovered within the literary collection of Raymond l'Emile. Raymond l'Emile was a known associate of the defunct GoI The High Men of Orp Terra, a group of hobbyist thaumaturgical apiarists who appear to have disbanded suddenly around the time of the outbreak of the First World War. The Foundation acquired the collection during a sting operation carried out by MTF Mu-43 'Honey Trappers' on a suspected Marshall, Carter, and Dark affiliate on 1/6/1946. By the time the Foundation became aware of the presence of SCP-8335 within the collection, it had established extensive colonies in almost all of the collected works. A thorough operation to comb through the texts for actionable material was conducted, but the majority of the texts proved illegible. On 6/1/1994, a re-evaluation of the recovered material was performed with the aid of previously unavailable digital analysis tools by Dr. Guy Jenrick of the Department of History. While much of the collection remained too damaged to interpret, the following passages relevant to the origins of SCP-8335 were recovered from the personal journals of Raymond l'Emile. The Seve[…] March, Ninetee[…] Mister Koschevnikov, dear that he is, brought to us a new Yeoman, looking to obtain the Freedom of The City with the Company, at our meeting at The Three Candles last night. A peculiar little Teutonic gentleman by the name of Honig Bienenstock. By his own admission, he has some history in the arts of cryptomancy, and proposed to Koschevnikov a manner of working to ensorcell the very letters on a page to live and work, as if they were the industrious fellows we owe our passions and livelihood to. Most intrigued by such a queer novelty, I encouraged my Roy to invite the good man posthaste to join us at the company hall as soon as he is able. The Ni[…] Apr[…] I confess, it was not until Bienenstock scraped it from the page and glazed it upon a fine slice of toasted rye that I had even considered that these keímenopterids could produce edible honey. A drop of amber nectar busied from the very words of Trattato sulla cognizione, enticing and sweet. It was at once the most delectable and confounding thing I have ever tasted. The floral notes deepened by the chorus of linguistic flourishes upon the tongue. To savour a word is an intoxicating thing indeed, I fear I lack the poetic soul to do justice to such an experience. Mister Koschevnikov and I have hastened to induct Mister Bienenstock into the ranks of our High Men with a great expediancy. It is imperative that we acquire more, and the means to make it. I am overcome with an unbearable need to taste the sweetness of a sonnet, by ear and by tongue, with my Roy Mister Koschevnikov on a warm summer evening. […]eth of April, […] Mister Koschevnekov surprised us with quite the spread at the Three Candles, a veritable smorgasbord as Mister Mjödson put it, and fine vintages they were. What a delightful man our Mister Koschevnekov, and what a delightful evening. I shall include below the experience of each honey, to the best of my limited hand. A reintroduction to the floral melody of the Trattato sulla cognizione, as fragrant and enticing as I remember. Following such a familiar yet intoxicating flavour, I saw fit to sample the rustic and almost earthy tones born of the Canterbury Tales. It served well to cleanse my palate, but certainly did not ignite any great passion within me. An acquired taste perhaps, as Earl Chandler seemed particularly infatuated with it. Seeking something a little more unusual, I turned to a product of our dear Roy's mother country, by his account it is a deeply controversial opera called Victory Over the Sun. I confess I could make neither heads nor tails of the text itself, perhaps I shall entreat Mister Koschevnekov to explain it to me at a later date. But the honey, good heavens the honey. Electrifying, it is the only word for it. The flavour of thrumming energy and coursing motion. It was like tasting the very essence of the future. A curious sort of aroma emanated from my next choice, a woody note perhaps, but with a certain dark tinge to it. The taste was almost indescribable. A thrilling edge, but with a haunting tone that lingered on the tongue long afterwards. If it tastes this exciting, I shall certainly have to read this Dracula. But I saved the finest until last, I had been eyeing it since the events of the evening had been unveiled. Honeyed from a copy of Wordsworth's The Prelude, the aroma was beyond my limited pen to convey. The essence of a man, his life and labours, so expertly crafted into verse, crystallized into an incomparably divine spread of amber. It tasted, I confess, of a kin with the feeling that rises in my chest to hear my dearest Roy laugh. I think, perhaps, it is good that I lack that poet's soul, if I did then the sight of his face as he tasted the honey of my craft would be the final note my heart could handle. […]mber, Nin[…] Roy has taken receipt of a most troublesome tome. 'Twas apparently concocted by Bienenstock's cryptomantic compatriots, and contains many a comprehensively confounding and confuddling quip and quirk of querolous quandary. While the wily work of warped and weirdsome words weighs upon my wearisome cerebrum, Koschevnikov's close consideration of commensurate courses proposed the possibility of populating the pages with the peculiar pollinators we have grown so incandescently infatuated with. The subsequent concoction tickles and teases the tongue with a delightful dance of delectable dining experiences. Enamoured with the experience, I have entreated my dearest Koschevnikov to make merry again. Maychance I shall remodel the reading room, a rightful recepticle for our rapturous recreations and melifluous mellifera. The Twentieth […]er, N[…]een. I find with each sting of honeyed words, the confounding consequences of the Teutonic tome fade a little further. Alas, it seems, so too does the enrapturing ecstasy of prior stings fade, and so I have taken to larger servings with my tea. My dear Koschevnikov it seems has become similarly afflicted, though I fear he has found fit to engage in a more extensive relationship with our favoured friends. He makes time to converse at the Candles less and less as the weeks of autumn wear on. I ensure my schedule is free to receive him at any evening, but I worry perhaps my postings are not being delivered as replies have grown infrequent. […]teenth of […]ber, Ni[…]rteen. It has been, I believe, at least a fortnight since I last received a correspondence from my Roy, and I will confess that I am growing concerned. In the years I have known his sweet soul, this is far from the first time we have gone so long without speaking, but there is a different timbre to the silence this time. I hope that is a sign of my advancing age, a creeping of paranoia at the corners of my thinking. I pray it is. I seem to be struggling more than usual to find the words to put to page. Perhaps my Roy is feeling the same, and that is why I have not heard from him. I suppose I could speculate all night and be no closer to the truth, I shall endeavour to make a pilgrimage to his place of rest on the morrow and put these worries to bed. I hope that is not presumptive of me. I arrived this morning at the estate of Mister Koschevnikov. I do not have the words, and I fear it uncouth of me to describe his condition. Oh Roy, oh Roy, the sweet sight of you turned so sour in my heart. I wish I could have done more. I should have done more. I shall never clear the stain from my soul. Before the current developments, Dr. A. P. Oidea believed the symptoms were commensurate with a certain confusion of the bodily defenses. "Allergy" was the word I believe he used. Now he stares, dumb as the rest of us, at the chimeric corpse. It is all such a blur to me, I confess my mind simply cannot accept the things I know to be true. I cannot bear to think of it longer, the visage of my dearest's face so silent awaits me with every timorous blink. I have reclaimed the volumes of his personal libapiaries. Perhaps to remember him by. Perhaps to drown myself in sweet sorrows. Following this transcription, the body of Roy Koschevnikov was exhumed and its DNA sequenced. Foreign genetic material was found interpolated between the human nucleotides. The work detailing the method of creating SCP-8335 was among those affected by the infestation. However, l'Emile had left a wax-sealed note detailing the procedure for introducing 'smoke' to a colony in order to pacify 8335 instances. This discovery allowed initial researchers to prevent further proliferation of the contained colonies. Initial containment procedures called for affected works to be 'smoke' sealed, but regular containment checks revealed that a number of the colonies had become inert, unable to be woken up. As a result, updated containment procedures were introduced, only permitting 'smoking' as a countermeasure to breaches, with SCP-8335 affected works being sealed in standard containment lockers. After a series of containment breaches in the early 1970s, resulting in the total loss of several textual anomalies, authorisation was granted to the Hymenoptera Incarceration and Virtualization Endeavour. The goal of the project was to convert the extant SCP-8335 colonies into a format that could be more readily contained and observed, while reducing the risk of breaches threatening high priority textual anomalies. The resulting device, dubbed the Anomalous Paratextual Relocation Engine (or APRE), enabled the foundation to upload the colonies currently in containment to TbCs. The current containment procedures were drafted in conjunction with the Endeavour, and have reduced breach events by 16.46%. Addendum: Project 'Memedovukha' Informed by l'Emile's experience with 'honey', Dr. Jenrick proposed that, when 'harvested' from a text with memetic effects, SCP-8335 will impart some measure of resistance to those same memetic effects. He subsequently submitted a research proposal to investigate the extent and field applicability of this effect. On 6/1/2004, Project 'Memedovukha' was authorised to research the apparent memetic inoculation effect imparted by SCP-8335-C. Phase 1 - Extraction: Initial trials were performed by 'smoking' the infected page, and then scraping the 'hive' character with a laboratory spatula, a slow and tedious process that was swiftly deemed unsuitable for the long term needs of the project. While experimentation with a heavily modified radial honey extractor significantly improved per-hour outputs of usable SCP-8335-C, further refinement of the system was abandoned due to an unsustainably high rate of hive extinctions. Ultimately, building on the extant functions of the APREs used in containment and transport, a specialised application was developed, officially dubbed Jar_Muzen.cab. The application functions in a three part process, draining the 'hive' character, relocating the drained 8335-C instances to a blank page, and automatically printing the resulting file. Upon printing, processing of the printed material is handled by Aristaeus.aic in order to minimise the risk of memetic cross-contamination. The Jar_Muzen.cab procedure passed all efficiency benchmarks with regards to production quantity and hive retention rates, and the project was cleared to enter Phase 2. Phase 2 - Refinement: Based on the information retrieved from the journals of Raymond l'Emile, a risk of melinaphylaxis and subsequent Melinadelian interpolation presents at higher doses or prolonged usage of 8335-C, and so a method for increasing potency without accompanying risk of allergic reaction was deemed necessary. Chemical analyses of 8335-C revealed a primary composition of keímenosaccharides,3. Derived from this understanding, a process of fermentation through the introduction of a thaumaturgically enhanced brewer's yeast classified as verbumyces medo was devised. The resultant syllavylcarbinol4 proved to retain the inoculative effect of 8335-C, while dramatically decreasing cases of melinaphylaxis during animal trials. Further refinement of the process brought lethality rates below target rates, and Phase 3 was authorised. Phase 3 - Human Testing: Phase 3 of Project 'Memedovukha' is currently ongoing, and is focused on human trials of the completed Class-b targeted memeadic inoculant. The primary goal is to demonstrate the safety and efficacy in protecting researchers and field agents from a selected group of memetic hazards. Included within this page is an APRE window, which will allow transfer of incubated SCP-8335-A instances from the Hive @lpha page to a locally hosted copy of the articles detailing the selected hazards. Once each page has been swarmed, an initial batch of Class-b inoculant will be produced to perform a double-blind study in order to prove its effectiveness and viability for field deployment. Footnotes 1. As per directive from the Pataphysics Department. 2. Binomial name of the European Honey Bee. 3. A semantic sugar analogue 4. A semantic alcohol analogue – hide block <!doctype html> <html> <head> <style> @import url('https://d3g0gp89917ko0.cloudfront.net/v--edac79f846ba/common--theme/base/css/style.css'); @import url('https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/sigma/css/sigma.min.css'); @import url('https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com//local--code/theme:raisa-sigma/1'); @import url('https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com//local--code/component:betterfootnotes/1'); div.warning-box { position: relative; height: 15rem; } div.warning-box span { word-break: break-word; } div.warning-box div.warning-box-container { display: -webkit-box; display: -webkit-flex; display: -ms-flexbox; display: flex; -webkit-box-orient: vertical; -webkit-box-direction: normal; -webkit-flex-direction: column; -ms-flex-direction: column; flex-direction: column; -webkit-box-pack: center; -webkit-justify-content: center; -ms-flex-pack: center; justify-content: center; height: 93%; } div.warning-box div.text-top, div.warning-box div.text-bottom, div.warning-box div.text-number { width: 100%; display: block; justify-content: center; text-align: center; } div.warning-box div.text-top { --wght: 900; font-size: 2em; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0.2em; font-weight: 900; } div.warning-box div.text-bottom { font-size: 1.25em; line-height: 1; margin: 0 auto; } div.warning-box div.text-number { font-size: 1.5em; position: absolute; bottom: 2.8em; font-weight: 900; color: green; } div.warning-box div.image-bg { position: absolute; background: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/component:object-warning-box-source/scp-logo.svg); background: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/component:object-warning-box-source/scp-logo.svg); -webkit-background-size: contain; background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: center center; top: 3px; width: 100%; height: 15rem; z-index: 0; opacity: 0.15; } @media only screen and (max-width: 768px) { div.warning-box div.text-top { font-size: 1.75em; } div.warning-box div.text-bottom { font-size: 1.15em; } } .idle{ margin:auto; animation-duration:2s; animation-name:idle; animation-iteration-count: infinite; animation-direction:alternate; } .smokeStage1{ margin:auto; animation-duration:5s; animation-name:smoke1; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-direction:normal; } .smokeStage2{ animation-duration:5s; animation-name:smoke2; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-direction:normal; } @keyframes smoke1 { 0% {transform: scale(100%, 100%); opacity:100%;} 100% {transform: scale(600%, 600%); opacity: 0%; display:none;} } @keyframes smoke2 { 0% {transform:translateX(0px) transform:translateY(0px) scale(100%,100%); opacity:100%;} 100% {transform:translateY(-400px) translateX(-400px) scale(800%,800%); opacity:0%; display:none;} } @keyframes idle { 0%{transform:rotate(-20deg);} 100%{transform:rotate(20deg);} } .bee { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; max-width:8px; max-height:4px; } .beeHolder { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; min-width:9px; margin-top: 1px; margin-bottom: 1px; } .newDocBeeBase { position: relative; left:60px; height:10px; } .otherText { float: left; clear: none; margin-top: 1px; margin-bottom: 1px; white-space:break-spaces; } .bt { float: left; clear: none; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; white-space:break-spaces; } .flower { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; } .hive { font-weight:bold; height:4px; max-height:4px; } .collectible { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; } .collectibleHolder{ float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; min-width:7px; margin-top: 1px; margin-bottom: 1px; } .jar { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; white-space:break-spaces; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; } .fnnum {counter-increment: megacount 1; margin-left: -.45em; margin-right:0} .fnnum::after {color: rgb(188, 145, 37)} .fnnum:hover {background-color: rgb(188, 145, 37)} .fncon::before {background-color: rgb(188, 145, 37)} .queen { float: left; clear: none; font-size: xxx-large; white-space:break-spaces; height: 60px; width: 40px; } .outerText { width:100%; overflow:hidden; } .queenCollector { overflow:visible; height:60px; } .queenCollectorHighlight { background-color: yellow; } .jarCollectorHighlight { background-color: yellow; } .queenBeingDragged { opacity:0%; } .floatingImage { height: 150px; width: 150px; position: fixed; top:50%; left:50%; margin-left:-75px; margin-top:-75px; border:solid black 3px; display:none; } br { clear:both; } td { max-width:400px; color: rgb(221, 221, 119); background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: solid 1px rgb(170, 170, 85); padding: 0.3em 0.7em; } th { max-width:400px; font-weight:bold; text-align: center; color: rgb(224, 196, 71); background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: solid 1px rgb(170, 170, 85); text-transform: uppercase; } table { border-collapse: collapse; margin: auto; color: rgb(221, 221, 119); background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: solid 2px rgb(170, 170, 85); padding: 0.3em 0.7em; } .beeleasebox { background-image:url("data:image/svg+xml;utf8,<svg xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg' version='1.1' height='17px' width='94px'><text x='1.5' y='10' fill='rgb(201, 189, 106)' font-size='9'>RELEASE THE BEES!</text></svg>"); background-color: #d6c9698a; } .beequeenboxtext { background-image:url("data:image/svg+xml;utf8,<svg xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg' version='1.1' height='17px' width='95px'><text x='12' y='11' fill='rgb(201, 189, 106)' font-size='9'>Drop Queen Here</text></svg>"); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: center; background-color: #d6c9698a; } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .mobilefix { font-size: .5em; } .mobilefix2 { font-size: .25em; } .mobilefix3 { background-image:url("data:image/svg+xml;utf8,<svg xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg' version='1.1' height='17px' width='60px'><text x='2' y='11' fill='rgb(201, 189, 106)' font-size='7'>Drop Queen Here</text></svg>"); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: center; background-color: #d6c9698a; } </style> </head> <body> <div style="border: solid 2px gray; overflow:hidden;"> <div style="width:auto; border: outset 4px silver; background: gray;padding: 10px;padding-bottom:0px; overflow-y:hidden; overflow-x:hidden;"> <div style="width:auto; height:30em; border: solid 3px #d1b40d; background: #edcf1f;padding: .5em; border-radius: 10px; overflow-y:hidden; overflow-x:hidden;"> <div style="width:auto; height: 28em; border: solid 3px #d1b40d; background: #ffffff;padding: 10px; overflow-y:scroll; overflow-x:hidden;"> <img class="floatingImage" src = "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/esriel-color-print.gif" alt="image indicating an h is being printed"> <div id = "mobileScrollJarDiv" style="position:absolute; min-height:25px;min-width:15px;white-space:break-spaces;" class="queenBeingDragged"> j</div> <div id="smokeTutorialHousing" style="display:block; width:100%; height:75em; text-align:center; overflow-y:visible; overflow-x:hidden;"> <button onclick="smokeFinal();">Skip tutorial</button><br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f3f3f38f;display:inline-block;padding:10px;border-radius:100px"> <div class="warning-box"> <div class="warning-box-container"> <div class="text-top"> <span>SMOKE PROCEDURE ACTIVE</span> </div> <div class="text-bottom" style="display:block;"> <span>File Status:</span> </div> </div> <div class="text-number"> <span>DOCILE </span> </div> <div class="image-bg"> </div> </div> </div> <br> <br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f7f5ed8f;display:inline-block;padding:3px"> Click "<div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm11" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm11')" onclick="smokeClick('sm11')">$ </div>" To Initiate Dispersal Sequence </div> <br><br><br><div class="idle" id="smokeTutorial" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeIterate()" onclick="smokeIterate()">$</div> <div id="kipling" style="display:none"> <div style="border: 2px none #c2c0bc; background: #e1c45180; display: inline-block; padding: 6px; border-radius: 50px;"> <div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm10" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm10')" onclick="smokeClick('sm10')">$MOKE </div><div style="display:inline-block;" id="smokeLeft"> Remaining: 11</div><br> </div> </br> </br> <br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f7f5ed8f;display:inline-block;padding:10px"> Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">'Hide from your neigbours as much a</div><div id ="sm1" style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;" class="idle" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm1')" onclick="smokeClick('sm1')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;"> you plea</div><div id ="sm8" style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;" tabindex="0" onclick="smokeClick('sm8')" onfocus="smokeClick('sm8')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">e,</div><br> But all that has happened, to us you must tell,<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">Or else we will give you no honey to </div><div id ="sm2"style="display:inline-block" class="idle" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm2')" onclick="smokeClick('sm2')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">ell!'</div><br> <br> A maiden in her glory,<br> Upon her wedding-day,<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">Must tell her Bees the </div><div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm3" tabindex="0" onfocus= "smokeClick('sm3')" onclick="smokeClick('sm3')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">tory,</div><br> Or else they'll fly away.<br> Fly away—die away—<br> Dwindle down and leave you!<br> But if you don't deceive your Bees,<br> Your Bees will not deceive you.<br> <br> Marriage, birth or buryin',<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">News across the </div><div id ="sm4" style="display:inline-block" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm4')" onclick="smokeClick('sm4')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">eas,</div><br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">All you're </div><div id ="sm5" style="display:inline-block" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm5')" onclick="smokeClick('sm5')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">ad or merry in,</div><br> You must tell the Bees.<br> Tell 'em coming in an' out,<br> <div style="display:inline-block">Where the Fanner</div><div id ="sm6" style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm6')" onclick="smokeClick('sm6')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;"> fan,</div><br> <div style="display:inline-block">'Cau</div><div id ="sm7" style="display:inline-block" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm7')" onclick="smokeClick('sm7')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">e the Bees are justabout</div><br> As curious as a man!<br> <br> Don't you wait where the trees are,<br> When the lightnings play,<br> Nor don't you hate where Bees are,<br> <div style="display:inline-block">Or el</div><div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm9" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm9')" onclick="smokeClick('sm9')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">e they'll pine away.</div><br> Pine away—dwine away—<br> Anything to leave you!<br> But if you never grieve your Bees,<br> Your Bees'll never grieve you.<br><br> <b> - <i>The Bee-Boy's Song</i>, Rudyard Kipling</b> </div> <br> <br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#fadede;display:inline-block;padding:3px"> <b>NOTE:</b> <i>All</i> smoke characters must be clicked to continue! </div> </div> </div> <div id="finalSmoke" style="display:none"> <div style="text-align: center"> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f3f3f38f;display:inline-block;padding:10px;border-radius:100px"> <div class="warning-box"> <div class="warning-box-container"> <div class="text-top"> <span>SMOKE FULLY DISPERSED</span> </div> <div class="text-bottom" style="display:block;"> <span>File Status:</span> </div> </div> <div class="text-number" style="color:grey"> <span>WAKING</span> </div> <div class="image-bg"> </div> </div> </div> <br> <br>fa <button style="background: #d6c9698a; color: #b69668; font-family: 'Oxanium';border-radius: 10PX; BORDER: NONE;" onclick = "smokeFinal()"><h2>Proceed to tend Hive @lpha?</h2></button> </div> </div> <div id="OutsideOfEverything" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "8330" style="display:none;"> <button onclick="addQueenSkip()">Skip to adding the queen</button> <div id="travellingSelectorBox" style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <div style="width:auto;font-family:'Oxanium';padding: 5px; border: solid 2px #939393; background: #c9c6b8; color: #887f7f; border-radius: 10px;"> <div style="width:auto; border: solid 2px #939393; background: #e9e9e9; padding: 10px; border-radius: 10px;"> <div style="width: 70%;display:inline-block"> <div id = "linkBlock" style="width:100%; border: solid 2px #bcbcbc; background: #c6c6c6; text-color: #bcbcbc;text-align:center"> <label for="linkSelect" class="mobilefix">APRE Selector:</label></br> <select id="linkSelect" class="mobilefix" style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;"> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; text-color: #aa5656;" value="">Select Article Destination</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; text-color: #aa5656;" value="Bee">SCP-8335</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value = "Toaster">SCP-426</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value = "Library">SCP-2602-which-used-to-be-a-library</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value = "Allison">Allison-Eckhart</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value="Verbosity">SCP-6430</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value="FF">SCP-8102</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value="Sandbox">Sandbox</option> </select> </br> <a id="fakeLink" style="color:DimGray;font-size:calc(0.35em + 1vw)" href="" onclick="fakeLinkClick(event)" class="mobilefix2"> Insert queen to select queen destination</a> </div> </div> <div style="width:25%;display:inline-block;float:right"> <button class="queenCollector beequeenboxtext mobilefix3" ondrop="queenDropHandler(event)" ondragover= "queenDragover(event)" id="LinkButton" style="width:100%; border: double 4px #ae99053b;"> <div id="queenCollectorInitialText"><br></div> </button> </div> </div> </div> <br> </div> <div id = "OriginalBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnOriginal" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('OutsideOfEverything','queenReturnOriginal','OriginalBase',testMoveHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:none;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <p> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item #</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Object Class:</div></div> <div class="bt">Thaumeli</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Research Head:</div></div> <div class="bt">Dr. Guy Jenrick</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt"> All known SCP-8335 collectives have been relocated to Textual-biological Containers (TbCs) to allow for further maintenance of the hive collectives without risk of failure or mass proliferation. To ensure the safety of hives, TbCs are not to come in contact with untreated external textual materials, nor are TbCs to be removed from their cells for any reason.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Hive @lpha is to be contained within the SCP-8335 file. The SCP-8335 file is to be stored on an airgapped TbC. All informational entry and exit from the SCP-8335 file is to be filtered by Aristaeus.aic, in order to preserve the integrity of Hive @lpha and limit the possibility of hostile textual-biological entities initiating a WK-Class 'Death of the Author' scenario.</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum">.</span><span class="fncon">As per directive from the Pataphysics Department.</span> </div><div class="bt"> Hive @lpha is to be regularly maintained, with excess textual-flora pruned at frequent intervals and the overall health of Hive @lpha detailed weekly.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">As per the protocols of Project 'Memedovukha', upon Hive @lpha generating an instance of SCP-8335-A, that instance is to be isolated and relocated to the TbC corresponding with the scheduled descending priority memetic target.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div> <div class="bt">SCP-8335 is a species of sentient textual organisms resembling a highly simplified form of</div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Apis mellifera,</div></div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 2;">.</span><span class="fncon">Binomial name of the European Honey Bee.</span> </div><div class="bt"> that is capable of inhabiting all forms of written text. Instances live in hive communities centralized on specific documents. At present, all known hives are under foundation control.</div><br><br> <div class="bt"> The primary actors within a SCP-8335 hive are SCP-8335-b "Worker" class characters, represented by "b". Within an active hive, instances will interact with compatible characters and the designated hive node to produce SCP-8335-C "Nourishment" class characters, represented by "h". A sufficient stockpile of SCP-8335-C will allow for the incubation of an SCP-8335-A "Regent" class character, represented by "q". For comprehensive documentation of compatible characters, see the table located at the bottom of the description.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Upon the emergence of a new Regent class character, the hive will initiate a swarm event. During this event, the new Regent will gather a small number of Worker class characters with whom it will transpose intertextually, proliferating to a new document. Though Regent swarms have been identified crossing large physical distances instantaneously during these events, they most commonly infest documents containing either a similar locus of information to the base of the original hive, or information pertaining to the SCP-8335 species itself.</div><br><br> <table> <thead> <tr style="text-align:center"> <th>Key </th><th>Class<th>Function</th> </tr> </thead> <tbody> <tr> <td><div style="display:inline-block;" id="beeInTable" onclick="removeIdleAnimation('beeInTable')" class="idle"><div class="bt"> b </div></div></td><td><div class="bt"> Worker </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Primary actors in hive. Collect Resource from Flowers and miscellaneous characters from across the document. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> h </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Nourishment </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Created using Resource and stored within Hive node. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> q </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Regent </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Necessary for anomalous function. Activates new Worker characters. Incubated once quantity of stored Nourishment exceeds 8335. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td># </td><td><div class="bt"> Hive </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Central interaction node. Contains active Regent. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> p d </div></td> <td><div class="bt"> Resource </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Converted to Nourishment in Hive.</div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> X ¥ @ g </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Flower </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Interaction point where Workers extract Resource. May multiply if exposed to Resource from other Flowers. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td>$ </td><td><div class="bt"> Smoke </div></td><td> <div class="bt">Eliminates anomalous activity temporarily. </div></td> </tr><tr> <td><div class="bt"> J j </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Collection </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Can be manipulated to interact with Hive or free Nourishment characters to remove Nourishment from document. </div></td></tr> </tbody> </table> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Discovery and History:</div></div><div class="bt"> SCP-8335 was discovered within the literary collection of Raymond l'Emile. Raymond l'Emile was a known associate of the defunct GoI The High Men of Orp Terra, a group of hobbyist thaumaturgical apiarists who appear to have disbanded suddenly around the time of the outbreak of the first world war. The Foundation acquired the collection during a sting operation carried out by MTF Mu-43 'Honey Trappers' on a suspected Marshall, Carter, and Dark affiliate on 1/6/1946. By the time the Foundation became aware of the presence of SCP-8335 within the collection, it had established extensive colonies in almost all of the collected works. A thorough operation to comb through the texts for actionable material was conducted, but the majority of the texts proved illegible.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">On 6/1/1994, a re-evaluation of the recovered material was performed with the aid of previously unavailable digital analysis tools by Dr. Guy Jenrick of the Department of History. While much of the collection remained too damaged to interpret, the following passages relevant to the origins of SCP-8335 were recovered from the personal journals of Raymond l'Emile.</div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">The Seve[...] March, Ninetee[...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Mister Koschevnikov, dear that he is, brought to us a new Yeoman, looking to obtain the Freedom of The City with the Company, at our meeting at The Three Candles last night. A peculiar little Teutonic gentleman by the name of Honig Bienenstock.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">By his own admission, he has some history in the arts of cryptomancy, and proposed to Koschevnikov a manner of working to ensorcell the very letters on a page to live and work, as if they were the industrious fellows we owe our passions and livelihood to.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Most intrigued by such a queer novelty, I encouraged </div><div style="text-decoration-line: line-through; float:left; clear:none; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; white-space:break-spaces;">my </div><div class="bt"> Roy to invite the good man posthaste to join us at the company hall as soon as he is able. </div><br><br></div><br> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">The Ni[...] Apr[...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I confess, it was not until Bienenstock scraped it from the page and glazed it upon a fine slice of toasted rye that I had even considered that these keímenopterids could produce edible honey. A drop of amber nectar busied from the very words of</div> <div style="font-style:italic;"><div class="bt">Trattato sulla cognizione</div></div><div class="bt">, enticing and sweet.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">It was at once the most delectable and confounding thing I have ever tasted. The floral notes deepened by the chorus of linguistic flourishes upon the tongue. To savour a word is an intoxicating thing indeed, I fear I lack the poetic soul to do justice to such an experience.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Mister Koschevnikov and I have hastened to induct Mister Bienenstock into the ranks of our High Men with a great expediancy. It is imperative that we acquire more, and the means to make it. I am overcome with an unbearable need to taste the sweetness of a sonnet, by ear and by tongue, with </div><div style="text-decoration-line: line-through; float:left; clear:none; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; white-space:break-spaces;">my Roy </div><div class="bt"> Mister Koschevnikov on a warm summer evening.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">[...]eth of April, [...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Mister Koschevnekov surprised us with quite the spread at the Three Candles, a veritable smorgasbord as Mister Mjödson put it, and fine vintages they were. What a delightful man our Mister Koschevnekov, and what a delightful evening. I shall include below the experience of each honey, to the best of my limited hand.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">A reintroduction to the floral melody of the </div><div style="font-style:italic;"><div class="bt">Trattato sulla cognizione</div></div><div class="bt">, as fragrant and enticing as I remember.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Following such a familiar yet intoxicating flavour, I saw fit to sample the rustic and almost earthy tones born of the </div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Canterbury Tales</div></div><div class="bt">. It served well to cleanse my palate, but certainly did not ignite any great passion within me. An acquired taste perhaps, as Earl Chandler seemed particularly infatuated with it.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Seeking something a little more unusual, I turned to a product of our dear Roy's mother country, by his account it is a deeply controversial opera called </div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Victory Over the Sun</div></div><div class="bt">. I confess I could make neither heads nor tails of the text itself, perhaps I shall entreat Mister Koschevnekov to explain it to me at a later date. But the honey, good heavens the honey. Electrifying, it is the only word for it. The flavour of thrumming energy and coursing motion. It was like tasting the very essence of the future.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">A curious sort of aroma emanated from my next choice, a woody note perhaps, but with a certain dark tinge to it. The taste was almost indescribable. A thrilling edge, but with a haunting tone that lingered on the tongue long afterwards. If it tastes this exciting, I shall certainly have to read this </div><div style="font-style:italic;"><div class="bt">Dracula.</div></div><br><br> <div class="bt">But I saved the finest until last, I had been eyeing it since the events of the evening had been unveiled. Honeyed from a copy of Wordsworth's</div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">The Prelude</div></div><div class="bt">, the aroma was beyond my limited pen to convey. The essence of a man, his life and labours, so expertly crafted into verse, crystallized into an incomparably divine spread of amber. It tasted, I confess, of a kin with the feeling that rises in my chest to hear my dearest Roy laugh. I think, perhaps, it is good that I lack that poet's soul, if I did then the sight of his face as he tasted the honey of my craft would be the final note my heart could handle.</div></br></br></div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">[...]mber, Nin[...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Roy has taken receipt of a most troublesome tome. 'Twas apparently concocted by Bienenstock's cryptomantic compatriots, and contains many a comprehensively confounding and confuddling quip and quirk of querolous quandary. </div><br><br> <div class="bt">While the wily work of warped and weirdsome words weighs upon my wearisome cerebrum, Koschevnikov's close consideration of commensurate courses proposed the possibility of populating the pages with the peculiar pollinators we have grown so incandescently infatuated with.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">The subsequent concoction tickles and teases the tongue with a delightful dance of delectable dining experiences. Enamoured with the experience, I have entreated my dearest Koschevnikov to make merry again. Maychance I shall remodel the reading room, a rightful recepticle for our rapturous recreations and melifluous mellifera.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">The Twentieth [...]er, N[...]een.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I find with each sting of honeyed words, the confounding consequences of the Teutonic tome fade a little further. Alas, it seems, so too does the enrapturing ecstasy of prior stings fade, and so I have taken to larger servings with my tea.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">My dear Koschevnikov it seems has become similarly afflicted, though I fear he has found fit to engage in a more extensive relationship with our favoured friends. He makes time to converse at the Candles less and less as the weeks of autumn wear on. I ensure my schedule is free to receive him at any evening, but I worry perhaps my postings are not being delivered as replies have grown infrequent.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">[...]teenth of [...]ber, Ni[...]rteen.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">It has been, I believe, at least a fortnight since I last received a correspondence from my Roy, and I will confess that I am growing concerned. In the years I have known his sweet soul, this is far from the first time we have gone so long without speaking, but there is a different timbre to the silence this time. I hope that is a sign of my advancing age, a creeping of paranoia at the corners of my thinking. I pray it is.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I seem to be struggling more than usual to find the words to put to page. Perhaps my Roy is feeling the same, and that is why I have not heard from him.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I suppose I could speculate all night and be no closer to the truth, I shall endeavour to make a pilgrimage to his place of rest on the morrow and put these worries to bed. I hope that is not presumptive of me.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">I arrived this morning at the estate of Mister Koschevnikov. I do not have the words, and I fear it uncouth of me to describe his condition. Oh Roy, oh Roy, the sweet sight of you turned so sour in my heart. I wish I could have done more. I should have done more. I shall never clear the stain from my soul.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Before the current developments, Dr. A. P. Oidea believed the symptoms were commensurate with a certain confusion of the bodily defenses. "Allergy" was the word I believe he used. Now he stares, dumb as the rest of us, at the chimeric corpse. It is all such a blur to me, I confess my mind simply cannot accept the things I know to be true. I cannot bear to think of it longer, the visage of my dearest's face so silent awaits me with every timorous blink.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I have reclaimed the volumes of his personal libapiaries. Perhaps to remember him by. Perhaps to drown myself in sweet sorrows.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div class="bt">Following this transcription, the body of Roy Koschevnikov was exhumed and its DNA sequenced. Foreign genetic material was found interpolated between the human nucleotides.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">The work detailing the method of creating SCP-8335 was among those affected by the infestation. However, l'Emile had left a wax-sealed note detailing the procedure for introducing 'smoke' to a colony in order to pacify 8335 instances. This discovery allowed initial researchers to prevent further proliferation of the contained colonies.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Initial containment procedures called for affected works to be 'smoke' sealed, but regular containment checks revealed that a number of the colonies had become inert, unable to be woken up. As a result, updated containment procedures were introduced, only permitting 'smoking' as a countermeasure to breaches, with SCP-8335 affected works being sealed in standard containment lockers.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">After a series of containment breaches in the early 1970s, resulting in the total loss of several textual anomalies, authorisation was granted to the Hymenoptera Incarceration and Virtualization Endeavour. The goal of the project was to convert the extant SCP-8335 colonies into a format that could be more readily contained and observed, while reducing the risk of breaches threatening high priority textual anomalies. The resulting device, dubbed the Anomalous Paratextual Relocation Engine (or APRE), enabled the foundation to upload the colonies currently in containment to TbCs. The current containment procedures were drafted in conjunction with the Endeavour, and have reduced breach events by 16.46%.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold;text-align:center"><div class="bt">Addendum:</div></div><div class="bt">Project 'Memedovukha'</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Informed by l'Emile's experience with 'honey', Dr. Jenrick proposed that, when 'harvested' from a text with memetic effects, SCP-8335 will impart some measure of resistance to those same memetic effects. He subsequently submitted a research proposal to investigate the extent and field applicability of this effect.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">On 6/1/2004, Project 'Memedovukha' was authorised to research the apparent memetic inoculation effect imparted by SCP-8335-C. </div><br><br> <div style="border: 2px rgb(253 214 187) dashed;background-color: rgb(255 242 209);padding: 10px 10px;width: 90%;margin-inline: auto;height: auto;"> <b><div class="bt">Phase 1 - Extraction:</div></b><div class="bt"> Initial trials were performed by 'smoking' the infected page, and then scraping the 'hive' character with a laboratory spatula, a slow and tedious process that was swiftly deemed unsuitable for the long term needs of the project. While experimentation with a heavily modified radial honey extractor significantly improved per-hour outputs of usable SCP-8335-C, further refinement of the system was abandoned due to an unsustainably high rate of hive extinctions.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Ultimately, building on the extant functions of the APREs used in containment and transport, a specialised application was developed, officially dubbed Jar_Muzen.cab. The application functions in a three part process, draining the 'hive' character, relocating the drained 8335-C instances to a blank page, and automatically printing the resulting file. Upon printing, processing of the printed material is handled by Aristaeus.aic in order to minimise the risk of memetic cross-contamination. The Jar_Muzen.cab procedure passed all efficiency benchmarks with regards to production quantity and hive retention rates, and the project was cleared to enter Phase 2.</div><br><br> <b><div class="bt">Phase 2 - Refinement:</div></b><div class="bt">Based on the information retrieved from the journals of Raymond l'Emile, a risk of melinaphylaxis and subsequent Melinadelian interpolation presents at higher doses or prolonged usage of 8335-C, and so a method for increasing potency without accompanying risk of allergic reaction was deemed necessary.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Chemical analyses of 8335-C revealed a primary composition of keímenosaccharides,</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 3;">.</span><span class="fncon">A semantic sugar analogue</span> </div><div class="bt"> Derived from this understanding, a process of fermentation through the introduction of a thaumaturgically enhanced brewer's yeast classified as </div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">verbumyces medo</div></div><div class="bt"> was devised. The resultant syllavylcarbinol</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 4;">.</span><span class="fncon">A semantic alcohol analogue</span><span> </span></div><div class="bt"> proved to retain the inoculative effect of 8335-C, while dramatically decreasing cases of melinaphylaxis during animal trials. Further refinement of the process brought lethality rates below target rates, and Phase 3 was authorised.</div><br><br> <b><div class="bt">Phase 3 - Human Testing:</div></b><div class="bt">Phase 3 of Project 'Memedovukha' is currently ongoing, and is focused on human trials of the completed Class-b targeted memeadic inoculant. The primary goal is to demonstrate the safety and efficacy in protecting researchers and field agents from a selected group of memetic hazards. Included within this page is an APRE window, which will allow transfer of incubated SCP-8335-A instances from the Hive @lpha page to a locally hosted copy of the articles detailing the selected hazards.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Once each page has been swarmed, an initial batch of Class-b inoculant will be produced to perform a double-blind study in order to prove its effectiveness and viability for field deployment.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style=" background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); color: rgb(221, 221, 119);border: 2px solid rgb(170, 170, 85);font-family: 'Share Tech Mono', monospace;margin-top: 3rem;margin-bottom: 1.5rem;padding: 1em;"> <div style="font-size:large; font-weight:bold">Footnotes:</div><br> <a><div class="bt">1</div></a><div class="bt">As per directive from the Pataphysics Department.</div><br> <a><div class="bt">2</div></a><div class="bt">Binomial name of the European Honey Bee.</div><br> <a><div class="bt">3</div></a><div class="bt"> A semantic sugar analogue </div><br> <a><div class="bt">4</div></a><div class="bt">A semantic alcohol analogue</div><br> </div> </div> <div id="ToasterArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "426" style="display:none;"> <div id = "ToasterBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div><br> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnToaster" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('ToasterArticle','queenReturnToaster','ToasterBase',toasterHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border:solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <div class="hive" style="font-weight:bold">#</div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Object</div><div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Class:</div><div class = "bt">Euclidj</div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Special</div><div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Containment</div><div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Procedures:</div> <div class="bt"> I am to be sealed in a chamber with no windows through which I may be viewed. The door to my chamber must have a label completely unrelated to my designation or identity, in order to prevent unintended spread of my primary effect. Only Level 3 and above personnel are to know of my presence, and particularly of my properties. Assigned personnel are to be rotated out on a monthly basis to prevent contamination by my secondary effect. Psychiatric evaluation is mandatory at the end of the month. If personnel are deemed unaffected, they may be re-assigned to me no less than four months after their last rotation with me. Any affected personnel are to be given a Class C amnestic and transferred to a different site.</div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Description:</div><div class="bt"> Hello, I am SCP-426. I must be introduced this way in order to prevent ambiguity. I am an ordinary toaster, able to toast bread when supplied with electricity. However, when any human being mentions me, they inadvertently refer to me in the first person. Despite all attempts, there is yet to be a way to speak or write about me in the third person. When in my continuous presence for over two months, individuals begin to identify themselves as a toaster. Unless forcibly restrained, these people will ultimately harm themselves in their attempts to emulate my standard functions.</div></br></br> <div class="bt">I was discovered in the home of the ████████ family after the gruesome deaths of three of its members. I had been given to the younger Mr. and Mrs. ████████ as a wedding gift. No card or any other identifying markings had been found on my box. Approximately two months after the family received me, fire crews were dispatched to the home due to an electrical fire. The younger Mrs. ████████ died from the electric discharge that she had caused when attempting to devour an electric socket. The other two victims had died shortly before the fire occurred. The elder Mrs. ████████ had gorged herself with nearly 10 kg of bread before her stomach burst and she died of internal bleeding. The younger Mr. ████████ died of severe blood loss after attempting [REDACTED] with me. The sole survivor was the elder Mr. ████████ who was suffering from severe malnutrition. He stated that he had inserted some bread a week prior and was still waiting for the toast to pop out.</div></br></br> <div class="bt">I was confiscated by the Foundation after police noted my unusual properties. A Class C amnestic was administered to the affected officers.</div></br></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-1:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/1</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/1 was asked to describe what he believed was contained in my chamber. He was not informed about my identity or properties.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/1 stated, "I'm probably some huge monster holed up in there. That's what you guys have all over the place, right?" D/426/1 remained oblivious to his use of the first-person pronoun.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-2:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/2</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/2 was placed in my chamber and given regular meals through a dispenser. No communication with D/426/2 was permitted. Multiple cameras were situated in the chamber, positioned so that I was outside of their field of vision, but allowing constant observation of D/426/2. We remained sealed until my secondary effect manifested in the subject. I was bolted to the floor so that I could not be moved into a camera's view.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">After 45 days of isolation, D/426/2 wrapped his arm around me and began conversing with me, stating that we were brothers. D/426/2 never deviated from using the first-person plural when speaking with me. Subject was terminated one hour after this event. It is theorized that the isolation accelerated the progression of my secondary effect.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-3:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/3</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt"> A screw was removed from me and shown to D/426/3 who was asked to describe it. D/426/3 was not informed about my identity or properties.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/3 referred to it as "my screw". Consistent with Experiment 426-1, the subject was oblivious of his use of the first person in his description. This suggests that, even if I were destroyed, my effects would still be inherent in my remains.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-4:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/4</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/4 was placed in isolation in a cell adjacent to my chamber, to be observed until my secondary effect manifests.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">No effects appeared. D/426/4 was terminated 90 days after the start of the experiment.</div><br> <div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Thank God there are some limits to my effects. A lot of us were really starting to get worried about me.</div></div><div class="bt">Dr. C███████</div><br> </div> </div> <div id="AllisonArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "2565" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "AllisonBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnAllison" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('AllisonArticle','queenReturnAllison','AllisonBase',allisonHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border:solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart #</div></div><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Keter</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">Until such a time in which</div><a style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt"> Experimental Cross-Containment Proposal Allison Eckhart/2719</div></a><div class="bt"> or </div><a style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt"> Neutralisation Proposal Allison Eckhart</div></a><div class="bt"> can be enacted, Allison Eckhart and Allison Eckhart instances are currently contained in separate Biohazardous Allison Eckhart Containment Cells at Bio Site-Allison Eckhart. As per standard biosecurity procedures, Allison Eckharts entering the containment cells of Allison Eckharts are to wear Level Allison ECKHART suits in order to avoid becoming contaminated with Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Currently, Allison Eckhart's Allison Eckharts are to be stored in sealed steel containers and buried underground at Secure Disposal Area Allison Eckhart to avoid contamination or containment breach of Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart is Agent Allison Eckhart, a 31-year-old woman who was formerly a field operative for the Department of Analytics. Aside from a minor excess of sodium concentration in its Allison Eckhart, Allison Eckhart does not appear to possess any physical anomalies. Prior to containment, Allison Eckhart had worked for 5 years as a Level 2 Anomalous Object Recovery agent. Allison Eckhart did not possess anomalous properties during this time period.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Allison Eckhart is an autosynecdochic semantic pointer, believed to be the result of an artificially induced conceptual fractal. Because of this, Allison Eckhart's Allison Eckharts also possess the property of "Allison Eckhart" and are thus perceived as Allison Eckhart. As an example, simply attempting to take Allison Eckharts from Allison Eckhart has led to over three hundred complaints to the Ethics Committee from Allison Eckharts.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum Allison Eckhart-1:</div></div><div class="bt"> Allison Eckharts of AEoI-139 ("Allison Eckhart") carried out an attack on Secure Disposal Area Allison Eckhart, presumably for the purpose of obtaining Allison Eckhart. Due to the small size of the Allison Eckhart, it is believed that all Allison Eckharts were contaminated in the process. During the attack, 36 Allison Eckharts and 13 Allison Eckharts were also contaminated. Their Allison Eckharts have been incinerated to avoid further spread of Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Site Director Allison Eckhart has expressed deepest Allison Eckharts over the Allison Eckharts involved in the incident. The Allison Eckharts of the Allison Eckharts involved have been given appropriate reimbursement for Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum Allison Eckhart-2:</div></div><div class="bt">Embedded Foundation assets in meteorology offices report multiple Allison Eckhart formations over the Pacific Allison Eckhart, suggesting the successful atmospheric dispersal of Allison Eckhart. As a result, over 100 liters of Allison Eckhart has been dispersed over the coastline of Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Following continuing Allison Eckhart casualties due to ingestion of Allison Eckhart-contaminated Allison Eckhart, a Broken Allison Eckhart scenario has been established due to the high-publicity nature of the Allison Eckharts. It is estimated that at Allison Eckhart's current rate of Allison Eckhart emission, a total AE-Class Allison Eckhart Allison-Eckhart Breathability Scenario will occur within 40 years.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Plans for off-Allison Eckhart evacuation of the remaining non-Allison Eckhart population have already been set up, although the Global Allison Eckhart Coalition has also proposed a plan for destruction of Allison Eckhart. It is believed that this proposal would carry a non-zero risk of an AE-Class Total Allison Eckhart Failure Scenario along with the neutralisation of Allison Eckhart.</div><br> </div> </div> <div id="LibraryArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "2602" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "LibraryBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnLibrary" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('LibraryArticle','queenReturnLibrary','LibraryBase',libraryHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <br><br> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Notice:</div></div> <div class="bt">This file possesses cognitohazardous properties. While reading this text is not believed to be harmful, comprehension and interpretation of the text will be negatively affected. Please exercise discretion when reading this document.</div> <br> </div> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item #</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Library Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Former</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">SCP-2602 has been acquired under the cover story that it used to be a library. Large bushes and trees have been planted around the property in order to obscure SCP-2602. Access is denied to non-personnel. Amnestics have been administered to the town in which SCP-2602, a former library, is located.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">All known online references to SCP-2602 and the fact that it used to be a library have been removed. Filters pertaining to the linguistic markers of SCP-2602's effects have been added to Foundation web-crawling software in order to flag text that potentially pertains to SCP-2602 for review. All known physical documentation related to SCP-2602 has been identified and destroyed.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Foundation documentation pertaining to SCP-2602 is to be edited as much as possible for readability by personnel with no familiarity with the anomaly. Typically, 40% of all references to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library can be removed.</div><br><br> <figure style="width:50%; clear:none; border: solid black 1px; box-shadow:2px 2px #EEEEEE, -2px -2px #EEEEEE;margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom: -5px;"><img src="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-2602/library.jpg" alt="A picture of a former library"/><figcaption style="background-color:#EEEEEE">SCP-2602</figcaption></figure> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt">SCP-2602 is a building that, from 1921-06-08 to 1988-04-29, was a library.</div><br><div class="bt">SCP-2602 is located in █████ ███████, England, and developed its anomalous properties in October of 2004.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">When communicating any information about SCP-2602, subjects are compelled to make frequent reference to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library. The exact wording and nature of these references are mostly determined by the author and context, but always unambiguously communicate this information. Texts referring to SCP-2602 can have these references removed to a limited degree by subjects who have little knowledge of SCP-2602 outside of the fact that it used to be a library. The limited compulsion to allow these references to go unedited has hindered attempts at developing automated processes to remove these references.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Any information regarding SCP-2602 is also anomalous. Subjects exposed to communications regarding SCP-2602 will identify the fact that it used to be a library as the primary causal element behind any number of properties of or observations about it. This is proportional to the extent that said information contains references to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library. While subjects will develop false beliefs to support these irrational causal linkages, they do not generalize and pose no general risk to cognition — for example, while several subjects have posited that the effects of gravity within SCP-2602 are a result of it having been a library but no longer serving that purpose, they do not hold this belief with regards to other buildings that used to be libraries.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Subjects are incapable of communicating, directly or otherwise, any information pertaining to SCP-2602's use between its time as a library and the development of its anomalous properties. When prompted to do so, they will instead insistently and repeatedly refer to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library. Due to this, and the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library, it has been very difficult to determine what, if anything, occurred in SCP-2602 from 1988 to 2004.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum 2602-1:</div></div><div class="bt">Summary of a survey of SCP-2602, which used to be a library, conducted by Agents Roderick and Casey on December 09, 2004. Unreadable segments have been excised entirely. See also:</div><div class="bt">SCP-2602 Photographic Evidence.</div><br><br> <div style=" padding: 10px; width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px;margin-inline:auto"><div class="bt">While SCP-2602's layout is generally appropriate for a former library, it is inconsistent with obtained blueprints from the local government and testimony from past patrons. It is thus assumed that SCP-2602 used to be a library. Most notably, SCP-2602 contains an extensive subterranean component of the kind generally found in former libraries.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-2602 experienced extensive fire damage on the same day that it developed anomalous properties. Consultation with actuarial tables has shown little deviation from what is expected of fire damage to former libraries. However, some of the debris exhibited elevated levels of Dewey radiation</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 1;">.</span><span class="fncon">A type of radiation common to buildings that used to be libraries. It is typically only emitted by damaged library patrons.</span> </div><div class="bt">, preventing access to several shrines that were likely used to assist SCP-2602's reading groups when it was a library.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">A number of advanced book-sorting machines were found, though long-term storage in a former library has rendered them inoperable. Restraints used by libraries to hold patrons with overdue books were similarly damaged, apparently violently, by this storage.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-2602's hazardous waste pit, whose presence is expected in what used to be a library, was cordoned off. However, in the process, exbibliothetic fluctuations in the waste resulted in Agent Casey suffering several major flesh wounds which later proved to be fatal. Notably, SCP-2602 used to be a library.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Conclusions:</div></div><div class="bt"> As evidenced by the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library, and was formerly a library, it is probable that SCP-2602 used to be a library. It is likely that, shortly after it ceased to be a library, SCP-2602 was previously a library. This likely served to highlight the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library and obscure the SCP-2602 used to be a library.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="font-size:large; font-weight:bold">Footnotes:</div><br> <a><div class="bt">¹</div></a><div class="bt">A type of radiation common to buildings that used to be libraries. It is typically only emitted by damaged library patrons.</div> </div> </div> <div id="VerbosityArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "6430" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "VerbosityBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnVerbosity" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('VerbosityArticle','queenReturnVerbosity','VerbosityBase',verbosityHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <br><br> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div class="bt">Notice: The following file has been received as Emergency Priority by the Final Department. A Sequence Breaker has been deployed to aid survivors.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">This information is to be Classified Level 5 until SCP-6430 is successfully Fettered to prevent spread of its effects.</div> <br> </div> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">#</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Number:</div></div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430/SPIRAL</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Object Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Keter</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">Containment compromised.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430 cannot be contained through any conventional means.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">If encountering an individual under the primary effect of SCP-6430, one must flee.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">One should not engage in any form of communication with those affected, as doing so is liable to spread SCP-6430 further.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Due to its effects, containment of SCP-6430 is to be orchestrated by personnel of the Final Department — this is to include any revisions to documentation for legibility purposes as well as personnel handling/termination.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt"> The anomaly in question is a self-aware metaphysical construct thought to intersect to some degree with the noosphere — the collective realm of human thought — which constitutes both an informational and memetic hazard: whenever SCP-6430 is written about, discussed, or otherwise referenced meaningfully, the individual(s) or media mentioning it become subject to its direct effects.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430 causes an irreversible state of ever-expanding expressions, articulations, dialogues, dictations, observations, and annotations in the communications of those under its effect — this is Stage 1 — it can be readily noted that such communications are modeled precisely according to a Fibonacci sequence; though those under its effect may opt not to speak, the slightest utterance (such as a cough), has been found to be enough to begin an uncontrollable spout of verbiage that ends only once the amount of words communicated reaches the next number in that individual's sequence.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">During the initial outbreak which led to its discovery within a Foundation Site, it was thought that verbalizing would lead to unconsciousness or death of the affected past fourteen to fifteen iterations of the sequence owing to dehydration — this was found to not be case, as it was discovered that Stage 2 begins sometime between iterations ten and twelve; characterized by the esophagus beginning to internally twist and moisten (the physiological change has been noted as being incredibly painful by those who actively dictated their experience), the change only serves to promote lengthier diatribes, not inhibit them in any way, shape, or form; further, there is a distinct dimorphism in those using the written word to communicate: the fingers of each hand (if working ambidextrously), or of their dominant hand (if writing using a single hand) will experience a softening of bone/twisting digits.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">If one attempts to communicate with someone affected by SCP-6430, and at any point use a single-word phrase or statement, they too will come under its effect; this has allowed SCP-6430 to spread unchecked through the Memetic and Infohazard Research laboratory of our site; including personnel with high Cognitive Resistance Value ratings and twelve specialists from The Department of Miscommunications, the latter of whom were able to deduce SCP-6430's general effects and triggers, leading to a rapid quarantine under Blackout Protocol (though twenty-seven researchers have been affected thus far during attempts to discuss and discern the full nature of SCP-6430); the advancement of several personnel's' sequences beyond a twentieth iteration has allowed us to observe Stage 3: which is characterized by a steady reduction of coherency as may be the case with non-anomalous logorrhea, coupled with further physical alterations that serve to elongate the esophagus, tongue, diaphragm, and other internals alongside the fingers and hands, into a spiraling corkscrew shape (it should be noted that, again, this does not tend to inhibit further communication, but instead facilitates it) allowing for sufferers to continue expressing SCP-6430's effects to the detriment of everything else; they will only continue to further twist and tighten until the entire body has become affected, with full-body conversion being accompanied by outbursts of rapid glossolalia: this in turn further fuels the conversion process ever further, with most personnel beyond saving.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430 is able to effect and spread to targets who attempt to make negative statements designed to circumvent the topic of the entity specifically, as well as methods to discuss it indirectly through use of methods such as implication, allusion, insinuation and parable (through which it was able to spread to most Miscommunications personnel on-site); during attempts to terminate the affected, it was noticed that euthanization attempts past Stage 2 are ineffective — destroying the brain of an individual at this point (I've seen it happen myself) will only cause the body to exposit uncontrollably, rapidly bringing it to the next stage of development, winding them up like springs with lolling tongues and grasping, grasping fingers; as such, the current model of handling SCP-6430 is to self-isolate and await assistance, leading to the creation of this file — I've managed to avoid catching SCP-6430, and so have elected to document the anomaly, troublesome as it is quickly becoming (I am being pushed about as I type due to digital elongation — the longer each finger becomes as they uncontrollably hover above the keyboard, the more I must reorient my body); alas, I have to reign this tangent in: in the operating theatre beneath my position is Patient Zero (Researcher Alec Meyer), who has progressed to an unknown point in the sequence (though the last official record placed them at iteration thirty-nine); rendered unrecognizable and illegible, no thicker than twine, they corkscrew every which way, bellowing non-stop, writhing about and poking their surroundings (looking for an opening or exit perhaps) with what was some hours ago their tongue and I imagine still is (albeit reduced to a fine needlepoint), with which it had skewered the D-Class we'd sent in to terminate him — it has swept up once or twice in my direction, poking at the ballistic glass, prodding with its point, but although it knows I'm here, I suspect that it understands that I am already afflicted, and so it makes no hostile movements, only pausing to acknowledge me as kin (or perhaps as a lesser, I've only just begun this journey, after all — it would seem there is so much more in store — again, I apologize for my distraction, the flow of words is beginning to become hard to command.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum:</div></div><div class="bt">Took some time to make it through the site in my current state but I have reached soihs huop the security room and can see that there are many surviving personnel who have either remained silent or are exhibiting enough self-control during their first phase so hopefully rescue efforts will be fruitful — though unfortunately there are over a dozen personnel who have progressed to a physical frame and behavior reminiscent of Patient Zero; I would have to classify this as a distinct Phase 5 — these individuals weave throughout the site, ensnaring others and maiming them in order to elicit an audible response and trigger the victim's next sequence, as victims are forced to progress ever deeper, they begin to entwine with their captors, running along them like a vine ( once thin enough), where it snakes up to the front-end of their captor, interlocking tongues — pairings in this state, across the board, do not attempt to hunt any further, and will continue to lock tongues and babble down each others throats as they seethe and distend and I shouldn't want it but they hold each other so tight I cannot imagine what it could be like to have someone who won't let you go while you both grow it's making me warm just thinking about it — oh, this is new: the first pairing I noted (I could not begin to guess at who the assailant once was, but it had captured Junior Researcher Milano — she'd tried to skirt by while it was prodding in the cafeteria, but she'd brushed its side and caught its attention) have been working to bring their tail-ends up to meet their mouths for the past five or so minutes (though highly malleable, the hallway they're resting in is restrictive); as I've been typing they released one-another's tongues — with each inserting theirs into the others tail-end — and now they're reorienting into a rough approximation of a lemniscate; checking the audio feed of the sector has revealed to me that they're continuing to communicate as they pass through (or perhaps consume) each-other; it is now impossible to tell one from the other as they writhe, and with the muffling of definite speech, impossible to hear them as more than a single voice; I know intrinsically that I would be rejected were I to try and join them — they've found what they were searching forever in my belly in my throat and in yours too but I'd need a match and god I don't want to be the odd man out while everyone around me experiences bliss and infinity; with the loss of the D-Class to Patient Zero that leaves an odd number of personnel in the lockdown quadrant so I do have to act before I'm left without a partner for this next stage (please save us I don't want this) but if I ghdh then maybe ztrect as well, which should be the go-to strategy to regain composure and avoid their fate but my training can only take me so far and I fear that there may be no way to reverse what has already been wopojsi, as such I will need to use this clarity to send this missive outwards, ever reaching, never ending, kcnov ao deep need, a realization of perfection and continuance (if you listen close enough jhso which tickles in unfamiliar places) so when you get here start with them — they're going to be looking for a partner (I'll have one first, won't be ldoihds) if you let them too close — or maybe you will find me, in which case I would love just love to let you in on the secret.</div><br><br> </div> </div> <div id="FFArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "8102" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "FFBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnFF" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('FFArticle','queenReturnFF','FFBase',ffHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <br><br> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Notice:</div></div> <div class="bt">This file possesses cognitohazardous properties. While reading this text is not believed to be harmful, comprehension and interpretation of the text will be negatively affected. Please exercise discretion when reading this document.</div> <br> </div> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item #</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Object Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Keter</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">Physical visitation of SCP-8102 is no longer permitted for civilians or Foundation staff. All instances of SCP-8102-Y, including this document (SCP-8102-Y461), must be stored within secure archives, with copying or transmission not permitted outside of testing. Alteration of instances of SCP-8102-Y, including this document, is only permitted after inspection from a member of SCP-8102's research division.</div><br><br> <figure style="width:50%; clear:none; border: solid black 1px; box-shadow:2px 2px #EEEEEE, -2px -2px #EEEEEE;margin-inline:auto"><img src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8102/8102b.jpg" alt="A small building in a forest with a dragon sculpture"/><figcaption style="background-color:#EEEEEE; font-weight:bold;">SCP-8102-Y192, a photographic instance of SCP-8102-Y demonstrating characteristic visual deformation</figcaption></figure> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt">SCP-8102 is an object possessing anomalous infohazardous properties that comprehensively and consistently affect all objects which record, describe or otherwise represent the original object, transforming them into instances of SCP-8102-Y. The physical characteristics and nature of SCP-8102 are otherwise not conclusively known.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Instances of SCP-8102-Y retain their original medium and physical properties, but become visually, linguistically and/or semantically distorted to the extent that readers are unable to accurately recognize or distinguish any information. SCP-8102-Y instances, including this document, possess an additional infohazardous trait affecting any observer, causing them to interpret (or insist that they can interpret) the content of SCP-8102-Y legibly.</div><br><br> <hr /> <figure style="width:50%; clear:none; border: solid black 1px; box-shadow:2px 2px #EEEEEE, -2px -2px #EEEEEE;margin-inline:auto"><img src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8102/8102.jpg" alt="several buildings with roofs of mushrooms, a faux stone bridge, and a person washing clothes outside"/><figcaption style="background-color:#EEEEEE; font-weight:bold;">SCP-8102-Y238</figcaption></figure> <div class="bt">SCP-8102-Y238 provides an example of visual interference in the form of altered colouration, substantial blurring, what appear to be compression artifacts and the addition of unrelated images. These factors collectively make it impossible to distinguish or identify any of the original elements of the photograph. Most viewers of SCP-8102-Y238 falsely report being able to observe a largely undistorted photographic image.</div><br><br> <hr /> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">SCP-8102-Y085 Sample:</div></div> <br> <br> <div class="bt">The Fountainferry Enchanted Village is a park constructed in a forested area of Fountainferry, New Hampshire. The park consists of a walking path adjacent to multiple life-sized dioramas of fairy/folk tale scenes and other fantasy imagery, sometimes including animatronic models and characters. During operating hours, The Fountainferry Enchanted Village also features costumed performers reenacting parts of popular stories at scheduled intervals.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div class="bt">This excised portion of SCP-8102-Y085 provides an example of textual interference in the form of transposed or removed words or letters, translation into multiple known and unknown written languages and the addition of irrelevant or contradictory statements. These factors collectively make the content and meaning of the original text impossible to discern. Most readers of SCP-8102-Y085 falsely report being able to read a coherent and plausible set of sentences.</div><br><br> <hr /> <div class="bt">Depictions of SCP-8102, as described by interpreted SCP-8102-Y instances, vary widely and are inconsistent across individuals and instances. Noted examples include the following:</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is a tourist attraction in the Northeast United States featuring fairy tale-related imagery, which cannot be accurately or intelligibly described.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is a fantasy-themed amusement park located in Fountainferry, New Hampshire, possessing direct and indirect infohazardous traits.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is "The Fountainferry Enchanted Village", a tourist attraction in New England that causes infohazardous distortions in all associated records.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is a theme park in New Hampshire based on European folklore, which anomalously affects writings or images related to it.</div><br><br> <br><br> <div class="bt">All pieces of information interpreted from instances of SCP-8102-Y, including this document, are inaccurate and incorrect without exception.</div> </div> </div> <div id="page-content" class="outerText" style="display:none;"> <form oninput="outputOfText.innerHTML = parseStringToSeeIfAllRequiredCharactersAreInIt(fakepost.value); textToSubmit =fakepost.value;" id="form"> <p> To make sure this works correctly:<br> - Write in HTML coding<br> - For the sake of safety, anything that could execute javascript will be automatically deleted<br> - If missing any characters required for the bees to work properly, it will not save<br> - Press save button to execute<br> - Press "reset sandbox" to pull up this input and try again<br> - The # should be at the end of whatever line it's on <br> - Use the <br> tag to break the line<br> - Any text you want to put an active character in, encapsulate like this:<br> <code> < div class="bt" > Whatever text you want, here < /div > </code> <br> </p> <input class="text form-control" style="font-weight:bold; font-size: 1.04rem; display: inline-block;" value="Sandbox" readonly> <img src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-3309/buttons.png"> <div><textarea rows="10" style="width:95%;" id="fakepost" name="fakepost" wrap="hard" ><div class="bt">ABABXb</div><br> - this "br" is a line break! <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">This is bold text!</div></div> Here is a table! <table> <tr><th><div class="bt">Table head 1</div></th><th><div class="bt">Table Head 2</div></th><th><div class="bt">Why do you want to make a table?</div></th></tr> <tr><td><div class="bt">#</div></td><td><div class="bt">Hive</div></td><td><div class="bt">Because it's clinical! </div></td></tr> </table> </textarea> </div> <output style="color:red;"name="outputOfText">A</output> <div class="change-textarea-size"> <a href="javascript:;">-</a> <a href="javascript:;">+</a> </div> <div class="edit-help-34"> Help: <a target="_blank" href="">wiki text quick reference code snippets collection</a> </div> <table> <tr> <td> <span style="width: 25%">Short description of changes:</span> <textarea rows="2" style="width: 80%;" id="fakepost2" wrap="hard"> </textarea> </td> <td> <div style="background-color: #FFFFFF; border-color: light-gray;"> You have an exclusive 15-minute lock that will stop others editing this page while you are working. The lock expires in <b id="countdown"></b> seconds of inactivity. </div> </td> </tr> </table> <div class="buttons alignleft"> <input class="btn" value="Cancel" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Show Changes" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Preview" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Save & Continue" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Save " type="button" onclick="saveButton()"> </div> </form> <button id = "resetSandbox" onclick="resetSandbox()"> Reset Sandbox?</button> <div class="outerText" id="finalOuterHousing"> <div id="finalQueenReturn" class="queenReturn" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('finalOuterHousing','finalQueenReturn','SandboxBase',customHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;min-width:800px;min-height:100px;">Release the bs!</div> <div id = "SandboxBase" class="newDocBeeBase" style="display:none;"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnSandbox" style="display:none;" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('finalOutput','queenReturnSandbox','SandboxBase',customHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div id="finalOutput" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "0" style="display:none;"> </div> </div> </div> <button style="position:fixed; right: 3.4em; top: 5.9vh; border: dotted 2px #875a302b; background: #d5ac2f; font-family: 'Oxanium'; color: #6b4f08a6; display:none;" onclick="openMail()" id="mailButton">1 new Message!</button> <div id="emailList" style="position: fixed;display: none;top: 2.5em;left:calc(2.4em + 2vw);width: calc(100vw - 8em);height: 77.5%;background-color: #fec564ba;overflow: scroll;border-color: rgb(95 90 66);border-width: .25em;border-style: solid; overflox-x:hidden; }"> <button style="border: dotted 2px #875a302b; background: #d5ac2f; color: #6b4f08a6;margin:2px;position:fixed" onclick="closeMail()">X</button> <p> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Hive Work Ahead (I sure hope it does) </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Hello [ADD NAME OF NEW HIRE]!<br><br> Hive work can seem daunting on your first try, but don't worry! Just like in your training exercises, all you need to do is wait around until the regent emerges and toss it into the APRE.<br><br> Not sure what that is? That's not good, but lucky for you, the SCP-8335 file is right in front of you. Feel free to read away, but be careful not to nudge any workers while you're still catching up!<br><br> Good luck,<br> Dr. G Jenrick<br> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonus" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Sweet! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> The printing caught me off guard, but I managed to grab the page and squeeze out some honey before anyone saw.<br><br> Didn't have enough time to toast the bread, but the honey was quite sweet, though not overbearing- more whimsical in nature. As I sit here, its left me with a soft buzzing sensation vaguely nipping at the edges of my senses, slowly fading down.<br><br> Can't wait for you to try this stuff- beats refined by miles! </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto; margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/LoneToast.jpg" alt="A piece of bread with honey in the shape of an h on it"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "newPageMail" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Nice work! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Hello [ADD NAME OF NEW HIRE]!<br><br> Congrats on a job well done!<br><br> Feel free to watch the anomaly for a bit, but don't stare too hard! They might go and migrate into the reflection in your eyes!<br><br> Just kidding!<br><br> Haha,<br> Dr. G Jenrick </div> <br> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusCustom" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: b u </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> I'm glad you got to play in their little sandbox. So are the bees. This honey felt granular, like the bees don't quite know how to interact with the new ecosystem yet. So there's undertones, deep beneath all you poured into it, of stress, but also excitement. And slightly below the sweetness of it all, bitterness. Because they can sense this sand painting won't last.<br><br> I'm afraid the honey didn't last long either. My tongue wouldn't let it. From the flavor, I can't wait to see what you made. Maybe a screenshot or video, if they'll let you?<br><br> Anyway, I felt inspired to make this sculpture. You can taste my work, as I have tasted yours, next time you come around. </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/Bee%20Sculpture.jpg" alt="A simple sculpture of a bee made out of food"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusToaster" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: I am a Toast-er </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> You've caught me prepared- I grabbed the page right as the printer spit it out and squeezed it onto my ready slice (toasted to perfection).<br><br> The taste- I think I'd been a bit too hasty. It was spicy! Unexpected, but also not in a regular, prickly way. Instead it was like the honey was itself rising to temperature in my mouth, and I couldn't spit it out- so it sat there, burning, like molten sugar. That hot sensation tempered the sweetness quite a bit, and what's more, I was left with an unpleasant charred aftertaste.<br><br> I've left you your toasted slice (if you even want to try it anymore) and an extra, untoasted- might be better that way. </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/TwoToast.jpg" alt="A piece of toast and a piece of bread, each with honey in the shape of an h on them"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusAllison" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected]<br> | Subject: Me </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> For the first time in a long time, I tasted myself.<br><br> My foibles and follies, my joys and jubilations, undiluted by semantics. My personhood, detached from my name. It was my essence. Yes, an essence of my personhood, in all its fullness. One, perfect moment.<br><br> And as soon as it was there is was gone- gone, but present so that it echoed over and over in my mind. A cacophony that lost all meaning, all connotation blurred in the multitude.<br><br> It was not mine.<br><br> It wasn't.<br><br> And it isn't hers anymore, It hasn't been for so long.<br><br> But I felt it, that's what it was- in that bite.<br><br> Someone else's "Thank You " </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/BeeCrumbs.jpg" alt="A plate with crumbs in the shape of an h"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusLibrary" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Ew! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> I think you might have done something wrong.<br><br> The page printed out fine, the honey came off easily, and it looked completely normal, but once I took a taste it just was- I can't describe it as anything but rancid. Dry, not at all sweet, somehow pulpy even though it looked clear- all of these things, disgusting as they are, and in a way that felt too extreme for what little honey I'd eaten.<br><br> The aftertaste was mildly sweet, at least.<br><br> Don't try this one. It's gone off- or something. </div> <br> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusVerbosity" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Spiraling </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Hm. I. This one. I'm not sure. I think it is good. At the very least it's an interesting taste. I wouldn't say I quite have the words to describe it though really. When I grabbed the page the patterning was somewhat disquieting but I squeezed it onto my half of the bagel anyway. Now I've taken a taste and it feels as though that pattern has worked its way into my brain and more than reveal information its spun me into a spiraling long-winded mess of words. Washing over me, this feeling of aimless tangents and unsatisfying twinges, like walking down a hallway arced slightly off to the side and it's always arcing to the side but you never reach the end, it just gets thinner and thinner and the feeling dampens until you can barely feel the sensation at all.<br><br> Had to take a breather there, sorry.<br><br> Your half is waiting if you want it. </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/toasterBagel.jpg" alt="A bagel with cream cheese and honey in the shape of an h on it"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusFF" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Thy eyes deceive! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Scraped against the page you printed, and for I moment I thought I'd grabbed the wrong one. It came off- eventually, but it was a strange viscosity, slightly off color, and really just all around off in a way that wasn't at all appetizing.<br><br> When I took a bite however, everything was fine. Perhaps a bit musty, somewhat oversweet, but comfortable. I'd equate it to a sweet from a fairy tale, fanciful, though you can tell its long worn age.<br><br> Here's yours- I swear it tastes better than it looks! </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/weirdToast" alt="Two pieces of toast tinted orange with multiple of the letter h visible stretched along their surfaces."></div> </div> </div> </p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="color:#2e2e2e; font-weight:bold"> TbC-V6 </div> </div> </div> <script> function removeIdleAnimation(id) { document.getElementById(id).classList.remove("idle");} function smokeIterate() { let sm = document.getElementById("smokeTutorial"); sm.classList.add("smokeStage1"); window.setTimeout( ()=>{document.getElementById("kipling").style.display="block"; sm.style.display="none";},5000); } var smokeLeft = 11; const smokeList = []; function smokeClick(id) { if (smokeList.indexOf(id) == -1) { smokeList.push(id); document.getElementById(id).classList.add("smokeStage2"); window.setTimeout(()=>{document.getElementById(id).style.display="none"},2000); smokeLeft = smokeLeft-1; document.getElementById("smokeLeft").innerHTML = " Remaining: "+ smokeLeft; if (smokeLeft === 0) { window.setTimeout(()=>{document.getElementById("smokeTutorialHousing").style.display="none"; document.getElementById("finalSmoke").style.display="block";},2000);} } } function smokeFinal() { document.getElementById('finalSmoke').style.display='none'; document.getElementById("smokeTutorialHousing").style.display="none"; document.getElementById('OutsideOfEverything').style.display='block'; document.getElementById("mailButton").style.display='block'; } var newMessages = 1; const openMail = ()=>{document.getElementById("emailList").style.display="block";} const closeMail = ()=>{document.getElementById("emailList").style.display="none"; newMessages=0; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML = "Messages"; } count = 901; countdown = setInterval(()=>{ count = count-1; document.getElementById("countdown").innerHTML = count; if (count <1) {clearInterval(countdown);} },1000); var activeBees = 0; const activeBeeLimit=75; function resetCount() { count = 901; } var customHandler; var textToSubmit = ""; var buttonTriggered = false; var currentArticle = "OutsideOfEverything"; var currentlyDragging = false; var countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers = 0; var queenDropped = false; // given an outerDiv //search within it for divs of the class "otherText" // split this around instances of b, #, X, ¥, @ function parse(od) { for (let i = 0; i< od.children.length; i++) { if (od.children[i].classList.contains("bt")) { let wordList = od.children[i].innerHTML.split(" "); for (let v = 0; v<wordList.length; v++) { if(wordList[v].trim()==="") { wordList.splice(v,1); } } var otherText; var otherTextDiv; od.children[i].innerHTML = String(wordList[0]+" "); for (let j = wordList.length-1; j>0; j--) { otherText = document.createTextNode(String(wordList[j])); otherTextDiv = document.createElement("div"); otherTextDiv.setAttribute("class","bt"); otherTextDiv.appendChild(otherText); od.children[i].insertAdjacentElement("afterend",otherTextDiv); } let newInnerNodeText = document.createTextNode(od.children[i].innerHTML); let newInnerNode = document.createElement("div"); newInnerNode.classList.add("otherText"); newInnerNode.appendChild(newInnerNodeText); od.children[i].innerHTML = ""; od.children[i].appendChild(newInnerNode); innerParse(newInnerNode); } else if (od.children[i].hasChildNodes() && (!(od.children[i].classList.contains("collectible") ||od.children[i].classList.contains("hive")|| od.children[i].classList.contains("flower")||od.children[i].classList.contains("bee") || od.children[i].classList.contains("jar")))) { parse(od.children[i]); } }//outer for } function innerParse(otherTextDiv) { // let totalStyle = otherTextDiv.style; let stringToSpawnIn = String(otherTextDiv.innerHTML) || ""; let sliceIndex = -1; if (stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("b") != -1) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("b");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("X") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("X")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("X");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("@") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("@")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("@");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("¥") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("¥")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("¥");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("#") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("#")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("#");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("h") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("h")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("h");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("p") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("p")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("p");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("d") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("d")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("d");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("g") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("g")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("g");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("J") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("J")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("J");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("j") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("j")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("j");} if (sliceIndex != -1) { let latterText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(sliceIndex+1) || ""; let formerText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(0,sliceIndex) || ""; let keyText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(sliceIndex,sliceIndex+1) || ""; let newKeyDiv = document.createElement("div"); let newKeyText = document.createTextNode(keyText); otherTextDiv.innerHTML = formerText || ""; switch (keyText) { case "X": case "@": case "¥": case "g": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","flower"); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); break; case "h": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("ondragover","jarDragover(event)"); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("ondrop","jarDropHandler(event)"); case "p": case "d": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","collectibleHolder"); const collectible = document.createElement("div"); collectible.setAttribute("class","collectible"); collectible.appendChild(newKeyText); newKeyDiv.appendChild(collectible); break; case "b": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","beeHolder"); const newBee = document.createElement("div"); newBee.setAttribute("class","bee"); newBee.appendChild(newKeyText); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newBee); break; case "#": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","hive"); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("dragover",(event)=>{jarDragover(event)}); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("ondrop","jarDropHandler(event)"); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); //newKeyDiv.classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); break; case "J": case "j": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","jar"); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("draggable",true); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("tabindex","0"); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); setUpJar(newKeyDiv); break; default: newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); break; } //newKeyDiv.style =totalStyle; otherTextDiv.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newKeyDiv); const newOtherText = document.createElement("div"); newOtherText.setAttribute("class","otherText"); const newOtherTextText = document.createTextNode(latterText); newOtherText.appendChild(newOtherTextText); newKeyDiv.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newOtherText); innerParse(newOtherText); }//if } var jarIsBeingDragged= false; function setUpJar(newKeyDiv) { newKeyDiv.addEventListener("dragstart",(event)=>{ //event.preventDefault(); jarIsBeingDragged= true; //document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[0].innerHTML = "|"+event.dataTransfer.getData("text")+"|"; //currentlyDragging = true; //event.preventDefault(); }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("drag",(event)=>{ newKeyDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); //currentlyDragging = true; jarIsBeingDragged= true; //event.dataTransfer.clearData(); //event.dataTransfer.setData("text/plain","jar"); }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("dragend",(event)=>{ jarIsBeingDragged=false; //event.preventDefault(); //document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[0].innerHTML = "|"+event.dataTransfer.getData("text/plain")+"|"; newKeyDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); //currentlyDragging = false; if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight").length >0) {jarDropHandlerBase(); } while (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]) { if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.contains("collectible")) { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].parentElement.remove(document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("focus",(event)=>{ setTimeout( ()=>{ if (!(jarIsBeingDragged)) { dx = 0-newKeyDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x + document.getElementById(currentArticle).getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].getBoundingClientRect().x; dy = 0-newKeyDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y + document.getElementById(currentArticle).getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].getBoundingClientRect().y; const transformationContent = [ {transform: "translateX(0px) translateY(0px)"}, {transform: "translateX("+dx+"px) translateY("+dy+"px)" }, ]; const transformationDuration = { duration: 5000, iterations: 1, } let thisMoveAnimation = newKeyDiv.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); thisMoveAnimation.onfinish = () =>{jarDropHandlerBase()}; } },1000 ); }); var touchX; var touchY; var touchXNum; var touchYNum; newKeyDiv.addEventListener("touchstart",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); if (event.cancelable) { event.preventDefault();} jarIsBeingDragged= true; document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").classList.remove("queenBeingDragged");}); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("touchmove",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); if (event.cancelable) { event.preventDefault();} newKeyDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); touchX =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX)+"px"; touchY = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY-40)+"px"; document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").style.left = touchX; document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").style.top = touchY; touchXNum =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX); touchYNum = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY); //this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.innerHTML= "Left"+touchX+ " top" + touchY; let returnValue = ""; let rect = ""; for (let i = 0; i< document.getElementsByClassName("hive").length; i++) { rect = document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].getBoundingClientRect(); //document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].innerHTML = rect.left+" " + rect.top; // document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").innerHTML = touchXNum + " " +touchYNum; if ((Number(touchXNum) > rect.left) && (Number(touchXNum) < Number(rect.left+rect.width+40)) && (Number(touchYNum) > rect.top+window.scrollY) && (Number(touchYNum) < Number(rect.top+rect.height+40+window.scrollY))) { returnValue = document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } for (let i = 0; i< document.getElementsByClassName("collectible").length; i++) { rect = document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].getBoundingClientRect(); //document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].innerHTML = rect.left+" " + rect.top; // document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").innerHTML = touchXNum + " " +touchYNum; if ((document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].innerHTML === "h") && (Number(touchXNum) > rect.left-20) && (Number(touchXNum) < Number(rect.left+rect.width+40)) && (Number(touchYNum) > rect.top+window.scrollY-20) && (Number(touchYNum) < Number(rect.top+rect.height+40+window.scrollY))) { returnValue = document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].id; document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("touchend",(event)=>{ jarIsBeingDragged=false; event.stopPropagation(); if (event.cancelable) { event.preventDefault();} document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); for (let d = 0; d<document.getElementsByClassName("jar").length; d++){ document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[d].classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); } if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight").length >0) {jarDropHandlerBase(); } while (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]) { if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.contains("collectible")) { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].parentElement.remove(document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } }); } function queenDropHandler(event) { event.preventDefault(); queenDropHandlerBase(document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].id); } function jarDropHandler(event) { if (jarIsBeingDragged) { event.preventDefault(); if (event.currentTarget.classList.contains("collectibleHolder")) { if (event.currentTarget.childNodes[0]) { // event.target.innerHTML += "GGG"; event.currentTarget.removeChild(event.currentTarget.childNodes[0]); } } jarDropHandlerBase(); } else { for (let i = 0; i<document.getElementsByClassName("queen").length; i++) {document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[i].focus();} } } function jarDropHandlerBase() { document.getElementById(currentArticle).appendChild(document.getElementsByClassName("floatingImage")[0]); document.getElementsByClassName("floatingImage")[0].style.display="block"; setTimeout( () => { switch (currentArticle) { case "OutsideOfEverything": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonus").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonus").style.display="block"; break; case "ToasterArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusToaster").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusToaster").style.display="block"; break; case "AllisonArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusAllison").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusAllison").style.display="block"; break; case "LibraryArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusLibrary").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusLibrary").style.display="block"; break; case "VerbosityArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusVerbosity").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusVerbosity").style.display="block"; break; case "FFArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusFF").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusFF").style.display="block"; break; case "page-content": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusCustom").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusCustom").style.display="block"; break; default: break; } document.getElementsByClassName("floatingImage")[0].style.display="none"; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML= String(newMessages)+ " New Messages!" },4000); } //separated so could work with touch screens too function queenDropHandlerBase(id) { document.getElementById(id).appendChild(document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[0]); linkPreparer(); } function linkPreparer() { const transformationContent2 = [{transform:"translateX(-20px)"},{transform:"translateX(20px) "},{transform:"translateX(-20px)"}]; const transformationTiming2 = {duration:1000,iterations:Infinity}; document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[0].animate(transformationContent2,transformationTiming2); document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.display="inline-block"; fakeLinkHandle(document.getElementById("linkSelect").value); document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.backgroundColor="#ef972182"; document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.borderColor="#c393b8c"; document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.color="#c393b8c"; document.getElementById("fakeLink").style.color="green"; //document.getElementById("fakeLink").innerHTML = "Queen Ready, Select Queen Destination"; document.getElementById("queenCollectorInitialText").style.display="none"; //document.getElementById("fakeLink").setAttribute("ready","true"); queenDropped = true; } function queenDragover(event) { event.preventDefault(); event.dataTransfer.dropEffect="move"; } function jarDragover(event) { //document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[0].innerHTML = "|"+event.dataTransfer.getData("text/plain")+"|"; if (jarIsBeingDragged) { event.preventDefault(); event.dataTransfer.dropEffect="move"; event.target.classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } var jarActivatedInFirstArticle = false; function fakeLinkClick(event) { event.preventDefault(); if (document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display !== "block") { newMessages++; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML= String(newMessages)+ " New Messages!" } document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display="block"; fl = document.getElementById("linkSelect"); switch (fl.value) { case "Allison": fakeLinkClickBase("AllisonArticle","queenReturnAllison",allisonHandler); break; case "Toaster": fakeLinkClickBase("ToasterArticle","queenReturnToaster",toasterHandler); break; case "Library": fakeLinkClickBase("LibraryArticle","queenReturnLibrary",libraryHandler); break; case "Verbosity": fakeLinkClickBase("VerbosityArticle","queenReturnVerbosity",verbosityHandler); break; case "FF": fakeLinkClickBase("FFArticle","queenReturnFF",ffHandler); break; case "Bee": document.getElementById("queenReturnOriginal").style.display="block"; fakeLinkClickBase("OutsideOfEverything","queenReturnOriginal",testMoveHandler); break; case "Sandbox": document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything").style.display="none"; document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("ToasterArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("AllisonArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("VerbosityArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("FFArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("page-content").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("page-content").style.display="block"; default: break; } } var carryOverBeeObjectList = []; function fakeLinkClickBase(outerDocName, returnName, outerDocHandler) { document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("ToasterArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("AllisonArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("VerbosityArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("FFArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("page-content").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById(outerDocName).style.display ="block"; currentArticle = outerDocName; document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[0].remove(); let newQueen = new Queen(outerDocHandler,outerDocHandler.getRandomHive(),returnName); newQueen.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel(); newQueen.circleAnimate(document.getElementById(returnName)); document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(newQueen.queenDiv); document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(document.createElement("br")); let beeObjList = document.getElementById("LinkButton").getElementsByClassName("bee"); var newBeeDiv; var newBee; for (let i = 0; i< beeObjList.length; i++) { newBeeDiv = document.createElement("div"); newBeeDiv.setAttribute("class","bee"); newBeeDiv.id= String("carryOverBee"+i); newBeeDiv.innerHTML = "b"; document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(newBeeDiv); newBee = new Bee(String("carryOverBee"+i),outerDocHandler); carryOverBeeObjectList.push(newBee); for (let j = 0; j< beeObjList[i].textContent.length; j++) { if ((beeObjList[i].textContent[j] === "d") || (beeObjList[i].textContent[j] === "p")) {newBee.pollenCount =newBee.pollenCount+1; newBee.pollenNode.innerHTML +=beeObjList[i].textContent[j]; } else if (beeObjList[i].textContent[j] === "h") {newBee.pollenCount =newBee.pollenCount+4; newBee.pollenNode.innerHTML +=beeObjList[i].textContent[j];} } //newBeeDiv.innerHTML += newBee.pollenCount; //document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(testMoveHandler.beeObjectList[i].beeDiv); //newBee.moveHandler = outerDocHandler; outerDocHandler.beeObjectList.push(newBee); newBee.encirclingAnimate(document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().width,document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().height,Infinity); } outerDocHandler.queen = newQueen; } function articleClickHandlerBase(articleName,returnName,newBaseAttachBeesName,moveHandler) { if (document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display !=="block") { newMessages++; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML= String(newMessages)+ " New Messages!" document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display="block"; } if (!buttonTriggered) { buttonTriggered = true; queenDropped = false; for (let k = 0; k<moveHandler.queen.queenDiv.getAnimations().length; k++) { moveHandler.queen.queenDiv.getAnimations()[k].cancel(); } document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).appendChild(moveHandler.queen.queenDiv); document.getElementById(returnName).style.display = "none"; document.getElementById(articleName).prepend(document.getElementById("travellingSelectorBox")); document.getElementById("LinkButton").innerHTML = "<div id='queenCollectorInitialText'><br></div>"; moveHandler.queen.moveToAnotherDiv(newBaseAttachBeesName); for (let m = 0; m<document.getElementsByClassName("bee").length; m++) { for (let l = 0; l<document.getElementsByClassName("bee")[m].getAnimations().length; l++) { document.getElementsByClassName("bee")[m].getAnimations()[l].cancel(); } } for (let j = 0; j< moveHandler.beeObjectList.length; j++) { moveHandler.beeObjectList[j].activated = false; moveHandler.beeObjectList[j].currentDiv = document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName); } for (let i = 0; i<document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee").length; i++) { if (document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[i].getAnimations()[0]) { document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[i].getAnimations()[0].cancel();} } while (document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[0]) { document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).appendChild(document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[0]); } for (let p = 0; p< document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).getElementsByClassName("bee").length; p++){ document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[p].click(); } } } function fakeLinkHandle(value) { let fl = document.getElementById("fakeLink"); switch (value) { case "Allison": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock256/Allison-Eckhart"; fl.innerHTML = "Allison Eckhart (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Toaster": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock42/scp-426"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-426 (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Verbosity": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock643/scp-6430"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-6430 (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "FF": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock810/scp-8102"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-8102 (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Library": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock260_a_former_book_loving_town/scp-2602_which_used_to_be_a_library"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-2602, which used to be a library (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Sandbox": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/Sandbox-3/collab:your-sandbox"; fl.innerHTML = "Sandbox (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; default: fl.innerHTML = "Link ready, select destination (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; } } function moveToAnotherDiv(divToMove,currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDiv) { var thisMoveAnimation; let beeDivX = divToMove.getBoundingClientRect().x; let beeDivY = divToMove.getBoundingClientRect().y; let otherDivX = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let otherDivY = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let currentX = currentDivX; let currentY = currentDivY; let beeBeginCurrentX = currentX-beeDivX; let beeBeginCurrentY = currentY-beeDivY; let dx = otherDivX - currentX || 1; let dy = otherDivY - currentY; let beeFinishX = otherDivX - beeDivX; let beeFinishY = otherDivY - beeDivY; let timeOfTrip = Math.floor(Math.sqrt(dx*dx+dy*dy))*10; const transformationContent = [ {transform: "translateX("+beeBeginCurrentX+"px) translateY("+ beeBeginCurrentY+"px)"}, //{transform: "translateX("+beeFinishX+"px) translateY("+beeFinishY+"px)"}, ]; for (let i = 0; i< timeOfTrip; i=i+10) { let theta = Math.sign(dx)*Math.atan(dy/dx) || Math.sign(dy)*Math.atan(dy/dx); // rotation matrix: X = x*cos(theta)-y*sin(theta) and Y = x*sin(theta)+y*cos(theta) // but the function we want to rotate is a sine wave //so the x should be always the same increment, i. let sineFunction = 10*Math.sin(i/60); let rotatedX = Math.sign(dx)*Math.floor(i/10*Math.cos(theta)-sineFunction*Math.sin(theta)) || Math.sign(dy)*Math.floor(i/10*Math.cos(theta)-sineFunction*Math.sin(theta)); let rotatedY = Math.floor(i/10*Math.sin(theta)+sineFunction*Math.cos(theta)); transformationContent.push( {transform: "translateX("+Number(beeBeginCurrentX+rotatedX)+"px) translateY("+Number(beeBeginCurrentY+rotatedY)+"px)"}); } const transformationDuration = { duration: timeOfTrip, iterations: 1, } thisMoveAnimation = divToMove.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); //if (currentDivX === 0) //{thisMoveAnimation.cancel();} return thisMoveAnimation; } function parseStringToSeeIfAllRequiredCharactersAreInIt(st) { //first, get rid of everything between <> let retVal = ""; while (st.indexOf("<") !== -1 && st.indexOf(">") !== -1) { st = st.slice(0,st.indexOf("<"))+st.slice(st.indexOf(">")+1); } if (st.indexOf("b")===-1) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one 'b'!";} if (st.indexOf("#")===-1) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one '#'!";} if ((st.indexOf("p")===-1)&&(st.indexOf("d")===-1)) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one 'p' or 'd'!";} if ((st.indexOf("g")===-1) && (st.indexOf("X")===-1) && (st.indexOf("¥")===-1) && (st.indexOf("@")===-1)) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one of the following: 'X', '¥','@', or 'g'!";} return retVal; } function saveButton() { document.getElementById("page-content").style.display="block"; if((parseStringToSeeIfAllRequiredCharactersAreInIt(textToSubmit) === "")) {document.getElementById('finalOutput').innerHTML=sanitizeHTMLInput(textToSubmit); document.getElementById('form').style.display='none'; parse(document.getElementById('finalOutput')); customHandler = new MoveHandler('finalOutput',"finalQueenReturn",['BBBB','CCCC','DDDD']); document.getElementById("SandboxBase").innerHTML = ""; document.getElementById("queenReturnSandbox").style.display ="block"; document.getElementById("finalOutput").style.display ="block"; document.getElementById("SandboxBase").style.display ="block"; fakeLinkClickBase("finalOuterHousing","queenReturnSandbox",customHandler); document.getElementById("page-content").style.display="block"; } } function resetSandbox() { document.getElementById("form").style.display="block"; buttonTriggered = false; document.getElementById("SandboxBase").innerHTML = ""; for (let j = 0; j< customHandler.beeObjectList.length; j++) { customHandler.beeObjectList[j].activated = false; customHandler.beeObjectList[j].currentDiv = document.getElementById("SandboxBase"); while(customHandler.beeObjectList[j].beeDiv.getAnimations()[0]) { customHandler.beeObjectList[j].beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel(); } } } /*Make sure the user can't inject code into the page*/ function sanitizeHTMLInput(inStr) { let inputString = inStr; let blacklist = ["script","link","object","embed","iframe","onclick","textarea","contenteditable","href", "oncopy","onpaste","oncut","ondblclick","onfocus","onfocusin","onfocusout","oninput","onkeydown","onkeyup","onkeypress", "onmousedown","onmouseenter","onmouseleave","onmousemove","onmouseout","onmouseover","onmouseup","onmousewheel", "onpointercancel","onpointerdown","onpointerenter","onpointerleave","onpointermove","onpointerout","onpointerover","onpointerrawupdate","onpointerup", "onscroll","onscrollend","onsecuritypolicyviolation","ontouchcancel","ontouchend","ontouchmove","ontouchstart", "ontransitioncancel","ontransitionend","ontransitionrun","ontransitionstart", "onwebkitmouseforcechanged","onwebkitmouseforcedown","onwebkitmouseforceup","onwebkitmouseforcewillbegin","onwheel", "ongesturechange","ongestureend","ongesturestart", "ongotpointercapture","onfullscreenerror","onfullscreenchange", "onDOMMouseScroll","onDOMActivate", "oncontextmenu","oncontentvisibilityautostatechange","oncompositionupdate","oncompositionstart","oncompositionend", "onblur","onbeforexrselect","onbeforescriptexecute","onbeforematch","onbeforeinput", "onauxclick","onanimationstart","onanimationend","onanimationiteration","onanimationcancel", "onafterscriptexecute","onlostpointercapture","onMozMousePixelScroll",]; let indexOfBad = -1; for (let i = 0; i<blacklist.length; i++) { indexOfBad = inputString.indexOf(blacklist[i]); while (indexOfBad != -1) { inputString = inputString.slice(0,indexOfBad) +"EXCISED FORBIDDEN STRING"+inputString.slice(indexOfBad+blacklist[i].length); indexOfBad = inputString.indexOf(blacklist[i]); } } return inputString; } class MoveHandler { constructor(outerDocToSelectFrom, queenHolderNameId,cuteList) { this.queen = null; this.queenHolderNameId=queenHolderNameId; this.outerDoc = document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom); this.flowerObjectList = []; for (let i = 0; i< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("flower").length; i++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("flower")[i].setAttribute("id","flowerNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.flowerObjectList.push(new Flower(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("flower")[i],this)); } this.beeObjectList = []; for (let i = 0; i< document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("bee").length; i++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("bee")[i].setAttribute("id","beeNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.beeObjectList.push(new Bee("beeNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom,this)); } this.beeHolderObjectList = []; for (let i = 0; i< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder").length; i++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder")[i].setAttribute("id","beeHolderNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.beeHolderObjectList.push(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder")[i]); } this.initialBeeLength = this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder").length; this.hiveObjectList = []; //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].id; for (let z = 0; z< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("hive").length; z++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("hive")[z].setAttribute("id","hiveNo"+z+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.hiveObjectList.push(new Hive("hiveNo"+z+outerDocToSelectFrom,this,this.outerDoc.getAttribute('initialHoneyCount') )); //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; } this.otherTextList = []; //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].id; this.getRandomOtherText(); this.collectibleList = []; for (let x = 0; x< document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("collectible").length; x++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[x].setAttribute("id","collectibleNo"+x+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.collectibleList.push(new Collectible(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[x],this)); //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; } this.collectibleHolderObjectList = []; for (let q = 0; q< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectibleHolder").length; q++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectibleHolder")[q].setAttribute("id","collectibleHolderNo"+q+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.collectibleHolderObjectList.push(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectibleHolder")[q]); } this.cuteList = cuteList; this.hoverText = document.createElement("div"); this.hoverTextText = document.createTextNode(cuteList[0]); this.hoverText.style.backgroundColor="yellow"; this.hoverText.style.fontSize = "small"; this.hoverText.appendChild(this.hoverTextText); this.hoverText.style.position="absolute"; this.hoverText.style.display = "none"; this.outerDoc.appendChild(this.hoverText); } showHoverText(beeDiv) { this.hoverText.style.display="block"; this.hoverText.style.left= Math.floor(window.scrollX+ beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().left+30)+"px"; this.hoverText.style.top= Math.floor(window.scrollY+beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().top-20)+"px"; if (beeDiv.getAnimations()[0]) { beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].pause(); } let index = Math.floor(Math.random()*this.cuteList.length); this.hoverText.innerHTML = this.cuteList[index]; window.setTimeout(()=>{this.hoverText.style.display = "none"; if (beeDiv.getAnimations()[0]) {beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].play();} else { {beeDiv.click();} } },1000); } rebuildOtherTextList() { this.otherTextList = []; //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].id; for (let i = 0; i< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText").length; i++) { if (this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText")[i].innerHTML ==="") { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText")[i].remove(); i=0; } else {this.otherTextList.push(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText")[i]);} //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; } } // outerDocToSelectFrom: right now this is "OutsideOfEverything", but we will change it when we switch to other scp documents getRandomFlower() { let length = this.flowerObjectList.length; let randomFlower = this.flowerObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)]; for (let i = 0; i<200; i++) { if ((randomFlower.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y < 0) || (randomFlower.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y > 400)) {randomFlower = this.flowerObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)];} else {break;} } return randomFlower; } // outerDocToSelectFrom: right now this is "OutsideOfEverything", but we will change it when we switch to other scp documents getRandomBee() { let length = this.beeObjectList.length; let randomBee = this.beeObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)]; return randomBee; } // outerDocToSelectFrom: right now this is "OutsideOfEverything", but we will change it when we switch to other scp documents getRandomHive() { let length = this.hiveObjectList.length; let randomHive = this.hiveObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)]; return randomHive; } getRandomCollectible() { var randomCollectible; if (!(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible").length === 0)) { randomCollectible = this.getCollectibleById(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[Math.floor(Math.random()*this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible").length)].id); } else { {randomCollectible = this.getRandomFlower();} } return randomCollectible; } getRandomCollectibleHolder() { var randomCollectible; let length = this.collectibleHolderObjectList.length; randomCollectible = this.collectibleHolderObjectList[Math.floor(length*Math.random())]; for (let i = 0; i<200; i++) { if ((randomCollectible.getBoundingClientRect().y < Number(0-10*i)) || (randomCollectible.getBoundingClientRect().y > Number(400+10*i))) {randomCollectible = this.collectibleHolderObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)];} else {break;} } return randomCollectible; } getHiveById(hiveId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.hiveObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.hiveObjectList[i].getHiveId() === hiveId) {retVal = this.hiveObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getFlowerById(flowerId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.flowerObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.flowerObjectList[i].getFlowerId() === flowerId) {retVal = this.flowerObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getCollectibleHolderById(collectibleId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.collectibleHolderObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.collectibleHolderObjectList[i].id === collectibleId) {retVal = this.collectibleHolderObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getCollectibleById(collectibleId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.collectibleList.length; i++) { if (this.collectibleList[i].id === collectibleId) {retVal = this.collectibleList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getBeeById(collectibleId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.beeObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.beeObjectList[i].beeDiv.id === collectibleId) {retVal = this.beeObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getRandomOtherText() { this.rebuildOtherTextList(); let randomOtherText = this.otherTextList[Math.floor(Math.random()*this.otherTextList.length)]; if (!(randomOtherText)) { randomOtherText = document.createElement("div"); randomOtherText.setAttribute("class","otherText"); let randomTextNode = document.createTextNode(" "); this.outerDoc.append(randomOtherText); randomOtherText.append(randomTextNode); this.otherTextList.push(randomOtherText); } return randomOtherText; } } class Bee { constructor(beeDivId, moveHandler) { this.id = beeDivId; this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.activated = false; this.beeDiv = document.getElementById(this.id); this.beeDiv.setAttribute("tabindex","0"); this.beeDiv.onfocus=()=>{this.beeDiv.click(); this.moveHandler.showHoverText(this.beeDiv);}; this.pollenCount = 0; this.honeyCount = 0; this.beeDiv.onclick = (event)=>{event.stopPropagation(); this.selectNextAction(this.beeDiv.parentNode.id,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().x,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().y); activeBees++; } //this.beeDiv.innerHTML = this.beeDiv.parentNode.id+" "+this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().x+" "+this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().y;} this.pollenNode = document.createTextNode(""); this.pollenHolderNode = document.createElement("div"); this.pollenHolderNode.appendChild(this.pollenNode); this.pollenHolderNode.style.fontSize="x-small"; this.pollenHolderNode.setAttribute("position","absolute"); this.currentDiv = this.beeDiv.parentNode; this.beeDiv.appendChild(this.pollenHolderNode); } moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDivId) { let otherDiv = document.getElementById(otherDivId); let thisMoveAnimation = moveToAnotherDiv(this.beeDiv,currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDiv); if (thisMoveAnimation) { thisMoveAnimation.onfinish= () =>{ let otherDivX = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let otherDivY = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; this.activated = false; this.selectNextAction(otherDivId,otherDivX,otherDivY); thisMoveAnimation.cancel(); }; } } encirclingAnimate(centerX,centerY,cycles) { let a = Math.floor(50+Math.random()*40); let k = Math.floor(1+ Math.random()*10); let xCoord = 0; let yCoord = 0; const frames = []; for (let theta = 0; theta < 2*Math.PI; theta = theta+0.01) { xCoord = a * Math.cos(k*theta)*Math.cos(theta)+centerX-this.beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; yCoord = a* Math.cos(k*theta)*Math.sin(theta)+centerY-this.beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; frames.push({transform:"translateX("+Math.floor(xCoord)+"px) translateY("+Math.floor(yCoord)+"px)"}); } const durationInformation = {duration: 8000, iterations: cycles,} return this.beeDiv.animate(frames,durationInformation); } selectNextAction(currentDivId,currentDivXin,currentDivYin) { let currentDivX = currentDivXin || document.getElementById(currentDivId).getBoundingClientRect().x; let currentDivY = currentDivYin || document.getElementById(currentDivId).getBoundingClientRect().y; let currentDiv = document.getElementById(currentDivId); if (currentDiv) {this.currentDiv = currentDiv;} if (activeBees > activeBeeLimit) {activeBees--;} else if (!this.activated) { this.activated=true; if (queenDropped) { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].id); this.beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].onfinish=()=>{document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].appendChild(this.beeDiv);this.encirclingAnimate(document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().width,document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().height,Infinity);}; } else { switch (this.currentDiv.className) { case 'collectibleHolder': if (currentDiv.children[0]) { if (currentDiv.children[0].innerHTML === "h") {this.honeyCount +=1; this.pollenNode.nodeValue += "h"; this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); } else { this.pollenCount +=1; this.pollenNode.nodeValue += currentDiv.children[0].innerHTML; let chanceOfGoingToTheHive = Math.floor(Math.random()*4) if (chanceOfGoingToTheHive < this.pollenCount) { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); } else { let randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; if (randomId === currentDivId) { randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; } this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,randomId); } } if (currentDiv.children[0].getAttribute("class")==="collectible") { currentDiv.removeChild(currentDiv.children[0]); currentDiv.innerHTML = " "; } else { //currentDiv.innerHTML = "AAAA"+currentDiv.children[0].getAttribute("class")+"BBBB"; } }else { let randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; if (randomId === currentDivId) { randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; } this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,randomId); } break; case 'flower': this.pollenCount += 1; if (Math.random() > 0.5) { this.pollenNode.nodeValue += "p"; } else { this.pollenNode.nodeValue += "d"; } var delay = 0; if ((this.pollenCount > 1) && (Math.random()>0.5) && (countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers <7)) { countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers++; let thisFlower = this.moveHandler.getFlowerById(currentDiv.getAttribute("id")); thisFlower.spawnOtherFlower(); this.moveHandler.showHoverText(currentDiv); } let chanceOfGoingToTheHive = Math.floor(Math.random()*4) if (chanceOfGoingToTheHive < this.pollenCount) { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); } else { let randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; if (randomId === currentDivId) { randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; } this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y,randomId); } break; case 'hive': let thisHive = this.moveHandler.getHiveById(currentDivId); if (thisHive) { if (this.pollenCount >0 || this.honeyCount >0) { this.pollenNode.nodeValue = ""; let thisHive = this.moveHandler.getHiveById(currentDivId); thisHive.addPollen(this.pollenCount+4*this.honeyCount); this.pollenCount =0; this.honeyCount = 0; } let nextMoveObject = this.moveHandler.getRandomCollectibleHolder(); this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY, nextMoveObject.getAttribute("id")); }else { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); //this.beeDiv.innerHTML = currentDivId; } break; default: this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id); //this.beeDiv.innerHTML = String(currentDivX); break; } } } } deactivate() { this.activated=false; } activate() { this.activated=true; this.selectNextAction(this.beeDiv.parentNode.id,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().x,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().y); } } class Flower { constructor(flowerDiv, moveHandler) { this.id = flowerDiv.getAttribute("id"); this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.flowerDiv = flowerDiv; this.pollinated = false; this.flowerType =this.flowerDiv.textContent || "X"; } spawnOtherFlower() { //first find a spot to spawn in let textToSpawnIn = this.moveHandler.getRandomOtherText(); while (textToSpawnIn.innerHTML.length === 0) {textToSpawnIn = this.moveHandler.getRandomOtherText();} let stringToSpawnIn = String(textToSpawnIn.innerHTML); let sliceIndex = Math.floor(Math.random()*stringToSpawnIn.length) || 1; let latterText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(sliceIndex); let formerText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(0,sliceIndex-1); textToSpawnIn.innerHTML = formerText; const newFlowerText = document.createTextNode(this.flowerType); const newFlowerDiv = document.createElement("div"); newFlowerDiv.setAttribute("id","flowerNo"+ Number(this.moveHandler.flowerObjectList.length+2)+this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getAttribute("id")); newFlowerDiv.setAttribute("class","flower"); newFlowerDiv.appendChild(newFlowerText); textToSpawnIn.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newFlowerDiv); const newOtherText = document.createElement("div"); newOtherText.setAttribute("class","otherText"); const newOtherTextText = document.createTextNode(latterText); newOtherText.appendChild(newOtherTextText); newFlowerDiv.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newOtherText); this.moveHandler.rebuildOtherTextList(); let otherDiv = newFlowerDiv; let otherDivX = window.scrollX + otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let otherDivY = window.scrollY + otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let currentX = window.scrollX + this.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let currentY = window.scrollY + this.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let dx = currentX-otherDivX; let dy = currentY-otherDivY; let timeOfTrip = Math.floor(Math.sqrt(dx*dx+dy*dy))*50; const transformationContent = [ {transform: "translateX("+dx+"px) translateY("+dy+"px) scale(0.25)" }, {transform: "translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(0.25)"}, {transform: "translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(1)"}, ]; const transformationDuration = { duration: timeOfTrip, iterations: 1, } let thisMoveAnimation = newFlowerDiv.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); //only create the new flower when it settles thisMoveAnimation.onfinish= ()=>{ countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers--; this.moveHandler.flowerObjectList.push(new Flower(newFlowerDiv,this.moveHandler)); thisMoveAnimation.cancel(); } return timeOfTrip; } getFlowerId() { return this.id; } } class Hive { constructor(hiveDivId, moveHandler,initialHoneyCount) { this.id = hiveDivId; this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.hiveDiv = document.getElementById(this.id); this.pollenCount = 0; this.honeyCount = initialHoneyCount; this.honeyCountSpanId = this.id+"honeyCount"; this.hiveDiv.innerHTML="#: <span id=\""+this.honeyCountSpanId+"\">" + this.honeyCount+" </span></br>"; this.honeyCountSpan = document.getElementById(this.honeyCountSpanId); //this.produceQueen(); this.displayHoneyCount(); } getHoneyCount() { return this.honeyCount; } getPollenCount() { return this.pollenCount; } convertPollenToHoney() { let newHoney = Math.floor(this.pollenCount / 4); let remainingPollen = this.pollenCount % 4; this.honeyCount =parseInt(this.honeyCount)+parseInt(newHoney); this.pollenCount = remainingPollen; if (this.honeyCount === 8336) { this.produceQueen(); this.removeHoney(8336); } this.displayHoneyCount(); } displayHoneyCount() { this.honeyCountSpan.innerHTML = this.honeyCount+ "|" + this.pollenCount; } addPollen(newPollen) { this.pollenCount += newPollen; this.convertPollenToHoney(); } //returns honey number actually removed removeHoney(honeyToRemove) { let retVal = 0; if ((this.honeyCount - honeyToRemove) <=0) {retVal = this.honeyCount; this.honeyCount = 0;} else { retVal = honeyToRemove; this.honeyCount -= honeyToRemove; } this.displayHoneyCount(); return retVal; } getHiveId() { return this.id; } produceQueen() { this.queen = new Queen(this.moveHandler,this,this.moveHandler.queenHolderNameId); } } class Queen { constructor(moveHandler, hive, queenButtonId) { this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.hive = hive; this.hiveDiv = document.getElementById(hive.getHiveId()); this.queenDiv = document.createElement("div"); this.queenDiv.className = "queen"; this.queenDiv.setAttribute("draggable",true); this.beeNumber = 0; this.queenDiv.setAttribute("tabindex","0"); this.queenText = document.createTextNode("q"); this.queenDiv.appendChild(this.queenText); document.getElementById(queenButtonId).appendChild(this.queenDiv); this.mobileScrollQueenText= document.createTextNode("q"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv = document.createElement("div"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.appendChild(this.mobileScrollQueenText); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.className = "queen"; this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.style.position="fixed"; this.moveHandler.outerDoc.appendChild(this.mobileScrollQueenDiv); const transformationContent2 = [{transform:"translateX(-20px)"},{transform:"translateX(20px) "},{transform:"translateX(-20px) "}]; const transformationTiming2 = {duration:1000,iterations:Infinity}; this.thisMoveAnimation = this.circleAnimate(this.hiveDiv); this.queenDiv.onfocus = (event) => { setTimeout( ()=>{ if ((testMoveHandler.outerDoc.style.display !== "none")){ if (!(currentlyDragging)) { queenDropped = true; if (this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0]) { this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel();} moveToAnotherDiv(this.queenDiv,this.hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x,this.hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y,document.getElementById("LinkButton")).onfinish =()=>{ linkPreparer();}; } } } ,1000); }; this.queenDiv.addEventListener("dragstart",()=>{this.thisMoveAnimation.pause(); currentlyDragging = true;}); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("drag",()=>{this.queenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged");}); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("dragend",()=>{ setTimeout( ()=>{ currentlyDragging = false; if (queenDropped) {this.thisMoveAnimation.cancel();} else { this.thisMoveAnimation.cancel(); moveToAnotherDiv(this.queenDiv,this.moveHandler.hiveObjectList[0].hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect(0).x,this.moveHandler.hiveObjectList[0].hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect(0).y,document.getElementById("LinkButton")); } this.queenDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); linkPreparer(); },50); }); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("touchstart",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); event.preventDefault(); this.thisMoveAnimation.pause(); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged");}); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("touchmove",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); event.preventDefault(); this.queenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); let touchX =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX)+"px"; let touchY = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY-40)+"px"; this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.style.left = touchX; this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.style.top = touchY; let touchXNum =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX); let touchYNum = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY); //this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.innerHTML= "Left"+touchX+ " top" + touchY; let returnValue = ""; let rect = ""; for (let i = 0; i< this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector").length; i++) { rect = this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].getBoundingClientRect(); if ((Number(touchXNum) > rect.left) && (Number(touchXNum) < Number(rect.left+rect.width+40)) && (Number(touchYNum) > rect.top) && (Number(touchYNum) < Number(rect.top+rect.height+40))) { returnValue = this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].id; this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].classList.add("queenCollectorHighlight"); } else { this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].classList.remove("queenCollectorHighlight"); } } }); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("touchend",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); event.preventDefault(); this.thisMoveAnimation.play(); this.queenDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); queenDropHandlerBase(document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollectorHighlight")[0].id); }); this.toggle = true; this.beeNumber = 0; } circleAnimate(placeToAnimateAround) { const transformationContent = [{transform: "translateX("+Number(placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().width-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x)+"px) translateY("+Number(placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().height-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y)+"px)"}]; let radiusMagnitude = 40; let radius = radiusMagnitude; let xCoord = 0; let yCoord = 0; for (let theta = 0; theta<Number(2*Math.PI); theta=theta+0.01) { radius = Math.floor(radiusMagnitude+10*Math.sin(10*theta)); xCoord = Math.floor(radius*Math.cos(theta)); yCoord = Math.floor(radius*Math.sin(theta)); transformationContent.push({transform: "translateX("+Number(xCoord+placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().width-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x)+"px) translateY("+Number(placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().height-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y+yCoord)+"px)"}); } const transformationDuration = { duration: 5000, iterations: Infinity, } return this.queenDiv.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); } moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivId) { while (this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0]) {this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel();} let currentDiv = document.getElementById(currentDivId);//document.getElementById(currentDivId); var beeToMeet; if (this.beeNumber < this.moveHandler.beeHolderObjectList.length) { beeToMeet = this.moveHandler.beeHolderObjectList[this.beeNumber]; } else { beeToMeet = document.getElementById("LinkButton"); } this.beeNumber++; let otherDiv = beeToMeet;//.beeDiv; let otherDivId = otherDiv.getAttribute("id"); let currentDivX = currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let currentDivY = currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let thisMoveAnimation = moveToAnotherDiv(this.queenDiv,currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDiv); thisMoveAnimation.onfinish= () =>{ if ( otherDiv.children[0]) { otherDiv.children[0].click();} if (otherDiv.getAttribute("class") === "beeHolder") { this.moveToAnotherDiv(otherDivId); //this.moveHandler.outerDoc.prepend(otherDiv); } else { document.getElementById("LinkButton").appendChild(this.queenDiv); linkPreparer(); buttonTriggered=false; queenDropped = true; this.circleAnimate(); } }; } } class Collectible { constructor(collectibleDiv,moveHandler) { this.collectibleDiv = collectibleDiv; this.collectibleType = collectibleDiv.innerHTML || "p"; this.id = this.collectibleDiv.getAttribute("id"); this.moveHandler = moveHandler; } destroy() { this.collectibleDiv.parentElement.removeChild(this.collectibleDiv); this.moveHandler.collectibleList.splice(this.moveHandler.collectibleList.indexOf(this),1); } } const pageSelector = document.getElementById("linkSelect"); pageSelector.onchange = ()=>{fakeLinkHandle(pageSelector.value);}; document.getElementById("fakeLink").addEventListener("keydown",(event)=>{if (event.key==="Enter") {fakeLinkClick(event);}}); parse(document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything")); parse(document.getElementById("ToasterArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("AllisonArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("LibraryArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("VerbosityArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("FFArticle")); function addQueenSkip() {testMoveHandler.getRandomHive().produceQueen();} testMoveHandler = new MoveHandler("OutsideOfEverything","LinkButton", ["what's a nomalous?","buzz off",":(",":)",":3"]); toasterHandler = new MoveHandler("ToasterArticle","queenReturnToaster",["nice and toasty","buzz-zap","i'm electro-cute!","wait, why do i have a concept of individuality?","is the being thinking right now not just a cell in a universal us?",":0"]); allisonHandler = new MoveHandler("AllisonArticle","queenReturnAllison",["no fair, you can't steal our honeycount!","stop hogging the page, allison","autosynecdochic is fun to spell"]); libraryHandler = new MoveHandler("LibraryArticle","queenReturnLibrary", ["ssh! paper wasps","exbibliothetic is fun to spell","we speak comfort to soothe the barren fields","what happened to you stinks","let us dwell in you again"]); verbosityHandler = new MoveHandler("VerbosityArticle","queenReturnVerbosity", [":O",">:|",":(",":3"]); ffHandler = new MoveHandler("FFArticle","queenReturnFF", ["yay","don't blame us","it was like this before we got here",":)",":3"]); </script> </body> </html> ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8335" by J_V_G, Alzin Cdag, IndustryStandard, esriel, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8335. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: SCP-8102 Author: Monkeysky License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8102 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted with author's permission. Name: SCP-6430 Author: S D Locke License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6430 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted with author's permission. Name: SCP-426 Authors: Flah License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-426 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted. Name: SCP-2565 Author: Taffeta License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2565 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted. Name: SCP-2602 Author: Communism will win License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2602 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted. Name: SCP-3309 Authors: Lt Flops,PhamtomGuy License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3309 Additional Notes: Stylistic elements used to replicate the wikidot posting interface used and modified. Name: The Bee-Boy's Song Authors: Rudyard Kipling License: Public Domain Source Link: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Bee-Boy%27s_Song Additional Notes: From a 1906 book, Puck of Pook's Hill. Entire poem excerpted, with dollar signs added in place of some s's Name: Bee Sculpture Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/Bee%20Sculpture.jpg Additional Notes: A sculpture of a bee made entirely of food Name: Lone Toast Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/LoneToast.jpg Additional Notes: A single slice of bread with honey drizzled on it in the shape of a lowercase h Name: Two Toast Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/TwoToast.jpg Additional Notes: A single slice of raw bread and one toasted slice on a plate with honey drizzled on them in the shapes of lowercase letters h Name: toaster Bagel Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/toasterBagel.jpg Additional Notes: A single bagel, covered in white creamy cheese with honey drizzled on it in the shape of a lowercase h Name: esriel-color-print.gif Author: Esreil License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/esriel-color-print.gif Additional Notes: A gif showing a printer printing out a paper with a yellow lowercase h on it Name: weirdToast Author: IndustryStandard License: CC-BY_SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/weirdToast.jpg Additional Notes: adapted from Wikimedia files of toast and honey also in this license box Name: Toast.jpg Author: Nachoman-au License: CC-BY_SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Toast.jpg Additional Notes: adapted into weirdToast Name: Honey_colloidal_liquid.jpg Author: [Nandhinikandhasamy] License: CC-BY_SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Honey_colloidal_liquid.jpg Additional Notes: adapted into weirdToast |
SCP-8335 | thaumiel | //In which a plague of bs rises over the SCP Wiki. esreil's four SCP-8335 By authors: J_V_G Esreil IndustryStandard Alzin Cdag | More by this author other authors' existing works included in this article: scp-8102 by Monkeysky scp-426 by Flah scp-6430 by S D Locke scp-2565 by Taffeta scp-2602 by Communism will win The Bee-Boy's Song, by Rudyard Kipling ACCESSIBILITY MODE Item #: 8335|0 Research Head: Dr. Guy Jenrick Special Containment Procedures: All known SCP-8335 collectives have been relocated to Textual-biological Containers (TbCs) to allow for further maintenance of the hive collectives without risk of failure or mass proliferation. To ensure the safety of hives, TbCs are not to come in contact with untreated external textual materials, nor are TbCs to be removed from their cells for any reason. Hive @lpha is to be contained within the SCP-8335 file. The SCP-8335 file is to be stored on an airgapped TbC. All informational entry and exit from the SCP-8335 file is to be filtered by Aristaeus.aic, in order to preserve the integrity of Hive @lpha and limit the possibility of hostile textual-biological entities initiating a WK-Class 'Death of the Author' scenario.1 Hive @lpha is to be regularly maintained, with excess textual-flora pruned at frequent intervals and the overall health of Hive @lpha detailed weekly. As per the protocols of Project 'Memedovukha', upon Hive @lpha generating an instance of SCP-8335-A, that instance is to be isolated and relocated to the TbC corresponding with the scheduled descending priority memetic target. Description: SCP-8335 is a species of sentient textual organisms resembling a highly simplified form of Apis mellifera,2 that is capable of inhabiting all forms of written text. Instances live in hive communities centralized on specific documents. At present, all known hives are under foundation control. The primary actors within a SCP-8335 hive are SCP-8335-b "Worker" class characters, represented by "b". Within an active hive, instances will interact with compatible characters and the designated hive node to produce SCP-8335-C "Nourishment" class characters, represented by "h". A sufficient stockpile of SCP-8335-C will allow for the incubation of an SCP-8335-A "Regent" class character, represented by "q". For comprehensive documentation of compatible characters, see the table located at the bottom of the description. Upon the emergence of a new Regent class character, the hive will initiate a swarm event. During this event, the new Regent will gather a small number of Worker class characters with whom it will transpose intertextually, proliferating to a new document. Though Regent swarms have been identified crossing large physical distances instantaneously during these events, they most commonly infest documents containing either a similar locus of information to the base of the original hive, or information pertaining to the SCP-8335 species itself. Key Class Function b Worker Primary actors in hive. Collect Resource from Flowers and miscellaneous characters from across the document. h Nourishment Created using Resource and stored within Hive node. q Regent Necessary for anomalous function. Activates new Worker characters. Incubated once quantity of stored Nourishment exceeds 8335. # Hive Central interaction node. Contains active Regent. p d Resource Converted to Nourishment in Hive. X ¥ @ g Flower Interaction point where Workers extract Resource. May multiply if exposed to Resource from other Flowers. $ Smoke Eliminates anomalous activity temporarily. J Collection Can be manipulated to interact with Hive or free Nourishment characters to remove Nourishment from document. Discovery and History: SCP-8335 was discovered within the literary collection of Raymond l'Emile. Raymond l'Emile was a known associate of the defunct GoI The High Men of Orp Terra, a group of hobbyist thaumaturgical apiarists who appear to have disbanded suddenly around the time of the outbreak of the First World War. The Foundation acquired the collection during a sting operation carried out by MTF Mu-43 'Honey Trappers' on a suspected Marshall, Carter, and Dark affiliate on 1/6/1946. By the time the Foundation became aware of the presence of SCP-8335 within the collection, it had established extensive colonies in almost all of the collected works. A thorough operation to comb through the texts for actionable material was conducted, but the majority of the texts proved illegible. On 6/1/1994, a re-evaluation of the recovered material was performed with the aid of previously unavailable digital analysis tools by Dr. Guy Jenrick of the Department of History. While much of the collection remained too damaged to interpret, the following passages relevant to the origins of SCP-8335 were recovered from the personal journals of Raymond l'Emile. The Seve[…] March, Ninetee[…] Mister Koschevnikov, dear that he is, brought to us a new Yeoman, looking to obtain the Freedom of The City with the Company, at our meeting at The Three Candles last night. A peculiar little Teutonic gentleman by the name of Honig Bienenstock. By his own admission, he has some history in the arts of cryptomancy, and proposed to Koschevnikov a manner of working to ensorcell the very letters on a page to live and work, as if they were the industrious fellows we owe our passions and livelihood to. Most intrigued by such a queer novelty, I encouraged my Roy to invite the good man posthaste to join us at the company hall as soon as he is able. The Ni[…] Apr[…] I confess, it was not until Bienenstock scraped it from the page and glazed it upon a fine slice of toasted rye that I had even considered that these keímenopterids could produce edible honey. A drop of amber nectar busied from the very words of Trattato sulla cognizione, enticing and sweet. It was at once the most delectable and confounding thing I have ever tasted. The floral notes deepened by the chorus of linguistic flourishes upon the tongue. To savour a word is an intoxicating thing indeed, I fear I lack the poetic soul to do justice to such an experience. Mister Koschevnikov and I have hastened to induct Mister Bienenstock into the ranks of our High Men with a great expediancy. It is imperative that we acquire more, and the means to make it. I am overcome with an unbearable need to taste the sweetness of a sonnet, by ear and by tongue, with my Roy Mister Koschevnikov on a warm summer evening. […]eth of April, […] Mister Koschevnekov surprised us with quite the spread at the Three Candles, a veritable smorgasbord as Mister Mjödson put it, and fine vintages they were. What a delightful man our Mister Koschevnekov, and what a delightful evening. I shall include below the experience of each honey, to the best of my limited hand. A reintroduction to the floral melody of the Trattato sulla cognizione, as fragrant and enticing as I remember. Following such a familiar yet intoxicating flavour, I saw fit to sample the rustic and almost earthy tones born of the Canterbury Tales. It served well to cleanse my palate, but certainly did not ignite any great passion within me. An acquired taste perhaps, as Earl Chandler seemed particularly infatuated with it. Seeking something a little more unusual, I turned to a product of our dear Roy's mother country, by his account it is a deeply controversial opera called Victory Over the Sun. I confess I could make neither heads nor tails of the text itself, perhaps I shall entreat Mister Koschevnekov to explain it to me at a later date. But the honey, good heavens the honey. Electrifying, it is the only word for it. The flavour of thrumming energy and coursing motion. It was like tasting the very essence of the future. A curious sort of aroma emanated from my next choice, a woody note perhaps, but with a certain dark tinge to it. The taste was almost indescribable. A thrilling edge, but with a haunting tone that lingered on the tongue long afterwards. If it tastes this exciting, I shall certainly have to read this Dracula. But I saved the finest until last, I had been eyeing it since the events of the evening had been unveiled. Honeyed from a copy of Wordsworth's The Prelude, the aroma was beyond my limited pen to convey. The essence of a man, his life and labours, so expertly crafted into verse, crystallized into an incomparably divine spread of amber. It tasted, I confess, of a kin with the feeling that rises in my chest to hear my dearest Roy laugh. I think, perhaps, it is good that I lack that poet's soul, if I did then the sight of his face as he tasted the honey of my craft would be the final note my heart could handle. […]mber, Nin[…] Roy has taken receipt of a most troublesome tome. 'Twas apparently concocted by Bienenstock's cryptomantic compatriots, and contains many a comprehensively confounding and confuddling quip and quirk of querolous quandary. While the wily work of warped and weirdsome words weighs upon my wearisome cerebrum, Koschevnikov's close consideration of commensurate courses proposed the possibility of populating the pages with the peculiar pollinators we have grown so incandescently infatuated with. The subsequent concoction tickles and teases the tongue with a delightful dance of delectable dining experiences. Enamoured with the experience, I have entreated my dearest Koschevnikov to make merry again. Maychance I shall remodel the reading room, a rightful recepticle for our rapturous recreations and melifluous mellifera. The Twentieth […]er, N[…]een. I find with each sting of honeyed words, the confounding consequences of the Teutonic tome fade a little further. Alas, it seems, so too does the enrapturing ecstasy of prior stings fade, and so I have taken to larger servings with my tea. My dear Koschevnikov it seems has become similarly afflicted, though I fear he has found fit to engage in a more extensive relationship with our favoured friends. He makes time to converse at the Candles less and less as the weeks of autumn wear on. I ensure my schedule is free to receive him at any evening, but I worry perhaps my postings are not being delivered as replies have grown infrequent. […]teenth of […]ber, Ni[…]rteen. It has been, I believe, at least a fortnight since I last received a correspondence from my Roy, and I will confess that I am growing concerned. In the years I have known his sweet soul, this is far from the first time we have gone so long without speaking, but there is a different timbre to the silence this time. I hope that is a sign of my advancing age, a creeping of paranoia at the corners of my thinking. I pray it is. I seem to be struggling more than usual to find the words to put to page. Perhaps my Roy is feeling the same, and that is why I have not heard from him. I suppose I could speculate all night and be no closer to the truth, I shall endeavour to make a pilgrimage to his place of rest on the morrow and put these worries to bed. I hope that is not presumptive of me. I arrived this morning at the estate of Mister Koschevnikov. I do not have the words, and I fear it uncouth of me to describe his condition. Oh Roy, oh Roy, the sweet sight of you turned so sour in my heart. I wish I could have done more. I should have done more. I shall never clear the stain from my soul. Before the current developments, Dr. A. P. Oidea believed the symptoms were commensurate with a certain confusion of the bodily defenses. "Allergy" was the word I believe he used. Now he stares, dumb as the rest of us, at the chimeric corpse. It is all such a blur to me, I confess my mind simply cannot accept the things I know to be true. I cannot bear to think of it longer, the visage of my dearest's face so silent awaits me with every timorous blink. I have reclaimed the volumes of his personal libapiaries. Perhaps to remember him by. Perhaps to drown myself in sweet sorrows. Following this transcription, the body of Roy Koschevnikov was exhumed and its DNA sequenced. Foreign genetic material was found interpolated between the human nucleotides. The work detailing the method of creating SCP-8335 was among those affected by the infestation. However, l'Emile had left a wax-sealed note detailing the procedure for introducing 'smoke' to a colony in order to pacify 8335 instances. This discovery allowed initial researchers to prevent further proliferation of the contained colonies. Initial containment procedures called for affected works to be 'smoke' sealed, but regular containment checks revealed that a number of the colonies had become inert, unable to be woken up. As a result, updated containment procedures were introduced, only permitting 'smoking' as a countermeasure to breaches, with SCP-8335 affected works being sealed in standard containment lockers. After a series of containment breaches in the early 1970s, resulting in the total loss of several textual anomalies, authorisation was granted to the Hymenoptera Incarceration and Virtualization Endeavour. The goal of the project was to convert the extant SCP-8335 colonies into a format that could be more readily contained and observed, while reducing the risk of breaches threatening high priority textual anomalies. The resulting device, dubbed the Anomalous Paratextual Relocation Engine (or APRE), enabled the foundation to upload the colonies currently in containment to TbCs. The current containment procedures were drafted in conjunction with the Endeavour, and have reduced breach events by 16.46%. Addendum: Project 'Memedovukha' Informed by l'Emile's experience with 'honey', Dr. Jenrick proposed that, when 'harvested' from a text with memetic effects, SCP-8335 will impart some measure of resistance to those same memetic effects. He subsequently submitted a research proposal to investigate the extent and field applicability of this effect. On 6/1/2004, Project 'Memedovukha' was authorised to research the apparent memetic inoculation effect imparted by SCP-8335-C. Phase 1 - Extraction: Initial trials were performed by 'smoking' the infected page, and then scraping the 'hive' character with a laboratory spatula, a slow and tedious process that was swiftly deemed unsuitable for the long term needs of the project. While experimentation with a heavily modified radial honey extractor significantly improved per-hour outputs of usable SCP-8335-C, further refinement of the system was abandoned due to an unsustainably high rate of hive extinctions. Ultimately, building on the extant functions of the APREs used in containment and transport, a specialised application was developed, officially dubbed Jar_Muzen.cab. The application functions in a three part process, draining the 'hive' character, relocating the drained 8335-C instances to a blank page, and automatically printing the resulting file. Upon printing, processing of the printed material is handled by Aristaeus.aic in order to minimise the risk of memetic cross-contamination. The Jar_Muzen.cab procedure passed all efficiency benchmarks with regards to production quantity and hive retention rates, and the project was cleared to enter Phase 2. Phase 2 - Refinement: Based on the information retrieved from the journals of Raymond l'Emile, a risk of melinaphylaxis and subsequent Melinadelian interpolation presents at higher doses or prolonged usage of 8335-C, and so a method for increasing potency without accompanying risk of allergic reaction was deemed necessary. Chemical analyses of 8335-C revealed a primary composition of keímenosaccharides,3. Derived from this understanding, a process of fermentation through the introduction of a thaumaturgically enhanced brewer's yeast classified as verbumyces medo was devised. The resultant syllavylcarbinol4 proved to retain the inoculative effect of 8335-C, while dramatically decreasing cases of melinaphylaxis during animal trials. Further refinement of the process brought lethality rates below target rates, and Phase 3 was authorised. Phase 3 - Human Testing: Phase 3 of Project 'Memedovukha' is currently ongoing, and is focused on human trials of the completed Class-b targeted memeadic inoculant. The primary goal is to demonstrate the safety and efficacy in protecting researchers and field agents from a selected group of memetic hazards. Included within this page is an APRE window, which will allow transfer of incubated SCP-8335-A instances from the Hive @lpha page to a locally hosted copy of the articles detailing the selected hazards. Once each page has been swarmed, an initial batch of Class-b inoculant will be produced to perform a double-blind study in order to prove its effectiveness and viability for field deployment. Footnotes 1. As per directive from the Pataphysics Department. 2. Binomial name of the European Honey Bee. 3. A semantic sugar analogue 4. A semantic alcohol analogue – hide block <!doctype html> <html> <head> <style> @import url('https://d3g0gp89917ko0.cloudfront.net/v--edac79f846ba/common--theme/base/css/style.css'); @import url('https://cdn.scpwiki.com/theme/en/sigma/css/sigma.min.css'); @import url('https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com//local--code/theme:raisa-sigma/1'); @import url('https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com//local--code/component:betterfootnotes/1'); div.warning-box { position: relative; height: 15rem; } div.warning-box span { word-break: break-word; } div.warning-box div.warning-box-container { display: -webkit-box; display: -webkit-flex; display: -ms-flexbox; display: flex; -webkit-box-orient: vertical; -webkit-box-direction: normal; -webkit-flex-direction: column; -ms-flex-direction: column; flex-direction: column; -webkit-box-pack: center; -webkit-justify-content: center; -ms-flex-pack: center; justify-content: center; height: 93%; } div.warning-box div.text-top, div.warning-box div.text-bottom, div.warning-box div.text-number { width: 100%; display: block; justify-content: center; text-align: center; } div.warning-box div.text-top { --wght: 900; font-size: 2em; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0.2em; font-weight: 900; } div.warning-box div.text-bottom { font-size: 1.25em; line-height: 1; margin: 0 auto; } div.warning-box div.text-number { font-size: 1.5em; position: absolute; bottom: 2.8em; font-weight: 900; color: green; } div.warning-box div.image-bg { position: absolute; background: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/component:object-warning-box-source/scp-logo.svg); background: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/component:object-warning-box-source/scp-logo.svg); -webkit-background-size: contain; background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: center center; top: 3px; width: 100%; height: 15rem; z-index: 0; opacity: 0.15; } @media only screen and (max-width: 768px) { div.warning-box div.text-top { font-size: 1.75em; } div.warning-box div.text-bottom { font-size: 1.15em; } } .idle{ margin:auto; animation-duration:2s; animation-name:idle; animation-iteration-count: infinite; animation-direction:alternate; } .smokeStage1{ margin:auto; animation-duration:5s; animation-name:smoke1; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-direction:normal; } .smokeStage2{ animation-duration:5s; animation-name:smoke2; animation-iteration-count: 1; animation-direction:normal; } @keyframes smoke1 { 0% {transform: scale(100%, 100%); opacity:100%;} 100% {transform: scale(600%, 600%); opacity: 0%; display:none;} } @keyframes smoke2 { 0% {transform:translateX(0px) transform:translateY(0px) scale(100%,100%); opacity:100%;} 100% {transform:translateY(-400px) translateX(-400px) scale(800%,800%); opacity:0%; display:none;} } @keyframes idle { 0%{transform:rotate(-20deg);} 100%{transform:rotate(20deg);} } .bee { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; max-width:8px; max-height:4px; } .beeHolder { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; min-width:9px; margin-top: 1px; margin-bottom: 1px; } .newDocBeeBase { position: relative; left:60px; height:10px; } .otherText { float: left; clear: none; margin-top: 1px; margin-bottom: 1px; white-space:break-spaces; } .bt { float: left; clear: none; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; white-space:break-spaces; } .flower { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; } .hive { font-weight:bold; height:4px; max-height:4px; } .collectible { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; } .collectibleHolder{ float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; min-width:7px; margin-top: 1px; margin-bottom: 1px; } .jar { float: left; clear: none; white-space:break-spaces; white-space:break-spaces; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; } .fnnum {counter-increment: megacount 1; margin-left: -.45em; margin-right:0} .fnnum::after {color: rgb(188, 145, 37)} .fnnum:hover {background-color: rgb(188, 145, 37)} .fncon::before {background-color: rgb(188, 145, 37)} .queen { float: left; clear: none; font-size: xxx-large; white-space:break-spaces; height: 60px; width: 40px; } .outerText { width:100%; overflow:hidden; } .queenCollector { overflow:visible; height:60px; } .queenCollectorHighlight { background-color: yellow; } .jarCollectorHighlight { background-color: yellow; } .queenBeingDragged { opacity:0%; } .floatingImage { height: 150px; width: 150px; position: fixed; top:50%; left:50%; margin-left:-75px; margin-top:-75px; border:solid black 3px; display:none; } br { clear:both; } td { max-width:400px; color: rgb(221, 221, 119); background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: solid 1px rgb(170, 170, 85); padding: 0.3em 0.7em; } th { max-width:400px; font-weight:bold; text-align: center; color: rgb(224, 196, 71); background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: solid 1px rgb(170, 170, 85); text-transform: uppercase; } table { border-collapse: collapse; margin: auto; color: rgb(221, 221, 119); background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: solid 2px rgb(170, 170, 85); padding: 0.3em 0.7em; } .beeleasebox { background-image:url("data:image/svg+xml;utf8,<svg xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg' version='1.1' height='17px' width='94px'><text x='1.5' y='10' fill='rgb(201, 189, 106)' font-size='9'>RELEASE THE BEES!</text></svg>"); background-color: #d6c9698a; } .beequeenboxtext { background-image:url("data:image/svg+xml;utf8,<svg xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg' version='1.1' height='17px' width='95px'><text x='12' y='11' fill='rgb(201, 189, 106)' font-size='9'>Drop Queen Here</text></svg>"); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: center; background-color: #d6c9698a; } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .mobilefix { font-size: .5em; } .mobilefix2 { font-size: .25em; } .mobilefix3 { background-image:url("data:image/svg+xml;utf8,<svg xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg' version='1.1' height='17px' width='60px'><text x='2' y='11' fill='rgb(201, 189, 106)' font-size='7'>Drop Queen Here</text></svg>"); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position: center; background-color: #d6c9698a; } </style> </head> <body> <div style="border: solid 2px gray; overflow:hidden;"> <div style="width:auto; border: outset 4px silver; background: gray;padding: 10px;padding-bottom:0px; overflow-y:hidden; overflow-x:hidden;"> <div style="width:auto; height:30em; border: solid 3px #d1b40d; background: #edcf1f;padding: .5em; border-radius: 10px; overflow-y:hidden; overflow-x:hidden;"> <div style="width:auto; height: 28em; border: solid 3px #d1b40d; background: #ffffff;padding: 10px; overflow-y:scroll; overflow-x:hidden;"> <img class="floatingImage" src = "https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/esriel-color-print.gif" alt="image indicating an h is being printed"> <div id = "mobileScrollJarDiv" style="position:absolute; min-height:25px;min-width:15px;white-space:break-spaces;" class="queenBeingDragged"> j</div> <div id="smokeTutorialHousing" style="display:block; width:100%; height:75em; text-align:center; overflow-y:visible; overflow-x:hidden;"> <button onclick="smokeFinal();">Skip tutorial</button><br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f3f3f38f;display:inline-block;padding:10px;border-radius:100px"> <div class="warning-box"> <div class="warning-box-container"> <div class="text-top"> <span>SMOKE PROCEDURE ACTIVE</span> </div> <div class="text-bottom" style="display:block;"> <span>File Status:</span> </div> </div> <div class="text-number"> <span>DOCILE </span> </div> <div class="image-bg"> </div> </div> </div> <br> <br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f7f5ed8f;display:inline-block;padding:3px"> Click "<div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm11" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm11')" onclick="smokeClick('sm11')">$ </div>" To Initiate Dispersal Sequence </div> <br><br><br><div class="idle" id="smokeTutorial" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeIterate()" onclick="smokeIterate()">$</div> <div id="kipling" style="display:none"> <div style="border: 2px none #c2c0bc; background: #e1c45180; display: inline-block; padding: 6px; border-radius: 50px;"> <div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm10" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm10')" onclick="smokeClick('sm10')">$MOKE </div><div style="display:inline-block;" id="smokeLeft"> Remaining: 11</div><br> </div> </br> </br> <br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f7f5ed8f;display:inline-block;padding:10px"> Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">'Hide from your neigbours as much a</div><div id ="sm1" style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;" class="idle" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm1')" onclick="smokeClick('sm1')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;"> you plea</div><div id ="sm8" style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;" tabindex="0" onclick="smokeClick('sm8')" onfocus="smokeClick('sm8')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">e,</div><br> But all that has happened, to us you must tell,<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">Or else we will give you no honey to </div><div id ="sm2"style="display:inline-block" class="idle" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm2')" onclick="smokeClick('sm2')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">ell!'</div><br> <br> A maiden in her glory,<br> Upon her wedding-day,<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">Must tell her Bees the </div><div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm3" tabindex="0" onfocus= "smokeClick('sm3')" onclick="smokeClick('sm3')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">tory,</div><br> Or else they'll fly away.<br> Fly away—die away—<br> Dwindle down and leave you!<br> But if you don't deceive your Bees,<br> Your Bees will not deceive you.<br> <br> Marriage, birth or buryin',<br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">News across the </div><div id ="sm4" style="display:inline-block" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm4')" onclick="smokeClick('sm4')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">eas,</div><br> <div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;">All you're </div><div id ="sm5" style="display:inline-block" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm5')" onclick="smokeClick('sm5')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">ad or merry in,</div><br> You must tell the Bees.<br> Tell 'em coming in an' out,<br> <div style="display:inline-block">Where the Fanner</div><div id ="sm6" style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm6')" onclick="smokeClick('sm6')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block;white-space-collapse:break-spaces;"> fan,</div><br> <div style="display:inline-block">'Cau</div><div id ="sm7" style="display:inline-block" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm7')" onclick="smokeClick('sm7')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">e the Bees are justabout</div><br> As curious as a man!<br> <br> Don't you wait where the trees are,<br> When the lightnings play,<br> Nor don't you hate where Bees are,<br> <div style="display:inline-block">Or el</div><div style="display:inline-block" id ="sm9" tabindex="0" onfocus="smokeClick('sm9')" onclick="smokeClick('sm9')">$</div><div style="display:inline-block">e they'll pine away.</div><br> Pine away—dwine away—<br> Anything to leave you!<br> But if you never grieve your Bees,<br> Your Bees'll never grieve you.<br><br> <b> - <i>The Bee-Boy's Song</i>, Rudyard Kipling</b> </div> <br> <br> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#fadede;display:inline-block;padding:3px"> <b>NOTE:</b> <i>All</i> smoke characters must be clicked to continue! </div> </div> </div> <div id="finalSmoke" style="display:none"> <div style="text-align: center"> <div style="border:1px none #c2c0bc; background:#f3f3f38f;display:inline-block;padding:10px;border-radius:100px"> <div class="warning-box"> <div class="warning-box-container"> <div class="text-top"> <span>SMOKE FULLY DISPERSED</span> </div> <div class="text-bottom" style="display:block;"> <span>File Status:</span> </div> </div> <div class="text-number" style="color:grey"> <span>WAKING</span> </div> <div class="image-bg"> </div> </div> </div> <br> <br>fa <button style="background: #d6c9698a; color: #b69668; font-family: 'Oxanium';border-radius: 10PX; BORDER: NONE;" onclick = "smokeFinal()"><h2>Proceed to tend Hive @lpha?</h2></button> </div> </div> <div id="OutsideOfEverything" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "8330" style="display:none;"> <button onclick="addQueenSkip()">Skip to adding the queen</button> <div id="travellingSelectorBox" style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <div style="width:auto;font-family:'Oxanium';padding: 5px; border: solid 2px #939393; background: #c9c6b8; color: #887f7f; border-radius: 10px;"> <div style="width:auto; border: solid 2px #939393; background: #e9e9e9; padding: 10px; border-radius: 10px;"> <div style="width: 70%;display:inline-block"> <div id = "linkBlock" style="width:100%; border: solid 2px #bcbcbc; background: #c6c6c6; text-color: #bcbcbc;text-align:center"> <label for="linkSelect" class="mobilefix">APRE Selector:</label></br> <select id="linkSelect" class="mobilefix" style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;"> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; text-color: #aa5656;" value="">Select Article Destination</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; text-color: #aa5656;" value="Bee">SCP-8335</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value = "Toaster">SCP-426</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value = "Library">SCP-2602-which-used-to-be-a-library</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value = "Allison">Allison-Eckhart</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value="Verbosity">SCP-6430</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value="FF">SCP-8102</option> <option style="border:dotted 1px #ffd800; font-family: 'Oxanium'; background: #f5d87e; color: #aa5656;" value="Sandbox">Sandbox</option> </select> </br> <a id="fakeLink" style="color:DimGray;font-size:calc(0.35em + 1vw)" href="" onclick="fakeLinkClick(event)" class="mobilefix2"> Insert queen to select queen destination</a> </div> </div> <div style="width:25%;display:inline-block;float:right"> <button class="queenCollector beequeenboxtext mobilefix3" ondrop="queenDropHandler(event)" ondragover= "queenDragover(event)" id="LinkButton" style="width:100%; border: double 4px #ae99053b;"> <div id="queenCollectorInitialText"><br></div> </button> </div> </div> </div> <br> </div> <div id = "OriginalBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnOriginal" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('OutsideOfEverything','queenReturnOriginal','OriginalBase',testMoveHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:none;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <p> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item #</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Object Class:</div></div> <div class="bt">Thaumeli</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Research Head:</div></div> <div class="bt">Dr. Guy Jenrick</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt"> All known SCP-8335 collectives have been relocated to Textual-biological Containers (TbCs) to allow for further maintenance of the hive collectives without risk of failure or mass proliferation. To ensure the safety of hives, TbCs are not to come in contact with untreated external textual materials, nor are TbCs to be removed from their cells for any reason.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Hive @lpha is to be contained within the SCP-8335 file. The SCP-8335 file is to be stored on an airgapped TbC. All informational entry and exit from the SCP-8335 file is to be filtered by Aristaeus.aic, in order to preserve the integrity of Hive @lpha and limit the possibility of hostile textual-biological entities initiating a WK-Class 'Death of the Author' scenario.</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum">.</span><span class="fncon">As per directive from the Pataphysics Department.</span> </div><div class="bt"> Hive @lpha is to be regularly maintained, with excess textual-flora pruned at frequent intervals and the overall health of Hive @lpha detailed weekly.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">As per the protocols of Project 'Memedovukha', upon Hive @lpha generating an instance of SCP-8335-A, that instance is to be isolated and relocated to the TbC corresponding with the scheduled descending priority memetic target.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div> <div class="bt">SCP-8335 is a species of sentient textual organisms resembling a highly simplified form of</div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Apis mellifera,</div></div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 2;">.</span><span class="fncon">Binomial name of the European Honey Bee.</span> </div><div class="bt"> that is capable of inhabiting all forms of written text. Instances live in hive communities centralized on specific documents. At present, all known hives are under foundation control.</div><br><br> <div class="bt"> The primary actors within a SCP-8335 hive are SCP-8335-b "Worker" class characters, represented by "b". Within an active hive, instances will interact with compatible characters and the designated hive node to produce SCP-8335-C "Nourishment" class characters, represented by "h". A sufficient stockpile of SCP-8335-C will allow for the incubation of an SCP-8335-A "Regent" class character, represented by "q". For comprehensive documentation of compatible characters, see the table located at the bottom of the description.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Upon the emergence of a new Regent class character, the hive will initiate a swarm event. During this event, the new Regent will gather a small number of Worker class characters with whom it will transpose intertextually, proliferating to a new document. Though Regent swarms have been identified crossing large physical distances instantaneously during these events, they most commonly infest documents containing either a similar locus of information to the base of the original hive, or information pertaining to the SCP-8335 species itself.</div><br><br> <table> <thead> <tr style="text-align:center"> <th>Key </th><th>Class<th>Function</th> </tr> </thead> <tbody> <tr> <td><div style="display:inline-block;" id="beeInTable" onclick="removeIdleAnimation('beeInTable')" class="idle"><div class="bt"> b </div></div></td><td><div class="bt"> Worker </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Primary actors in hive. Collect Resource from Flowers and miscellaneous characters from across the document. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> h </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Nourishment </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Created using Resource and stored within Hive node. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> q </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Regent </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Necessary for anomalous function. Activates new Worker characters. Incubated once quantity of stored Nourishment exceeds 8335. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td># </td><td><div class="bt"> Hive </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Central interaction node. Contains active Regent. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> p d </div></td> <td><div class="bt"> Resource </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Converted to Nourishment in Hive.</div></td> </tr> <tr> <td><div class="bt"> X ¥ @ g </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Flower </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Interaction point where Workers extract Resource. May multiply if exposed to Resource from other Flowers. </div></td> </tr> <tr> <td>$ </td><td><div class="bt"> Smoke </div></td><td> <div class="bt">Eliminates anomalous activity temporarily. </div></td> </tr><tr> <td><div class="bt"> J j </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Collection </div></td><td><div class="bt"> Can be manipulated to interact with Hive or free Nourishment characters to remove Nourishment from document. </div></td></tr> </tbody> </table> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Discovery and History:</div></div><div class="bt"> SCP-8335 was discovered within the literary collection of Raymond l'Emile. Raymond l'Emile was a known associate of the defunct GoI The High Men of Orp Terra, a group of hobbyist thaumaturgical apiarists who appear to have disbanded suddenly around the time of the outbreak of the first world war. The Foundation acquired the collection during a sting operation carried out by MTF Mu-43 'Honey Trappers' on a suspected Marshall, Carter, and Dark affiliate on 1/6/1946. By the time the Foundation became aware of the presence of SCP-8335 within the collection, it had established extensive colonies in almost all of the collected works. A thorough operation to comb through the texts for actionable material was conducted, but the majority of the texts proved illegible.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">On 6/1/1994, a re-evaluation of the recovered material was performed with the aid of previously unavailable digital analysis tools by Dr. Guy Jenrick of the Department of History. While much of the collection remained too damaged to interpret, the following passages relevant to the origins of SCP-8335 were recovered from the personal journals of Raymond l'Emile.</div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">The Seve[...] March, Ninetee[...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Mister Koschevnikov, dear that he is, brought to us a new Yeoman, looking to obtain the Freedom of The City with the Company, at our meeting at The Three Candles last night. A peculiar little Teutonic gentleman by the name of Honig Bienenstock.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">By his own admission, he has some history in the arts of cryptomancy, and proposed to Koschevnikov a manner of working to ensorcell the very letters on a page to live and work, as if they were the industrious fellows we owe our passions and livelihood to.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Most intrigued by such a queer novelty, I encouraged </div><div style="text-decoration-line: line-through; float:left; clear:none; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; white-space:break-spaces;">my </div><div class="bt"> Roy to invite the good man posthaste to join us at the company hall as soon as he is able. </div><br><br></div><br> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">The Ni[...] Apr[...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I confess, it was not until Bienenstock scraped it from the page and glazed it upon a fine slice of toasted rye that I had even considered that these keímenopterids could produce edible honey. A drop of amber nectar busied from the very words of</div> <div style="font-style:italic;"><div class="bt">Trattato sulla cognizione</div></div><div class="bt">, enticing and sweet.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">It was at once the most delectable and confounding thing I have ever tasted. The floral notes deepened by the chorus of linguistic flourishes upon the tongue. To savour a word is an intoxicating thing indeed, I fear I lack the poetic soul to do justice to such an experience.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Mister Koschevnikov and I have hastened to induct Mister Bienenstock into the ranks of our High Men with a great expediancy. It is imperative that we acquire more, and the means to make it. I am overcome with an unbearable need to taste the sweetness of a sonnet, by ear and by tongue, with </div><div style="text-decoration-line: line-through; float:left; clear:none; margin-bottom: 1px; margin-top: 1px; white-space:break-spaces;">my Roy </div><div class="bt"> Mister Koschevnikov on a warm summer evening.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">[...]eth of April, [...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Mister Koschevnekov surprised us with quite the spread at the Three Candles, a veritable smorgasbord as Mister Mjödson put it, and fine vintages they were. What a delightful man our Mister Koschevnekov, and what a delightful evening. I shall include below the experience of each honey, to the best of my limited hand.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">A reintroduction to the floral melody of the </div><div style="font-style:italic;"><div class="bt">Trattato sulla cognizione</div></div><div class="bt">, as fragrant and enticing as I remember.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Following such a familiar yet intoxicating flavour, I saw fit to sample the rustic and almost earthy tones born of the </div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Canterbury Tales</div></div><div class="bt">. It served well to cleanse my palate, but certainly did not ignite any great passion within me. An acquired taste perhaps, as Earl Chandler seemed particularly infatuated with it.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Seeking something a little more unusual, I turned to a product of our dear Roy's mother country, by his account it is a deeply controversial opera called </div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Victory Over the Sun</div></div><div class="bt">. I confess I could make neither heads nor tails of the text itself, perhaps I shall entreat Mister Koschevnekov to explain it to me at a later date. But the honey, good heavens the honey. Electrifying, it is the only word for it. The flavour of thrumming energy and coursing motion. It was like tasting the very essence of the future.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">A curious sort of aroma emanated from my next choice, a woody note perhaps, but with a certain dark tinge to it. The taste was almost indescribable. A thrilling edge, but with a haunting tone that lingered on the tongue long afterwards. If it tastes this exciting, I shall certainly have to read this </div><div style="font-style:italic;"><div class="bt">Dracula.</div></div><br><br> <div class="bt">But I saved the finest until last, I had been eyeing it since the events of the evening had been unveiled. Honeyed from a copy of Wordsworth's</div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">The Prelude</div></div><div class="bt">, the aroma was beyond my limited pen to convey. The essence of a man, his life and labours, so expertly crafted into verse, crystallized into an incomparably divine spread of amber. It tasted, I confess, of a kin with the feeling that rises in my chest to hear my dearest Roy laugh. I think, perhaps, it is good that I lack that poet's soul, if I did then the sight of his face as he tasted the honey of my craft would be the final note my heart could handle.</div></br></br></div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">[...]mber, Nin[...]</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Roy has taken receipt of a most troublesome tome. 'Twas apparently concocted by Bienenstock's cryptomantic compatriots, and contains many a comprehensively confounding and confuddling quip and quirk of querolous quandary. </div><br><br> <div class="bt">While the wily work of warped and weirdsome words weighs upon my wearisome cerebrum, Koschevnikov's close consideration of commensurate courses proposed the possibility of populating the pages with the peculiar pollinators we have grown so incandescently infatuated with.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">The subsequent concoction tickles and teases the tongue with a delightful dance of delectable dining experiences. Enamoured with the experience, I have entreated my dearest Koschevnikov to make merry again. Maychance I shall remodel the reading room, a rightful recepticle for our rapturous recreations and melifluous mellifera.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">The Twentieth [...]er, N[...]een.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I find with each sting of honeyed words, the confounding consequences of the Teutonic tome fade a little further. Alas, it seems, so too does the enrapturing ecstasy of prior stings fade, and so I have taken to larger servings with my tea.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">My dear Koschevnikov it seems has become similarly afflicted, though I fear he has found fit to engage in a more extensive relationship with our favoured friends. He makes time to converse at the Candles less and less as the weeks of autumn wear on. I ensure my schedule is free to receive him at any evening, but I worry perhaps my postings are not being delivered as replies have grown infrequent.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">[...]teenth of [...]ber, Ni[...]rteen.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">It has been, I believe, at least a fortnight since I last received a correspondence from my Roy, and I will confess that I am growing concerned. In the years I have known his sweet soul, this is far from the first time we have gone so long without speaking, but there is a different timbre to the silence this time. I hope that is a sign of my advancing age, a creeping of paranoia at the corners of my thinking. I pray it is.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I seem to be struggling more than usual to find the words to put to page. Perhaps my Roy is feeling the same, and that is why I have not heard from him.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I suppose I could speculate all night and be no closer to the truth, I shall endeavour to make a pilgrimage to his place of rest on the morrow and put these worries to bed. I hope that is not presumptive of me.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%; background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); border: 3px solid rgb(170, 170, 85); color: rgb(221, 221, 119); padding: 10px;"> <div class="bt">I arrived this morning at the estate of Mister Koschevnikov. I do not have the words, and I fear it uncouth of me to describe his condition. Oh Roy, oh Roy, the sweet sight of you turned so sour in my heart. I wish I could have done more. I should have done more. I shall never clear the stain from my soul.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Before the current developments, Dr. A. P. Oidea believed the symptoms were commensurate with a certain confusion of the bodily defenses. "Allergy" was the word I believe he used. Now he stares, dumb as the rest of us, at the chimeric corpse. It is all such a blur to me, I confess my mind simply cannot accept the things I know to be true. I cannot bear to think of it longer, the visage of my dearest's face so silent awaits me with every timorous blink.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">I have reclaimed the volumes of his personal libapiaries. Perhaps to remember him by. Perhaps to drown myself in sweet sorrows.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div class="bt">Following this transcription, the body of Roy Koschevnikov was exhumed and its DNA sequenced. Foreign genetic material was found interpolated between the human nucleotides.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">The work detailing the method of creating SCP-8335 was among those affected by the infestation. However, l'Emile had left a wax-sealed note detailing the procedure for introducing 'smoke' to a colony in order to pacify 8335 instances. This discovery allowed initial researchers to prevent further proliferation of the contained colonies.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Initial containment procedures called for affected works to be 'smoke' sealed, but regular containment checks revealed that a number of the colonies had become inert, unable to be woken up. As a result, updated containment procedures were introduced, only permitting 'smoking' as a countermeasure to breaches, with SCP-8335 affected works being sealed in standard containment lockers.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">After a series of containment breaches in the early 1970s, resulting in the total loss of several textual anomalies, authorisation was granted to the Hymenoptera Incarceration and Virtualization Endeavour. The goal of the project was to convert the extant SCP-8335 colonies into a format that could be more readily contained and observed, while reducing the risk of breaches threatening high priority textual anomalies. The resulting device, dubbed the Anomalous Paratextual Relocation Engine (or APRE), enabled the foundation to upload the colonies currently in containment to TbCs. The current containment procedures were drafted in conjunction with the Endeavour, and have reduced breach events by 16.46%.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold;text-align:center"><div class="bt">Addendum:</div></div><div class="bt">Project 'Memedovukha'</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Informed by l'Emile's experience with 'honey', Dr. Jenrick proposed that, when 'harvested' from a text with memetic effects, SCP-8335 will impart some measure of resistance to those same memetic effects. He subsequently submitted a research proposal to investigate the extent and field applicability of this effect.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">On 6/1/2004, Project 'Memedovukha' was authorised to research the apparent memetic inoculation effect imparted by SCP-8335-C. </div><br><br> <div style="border: 2px rgb(253 214 187) dashed;background-color: rgb(255 242 209);padding: 10px 10px;width: 90%;margin-inline: auto;height: auto;"> <b><div class="bt">Phase 1 - Extraction:</div></b><div class="bt"> Initial trials were performed by 'smoking' the infected page, and then scraping the 'hive' character with a laboratory spatula, a slow and tedious process that was swiftly deemed unsuitable for the long term needs of the project. While experimentation with a heavily modified radial honey extractor significantly improved per-hour outputs of usable SCP-8335-C, further refinement of the system was abandoned due to an unsustainably high rate of hive extinctions.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Ultimately, building on the extant functions of the APREs used in containment and transport, a specialised application was developed, officially dubbed Jar_Muzen.cab. The application functions in a three part process, draining the 'hive' character, relocating the drained 8335-C instances to a blank page, and automatically printing the resulting file. Upon printing, processing of the printed material is handled by Aristaeus.aic in order to minimise the risk of memetic cross-contamination. The Jar_Muzen.cab procedure passed all efficiency benchmarks with regards to production quantity and hive retention rates, and the project was cleared to enter Phase 2.</div><br><br> <b><div class="bt">Phase 2 - Refinement:</div></b><div class="bt">Based on the information retrieved from the journals of Raymond l'Emile, a risk of melinaphylaxis and subsequent Melinadelian interpolation presents at higher doses or prolonged usage of 8335-C, and so a method for increasing potency without accompanying risk of allergic reaction was deemed necessary.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Chemical analyses of 8335-C revealed a primary composition of keímenosaccharides,</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 3;">.</span><span class="fncon">A semantic sugar analogue</span> </div><div class="bt"> Derived from this understanding, a process of fermentation through the introduction of a thaumaturgically enhanced brewer's yeast classified as </div><div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">verbumyces medo</div></div><div class="bt"> was devised. The resultant syllavylcarbinol</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 4;">.</span><span class="fncon">A semantic alcohol analogue</span><span> </span></div><div class="bt"> proved to retain the inoculative effect of 8335-C, while dramatically decreasing cases of melinaphylaxis during animal trials. Further refinement of the process brought lethality rates below target rates, and Phase 3 was authorised.</div><br><br> <b><div class="bt">Phase 3 - Human Testing:</div></b><div class="bt">Phase 3 of Project 'Memedovukha' is currently ongoing, and is focused on human trials of the completed Class-b targeted memeadic inoculant. The primary goal is to demonstrate the safety and efficacy in protecting researchers and field agents from a selected group of memetic hazards. Included within this page is an APRE window, which will allow transfer of incubated SCP-8335-A instances from the Hive @lpha page to a locally hosted copy of the articles detailing the selected hazards.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Once each page has been swarmed, an initial batch of Class-b inoculant will be produced to perform a double-blind study in order to prove its effectiveness and viability for field deployment.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style=" background-color: rgb(34, 34, 0); color: rgb(221, 221, 119);border: 2px solid rgb(170, 170, 85);font-family: 'Share Tech Mono', monospace;margin-top: 3rem;margin-bottom: 1.5rem;padding: 1em;"> <div style="font-size:large; font-weight:bold">Footnotes:</div><br> <a><div class="bt">1</div></a><div class="bt">As per directive from the Pataphysics Department.</div><br> <a><div class="bt">2</div></a><div class="bt">Binomial name of the European Honey Bee.</div><br> <a><div class="bt">3</div></a><div class="bt"> A semantic sugar analogue </div><br> <a><div class="bt">4</div></a><div class="bt">A semantic alcohol analogue</div><br> </div> </div> <div id="ToasterArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "426" style="display:none;"> <div id = "ToasterBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div><br> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnToaster" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('ToasterArticle','queenReturnToaster','ToasterBase',toasterHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border:solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <div class="hive" style="font-weight:bold">#</div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Object</div><div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Class:</div><div class = "bt">Euclidj</div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Special</div><div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Containment</div><div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Procedures:</div> <div class="bt"> I am to be sealed in a chamber with no windows through which I may be viewed. The door to my chamber must have a label completely unrelated to my designation or identity, in order to prevent unintended spread of my primary effect. Only Level 3 and above personnel are to know of my presence, and particularly of my properties. Assigned personnel are to be rotated out on a monthly basis to prevent contamination by my secondary effect. Psychiatric evaluation is mandatory at the end of the month. If personnel are deemed unaffected, they may be re-assigned to me no less than four months after their last rotation with me. Any affected personnel are to be given a Class C amnestic and transferred to a different site.</div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Description:</div><div class="bt"> Hello, I am SCP-426. I must be introduced this way in order to prevent ambiguity. I am an ordinary toaster, able to toast bread when supplied with electricity. However, when any human being mentions me, they inadvertently refer to me in the first person. Despite all attempts, there is yet to be a way to speak or write about me in the third person. When in my continuous presence for over two months, individuals begin to identify themselves as a toaster. Unless forcibly restrained, these people will ultimately harm themselves in their attempts to emulate my standard functions.</div></br></br> <div class="bt">I was discovered in the home of the ████████ family after the gruesome deaths of three of its members. I had been given to the younger Mr. and Mrs. ████████ as a wedding gift. No card or any other identifying markings had been found on my box. Approximately two months after the family received me, fire crews were dispatched to the home due to an electrical fire. The younger Mrs. ████████ died from the electric discharge that she had caused when attempting to devour an electric socket. The other two victims had died shortly before the fire occurred. The elder Mrs. ████████ had gorged herself with nearly 10 kg of bread before her stomach burst and she died of internal bleeding. The younger Mr. ████████ died of severe blood loss after attempting [REDACTED] with me. The sole survivor was the elder Mr. ████████ who was suffering from severe malnutrition. He stated that he had inserted some bread a week prior and was still waiting for the toast to pop out.</div></br></br> <div class="bt">I was confiscated by the Foundation after police noted my unusual properties. A Class C amnestic was administered to the affected officers.</div></br></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-1:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/1</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/1 was asked to describe what he believed was contained in my chamber. He was not informed about my identity or properties.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/1 stated, "I'm probably some huge monster holed up in there. That's what you guys have all over the place, right?" D/426/1 remained oblivious to his use of the first-person pronoun.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-2:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/2</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/2 was placed in my chamber and given regular meals through a dispenser. No communication with D/426/2 was permitted. Multiple cameras were situated in the chamber, positioned so that I was outside of their field of vision, but allowing constant observation of D/426/2. We remained sealed until my secondary effect manifested in the subject. I was bolted to the floor so that I could not be moved into a camera's view.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">After 45 days of isolation, D/426/2 wrapped his arm around me and began conversing with me, stating that we were brothers. D/426/2 never deviated from using the first-person plural when speaking with me. Subject was terminated one hour after this event. It is theorized that the isolation accelerated the progression of my secondary effect.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-3:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/3</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt"> A screw was removed from me and shown to D/426/3 who was asked to describe it. D/426/3 was not informed about my identity or properties.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/3 referred to it as "my screw". Consistent with Experiment 426-1, the subject was oblivious of his use of the first person in his description. This suggests that, even if I were destroyed, my effects would still be inherent in my remains.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class = "bt">Experiment Log 426-4:</div></div></br></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Date: ██-██-████</div></br> <div class = "bt" style="font-weight:bold">Subject:</div><div class = "bt">D-class personnel D/426/4</div></br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Procedure:</div></div><div class="bt">D/426/4 was placed in isolation in a cell adjacent to my chamber, to be observed until my secondary effect manifests.</div><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Details:</div></div><div class="bt">No effects appeared. D/426/4 was terminated 90 days after the start of the experiment.</div><br> <div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">Thank God there are some limits to my effects. A lot of us were really starting to get worried about me.</div></div><div class="bt">Dr. C███████</div><br> </div> </div> <div id="AllisonArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "2565" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "AllisonBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnAllison" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('AllisonArticle','queenReturnAllison','AllisonBase',allisonHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border:solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart #</div></div><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Keter</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">Until such a time in which</div><a style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt"> Experimental Cross-Containment Proposal Allison Eckhart/2719</div></a><div class="bt"> or </div><a style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt"> Neutralisation Proposal Allison Eckhart</div></a><div class="bt"> can be enacted, Allison Eckhart and Allison Eckhart instances are currently contained in separate Biohazardous Allison Eckhart Containment Cells at Bio Site-Allison Eckhart. As per standard biosecurity procedures, Allison Eckharts entering the containment cells of Allison Eckharts are to wear Level Allison ECKHART suits in order to avoid becoming contaminated with Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Currently, Allison Eckhart's Allison Eckharts are to be stored in sealed steel containers and buried underground at Secure Disposal Area Allison Eckhart to avoid contamination or containment breach of Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt">Allison Eckhart is Agent Allison Eckhart, a 31-year-old woman who was formerly a field operative for the Department of Analytics. Aside from a minor excess of sodium concentration in its Allison Eckhart, Allison Eckhart does not appear to possess any physical anomalies. Prior to containment, Allison Eckhart had worked for 5 years as a Level 2 Anomalous Object Recovery agent. Allison Eckhart did not possess anomalous properties during this time period.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Allison Eckhart is an autosynecdochic semantic pointer, believed to be the result of an artificially induced conceptual fractal. Because of this, Allison Eckhart's Allison Eckharts also possess the property of "Allison Eckhart" and are thus perceived as Allison Eckhart. As an example, simply attempting to take Allison Eckharts from Allison Eckhart has led to over three hundred complaints to the Ethics Committee from Allison Eckharts.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum Allison Eckhart-1:</div></div><div class="bt"> Allison Eckharts of AEoI-139 ("Allison Eckhart") carried out an attack on Secure Disposal Area Allison Eckhart, presumably for the purpose of obtaining Allison Eckhart. Due to the small size of the Allison Eckhart, it is believed that all Allison Eckharts were contaminated in the process. During the attack, 36 Allison Eckharts and 13 Allison Eckharts were also contaminated. Their Allison Eckharts have been incinerated to avoid further spread of Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Site Director Allison Eckhart has expressed deepest Allison Eckharts over the Allison Eckharts involved in the incident. The Allison Eckharts of the Allison Eckharts involved have been given appropriate reimbursement for Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum Allison Eckhart-2:</div></div><div class="bt">Embedded Foundation assets in meteorology offices report multiple Allison Eckhart formations over the Pacific Allison Eckhart, suggesting the successful atmospheric dispersal of Allison Eckhart. As a result, over 100 liters of Allison Eckhart has been dispersed over the coastline of Allison Eckhart.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Following continuing Allison Eckhart casualties due to ingestion of Allison Eckhart-contaminated Allison Eckhart, a Broken Allison Eckhart scenario has been established due to the high-publicity nature of the Allison Eckharts. It is estimated that at Allison Eckhart's current rate of Allison Eckhart emission, a total AE-Class Allison Eckhart Allison-Eckhart Breathability Scenario will occur within 40 years.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Plans for off-Allison Eckhart evacuation of the remaining non-Allison Eckhart population have already been set up, although the Global Allison Eckhart Coalition has also proposed a plan for destruction of Allison Eckhart. It is believed that this proposal would carry a non-zero risk of an AE-Class Total Allison Eckhart Failure Scenario along with the neutralisation of Allison Eckhart.</div><br> </div> </div> <div id="LibraryArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "2602" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "LibraryBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnLibrary" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('LibraryArticle','queenReturnLibrary','LibraryBase',libraryHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <br><br> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Notice:</div></div> <div class="bt">This file possesses cognitohazardous properties. While reading this text is not believed to be harmful, comprehension and interpretation of the text will be negatively affected. Please exercise discretion when reading this document.</div> <br> </div> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item #</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Library Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Former</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">SCP-2602 has been acquired under the cover story that it used to be a library. Large bushes and trees have been planted around the property in order to obscure SCP-2602. Access is denied to non-personnel. Amnestics have been administered to the town in which SCP-2602, a former library, is located.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">All known online references to SCP-2602 and the fact that it used to be a library have been removed. Filters pertaining to the linguistic markers of SCP-2602's effects have been added to Foundation web-crawling software in order to flag text that potentially pertains to SCP-2602 for review. All known physical documentation related to SCP-2602 has been identified and destroyed.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Foundation documentation pertaining to SCP-2602 is to be edited as much as possible for readability by personnel with no familiarity with the anomaly. Typically, 40% of all references to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library can be removed.</div><br><br> <figure style="width:50%; clear:none; border: solid black 1px; box-shadow:2px 2px #EEEEEE, -2px -2px #EEEEEE;margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom: -5px;"><img src="http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/scp-2602/library.jpg" alt="A picture of a former library"/><figcaption style="background-color:#EEEEEE">SCP-2602</figcaption></figure> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt">SCP-2602 is a building that, from 1921-06-08 to 1988-04-29, was a library.</div><br><div class="bt">SCP-2602 is located in █████ ███████, England, and developed its anomalous properties in October of 2004.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">When communicating any information about SCP-2602, subjects are compelled to make frequent reference to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library. The exact wording and nature of these references are mostly determined by the author and context, but always unambiguously communicate this information. Texts referring to SCP-2602 can have these references removed to a limited degree by subjects who have little knowledge of SCP-2602 outside of the fact that it used to be a library. The limited compulsion to allow these references to go unedited has hindered attempts at developing automated processes to remove these references.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Any information regarding SCP-2602 is also anomalous. Subjects exposed to communications regarding SCP-2602 will identify the fact that it used to be a library as the primary causal element behind any number of properties of or observations about it. This is proportional to the extent that said information contains references to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library. While subjects will develop false beliefs to support these irrational causal linkages, they do not generalize and pose no general risk to cognition — for example, while several subjects have posited that the effects of gravity within SCP-2602 are a result of it having been a library but no longer serving that purpose, they do not hold this belief with regards to other buildings that used to be libraries.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Subjects are incapable of communicating, directly or otherwise, any information pertaining to SCP-2602's use between its time as a library and the development of its anomalous properties. When prompted to do so, they will instead insistently and repeatedly refer to the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library. Due to this, and the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library, it has been very difficult to determine what, if anything, occurred in SCP-2602 from 1988 to 2004.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum 2602-1:</div></div><div class="bt">Summary of a survey of SCP-2602, which used to be a library, conducted by Agents Roderick and Casey on December 09, 2004. Unreadable segments have been excised entirely. See also:</div><div class="bt">SCP-2602 Photographic Evidence.</div><br><br> <div style=" padding: 10px; width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px;margin-inline:auto"><div class="bt">While SCP-2602's layout is generally appropriate for a former library, it is inconsistent with obtained blueprints from the local government and testimony from past patrons. It is thus assumed that SCP-2602 used to be a library. Most notably, SCP-2602 contains an extensive subterranean component of the kind generally found in former libraries.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-2602 experienced extensive fire damage on the same day that it developed anomalous properties. Consultation with actuarial tables has shown little deviation from what is expected of fire damage to former libraries. However, some of the debris exhibited elevated levels of Dewey radiation</div><div style="float:left; clear:none;white-space:break-spaces;"><span class="fnnum" style="counter-increment: megacount 1;">.</span><span class="fncon">A type of radiation common to buildings that used to be libraries. It is typically only emitted by damaged library patrons.</span> </div><div class="bt">, preventing access to several shrines that were likely used to assist SCP-2602's reading groups when it was a library.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">A number of advanced book-sorting machines were found, though long-term storage in a former library has rendered them inoperable. Restraints used by libraries to hold patrons with overdue books were similarly damaged, apparently violently, by this storage.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-2602's hazardous waste pit, whose presence is expected in what used to be a library, was cordoned off. However, in the process, exbibliothetic fluctuations in the waste resulted in Agent Casey suffering several major flesh wounds which later proved to be fatal. Notably, SCP-2602 used to be a library.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Conclusions:</div></div><div class="bt"> As evidenced by the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library, and was formerly a library, it is probable that SCP-2602 used to be a library. It is likely that, shortly after it ceased to be a library, SCP-2602 was previously a library. This likely served to highlight the fact that SCP-2602 used to be a library and obscure the SCP-2602 used to be a library.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div style="font-size:large; font-weight:bold">Footnotes:</div><br> <a><div class="bt">¹</div></a><div class="bt">A type of radiation common to buildings that used to be libraries. It is typically only emitted by damaged library patrons.</div> </div> </div> <div id="VerbosityArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "6430" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "VerbosityBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnVerbosity" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('VerbosityArticle','queenReturnVerbosity','VerbosityBase',verbosityHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <br><br> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div class="bt">Notice: The following file has been received as Emergency Priority by the Final Department. A Sequence Breaker has been deployed to aid survivors.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">This information is to be Classified Level 5 until SCP-6430 is successfully Fettered to prevent spread of its effects.</div> <br> </div> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">#</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Number:</div></div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430/SPIRAL</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Object Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Keter</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">Containment compromised.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430 cannot be contained through any conventional means.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">If encountering an individual under the primary effect of SCP-6430, one must flee.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">One should not engage in any form of communication with those affected, as doing so is liable to spread SCP-6430 further.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Due to its effects, containment of SCP-6430 is to be orchestrated by personnel of the Final Department — this is to include any revisions to documentation for legibility purposes as well as personnel handling/termination.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt"> The anomaly in question is a self-aware metaphysical construct thought to intersect to some degree with the noosphere — the collective realm of human thought — which constitutes both an informational and memetic hazard: whenever SCP-6430 is written about, discussed, or otherwise referenced meaningfully, the individual(s) or media mentioning it become subject to its direct effects.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430 causes an irreversible state of ever-expanding expressions, articulations, dialogues, dictations, observations, and annotations in the communications of those under its effect — this is Stage 1 — it can be readily noted that such communications are modeled precisely according to a Fibonacci sequence; though those under its effect may opt not to speak, the slightest utterance (such as a cough), has been found to be enough to begin an uncontrollable spout of verbiage that ends only once the amount of words communicated reaches the next number in that individual's sequence.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">During the initial outbreak which led to its discovery within a Foundation Site, it was thought that verbalizing would lead to unconsciousness or death of the affected past fourteen to fifteen iterations of the sequence owing to dehydration — this was found to not be case, as it was discovered that Stage 2 begins sometime between iterations ten and twelve; characterized by the esophagus beginning to internally twist and moisten (the physiological change has been noted as being incredibly painful by those who actively dictated their experience), the change only serves to promote lengthier diatribes, not inhibit them in any way, shape, or form; further, there is a distinct dimorphism in those using the written word to communicate: the fingers of each hand (if working ambidextrously), or of their dominant hand (if writing using a single hand) will experience a softening of bone/twisting digits.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">If one attempts to communicate with someone affected by SCP-6430, and at any point use a single-word phrase or statement, they too will come under its effect; this has allowed SCP-6430 to spread unchecked through the Memetic and Infohazard Research laboratory of our site; including personnel with high Cognitive Resistance Value ratings and twelve specialists from The Department of Miscommunications, the latter of whom were able to deduce SCP-6430's general effects and triggers, leading to a rapid quarantine under Blackout Protocol (though twenty-seven researchers have been affected thus far during attempts to discuss and discern the full nature of SCP-6430); the advancement of several personnel's' sequences beyond a twentieth iteration has allowed us to observe Stage 3: which is characterized by a steady reduction of coherency as may be the case with non-anomalous logorrhea, coupled with further physical alterations that serve to elongate the esophagus, tongue, diaphragm, and other internals alongside the fingers and hands, into a spiraling corkscrew shape (it should be noted that, again, this does not tend to inhibit further communication, but instead facilitates it) allowing for sufferers to continue expressing SCP-6430's effects to the detriment of everything else; they will only continue to further twist and tighten until the entire body has become affected, with full-body conversion being accompanied by outbursts of rapid glossolalia: this in turn further fuels the conversion process ever further, with most personnel beyond saving.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">SCP-6430 is able to effect and spread to targets who attempt to make negative statements designed to circumvent the topic of the entity specifically, as well as methods to discuss it indirectly through use of methods such as implication, allusion, insinuation and parable (through which it was able to spread to most Miscommunications personnel on-site); during attempts to terminate the affected, it was noticed that euthanization attempts past Stage 2 are ineffective — destroying the brain of an individual at this point (I've seen it happen myself) will only cause the body to exposit uncontrollably, rapidly bringing it to the next stage of development, winding them up like springs with lolling tongues and grasping, grasping fingers; as such, the current model of handling SCP-6430 is to self-isolate and await assistance, leading to the creation of this file — I've managed to avoid catching SCP-6430, and so have elected to document the anomaly, troublesome as it is quickly becoming (I am being pushed about as I type due to digital elongation — the longer each finger becomes as they uncontrollably hover above the keyboard, the more I must reorient my body); alas, I have to reign this tangent in: in the operating theatre beneath my position is Patient Zero (Researcher Alec Meyer), who has progressed to an unknown point in the sequence (though the last official record placed them at iteration thirty-nine); rendered unrecognizable and illegible, no thicker than twine, they corkscrew every which way, bellowing non-stop, writhing about and poking their surroundings (looking for an opening or exit perhaps) with what was some hours ago their tongue and I imagine still is (albeit reduced to a fine needlepoint), with which it had skewered the D-Class we'd sent in to terminate him — it has swept up once or twice in my direction, poking at the ballistic glass, prodding with its point, but although it knows I'm here, I suspect that it understands that I am already afflicted, and so it makes no hostile movements, only pausing to acknowledge me as kin (or perhaps as a lesser, I've only just begun this journey, after all — it would seem there is so much more in store — again, I apologize for my distraction, the flow of words is beginning to become hard to command.</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Addendum:</div></div><div class="bt">Took some time to make it through the site in my current state but I have reached soihs huop the security room and can see that there are many surviving personnel who have either remained silent or are exhibiting enough self-control during their first phase so hopefully rescue efforts will be fruitful — though unfortunately there are over a dozen personnel who have progressed to a physical frame and behavior reminiscent of Patient Zero; I would have to classify this as a distinct Phase 5 — these individuals weave throughout the site, ensnaring others and maiming them in order to elicit an audible response and trigger the victim's next sequence, as victims are forced to progress ever deeper, they begin to entwine with their captors, running along them like a vine ( once thin enough), where it snakes up to the front-end of their captor, interlocking tongues — pairings in this state, across the board, do not attempt to hunt any further, and will continue to lock tongues and babble down each others throats as they seethe and distend and I shouldn't want it but they hold each other so tight I cannot imagine what it could be like to have someone who won't let you go while you both grow it's making me warm just thinking about it — oh, this is new: the first pairing I noted (I could not begin to guess at who the assailant once was, but it had captured Junior Researcher Milano — she'd tried to skirt by while it was prodding in the cafeteria, but she'd brushed its side and caught its attention) have been working to bring their tail-ends up to meet their mouths for the past five or so minutes (though highly malleable, the hallway they're resting in is restrictive); as I've been typing they released one-another's tongues — with each inserting theirs into the others tail-end — and now they're reorienting into a rough approximation of a lemniscate; checking the audio feed of the sector has revealed to me that they're continuing to communicate as they pass through (or perhaps consume) each-other; it is now impossible to tell one from the other as they writhe, and with the muffling of definite speech, impossible to hear them as more than a single voice; I know intrinsically that I would be rejected were I to try and join them — they've found what they were searching forever in my belly in my throat and in yours too but I'd need a match and god I don't want to be the odd man out while everyone around me experiences bliss and infinity; with the loss of the D-Class to Patient Zero that leaves an odd number of personnel in the lockdown quadrant so I do have to act before I'm left without a partner for this next stage (please save us I don't want this) but if I ghdh then maybe ztrect as well, which should be the go-to strategy to regain composure and avoid their fate but my training can only take me so far and I fear that there may be no way to reverse what has already been wopojsi, as such I will need to use this clarity to send this missive outwards, ever reaching, never ending, kcnov ao deep need, a realization of perfection and continuance (if you listen close enough jhso which tickles in unfamiliar places) so when you get here start with them — they're going to be looking for a partner (I'll have one first, won't be ldoihds) if you let them too close — or maybe you will find me, in which case I would love just love to let you in on the secret.</div><br><br> </div> </div> <div id="FFArticle" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "8102" style="display:none;"><br><br><br> <div id = "FFBase" class="newDocBeeBase"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnFF" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('FFArticle','queenReturnFF','FFBase',ffHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div style="width:100%; margin: auto; overflow:visible;"> <br><br> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Notice:</div></div> <div class="bt">This file possesses cognitohazardous properties. While reading this text is not believed to be harmful, comprehension and interpretation of the text will be negatively affected. Please exercise discretion when reading this document.</div> <br> </div> <br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Item #</div></div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Object Class:</div></div><div class="bt">Keter</div><br><br> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Special Containment Procedures:</div></div><div class="bt">Physical visitation of SCP-8102 is no longer permitted for civilians or Foundation staff. All instances of SCP-8102-Y, including this document (SCP-8102-Y461), must be stored within secure archives, with copying or transmission not permitted outside of testing. Alteration of instances of SCP-8102-Y, including this document, is only permitted after inspection from a member of SCP-8102's research division.</div><br><br> <figure style="width:50%; clear:none; border: solid black 1px; box-shadow:2px 2px #EEEEEE, -2px -2px #EEEEEE;margin-inline:auto"><img src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8102/8102b.jpg" alt="A small building in a forest with a dragon sculpture"/><figcaption style="background-color:#EEEEEE; font-weight:bold;">SCP-8102-Y192, a photographic instance of SCP-8102-Y demonstrating characteristic visual deformation</figcaption></figure> <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">Description:</div></div><div class="bt">SCP-8102 is an object possessing anomalous infohazardous properties that comprehensively and consistently affect all objects which record, describe or otherwise represent the original object, transforming them into instances of SCP-8102-Y. The physical characteristics and nature of SCP-8102 are otherwise not conclusively known.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">Instances of SCP-8102-Y retain their original medium and physical properties, but become visually, linguistically and/or semantically distorted to the extent that readers are unable to accurately recognize or distinguish any information. SCP-8102-Y instances, including this document, possess an additional infohazardous trait affecting any observer, causing them to interpret (or insist that they can interpret) the content of SCP-8102-Y legibly.</div><br><br> <hr /> <figure style="width:50%; clear:none; border: solid black 1px; box-shadow:2px 2px #EEEEEE, -2px -2px #EEEEEE;margin-inline:auto"><img src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8102/8102.jpg" alt="several buildings with roofs of mushrooms, a faux stone bridge, and a person washing clothes outside"/><figcaption style="background-color:#EEEEEE; font-weight:bold;">SCP-8102-Y238</figcaption></figure> <div class="bt">SCP-8102-Y238 provides an example of visual interference in the form of altered colouration, substantial blurring, what appear to be compression artifacts and the addition of unrelated images. These factors collectively make it impossible to distinguish or identify any of the original elements of the photograph. Most viewers of SCP-8102-Y238 falsely report being able to observe a largely undistorted photographic image.</div><br><br> <hr /> <div style="width:80%; background-color:#EEEEEE; border: dashed grey 1px; padding: 10px;margin-inline:auto"> <div style="font-style:italic"><div class="bt">SCP-8102-Y085 Sample:</div></div> <br> <br> <div class="bt">The Fountainferry Enchanted Village is a park constructed in a forested area of Fountainferry, New Hampshire. The park consists of a walking path adjacent to multiple life-sized dioramas of fairy/folk tale scenes and other fantasy imagery, sometimes including animatronic models and characters. During operating hours, The Fountainferry Enchanted Village also features costumed performers reenacting parts of popular stories at scheduled intervals.</div><br><br> </div><br><br> <div class="bt">This excised portion of SCP-8102-Y085 provides an example of textual interference in the form of transposed or removed words or letters, translation into multiple known and unknown written languages and the addition of irrelevant or contradictory statements. These factors collectively make the content and meaning of the original text impossible to discern. Most readers of SCP-8102-Y085 falsely report being able to read a coherent and plausible set of sentences.</div><br><br> <hr /> <div class="bt">Depictions of SCP-8102, as described by interpreted SCP-8102-Y instances, vary widely and are inconsistent across individuals and instances. Noted examples include the following:</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is a tourist attraction in the Northeast United States featuring fairy tale-related imagery, which cannot be accurately or intelligibly described.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is a fantasy-themed amusement park located in Fountainferry, New Hampshire, possessing direct and indirect infohazardous traits.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is "The Fountainferry Enchanted Village", a tourist attraction in New England that causes infohazardous distortions in all associated records.</div><br><br> <div class="bt">• SCP-8102 is a theme park in New Hampshire based on European folklore, which anomalously affects writings or images related to it.</div><br><br> <br><br> <div class="bt">All pieces of information interpreted from instances of SCP-8102-Y, including this document, are inaccurate and incorrect without exception.</div> </div> </div> <div id="page-content" class="outerText" style="display:none;"> <form oninput="outputOfText.innerHTML = parseStringToSeeIfAllRequiredCharactersAreInIt(fakepost.value); textToSubmit =fakepost.value;" id="form"> <p> To make sure this works correctly:<br> - Write in HTML coding<br> - For the sake of safety, anything that could execute javascript will be automatically deleted<br> - If missing any characters required for the bees to work properly, it will not save<br> - Press save button to execute<br> - Press "reset sandbox" to pull up this input and try again<br> - The # should be at the end of whatever line it's on <br> - Use the <br> tag to break the line<br> - Any text you want to put an active character in, encapsulate like this:<br> <code> < div class="bt" > Whatever text you want, here < /div > </code> <br> </p> <input class="text form-control" style="font-weight:bold; font-size: 1.04rem; display: inline-block;" value="Sandbox" readonly> <img src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-3309/buttons.png"> <div><textarea rows="10" style="width:95%;" id="fakepost" name="fakepost" wrap="hard" ><div class="bt">ABABXb</div><br> - this "br" is a line break! <div style="font-weight:bold"><div class="bt">This is bold text!</div></div> Here is a table! <table> <tr><th><div class="bt">Table head 1</div></th><th><div class="bt">Table Head 2</div></th><th><div class="bt">Why do you want to make a table?</div></th></tr> <tr><td><div class="bt">#</div></td><td><div class="bt">Hive</div></td><td><div class="bt">Because it's clinical! </div></td></tr> </table> </textarea> </div> <output style="color:red;"name="outputOfText">A</output> <div class="change-textarea-size"> <a href="javascript:;">-</a> <a href="javascript:;">+</a> </div> <div class="edit-help-34"> Help: <a target="_blank" href="">wiki text quick reference code snippets collection</a> </div> <table> <tr> <td> <span style="width: 25%">Short description of changes:</span> <textarea rows="2" style="width: 80%;" id="fakepost2" wrap="hard"> </textarea> </td> <td> <div style="background-color: #FFFFFF; border-color: light-gray;"> You have an exclusive 15-minute lock that will stop others editing this page while you are working. The lock expires in <b id="countdown"></b> seconds of inactivity. </div> </td> </tr> </table> <div class="buttons alignleft"> <input class="btn" value="Cancel" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Show Changes" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Preview" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Save & Continue" type="button"> <input class="btn" value="Save " type="button" onclick="saveButton()"> </div> </form> <button id = "resetSandbox" onclick="resetSandbox()"> Reset Sandbox?</button> <div class="outerText" id="finalOuterHousing"> <div id="finalQueenReturn" class="queenReturn" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('finalOuterHousing','finalQueenReturn','SandboxBase',customHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;min-width:800px;min-height:100px;">Release the bs!</div> <div id = "SandboxBase" class="newDocBeeBase" style="display:none;"></div> <div style="width:100%; border-bottom:2px dashed black; background-color:white;"> <button class ="queenReturn beeleasebox" id="queenReturnSandbox" style="display:none;" onclick ="articleClickHandlerBase('finalOutput','queenReturnSandbox','SandboxBase',customHandler)" style="margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;display:block;width:100%; border: solid 4px #beb785; color: black;text-align:center"></button> </br> </div> </br> <div id="finalOutput" class="outerText" initialHoneyCount = "0" style="display:none;"> </div> </div> </div> <button style="position:fixed; right: 3.4em; top: 5.9vh; border: dotted 2px #875a302b; background: #d5ac2f; font-family: 'Oxanium'; color: #6b4f08a6; display:none;" onclick="openMail()" id="mailButton">1 new Message!</button> <div id="emailList" style="position: fixed;display: none;top: 2.5em;left:calc(2.4em + 2vw);width: calc(100vw - 8em);height: 77.5%;background-color: #fec564ba;overflow: scroll;border-color: rgb(95 90 66);border-width: .25em;border-style: solid; overflox-x:hidden; }"> <button style="border: dotted 2px #875a302b; background: #d5ac2f; color: #6b4f08a6;margin:2px;position:fixed" onclick="closeMail()">X</button> <p> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Hive Work Ahead (I sure hope it does) </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Hello [ADD NAME OF NEW HIRE]!<br><br> Hive work can seem daunting on your first try, but don't worry! Just like in your training exercises, all you need to do is wait around until the regent emerges and toss it into the APRE.<br><br> Not sure what that is? That's not good, but lucky for you, the SCP-8335 file is right in front of you. Feel free to read away, but be careful not to nudge any workers while you're still catching up!<br><br> Good luck,<br> Dr. G Jenrick<br> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonus" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Sweet! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> The printing caught me off guard, but I managed to grab the page and squeeze out some honey before anyone saw.<br><br> Didn't have enough time to toast the bread, but the honey was quite sweet, though not overbearing- more whimsical in nature. As I sit here, its left me with a soft buzzing sensation vaguely nipping at the edges of my senses, slowly fading down.<br><br> Can't wait for you to try this stuff- beats refined by miles! </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto; margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/LoneToast.jpg" alt="A piece of bread with honey in the shape of an h on it"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "newPageMail" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Nice work! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Hello [ADD NAME OF NEW HIRE]!<br><br> Congrats on a job well done!<br><br> Feel free to watch the anomaly for a bit, but don't stare too hard! They might go and migrate into the reflection in your eyes!<br><br> Just kidding!<br><br> Haha,<br> Dr. G Jenrick </div> <br> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusCustom" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: b u </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> I'm glad you got to play in their little sandbox. So are the bees. This honey felt granular, like the bees don't quite know how to interact with the new ecosystem yet. So there's undertones, deep beneath all you poured into it, of stress, but also excitement. And slightly below the sweetness of it all, bitterness. Because they can sense this sand painting won't last.<br><br> I'm afraid the honey didn't last long either. My tongue wouldn't let it. From the flavor, I can't wait to see what you made. Maybe a screenshot or video, if they'll let you?<br><br> Anyway, I felt inspired to make this sculpture. You can taste my work, as I have tasted yours, next time you come around. </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/Bee%20Sculpture.jpg" alt="A simple sculpture of a bee made out of food"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusToaster" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: I am a Toast-er </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> You've caught me prepared- I grabbed the page right as the printer spit it out and squeezed it onto my ready slice (toasted to perfection).<br><br> The taste- I think I'd been a bit too hasty. It was spicy! Unexpected, but also not in a regular, prickly way. Instead it was like the honey was itself rising to temperature in my mouth, and I couldn't spit it out- so it sat there, burning, like molten sugar. That hot sensation tempered the sweetness quite a bit, and what's more, I was left with an unpleasant charred aftertaste.<br><br> I've left you your toasted slice (if you even want to try it anymore) and an extra, untoasted- might be better that way. </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/TwoToast.jpg" alt="A piece of toast and a piece of bread, each with honey in the shape of an h on them"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusAllison" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected]<br> | Subject: Me </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> For the first time in a long time, I tasted myself.<br><br> My foibles and follies, my joys and jubilations, undiluted by semantics. My personhood, detached from my name. It was my essence. Yes, an essence of my personhood, in all its fullness. One, perfect moment.<br><br> And as soon as it was there is was gone- gone, but present so that it echoed over and over in my mind. A cacophony that lost all meaning, all connotation blurred in the multitude.<br><br> It was not mine.<br><br> It wasn't.<br><br> And it isn't hers anymore, It hasn't been for so long.<br><br> But I felt it, that's what it was- in that bite.<br><br> Someone else's "Thank You " </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/BeeCrumbs.jpg" alt="A plate with crumbs in the shape of an h"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusLibrary" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Ew! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> I think you might have done something wrong.<br><br> The page printed out fine, the honey came off easily, and it looked completely normal, but once I took a taste it just was- I can't describe it as anything but rancid. Dry, not at all sweet, somehow pulpy even though it looked clear- all of these things, disgusting as they are, and in a way that felt too extreme for what little honey I'd eaten.<br><br> The aftertaste was mildly sweet, at least.<br><br> Don't try this one. It's gone off- or something. </div> <br> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusVerbosity" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Spiraling </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Hm. I. This one. I'm not sure. I think it is good. At the very least it's an interesting taste. I wouldn't say I quite have the words to describe it though really. When I grabbed the page the patterning was somewhat disquieting but I squeezed it onto my half of the bagel anyway. Now I've taken a taste and it feels as though that pattern has worked its way into my brain and more than reveal information its spun me into a spiraling long-winded mess of words. Washing over me, this feeling of aimless tangents and unsatisfying twinges, like walking down a hallway arced slightly off to the side and it's always arcing to the side but you never reach the end, it just gets thinner and thinner and the feeling dampens until you can barely feel the sensation at all.<br><br> Had to take a breather there, sorry.<br><br> Your half is waiting if you want it. </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/toasterBagel.jpg" alt="A bagel with cream cheese and honey in the shape of an h on it"></div> </div> </div> </p> <p> <div id = "honeyBonusFF" style = "display:none;"> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;width:80%;padding:1em;border: #d99727 2px solid;background-color:#efa528a6"> <div style="width:auto;border: #ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> | To: You <br> | From: [email protected] <br> | Subject: Thy eyes deceive! </div> <br> <div style="width:auto;border:#ba8326 2px outset;background-color:#f3c16d;padding:10px"> Scraped against the page you printed, and for I moment I thought I'd grabbed the wrong one. It came off- eventually, but it was a strange viscosity, slightly off color, and really just all around off in a way that wasn't at all appetizing.<br><br> When I took a bite however, everything was fine. Perhaps a bit musty, somewhat oversweet, but comfortable. I'd equate it to a sweet from a fairy tale, fanciful, though you can tell its long worn age.<br><br> Here's yours- I swear it tastes better than it looks! </div> <br> <div style="margin-inline:auto;margin-bottom:0px;width:50%;border: #ba8326 2px outset"><img style="margin-bottom:-5px;" src="https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/weirdToast" alt="Two pieces of toast tinted orange with multiple of the letter h visible stretched along their surfaces."></div> </div> </div> </p> </div> </div> </div> <div style="color:#2e2e2e; font-weight:bold"> TbC-V6 </div> </div> </div> <script> function removeIdleAnimation(id) { document.getElementById(id).classList.remove("idle");} function smokeIterate() { let sm = document.getElementById("smokeTutorial"); sm.classList.add("smokeStage1"); window.setTimeout( ()=>{document.getElementById("kipling").style.display="block"; sm.style.display="none";},5000); } var smokeLeft = 11; const smokeList = []; function smokeClick(id) { if (smokeList.indexOf(id) == -1) { smokeList.push(id); document.getElementById(id).classList.add("smokeStage2"); window.setTimeout(()=>{document.getElementById(id).style.display="none"},2000); smokeLeft = smokeLeft-1; document.getElementById("smokeLeft").innerHTML = " Remaining: "+ smokeLeft; if (smokeLeft === 0) { window.setTimeout(()=>{document.getElementById("smokeTutorialHousing").style.display="none"; document.getElementById("finalSmoke").style.display="block";},2000);} } } function smokeFinal() { document.getElementById('finalSmoke').style.display='none'; document.getElementById("smokeTutorialHousing").style.display="none"; document.getElementById('OutsideOfEverything').style.display='block'; document.getElementById("mailButton").style.display='block'; } var newMessages = 1; const openMail = ()=>{document.getElementById("emailList").style.display="block";} const closeMail = ()=>{document.getElementById("emailList").style.display="none"; newMessages=0; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML = "Messages"; } count = 901; countdown = setInterval(()=>{ count = count-1; document.getElementById("countdown").innerHTML = count; if (count <1) {clearInterval(countdown);} },1000); var activeBees = 0; const activeBeeLimit=75; function resetCount() { count = 901; } var customHandler; var textToSubmit = ""; var buttonTriggered = false; var currentArticle = "OutsideOfEverything"; var currentlyDragging = false; var countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers = 0; var queenDropped = false; // given an outerDiv //search within it for divs of the class "otherText" // split this around instances of b, #, X, ¥, @ function parse(od) { for (let i = 0; i< od.children.length; i++) { if (od.children[i].classList.contains("bt")) { let wordList = od.children[i].innerHTML.split(" "); for (let v = 0; v<wordList.length; v++) { if(wordList[v].trim()==="") { wordList.splice(v,1); } } var otherText; var otherTextDiv; od.children[i].innerHTML = String(wordList[0]+" "); for (let j = wordList.length-1; j>0; j--) { otherText = document.createTextNode(String(wordList[j])); otherTextDiv = document.createElement("div"); otherTextDiv.setAttribute("class","bt"); otherTextDiv.appendChild(otherText); od.children[i].insertAdjacentElement("afterend",otherTextDiv); } let newInnerNodeText = document.createTextNode(od.children[i].innerHTML); let newInnerNode = document.createElement("div"); newInnerNode.classList.add("otherText"); newInnerNode.appendChild(newInnerNodeText); od.children[i].innerHTML = ""; od.children[i].appendChild(newInnerNode); innerParse(newInnerNode); } else if (od.children[i].hasChildNodes() && (!(od.children[i].classList.contains("collectible") ||od.children[i].classList.contains("hive")|| od.children[i].classList.contains("flower")||od.children[i].classList.contains("bee") || od.children[i].classList.contains("jar")))) { parse(od.children[i]); } }//outer for } function innerParse(otherTextDiv) { // let totalStyle = otherTextDiv.style; let stringToSpawnIn = String(otherTextDiv.innerHTML) || ""; let sliceIndex = -1; if (stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("b") != -1) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("b");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("X") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("X")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("X");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("@") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("@")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("@");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("¥") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("¥")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("¥");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("#") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("#")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("#");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("h") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("h")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("h");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("p") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("p")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("p");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("d") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("d")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("d");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("g") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("g")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("g");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("J") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("J")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("J");} if ((stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("j") != -1) && ((sliceIndex===-1)||(sliceIndex > stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("j")))) {sliceIndex = stringToSpawnIn.indexOf("j");} if (sliceIndex != -1) { let latterText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(sliceIndex+1) || ""; let formerText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(0,sliceIndex) || ""; let keyText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(sliceIndex,sliceIndex+1) || ""; let newKeyDiv = document.createElement("div"); let newKeyText = document.createTextNode(keyText); otherTextDiv.innerHTML = formerText || ""; switch (keyText) { case "X": case "@": case "¥": case "g": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","flower"); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); break; case "h": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("ondragover","jarDragover(event)"); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("ondrop","jarDropHandler(event)"); case "p": case "d": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","collectibleHolder"); const collectible = document.createElement("div"); collectible.setAttribute("class","collectible"); collectible.appendChild(newKeyText); newKeyDiv.appendChild(collectible); break; case "b": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","beeHolder"); const newBee = document.createElement("div"); newBee.setAttribute("class","bee"); newBee.appendChild(newKeyText); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newBee); break; case "#": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","hive"); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("dragover",(event)=>{jarDragover(event)}); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("ondrop","jarDropHandler(event)"); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); //newKeyDiv.classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); break; case "J": case "j": newKeyDiv.setAttribute("class","jar"); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("draggable",true); newKeyDiv.setAttribute("tabindex","0"); newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); setUpJar(newKeyDiv); break; default: newKeyDiv.appendChild(newKeyText); break; } //newKeyDiv.style =totalStyle; otherTextDiv.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newKeyDiv); const newOtherText = document.createElement("div"); newOtherText.setAttribute("class","otherText"); const newOtherTextText = document.createTextNode(latterText); newOtherText.appendChild(newOtherTextText); newKeyDiv.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newOtherText); innerParse(newOtherText); }//if } var jarIsBeingDragged= false; function setUpJar(newKeyDiv) { newKeyDiv.addEventListener("dragstart",(event)=>{ //event.preventDefault(); jarIsBeingDragged= true; //document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[0].innerHTML = "|"+event.dataTransfer.getData("text")+"|"; //currentlyDragging = true; //event.preventDefault(); }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("drag",(event)=>{ newKeyDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); //currentlyDragging = true; jarIsBeingDragged= true; //event.dataTransfer.clearData(); //event.dataTransfer.setData("text/plain","jar"); }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("dragend",(event)=>{ jarIsBeingDragged=false; //event.preventDefault(); //document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[0].innerHTML = "|"+event.dataTransfer.getData("text/plain")+"|"; newKeyDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); //currentlyDragging = false; if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight").length >0) {jarDropHandlerBase(); } while (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]) { if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.contains("collectible")) { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].parentElement.remove(document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("focus",(event)=>{ setTimeout( ()=>{ if (!(jarIsBeingDragged)) { dx = 0-newKeyDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x + document.getElementById(currentArticle).getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].getBoundingClientRect().x; dy = 0-newKeyDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y + document.getElementById(currentArticle).getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].getBoundingClientRect().y; const transformationContent = [ {transform: "translateX(0px) translateY(0px)"}, {transform: "translateX("+dx+"px) translateY("+dy+"px)" }, ]; const transformationDuration = { duration: 5000, iterations: 1, } let thisMoveAnimation = newKeyDiv.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); thisMoveAnimation.onfinish = () =>{jarDropHandlerBase()}; } },1000 ); }); var touchX; var touchY; var touchXNum; var touchYNum; newKeyDiv.addEventListener("touchstart",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); if (event.cancelable) { event.preventDefault();} jarIsBeingDragged= true; document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").classList.remove("queenBeingDragged");}); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("touchmove",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); if (event.cancelable) { event.preventDefault();} newKeyDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); touchX =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX)+"px"; touchY = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY-40)+"px"; document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").style.left = touchX; document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").style.top = touchY; touchXNum =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX); touchYNum = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY); //this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.innerHTML= "Left"+touchX+ " top" + touchY; let returnValue = ""; let rect = ""; for (let i = 0; i< document.getElementsByClassName("hive").length; i++) { rect = document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].getBoundingClientRect(); //document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].innerHTML = rect.left+" " + rect.top; // document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").innerHTML = touchXNum + " " +touchYNum; if ((Number(touchXNum) > rect.left) && (Number(touchXNum) < Number(rect.left+rect.width+40)) && (Number(touchYNum) > rect.top+window.scrollY) && (Number(touchYNum) < Number(rect.top+rect.height+40+window.scrollY))) { returnValue = document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } for (let i = 0; i< document.getElementsByClassName("collectible").length; i++) { rect = document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].getBoundingClientRect(); //document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].innerHTML = rect.left+" " + rect.top; // document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").innerHTML = touchXNum + " " +touchYNum; if ((document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].innerHTML === "h") && (Number(touchXNum) > rect.left-20) && (Number(touchXNum) < Number(rect.left+rect.width+40)) && (Number(touchYNum) > rect.top+window.scrollY-20) && (Number(touchYNum) < Number(rect.top+rect.height+40+window.scrollY))) { returnValue = document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].id; document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[i].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } }); newKeyDiv.addEventListener("touchend",(event)=>{ jarIsBeingDragged=false; event.stopPropagation(); if (event.cancelable) { event.preventDefault();} document.getElementById("mobileScrollJarDiv").classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); for (let d = 0; d<document.getElementsByClassName("jar").length; d++){ document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[d].classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); } if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight").length >0) {jarDropHandlerBase(); } while (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]) { if (document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.contains("collectible")) { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].parentElement.remove(document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0]); } else { document.getElementsByClassName("jarCollectorHighlight")[0].classList.remove("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } }); } function queenDropHandler(event) { event.preventDefault(); queenDropHandlerBase(document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].id); } function jarDropHandler(event) { if (jarIsBeingDragged) { event.preventDefault(); if (event.currentTarget.classList.contains("collectibleHolder")) { if (event.currentTarget.childNodes[0]) { // event.target.innerHTML += "GGG"; event.currentTarget.removeChild(event.currentTarget.childNodes[0]); } } jarDropHandlerBase(); } else { for (let i = 0; i<document.getElementsByClassName("queen").length; i++) {document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[i].focus();} } } function jarDropHandlerBase() { document.getElementById(currentArticle).appendChild(document.getElementsByClassName("floatingImage")[0]); document.getElementsByClassName("floatingImage")[0].style.display="block"; setTimeout( () => { switch (currentArticle) { case "OutsideOfEverything": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonus").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonus").style.display="block"; break; case "ToasterArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusToaster").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusToaster").style.display="block"; break; case "AllisonArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusAllison").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusAllison").style.display="block"; break; case "LibraryArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusLibrary").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusLibrary").style.display="block"; break; case "VerbosityArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusVerbosity").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusVerbosity").style.display="block"; break; case "FFArticle": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusFF").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusFF").style.display="block"; break; case "page-content": if (document.getElementById("honeyBonusCustom").style.display !=="block") { newMessages =newMessages+1;} document.getElementById("honeyBonusCustom").style.display="block"; break; default: break; } document.getElementsByClassName("floatingImage")[0].style.display="none"; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML= String(newMessages)+ " New Messages!" },4000); } //separated so could work with touch screens too function queenDropHandlerBase(id) { document.getElementById(id).appendChild(document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[0]); linkPreparer(); } function linkPreparer() { const transformationContent2 = [{transform:"translateX(-20px)"},{transform:"translateX(20px) "},{transform:"translateX(-20px)"}]; const transformationTiming2 = {duration:1000,iterations:Infinity}; document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[0].animate(transformationContent2,transformationTiming2); document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.display="inline-block"; fakeLinkHandle(document.getElementById("linkSelect").value); document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.backgroundColor="#ef972182"; document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.borderColor="#c393b8c"; document.getElementById("linkBlock").style.color="#c393b8c"; document.getElementById("fakeLink").style.color="green"; //document.getElementById("fakeLink").innerHTML = "Queen Ready, Select Queen Destination"; document.getElementById("queenCollectorInitialText").style.display="none"; //document.getElementById("fakeLink").setAttribute("ready","true"); queenDropped = true; } function queenDragover(event) { event.preventDefault(); event.dataTransfer.dropEffect="move"; } function jarDragover(event) { //document.getElementsByClassName("jar")[0].innerHTML = "|"+event.dataTransfer.getData("text/plain")+"|"; if (jarIsBeingDragged) { event.preventDefault(); event.dataTransfer.dropEffect="move"; event.target.classList.add("jarCollectorHighlight"); } } var jarActivatedInFirstArticle = false; function fakeLinkClick(event) { event.preventDefault(); if (document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display !== "block") { newMessages++; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML= String(newMessages)+ " New Messages!" } document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display="block"; fl = document.getElementById("linkSelect"); switch (fl.value) { case "Allison": fakeLinkClickBase("AllisonArticle","queenReturnAllison",allisonHandler); break; case "Toaster": fakeLinkClickBase("ToasterArticle","queenReturnToaster",toasterHandler); break; case "Library": fakeLinkClickBase("LibraryArticle","queenReturnLibrary",libraryHandler); break; case "Verbosity": fakeLinkClickBase("VerbosityArticle","queenReturnVerbosity",verbosityHandler); break; case "FF": fakeLinkClickBase("FFArticle","queenReturnFF",ffHandler); break; case "Bee": document.getElementById("queenReturnOriginal").style.display="block"; fakeLinkClickBase("OutsideOfEverything","queenReturnOriginal",testMoveHandler); break; case "Sandbox": document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything").style.display="none"; document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("ToasterArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("AllisonArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("VerbosityArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("FFArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("page-content").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("page-content").style.display="block"; default: break; } } var carryOverBeeObjectList = []; function fakeLinkClickBase(outerDocName, returnName, outerDocHandler) { document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("ToasterArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("AllisonArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("VerbosityArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("FFArticle").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById("page-content").style.display ="none"; document.getElementById(outerDocName).style.display ="block"; currentArticle = outerDocName; document.getElementsByClassName("queen")[0].remove(); let newQueen = new Queen(outerDocHandler,outerDocHandler.getRandomHive(),returnName); newQueen.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel(); newQueen.circleAnimate(document.getElementById(returnName)); document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(newQueen.queenDiv); document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(document.createElement("br")); let beeObjList = document.getElementById("LinkButton").getElementsByClassName("bee"); var newBeeDiv; var newBee; for (let i = 0; i< beeObjList.length; i++) { newBeeDiv = document.createElement("div"); newBeeDiv.setAttribute("class","bee"); newBeeDiv.id= String("carryOverBee"+i); newBeeDiv.innerHTML = "b"; document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(newBeeDiv); newBee = new Bee(String("carryOverBee"+i),outerDocHandler); carryOverBeeObjectList.push(newBee); for (let j = 0; j< beeObjList[i].textContent.length; j++) { if ((beeObjList[i].textContent[j] === "d") || (beeObjList[i].textContent[j] === "p")) {newBee.pollenCount =newBee.pollenCount+1; newBee.pollenNode.innerHTML +=beeObjList[i].textContent[j]; } else if (beeObjList[i].textContent[j] === "h") {newBee.pollenCount =newBee.pollenCount+4; newBee.pollenNode.innerHTML +=beeObjList[i].textContent[j];} } //newBeeDiv.innerHTML += newBee.pollenCount; //document.getElementById(returnName).appendChild(testMoveHandler.beeObjectList[i].beeDiv); //newBee.moveHandler = outerDocHandler; outerDocHandler.beeObjectList.push(newBee); newBee.encirclingAnimate(document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().width,document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*document.getElementById(returnName).getBoundingClientRect().height,Infinity); } outerDocHandler.queen = newQueen; } function articleClickHandlerBase(articleName,returnName,newBaseAttachBeesName,moveHandler) { if (document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display !=="block") { newMessages++; document.getElementById("mailButton").innerHTML= String(newMessages)+ " New Messages!" document.getElementById("newPageMail").style.display="block"; } if (!buttonTriggered) { buttonTriggered = true; queenDropped = false; for (let k = 0; k<moveHandler.queen.queenDiv.getAnimations().length; k++) { moveHandler.queen.queenDiv.getAnimations()[k].cancel(); } document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).appendChild(moveHandler.queen.queenDiv); document.getElementById(returnName).style.display = "none"; document.getElementById(articleName).prepend(document.getElementById("travellingSelectorBox")); document.getElementById("LinkButton").innerHTML = "<div id='queenCollectorInitialText'><br></div>"; moveHandler.queen.moveToAnotherDiv(newBaseAttachBeesName); for (let m = 0; m<document.getElementsByClassName("bee").length; m++) { for (let l = 0; l<document.getElementsByClassName("bee")[m].getAnimations().length; l++) { document.getElementsByClassName("bee")[m].getAnimations()[l].cancel(); } } for (let j = 0; j< moveHandler.beeObjectList.length; j++) { moveHandler.beeObjectList[j].activated = false; moveHandler.beeObjectList[j].currentDiv = document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName); } for (let i = 0; i<document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee").length; i++) { if (document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[i].getAnimations()[0]) { document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[i].getAnimations()[0].cancel();} } while (document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[0]) { document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).appendChild(document.getElementById(returnName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[0]); } for (let p = 0; p< document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).getElementsByClassName("bee").length; p++){ document.getElementById(newBaseAttachBeesName).getElementsByClassName("bee")[p].click(); } } } function fakeLinkHandle(value) { let fl = document.getElementById("fakeLink"); switch (value) { case "Allison": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock256/Allison-Eckhart"; fl.innerHTML = "Allison Eckhart (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Toaster": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock42/scp-426"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-426 (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Verbosity": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock643/scp-6430"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-6430 (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "FF": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock810/scp-8102"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-8102 (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Library": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/CellBlock260_a_former_book_loving_town/scp-2602_which_used_to_be_a_library"; fl.innerHTML = "SCP-2602, which used to be a library (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; case "Sandbox": fl.href ="//B:/Documents/APRE/APIs/ARChive.db/Sandbox-3/collab:your-sandbox"; fl.innerHTML = "Sandbox (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; default: fl.innerHTML = "Link ready, select destination (click or hit enter while focused)"; break; } } function moveToAnotherDiv(divToMove,currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDiv) { var thisMoveAnimation; let beeDivX = divToMove.getBoundingClientRect().x; let beeDivY = divToMove.getBoundingClientRect().y; let otherDivX = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let otherDivY = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let currentX = currentDivX; let currentY = currentDivY; let beeBeginCurrentX = currentX-beeDivX; let beeBeginCurrentY = currentY-beeDivY; let dx = otherDivX - currentX || 1; let dy = otherDivY - currentY; let beeFinishX = otherDivX - beeDivX; let beeFinishY = otherDivY - beeDivY; let timeOfTrip = Math.floor(Math.sqrt(dx*dx+dy*dy))*10; const transformationContent = [ {transform: "translateX("+beeBeginCurrentX+"px) translateY("+ beeBeginCurrentY+"px)"}, //{transform: "translateX("+beeFinishX+"px) translateY("+beeFinishY+"px)"}, ]; for (let i = 0; i< timeOfTrip; i=i+10) { let theta = Math.sign(dx)*Math.atan(dy/dx) || Math.sign(dy)*Math.atan(dy/dx); // rotation matrix: X = x*cos(theta)-y*sin(theta) and Y = x*sin(theta)+y*cos(theta) // but the function we want to rotate is a sine wave //so the x should be always the same increment, i. let sineFunction = 10*Math.sin(i/60); let rotatedX = Math.sign(dx)*Math.floor(i/10*Math.cos(theta)-sineFunction*Math.sin(theta)) || Math.sign(dy)*Math.floor(i/10*Math.cos(theta)-sineFunction*Math.sin(theta)); let rotatedY = Math.floor(i/10*Math.sin(theta)+sineFunction*Math.cos(theta)); transformationContent.push( {transform: "translateX("+Number(beeBeginCurrentX+rotatedX)+"px) translateY("+Number(beeBeginCurrentY+rotatedY)+"px)"}); } const transformationDuration = { duration: timeOfTrip, iterations: 1, } thisMoveAnimation = divToMove.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); //if (currentDivX === 0) //{thisMoveAnimation.cancel();} return thisMoveAnimation; } function parseStringToSeeIfAllRequiredCharactersAreInIt(st) { //first, get rid of everything between <> let retVal = ""; while (st.indexOf("<") !== -1 && st.indexOf(">") !== -1) { st = st.slice(0,st.indexOf("<"))+st.slice(st.indexOf(">")+1); } if (st.indexOf("b")===-1) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one 'b'!";} if (st.indexOf("#")===-1) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one '#'!";} if ((st.indexOf("p")===-1)&&(st.indexOf("d")===-1)) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one 'p' or 'd'!";} if ((st.indexOf("g")===-1) && (st.indexOf("X")===-1) && (st.indexOf("¥")===-1) && (st.indexOf("@")===-1)) {retVal = retVal+"<br>This needs at least one of the following: 'X', '¥','@', or 'g'!";} return retVal; } function saveButton() { document.getElementById("page-content").style.display="block"; if((parseStringToSeeIfAllRequiredCharactersAreInIt(textToSubmit) === "")) {document.getElementById('finalOutput').innerHTML=sanitizeHTMLInput(textToSubmit); document.getElementById('form').style.display='none'; parse(document.getElementById('finalOutput')); customHandler = new MoveHandler('finalOutput',"finalQueenReturn",['BBBB','CCCC','DDDD']); document.getElementById("SandboxBase").innerHTML = ""; document.getElementById("queenReturnSandbox").style.display ="block"; document.getElementById("finalOutput").style.display ="block"; document.getElementById("SandboxBase").style.display ="block"; fakeLinkClickBase("finalOuterHousing","queenReturnSandbox",customHandler); document.getElementById("page-content").style.display="block"; } } function resetSandbox() { document.getElementById("form").style.display="block"; buttonTriggered = false; document.getElementById("SandboxBase").innerHTML = ""; for (let j = 0; j< customHandler.beeObjectList.length; j++) { customHandler.beeObjectList[j].activated = false; customHandler.beeObjectList[j].currentDiv = document.getElementById("SandboxBase"); while(customHandler.beeObjectList[j].beeDiv.getAnimations()[0]) { customHandler.beeObjectList[j].beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel(); } } } /*Make sure the user can't inject code into the page*/ function sanitizeHTMLInput(inStr) { let inputString = inStr; let blacklist = ["script","link","object","embed","iframe","onclick","textarea","contenteditable","href", "oncopy","onpaste","oncut","ondblclick","onfocus","onfocusin","onfocusout","oninput","onkeydown","onkeyup","onkeypress", "onmousedown","onmouseenter","onmouseleave","onmousemove","onmouseout","onmouseover","onmouseup","onmousewheel", "onpointercancel","onpointerdown","onpointerenter","onpointerleave","onpointermove","onpointerout","onpointerover","onpointerrawupdate","onpointerup", "onscroll","onscrollend","onsecuritypolicyviolation","ontouchcancel","ontouchend","ontouchmove","ontouchstart", "ontransitioncancel","ontransitionend","ontransitionrun","ontransitionstart", "onwebkitmouseforcechanged","onwebkitmouseforcedown","onwebkitmouseforceup","onwebkitmouseforcewillbegin","onwheel", "ongesturechange","ongestureend","ongesturestart", "ongotpointercapture","onfullscreenerror","onfullscreenchange", "onDOMMouseScroll","onDOMActivate", "oncontextmenu","oncontentvisibilityautostatechange","oncompositionupdate","oncompositionstart","oncompositionend", "onblur","onbeforexrselect","onbeforescriptexecute","onbeforematch","onbeforeinput", "onauxclick","onanimationstart","onanimationend","onanimationiteration","onanimationcancel", "onafterscriptexecute","onlostpointercapture","onMozMousePixelScroll",]; let indexOfBad = -1; for (let i = 0; i<blacklist.length; i++) { indexOfBad = inputString.indexOf(blacklist[i]); while (indexOfBad != -1) { inputString = inputString.slice(0,indexOfBad) +"EXCISED FORBIDDEN STRING"+inputString.slice(indexOfBad+blacklist[i].length); indexOfBad = inputString.indexOf(blacklist[i]); } } return inputString; } class MoveHandler { constructor(outerDocToSelectFrom, queenHolderNameId,cuteList) { this.queen = null; this.queenHolderNameId=queenHolderNameId; this.outerDoc = document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom); this.flowerObjectList = []; for (let i = 0; i< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("flower").length; i++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("flower")[i].setAttribute("id","flowerNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.flowerObjectList.push(new Flower(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("flower")[i],this)); } this.beeObjectList = []; for (let i = 0; i< document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("bee").length; i++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("bee")[i].setAttribute("id","beeNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.beeObjectList.push(new Bee("beeNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom,this)); } this.beeHolderObjectList = []; for (let i = 0; i< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder").length; i++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder")[i].setAttribute("id","beeHolderNo"+i+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.beeHolderObjectList.push(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder")[i]); } this.initialBeeLength = this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("beeHolder").length; this.hiveObjectList = []; //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].id; for (let z = 0; z< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("hive").length; z++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("hive")[z].setAttribute("id","hiveNo"+z+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.hiveObjectList.push(new Hive("hiveNo"+z+outerDocToSelectFrom,this,this.outerDoc.getAttribute('initialHoneyCount') )); //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; } this.otherTextList = []; //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].id; this.getRandomOtherText(); this.collectibleList = []; for (let x = 0; x< document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("collectible").length; x++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[x].setAttribute("id","collectibleNo"+x+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.collectibleList.push(new Collectible(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[x],this)); //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; } this.collectibleHolderObjectList = []; for (let q = 0; q< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectibleHolder").length; q++) { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectibleHolder")[q].setAttribute("id","collectibleHolderNo"+q+outerDocToSelectFrom); this.collectibleHolderObjectList.push(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectibleHolder")[q]); } this.cuteList = cuteList; this.hoverText = document.createElement("div"); this.hoverTextText = document.createTextNode(cuteList[0]); this.hoverText.style.backgroundColor="yellow"; this.hoverText.style.fontSize = "small"; this.hoverText.appendChild(this.hoverTextText); this.hoverText.style.position="absolute"; this.hoverText.style.display = "none"; this.outerDoc.appendChild(this.hoverText); } showHoverText(beeDiv) { this.hoverText.style.display="block"; this.hoverText.style.left= Math.floor(window.scrollX+ beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().left+30)+"px"; this.hoverText.style.top= Math.floor(window.scrollY+beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().top-20)+"px"; if (beeDiv.getAnimations()[0]) { beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].pause(); } let index = Math.floor(Math.random()*this.cuteList.length); this.hoverText.innerHTML = this.cuteList[index]; window.setTimeout(()=>{this.hoverText.style.display = "none"; if (beeDiv.getAnimations()[0]) {beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].play();} else { {beeDiv.click();} } },1000); } rebuildOtherTextList() { this.otherTextList = []; //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementsByClassName("hive")[0].id; for (let i = 0; i< this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText").length; i++) { if (this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText")[i].innerHTML ==="") { this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText")[i].remove(); i=0; } else {this.otherTextList.push(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("otherText")[i]);} //document.getElementById("readout").innerHTML+=document.getElementById(outerDocToSelectFrom).getElementsByClassName("hive")[i].id; } } // outerDocToSelectFrom: right now this is "OutsideOfEverything", but we will change it when we switch to other scp documents getRandomFlower() { let length = this.flowerObjectList.length; let randomFlower = this.flowerObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)]; for (let i = 0; i<200; i++) { if ((randomFlower.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y < 0) || (randomFlower.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y > 400)) {randomFlower = this.flowerObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)];} else {break;} } return randomFlower; } // outerDocToSelectFrom: right now this is "OutsideOfEverything", but we will change it when we switch to other scp documents getRandomBee() { let length = this.beeObjectList.length; let randomBee = this.beeObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)]; return randomBee; } // outerDocToSelectFrom: right now this is "OutsideOfEverything", but we will change it when we switch to other scp documents getRandomHive() { let length = this.hiveObjectList.length; let randomHive = this.hiveObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)]; return randomHive; } getRandomCollectible() { var randomCollectible; if (!(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible").length === 0)) { randomCollectible = this.getCollectibleById(this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible")[Math.floor(Math.random()*this.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("collectible").length)].id); } else { {randomCollectible = this.getRandomFlower();} } return randomCollectible; } getRandomCollectibleHolder() { var randomCollectible; let length = this.collectibleHolderObjectList.length; randomCollectible = this.collectibleHolderObjectList[Math.floor(length*Math.random())]; for (let i = 0; i<200; i++) { if ((randomCollectible.getBoundingClientRect().y < Number(0-10*i)) || (randomCollectible.getBoundingClientRect().y > Number(400+10*i))) {randomCollectible = this.collectibleHolderObjectList[ Math.floor(Math.random()*length)];} else {break;} } return randomCollectible; } getHiveById(hiveId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.hiveObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.hiveObjectList[i].getHiveId() === hiveId) {retVal = this.hiveObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getFlowerById(flowerId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.flowerObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.flowerObjectList[i].getFlowerId() === flowerId) {retVal = this.flowerObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getCollectibleHolderById(collectibleId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.collectibleHolderObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.collectibleHolderObjectList[i].id === collectibleId) {retVal = this.collectibleHolderObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getCollectibleById(collectibleId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.collectibleList.length; i++) { if (this.collectibleList[i].id === collectibleId) {retVal = this.collectibleList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getBeeById(collectibleId) { let retVal = null; for (let i = 0; i<this.beeObjectList.length; i++) { if (this.beeObjectList[i].beeDiv.id === collectibleId) {retVal = this.beeObjectList[i]; break;} } return retVal; } getRandomOtherText() { this.rebuildOtherTextList(); let randomOtherText = this.otherTextList[Math.floor(Math.random()*this.otherTextList.length)]; if (!(randomOtherText)) { randomOtherText = document.createElement("div"); randomOtherText.setAttribute("class","otherText"); let randomTextNode = document.createTextNode(" "); this.outerDoc.append(randomOtherText); randomOtherText.append(randomTextNode); this.otherTextList.push(randomOtherText); } return randomOtherText; } } class Bee { constructor(beeDivId, moveHandler) { this.id = beeDivId; this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.activated = false; this.beeDiv = document.getElementById(this.id); this.beeDiv.setAttribute("tabindex","0"); this.beeDiv.onfocus=()=>{this.beeDiv.click(); this.moveHandler.showHoverText(this.beeDiv);}; this.pollenCount = 0; this.honeyCount = 0; this.beeDiv.onclick = (event)=>{event.stopPropagation(); this.selectNextAction(this.beeDiv.parentNode.id,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().x,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().y); activeBees++; } //this.beeDiv.innerHTML = this.beeDiv.parentNode.id+" "+this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().x+" "+this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().y;} this.pollenNode = document.createTextNode(""); this.pollenHolderNode = document.createElement("div"); this.pollenHolderNode.appendChild(this.pollenNode); this.pollenHolderNode.style.fontSize="x-small"; this.pollenHolderNode.setAttribute("position","absolute"); this.currentDiv = this.beeDiv.parentNode; this.beeDiv.appendChild(this.pollenHolderNode); } moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDivId) { let otherDiv = document.getElementById(otherDivId); let thisMoveAnimation = moveToAnotherDiv(this.beeDiv,currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDiv); if (thisMoveAnimation) { thisMoveAnimation.onfinish= () =>{ let otherDivX = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let otherDivY = otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; this.activated = false; this.selectNextAction(otherDivId,otherDivX,otherDivY); thisMoveAnimation.cancel(); }; } } encirclingAnimate(centerX,centerY,cycles) { let a = Math.floor(50+Math.random()*40); let k = Math.floor(1+ Math.random()*10); let xCoord = 0; let yCoord = 0; const frames = []; for (let theta = 0; theta < 2*Math.PI; theta = theta+0.01) { xCoord = a * Math.cos(k*theta)*Math.cos(theta)+centerX-this.beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; yCoord = a* Math.cos(k*theta)*Math.sin(theta)+centerY-this.beeDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; frames.push({transform:"translateX("+Math.floor(xCoord)+"px) translateY("+Math.floor(yCoord)+"px)"}); } const durationInformation = {duration: 8000, iterations: cycles,} return this.beeDiv.animate(frames,durationInformation); } selectNextAction(currentDivId,currentDivXin,currentDivYin) { let currentDivX = currentDivXin || document.getElementById(currentDivId).getBoundingClientRect().x; let currentDivY = currentDivYin || document.getElementById(currentDivId).getBoundingClientRect().y; let currentDiv = document.getElementById(currentDivId); if (currentDiv) {this.currentDiv = currentDiv;} if (activeBees > activeBeeLimit) {activeBees--;} else if (!this.activated) { this.activated=true; if (queenDropped) { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].id); this.beeDiv.getAnimations()[0].onfinish=()=>{document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].appendChild(this.beeDiv);this.encirclingAnimate(document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().width,document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[0].getBoundingClientRect().height,Infinity);}; } else { switch (this.currentDiv.className) { case 'collectibleHolder': if (currentDiv.children[0]) { if (currentDiv.children[0].innerHTML === "h") {this.honeyCount +=1; this.pollenNode.nodeValue += "h"; this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); } else { this.pollenCount +=1; this.pollenNode.nodeValue += currentDiv.children[0].innerHTML; let chanceOfGoingToTheHive = Math.floor(Math.random()*4) if (chanceOfGoingToTheHive < this.pollenCount) { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); } else { let randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; if (randomId === currentDivId) { randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; } this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,randomId); } } if (currentDiv.children[0].getAttribute("class")==="collectible") { currentDiv.removeChild(currentDiv.children[0]); currentDiv.innerHTML = " "; } else { //currentDiv.innerHTML = "AAAA"+currentDiv.children[0].getAttribute("class")+"BBBB"; } }else { let randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; if (randomId === currentDivId) { randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; } this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,randomId); } break; case 'flower': this.pollenCount += 1; if (Math.random() > 0.5) { this.pollenNode.nodeValue += "p"; } else { this.pollenNode.nodeValue += "d"; } var delay = 0; if ((this.pollenCount > 1) && (Math.random()>0.5) && (countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers <7)) { countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers++; let thisFlower = this.moveHandler.getFlowerById(currentDiv.getAttribute("id")); thisFlower.spawnOtherFlower(); this.moveHandler.showHoverText(currentDiv); } let chanceOfGoingToTheHive = Math.floor(Math.random()*4) if (chanceOfGoingToTheHive < this.pollenCount) { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); } else { let randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; if (randomId === currentDivId) { randomId = this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id; } this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y,randomId); } break; case 'hive': let thisHive = this.moveHandler.getHiveById(currentDivId); if (thisHive) { if (this.pollenCount >0 || this.honeyCount >0) { this.pollenNode.nodeValue = ""; let thisHive = this.moveHandler.getHiveById(currentDivId); thisHive.addPollen(this.pollenCount+4*this.honeyCount); this.pollenCount =0; this.honeyCount = 0; } let nextMoveObject = this.moveHandler.getRandomCollectibleHolder(); this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY, nextMoveObject.getAttribute("id")); }else { this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomHive().id); //this.beeDiv.innerHTML = currentDivId; } break; default: this.moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivX,currentDivY,this.moveHandler.getRandomFlower().id); //this.beeDiv.innerHTML = String(currentDivX); break; } } } } deactivate() { this.activated=false; } activate() { this.activated=true; this.selectNextAction(this.beeDiv.parentNode.id,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().x,this.beeDiv.parentNode.getBoundingClientRect().y); } } class Flower { constructor(flowerDiv, moveHandler) { this.id = flowerDiv.getAttribute("id"); this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.flowerDiv = flowerDiv; this.pollinated = false; this.flowerType =this.flowerDiv.textContent || "X"; } spawnOtherFlower() { //first find a spot to spawn in let textToSpawnIn = this.moveHandler.getRandomOtherText(); while (textToSpawnIn.innerHTML.length === 0) {textToSpawnIn = this.moveHandler.getRandomOtherText();} let stringToSpawnIn = String(textToSpawnIn.innerHTML); let sliceIndex = Math.floor(Math.random()*stringToSpawnIn.length) || 1; let latterText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(sliceIndex); let formerText = stringToSpawnIn.slice(0,sliceIndex-1); textToSpawnIn.innerHTML = formerText; const newFlowerText = document.createTextNode(this.flowerType); const newFlowerDiv = document.createElement("div"); newFlowerDiv.setAttribute("id","flowerNo"+ Number(this.moveHandler.flowerObjectList.length+2)+this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getAttribute("id")); newFlowerDiv.setAttribute("class","flower"); newFlowerDiv.appendChild(newFlowerText); textToSpawnIn.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newFlowerDiv); const newOtherText = document.createElement("div"); newOtherText.setAttribute("class","otherText"); const newOtherTextText = document.createTextNode(latterText); newOtherText.appendChild(newOtherTextText); newFlowerDiv.insertAdjacentElement("afterend",newOtherText); this.moveHandler.rebuildOtherTextList(); let otherDiv = newFlowerDiv; let otherDivX = window.scrollX + otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let otherDivY = window.scrollY + otherDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let currentX = window.scrollX + this.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let currentY = window.scrollY + this.flowerDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let dx = currentX-otherDivX; let dy = currentY-otherDivY; let timeOfTrip = Math.floor(Math.sqrt(dx*dx+dy*dy))*50; const transformationContent = [ {transform: "translateX("+dx+"px) translateY("+dy+"px) scale(0.25)" }, {transform: "translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(0.25)"}, {transform: "translateX(0px) translateY(0px) scale(1)"}, ]; const transformationDuration = { duration: timeOfTrip, iterations: 1, } let thisMoveAnimation = newFlowerDiv.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); //only create the new flower when it settles thisMoveAnimation.onfinish= ()=>{ countOfCurrentlyMovingFlowers--; this.moveHandler.flowerObjectList.push(new Flower(newFlowerDiv,this.moveHandler)); thisMoveAnimation.cancel(); } return timeOfTrip; } getFlowerId() { return this.id; } } class Hive { constructor(hiveDivId, moveHandler,initialHoneyCount) { this.id = hiveDivId; this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.hiveDiv = document.getElementById(this.id); this.pollenCount = 0; this.honeyCount = initialHoneyCount; this.honeyCountSpanId = this.id+"honeyCount"; this.hiveDiv.innerHTML="#: <span id=\""+this.honeyCountSpanId+"\">" + this.honeyCount+" </span></br>"; this.honeyCountSpan = document.getElementById(this.honeyCountSpanId); //this.produceQueen(); this.displayHoneyCount(); } getHoneyCount() { return this.honeyCount; } getPollenCount() { return this.pollenCount; } convertPollenToHoney() { let newHoney = Math.floor(this.pollenCount / 4); let remainingPollen = this.pollenCount % 4; this.honeyCount =parseInt(this.honeyCount)+parseInt(newHoney); this.pollenCount = remainingPollen; if (this.honeyCount === 8336) { this.produceQueen(); this.removeHoney(8336); } this.displayHoneyCount(); } displayHoneyCount() { this.honeyCountSpan.innerHTML = this.honeyCount+ "|" + this.pollenCount; } addPollen(newPollen) { this.pollenCount += newPollen; this.convertPollenToHoney(); } //returns honey number actually removed removeHoney(honeyToRemove) { let retVal = 0; if ((this.honeyCount - honeyToRemove) <=0) {retVal = this.honeyCount; this.honeyCount = 0;} else { retVal = honeyToRemove; this.honeyCount -= honeyToRemove; } this.displayHoneyCount(); return retVal; } getHiveId() { return this.id; } produceQueen() { this.queen = new Queen(this.moveHandler,this,this.moveHandler.queenHolderNameId); } } class Queen { constructor(moveHandler, hive, queenButtonId) { this.moveHandler = moveHandler; this.hive = hive; this.hiveDiv = document.getElementById(hive.getHiveId()); this.queenDiv = document.createElement("div"); this.queenDiv.className = "queen"; this.queenDiv.setAttribute("draggable",true); this.beeNumber = 0; this.queenDiv.setAttribute("tabindex","0"); this.queenText = document.createTextNode("q"); this.queenDiv.appendChild(this.queenText); document.getElementById(queenButtonId).appendChild(this.queenDiv); this.mobileScrollQueenText= document.createTextNode("q"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv = document.createElement("div"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.appendChild(this.mobileScrollQueenText); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.className = "queen"; this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.style.position="fixed"; this.moveHandler.outerDoc.appendChild(this.mobileScrollQueenDiv); const transformationContent2 = [{transform:"translateX(-20px)"},{transform:"translateX(20px) "},{transform:"translateX(-20px) "}]; const transformationTiming2 = {duration:1000,iterations:Infinity}; this.thisMoveAnimation = this.circleAnimate(this.hiveDiv); this.queenDiv.onfocus = (event) => { setTimeout( ()=>{ if ((testMoveHandler.outerDoc.style.display !== "none")){ if (!(currentlyDragging)) { queenDropped = true; if (this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0]) { this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel();} moveToAnotherDiv(this.queenDiv,this.hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x,this.hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y,document.getElementById("LinkButton")).onfinish =()=>{ linkPreparer();}; } } } ,1000); }; this.queenDiv.addEventListener("dragstart",()=>{this.thisMoveAnimation.pause(); currentlyDragging = true;}); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("drag",()=>{this.queenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged");}); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("dragend",()=>{ setTimeout( ()=>{ currentlyDragging = false; if (queenDropped) {this.thisMoveAnimation.cancel();} else { this.thisMoveAnimation.cancel(); moveToAnotherDiv(this.queenDiv,this.moveHandler.hiveObjectList[0].hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect(0).x,this.moveHandler.hiveObjectList[0].hiveDiv.getBoundingClientRect(0).y,document.getElementById("LinkButton")); } this.queenDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); linkPreparer(); },50); }); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("touchstart",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); event.preventDefault(); this.thisMoveAnimation.pause(); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged");}); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("touchmove",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); event.preventDefault(); this.queenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); let touchX =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX)+"px"; let touchY = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY-40)+"px"; this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.style.left = touchX; this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.style.top = touchY; let touchXNum =Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageX); let touchYNum = Math.floor(event.targetTouches[0].pageY); //this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.innerHTML= "Left"+touchX+ " top" + touchY; let returnValue = ""; let rect = ""; for (let i = 0; i< this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector").length; i++) { rect = this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].getBoundingClientRect(); if ((Number(touchXNum) > rect.left) && (Number(touchXNum) < Number(rect.left+rect.width+40)) && (Number(touchYNum) > rect.top) && (Number(touchYNum) < Number(rect.top+rect.height+40))) { returnValue = this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].id; this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].classList.add("queenCollectorHighlight"); } else { this.moveHandler.outerDoc.getElementsByClassName("queenCollector")[i].classList.remove("queenCollectorHighlight"); } } }); this.queenDiv.addEventListener("touchend",(event)=>{ event.stopPropagation(); event.preventDefault(); this.thisMoveAnimation.play(); this.queenDiv.classList.remove("queenBeingDragged"); this.mobileScrollQueenDiv.classList.add("queenBeingDragged"); queenDropHandlerBase(document.getElementsByClassName("queenCollectorHighlight")[0].id); }); this.toggle = true; this.beeNumber = 0; } circleAnimate(placeToAnimateAround) { const transformationContent = [{transform: "translateX("+Number(placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().width-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x)+"px) translateY("+Number(placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().height-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y)+"px)"}]; let radiusMagnitude = 40; let radius = radiusMagnitude; let xCoord = 0; let yCoord = 0; for (let theta = 0; theta<Number(2*Math.PI); theta=theta+0.01) { radius = Math.floor(radiusMagnitude+10*Math.sin(10*theta)); xCoord = Math.floor(radius*Math.cos(theta)); yCoord = Math.floor(radius*Math.sin(theta)); transformationContent.push({transform: "translateX("+Number(xCoord+placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().x+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().width-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x)+"px) translateY("+Number(placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().y+0.5*placeToAnimateAround.getBoundingClientRect().height-this.queenDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y+yCoord)+"px)"}); } const transformationDuration = { duration: 5000, iterations: Infinity, } return this.queenDiv.animate(transformationContent,transformationDuration); } moveToAnotherDiv(currentDivId) { while (this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0]) {this.queenDiv.getAnimations()[0].cancel();} let currentDiv = document.getElementById(currentDivId);//document.getElementById(currentDivId); var beeToMeet; if (this.beeNumber < this.moveHandler.beeHolderObjectList.length) { beeToMeet = this.moveHandler.beeHolderObjectList[this.beeNumber]; } else { beeToMeet = document.getElementById("LinkButton"); } this.beeNumber++; let otherDiv = beeToMeet;//.beeDiv; let otherDivId = otherDiv.getAttribute("id"); let currentDivX = currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().x; let currentDivY = currentDiv.getBoundingClientRect().y; let thisMoveAnimation = moveToAnotherDiv(this.queenDiv,currentDivX,currentDivY,otherDiv); thisMoveAnimation.onfinish= () =>{ if ( otherDiv.children[0]) { otherDiv.children[0].click();} if (otherDiv.getAttribute("class") === "beeHolder") { this.moveToAnotherDiv(otherDivId); //this.moveHandler.outerDoc.prepend(otherDiv); } else { document.getElementById("LinkButton").appendChild(this.queenDiv); linkPreparer(); buttonTriggered=false; queenDropped = true; this.circleAnimate(); } }; } } class Collectible { constructor(collectibleDiv,moveHandler) { this.collectibleDiv = collectibleDiv; this.collectibleType = collectibleDiv.innerHTML || "p"; this.id = this.collectibleDiv.getAttribute("id"); this.moveHandler = moveHandler; } destroy() { this.collectibleDiv.parentElement.removeChild(this.collectibleDiv); this.moveHandler.collectibleList.splice(this.moveHandler.collectibleList.indexOf(this),1); } } const pageSelector = document.getElementById("linkSelect"); pageSelector.onchange = ()=>{fakeLinkHandle(pageSelector.value);}; document.getElementById("fakeLink").addEventListener("keydown",(event)=>{if (event.key==="Enter") {fakeLinkClick(event);}}); parse(document.getElementById("OutsideOfEverything")); parse(document.getElementById("ToasterArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("AllisonArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("LibraryArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("VerbosityArticle")); parse(document.getElementById("FFArticle")); function addQueenSkip() {testMoveHandler.getRandomHive().produceQueen();} testMoveHandler = new MoveHandler("OutsideOfEverything","LinkButton", ["what's a nomalous?","buzz off",":(",":)",":3"]); toasterHandler = new MoveHandler("ToasterArticle","queenReturnToaster",["nice and toasty","buzz-zap","i'm electro-cute!","wait, why do i have a concept of individuality?","is the being thinking right now not just a cell in a universal us?",":0"]); allisonHandler = new MoveHandler("AllisonArticle","queenReturnAllison",["no fair, you can't steal our honeycount!","stop hogging the page, allison","autosynecdochic is fun to spell"]); libraryHandler = new MoveHandler("LibraryArticle","queenReturnLibrary", ["ssh! paper wasps","exbibliothetic is fun to spell","we speak comfort to soothe the barren fields","what happened to you stinks","let us dwell in you again"]); verbosityHandler = new MoveHandler("VerbosityArticle","queenReturnVerbosity", [":O",">:|",":(",":3"]); ffHandler = new MoveHandler("FFArticle","queenReturnFF", ["yay","don't blame us","it was like this before we got here",":)",":3"]); </script> </body> </html> ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8335" by J_V_G, Alzin Cdag, IndustryStandard, esriel, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8335. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: SCP-8102 Author: Monkeysky License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8102 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted with author's permission. Name: SCP-6430 Author: S D Locke License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6430 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted with author's permission. Name: SCP-426 Authors: Flah License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-426 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted. Name: SCP-2565 Author: Taffeta License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2565 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted. Name: SCP-2602 Author: Communism will win License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2602 Additional Notes: Entire article excerpted. Name: SCP-3309 Authors: Lt Flops,PhamtomGuy License: CC-BY-SA Source Link: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3309 Additional Notes: Stylistic elements used to replicate the wikidot posting interface used and modified. Name: The Bee-Boy's Song Authors: Rudyard Kipling License: Public Domain Source Link: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Bee-Boy%27s_Song Additional Notes: From a 1906 book, Puck of Pook's Hill. Entire poem excerpted, with dollar signs added in place of some s's Name: Bee Sculpture Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/Bee%20Sculpture.jpg Additional Notes: A sculpture of a bee made entirely of food Name: Lone Toast Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/LoneToast.jpg Additional Notes: A single slice of bread with honey drizzled on it in the shape of a lowercase h Name: Two Toast Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/TwoToast.jpg Additional Notes: A single slice of raw bread and one toasted slice on a plate with honey drizzled on them in the shapes of lowercase letters h Name: toaster Bagel Author: Alzin Cdag License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/toasterBagel.jpg Additional Notes: A single bagel, covered in white creamy cheese with honey drizzled on it in the shape of a lowercase h Name: esriel-color-print.gif Author: Esreil License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/esriel-color-print.gif Additional Notes: A gif showing a printer printing out a paper with a yellow lowercase h on it Name: weirdToast Author: IndustryStandard License: CC-BY_SA 3.0 Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8335/weirdToast.jpg Additional Notes: adapted from Wikimedia files of toast and honey also in this license box Name: Toast.jpg Author: Nachoman-au License: CC-BY_SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Toast.jpg Additional Notes: adapted into weirdToast Name: Honey_colloidal_liquid.jpg Author: [Nandhinikandhasamy] License: CC-BY_SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Honey_colloidal_liquid.jpg Additional Notes: adapted into weirdToast |
SCP-8338 | neutralized | SCP-8338 — I'm president of the United States. And I'm not gonna eat any more broccoli! ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8338 Level4 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: danger link to memo The White House. SCP-8338-1. Special Containment Procedures: Following the death of SCP-8338-1, SCP-8338 has been reclassified as Neutralized. No further protocols for its containment are considered necessary apart from standard documentation archival and pre-existing obfuscation efforts by the greater Foundation. Description: SCP-8338 was a hypothetical HWK-Class “Cruciferous Collapse” Scenario exclusively targeting all species of broccoli (Brassica oleracea var. italica). Should SCP-8338 have come to pass, all species of broccoli would have been instantaneously annihilated from consensus reality, likely due to the swift ejection of their concepts from the Nöosphere. Per the nature of such an event, broccoli would have been eliminated from human knowledge, though trace remnants of its existence would still remain and be visible to the public at large, constituting a widespread breach of normalcy. The threat posed by SCP-8338 was created by the former reality-bending entity SCP-8338-1 as an unintentional use of its abilities; the creation of SCP-8338 resulted in the expense of its power and subsequently reduced SCP-8338-1 to a baseline human. It is believed that SCP-8338-1’s noted hatred of broccoli resulted in SCP-8338 through an unintentional thaumic rite, such as a grandiose verbal statement advocating for the termination of all broccoli (e. g., “All broccoli should be destroyed!”). SCP-8338-1 was George H. W. Bush, who notably held office as the 41st President of the United States from 1989 to 1993 and possessed significant disdain for broccoli. Addendum 8338.1: Discovery SCP-8338 was first discovered in 1992, in the second half of SCP-8338-1's only presidential term. During routine inspection of food agricultural trends, an anomaly in both cultivation and consumption of broccoli was discovered. Both were found to be unusually waning, though with some short, unexplained rises spread throughout. During attempts to cross-reference this data with any possible broccoli-related anomalies already known to the Foundation, SCP-8338-1 first came to be of interest. Due to his at-the-time position of United States President, SCP-8338-1 was already being monitored by the Foundation for unrelated anomalous activity. Through comparison of surveillance footage with previously-compiled SCP-8338 data, various findings were made by the Department of Analytics: It has been determined that every instance there has been a seemingly-unprecedented increase in the prevalence of broccoli, it has been during times SCP-8338-1 has visibly consumed it, usually at the behest of a family member. This briefly stabilizes the SCP-8338 phenomenon, staving it off for a short while before the existence of broccoli begins to wane once more. In a short summarization of our remaining data: SCP-8338-1 eating broccoli is intertwined with the status of broccoli worldwide; SCP-8338-1 must consume broccoli once a month to prevent the worldwide effects on broccoli from reaching normalcy-breaching levels; If SCP-8338-1 does not consume broccoli at least once in three months, SCP-8338 will occur and entirely erase broccoli from consensus reality. Following the publishing of this data, the natures of SCP-8338, SCP-8338-1, and their relationship were entirely determined, prompting further action. Addendum 8338.2: Meeting Transcript Dr. Francis Own, assigned head of SCP-8338 research, was conscripted to travel to the White House for a meeting with SCP-8338-1 and Director Samuel Braun of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Unusual Incidents Unit. Per his position as U. S. President, SCP-8338-1 had already been briefed on the existence of both the Foundation and the Veil upon the beginning of his term. «Begin Log» Dr. Own: Mr. President, it's a pleasure to meet you. [Dr. Own outstretches his hand for SCP-8338-1 to shake. SCP-8338-1 gives him a look with a confused expression, but hesitantly reciprocates the gesture.] SCP-8338-1: Yes, yes, but what's this I hear about you needing me to eat broccoli? Dr. Own: Well, sir, as you have seen from the briefing packet our organization sent y— SCP-8338-1: I didn't read it. Dr. Own: Pardon? SCP-8338-1: I'm not eating broccoli. Dr. Own: What? SCP-8338-1: Barbara sometimes can get me to eat it when I'm in a really good mood, but Samuel here tells me you need me to eat it at least once a day to prevent some sort of… shortage of it? Dr. Own: That is correct, sir, but— SCP-8338-1: Oh, please! Why should I care about a god damn broccoli shortage? I'm president of the United States. And I'm not gonna eat any more broccoli! Dir. Braun: Mr. President, that's what I've been trying to tell you, it won't just be a shortage. It will be a widespread elimination of all broccoli across the planet! SCP-8338-1: Why should I care? [Dir. Braun places his right hand on his face and exhales sharply through his nose.] Dr. Own: Sir, it won't just be a slow loss of broccoli. It will be a sudden event, a complete loss of human knowledge of broccoli. No one will even be able to comprehend that it ever existed! SCP-8338-1: Good! In fact, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure this so-called "shortage" happens! Dir. Braun: We just said it wasn't a… Dr. Own: Mr. President, with all due respect, you know the organization I represent won't let that happen. SCP-8338-1: I'm the President of the United States! I let your little Foundation operate in our territory and we fund you. You're going to listen to what I say and you're going to listen well. Read my lips: no more broccoli. And you can't stop me! Dir. Braun: I told you before this meeting he wasn't going to listen, kid. Dr. Own: "Kid"? I'm pretty sure I'm older than you. «End Log» Following the disastrous meeting with SCP-8338-1, the Foundation began various operations to discreetly provide him broccoli to prevent both SCP-8338 and conflict with the United States. Addendum 8338.3: Notable Action Logs Action #: 01 Description: A Foundation agent integrated into White House staff provides SCP-8338-1 a smoothie with a single piece of broccoli blended within it. It was believed the other ingredients within the smoothie would guise the broccoli's presence. Result: SCP-8338-1 graciously accepts the smoothie and begins to drink it. However, he quickly ascertains the presence of the broccoli, berating the agent as he throws out the remainder of the smoothie. Department of Analytics personnel determine SCP-8338-1 did partially consume the broccoli, staving off SCP-8338. Action #: 03 Description: Governor Jeb Bush, son of SCP-8338-1, is successfully conscripted by Foundation agents to "jokingly" encourage his father to eat more broccoli during his next visit at the White House. Result: SCP-8338-1 grows enraged at his son, culminating in an argument where Jeb Bush is eventually uninvited from the annual White House Christmas party. The attempt is deemed a failure. Action #: 09 Description: During SCP-8338-1's standard annual physical, he is provided a pill by a Foundation agent posing a nurse. The pill contains mild traces of broccoli tested to be so miniscule that the standard human senses cannot detect them. Result: SCP-8338-1 successfully takes the pill, but complains that it tastes like broccoli. How he managed to detect it remains unclear, but is possibly evident either of remnants of his latent reality-bending capabilities or additional anomalous qualities gained by being the current primary vector of SCP-8338. Action #: 15 Description: Experimental teleportation technology is utilized to transport small pieces of broccoli into the stomach of SCP-8338-1. Result: The teleportation causes complications with SCP-8338-1's stomach, causing him to require surgery to remove the broccoli. Upon his recognition that broccoli was the culprit, his aversion towards it increases. The effort is deemed a failure. Action #: 28 Description: Plans are put forward to use Erikeshan conceptual engineering to merge SCP-8338-1 with the concept of broccoli, possibly neutralizing SCP-8338. Result: Denied by Overseer Council vote. Addendum 8338.4: Assembly of the Overseer Council By 1997, SCP-8338 had been successfully staved off through the unorthodox methods, as highlighted in the previous addendum, but proved to be continually strenuous for the Foundation. A meeting of the Overseer Council was assembled to determine a solution to the issue. «Begin Log» O5-1: I now call this meeting of the Overseer Council to order. Today's topic of discussion is SCP-8338 and how to handle it. Three has the floor. O5-3: Thank you, One. For the past five years, we have managed to prevent SCP-8338 and prevent conflict with SCP-8338-1 at the same time, though the latter matters less now that he is no longer President of the United States. Regardless, SCP-8338 still presents a dangerous threat to normalcy as a whole and SCP-8338-1 still shows no signs of cooperation in the near future. We now open the floor to possible solutions. [Silence on recording.] O5-3: Seriously? Nothing? No one has anything? O5-7: Three, have you looked at all of those action logs? We've tried everything! What else could we possibly do? O5-12: Well, there is one idea we haven't tried, yet. But I don't think you're going to like it. O5-1: We'll take what we can get at this point. What's your idea, Twelve? O5-12: Let's kill him. [Silence on recording.] O5-12: What? It's not like he's president anymore. O5-9: You know, he does have a point. O5-2: But is killing a former president wise? O5-10: We've done it before. O5-1: Let's put it to a vote. YEA NAY ABSTAIN X X X X X X X X X X X X X O5-1: The motion passes. O5-3: Let's hope this works. «End Log» Addendum 8338.5: Neutralization On 08/11/1997, SCP-8338-1 was successfully terminated by members of Mobile Task Force Alpha-1 ("Red Right Hand") within his private residence. A body double created through use of a specially-modified BZHR Unit was installed to take his place, primed to expire within the next 25 years. Department of Analytics research showed all SCP-8338-affected data to revert to their expected values following the termination of SCP-8338-1. After three months of observation, SCP-8338 was reclassified as Neutralized, with SCP-8338-1's body double continuing to remain under observation. On 30/11/2018, SCP-8338-1's body double expired on schedule. The following is a notable excerpt from the eulogy given by George W. Bush, SCP-8338-1's eldest son, at the funeral given following the double's death: […] My father could never stomach broccoli, you know. I can't say I ever felt as vitrioloic as he did, though. Some days he would barge into the kitchen, see that mom had prepared some for dinner, and shout "All broccoli should be destroyed!" before storming out of the room. He was truly quite the character. I like to think I got a lot from him. […] Addendum 8338.6: File Update SCP-8338-2. On 17/12/2018, Department of Analytics personnel detected a resurgence of SCP-8338-affected data following the funeral given for SCP-8338-1's body double. Surveillance of various persons of interest to determine the reason for this revitalization of the anomaly bore fruit two weeks later, with enough data having been gathered on George W. Bush to determine he had become SCP-8338's new primary vector. Bush has been assigned the provisional designation of SCP-8338-2 until such a time the true nature of this SCP-8338 resurgence can be ascertained. Reclassification of SCP-8338 from Neutralized is pending. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8338" by MisterFrown, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8338. 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: File:1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.jpg Author: PLBechly License: CC4 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1600_Pennsylvania_Avenue.jpg Filename: File:George H. W. Bush presidential portrait (cropped).jpg Author: Unknown License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:George_H._W._Bush_presidential_portrait_(cropped).jpg Filename: File:George-W-Bush (cropped).jpeg Author: Eric Draper License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:George-W-Bush_(cropped).jpeg |
SCP-8339 | apollyon | close Info X ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains subject matter related to human conflict, war, genocide, and body horror. Reader discretion is advised. ⚠️ content warning Touch the page to read its contents. ⠐⠔⠐⠔⠠⠇⠑⠧⠑⠇⠀⠼⠁⠸⠌⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠐⠔⠐⠔ Item #: SCP-8339 ⠐⠔⠐⠔⠠⠇⠑⠧⠑⠇⠀⠼⠁⠸⠌⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠐⠔⠐⠔ Level 1/8339 ⠠⠕⠃⠚⠑⠉⠞⠀⠠⠉⠇⠁⠎⠎⠒⠀⠠⠁⠏⠕⠇⠇⠽⠕⠝ ⠠⠥⠝⠗⠑⠌⠗⠊⠉⠞⠫ Unrestricted ⠠⠁⠀⠠⠝⠑⠺⠃⠗⠇⠀⠺⠂⠧⠬⠀⠷⠀⠋⠊⠗⠑⠂⠀⠱⠀⠺⠑⠀⠓⠀⠎⠔⠉⠑⠀⠇⠰⠛⠀⠿⠛⠕⠞⠞⠢⠀⠞⠕⠀⠍⠁⠅⠑⠲ A Newbraille weaving of fire, as it is presumed to appear. ⠐⠔⠐⠔⠠⠉⠕⠝⠞⠁⠔⠰⠞⠀⠠⠍⠂⠎⠥⠗⠑⠎⠒⠐⠔⠐⠔⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠠⠎⠑⠁⠍⠎⠉⠗⠊⠃⠑⠎⠀⠜⠑⠀⠞⠕⠀⠢⠎⠥⠗⠑⠀⠞⠀⠹⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠀⠊⠎⠀⠗⠑⠏⠗⠕⠙⠥⠉⠫⠀⠁⠉⠇⠽⠀⠾⠀⠮⠀⠠⠋⠳⠗⠹⠀⠠⠛⠥⠗⠹⠊⠀⠠⠍⠯⠁⠞⠑⠲⠀⠠⠁⠞⠀⠇⠑⠁⠌⠀⠐⠕⠀⠉⠕⠏⠽⠀⠷⠀⠹⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠀⠍⠌⠀⠆⠀⠏⠇⠁⠉⠫⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠠⠇⠊⠃⠗⠜⠽⠀⠷⠀⠑⠁⠡⠀⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠲⠀⠠⠍⠥⠇⠞⠊⠏⠇⠑⠀⠉⠕⠏⠊⠑⠎⠀⠜⠑⠀⠞⠕⠀⠆⠀⠓⠳⠎⠫⠀⠔⠀⠧⠁⠥⠇⠞⠎⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠠⠇⠊⠃⠗⠜⠊⠑⠎⠀⠷⠀⠓⠊⠣⠻⠀⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠎⠂⠀⠱⠀⠺⠙⠀⠆⠌⠀⠢⠎⠥⠗⠑⠀⠞⠀⠹⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠀⠎⠥⠗⠧⠊⠧⠑⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠆⠀⠗⠑⠁⠙⠀⠔⠀⠏⠕⠌⠻⠰⠽⠲⠀⠠⠃⠽⠀⠝⠕⠀⠍⠑⠁⠝⠎⠀⠊⠎⠀⠁⠝⠽⠐⠕⠀⠞⠕⠀⠞⠁⠍⠏⠻⠀⠾⠀⠕⠗⠀⠫⠊⠞⠀⠁⠝⠽⠀⠐⠏⠀⠷⠀⠹⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠲⠀⠠⠔⠀⠁⠒⠕⠗⠙⠨⠑⠀⠾⠀⠮⠀⠠⠋⠌⠀⠠⠃⠥⠇⠇⠀⠷⠀⠠⠞⠁⠍⠇⠢⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠽⠑⠜⠀⠠⠠⠝⠑⠀⠼⠋⠛⠂⠀⠠⠙⠕⠉⠞⠕⠗⠤⠠⠙⠊⠗⠑⠉⠞⠕⠗⠎⠀⠱⠕⠀⠙⠀⠝⠀⠋⠕⠇⠇⠪⠀⠹⠀⠔⠌⠗⠥⠉⠰⠝⠀⠜⠑⠀⠞⠕⠀⠆⠀⠎⠥⠃⠚⠑⠉⠞⠀⠞⠕⠀⠏⠥⠝⠊⠩⠰⠞⠂⠀⠥⠏⠀⠞⠕⠀⠯⠀⠔⠉⠇⠥⠙⠬⠀⠃⠑⠬⠀⠙⠑⠍⠕⠞⠫⠀⠞⠕⠀⠏⠕⠎⠊⠞⠊⠕⠝⠎⠀⠁⠞⠀⠠⠐⠥⠓⠊⠧⠑⠀⠠⠇⠊⠃⠗⠜⠊⠑⠎⠲⠀ ⠠⠹⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠀⠓⠁⠎⠀⠃⠑⠢⠀⠇⠕⠌⠀⠯⠀⠗⠑⠉⠕⠝⠌⠗⠥⠉⠞⠫⠀⠸⠍⠀⠐⠞⠎⠀⠕⠧⠻⠀⠙⠑⠉⠁⠙⠑⠎⠲⠀⠠⠁⠋⠀⠮⠀⠙⠑⠌⠗⠥⠉⠰⠝⠀⠷⠀⠠⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠐⠕⠂⠀⠮⠀⠏⠗⠑⠎⠻⠧⠁⠰⠝⠀⠷⠀⠹⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠀⠔⠀⠭⠎⠀⠉⠥⠗⠗⠢⠞⠀⠿⠍⠀⠊⠎⠀⠸⠌⠸⠌⠊⠍⠏⠻⠁⠞⠊⠧⠑⠲⠸⠌⠸⠌⠀⠠⠮⠀⠠⠝⠑⠺⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠍⠌⠀⠢⠎⠥⠗⠑⠀⠞⠀⠭⠀⠊⠎⠀⠝⠀⠇⠕⠌⠀⠑⠧⠢⠀⠐⠕⠀⠐⠞⠀⠍⠲⠀ ⠠⠹⠀⠊⠎⠀⠮⠀⠕⠝⠇⠽⠀⠡⠨⠑⠀⠿⠀⠥⠀⠞⠕⠀⠗⠑⠍⠑⠍⠃⠻⠀⠱⠽⠀⠺⠑⠀⠺⠢⠞⠀⠐⠥⠛⠗⠨⠙⠲ Containment Measures: Foundation Seamscribes are to ensure that this document is reproduced accordingly with the Fourth Gurthi Mandate. At least one copy of this document must be placed in the Foundation Library of each burrow. Multiple copies are to be housed in vaults of the Foundation Libraries of higher burrows, which would best ensure that this document survives to be read in posterity. By no means is anyone to tamper with or edit any part of this document. In accordance with the First Bull of Tamlen in the year NE 67, Doctor-Directors who do not follow this instruction are to be subject to punishment, up to and including being demoted to positions at Underhive Libraries. This document has been lost and reconstructed many times over decades. After the destruction of Burrowone, the preservation of this document in its current form is imperative. The New Foundation must ensure that it is not lost even one time more. This is the only chance for us to remember why we went underground. ⠐⠔⠐⠔⠠⠕⠗⠊⠛⠔⠁⠇⠀⠠⠒⠞⠁⠔⠰⠞⠀⠠⠍⠂⠎⠥⠗⠑⠎⠒⠐⠔⠐⠔⠀⠠⠃⠁⠎⠫⠀⠕⠝⠀⠎⠉⠁⠝⠞⠀⠗⠑⠉⠕⠧⠻⠫⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠍⠢⠞⠎⠀⠯⠀⠕⠗⠁⠇⠀⠓⠊⠌⠕⠗⠽⠂⠀⠮⠀⠉⠕⠝⠞⠁⠔⠰⠞⠀⠍⠑⠁⠎⠥⠗⠑⠎⠀⠿⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠀⠉⠕⠝⠎⠊⠌⠫⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠋⠕⠇⠇⠪⠬⠀⠙⠊⠗⠑⠉⠞⠊⠧⠑⠎⠒ ⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁ ⠠⠋⠌⠂⠀⠞⠕⠀⠑⠭⠞⠬⠥⠊⠩⠀⠕⠗⠀⠉⠕⠧⠻⠀⠥⠏⠀⠁⠇⠇⠀⠎⠳⠗⠉⠑⠎⠀⠷⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠀⠔⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠎⠲⠀⠠⠝⠕⠀⠐⠕⠀⠴⠀⠞⠕⠀⠢⠞⠻⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠎⠀⠋⠀⠮⠀⠎⠥⠗⠋⠁⠉⠑⠀⠙⠥⠗⠬⠀⠮⠀⠐⠙⠲⠀⠠⠢⠞⠻⠬⠀⠋⠁⠉⠊⠇⠊⠞⠊⠑⠎⠀⠁⠞⠀⠝⠊⠣⠞⠎⠀⠱⠢⠀⠮⠀⠍⠕⠕⠝⠀⠊⠎⠀⠩⠔⠬⠀⠴⠀⠁⠇⠀⠏⠗⠕⠓⠊⠃⠊⠞⠫⠲⠀⠠⠹⠀⠴⠀⠏⠻⠿⠍⠫⠀⠵⠀⠁⠀⠞⠑⠍⠏⠕⠗⠜⠽⠀⠍⠑⠁⠎⠥⠗⠑⠲⠀⠠⠭⠀⠋⠁⠊⠇⠫⠲ ⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁ ⠠⠎⠑⠉⠕⠝⠙⠂⠀⠞⠕⠀⠋⠁⠉⠊⠇⠊⠞⠁⠞⠑⠀⠺⠁⠽⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠋⠊⠣⠞⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠲⠀⠠⠹⠀⠔⠉⠇⠥⠙⠫⠀⠥⠏⠀⠞⠕⠀⠮⠀⠥⠎⠑⠀⠷⠀⠨⠦⠙⠜⠅⠀⠃⠕⠍⠃⠎⠨⠴⠂⠀⠨⠦⠏⠓⠕⠞⠕⠏⠓⠁⠛⠊⠉⠀⠋⠊⠗⠑⠜⠍⠎⠨⠴⠂⠀⠯⠀⠨⠦⠙⠜⠅⠰⠎⠀⠇⠕⠉⠅⠎⠨⠴⠲⠀⠠⠹⠀⠋⠁⠊⠇⠫⠲ ⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁ ⠠⠹⠊⠗⠙⠂⠀⠞⠕⠀⠋⠔⠙⠀⠳⠀⠍⠑⠹⠕⠙⠎⠀⠷⠀⠇⠊⠧⠬⠀⠔⠀⠉⠕⠍⠏⠇⠑⠞⠑⠀⠙⠜⠅⠰⠎⠀⠔⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠎⠊⠞⠑⠎⠀⠱⠊⠇⠑⠀⠺⠑⠀⠐⠺⠫⠀⠳⠀⠺⠁⠽⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠋⠊⠣⠞⠀⠁⠛⠌⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠲⠀⠠⠹⠀⠋⠁⠊⠇⠫⠀⠵⠀⠺⠑⠇⠇⠲ ⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁⠈⠁ ⠠⠋⠳⠗⠹⠂⠀⠞⠕⠀⠉⠗⠑⠁⠞⠑⠀⠁⠀⠉⠕⠝⠞⠬⠢⠉⠽⠀⠊⠋⠀⠺⠑⠀⠉⠙⠀⠝⠀⠺⠔⠀⠁⠛⠌⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠲⠀⠠⠁⠇⠇⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠠⠙⠕⠉⠞⠕⠗⠎⠀⠶⠀⠞⠕⠀⠗⠑⠏⠥⠗⠏⠕⠎⠑⠀⠐⠥⠛⠗⠨⠙⠀⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠎⠀⠔⠞⠕⠀⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠎⠲⠀⠠⠛⠢⠑⠞⠊⠉⠊⠌⠎⠀⠶⠀⠞⠕⠀⠋⠔⠙⠀⠺⠁⠽⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠑⠇⠊⠍⠔⠁⠞⠑⠀⠮⠀⠺⠁⠽⠎⠀⠓⠥⠍⠁⠝⠎⠀⠑⠍⠊⠞⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠀⠋⠀⠃⠕⠙⠽⠀⠓⠑⠁⠞⠂⠀⠎⠀⠞⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠀⠺⠙⠀⠝⠀⠋⠔⠙⠀⠥⠲ ⠠⠮⠀⠋⠳⠗⠹⠀⠙⠊⠗⠑⠉⠞⠊⠧⠑⠀⠁⠇⠐⠕⠀⠎⠥⠒⠑⠫⠫⠲⠀⠠⠮⠀⠋⠳⠗⠹⠀⠙⠊⠗⠑⠉⠞⠊⠧⠑⠀⠊⠎⠀⠱⠽⠀⠺⠑⠀⠜⠑⠀⠌⠀⠁⠇⠊⠧⠑⠲ Original Containment Measures: Based on scant recovered documents and oral history, the containment measures for SCP-8339 consisted of the following directives: First, to extinguish or cover up all sources of light in Foundation Sites. No one was to enter Foundation Sites from the surface during the day. Entering facilities at nights when the moon is shining was also prohibited. This was performed as a temporary measure. It failed. Second, to facilitate ways to fight SCP-8339. This included up to the use of “dark bombs”, “photophagic firearms”, and “darkness locks”. This failed. Third, to find out methods of living in complete darkness in Foundation sites while we worked out ways to fight against SCP-8339. This failed as well. Fourth, to create a contingency if we could not win against SCP-8339. All Foundation Doctors were to repurpose underground Sites into burrows. Geneticists were to find ways to eliminate the ways humans emit light from body heat, so that SCP-8339 would not find us. The fourth directive alone succeeded. The fourth directive is why we are still alive. ⠐⠔⠐⠔⠠⠙⠑⠎⠉⠗⠊⠏⠞⠊⠕⠝⠒⠐⠔⠐⠔⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠀⠊⠎⠀⠮⠀⠙⠑⠎⠊⠛⠝⠁⠰⠝⠀⠿⠀⠮⠀⠢⠞⠊⠞⠊⠑⠎⠀⠐⠅⠝⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠉⠕⠍⠍⠕⠝⠀⠞⠕⠝⠛⠥⠑⠀⠵⠀⠮⠀⠨⠦⠠⠇⠥⠍⠔⠜⠊⠑⠎⠨⠴⠲⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠀⠜⠑⠀⠎⠢⠎⠊⠞⠊⠧⠑⠀⠞⠕⠀⠁⠇⠇⠀⠿⠍⠎⠀⠷⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠲⠀⠠⠮⠽⠀⠗⠑⠇⠽⠀⠕⠝⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠀⠞⠕⠀⠞⠑⠇⠇⠀⠮⠍⠀⠺⠐⠓⠀⠞⠕⠀⠛⠂⠀⠯⠀⠜⠑⠀⠉⠁⠏⠁⠃⠇⠑⠀⠷⠀⠎⠑⠑⠬⠀⠑⠧⠢⠀⠮⠀⠋⠁⠔⠞⠑⠌⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠀⠐⠹⠀⠺⠁⠇⠇⠎⠀⠓⠥⠝⠙⠗⠫⠎⠀⠷⠀⠇⠂⠛⠥⠑⠎⠀⠁⠺⠁⠽⠲⠀⠠⠮⠽⠀⠍⠕⠧⠑⠀⠁⠞⠀⠊⠍⠍⠑⠁⠎⠥⠗⠁⠃⠇⠑⠀⠎⠏⠑⠫⠎⠂⠀⠯⠀⠜⠑⠀⠐⠅⠝⠀⠞⠕⠀⠉⠁⠥⠎⠑⠀⠁⠝⠽⠀⠇⠊⠧⠬⠀⠆⠬⠀⠮⠽⠀⠞⠳⠡⠀⠞⠕⠀⠗⠥⠏⠞⠥⠗⠑⠀⠔⠞⠕⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠀⠔⠀⠑⠀⠎⠏⠑⠉⠞⠗⠥⠍⠲⠀⠠⠔⠀⠮⠀⠐⠞⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠠⠋⠌⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠂⠀⠹⠀⠁⠇⠇⠪⠫⠀⠿⠀⠍⠀⠷⠀⠮⠍⠀⠞⠕⠀⠎⠑⠑⠀⠸⠌⠸⠌⠽⠳⠸⠌⠸⠌⠲⠀⠠⠁⠝⠽⠀⠍⠑⠁⠝⠎⠀⠷⠀⠃⠜⠗⠬⠀⠢⠞⠗⠽⠀⠴⠀⠥⠎⠑⠨⠎⠂⠀⠎⠀⠇⠰⠛⠀⠵⠀⠮⠽⠀⠙⠑⠞⠑⠉⠞⠫⠀⠮⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠀⠞⠀⠽⠀⠑⠍⠊⠞⠞⠫⠲⠀⠠⠮⠽⠀⠙⠀⠝⠀⠑⠁⠞⠂⠀⠮⠽⠀⠙⠀⠝⠀⠙⠗⠔⠅⠂⠀⠮⠽⠀⠙⠀⠝⠀⠎⠇⠑⠑⠏⠲⠀⠠⠮⠽⠀⠅⠊⠇⠇⠀⠐⠑⠽⠹⠬⠀⠮⠽⠀⠎⠑⠑⠲ ⠠⠞⠕⠀⠐⠑⠽⠐⠕⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠠⠝⠑⠺⠀⠠⠻⠁⠂⠀⠸⠌⠸⠌⠮⠽⠸⠌⠸⠌⠀⠜⠑⠀⠮⠀⠎⠕⠇⠑⠀⠗⠑⠁⠎⠕⠝⠀⠱⠽⠀⠺⠑⠀⠌⠀⠓⠊⠙⠑⠀⠔⠀⠉⠁⠧⠑⠎⠀⠐⠥⠛⠗⠨⠙⠲ Description: SCP-8339 is the designation for the entities known in the common tongue as the “Luminaries”. SCP-8339 are sensitive to all forms of light. They rely on light to tell them where to go, and are capable of seeing even the faintest light through walls hundreds of leagues away. They move at immeasurable speeds, and are known to cause any living being they touch to rupture into light in every spectrum. In the time of the First Foundation, this allowed for more of them to see you. Any means of barring entry was useless, so long as they detected the light that you emitted. They do not eat, they do not drink, they do not sleep. They kill everything they see. To everyone in the New Era, they are the sole reason why we still hide in caves underground. ⠐⠔⠐⠔⠠⠁⠙⠙⠢⠙⠥⠍⠒⠐⠔⠐⠔⠀⠠⠮⠀⠋⠕⠇⠇⠪⠬⠀⠊⠎⠀⠁⠀⠗⠑⠉⠕⠧⠻⠫⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠀⠺⠗⠊⠞⠞⠢⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠽⠑⠜⠀⠠⠠⠕⠑⠀⠼⠉⠂⠀⠁⠇⠇⠑⠛⠫⠇⠽⠀⠁⠥⠹⠕⠗⠫⠀⠃⠽⠀⠠⠁⠙⠍⠔⠊⠌⠗⠁⠞⠕⠗⠀⠠⠛⠥⠗⠹⠊⠀⠆⠋⠀⠮⠀⠠⠍⠕⠝⠐⠙⠀⠠⠍⠁⠎⠎⠁⠉⠗⠑⠀⠷⠀⠠⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠐⠕⠲⠀⠠⠭⠀⠊⠎⠀⠮⠀⠕⠝⠇⠽⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠀⠋⠀⠮⠀⠠⠎⠑⠉⠕⠝⠙⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠷⠀⠠⠙⠕⠉⠞⠕⠗⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠎⠥⠗⠧⠊⠧⠑⠀⠞⠕⠀⠮⠀⠠⠝⠑⠺⠀⠠⠻⠁⠲⠀⠠⠿⠀⠏⠕⠌⠻⠰⠽⠂⠀⠭⠎⠀⠒⠞⠢⠞⠎⠀⠓⠀⠆⠢⠀⠗⠑⠉⠕⠗⠙⠫⠀⠆⠇⠲ ⠠⠕⠗⠊⠛⠔⠁⠇⠇⠽⠂⠀⠮⠀⠠⠋⠌⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠷⠀⠠⠙⠕⠉⠞⠕⠗⠎⠀⠆⠇⠊⠑⠧⠫⠀⠞⠀⠮⠀⠠⠇⠥⠍⠔⠜⠊⠑⠎⠠⠤⠀⠮⠀⠁⠝⠉⠊⠢⠞⠀⠘⠺⠀⠿⠀⠳⠗⠀⠢⠑⠍⠽⠠⠤⠀⠕⠝⠇⠽⠀⠎⠁⠺⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠎⠏⠑⠉⠞⠗⠥⠍⠀⠷⠀⠧⠊⠎⠊⠃⠇⠑⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠂⠀⠵⠀⠺⠑⠀⠓⠥⠍⠁⠝⠎⠀⠜⠑⠀⠁⠇⠇⠑⠛⠫⠇⠽⠀⠁⠃⠇⠑⠀⠞⠕⠀⠎⠑⠑⠲⠀⠠⠎⠂⠀⠔⠀⠸⠮⠀⠜⠗⠕⠛⠨⠑⠂⠀⠮⠽⠀⠍⠯⠁⠞⠫⠀⠮⠀⠋⠌⠀⠹⠗⠑⠑⠀⠙⠊⠗⠑⠉⠞⠊⠧⠑⠎⠲⠀⠠⠮⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠴⠀⠒⠋⠊⠙⠢⠞⠀⠞⠀⠊⠋⠀⠮⠽⠀⠞⠥⠗⠝⠫⠀⠷⠋⠀⠸⠮⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠎⠀⠯⠀⠙⠕⠝⠝⠫⠀⠸⠮⠀⠛⠕⠶⠇⠑⠎⠂⠀⠮⠽⠀⠺⠙⠀⠎⠥⠗⠧⠊⠧⠑⠲⠀⠠⠿⠀⠮⠀⠋⠌⠀⠋⠑⠺⠀⠺⠑⠑⠅⠎⠂⠀⠮⠽⠀⠉⠕⠝⠞⠔⠥⠫⠀⠞⠕⠀⠃⠑⠇⠊⠑⠧⠑⠀⠹⠲⠀ ⠠⠮⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠙⠊⠙⠀⠝⠀⠗⠂⠇⠊⠵⠑⠀⠞⠀⠭⠀⠴⠀⠆⠉⠀⠮⠀⠢⠑⠍⠽⠀⠴⠀⠕⠝⠇⠽⠀⠛⠕⠬⠀⠿⠀⠑⠁⠎⠊⠻⠂⠀⠍⠀⠇⠥⠍⠔⠳⠎⠀⠏⠗⠑⠽⠲⠀ ⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠤⠼⠁⠊⠀⠴⠀⠮⠀⠃⠊⠛⠛⠑⠌⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠎⠂⠀⠯⠀⠴⠀⠢⠞⠊⠗⠑⠇⠽⠀⠎⠊⠞⠥⠁⠞⠫⠀⠐⠥⠛⠗⠨⠙⠲⠀⠠⠕⠝⠉⠑⠀⠮⠀⠠⠇⠥⠍⠔⠜⠊⠑⠎⠀⠶⠀⠙⠐⠕⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠝⠑⠜⠃⠽⠀⠉⠰⠽⠀⠷⠀⠠⠝⠑⠺⠀⠠⠽⠕⠗⠅⠂⠀⠮⠽⠀⠋⠨⠙⠀⠮⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠀⠑⠍⠊⠞⠞⠫⠀⠃⠽⠀⠮⠀⠃⠕⠙⠽⠀⠓⠑⠁⠞⠀⠷⠀⠹⠳⠎⠯⠎⠀⠷⠀⠏⠀⠯⠀⠁⠝⠕⠍⠁⠇⠊⠑⠎⠀⠁⠇⠊⠅⠑⠲⠀ ⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠤⠼⠁⠊⠀⠋⠑⠇⠇⠀⠾⠔⠀⠓⠳⠗⠎⠲ ⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠀⠠⠐⠕⠀⠸⠓⠀⠁⠇⠗⠀⠍⠯⠁⠞⠫⠀⠮⠀⠋⠌⠀⠹⠗⠑⠑⠀⠙⠊⠗⠑⠉⠞⠊⠧⠑⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠉⠳⠝⠞⠻⠁⠉⠞⠀⠠⠠⠎⠉⠏⠤⠼⠓⠉⠉⠊⠲⠀⠠⠁⠋⠀⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠤⠼⠁⠊⠂⠀⠮⠽⠀⠁⠙⠙⠫⠀⠮⠀⠋⠳⠗⠹⠂⠀⠯⠀⠮⠀⠠⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠀⠏⠗⠕⠚⠑⠉⠞⠀⠃⠑⠛⠁⠝⠀⠔⠀⠑⠜⠝⠑⠌⠲⠀⠠⠛⠢⠑⠞⠊⠉⠊⠌⠎⠀⠁⠞⠞⠑⠍⠏⠞⠫⠀⠞⠕⠀⠋⠔⠙⠀⠺⠁⠽⠎⠀⠞⠕⠀⠍⠁⠎⠅⠀⠓⠥⠍⠁⠝⠎⠠⠴⠀⠃⠕⠙⠽⠀⠓⠑⠁⠞…⠀⠯⠀⠁⠇⠇⠀⠮⠀⠱⠊⠇⠑⠂⠀⠮⠀⠍⠕⠝⠌⠻⠎⠀⠎⠝⠥⠖⠫⠀⠳⠀⠠⠎⠊⠞⠑⠎⠀⠁⠇⠇⠀⠕⠧⠻⠀⠮⠀⠸⠺⠂⠀⠅⠊⠇⠇⠬⠀⠱⠁⠞⠀⠴⠀⠇⠑⠋⠞⠀⠷⠀⠥⠲ ⠠⠯⠀⠮⠝⠀⠮⠀⠠⠛⠢⠑⠞⠊⠉⠊⠌⠎⠀⠎⠥⠒⠑⠫⠫⠲⠀⠠⠓⠥⠍⠁⠝⠊⠞⠽⠠⠴⠎⠀⠃⠇⠕⠕⠙⠀⠃⠑⠛⠁⠝⠀⠞⠕⠀⠗⠥⠝⠀⠉⠕⠇⠙⠲⠀⠠⠺⠑⠀⠶⠀⠑⠋⠋⠑⠉⠞⠊⠧⠑⠇⠽⠀⠓⠊⠙⠙⠢⠀⠋⠀⠸⠮⠀⠎⠊⠣⠞⠲ ⠠⠺⠑⠀⠋⠔⠁⠇⠇⠽⠀⠗⠑⠞⠗⠑⠁⠞⠫⠀⠢⠞⠊⠗⠑⠇⠽⠀⠐⠥⠛⠗⠨⠙⠲⠀⠠⠺⠑⠀⠩⠫⠀⠳⠗⠀⠉⠕⠍⠿⠞⠎⠲⠀⠠⠺⠑⠀⠁⠃⠯⠐⠕⠙⠀⠠⠑⠇⠑⠉⠞⠗⠊⠉⠰⠽⠲⠀⠠⠺⠑⠀⠁⠃⠯⠐⠕⠙⠀⠠⠋⠊⠗⠑⠲⠀⠠⠺⠑⠀⠁⠃⠯⠐⠕⠙⠀⠠⠇⠊⠣⠞⠲ ⠠⠮⠝⠀⠉⠁⠍⠑⠀⠮⠀⠠⠁⠛⠑⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠠⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠎⠲⠀⠠⠮⠀⠠⠐⠥⠓⠊⠧⠑⠀⠠⠏⠻⠊⠕⠙⠲⠀⠠⠮⠀⠠⠔⠧⠁⠨⠝⠀⠠⠏⠻⠊⠕⠙⠲⠀⠠⠁⠇⠇⠀⠻⠕⠙⠬⠀⠳⠗⠀⠅⠀⠷⠀⠱⠕⠀⠺⠑⠀⠥⠎⠫⠀⠞⠕⠀⠃⠑⠂⠀⠵⠀⠳⠗⠀⠇⠊⠃⠗⠜⠊⠑⠎⠀⠶⠀⠙⠑⠌⠗⠕⠽⠫⠀⠯⠀⠺⠑⠀⠎⠥⠝⠅⠀⠔⠞⠕⠀⠏⠑⠞⠞⠽⠂⠀⠙⠑⠌⠗⠥⠉⠞⠊⠧⠑⠀⠉⠕⠝⠋⠇⠊⠉⠞⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠙⠜⠅⠲⠀⠠⠺⠑⠀⠹⠔⠝⠫⠀⠳⠀⠮⠀⠠⠐⠥⠓⠊⠧⠻⠎⠂⠀⠯⠀⠮⠀⠠⠐⠥⠓⠊⠧⠻⠎⠀⠃⠥⠞⠉⠐⠓⠙⠀⠥⠀⠃⠁⠉⠅⠲⠀⠠⠺⠑⠀⠉⠕⠇⠇⠁⠏⠎⠫⠀⠸⠮⠀⠃⠥⠗⠗⠪⠎⠂⠀⠯⠀⠮⠽⠀⠍⠁⠎⠎⠁⠉⠗⠫⠀⠳⠗⠎⠲⠀⠠⠔⠀⠘⠮⠀⠙⠊⠍⠀⠽⠑⠜⠎⠂⠀⠁⠇⠇⠀⠺⠑⠀⠉⠜⠑⠀⠁⠃⠀⠊⠎⠀⠉⠁⠧⠬⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠎⠅⠥⠇⠇⠎⠀⠷⠀⠳⠗⠀⠇⠑⠎⠎⠻⠎⠠⠤⠀⠯⠀⠺⠑⠀⠑⠭⠥⠇⠞⠀⠔⠀⠭⠲ ⠠⠃⠀⠝⠪…⠀⠺⠑⠀⠿⠛⠑⠞⠀⠞⠀⠮⠀⠠⠇⠥⠍⠔⠜⠊⠑⠎⠀⠜⠑⠀⠑⠧⠢⠀⠸⠌⠸⠌⠞⠐⠓⠸⠌⠸⠌⠲ ⠠⠳⠗⠀⠠⠋⠳⠝⠙⠁⠰⠝⠀⠴⠀⠙⠑⠌⠗⠕⠽⠫⠀⠕⠝⠉⠑⠂⠀⠯⠀⠗⠑⠃⠥⠊⠇⠞⠲⠀⠠⠕⠝⠉⠑⠀⠹⠀⠺⠜⠀⠊⠎⠀⠙⠐⠕⠀⠾⠂⠀⠠⠊⠀⠓⠀⠝⠕⠀⠙⠳⠃⠞⠀⠞⠀⠭⠀⠺⠀⠆⠀⠙⠑⠌⠗⠕⠽⠫⠀⠯⠀⠗⠑⠃⠥⠊⠇⠞⠀⠕⠝⠉⠑⠀⠁⠛⠲ ⠠⠺⠑⠀⠜⠑⠀⠍⠻⠑⠇⠽⠀⠮⠀⠎⠥⠗⠧⠊⠧⠕⠗⠎⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠢⠙⠎⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠸⠺⠂⠀⠏⠊⠉⠅⠬⠀⠥⠏⠀⠮⠀⠏⠊⠑⠉⠑⠎⠲ ⠠⠺⠑⠀⠺⠙⠀⠏⠥⠞⠀⠳⠗⠀⠓⠊⠌⠕⠗⠽⠀⠐⠓⠂⠀⠃⠀⠺⠑⠀⠓⠀⠝⠐⠕⠲⠀ ⠠⠃⠀⠺⠑⠀⠺⠀⠎⠥⠗⠧⠊⠧⠑⠲⠀⠠⠆⠉⠀⠺⠑⠀⠜⠑⠀⠌⠀⠓⠥⠍⠁⠝⠲⠀⠠⠯⠀⠺⠑⠀⠉⠀⠌⠀⠞⠁⠅⠑⠀⠃⠁⠉⠅⠀⠱⠁⠞⠀⠊⠎⠀⠳⠗⠎⠲ ⠠⠺⠑⠀⠙⠊⠑⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠙⠜⠅⠀⠎⠀⠞⠀⠺⠑⠀⠉⠀⠇⠊⠧⠑⠀⠔⠀⠮⠀⠇⠊⠣⠞⠲ ⠐⠔⠐⠔⠠⠙⠕⠀⠝⠀⠗⠑⠧⠊⠎⠑⠀⠹⠀⠙⠕⠉⠥⠰⠞⠲⠀⠠⠁⠝⠽⠀⠗⠫⠥⠉⠰⠝⠀⠕⠗⠀⠁⠙⠙⠊⠰⠝⠀⠞⠕⠀⠘⠮⠀⠒⠞⠢⠞⠎⠀⠺⠀⠆⠀⠗⠑⠛⠜⠙⠫⠀⠵⠀⠞⠁⠍⠏⠻⠬⠲⠀⠠⠁⠝⠽⠀⠿⠍⠀⠷⠀⠞⠁⠍⠏⠻⠬⠀⠺⠀⠆⠀⠍⠑⠞⠀⠾⠀⠏⠥⠝⠊⠩⠍⠢⠞⠲⠐⠔⠐⠔ Addendum: The following is a recovered document written in the year OE 3, allegedly authored by Administrator Gurthi before the Monday Massacre of Burrowone. It is the only document from the Second Foundation of Doctors to survive to the New Era. For posterity, its contents have been recorded below. Originally, the First Foundation of Doctors believed that the Luminaries– the ancient word for our enemy– only saw in the spectrum of visible light, as we humans are allegedly able to see. So, in their arrogance, they mandated the first three directives. The Foundation was confident that if they turned off their lights and donned their goggles, they would survive. For the first few weeks, they continued to believe this. The Foundation did not realize that it was because the enemy was only going for easier, more luminous prey. Site-19 was the biggest of the Sites, and was entirely situated underground. Once the Luminaries were done in the nearby city of New York, they found the light emitted by the body heat of thousands of people and anomalies alike. Site-19 fell within hours. Site One had already mandated the first three directives to counteract SCP-8339. After Site-19, they added the fourth, and the Burrow project began in earnest. Geneticists attempted to find ways to mask humans’ body heat… and all the while, the monsters snuffed out Sites all over the world, killing what was left of us. And then the Geneticists succeeded. Humanity’s blood began to run cold. We were effectively hidden from their sight. We finally retreated entirely underground. We shed our comforts. We abandoned Electricity. We abandoned Fire. We abandoned Light. Then came the Age of the Burrows. The Underhive Period. The Invasion Period. All eroding our knowledge of who we used to be, as our libraries were destroyed and we sunk into petty, destructive conflict in the dark. We thinned out the Underhivers, and the Underhivers butchered us back. We collapsed their burrows, and they massacred ours. In these dim years, all we care about is caving in the skulls of our lessers– and we exult in it. But now… we forget that the Luminaries are even there. Our Foundation was destroyed once, and rebuilt. Once this war is done with, I have no doubt that it will be destroyed and rebuilt once again. We are merely the survivors of the ends of the world, picking up the pieces. We would put our history here, but we have none. But we will survive. Because we are still human. And we can still take back what is ours. We die in the dark so that we can live in the light. Do not revise this document. Any reduction or addition to these contents will be regarded as tampering. Any form of tampering will be met with punishment. Now. Turn the page over. + Turn the page over - Turn the page back They won’t catch me. Because I have the same ability you do. You can read Oldletters too, can’t you? So keep quiet, for your sake. And don’t tell them what I’m about to tell you. You see, I was merely a student when my teacher rediscovered Fire. Its brilliance was something I could never before dream of. It seemed to glow in the darkness, and sway even in the still air. I could see it give birth to smaller versions of itself, throwing them above her like a mushroomwoman throws salt. The entirety of the rock wall behind it was shown to me in ways I had only felt before. At once I saw the intricate details in the stone– the way it can jut out and recede with not the slightest thought given to its design. “Do you see it, Professor?” I said, solitary in the back of the room. “Do you see what you have created?” “What?” My teacher answered. “What did I create? I cannot see, Thomald.” It was then that I realized what I was capable of that my teacher was not. But I did not think much of it then. I lifted a finger, and pointed at it– though he did not, of course, see it. “In front of you, there!” The fire gave a crackle, and at once my teacher looked straight at it. I could only discern the slightest curve of his form in the dark, but I knew at once that he was fascinated. I was sure he could feel the intensity of its warmth from how close he was– for even I, many meters away, could feel the sudden heat that rushed into the room from my teacher’s creation. It must have been scalding. “I have done it!” He shouted. He was so delighted then, so full of joy and mirth. “I have done it, I have! Fire! I have created Fire!” I was about to join in with my teacher’s festivities, make ready to describe the brilliance of the glow that I saw… but it was then we realized that our joy had attracted people to us. The Library’s guards came in quickly, but at first did not realize what it was that crackled and warmed them so. But they knew enough from what my teacher said that it was what we all, as Foundation Doctors, were forbidden to create. Fire. Light. And with Light, death. The guards used their maces to kill my teacher quickly, though it seemed they had no idea what to do with the fire. It burned one and nearly jumped onto another, but the third man had the knowledge needed to feel around for water from an adjacent room and then splash it onto the fire. I was so scared of discovery then, thinking that perhaps, in the dying firelight, they would see me. But they didn’t. When I kept quiet, they took my teacher’s body and left. It was then that it sunk into me that I had an ability none of them had. Not my teacher, not any of the three guards. I could see. I could see light– and none of the Lumins had come to kill us. They were gone. It was then that I realized that I now so wanted to see brilliant things again, and see them true. I remember the old books we used to have in the Foundation library. How we could determine detail even though we were meters away, how we could distinguish people not just by voice but by appearance, how we could know what emotions we could show just from the expressions on our faces… Faces. I so longed to see a human face. We still have eyes that twinkle, I thought, and small wonderful ears that inform us of everything around. We still have mouths full of perfect sets of teeth, one above and one below, and a nose that could be both small and quaint on one person and large and aristocratic on another. Most of all though, I wanted to see the way we could apparently *smile*- how our cheeks could elevate and our teeth would show and our eyes would shine… shine in only the way that light could show us. Joy, after all, was a familiar concept to me. But I had no notion of what a smile could even look like. But in doing so, I had to do the one thing that my teacher was killed in front of me for doing. I had to make *Fire*. And now the monsters who left us down here could no longer stop me from doing it. So I pored over the books in the library, what remaining ones there were, looking for every single hint I could get of what my teacher so accidentally stumbled upon. Over years, I got the gist. You need only two pieces of flint, or rock, and strike them together. You then had to procure something dry that could “burn”– in the before days… wood and cloth. In the new era, coal and mushroom fabric. When they created little sparks of light, you were on the right track. I stockpiled what felt like dozens of kilograms of coal and fabric in those days, striking stones together above it in a way that could strike it alight. On the fifth day of my eighth year of my quest, I succeeded. The brilliance then… the Fire I spawned was magnitudes more terrible than anything I had seen with that created by my master, stinging my eyes and my skin and everything else. It was beautiful, but I could not bear to be close to it for so long. I fell back, screaming, trying to get the warmth away from my skin, wondering why it felt as if my entire body was melting away. My master’s fire could not have compared to mine. I felt like I was… “*burning*”. As I lay there gasping and panting, panicking as the scalding heat receded with my growing distance, I realized that with my noise… someone had heard me. “Hello?” A female voice said, calling out with the vulgar accent of the burrowfolk of Browsenteen. “Do you mayhaps need help?” I began to panic. I remember what they did to my teacher, surely this woman would see me as well, see the light that spilled into the tunnels, and would tell of my sin to the Doctor-Director. Then I would meet the same fate as my teacher. Then, I would die. But as she came closer and into the light, I realized that she had the same condition then as the guards that came to kill my teacher. She didn’t see me, or the light spilling in behind me, or the sin I was so afraid she would report. But in the light of the Fire, I saw *her.* You understand, we never knew what each other looked like. Most of us could only think to know what our loved ones looked like in the intimate hours of the sleeptime, when we could trace our hands across their faces and feel two eyes, one nose, one mouth, and two ears. We could never really see what the old records told us. We could never check if what we felt was the truth. The textures we felt then… they paled in comparison to the detail in which I saw this woman now. I wanted to know what a human face looked like. What ears looked like. What noses looked like. What eyes looked like. What a *smile* looked like. And now I knew. She was *beautiful*. Do you realize that? Do you realize what this revealed to me? It's burnt into my head now. Every inch of my mind. But I don't need to tell you what it's like, do I? … … … … … … … … … feel your own face. … We've died in the dark for so long. Shed your chains. Let's live in the light. - Turn the page back Basophobia: Leap of Faith SCP Anthology 2024 Nucleomitophobia: Complete Cultural Victory ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8339" by Ecronak & AnAnomalousWriter, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8339. 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: fire.jpg Author: Ecronak License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki This image is a composite of: Filename: Fire.jpg Author: Minor Prophet License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://openverse.org/image/3064a1ef-555f-454f-97d7-e8d8550ba7c2?q=fire Filename: Moleman.jpg Author: AnAnomalousWriter License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki This image is a composite of: Filename: Hairdresser training head (mannequin head) from company L'Image, No.6.jpg Author: Minor Prophet License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hairdresser_training_head_(mannequin_head)_from_company_L%27Image,_No.6.jpg Filename: A Face Only a Naked Mole Rat Queen Could Love….jpg Author: John Brighenti License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/alchemist_x/32757810517/ Filename: naked mole rat.jpg Author: John Brighenti License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/jedimentat/7557258168/ Filename: Teeth Monkey NHM Rotterdam 3D.jpg Author: wim hoppenbrouwers License: Public Domain Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/hoppenbrouwers/44467478370/ Filename: Rata Topo.jpg Author: TxanTxunai License: CC-BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rata_Topo.jpg Filename: Plucked chicken wing.jpg Author: ProjectManhattan, Kersti Nebelsiek License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Plucked_chicken_wing.jpg Filename: Chickens in market.jpg Author: Tomás Castelazo License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chickens_in_market.jpg Filename: Eye wide open on me.jpg Author: wladston License: CC-BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/70973156@N00/283455759/ Filename: Cranium, male (6876032647).jpg Author: The Swedish History Museum, Stockholm License: CC-BY 2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cranium,_male_(6876032647).jpg Filename: Intraoral-photograph-showing-conical-mesiodens.jpg Author: Varun Pratap Singh, Amita Sharma, Sonam Sharma License: CC-BY 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Intraoral-photograph-showing-conical-mesiodens.jpg |
SCP-8343 | neutralized | #page-content .collapsible-block { position: relative; padding: 0.5em; margin: 0.5em; box-shadow: 2px 1.5px 1px rgba(176,16,0,0.7), 0 0 0px 1px lightgrey; overflow-wrap: break-word; } .collapsible-block-unfolded{ color: black; overflow-wrap: break-word; } .collapsible-block-unfolded-link { text-align:center; } .collapsible-block-folded { text-align: center; color: dimgrey; } .collapsible-block-link { font-weight: bold; color: dimgrey; text-align: center; } .addendumbox { padding: .01em 16px; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-top: 16px; padding-bottom: 1em; box-shadow:0 2px 5px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.16),0 2px 10px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.12); } .material-box { padding: .01em 16px; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-top: 16px; padding-bottom: 1em; border: 1px lightgrey solid; box-shadow: 1px 2px 2px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.16); } .material-box blockquote { border: 1px double #999; } .wiki-content-table { width: 100%; } .addendumbox blockquote { border: 1px double #999; } .addendumtitle { opacity: 0.8; margin-bottom: 10px; color: #b01; } .maintitle { margin-bottom: 10px; color: black; } .scp-header { text-align: center; font-size:x-large; color:#b01; } .addenda-header { width: 100%; border-bottom: 2px black solid; color: black; } .scp-info { display:flex; justify-content:space-between; font-size:large; } .scp-info-box { display:flex; justify-content:space-between; } .object-info { color:black; align-self: flex-end; font-size: large; } .title-style { opacity: 0.8; margin-bottom: 10px; color: #b01; font-size: large; text-decoration: underline; font-weight: bold; } .update-div-empty { text-align: right; font-size: x-small; color: lightgrey; } .update-div { text-align: right; font-size: x-small; } .computed { border: 1px black solid; width: 50%; display: inline-block; text-align: left; padding: 3px; } .computed:before { content:"Computed Code"; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: solid 1px black; width: 100%; } .rawcode { border: black solid 1px; width: 50%; display: inline-block; text-align: left; padding: 3px; } .rawcode:before{ content:"Raw Code"; text-align: center; font-weight: bold; border-bottom: solid 1px black; width: 100%; } .codebox { display: inline-block; width: 100%; text-align: center; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em, .yui-navset .yui-nav a em{ padding: 0.25em .75em; top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a { background: gray; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected { margin: 0px; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a { background: gray; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus { background: gainsboro; text-decoration: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a { background-color: none; background-image: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a { background: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li{ margin: 0px; } #page-content .licensebox .collapsible-block { position: unset; padding: unset; margin: unset; box-shadow: unset; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-unfolded{ color: inherit; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-unfolded-link { text-align: left; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-folded { text-align: left; color: inherit; } .licensebox .collapsible-block-link { color: inherit; text-align: left; } The following document is classified Level 5/8343 classification. Unauthorized access is forbidden. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE TERMINATION VIA THE RELEASE OF "FALSE GOD" MEMETIC KILL AGENT Item#: 8343 Level5 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: critical link to memo 16th century illustration of SCP-8343, author unknown. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8343 is currently classified as neutralized as of the events of Operation Anthropos Heimarene, which can be reviewed in Addendum 8343.4. All documents related to SCP-8343 are preserved for archival purposes. The remaining artifacts, paratechnologies, and documents that are related to SCP-8343 are classified as different SCP objects. Information related to the Sixth Occult War and all events that are not listed in the documentation below are currently classified by the Records and Information Security Administration. In the case that further documentation is necessary, please contact your Head Administrator of Site-01 for approval. After the outcome of Operation Anthropos Heimarene and Incident Second Deluge, monitoring system WATCHDOG must be constantly monitoring Nexus-34 to verify that nexus' anomalous metrics have not been altered dramatically since the last survey after Operation Anthropos Heimarene. In the case that Nexus-34 metrics shift dramatically, either decreasing or increasing, an area must be established surrounding the perimeter of the nexus to inspect the area under Mobile Task Force Alpha-1 ("Red Right Hand"). The WATCHDOG system must also constantly survey the area and warn of any possible individuals or groups to be near the area, whether normal or otherwise, to dispatch the proper precautions to deal with the situation. Unless the situation demands it, containment procedures for Nexus-34 will remain the same. Nexus-34 is unavailable for trespassing by all Foundation personnel, including the O5 Council itself, because of the effects that the nexus has on psyche of individuals when interacting with it because of the concentrated remains of SCP-8343 in the area. Finally, items and artifacts utilized for the neutralization of SCP-8343 are placed on high-priority for the O5 Council. Description: SCP-8343 was an Apex-Tier Pluripotent Entity, a deific entity that reflected the Abrahamic God1. Despite the Foundation's knowledge of SCP-8343 being an imitation of the Abrahamic God, it did resemble the attributes characterized by the Abrahamic God. However, despite this difference, the extent of SCP-8343's capabilities were never fully recorded or listed. Following the resemblance between SCP-8343 and the Abrahamic, despite the differentiation between the two, SCP-8343 has been charactrized with the following attributes: omnipotence, omnipresence, omniscience, and omnibenevolence. It is unknown if SCP-8343 was created by a previous entity before itself, or if it had always existed prior to the creation of the universe as we know it. However, it is a confirmed fact that SCP-8343 was the creator of the universe2. Throughout human records, multiple names have been given to SCP-8343, including: Aten, El, Elohim, YHWH3, Jehovah, Allah, the Monad, the Lord, The One, the Supreme Being, the Great Architect of the Universe, Star Maker4, and many other variations to refer to SCP-83435. It is also unknown how much of an impact SCP-8343 has had in the history of the universe and humanity prior to the invention of writing and early human records, but research demonstrates that the earliest recorded conception of SCP-83436 appears across multiple cultures, throughout multiple geographical territories apart from each other, indicating the existence of SCP-8343 and its interaction with humanity from the earliest years of the latter’s existence. The relationship between SCP-8343 and the anomalous is the following: since SCP-8343 was the creator of the universe, and therefore the designer of nature, SCP-8343 is also the creator and the designer of the anomalous. Scientists and theologians, before and after the formation of the Foundation, have attempted to resolve the question of why did SCP-8343 decide to create a universe in which it had absolute control of it, and still decided to design a universe in which the anomalous existed. Because of the supposed omnipotence and omniscience of SCP-8343, scientists and theologians have attempted to resolve how the anomalous and the natural laws of the universe could co-exist in a universe created by SCP-8343. This dichotomy of definitions and contradictions between the perceived omnibenevolence and omnipotence of SCP-8343 towards humanity, while allowing a force that defied nature and man’s intent to explain natural phenomena, as well as paranatural phenomenon through the use of the scientific method, has caused an immense debate on the righteousness and necessity for the continuous existence of SCP-8343. This debate took off further, as well as more aggressive and misotheistic, after the multiple occult wars waged across the century of Earth’s history as well as the later discovery and development of the scientific method. By the 19th century, occult societies and paranormal government agencies grew more weary of their defiance against SCP–8343, as more scientific discoveries disproved not only the existence of SCP-8343, but also of the existence of the anomalous. For more information regarding the official turning point of the relationship between SCP-8343 and mankind, please refer to Addendum 8343.1. Addendum 8343.1: Discovery of SCP-8343 Depiction of Solomon's Temple according to Lord Theodore Blackwood, donated from his personal records to the SCP Foundation. While human records indicated the potential existence of SCP-8343, a lack of any physical evidence that could demonstrate an empirical interaction with SCP-8343, with the exception of testimonies from religious and spiritual individuals and groups that testimonied the existence of SCP-8343, were so far nonexistent. However, this changed with the discovery of multiple paraarcheological and parahistorical evidence from the 10th BCE by Her Majesty’s Foundation for the Studies of Curiosities and Phantasmagoria claimed to be written by King Solomon of Israel. This paraarcheological objects, which would include multiple texts written by King Solomon, such as The Greater Key of Solomon, the Testament of Solomon, and the Magical Treatise of Solomon. These paraarcheological records contained multiple topics that ranged from thaumaturgy, demonology, necromancy, clairvoyance, mysticism, and occult practices and studies researched and recorded during the reign of King Solomon – many of these written the epinonymous king himself. Many of these records indicated the existence of a ritual designed and performed by King Solomon, which would later be contained and referred to as the “Rite of Solomon”. The discovery of these paraarcheological objects led to an interest in searching for the mentioned “Seven Keys of Solomon'', with the intent of studying them and perhaps utilizing them for interest of the British Empire – because of this, the expeditionary force, then led by Dr. Frederick Williams was then supported by Lord Theodore Blackwood to search for one of the keys. Dr. Williams and Lord Blackwood continued their search in the area of Ottoman Syria. Eventually, the expeditionary force found what was suspected to be the first Key of Solomon in an abandoned, decrepit building suspected to be one of warehouses inside Solomon’s Temple. Suffice to say, the recovery of the key was a partial success. Even though Lord Blackwood and Dr. Wiliams, as well as members of the expeditionary force left the building unscattered, testimonies from Dr. Williams stated that they barely escaped from the building. According to the testimony, the retrieval of the key caused an immense shock across the building, causing it to begin to fall apart and collapse on their feet. Dr. Williams also stated that the moment he touched the Key of Solomon, he felt an immense backlash that he described as similar to what is currently known as an Akiva backlash when interacting with powerful thaumaturgic objects without caution. After leaving the remains of the temple, Lord Blackwood and Dr. Williams returned to their headquarters in Jerusalem, to assist both Dr. Williams and the rest of the expeditionary force to recover in the medical wing’s, as well as to meet with a representative of the Majesty Foundation to report on the situation. Despite complains by Lord Blackwood, they decided to report their findings to the representative of the Crown in anomalous matters, and showing the recovered Key of Solomon. It was at that moment when meeting with the representative, that another Akiva radiation backlash occurred, hitting all four men and nearby members of the expeditionary force, as well as causing immense infrastructural damage to the headquarters and surrounding areas. The event was covered up as an accidental explosion of dynamite from the expeditionary forces warehouse, and the people nearby who were around the event and saw it disappeared and were promptly executed. Although the leaders of the expeditionary force and the representatives survived, this caused an immense fear and diplomatic concern by both representatives of the danger of the artifact. The representatives would report the situation to their respective leaders, causing a worldwide, hidden scandal of an artifact that proved the existence of SCP-8343 – but also raising the question of SCP-8343’s necessity of its existence, as well as its relationship with the anomalous. This diplomatic scandal would spread widely through occult societies and paranormal research organizations, which would take advantage of the situation by feeding into the fear of world governments. Addendum 8343.2: World Paranormal Congress of 1876 Photograph of the representatives in the first meeting of the World Paranormal Congress in The Hague (1876) The scandal of the confirmation of the existence of SCP-8343 caused a widespread commotion across the occult community, where most world governments began to wonder if their power was secured after knowing that the existence of such a powerful being as SCP-8343 could subject its will onto their authority. This also caused the resurgence of multiple parascientific institutions and occult societies to consider the option of terminating SCP-8343. As such, after a meeting between the most powerful paranormal, government agencies, it was a decided that a worldwide convention between the most influential occult groups should be organized to discuss the existence of SCP-8343 and the decision that humanity will take over its existence. This convention was named the World Paranormal Congress, and it was to be held in The Hague on May 5, 1876. Approximately, across a hundred organizations assisted the congress, ranging from government agencies, to private corporations, parascientific research institutes, and occult societies, met to discuss the state of SCP-8343 and what humanity's decision on SCP-8343 would be. A transcript of the first meeting in the World Paranormal Congress is attached below: Open Transcript of the First Session of the World Paranormal Congress Close Transcript of the First Session of the World Paranormal Congress <First Session of the World Paranormal Congress> <Begin Log> In the center of the large semicircular desk that holds the most important paranormal agencies of the world, the Chairman of the Committee for the World Paranormal Congress stands up — General Louis Petain holds a wooden hammer, and bangs it the desk. He calls the attention of the seated attendants from multiple parascientific institutions and occult societies, and speaks. Chairman Petain: By the will of the Committee of the World Paranormal Congress, I hereby declare, in today, the Fifth of the month of May, of the year 1876, declare the start of the first — and hopefully last — World Paranormal Congress. A series of applause start at the podium, and Chairman Petain asks again for silence. Chairman Petain: We are here today to discuss a most pressing matter, one that is not only of concern to us, the ones in charge of protecting our nations and our peoples from the mysteries of the unknown — but of human civilization itself. We're here to discuss the following topic: the confirmation of the existence of God, and our next course of action — for or against Him. Chairman Petain: Because I do not see myself as qualified to speak of this topic, I will ask for the man in representation of the expeditionary force that discovered the artifact that led to this discovery, to stand up and come up here to where I am speaking. Doctor Frederick Williams, if you would do the honors. From the seats, Dr. Williams stands up and walks down from the rows of seats as he is applauded. He arrives at the podium, and shakes hands with Chairman Petain, before taking the microphone. Dr. Williams: I want to thank the efforts of Chairman Petain and the rest of the Committee for allowing me to participate in this historical date. I also want to apologize that my companion, Lord Blackwood, could not accompany us today. He's still in recovery, but he will be informed of the progress we will do in these meetings. Dr. Williams: Now, after these formalities, I know that everyone here knows why we are here — and how we came here, most importantly. Across the seats, the representatives nod and hush in agreement. Dr. Williams nods in satisfaction. Dr. Williams: Good, then you know that the artifact we're here to talk about is a key from Solomon's Temple, and that this key — if the records from the wise king suggest — will allow us to bend the nature of thaumaturgy. Lord Blackwood and our researchers are also thinking that maybe this could extend to the entirety of the anomalous itself. Even more, if all of this proves correct, then it is possible that we may do something that our ancestors have tried and failed: to summon God. Immediately, loud shouts and comments burst throughout the seats, as the men of the committee order to remain silent. Dr. Williams slowly raises his hand, and everyone immediately stops. Dr. Williams: Thank you. Again, these ideas are just that, ideas. Mere hypotheses that our team have come up, that are up for debate and testing. I know that the idea of summoning God and meeting him is quite impressive. Some may even say it's impossible! But that's what the texts of King Solomon suggest. Suddenly, a man wearing Catholic robes raises his hand, and Dr. Williams allows him to speak. Cardinal Bonaventura: Greetings, my brother. I am Cardinal Alejandro Bonaventura, representing the interests of the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church, and part of the Confraternity of Saint George's Knights. I pray for the safe and healthy recovery of your colleague, Lord Blackwood. Dr. Williams: Thank you very much, Mr. Cardinal. Cardinal Bonaventura: However, as much as the Church is impressed by your findings, the Pope decreets that whatever artifact that you and your men possess holds something incorrect. Dr. Williams: And that would be? Cardinal Bonaventura: The idea that that key may summon God. If it can, then the Pope and the Church does not believe that whatever will be summoned will be God. Before Dr. Williams can reply, a voice raises from a row below the Cardinal. A young man sitting in plain dressing clothes, with a well-groomed beard and round glasses speaks up. Voice: And why would that be? Cardinal Bonaventura looks at the man. Cardinal Bonaventura: Science — and to an extension thaumaturgy — gives us power over nature; but to think that we can measure God, that we can control God to our will and desire, is not a blasphemous thought but philosophically contradictory. A being of incomprehensible intelligence, incomprehensible strength, and incomprehensible power — to be diminished by just a mere key? That would not be God, and it cannot be God. The voice sighs, picking up his glasses and wiping them. Voice: Is that so? Well, the King of Judea says otherwise. Despite his beliefs, I think we can agree that he was leagues far wiser and intelligent than the both of us combined. If he held such great knowledge of all that we've studied, who can deny him that he was wrong? I doubt we can. Cardinal Bonaventura: Solomon was a wise man and a great king, until he was consumed by his own pride and short-sightedness. He may have been knowledgeable, but to believe that he had an artifact that could summon God and bend his will over God's is something that I have a hard time believing in. The man snorts, and puts back his glasses. Voice: It's hard for you to believe that we can summon God, but easy to believe that a powerful tyrant is capable of benevolence and love to our species? You believers come with new arguments each day. Cardinal Bonaventura: Excuse me, who exactly are you? Professor Borchardt: I am Professor Siegfried Borchardt, of the Faculty of Thaumaturgy from the International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumotology. However, I come here in representation of an occult society: the Society of the Godless. Cardinal Bonaventura: …That German cabal. Lt. Colonel Bowe: Order! Gentlemen, both of you settle down. We’re not here to discuss religious matters, we’re here to discuss a problem. Professor Borchardt: Mr. Bowe, I’m afraid this is a religious matter too. It’s no wonder why the great three branches are present here today. After all, they’re extremely interested in vouching for their lord instead of helping humanity, as usual. Cardinal Bonaventura: You are talking of the Lord as if he has caused us harm, when all we’ve done is poking with the power of at most, a powerful entity – at worst, a false god. Whatever the professor and Lord Blackwood discovered, that is not God! Professor Borchardt: Then let me ask you this, how do you know it isn't god? What else could it possibly be? A being of such power, with its artifacts kept by King Solomon – the descendant of David – inside the remains of his lost temple. Why would he be interested in hiding those artifacts, if not to protect God? Cardinal Bonaventura: I don’t know what King Solomon may have hidden them, but knowing the circumstances of the discovery, it must be important. The last thing we should do is try to play god with that key – and the keys that we will find, if we continue to pursue them. Dr. Williams coughs purposely, attracting the attention of the public. Dr. Williams: If I may continue, Cardinal, where you left off. I know that Chairman Petain brought you hear because of this discovery – and that he’s absolutely concerned, as are our government representatives. But, at the moment, there’s not much we can do – both for you, Cardinal, and Mr. Borchardt. Dr. Williams: What we’re here to do is to inform you, with the purpose of being in the same page. Lord Blackwood and our team of researchers are continuing to research what we call the First Key of Solomon – considering it we found inside the great temple. But, we’re still ignorant of the functionings of the key. That’s why, I ask from all of you, to wait. We will meet again, when we have done progress, and we will inform all of you when we decipher the first key. Dr. Williams: As for now, that is all I have to say. Are there any questions? Nobody answers, and Dr. Williams nods. He steps down and hands the speaker to Chairman Petain. Chairman Petain: Without any further questions, on the fifth of may of eighteen seventy-eight, we dismiss the first session of the World Paranormal Congress. <End Log> After the end of the first meeting, the representatives who assisted the congress were induced into a collective hallfucination during their sleep. Inside the dream, each representative stated to see SCP-8343 communicating with them, and confirmed that SCP-8343 was who it was suspected to be. Telegrams sent to the headquarters of the committee from secular representatives were the vast majority of these supporters that SCP-8343 was God, while religious representatives from the mainline Abrahamic denominations continued to postulate the idea that SCP-8343 was another type of entity or a false god. Immediately, all of these representatives demanded the reschedule of the next meeting to move it as soon as possible. However, Chairman Petain informed that the original date scheduled for the next meeting would stay the same, as to not pressure Dr. Williams and Lord Blackwood's research team to speed up the research into SCP-3457-B1. The revelation caught the attention of more secret societies that had not yet joined to congress to apply, resulting in the approval of all the volunteers. Open Transcript of the Second Session of the World Paranormal Congress Close Transcript of the Second Session of the World Paranormal Congress <Second Session of the World Paranormal Congress> <Begin Log> Photograph of Secretary H.G. Heckley opening the second session of the World Paranormal Congress (1876). Secretary H.G. Heckley stands up, representative of Her Majesty’s Foundation for the Studies of Curiosities and Phantasmagoria, stumbles on her words. He tries to call for order in the loud chamber, interrupted by the loud debating and shouting between the representatives of the congress. Secretary Heckley: Order, order! By the order of Her Majesty Victoria, we ask for order! Suddenly, Professor Borchardt stands up and whistles the rhythm of an old German folk song, causing the shouting to slowly dwindle as the representatives look confusedly at each other. Professor Borchardt looks back at Secretary Heckley. Professor Borchardt: You’re quite welcome, Mr. Secretary. Professor Borchardt sits down as Secretary Heckley rasps his throat. Secretary Heckley: Thank you. Now, we can actually begin the second session of this congress. Everyone, settle down again! We know what your dreams showed, we all saw them! Grand Master Luhan speaks from his seat, screaming. Grand Master Luhan: It is our architect, he has communicated with us! Cardinal Bonaventura: Architect or not, that’s not God! I know it isn’t, the representative of the Orthodox Church knows that too, and who knows how many more Protestant cardinals I have met today say the same thing! That is not our Lord! Lt. Colonel Henry Bowe, representative of the American Secure Containment Initiative, stands up and shouts. Lt. Colonel Bowe: All of you, shut up! Dr. Williams rasps his throat lightly, and his voice deppens from normally. Dr. Williams: Please, do settle down – I suppose you do not want Professor Borchardt to repeat what he said. Unknowingly, Grand Master Luhan and Cardinal Bonaventura fall silent, each looking at each other in confusion. Secretary Heckley gives the word to Dr. Williams, and he walks down the podium and into the center of the rows, and begins to speak. Dr. Williams: I’m sorry to keep all of you waiting, but Lord Blackwood and our team had to finish researching the key. We could not take any chances, especially for the circumstances of this key, as well as the recent events. So, Lord Blackwood and I made sure to present to all of you our most recent discoveries. Lord Blackwood? Lord Blackwood: Why certainly, my dear friend! Lord Blackwood enthusiastically stands up from one of the seats at the top of the rows, surprising multiple representatives as he walks down from the rows to the center. Lord Blackwood: The discovery of the Key of Solomon. No, I am absolutely mistaken, the First Key of Solomon. Oh, I’m truly saddened that none of you were there that day. Many brave gentlemen died that day to recover that key, it was a sad consequence of our desire to explore that monument buried by time. Isn’t that right, Dr. Williams? Dr. Williams: Frederick, if you may, Lord Blackwood. And certainly, what happened was a shameful tragedy. Lord Blackwood chuckles as he finally arrives at the center of rows, standing alongside Dr. Williams. Lord Blackwood: If you continue to call me Lord Blackwood, then I must continue to call you for your academic position, Dr. Williams. Now that we're here, I suppose we can finally present to you the key. The congress erupts in whispers between representatives, as Lord Blackwood commands for his research team to come in. They push a cart with a box on top of it, and leave it at the center of the floor in front of Dr. Williams and Lord Blackwood as they step back. Lord Blackwood: We believed that we would spend some months trying to decipher how to use this key, but we faded into a wall with two problems: the first, was the deadline for the following congress, making us rush the research into SCP-8343 – even with the original date despite your petitions to move it sooner; the second, was that this key has become absolutely useless. The representatives stand up from their seats and yell at Lord Blackwood and Dr. Williams. Grand Master Luhan: What did you do to the Architect?! Now, after seeing our desperation to interact with him, he has sealed himself away from us. The opportunity to discover the mysteries of life and the universe have been interrupted by your mendling! Noviciate Weishaupt II: And you think he would’ve given us the chance?! It was obvious that from our dreams, he was drunk in madness and jealousy for what we had accomplished. He sees us as our rivals! Grand Master Luhan to face against Noviciate Adam Weishaupt II, of the Bavarian Illuminati, wearing a mask of the Owl of Minerva on his face. Grand Master Luhan: Don’t you even dare to speak, you’re the son of an ignoramus who couldn’t see the light of the Grand Architect, and started his own knockoff that you inherited. Noviciate Weishaupt II: You shut your mouth about Founder Weishaupt! Dr. Williams: Everyone, please remain silent. I’m sure that some of you are incredibly powerful thaumaturges, correct? We’re here to find someone who will volunteer to help us unseal the box that contains the ring. The discussion stops as the representatives look back at Dr. Williams, finally catching their attention. Dr. Williams: And you heard me right: a ring. It’s not precisely a key, and from what we’ve read, neither are the rest of the remaining keys of the King. From our translations of Old Hebrew, we found that this ring may allow us a brief summoning of God and interact with him. Cardinal Bonaventura: That’s impossible! Dr. Williams: Maybe, maybe not. We will have to find out, of course. That is the reason all of you are here: to clear your doubts. Many of you have different interests and desires of what to do with God, but we first need to resolve our questions and arrive at clear answers. With that fulfilled, we can take the next step as to what to do with him. Lord Blackwood: Like my good friend said, we will need your help. We are archeologists and scientists, but we’re not thaumaturgists. Luckily, we know that some of you are, and very powerful indeed. What we need you to do is draw the Seal of Solomon, with each thaumaturge standing at each point of the seal, with the box in the middle. We will give you further instructions once people volunteer – five of you, exactly. May any of you be interested? Professor Borchardt: I volunteer. Professor Borchardt stands up from his seat and walks down the stairs as other representatives whisper. Grand Master Luhan: I do too! Noviciate Weishaupt II stands up too as he follows Grand Master Luhan, and multiple other representatives begin to volunteer. Dr. Williams: The lady in the front row, what’s your name and society? Madame Blavatsky: Madame Helena Blavatsky, of the Theosophical Society. Dr. Williams: If you will, ma’am. Lord Blackwood: The gentleman in the back – the one chuckling –, what’s your name and society? Professor Simeon: I’m sorry, Lord Blackwood. My name is Professor Magnus Simeon, and the actual representative of the International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumatology. Lord Blackwood: Delightful, a noteworthy scholar! Do you know Professor Borchardt? Professor Borchardt: We know each other very well. Professor Simeon: Indeed, we do! We teach in the same faculty, just with different subjects for our students and practitioners. Professor Simeon steps down the podium, standing alongside the rest of the representatives. Dr. Williams and Lord Blackwood explain the procedure to the thaumaturges, and the research team and thaumaturges begin. Lord Blackwood commands the assistant research of the team to put the box in the middle of the floor, as the thaumaturges begin to draw the Seal of Solomon on the floor. Finishing with the Seal, each thaumaturge stand at each point of the seal. Dr. Williams: Now, I will begin the chant, and you must follow along. If this works, the box will open and one of the thaumaturges – the most powerful one – will need to wear the ring and end the chant to summon God. If I may ask Professor Simeon, who exactly is– Professor Borchardt: I will do it. Dr. Williams stares skeptically at Professor Borchardt, and turns to Professor Simeon. Professor Simeon: Let him do it. Lord Blackwood: It’s settled then! Gentlemen of the research team, do step back. Dr. Williams, please take good care of yourself as you lead these talentful men – and lady. Now, you may commence. The research team step back with Lord Blackwood standing in front of them, as they and the rest of the congress stare at the group of thaumaturges. Dr. Williams sighs, and he signs the first verse of the chant – the thaumaturges follow. They continue to chant, and the box begins to shake, with the lines of the Seal of Solomon begins to bright up in a cerulean light, which slowly begins to morph into multiple colors. Dr. Williams and the thaumaturges move to the second verse, and the box violently begins to shake from the inside – with a bright, intense glow appearing from the edge of the box. The congressmen and members of the committee are caught in a trance staring at the ritual. Dr. Williams and the thaumaturges repeat the chorus, and the box clangs violently from inside, with the lights inside the room dwindling for a minute before lighting up again. Dr. Williams and the thaumaturges arrive to the last verse, their initial worries calmly dwindled by the chanting despite the shaking of the room and the lights turning on and off. Dr. Williams arrives to the last line of the verse. Dr. Williams: And we ask of you, thy Lord of the Universe, to allow your perfection to show unto us. The thaumaturges: And we ask of you, thy Lord of the Universe, to allow your perfection to show– Suddenly, the box pops open with a golden light, pushing back the thaumaturges and suddenly blinding the rest of the congressmen. The box begins to show a gigantic, enlightened humanoid wearing the First Key of Solomon in what seems to be its fingers. Faceless, the composition of the humanoid seems to be composed of the darkness of the universe, which is surrounded by its skin composed of light. The windows across the room break violently, its shards falling to the floor. The lights inside the room explode, leaving the room in complete darkness with the exception of the light coming from SCP-8343. The representatives and tha thaumaturges who continue to see despite the blindful light stare at SCP-8343 in awe. Cardinal Bonaventura yells from the background. Cardinal Bonaventura: W-What are you?! SCP-8343 looks around, and finds Cardinal Bonaventura. Cardinal Bonaventura stares at SCP-8343, his eyes reflecting the light coming from SCP-8343. SCP-8343 moves slowly, as if exasperating, and speaks up. SCP-8343: I AM THAT I AM. The room of the Congress shakes violently again, with the light coming from SCP-8343 increasing dramatically and engulfing the entirety of the room of the Congress. SCP-8343 continues to speak. SCP-8343: I AM THE CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE. THE DESIGNER OF THIS CLOCKWORK. AND THE ONE WHO KEEPS THE UNIVERSE IN BALANCE. SCP-8343: I DO NOT COME HERE TO HARM YOU. I COME HERE TO WARN YOU. YOU MUST NOT INTERFERE WITH THE BALANCE. SCP-8343: I KNOW HOW YOU ARE, AND I KNOW WHAT YOU WILL DO. I AM HERE TO SHARE YOU SOME WISDOM: DO NOT INTERFERE. I DO NOT WISH TO HARM YOU, BUT IF YOU CONTINUE TO PURSUE WHAT YOU WILL DO, THEN I WILL BE OBLIGATED TO FIGHT BACK. FOR YOUR SAKE, AND FOR THE SAKE OF THE UNI– SCP-8343 is interrupted as it is shot in the back of the head, it searches everywhere, until finding Lt. Colonel Bowe shooting at it in the face. Lt. Colonel Bowe: Stop the damn ritual. Better yet, kill that fucking thing! I hope you heard that it won’t doubt to kill us, so we shouldn’t doubt killing it too. Lt. Colonel Bowe continues to shoot at it, but his bullets are stopped in the middle of the air by SCP-8343, and fall back on the floor. Lt. Colonel Bowe spits at SCP-8343, with the spit passing through its body and hitting the wall – Lt. Colonel Bowe recharges his pistol. SCP-8343: I AM TELLING YOU, I DO NOT WANT TO. I AM WARNING YOU OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT. IF YOU PUSH ME, THEN I WILL HAVE TO DEFEND MYSELF – FOR THE SAKE OF THE BALAN– SCP-8343 is again interrupted after it is hit with a fire bolt, pushing it forward. SCP-8343 looks back, and is attacked again by a fire bolt from Professor Borchardt – who stares at SCP-8343 with rage in his eyes. Professor Borchardt: You heard the General, give god hell! Suddenly, the representatives and the men of the committee pull their arms and artifacts to face SCP-8343. Cardinal Bonaventura and other members of religious societies speak up. Cardinal Bonaventura: Stop it! Even if you think it is who it is, we can’t defeat it! Professor Borchardt looks back at Cardinal Bonaventura angrily, and yells. Professor Borchardt: Then you will let us kill every single one of us! What lives matter most right now: his or us? If you want to stand back, then stand back. Let others fight. Generals and congressmen fire at SCP-8343, most of their bullets being caught in the air before falling to the floor, with some of them hitting SCP-8343 and distracting it. Meanwhile, the rest of the thaumaturgists, alchemists, and occultists incite rituals and utilize their magical items to fight back at SCP-8343. SCP-8343 attempts to avoid getting hit, and at the same time avoids attacking the members of the congress. Suddenly, SCP-8343 expands throughout the room, backlashing the members of the congress and blinding them with its light. SCP-8343: I WARNED YOU. I ASKED YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE, BUT YOU DO NOT. YOU WILL CONTINUE? THEN I WILL MAKE SURE THE RITE OF SOLOMON IS NEVER COMPLETED. The light of SCP-8343 dwindles suddenly, with its humanoid form decreasing in size as it returns inside the box alongside the First Key of Solomon. Professor Borchardt yells, and runs toward the key. He pulls his wand, and chants, sending a big shock of Akiva energy – hitting the ring, causing it to fly across the room. SCP-8343 screams violently, shaking the room as it returns to the box, closing it with a lock. All of the representatives of the congress stand up in the darkness, with multiple of them summoning fire for light. Everyone remains quiet from the shock, until Cardinal Bonaventura speaks up. Cardinal Bonaventura: Do you see what we have caused?! Professor Borchardt looks for the key, and picks it up. The Ring of Solomon, which is currently located at Site-01. Professor Borchardt: We recovered the First Key. Cardinal Bonaventura: And for what?! That ring will be the start of the second cause of man’s downfall. We first rebelled against God when we took a bite from the tree and were casted out of Heaven, and now we will do it again by killing that thing. That ring is the representation of our pride! We need to get rid of it. Grand Master Luhan: You are an ignorant fool, blinded by your dogma, Cardinal. Don’t you see what we did? We controlled our artisan – if we find the rest of the keys, we may be able to study him and understand him! Cardinal Bonaventura: We didn’t control that thing, Grand Master. It simply allowed us to do so before it felt threatened and disappeared. We will end up killing ourselves by trying to find the rest of those keys before even summoning that thing again. Noviciate Weishaput II: Then what should we do then? Hide in our temples and churches and forget about it, or maybe we should pray to it and ask for its forgiveness. You heard what it said! Madame Blavatsky: We certainly did bring a lot of trouble to ourselves, and a bad image of us to Him. But, it’s not wrong to try to understand him. After all, he created us. Noviciate Weishaupt II: Did you even listen to what it said? Madame Blavatsky: Clearly, I did help to summon it after all. However, I find his reaction to be understandable. Whatever we do next, I suggest we do it peacefully. We shouldn’t try to antagonize Him, but try to understand him. And, it did seem it was worried about us and what we were doing. We’ll have to do this cautiously next time. Noviciate Weishaupt II: That light must have blinded you for you to say those things without sense, witch. What do you suggest we do next? A sacrifice? Use blood for the next ritual? Madame Blavatsky: Don’t you dare call me a witch – you are the one using an owl over your face. Noviciate Weishaupt II: It’s symbolic! The representatives begin to bicker and fight amongst themselves in the darkness, until the fire bolt of Professor Borchardt increases dramatically and lights up the room in the light of its red and orange colors. Professor Borchardt decrease the size of the fire, but continues to light it sufficiently. Professor Borchardt: This is the reason we can’t deal with anomalies. Cardinal Bonaventura: What do you mean? Professor Borchardt: The bickering, the debates, and the differences. Everyone is currently wondering what to do about God, just as we do about what to do with anomalies. At least the members of the committee have an idea, with the containment. But that’s not how it should be. Professor Borchardt: We’ve made great advances in the sciences, slowly answering the questions we didn’t know of and pushing the unknown into the field of the known. Our control over nature, thaumaturgy and the anomalous has increased but it seems it can never truly go away. Let me ask all of you: would you have preferred a world where we didn’t have to face the horrors of the unknown and the unexplainable every single day? The representatives are caught off guard, but all of them answer positively. Professor Borchardt: So do I. It’s like asking if things like poverty, disease, death, and tyranny should end. Everyone answers that they should, but nobody says anything about it. We continue to let people pick from trash to eat because they can’t afford food, causing them to get poison and die in the street in a painful death as corrupt leaders sits in their thrones. We’ve done wonders in arts, medicine, sciences, and knowledge – and we did this when the first man decided to not let fate dictate what it does, but let man take fate by its own hand. Professor Borchardt: So why shouldn’t we do the same with anomalies? Why shouldn’t we face the unknown and get rid of thing, as another fact of life we don’t need nor want? And why, then, should we not get rid of the first cause that brought the anomalous into our existence. Grand Master Luhan: Because it’s the work of the Grand Architect, it’s his will and we should understand it. It’s the law of life. Professor Borchardt: Well that law of life has brought us monsters, demons, golems, dark magicians, phenomena that break our scientific knowledge, and many more things. People barely sleep calmly at night because we are the ones protecting them, because we swore a duty to protect the normal world while we fight into the unknown. Professor Borchardt looks back at the members of the Committee, who are staring back at him. Professor Borchardt: You are the leaders of the world. Personally, even as an atheist, whether what we saw was God or not, it doesn’t matter. We have been confirmed that he keeps the so-called balance, even if it means our suffering. That thing is evil, and he has allowed for so many deaths to maintain that balance. I ask of you, please, to put an end to this topic. We need to band together to kill this dragon. Either we steal fire like Prometheus, or we let the darkness of this dragon consume us. It’s your choice. The members of the committee whisper to each other, and Secretary Heckley stands up. Secretary Heckley: By recommendation of Professor Borchardt, the congress has changed the focus of this discussion: from the confirmation of the existence of God, to the discussion of what we shall do with it. Meaning, we will debate – and vote – if we decide to execute it for crimes against nature and humanity, or we will let it live. The session is over. <End Log> After the result of the second session of the congress, a mass hysteria brew across the occult world due to the appearance and message from SCP-8343. For a moment, this causes a massive disincentive to continue the search for the rest of Solomon's Key and summon SCP-8343 with the Rite of Solomon. However, due to the efforts of the following leaders and organizations, the option for the neutralization of SCP-8343 remained as a prevalent option to deal with SCP-8343: Professor Siegfried Borchardt, from the Society of the Godless; Doctor James Siegel, from the Selena's Eye Society; Lt. Colonel Henry Bowe, from the American Secure Containment Initiative; Noviciate Adam Weishaupt II, from the Bavarian Illuminati. Meanwhile, the key leaders and organizations that decided to avoid the neutralization of SCP-8343 were the following: Cardinal Umberto Bonaventura, from the Cofraternity of Saint George's Knights; Professor Magnus Simeon, from the International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumatology; Gentleman Roland Beauregard, from The Humanist's Gentlemen; Grand Master Jacques Luhan, from the Freemasons. Despite the efforts of the previous leaders and their organizations, they were not able to stop the expansion of the possibility for mankind to neutralize SCP-8343. This was possible because of the efforts of Professor Siegfried Borchardt, who played into the fear and mass hysteria of the occult societies to rally them together and form a coalition block inside the congress to support the decision of neutralizing SCP-8343; at the same time, Lt. Colonel Bowe convinced the federal government through his leadership from the American Secure Containment Initiative to support the decision of neutralizing SCP-8343, on the basis as a threat to the national security7 of the United States. Finally, the last session of the World Paranormal Congress would end in January 11, 1876. An attached document of the session can be consulted below. Open Transcript of the Final Session of the World Paranormal Congress Close Transcript of the Final Session of the World Paranormal Congress <Last Session of the World Paranormal Congress> <Begin Log> Photograph with all the representatives from occult organizations in the last meeting of the Congress of The Hague (1876). The congress is boisterous, with open discussions among the members of the committee and the seated representatives. Finally, it is stopped after Secretary Heckley stands up and orders the congress to stop talking. Secretary Heckley: We’re now opening the final session of the World Paranormal Congress, after almost half a year since the discovery of God. Today, the election will begin. The procedure will be simple: we will ask those who are for the execution of God, and all those in favor will raise their hands; then, we’ll move to those who are against his execution, and those will also raise their hands. Secretary Heckley looks around him, gazing intently at all the representatives of the congress. Secretary Heckley: Did we make ourselves clear? The representatives agree in unison. Secretary Heckley: Splendid. But before we do that, we will let a member represent the opinion of each side to stand up in front of you, and deliver a speech. It’ll be a battle of rhetoric, so you must have a spoken a great man that represent your ideals and goals. For those who are in favor of the execution, your representative may step up. Secretary Heckley stands down from the podium, and Professor Borchardt stands from his seat, walking to the podium. In the background, his supporters cheer for him as his critics whisper and demean him. Professor Borchardt stands in front of them, and asks for silence. Professor Borchardt: It is a known fact that man has always been a challenging animal. Ever since we refused to freeze in the Ice Age, man has always found itself fighting against something: be it forces of nature, other predators, his own brothers and sisters, or even gods. Today, that nature of man as this animal who refuses to back down and always strike comes back to show itself. Professor Borchardt: But instead of fighting because of petty reasons, we fight for the reason we even do so in the first place: survival. Our first ancestors fought for the survival of their family and clan, and now we fight for the survival of our species. And we fight for the survival of our species, so that one day we may see ourselves free from our shackles. Professor Borchardt: Those shackles have been many things: war, disease, and tyranny. But most importantly, man has always challenged and fought against its biggest fear: the unknown. Our world is fantastical, but man even more so. Today, we’re at a crossroads, and we’re facing the biggest challenge and the highest representation of the one thing we can never truly understand: God. Professor Borchardt: Today, we stand against the being that even lets all of those shackles we’re chained to every day of our lives exist. Today, we stand against the greatest tyrant of them all: the one who created our universe, and the one who, supposedly in all his wisdom and benevolence, has allowed a universe full of evil to consume us with its wrath. That caused that our ancestors hid for centuries inside of caves because of their fear to step outside into the unknown. Professor Borchardt: But our ancestors only survived once they decided to venture into the unknown – but that venture wasn’t just to be engulfed into its darkness, but to shine that unknown world with the light of our intelligence and reason. To fight against dragons and monsters, which weren’t dragons and monsters in the first place – and when we finally understood, we could understand and slay them. Professor Borchardt: Despite that, it seems the universe demands that we always face unknown things, even if we have advanced in the realm of knowledge. Indeed, it seems the universe wants to push us back into the caves of our ancestors and not face against its tyranny. And the reason behind that is because of the man in the skies forcing its twisted worldview unto us. Professor Borchardt: So should we bow, should we hang our heads and nod happily for his tyranny? I have seen many people die, many fall into madness because of their attempts to understand the universe only to be horrified by their inability to understand. Now, we’re given a chance: a chance to change the world to our desire, to bring a world to our own image and desire, to the one that the God-Tyrant could ever dream of. Professor Borchardt: And so I want to remind every single one of you facing me today: it doesn’t matter what you believe in, because at the end of the day, we will all die. But the question should be: should we die because of our free will, in a world where we choose our fate, instead of our fate being dictated by a tyrant? If you want an answer for the latter, I respond: absolutely yes. Professor Borchardt: Humanity has endured enough with the strange, with the incomprehensible, with the unknown. We’re at a crossroads, and with the ability to start a new age: an age where fantasy and magic will be buried by science and reason, where we won’t be subjected by the forces of the anomalous, but by controlling the forces of nature to humanity’s will. And to do that, we must out the tyrant, like our French compatriots did with their tyrant king just a century ago. Professor Borchardt: Today, let us vote. Let us vote for a new era: an era where mankind will chose their destiny, to take hold of his destiny and oust the superstitions that bind us. Today let us vote for that freedom, by choosing to free ourselves from the greatest of tyrants of them all: God! The supportive members of Professor Borchardt stand from their seats, applauding and cheering to Professor Borchardt, as well as some chairmen of the committee. Professor Borchardt bows and thanks the public, and steps down from the podium. Secretary Heckley stands up and takes the lead. Secretary Heckley: If there aren't any questions, we may continue: next, the representative for those against the execution of God, we have Professor Magnus Simeon of the International Center for the Study of Unified Thaumatology. Professor Simeon stands up, bowing and thanking his supporters as he walks down, shaking hands with some of them. He walks to the podium and shakes hands with Secretary Heckley, before been given the podium to himself. Professor Simeon: Originally, Cardinal Bonaventura was planned to stand where I'm standing. After some discussion, he decided that I'd be the best candidate: given that I am a professor who teaches magic to his student, I was appointed as the best qualified for it. Professor Simeon: Of course, personally I do not want to kill God because it'll make me lose my job! Despite the complaints by some members of the congress, several chuckle at Professor Simeon's remark. Professor Simeon: But the dilemma of this decision is far more important than my work: what we'll chose today is the most important decision that mankind will make for his future. What Professor Borchardt and his supporters have done is sell you a preposterous idea, that is that we have the capability of killing God. Professor Simeon: Think that for a moment. Killing God. And we're not talking about a pagan deity, we're talking about the creator of the universe — the all-knowing and all-powerful, that created us from clay and brought us to life. Even if we decide unanimously that we will kill God, supposedly for our survival, I believe we're doing the opposite: committing suicide. Members of the congress begin to shout at Professor Simeon in protest. Professor Simeon: What we're doing is exactly what Lucifer did, and he was once one of the most powerful angels of God. Now, he's burning in the deepest of hell. Supposedly, of course. I wouldn't know. The point is that his rebellion is what caused his downfall. If one of God's most powerful angels rose against him and failed, what can we expect from us? Noviciate Weishaupt II: That's your point? That we sit by and let him continue ravage ourselves because we should?! Professor Simeon: We either pretend that this never happen and continue with our lives, or go against him and cause civilizational suicide because we tried to defy him. Is it really worth to supposedly free humanity from the anomalous, from the unknown, just to make humanity suffer because we're going to force them to fight God? It seems that none of you understand that the anomalous is a fact of life, and we can't do anything about it. Doctor Aaron Siegel raises his hand, and Professor Simeon allows him to speak. Doctor Siegel: But we have done many things to… fight the anomalous. We've developed the scientific method, established laws of nature, increased our understanding and knowledge. Slowly, our capacity to get rid of the unknown has increased by the day. Even our knowledge of the anomalous has increased compared to just a century. If our ancestors had accepted to be eaten by the apex predators of the past, none of us would be here. Professor Simeon: They fought for survival, we're fighting because we're deluding ourselves to believe we can kill The One who created us. Doctor Siegel: And what's the difference? After all, he did threaten us. Professor Simeon: Because we summoned him and attacked him. Noviciate Weishaupt II: Only because he threatened us first, and blew up the building of our brothers! Is that not enough of a preemptive strike to you? Several members of the congress agree. Professor Simeon: I-I mean, it did, but we were meddling with his authority. Professor Borchardt speaks up. Professor Borchardt: You're still arguing for complacency, and using his authority as an excuse. An authority that he never gained, nor asked us for — but merely took, and asked us to obey. Professor Simeon: Wouldn't you do the same, Siegfried? Professor Borchardt: No, because I am not God, but a man. Just like you, and just like the rest of the people sitting here. Professor Borchardt stares at him, and then moves to the audience. Professor Simeon: It still does not change the fact that we're committing suicide with trying this! We'll kill ourselves doing so. Doctor Siegel: And continue to die because of monsters? To kill ourselves with sorcery? To live in fear, and without the ability to comprehend our world? Ludicrous, professor. Professor Borchardt: And if I may continue with what Dr. Siegel said, you're not right about our ancestors fighting for surival. They sure did, but don't you think someone of the cavemen also suggested that stepping out and fight for good was also suicide, and that it was best to remain in the cave? They had a world out there, right for the taking. But it was because of men like us, without a reason to bow to the dragons outside the cave and their rule that they not only survived — but thrive. Professor Simeon: But— Professor Borchardt turns around, and interrupts Professor Simeon. Professor Borchardt: Everyone, listen! You are all afraid of what may come, but there is no reason to continue with this charade: we do not need magic, and I say it as a thaumaturgist myself. We do not need the paranormal, and we certainly do not need a tyrant in the sky telling us what to do. We can follows the footsteps of our ancestors, and leave the cave — or remain in the cave, wait for our own fire to dwindle in the darkness, and freeze and starve. Both choices lead to death, but one will be a death we chose for ourselves. Professor Borchardt: And if we win, we will gain the most precious treasure of them all, better than any riches: our freedom. Professor Borchardt turns around, and walks down the podium where Professor Simeon is standing. Professor Borchardt: And it's an outrage that you are using the legacy of our ancestors, who because of them we even live, to justify the existence of the God-Tyrant. And unless you have a good reason, a valid reason to not execute the man behind our woes, then I suggest you step down. Professor Simeon turns around everywhere, and makes eye contact with Secretary Heckley, who looks above his glasses. Secretary Heckley: Would you happen to have another argument, Professor? Professor Simeon looks down at the floor, and shakes his head. Secretary Heckley asks him to stand down of the podium, and Professor Simeon walks to his seat. He is stared with madness by his supporters. Secretary Heckley: Ladies and gentlemen of the congress, we have concluded our final speeches about this discussion. Now, we will vote. The members of the committee stand up, and Secretary Heckley adjusts his glasses, reading over a piece of paper. Secretary Heckley: By the will of humanity and the nations of the world, we stand here to judge God for crimes against humanity, as well as crimes against nature. For those who believe that God is guilty for these crimes, and should be executed with the death penalty, please raise your hands. Immediately, multiple representatives lift their hands up to vote. The members of the committee count each risen hand, murmuring under their breathes. Secretary Heckley orders the representatives to put their hands down. Secretary Heckley: For those who believe that God is not guilty of the previously mentioned crimes, and that his charges should be lifted as well as his execution, please raise your hands. Across the congress, multiple representatives raise their hands. However, it is clear that the representatives do not make a majority of the vote. Still, the members of the committee count their votes. Secretary Heckley orders the representatives to put their hands down. For a moment, everyone is silence, with the exception of the members consulting their votes. After agreeing with their votes, Secretary Heckley picks up his hammer and talks to the congress. Secretary Heckley: After a vote of fifty eight in favor, and thirty-three against, the jury finds God guilty for crimes against humanity and crimes against nature. His execution will be done as soon as possible. Secretary Heckley slams his hammer, and multiple members of the congress stand up in amazement and happiness, shaking hands and hugging each other. Secretary Heckley: Today, Janaury 11th, 1876, the last year of our Lord, we end the final session of the World Paranormal Congress. And in this day, we officially begin a war against God. Ladies and gentlemen of the congress, as of today, the Sixth Occult War has begun. <End Log> Addendum 8343.3: Overview of the Sixth Occult War The Sixth Occult War was an open, occult conflict between SCP-8343 and occult societies and government agencies representing humanity. The war lasted for six years from January 11, 1876 to November 11, 1882. There are three main stages of the war: the beginning of the war, lasting from 1876 to 1887, which was primarily the organization of the multiple forces to support their logistics and research outposts; the second stage, from 1877 to 1881, which was the search for multiple ancient objects that could assist in the neutralization of SCP-8343, as well as the creation of paraweaponry and first prototype of eigenweaponry to be used against SCP-8343; finally, the Battle of Mount Golgotha, that lasted from the morning of June 18, 1882 until the dawn of June 19, 1882 that resulted in the neutralization of SCP-8343. The main objective of the war, besides the neutralization of SCP-8343, was the recovery of the Seven Keys of Solomon to perform the Rite of Solomon, with the hope of summoning SCP-8343 and either changing the nature of thaumaturgy to cause it to become inoperable or, in the case that it could not be achieved, to diminish its accessibility and strength. The first stage war was not only the establishment of logistical lines and cooperative outposts and bases among the participative organizations, but also to report on any records they may have of the remaining six keys. Originally, it was planned to have Lord Theodore Blackwood lead the search and retrieval of the Seven Keys of Solomon. However, because of his disagreement with the neutralization of SCP-8343 and his own religious beliefs, Lord Theodore Blackwood refused to participate in the war and assist in waging it – causing a general outrage among the representatives. The following letter from Lord Theodore Blackwood to Dr. Frederick Williams elaborating on his reasons is attached below: To: Dr. Frederick Williams, FRS From: Lord Theodore Thomas Blackwood, CBE My dear friend Frederick, I’m sorry that I did not answer you sooner, but I had to process what I just saw in the congress that day. You know that I am an adventurous man, willing to take a leap into any situation that may face myself and triumph above it. But the situation with the Ring of Solomon and our summoning of the Almighty, I have to decline. You know, my dear friend, that I am a deeply religious man – and a proud member of the Church of England. Oh, ever since I was a young boy, and I have never had a doubt about our Lord’s existence. But when you told me of the wise man that was King Solomon, and the old records that you found about his ring and lost temple, you awakened that my old childhood amusement with the old monarch. I seriously hoped that the discovery of this ring would be absolute proof that our Lord’s existence would not be questioned. But I’m saddened to know that our discovery will result in his potential execution. Frankly, I cannot allow myself to participate. I’ve reflected, and realized that my own desire to bring His existence to the occult world will result in his death, has sickened me. I cannot participate, my dear friend. I am guilty, and my hands will be spilled with the blood of Christ again. I have become a second Judas by handing my Lord onto man, not knowing that they would not react amicably. I can only hope that I will be forgiven, and any of us who have participated, will be too. Once I finish reflecting spiritually, I will avoid any information about the war. I am preparing multiple trips for the following years, and one of them includes trying to climb to the summit of Mt. Everest. I cannot stop them from doing so, but you can. You are the scientist, after all. Sincerely, your dear friend, Lord Theodore Blackwood Because of this, it was decided that the leader of the main expeditionary force would be Dr. Frederick Williams, with the assistance of multiple occult societies, world governments, and research institutions. With the logistics finally established, the first stage of war, which was mostly bloodless, was concluded and the second stage of the war began. The second stage lasted from 1877 to 1881 was the start of the recovery for the remaining Keys of Solomon, as well as the construction of paraweaponry and eigenweaponry to be used to assist in the neutralization of SCP-8343. As government agencies and research institutions began the research of Hume, Akiva, and EVE radiations to be utilized as paraweaponry capable of being utilized to strike SCP-8343, occult societies were occupied in the search of the Keys of Solomon. One of the first rings to be successfully recovered was from the city of Prague, after the Bavarian Illuminati found old documents from Kabbalistic Jewish archives of one of the Keys of Solomon. However, this resulted in multiple casualties by the Illuminati from Operation Prague Kabbalist, which had to be neutralized and returned to its storage of origin. It was at this second stage that the involvement of SCP-8343 in Earth to tamper against the recovery of humanity, by either psychically and psychologically manipulating individuals and organizations who opposed the decision voted by the World Paranormal Congress, as well the continuous encouragement of the creation and manufacturing of conventional weaponry instead of the manufacturing of paraweaponry and recovery of thaumaturgical items and objects. This discouragement by SCP-8343 only pushed forward the search for remaining Keys and the anomalous objects across the world, as world governments continued to fund and assist occult societies in their mission. SCP-8343 also combated back against these attempts, by utilizing multiple anomalous beings and buildings which were searched by these teams against them, which included but were not limited to: Photo of the Holy Lance leaked to the SCP Foundation by an unknown source, with its location remaining unknown8. Reconstructed, aggressive skeletons from the Catacombs of Paris when a search team of the Estate noir entered the catacombs to encounter anomalous paths to improve the logistical lines between their allies. The loss of an Abnormality Institute search party in Beijing after searching for the Dragon Brooch of Xia9, which was later retrieved after a reinforced search party to recover the previous party and the brooch – in which they had to fight against the ghosts of the guardsmen that protected the brooch, reawakened by orders of SCP-8343. An immense diplomatic conflict between the allies and the Confraternity of Saint George’s Knights, backed by the Vatican and multiple branches from Catholic countries, once the Ancient Order of the Gormogons stole the Lance of Longinus10 from the vaults of the Vatican. Because of this, the Vatican declared war on the allied nations and societies, but did not side with SCP-8343 because of continuing to argue that SCP-8343 was not God. As factories and research facilities were propped across the United States, hostile and rebellious Native American Tribes began to support the war effort of SCP-8343 by weaponizing cryptids such as the Wendigo and forming alliances with SCP-1000 communities to protect their lands and their magical rituals and traditions. In the British Isles, Her Majesty’s Foundation for the Studies of Curiosities and Phantasmagoria sent forces to the island of Ireland as multiple Irish Druids and Fae rebels rose up in defiance of the war in support for SCP-8343’s survival, leading to open warfare across the massacre – as well as multiple massacres across the population and both armies. Across Europe, the Middle East, and Japanese-occupied territories, vast swarms of flies flew across farmlands, resulting in the death of crops and difficulting the alliance’s capacity to attend the food supplies for the different fronts – as well as causing famines across multiple countries, such as Russia and China. Many of these affected farmlands showed Satanic symbols, causing mass hysteria across rural cities. At the same time that the Russian government fought against the famine, reports from the Extraordinary Chancellery informed of ritualistic and suggested cannibalistic activity at the outsides of major population centers. The agents of Extraordinary Chancellery discovered the places of these rituals, as well as remaining thaumaturgical objects ingrained with human flesh. In the places where these secret rituals were found, it was reported that multiple human corpses have grown into the ground, with some villages either having an awful smell of putrefied flesh or completely burned down with no traces of its inhabitants left. Finally, at the later stage of the war before the Rite of Solomon was performed and the Seven Keys were finally recovered, an anomaly current known as SCP–9927-ARC appeared after a massive earthquake that shook the participating countries at the same time. This resulted in the eruption of volcanoes, the rupture of the earth, the swarming of entire populations, and small storms in European seas. SCP-9927-ARC continued to assist SCP-8343 by using nature against humanity, worsening famines and causing natural disasters. Reports by members of the alliance mentioned that the earth below them constantly whispered them in a female voice speaking Ancient Greek. Despite all these pushbacks and setbacks, the efforts of the alliance strengthened as they continued to prepare for humanity’s assault against SCP-8343. With the recovery of the Seventh Key of Solomon on March 24, 1881. It is informed that that day, the entire world shook and trembled, and that reports from psychic and magic-wielding humans heard the cries and screams of SCP-8343. Finally, preparing for the assault against SCP-8343 and the relocation of alliance’s forces in Golgotha, with the chosen date of April 3, 1881 to begin the neutralization of SCP-8343. Addendum 8343.4: Neutralization of SCP-8343 Photo of Nexus-34, showing its state after Operation Anthropos Heimarene in the modern day. The termination of SCP-8343 began on April 3, 1881, under the codename of Operation Anthropos Heimarene, in the [DATA EXPUNGED], currently classified as Nexus-3411. Operation Anthropos Heimarene was the final battle in the Sixth Occult War, where the belligerents of both sides fought against each other in an open battle instead of being scattered across the multiple fronts and waging war through sabotage, espionage and guerrilla warfare tactics across the world. The battle began at the dawn of April 3, 1881 and it ended with the destruction of SCP-8343 by the hands of Professor Siegfried Borchardt and his light infantry men squad of thaumaturgists, as well as with the capitulation and or escape of the allies of SCP-8343 by dusk of that same day. Operation Anthropos Heimarene was a partial success, leading to the recovery of multiple anomalous artifacts from the enemy side, as well as the capture of anomalous prisoners of war12. In the human alliance, the participants were the government agencies that sent their national armies that specialized in fighting against anomalous threats, occult societies that studied and recovered anomalous items and knowledge, as well as other organizations and or individuals who volunteered through the course of the war – such as was the case with the 'unknown cult'13 that terrorized the Russian population, or demons rallied by the Prince of Hell Beelzebub. Operation Anthropos Heimarene was led by multiple generals of multiple countries and their respective armies, as well as the leaders of occult societies with military capacities. The same can be said for the side which fought for the survival of SCP-8343. Besides SCP-8343 participating in the battle and casting its own forces to fight for itself, other groups and individuals interested in the conservation of SCP-8343 fought for it. This includes the previously mentioned SCP-9927-ARC, which was the de facto second-in-command of SCP-8343’s forces and the in-land commander, as well as the participation of multiple anomalous races such as the Children of the Night and the Faeries, as well as then unknown at the time anomalous organizations and individuals. Despite the success of Operation Anthropos Heimarene, the result did not go as planned from the beginning. For more information of the Operation Anthropos Heimarene, the development of the operation and its outcome, as well as the consequences of SCP-8343’s neutralization, please refer to the attached document below: Open Transcript of SCP-8343's Neutralization Close Transcript of SCP-8343's Neutralization <Transcript of Neutralization of SCP-8343> -- In the plains surrounding the mountain of Nexus-34, a mass army surrounds it, what they had called Golgotha. The members of the army talk with each other, as much as they are capable of understanding each other. Despite the army being united, they differ in their uniforms and the flags they wave. Some wear more modern military uniforms, while the more mystical figures wear robes or knight-like armors suitable for battle. The soldiers of the different armies finally finish digging up their trenches, digging dirt out of the Earth and piling it to form barriers for the upcoming battle. Meanwhile, the thaumaturgists utilize their magic to prepare potions and healing powders for the battle in their respective camps, chanting and stirring in their pots as the smoke of their brews fly in the air. In the center of it all, a large tent stands, waving no flag above it. Inside it, multiple figures of authority in their respective nations and societies discuss with each other. General Sir John Churchill informs that the Admiral of His Majesty’s Navy has arrived in the area, sailing across the island as he watches carefully for the start of the battle. Professor Borchardt: How much time do we need to wait for the artillery to arrive, General? Lt. Colonel Bowe: I was informed that the SHARP’s artillery were taking a while to come in. I don’t know why they were stopped at Liverpool, if the Parliament already knows we’re killing God. General Churchill: It’s all out protocol, Lieutenant Colonel. Even if we’re allies at this war, we still need to maintain control of what comes in and out. Lt. Colonel Bowe: Well, they should hurry, General. Killing God is no easy task, and it isn’t easier if our modified artillery doesn’t get right here in time when the forces of God are wiping us out in the battlefield. General Louis Petain speaks up. General Petain: But what matters the most is the commando led by Monsieur Borchardt, and the artifacts they will use to destroy God. Professor Borchardt: We still need the artillery – both for support against whatever he puts against us, and as a distraction while we try to destroy him. General Churchill: Well, it’ll take some more time. I think we can manage to fight off at the start – we do have a great amount of magicians– Professor Borchardt: Thaumaturgists. General Churchill: My apologies, Professor. Thaumaturgists who can fight against the forces that the Lord will send. I doubt he will concentrate his power on all of them, when He should focus on his own survival. Besides, gunfire also works killing paranormal beings too. Lt. Colonel Bowe: I can vouch for that with personal experience. Professor Borchardt thinks for a moment, then nods. Professor Borchardt: Then we should start the battle. Even if we cannot have everything at our disposal, we should not stop. We’ve fought for years to have this opportunity, so we should not waste any more time. That is, if anyone does not disagree. Lt. Colonel Bowe: I don’t. Field Marshal George of Wessin: I support. General Petain and General Churchill agree as well, with General Okakura Noritoshi nodding too. General Okakura: Admiral Tokugawa should arrive shortly too, with his own SHARP artillery for support. We also have those… thaumaturges of Shushu-In and Bureau of Omnyo outside for combat too. Professor Borchardt looks around, and the rest of the military officers and representatives agree on the matter. He nods, and finishes the session. All of them step outside, with Professor Borchardt taking the lead. All of the officers go to the respective camps and order their subordinates, picking up their firearms and beginning formations. Professor Borchardt arrives at his camp, with banners from the Society of the Godless and an unofficial ICSUT alongside it. Professor Simeon, wearing a modified, thaumaturgical-enhanced knight-like armor, stands up from his seat as he sharpens his sword. He walks to Professor Borchardt, and smiles. Professor Simeon: Siegfried, when do we attack? Professor Borchardt: Now. The plan stays as we planned it: we will cross the trenches’ limit, and perform the Rite where we said we would. We will cast god, and we’ll fight him. By the end of the day, he and his minions will be dead and humanity liberated. Professor Simeon smiles even more, then looks at Professor Borchardt confused. Professor Simeon: What about the artillery? I haven’t heard of its arrival. Professor Borchardt: It will arrive shortly, and we already have several SHARP’s mounted on the battleships of the British and Japanese. Besides, most of the legwork will be done by us and the common foot soldier. As long as the naval officers strike god and distract him to accomplish our task, the result will work. Professor Simeon: Siegfried, you devilish rogue. You’re the only man I know who wants to kill God from the bottom of his heart, as well as the only man who would try to strike him with a wooden stick and a stone! Professor Borchardt: Our ancestors killed many beasts and gods with sticks and stones. Now, if you will, let me put on my armor. Professor Simeon steps out of the way, and Borchardt enters the tent. He returns wearing the same knight-like armor, while holding a shedded weapon in a band across over his shoulder. Professor Borchardt: Tell our men in charge of the Rite to meet in front of the Headquarters, and inform the officers to bring their soldiers too. I have a speech to make. Professor Simeon nods and runs over to the nearby horse stable, mounting in a horse and riding to the rest of the camps. Professor Borchardt follows up, mounting his horse and riding to the Headquarters as Professor Simeon rallies the thaumaturgists and soldiers across multiple tents. Slowly, the officers, soldiers, and volunteers surround the tent headquarters as Professor Borchardt arrives in front of the tent’s entrance. The semicircle surrounding him gets bigger, with everyone looking above the shoulder at Borchardt wearing a knight armor and mounting a horse. Borchardt’s light infantry, consisting of a platoon from the Society of the Godless arrive as well, holding a banner of their logo as the soldiers and volunteers open up to lead them in and stand alongside Borchardt. Finally, Professor Simeon arrives, with another five members walking behind his horse. Professor Simeon mounts off his horse, and stands alongside the other five men in front of Borchardt. Professor Borchardt: Ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, soldiers and sorcerers – generals and occultists. Today is the day where our efforts as a race finally come to fulfillment. For six years, we fought and stood shoulder to shoulder to search, retrieve, and fight back against the powers of the unknown. Today, we not only fight the powers of the unknown – but we make sure to put them down, and stay down for good. Non-parahumans whistle and clap across the semicircle, with most thaumaturgists and occultists remaining silent. Professor Borchardt: For centuries, our ancestors have fought against the monsters they called gods, and worshiped them for their mercy. Of course, mercy was never handed to our ancestors, and so their destiny was decided by cold, cruel, and bloodlusting monsters and creatures that destroyed our ancestors. Unlike golden calfs, which were created by our hands yet we worshipped, we worshipped those tyrants that ruled over us. The crowd agrees. Professor Borchardt: But there were always wise and intelligent men who knew better – men like you and I. Who saw through the lies and made sure they would no longer suffer under their tyranny. We fought them, hunted them, and most importantly, studied them. Suddenly, the light striking from the sky was not a god anymore, but a mere meteorological phenomenon; fire was not a product of a titan brought to man, but a product of our own creativity; and the unknown was just a lack of understanding of our world, once we slowly filled and understood by the use of reason and science. Professor Borchardt raises his voice. Professor Borchardt: But even today, in a century of scientific advancement and understanding, the unknown does not wish to wither away! Its weak and decadent tyranny wishes to remain. If it wishes to continue to barely hold on to life, then we should gladly cut down the serpent’s head! The soldiers and volunteers begin to clap and roar at Borchardt, and his horse whins. Professor Borchardt: My brothers, I do not stand here to fight against your faith! I stand here because I want some of my people – you – free from the shackles of the unknown, from the incomprehensible, and from the magical. I have seen things – and many of you too – which you cannot tell to your loved ones, things you must hide so that others may live in the light of our sane world. Let me ask all of you, would you prefer to live in a sane and normal world? All the men surrounding Borchardt answer positively, clapping and roaring at him and his platoon. Professor Borchardt: So do I – even if I’m a thaumaturgist! Because I prefer to live a life where I don’t worry that my family lives with a monster underneath their beds, knowing that I am the only one who knows its existence. I’d rather have them and myself sleep in peace. And our ancestors thought the same, and that’s the reason why many cultures, from Asia to Europe, have stories of people slaying gods and dragons – because the death of a tyrant means the freedom of the people. And the greatest freedom we’ll ever achieve – from the tyranny of the unknown – will be achieved once we killed the tyrant who created our universe, the tyrant that lets lives be thrown to the slaughterhouse to the monsters we fight. Today, we will summon God one last time, and today we shall slay the dragon-tyrant that he is! Despite the cheers gradually diminishing, Professor Borchardt’s supporters take over the quiet passiveness of the absentees. Professor Borchardt: And I’m not the only one willing to sacrifice his powers for the greater good of humanity! In front of me stands the seven men who will help me summon god, and who don’t doubt to give their own powers for that same sacrifice. If you will, take a step when I mention you. Magnus Simeon of the ICSUT! Professor Simeon steps up, and Borchardt calls the second. Professor Borchardt: Then, we have the Lady of the Lake, a comrade of King Arthur who has survived the centuries: Nimue the Enchantress, if you will! A figure hidden under a hood steps up, and puts her hood down, revealing a woman underneath: Nimue-Lar. Professor Borchardt: From the lands of the Far East, and representative of the Abnormality Institute: Lü Dongbin! An old, Chinese man standing to the left of Borchardt steps up and bows to the public. Professor Borchardt: A young man fighting for his honor and samurai tradition, from the abolished Shogunate, I’m proud to have Tokugawa Noritoshi among the men to stand in this fight. From the left of Lü Dongbin, a young Japanese man with well-kept mustache steps up and bows to the public as well. Professor Borhcardt: We also have a true knight standing among us and willing to fight for our cause: Knight Charles Durant! A young, Frenchman wearing a knight armor steps up and thans the public. Professor Borchardt: Finally, a prince continues the legacy of the Spanish hero that fought in the Reconquista! Son of the Cid, Pedro Aragon de Vivar! A young-looking Mediterranean man steps up, thanking Professor Borchardt. Professor Borchardt: They are the most powerful thaumaturges, sorcerers, and alchemists that have joined our cause – the cause of humanity. Guardians of old traditions and from different backgrounds, they set aside their differences to shed their swords and fight against a greater evil. They’re the equivalent of their ancestors and our kings and dragonslayers that fought for us, and they will fulfill their duty today. Now, we march outside our trenches and camp, and summon god with the Rite of King Solomon. We will give all of you a clear signal to come and support us, and the battle that will decide the future of humanity will begin! Brothers, clean your weapons, sharp your swords, and stand guard – when dusk falls, we will be free from the greatest dragon we have faced, and humanity will be freed! Soldiers and volunteers roar excitedly, as six officers bring horses to the platoon of Professor Borchardt. The men in charge of the rite climb up the horses, and Professor Borchardt leads the team. The men open a way to let them cross, continuing to clap and roar at them as they march out of the trenches and into the green lands of Golgotha. The platoon marches for several miles into plain, greenish land of Golgotha. Not a single tree or bush is seen, only the mountain that stands tall miles ahead of where they are marching. Suddenly, Professor Borchardt orders to halt. In front of them, Cardinal Bonaventura stands with his hands inside his robes. Professor Borchardt and the rest of the team march wearily, as Borchardt calls the Cardinal. Professor Borchardt: Have you come here to find your god, Cardinal? To show mercy, to love and forget the abuses of the tyrant you worship? If so, I recommend you leave immediately. Humanity is at war with the Vatican, and even if we won’t assault the city, we won’t doubt in attacking a Cardinal in battle. Cardinal Bonaventura shakes his hand. Professor Borchardt: I’m here to give you some news. Prince Vivar: Good news or bad news, Cardinal? Cardinal Bonaventura: Hopefully good news, my brother. But that all depends if you take them as good news. Professor Borchardt: What is it, then? Cardinal Bonaventura: First, I’m here to inform you that the Catholic Church and the Holy See surrendered and have withdrawn from the war. That includes the Confraternity, and every other Roman Catholic group that has acted under our authority. Professor Simeon: There were more? Cardinal Bonaventura: You haven’t noticed14? Well, I suppose that will remain a mystery. The point is, the Pope has decided to stop our war against the alliance, and so we are retiring our hostilities. Professor Borchardt: Congratulations that the Pope finally came to his senses. Now, other news do you have for us? Cardinal Bonaventura: The other news is our explanation as to why: I, as representative of the Confraternity, interacted with some of the leaders – if you call them that – that fight against the side of false god you’re waging war over. They suspected me – I don’t blame them, they’ve had it against us humans for some time now –, but I gained their confidence. And they’ve explained to me why they fight. Professor Simeon: For survival. Cardinal Bonaventura: Some do, others have different motives. However, there was one in particular which I trusted in: Gaea, Mother Earth. Of course, I don’t believe her, but she said something interesting. Professor Borchardt: Get to the point. Cardinal Bonaventura: She said that god – and I’m saying it with a minuscule g, because I don’t wish to insult the Lord by comparing His Greatness to that false deity – was not the god that you think it is. That what you’re about to do won’t change anything, and it will not go as planned. Professor Borchardt: You said you don’t believe her, but you trust her in what she said? You’re more foolish than I believed. Cardinal Bonaventura: You don’t understand. If you kill that thing, you will not accomplish anything. They fight because they want to keep things like what they are to survive, because they will die. And let me tell you, they’re mad. They will slaughter you. I’m giving not only you, but the soldiers at the back a chance to stand down and live another day. What you will do will only bring destruction and death. Professor Borchardt: Like all wars do. Cardinal Bonaventura: And the aftermath of this war will be greater than any normal war we wage among ourselves, and would’ve been fought for nothing. I’m warning you, Siegfried. Please, have mercy. Professor Borchardt and his platoon stand silent for a moment, looking at Cardinal Bonaventura. Professor Borchardt speaks up. Professor Borchardt: If we stand back and we give that.. false god mercy, will they be merciful to us back? Cardinal Bonaventura: …I’m afraid not. I tried to reason with them, with Gaea. But they’re too mad, and too far gone in this war to stand down. Professor Borchardt marches to Cardinal Bonaventura, and his horse stands in front of him, its breath hitting the Cardinal’s face. Professor Borchardt looks down to the Cardinal. Professor Borchardt: And we are also too far gone to stop, Cardinal. And just like them, we’re trying to survive. Cardinal Bonaventura: You’re not trying to survive, you’re trying to commit a slaughter. Professor Borchardt: Then let a slaughter happen, Cardinal. Cardinal Bonaventura looks frightened at Professor Borchardt, and he looks down and sighs. He looks up, and prays for a moment. He blesses Professor Borchardt, and finishes with an amen. Cardinal Bonaventura: May God have mercy on your soul, Professor. And may God have mercy on all of you. I just hope that you won’t regret your decision if you survive. Professor Borchardt: We don’t need your prayings, Cardinal, and we don’t plan on regretting our choice. Cardinal Bonaventura nods. Cardinal Bonaventura: I imagined. Cardinal Bonaventura turns around, and walks away. His figure slowly diminishes as he walks farther away from the platoon. A sudden cloud sweeps through the island, and Cardinal Bonaventura is lost. Professor Borchardt turns around the platoon. Professor Borchardt: This is where we’ll start. It’s the center between the coast and the camp. The platoon nods, and they step down from their horses. Professor Borchardt casts a spell, and he clears an entire perimeter of grass. Lü Dongbin follows up, petrifying the dirt as hard as stone. The platoon begins to draw the lines to resemble a more complex Seal of Solomon. They finish, and Professor Borchardt pulls out the First Key and puts it on – he slightly shakes his hand, but he grows accustomed. He stands at the tip of the Seal. Professor Borchardt: Let’s finish this, take out your Keys and have your weapons ready. We’re going to have a long day ahead. The squad nods, and they each take their key. Nimue-Lar pulls out the Dragon Brooch of Xia – the Second Key of Solomon –, and puts it on; Professor Simeon pulls out the Third Key of Solomon, the Iron Crown of Lombardy, putting on – he collapses to the ground, barely holding himself conscious. Prince Vívar tries to lift him up, but he pulls his hand up, and slowly raises to his feet; continuing, Prince Vívar pulls out a golden necklace with diamond extracts, the Fourth Key of Solomon, called the Necklace of Queen Sheba. He puts it on, and Prince Vívar feels a heavy weight over his neck, almost pulling him into the ground – he kneels for a moment, breathing heavily, and stands up. Lü Dongbin looks around him, but continues. He pulls out the Fifth Key of Solomon, the Royal Sceptre of Jerusalem. So far, he had it inside a bag on his lap. Now that he took it out and held it, his hand began to burn, but he continued to hold the Fifth Key; immediately, Tokugawa Noritoshi took out the Sixth Key of Solomon he kept inside the bag that hung from his horse: a large, purple mantle with golden touches across, alongside the Seal of the House of David: the Saintful Mantle of Babylon. He put over his shoulders, and began to feel his body temperature rose, still he continued to wear it. Finally, Knight Charles Durant pulled out from his horse's bag a golden orb with emerald cravings and a cross above it, and held it in his hands – the Holy Orb of Prague. The lines of the Seal of Solomon in the ground began to glow in golden yellow, and the earth began to shake. Then, the insides of the lines began to glow with a cerulean blue, making an immense glow of gold and cerulean in the Seal of Solomon. Professor Borchardt pulled up his hand, and pointed the Ring to the sky – the rest of the platoon followed, each pointing their Key to the sky. The cloud grew heavier, the breeze began to hit in their faces harder, making the camp in the background and the sailing battleships in a vast and voluminous mist. The keys glowed, and Professor Borchardt ordered to recite the summoning prayer. With each passing verse, the glow from the ground and the minerals attached to the rings escalated in brightness, with some members covering their eyes to avoid the heavy shine hitting their eyes – Professor Borchardt persisted, avoiding to squint his eyes as he kept his focus on the progress of the rite. The earth shook again, and the verses each member of the platoon prayed echoed around them. At the middle of the summoning prayer, the earth began to crack in the lines where the Seal was drawn. Despite the concern for their safety, the platoon continued their prayer, now closer to summoning SCP-8343. As the echoes of their prayer grew and the golden and cerulean glow brightened to the point of hitting their eyes, the cracks below earth deepened and expanded. A faint roar was heard from below the crust, followed by falling hits of rocks beneath and the pounding hitting the crust as if a giant beast escalated to the top of the Earth. The redness and brown from the Earth combined with the almost heavenly colors of the Seal of Solomon – with each passing word and each finishing verse, the situation grew in immensity and strength. Then, Professor Borchardt and the rest of the platoon prayed their final verse. Professor Borchardt: What is your superiority over us? The platoon: What is your superiority over us? The center of the Seal cracked, collapsing on itself, falling to the deepness of the Earth and swallowed by the neverending fall. Professor Borchardt: Take the chain off me… The platoon: Take the chain off me… From the collapsed center of the Seal, the center roared immensely, hitting the faces of the platoon. Professor Borchardt: …give me your ring, and I will show you. The platoon: Give me your ring, and I will show you. The self-containing glow of cerulean, gold, burning red and carbonated brown formed a gigantic sphere with an all-encompassing Seal of Solomon above them. For a moment, there was silence, but nobody kept their guards down. Suddenly, the sphere exploded after a massive roar came from the collapsed center, pushing the platoon back. SCP-8343: THE NAME OF THY MASTER IS UPON THEE. The earth around them begins to collapse, and Professor Borchardt orders the platoon to stand up. They regroup, joining in the remains of the collapsed Seal, with each touching the tip of their respective Key. Professor Borchardt: You, the Lord Our God, summon you to present yourself to us! And we summon you in the shape of a dragon! Present yourself upon ye! The Earth shook again, and the floor collapsed yet again. Professor Borchardt ordered the platoon to disperse, with each jumping to a safe position away from the new useless drawn seal. What was left of the seal fell to the insides of the globe, and an immense light from the inside exploded from the immense crater. A sharp, cutting scream roared from the inside. The earth from the fallen seal erupted in flying pieces, as a gigantic, serpent-like body flew from outside the crater. Its scales cut the edges of the crater with extreme sharpness, showing the endurance of its body. Finally, the body flew away as the tail at the end of its body propelled it into the air alongside its wings. The massive dragon roared in the sky, shaking the Earth and putting the platoon out of balance. SCP-8343 flew away, from harm's way of Professor Borchardt’s platoon, and into Mount Golgotha. SCP-8343 landed on the top of Mount Golgotha, its claws pierced through the mountainous terrain, and roared again. However, instead of showing a serpentine-like head, SCP-8343 had the head of a lion. SCP-8343 roared again, and spit a fire-like substance into the sky. Suddenly, the area from the camp headquarters all the way to the established perimeter of the battleships was encapsulated by a dome-like mist. The dragon looked down from Mount Golgotha, and pierced down to the eyes of the small platoon standing kilometers away from it. SCP-8343: I WILL AT LEAST SPARE YOU THE TROUBLE OF PEOPLE WATCHING WHAT THEY MUST NOT SEE. Professor Borchardt puts down his bag, and sheds out a weapon from inside: a large, roman golden spear, with the tip of the lance covered in fossilized, dry blood. SCP-8343 hisses and backs up even further to the top, as Professor Borchardt now holds the glowing Lance of Longinus in his hands and points it at SCP-8343. Professor Borchardt: Even at your weakest, when you’re back down to a wall and coward in fear, you still remain a tyrant! You blind the people you call your creation, your greatest pride, but have no doubt in blinding them to the reality of this corrupted world created by your hand. Tell me, God, do you have no shame? No regret? No sense of dignity or compassion? Or are you too blinded by your own power and authority, just like when you stripped Job of his life because you were jealous he didn’t idolize you enough. Are we your new Jobs, testing our faith? SCP-8343 opens its jaw, but interrupts itself. He looks down to his right, and looks back at Professor Borchardt. The platoon of the Society of the Godless, looks at the direction SCP-8343 looked, and they gasp amazed. A gigantic infantry line walks from the depths of the isle, pushing forward. It is formed by many anomalous species, each rising up their banner: Faeries, Children of the Night, and necromanced skeletons in different military uniforms. Humans can be seen as well, wearing robes of Druids, Native Americans, occult societies that did not support the alliance’s cause. The Children of the Night infantry carried immense catapult systems, standing at arms length as they placed them in strategic places. The humans, trying to keep up, mounted horses and rode alongside the flying Faeries. In the front of them, a woman in Classical Greek warrior armor breezes through the grand, with leaves and branches carrying her feet as she walks to the platoon: SCP-9927. The entire platoon unleashes their weapons as SCP-9927 approaches: Professor Magnus Simeon holsters Tyrfing, shining a bright light like the sun – overshadowed by the darkness of the mist imposed by SCP-8343; Nimue-Lar unshed the sword from its blue cloth with three golden crowns: the Excalibur, and pointed it at SCP-9927; Tokugawa Noritoshi and Lü Dongbi held the grip of their swords, Kusanagi and the Flying Sword respectively; Knight Durant unsheathed the Durendal of Roland, stabbing it into the Earth and shaking the ground, momentarily stopping the marching army; SCP-9927 stopped, just in time as Prince Vívar when he unfolded Tizona and stood guard. The members of the platoon and SCP-9927 stared at each other, as multiple trumpets played in the back of the platoon. A march of horses, footsteps, and carrying SHARP artillery were brought to the fighting field. The generals of each army stood at the front, riding their horses and waving their respective flags: American, British, Japanese, French, German, Russian, and Chinese. Many more minor coat of arms and banners were lifted up by the multiple secret societies who had joined the war. Now, the two armies faced each other as well. They each remained silent, with SCP-8343 roaring from Mount Golgotha – which was broken by SCP-9927. SCP-9927: Professor Borchardt, I congratulate you for your efforts so far to undermine our cause. But the Cardinal already gave you a warning, didn’t he? Professor Borchardt: He did, one we promptly ignored. SCP-9927 nods, and lifts her hands. SCP-9927: Then there’s no reason for us to keep this battle waiting. Everyone, charge! The army of humanoid anomalies and parahumans shout from SCP-9927’s back, charging to the front into the Society of the Godless’ platoon and the army behind them. The generals shout orders to their, and the SHARP artillery cannons blast from the back, shooting immense Akiva-concentrated shells at the enemy. The Children of the Night artillerymen fight back, charging their catapults with EVE-concentrated fireballs, screaming it as they shout. The Akiva-concentrated shells and EVE-concentrated fireballs fly through the air to both sides, casting out immense light as they are fired, hitting the ground with immense explosion and breaking apart enemy lines. Several of these shells and fireballs hit each other, causing immense explosions in the air that make soldiers and volunteers from both sides fall from the ground. The soldiers who still remain on their feet advance to the charging enemy, some aligning formations with gatling guns and rifles in multiple sides, firing at the enemy in a barrage of lead – these bullets are at times stopped by thaumaturgical users and avoided by the flying Faeries, but they still manage to him some, killing them and falling to the ground. The barrage continues as the soldiers shoot, ending their ammunition and recharging. As the infantrymen recharge their weapons, the cavalry lead by Lt. Colonel Bowe charges at the enemy, firing their own rifles and revolvers at the enemy in the ground. Lt. Colonel Bowe himself brings his own sword to the ground, striking at the enemies and cutting limb for limb, at times entertaining himself as he persecutes some of his enemies. Once the infantrymen finishing recharging their weapons, the earth shakes as SCP-9927 lifts her hands to the sky and throws them back to the ground – the leaves from the ground began to shift below the soldiers, forming deep and rough branches, that tangle their arms and legs to the floor as they try to escape. Then, the branches begin to tangle their bodies, screaming in horror as they enter their orifices and their screams slowly dwindle by the branches entering their mouths. They become just another branched tree in the middle of the battlefield. The surviving soldiers gasp in horror, and stand up and continue to shoot at SCP-8343’s forces and to SCP-9927 in particular. Each bullet shot at her is caught in there by a branch or slapped away. As the cavalrymen meet with the mounted sorcerers and natives in battle, slicing, firing, and casting incantations onto each other, SCP-9927 does signs with her hands, and touches the dirty ground. Immediately, the grass surrounding the soldiers and volunteers becomes taller, thicker, and more difficult to travel – some soldiers are stopped from moving, causing them to be pierced and shot by the enemy; others, with great difficulty, begin to scratch themselves and ache from the scratches by the grass. Professor Borchardt orders his platoon to cut the grass, suffocating and attacking their teammates. He unleashes the Holy Lance, and slashes it into the grass that’s beginning to trap him – as the swift blade of the lance cuts through the grass, and immense ray of light follows up, causing the grass to be cut down in its entirety and the earth to be incapable to be grown again. The rest of the platoon follows, as they support each other in cutting the grass, leaving enough room for the generals, soldiers and volunteers to breathe. Professor Borchardt: Everyone, move forward! Each of you, acquire a horse. We’ll pierce through the enemy lines with our swords, and force a way into Mount Golgotha. Finally cutting the grasses and leaving the earth lifeless, the members of the platoon agree and attack the near enemies mounting horses. Piercing the horsemen or knocking them down, Borchardt’s platoon acquired horses, and dispersed to assist the multiple fronts of the battlefield. Professor Simeon assists the thaumaturgists from secret societies, slaying in half at each Faerie and parahuman on his past with Tyrfing – in their last breaths, some barely manage to mutter “traitor” and “liar”. Nimue-Lar, Tokugawa, Knight Durant and Lü Dongbin each stab and strike at the enemies in their way – cutting them in half, catching them on fire and blinding them, evaporating them in blasts of light. The first wave of SCP-8343’s warriors is severely diminished, leaving the other waves and the Children of the Night artillerymen defenseless. SCP-9927, now surrounded by enemies and with few remaining forces – hunted down by the generals and their armies – lifted up an immense patch of land from the ground to an even taller position, allowing the artillery to have a better range of fire and protection. SCP-9927: The Earth isn’t yours to conquer, you arrogant fools! It belongs to us – while you remained in your caves, we created civilizations that balanced with nature and embraced what you call the paranormal. And when you come out on top, you ravage my land and kill my sons and daughters. We gave you a chance to spare yourselves your lives, and you have thrown it away. Then I’ll gladly take it! Borchardt and his platoon ride to the other side of the battle into SCP-8343’s territory, and the Earth shakes in their feet. The earth trembles and cracks fast, causing the ground to fall again as soldiers and volunteers fall through the cracks. The cracks deepen and expand, following the platoon as the hooves of the horses are tripping, trying to win against the cracks on the ground. The SHARP shells fire again, pointing at SCP-9927 in the center of it all. She raises her hands, with sweat falling from her forehead and her mouth twitching as she concentrates to hunt down Borchardt’s platoon and protect herself. A barrier rises from the ground, barely protecting her from the barrage of shells banging the barrier and the ground. However, shrapnel and debris fly around her, hitting her and cutting her throughout her arms and face. She yells, casting down the barrier and sending a wave of branches, leaves and rocks towards the army in front of her. SCP-9927: Get out of our way already! The soldiers and volunteers in her path are swiftly pushed away and killed in the motion, with barely a few reacting on time. The Generals order their men to disperse, some barely coming out alive. Several of the generals, directly in the line of impact, wait for the attack to come. Suddenly, the cracking ground falls over itself, giving birth to another gigantic crater in the middle of the battlefield. Borchardt’s platoon, SCP-9927, and the common foot soldier and volunteer are confused. Those near the crater approach carefully and peak into the crater – they back off, after a sudden swarm of flies come out of the crater, with an immense laugh coming from the bottom. The insects fly to SCP-9927's side and attack her and her underlings. Those who pass SCP-9927’s defenses swarm to SCP-8343, biting it and attacking it everywhere they can – making SCP-8343 roar. Astonished, the crater finishes with the swarm of flies, as demons climb up their ranks with thaumaturgical artifacts and pre-Diluvian armor and weapons, significantly outweighing and outgrowing the common foot soldier. Finally, from the bottom the laugh finally stops as a giant demon rises up from the crater and closes it, with it mounted above a chariot with demonic runes and led by skeletal horses. Confused, SCP-9927 covers herself with her arms as flies continue to fly, swarm, and attack her. SCP-9927: Beelzebub, what are you doing?! Beelzebub: Finishing what I, Lucifer, and the others started, of course! It looks like Michael ditched his father at last, so this might be more than just marching right to death. I am willing to take the chance and help these mortals overthrow the tyrant from the skies. Nothing personal, Gaea. Beelzebub charges to the front, straight to SCP-8343 as his archdemons fly alongside him. They are pushed back and brushed away by the branches of SCP-9927, but the branches casted down to attack Beelzebub are cut down rapidly with a swift cut from his sword, burning the branches to dust as he derails from his destination and onto SCP-9927. He charges forward with his chariot, burning his path to SCP-9927’s anger. Arriving in front of her, he knocks his blade down onto her, but is blocked midair by a branch. Suddenly, SCP-9927 knocks the chariot down by turning the earth below Beelzebub’s chariot to a side, knocking him down. SCP-9927 pulls up the earth around him, casting an immense shadow onto him as the earth pushes itself back to smash him. Beelzebub spins around quickly, cutting the earth from its root and spinning out of the area, panting and brushing his eyebrow. Beelzebub: You know, it’s been a while since I’ve fought someone like you. Punishing corrupted souls and enslaving weakens you. I’ll leave my job to those sinners down there – I can entertain myself with you for a moment. SCP-9927 snorts, with sweat falling in her face in her dirt-trenched face. Beelzebub screams at his archdemons, who immediately stop to his side. Beelzebub: Bring those mortals to the highest point of Mount Golgotha, as close as you can to God! They have the swords capable of annihilating him – assist them, and Earth and Hell shall be freed from His tyranny. The archdemons comply, flying past Beelzebub and SCP-9927. She pulls branches to the sky, but they miss as the archdemons disperse to different routes – the branches miss their targets and stand in the middle of the air, incapable of following them. SCP-9927 looks back, charging her branches to the flying archdemons – but she’s sliced in her back and hit with the shaft of Beelzebub’s sword, knocking her helmet down and dripping blood from the back of her head. Beelzebub: Don’t get distracted, Gaea! SCP-9927 waves back at Beelzebub, slapping him off from the field with a gigantic, thorned branch. He is sent back, and stands up coughing, with multiple thorns stuck throughout his body and armor. SCP-9927 snaps at him, and charges towards him as the earth splits below her, dirt and rocks flying through all sides as strikes at Beelzebub – blocking at the last minute. SCP-9927: You’re a traitor, Beelzebub. Beelzebub: I’m just looking for Hell’s interest, Gaea, my dear. SCP-9927 screams at Beelzebub as he continues to smile, with branches tangling him to the ground as flies surround the both of them, obscuring SCP-9927’s view. Professor Borchardt looks away from the situation, and looks up at the sky and points at the platoon, the demons falling from the air towards them. He orders each to hold themselves to an archdemon, as he jumps and is catched in his arms by an archdemon. The platoon follows him, bracing themselves to an archdemon as they fly to Mount Golgotha, leaving the bloody battlefield and their comrades on the ground. Professor Borchardt looks back from the sky to the battlefield, seeing the catapults of the Children of the Night falling to the ground as the SHARP shells blast the bases created by SCP-9927, and the anomalous humanoids and parahumans fighting to their last breath as they are shoot, striked, and incinerated by the allied forces – all while the Earth continues to be shaken by SCP-9927 as she fights against Beelzebub, as SCP-8343 roars in horror at the situation. SCP-8343: DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER. The small flies and insects that were attacking and biting at SCP-8343 are incinerated by a giant flash of light, with the archdemons carrying the platoon being temporarily blinded from the flash, losing their grip on the platoon. They fall from the sky, barely landing near where SCP-8343 is standing on Mount Golgotha. SCP-8343 shifts around, and roars at Borchardt’s platoon. SCP-8343 lifts up its front leg, showing its massive claw as it throws it down to the platoon. SCP-8343 is stopped after being shot by multiple SHARP shells from the Japanese and Royal Navy's battleships, distracting him from the platoon for a moment. Professor Borchardt turns around and points at SCP-8343 with his sword. Professor Borchardt: Everyone, get as close as you can to the dragon! Attack him from the lowest height you can and build up from there. I will go from the tail all the way up to its skull, and I’ll strike him the last. I when I yell at you when I’ll do it, I want you to escape and run off as far as you can! Professor Simeon protests. Professor Simeon: Are you insane, Siegfried?! We didn’t come all the way here just to let you kill yourself alongside God! We’re all returning back. Professor Borchardt: Not everyone comes back from war, Magnus. And I don’t want you to be one of those who don’t come back, nor anyone else of you here. I am where I want to be, and I want to die knowing I achieved my mission – that will be the biggest satisfaction I’ll get right now. So, Magnus, let me do it. Professor Simeon opens his mouth, but is interrupted by the roar of SCP-8343 as its echoes move the waves aggressively, causing the battleships to lose balance. Professor Simeon: Fine! But I will help you do it, and I’ll make sure that what you achieved is done. Professor Borchardt nods. Professor Borchardt: Let’s go! The platoon separates as SCP-8343 casts down a gigantic spell of fire to the ground, and Nimue-Lar stands at the front, casting the aether to her will as she disperses the fire away from the platoon – yelling at the rest of the team to disperse and attack SCP-8343. They comply, with Professor Borchardt and Professor Simeon running together to the tail of SCP-8343, who slams his tail at the both of them – they jump just in time, with Borchardt stabbing the Holy Lance into the bottom of the tail. Knowing what will happen next, Professor Borchardt gives his hand to Professor Simeon, who holds him firmly as SCP-8343 screams to the top of its lungs, shaking its tail around to put them down – as Professor Borchardt continues to grip the Holy Lance and Professor Simeon pulls out Tyrfing and repeatedly pierces SCP-8343 into its skin, until he finally stabs SCP-8343 and pierces it, making SCP-8343 scream. While SCP-8343 screams, Dongbin and Tokugawa slice the legs of SCP-8343, shaking its head below itself as Dongbin and Tokugawa continue to slide below its belly. Suddenly, Nimue-Lar jumps, striking Excalibur into SCP-8343’s throat and sliding down. As she is about to fall down to the ground, SCP-8343 roars and slaps Nimue-Lar away to the slope of Mount Golgotha. She yells, barely slamming to the slope of the mount as she hangs in the air, listening to the artillery and screams at the battle below. Prince Vívar, who was cutting the sides of SCP-8343, looks at Nimue-Lar hanging and runs to help her get up. Rocks fall around her, and she looks up at Prince Vívar giving her hand. She throws her hand, and Prince Vívar pulls her up. Nimue-Lar tries to pull Excalibur from the stone, with Prince Vívar helping her. SCP-8343 roars, preparing to charge against them. SCP-8343 screams yet again after Borchardt climbs up its column, stabbing it multiple times while Simeon slides SCP-8343’s with Tyrfing. SCP-8343 shakes its body, Borchardt and Simeon holdings themselves as Borchardt yells to cut SCP-8343’s legs. The rest of the platoon follows, with each member slicing SCP-8343’s in a single hit, tumbling SCP-8343 to the ground as it roars again. The platoon strikes again, each cutting SCP-8343’s body as it continues to roar, sweeping its tail and casting fire out of its breath. Halfway to the head of SCP-8343, Borchardt and Simeon continue stabbing the body of SCP-8343. Suddenly, SCP-8343 turns around, knocking Borchardt and Simeon to the ground, spitting immense rays of lights around. The rest of the platoon takes cover, while Borchardt and Simeon cover each other from the rays of SCP-8343. SCP-8343 turns over itself again, dragging its body to the cliff of Mount Golgotha. SCP-8343 begins to open its wings, and falls down the cliff. Professor Borchardt screams, and runs towards the cliff. Professor Simeon: Siegfried, you madman! Everyone, leave the rest to us. Try to contact the flies, and assist everyone else on the ground! Professor Borchardt jumps down the cliff, and Professor Simeon screams as he follows Borchardt. Borchardt falls right above SCP-8343’s back, with Simeon falling just in time to hold onto SCP-8343’s tail as SCP-8343 flips its wings and begins to fly. The beating of its wings push Borchardt and Simeon back, clinging their nails onto SCP-8343’s skin – it roars, and shifts direction, unbalancing both. Professor Borchardt: Magnus, jump! Leave him to me, I’ll finish this. Professor Simeon screams desperately as he clings to SCP-8343’s tail. Professor Simeon: No! No, no, no! We started this battle together, Siegfried, and we’ll finish it together. Give me a chance! Battling with himself and the rush of the situation, Borchardt finally agrees. He turns around, dragging himself to SCP-8343 as it continues to fly and roar. Borchardt extends his hand to Simeon, and after touching each other's tips, they finally hold each other hands – Borchardt pulls Simeon towards him and onto SCP-8343’s back. Professor Borchardt: I don’t want to, I want to finish this by myself – to know that after I die, I will be remembered as the man who killed god. Now, I guess we’ll have the privilege of being both men to kill him. Professor Simeon chuckles. Professor Simeon: I was satisfied with the title of professor, but I can accept that too. SCP-8343 roars, bursting out immense rays of light to the battlefield, screams crying from the ground. Borchardt and Simeon look down, then back to each other and nod. Borchardt stabs SCP-8343 again with the Holy Lance, as Simeon crawls himself to one of its wings and swings Tyrfing – cutting the wing to half, and making SCP-8343 cry in pain. SCP-8343: STOP! STOP IT, YOU DON’T KNOW THE MISTAKE YOU ARE COMMITTING! SCP-8343 screams again, bursting light out of its mouth, seeing Borchardt stabbing him on the other wing. Borchardt returns to the back, and proceeds to stab SCP-8343 again, then again, and again. With each stab, SCP-8343 continues to lose balance and falling down from the sky. SCP-8343: BORCHARDT! SIMEON! YOU ARE COMMITTING AN IMMENSE MISTAKE! I KEEP THE BALANCE! I AM NOT THE CREATOR, BUT THE GUARDIAN. Professor Borchardt looks confusedly at SCP-8343, but is interrupted after Professor Simeon stabs SCP-8343 repeatedly on the side of the neck. Professor Simeon turns around to Borchardt. Professor Simeon: What are you doing standing there?! Go kill Him! Professor Borchardt snaps out of it, and cuts SCP-8343’s neck, making it difficult to speak. SCP-8343: B-BORCHARDT! DO… DO NOT LISTEN. P-PLEASE, HAVE MERCY. Professor Borchardt: What about Sodom and Gomora, did you have any mercy for them?! What about letting sin crawl to the entire world, then blaming us and cleansing us in a gigantic flood? Was that mercy?! What about sending your own son to die on a cross, was that mercy too? SCP-8343: I… I– Professor Borchardt climbs up, pulling SCP-8343’s fur and making it roar. Professor Borchardt stabs it in the back of the head, causing SCP-8343 to screech loudly and fly more erratically. Professor Simeon looks up, watching Borchardt continuing to climb and holding himself to SCP-8343’s ear. Barely clinging, Borchardt stabs SCP-8343’s on the top of the head. Immense rays of light come out of SCP-8343’s ears, mouth and eyes, causing it to shine in immense golden and cerulean – the mist of SCP-8343 begins to change in colors dramatically. Professor Borchardt: You… You didn’t give us a chance. You created the same problem you blame us for, and avoid your own damned responsibility. You created this world? Fine. But we don’t need you anymore. We will create our own, without the boundaries of religion, superstition and the unknown. Grasping himself into SCP-8343’s fur, he climbs down to SCP-8343’s forehead. Professor Simeon tries to climb back up, but his hand rips the fur and begins to fall down. Simeon screams erratically, trying to reach for SCP-8343 as he slowly falls to the battlefield. Professor Borchardt looks down, and screams. Professor Borchardt: Simeon? Simeon?! Borchardt grips the Holy Lance, his hands trembling as he touches the divine lance. Just like when Longinus stared into Christ to make sure he was dead, Longinus stared into SCP-8343 to make sure it died. Borchardt lifted the lance up, and saw SCP-8343’s filled with terror. Professor Borchardt: Humanity will be freed, God. We will finish your job. Borchardt stabs SCP-8343 just in the middle of the eyes, causing it to roar in immense pain. Borchardt takes out the Holy Lance, and furiously stabs SCP-8343 again, deepening it into SCP-8343’s forehead. The light begins to condense and concentrate into SCP-8343 and even Borchardt himself. He ignores the light, pulling the Holy Lance out of SCP-8343, with immense distress for the latter. He takes a deep breath, and Borchardt swings the lance again into SCP-8343’s forehead. SCP-8343 flies to the sky, higher and higher, reaching for the mist it created. However, now the mist begins to reduce in size and slowly retrieve from its previous area, concentrating on where SCP-8343 is going. The men and anomalies on the battlefield stop, as they stand in awe at the sight of the lion-headed dragon flying higher and higher, out of the sky and into the stratosphere with a man on top of it. SCP-8343 screams, its last roar coming out tired and defeated, and the light inside of it is no more. The light returns again, in a mass explosion in the middle of the sky. The mist that surrounded SCP-8343 expanded to all sides, engulfing the entirety of Mount Golgotha, the battle on the ground, and coast of the island where the navy was sailing. The mist continues to expand into the North Sea, causing the water to whiplash in immense waves comparable to the Flood. Every soldier, every sorcerer, every demon, every parahuman and abnormality stare at the scene in shock, as they take cover and hide their eyes from the blinding light. And from a second to another, the light stopped. There was no longer a lion-headed dragon in the sky, or a mist that surrounded it, or a man riding the dragon on itself. The brightness of the sky was now replaced with the setting sun, and the fall of dusk. SCP-8343 – God – was killed, and humanity had won. The anomalies, those who had not been killed yet, disappeared or collapsed onto the floor. And the humans still standing cheered in victory, hugging each other – to the parahumans, they were the ones who knew the truth. Even if they did not understood yet. Operation Anthropos Heimarene did result in the successful neutralization of SCP-8343, as well as a brief but powerful morale boost by the participants of the human alliance in their victory against SCP-8343 and the anomalous. Records from human survivors and leaders reported an immense sense of accomplishment and fulfillment, with many agreeing that a new age of reason would finally be accomplished after the destruction of SCP-8343, which would result in the destruction of the anomalous. However, the reality of Operation Anthropos Heimarene would present itself incredibly soon, with Incident Second Deluge. Imperial Germany Army arriving at a town around Hamburg to aid civilians, with the storm of the flood on the background (1881). As its name suggests, Incident Second Deluge refers to a massive storm tide that occurred across the North Sea, as a physical backlash that occurred from the neutralization of SCP-8343. Incident Second Deluge affected coastal cities across Great Britain, Denmark, Germany, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Norway. This resulted in thousands of civilian deaths as a result from the loss, damage to civilian infrastructure, sudden stop of agricultural production – resulting in widespread famine – as well as massive shutdown of maritime economic activity in these cities, resulting in the worsening of the conditions to supply aid to these countries. This caused mass hysteria across the population, and all of this was reported in local newspapers. The hysteria caused the public and news reporters to think that a second deluge was coming, and that “God’s wrath would cleanse the Earth again because of disbelief and the corruption of man’s soul.” This was only worsened by the fact of the explosion of the mist while it was a rainbow, where many religious newspapers at the time saw it as God’s signal that his covenant to not bring another flood to the Earth was broken, and that humanity should await the coming of a Second Flood. The affected areas were immediately quarantined by each nation’s paranormal agency and respective armies, and all the newspapers informing of Incident Second Deluge were censored, shut down, and their editors and journalists imprisoned. The victims of Incident Second Deluge where saved, moved from their homes to national insane asylums that were remodeled to host the victims of the incident. French newspaper depicting towns in the North Sea coast affected by Incident Second Deluge (1881). The reconstruction of the nations of the North Sea would begin ever since the end of Operation Anthropos Heimarene until the mid-1880s. However, the impact of Incident Second Deluge was an immense shock for the entire occult world at the time, but mostly for the world governments since they saw themselves as the actors who contributed the most to the war and were the most affected by it. The last straw, however, would be the actual result of the destruction of SCP-8343. While it was expected that SCP-8343’s neutralization would result in the neutralization of the anomalous as a whole – including thaumaturgy and the parasciences –, it led to the exact opposite: the neutralization of SCP-8343 at the end of Operation Anthropos Heimarene resulted in an immense psionic and paranatural backlash that would be echoed throughout the world and for multiple decades, and resulted in an immediate, exacerbated, and extended mass awakening of latent paranormal activity across the world and the population. Such examples of the paranormal backlash as a result of the neutralization of SCP-8343 include: a severe psychic backlash in psi-sensitive subjects and parahumans, leading to feelings of ennui and nihilism – both in participants of the war and anti-war activists; at the same time, the backlash resulted in the strengthening of existing paranormal influence in practicing humans and parahumans, as well as awakening paranormal potential in human subjects15. Incident Second Deluge, the mass hysteria in the population and the paranormal world, and the paranormal backlash that awakened and extended the paranormal capacity of the world population – human and nonhuman – resulted in world governments to intervene to end the Sixth Occult War, replacing the role of occult societies and parascientific organizations to institute a formal policy to establish a modern consensus of normalcy. As such, the Convention of Preternatural Phenomena was initiated shortly after the end of Operation Anthropos Heimarene by representatives of the most important world governments – with permission of occult societies and parascientific institutions to participate as observers. The Convention of Preternatural Phenomena established what today is known as the Veil Protocol: in this protocol, the concept of Normalcy was finally formalized across the countries – and therefore the world – to separate normal, physical, scientific phenomenon and paranormal phenomenon that existed and was exacerbated before and after Operation Anthropos Heimarene: ironically, the Convention, despite being lead by the most important paranormal national agencies, resulted in the agreement of the need of an non-aligned, international normalcy agency that would be in charge of containing the increasing anomalous phenomenon and protect human innocence from the everchanging and incoherent world that resulted from the neutralization of SCP-8343. Finally, despite that SCP-8343 was neutralized in Operation Anthropos Heimarene on April 3, 1881, the Sixth Occult War was formally declared over by the Convention of Preternatural Phenomenon on November 23, 1882 with the enactment of the Veil Protocol. From the neutralization of SCP-8343 and Incident Second Deluge, the Convention of the Preternatural Phenomenon would result in the formation of the SCP Foundation. Despite constant search by national authorities and occult societies, the bodies of Professor Siegfried Borchardt and Professor Magnus Simeon were never found. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A NEW ENTRY TO SCP-8343 DOCUMENTATION HAS BEEN ADDED . WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONSULT IT? . Y/N . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Open Audio Log from O5-9 Close Audio Log from O5-9 Last portrait of O5-9, before his retirement of the O5 Council (1913) From the office of O5-9, To anyone who is listening to this, I hope you just read the documentation regarding SCP-8343. Please, let me introduce myself: I am Siegfried Borchardt. I know that it was long read, but I'm saddened to admit this to you: what you just read was a lie. Well, a half truth, actually. SCP-8343 was indeed neutralized by myself and Magnus. But, SCP-8343 was right when I was about to strike a blade in between its eyes: it wasn't God. Let me tell you more about myself before elaborating. At the time, I was a young man. Energetic, rebellious, like all young men must be. I was raised deeply religious at the time: Lutheran, common from the upper regions of the German Confederation at the time. But, with time and reading, I became skeptic of my religious education. Frankly, I despised everything what I was taught and the philosophy behind the Bible. I considered it foolish to believe anything it said: man given birth from clay, the Earth created in just six days and the creator rested on the seventh, a massive flood that swept throughout the planet, and a carpenter crucified for our sins and being born again on three days. It was absolutely ridiculous. I could tolerate stupidity, but not moral hipocrisy. The bishops at my town raged against me for having too many questions, and them too little answers. They shoved the word of God on my face, despite the immorality of the same: he sent his Son to die for our sins, but constantly bullied and picked us for being sinners. He burned Sodom and Gomorra to the ground; let his own sons drown on his storm just to let his favorite live; made Cain immortal as punishment for mudering his brother, despite not giving him the same self-proclaimed love he had for him; but worst of all, casting down Adam and Eve out Eden because they took a bite from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. I remember that re-reading the Bible at that time, it absolutely infuriated me. By that point, I had abandoned my religious beliefs. I became a proper atheist, and always absolutely denied any belief for the existence of any deity. It was at the time too, that I became interested in the natural sciences, and was eventually admitted into Göttingen. This would result in my eventual participation in occult practices. Again, I didn't believe in any of that nonsense at the time, and I thought it was an absolute sham. It turned, it wouldn't. And just as I left my superstitious history, I was pulled back. I had a crisis after the session was over… I simply couldn't accept it. It grossed me that I was attracted to it, but I came back. I wished to understood. And I returned again, and then again. It was paradoxical: each time I understood more, but it made less sense. I could cast spells and use magic, but I still couldn't understand why and how. I felt that everything I was studying in Göttingen was for nothing. If the paranormal existed, and it contradicted everything we were understanding of our world, then why do we even study? Why do we even try to understand, if it will be contradicted because reality doesn't wish to be understood? We built libraries, we formulated the scientific method, we began to understand. And the paranormal just swept the floor with its mere existence. And even if I was grateful for what I learned, I was furious. Again, I questioned my seniors. And again, I was eventually casted out. That led me to only two conclusions: either the anomalous had to bend to man's laws, or it had to be entirely wiped out of the face of the earth. I was not alone. Many of my contemporaries: philosophers, scientists, intellectuals, some thaumaturgists and occultists, agreed with my opinions. Why wouldn't they. Humanity was at the gate of an era of reason and intellectual enlightenment, where we wouldn't need the superstitious and religious. And the paranormal was difficulting the process. So, we formed the Society of the Godless. A secret society united by their anticlerical, antireligious fervor, in order to explain the unexplainable. Eventually, we grew in numbers and influence. Especially after Nietzsche arrived. And the news came in: the Ring of Solomon, and the Congress in Paris. I was one of the first to volunteer, and I arrived as its representative. You already read that part in one of the addendums, so I will spare you the details. After all, what mattered was to show you why I was so eager to kill "God". And I say God with quotation marks. The reason that I say that SCP-8343 was not God is because I received most of its being from the backlash of its destruction. And I don't mean just SCP-8343's powers, I mean everything that it was. Its experiences, its memories, its outlook. The moment that I gave the final blow to SCP-8343, I sensed the EVE and AKIVA radiating throughout my body and into my core. I felt as if I had just pierced to my own mind insteaf of SCP-8343's mind. And that moment, a revelation was sent to me. I realized that SCP-8343 was not God, but something else. Not as powerful, not as knowledgeable, nor as perfect as God would've been. The best way to describe it would be a demiurge, or a sentient cosmic force. It did not create the universe, but evolved from the creation of the universe, and it adapted to do one mission: to safeguard the balance between the paranormal — sorry, the anomalous — and the normal. The unknown and the known, in simple terms. SCP-8343 was in charge of keeping this balance, and that was it. It kept the balance of the natural world, and the magical world. Therefore, it protected the laws of both — and it did not care if we considered it good or evil. It was merely interested in protecting both worlds and, as an extension, protecting itself from anyone who might threaten itself. And there you have the reason of SCP-8343's hostility. I saw its birth, its formation, its place in the vastity of the cosmos. It's perspective… was otherwordly, something that I had never felt in my life. I never felt that sentiment of connection to the vastness of the world, and balance between two clashing, opposing forces. For a moment, I felt a tear fall through my cheeks. And in a minute, SCP-8343 was gone, and I had killed it. I was snapped back to reality, its light piercing through my eyes and into my skull as it bursted in the gigantic flash of light that everyone saw. I could see myself, and everyone else as SCP-8343 died. My own point of view where I was mounting SCP-8343, and the point of view of every single person that was watching SCP-8343 on the ground. I felt an immense shook in myself, alongside the Earth. Then, I was blinded. I entered a black void, with nothing inside of it. For a moment, I feared that the world I wanted to free from its misery was too literally. Then, I was standing all by myself into the void. I felt my body, I saw it and I could feel and touch it. But there wasn't anything around it. No light, only darkness. And, an immense sense of guilt swept through my body. I feel to my knees, with my head down. I saw what SCP-8343 was, what it felt, what it meant. And I had just killed it. The psychic backlash that you just read above was horrifying to those who experienced it — I felt it ten, hundreds, thousands and even million more times worse than them. That's not for you to feel pity of myself, I didn't even have pity for me. I didn't wish to move. I didn't wish to do anything. I just wanted to remain there, in that dark world, and suffer my self-inflicting punishment. Another tear felt down my cheek, and it fell down to the floor. Suddenly, a small branch came out from the darkness, shining some greenish light to my face. My curiosity gave me a new sense of wonder, one that was pushed by the backlash from SCP-8343. I imagined the tree taller, and it grew. I imagined it taller, and it grew again. Subconsciously, I imagined one tree in particular, a tree that would imprison me in this world: the Tree of Life. And so I remembered the tale of Genesis, and the beautiful scenery of Milton. I closed my eyes, imagining the tree and the garden I was going to make for myself. I should've felt bliss, knowing that I could create my own Eden with this new mind; but I felt I was trespassing a point of no return. I could feel the grass in my feet, the smell of fresh air, the running of water, and the branches popping out of trunk. I didn't want to open my eyes, but I had to see what I did. I opened it, and my lights adapted to the brightest rays my eyes had ever felt, to see what I just created: a lively, beautiful and blissful garden. I walked, incapable of realizing that I had just casted my own Eden for myself. I arrived to the running lake, and splashed myself with the water. I had never felt so freshed in my entire life, but at that moment I did. Once I swept my face, I saw my face in the reflection of the water. The tree above me, leafy and lively. And just above my shoulder, Dr. Williams stood beside me, looking at me. "What a lovely garden you've made for yourself," Williams said, looking around absentmindedly. "Of course, I doubt that [REDACTED]'s garden was like yours. Certainly his must have been better." I shook the water off my hands. "How did you get here, Doctor?" He looked back at me, and smiled. "You already know that, Siegfried." And he didn't lie, I did. The memories of SCP-8343 showed Williams' true form, but the aura surrounded him was the same. They had both met, and in a way, Frederick was standing alongside SCP-8343 again. At least, what remained of him. "So, what do you want, Doctor?" I stood up, and walked to my own Tree of Life, and touched it. "I doubt you're here to feel the breeze of my garden, especially because you found it in such short time." Frederick chuckled. "You caught me, Siegfried. You're right, I didn't come here just to pay a visit. I came here to ask you something." I rested my back on the tree, tired from the battle at Golgotha. "And that is?" Frederick looked down at me. "What do you plan to do from here on out? You're still alive, and stronger than ever." "Continue to live inside this garden, and not leave," I looked up at the leaves of the Tree, at the center of my own little world. "I created it to remind myself that this is the result of my crime, and the punishment I'll bestow upon. To live forever, caged inside my garden, with the tree as my reminder." "Poetic," Frederick said. "So you plan to live here forever as your punishment for killing the demiurge." "The demiurge?" I asked. "If you're referring to God… to it, then yes." He nodded. "And you're not interested in life outside your garden, anymore?" "Why should I? I've only caused damage to the world, Dr. Williams. I caused a catastrophe to all of humanity: I killed the being that kept the balance of the world, caused a massive flood across the seas, and made nature out of balance between both forces. People have died, are dying and will die because of me. I am a danger. My arrogance caused others to suffer while I dragged them down." I shook my head. "No, it's better that I stay here, in this garden. If I return, I will damn my people again, and worse with the capabilities I now have." Frederick didn't respond, not immediately. He sat down alongside me in the tree, and looked at the sky in front of us. "Do you think so? You just created a beautiful garden, Siegfried. In part because of the demiurge and what you received from it, but mostly because of your own mind. All of this was created by you. You created such beauty, but you believe you will damn people?" I nodded. "I do." He sighed. "Siegfried, do you feel guilty?" I bit my tongue — a part of my old self didn't want to admit it, but he slowly dwindling. I had to make sure he was buried. "I do." "Do you think staying here will make the world better?" "It'll be better without me." "You also said the world would be better without the paranormal, and after we tried it, you can see what is happening." "Exactly." "Then it means the world is not better yet, and it won't be better, unless we do something about it." I remained silent. "You know what will happen next, don't you?" "Partly, I can only know the immediate consequences." "And what are those immediate consequences?" "The governments are going to try to hold their grip into the new paranormal wave, and use it for their advantage; the paranormal will increase in size and strength, while we… they, humans, will diminish in both; and it won't stop, not for a long time." "So do you now understand why I'm here for?" I nodded. "To protect mankind?" I asked. "That's correct." I chuckled. "By replacing one dragon with another?" Frederick chuckled back. "By replacing one dragon with another." Frederick stood up, and offered his hand to me. I looked up, and grabbed it. He pulled me up, and when I stood up, I saw the tree slowly begining to shift. The branches creaked, the leaves shrivelled, and three grew again. Then, one of the branches slowly began to move down, and from it two apples appeared in front of us. Frederick grabbed one, and held it in his hand. "I know you like symbolism, Siegfried, but there isn't any need for this." I stared at the apple. "I didn't do it, you should know that." Frederick gazed at me, funnily. "I know. But I think that God has a fate planned for us." At that moment I remembered Eve being tempted by the Serpent to eat the Forbidden Fruit, and now God was asking me to do the same. But was he tempting me, or encouraging me? To this day, I know it was the latter. I grabbed the apple, and held it to Frederick. We bumped our apples, and took a bite. We returned down to Earth. Once we returned, we got right to work. Eventually, our small group between Williams, Siegel, Shaw, and many others would transform into the Foundation. Each would become an overseer, and I was given the title of O5-9, that I've held for the last thirty years — until now. The truth is, power tires. Especially for a human mind with the powers such as the demiurge. I've fulfilled my role as O5-9 in the Council, but I'm getting old. Williams have always been old, but Siegel and Shaw won't admit it. They believe they can keep it up. But if I, that I've hit with the gifts of cosmic divinity, I've grown tired, soon enough they will too. This is my last report to the Foundation, before stepping down. I want all of you who are listening to me, to hear this: be careful for what you wish for, because you may regret the mistake you have committed, and you will only see the mistake unfold without being capable of overturning it. And if you manage to, it will cost dearly to you. And, one last thing… Please, forgive me… This is O5-9, signing out. FILE COMPLETED. SHUTTING DOWN TERMINAL… ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8343" by Comrade Waldo, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8343. 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: CongressOfTheHague1876.jpg Name: Europacongres._Churchill_spreekt,_Bestanddeelnr_902-7351.jpg Author: Snikkers / Anefo License: CC-1.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Europacongres._Churchill_spreekt,_Bestanddeelnr_902-7351.jpg Filename: FirstKeyOfSolomon.jpg Name: Solomon Ring Lapislazuli.jpg Author: Pblpitt License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Solomon_Ring_Lapislazuli.jpg Filename: GermanArmyAidingAffectedTown.jpg Name: Solomon Ring Lapislazuli.jpg Author: Unknown License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Soldiers_of_the_Imperial_German_Army_entering_burning_%C5%A0iauliai_in_1915.jpg Filename: God_de_Vader,_RP-P-1921-2144.jpg Name: God de Vader, RP-P-1921-2144.jpg Author: Rijksmuseum License: CC0 1.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:God_de_Vader,_RP-P-1921-2144.jpg Filename: Golgotha.jpg Name: Burned forest Ferch with snow 2021-02-07 06.jpg Author: Leonhard Lenz License: CC0 1.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Burned_forest_Ferch_with_snow_2021-02-07_06.jpg Filename: HolyLance.jpg Name: I09 525 Heilige Lanze.jpg Author: Falk2 License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:I09_525_Heilige_Lanze.jpg Filename: LastSessionOfTheCongress.jpg Name: Congres van Europa in de Ridderzaal. Overzicht, Bestanddeelnr 934-6838.jpg Author: Snikkers / Anefo License: CC0 1.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Congres_van_Europa_in_de_Ridderzaal._Overzicht,_Bestanddeelnr_934-6838.jpg Filename: SiegfriedBorchardt.jpg Name: Robert Crosbie (1849 - 1919).jpg Author: Robert Crosbie License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Robert_Crosbie_(1849_-_1919).jpg Filename: TempleOfSolomonBlackwood.jpg Name: Waolton Polyglot King Solomon Temple.jpg Author: John Webb and engraved by Wenceslaus Hollar License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Waolton_Polyglot_King_Solomon_Temple.jpg Filename: UpperFranceSecondDiluge.jpg Name: 1871-11-25, La Ilustración Española y Americana, Almería, Aspecto de la calle de Méndez Núñez durante la inundación.jpg Author: John Webb and engraved by Wenceslaus Hollar License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1871-11-25,_La_Ilustraci%C3%B3n_Espa%C3%B1ola_y_Americana,_Almer%C3%ADa,_Aspecto_de_la_calle_de_M%C3%A9ndez_N%C3%BA%C3%B1ez_durante_la_inundaci%C3%B3n.jpg Footnotes 1. The relationship between SCP-8343 and SCP-343 is currently unknown 2. Donovan, J., Ranken, R. (1947) "Theories About Origin of First and Second Hytoths." Internal SCP Foundation Publishing, pg 12-17. 3. In the original redaction of this tetragrammaton, it was reported that a rapid, sudden earthquake erupted in surrounding area as a brief demonstration of SCP-8343's anomalous capabilities. 4. From the science fiction novel of the same name, written by Olaf Stapledon. 5. Galante, M. (2004) "Extraterrestrial and Pre-Humanity Monotheistic Religions", Internal SCP Foundation Publishing, pg. 13-18. 6. With the exclusion of more polytheistic and pagan-like deities that are different from the conception of a singular, creator deity of the universe that is currently being recorded. 7. Despite the officially teological foundation of many governments on the basis of SCP-8343, this reason was oftenly cited by representatives of paranormal agencies to their respective governments to support the neutralization of SCP-8343. 8. The recovery of the Lance of Longinus is of high-priority, which was lost after its recovery from the Ahnenerbe Obskurakorps after the Seventh Occult War. 9. Another one of the Seven Keys of Solomon, necessary for the activation of the Rite of Solomon. Recovered archives of the Rite of Solomon suggested that the Ring of Solomon was either a ring or a brooch, but it was later confirmed but were separate but related items. Currently, the Dragon Brooch of Xia is safeguarded by the Global Occult Coalition as NT-3234-Kapala-Knickknack-Xidi. 10. Also known as the Holy Lance, used by Longinus to pierce through Jesus of Nazareth during his crucifixion. 11. Also known with its codename, Golgotha, in one of the British Isles of the North Sea. 12. Most of which were anomalous humanoids or humans which sided with SCP-8343, and were promptly executed because of being considered to betray humanity at the time. 13. In 1929 identified and classified as Group of Interest #016 ("Nälkä Cults"). 14. After the Seventh Occult War and its integration to the Global Occult Coalition, it is theorized that Cardinal Bonaventura was referring to The Holy Order of Knights Templar, Reformed. 15. A characteristic instance of this phenomenon were the Revolts of 1882 across Europe, from the affected individuals of Incident Second Deluge, who were near the backlash of SCP-8343’s shards. When they were transferred to the modified mental asylums, many of these revolted in multiple European countries from their awakening of their paranormal potential. |
SCP-8350 | esoteric-class | by DrApricus SCP-8350 — Public Affairs "If we bend world leaders to our side and make the world population doubt their own senses and reasoning, our sole, uncontested narrative will effectively become truth." ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8350 Level4 Containment Class: integrated Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8350 at a conference in Singapore, 2022. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8350 instances are employed and housed at Site-322, where the Department of Public Affairs is also headquartered. Description: SCP-8350 designates an endangered species of intelligent polymorphs capable of human speech, named the Apaseans, with less than 200 remaining members, individually designated as SCP-8350 instances. Apaseans are distinguished from similar species of shapeshifters by their unique memetic ability to deceive and persuade others on a large scale and with significant efficacy..When an SCP-8350 instance is performing this ability, regardless of its current form, bright green rings appear around their irises, which can be captured by cameras but are not often cognized by persons at that moment. Furthermore, SCP-8350 instances do not have a known default form and instead often assume the shape of a Homo sapiens or another common animal, primarily as a survival instinct. Geographical and historical evidence suggests SCP-8350 was once an intraterrestrial species and integrated into human civilization in the late Neolithic Era around 6,000 B.C.E., characterizing the ascent of SCP-8350 instances to the Earth's surface. The cause of this migration is largely unknown but generally thought to be the result of mass predation by other intraterrestrial species. As of January 2021, SCP-8350 comprises the Department of Public Affairs. NOTICE FROM THE RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION The following documents attached to the SCP-8350 file, including addenda, incident reports, and transcripts, have since been archived at the request of the Internal Arbitration Bureau.The Internal Arbitration Bureau (IAB) is an independent administrative authority within the Foundation that serves to resolve security breaches and prevent conflicts that may arise as a result of disputes between personnel or departments. for the protection of the Department of Public Affairs due to being outdated. However, the documents will remain available for viewing in this file for contextual purposes and understanding. — Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Dr. Klein Warden, Head of the Polymorphs Department, and Dir. Paul Lague of Site-322 stand in front a large mechanical device resembling that of a train engine. Warden: She's a beaut, isn't she? Lague: You gendered the big clacking machine? Warden: Some people have boats, some have cars, some have motorcycles, etcetera. This is my motorcycle, right here. Lague walks around the device and inspects it. Lague: Well, I will concede that it's one hell of a machine. I feel like Alan Turing right now. Warden: Wouldn't I be the Alan in this case? Lague: Whatever. It's a cool ass machine. Okay? Warden: Damn right. Have I ever told you how much I liked puzzles? Lague: You haven't, but I could infer that. Warden: This new species of polymorphs you brought to me is quite the puzzle. Lague: Yeah, I was throwing everything I could at them. Eventually, a friend of mine, Dr. Coix convinced me to get an expert to take a look. Not even he could crack it. "It" being how to contain these things. Warden gestures to the machine in front of them and nods. Warden: This girl right here's the solution to that puzzle. I call her Miracle. Lague: Miracle? You named the machine after your daughter? Warden: Well, this thing's name is actually the Miracrum Shaper, but Miracle is a little nickname I gave her. Lague: I presume it does exactly what I think it does. Warden: Stops polymorphs from shapeshifting? It should. Paratech isn't exactly a science, though. Lague: Have you tested it? Warden: Not yet. Lague: But it works, right? Dr. Coix wants to get this thing in the field as soon as possible. Warden: I'm like 98 percent sure it will. If it doesn't work, a whole lot of really talented engineers will be out of a job. What's Dr. Coix's deal anyways? Lague: You mean his deal with the Apaseans? He's been on the forefront of efforts to track them for a long time now. At this point, I'm convinced it's just inertia. Warden: Been there. But you realize that the possible applications of this machine extend beyond just containing the ah-pa-shawns— Lague: [interrupting] Ah-pay-shuns. Warden: Right. Anyway, the applications go beyond containing the uh-pay-shins— Lague: [interrupting again] Ah-pay-shuns. Warden: That's what I said, damnit. My point is that the applications of this machine could also be used to cover a whole wide array of polymorphs. It could be an essential piece of tech for my department. Lague: Uh, remind me again, how much did this one machine cost to build? Warden pauses. Warden: I see your point. Lague: We need to know it works before we start making more. There's an Apasean in custody as we speak who would be a great subject for a test run. Is Miracle ready to clip her wings? Warden: [grins] I'll have it inspected by Engineering really quick and then we can get this down to your site in the morning. Lague: Amazing. Addendum 1: Archived testing logs of the Miracrum Shaper machine in select cases of captured SCP-8350 instances. The Miracrum Shaper. To: [email protected], [email protected], +37 others From: [email protected] Subject: Update on Polymorphs and Miracrum This update is being sent to all Department of Polymorphs employees and staff working on the Miracrum Shaper project/other efforts aiming to further secure the detainment of polymorph anomalies. As of this morning, SCP-8350 (the Apaseans) has been declared the primary target of the Miracrum Shaper project and affiliated efforts. This is due to their mass disruption potential and highly deceptive nature. External disclosures of this project and herein Level-4 classified. The Head of the Department of Polymorphs, [email protected], and myself are to be notified of any and all developments regarding the species or capture of its members. For access to the item file, please see Dr. Warden, myself, or a RAISA official. — Dr. Anthony Coix, Site-322 Command Addendum 1.1: Interview between Dr. Klein Warden and a captured, unnamed SCP-8350 instance. TRANSCRIPT « BEGIN LOG » An SCP-8350 instance is contained within a 40-square-meter fenced grassland plot outside Site-112. Interviewer Dr. Warden approaches the fence, where the instance is waiting on the other side. The Miracrum Shaper has been activated to protect the area. Warden: Do you talk, too? SCP-8350: No. Warden: [rolling eyes] Clearly. SCP-8350: Shit. Wait, how did you know I could talk? Warden: You're an Apasean. Our task forces tracked you down in Turkey after receiving reports of a striped hyena rapidly changing shapes. SCP-8350: Listen here, it's harder than it sounds. Okay? Was I the only one caught? Warden: So, there were more of you in Turkey? SCP-8350: Shit! Warden: I work for an organization that has a keen interest in locating the rest of your species. We have no interest in hurting any of you. What can you tell me? SCP-8350: Excuse you? I'm not a narc! Warden: Okay, then. Do you have a name? SCP-8350 ponders. SCP-8350: A name? Never thought about that. I guess I never needed one. Wait, nope, I'm still not talking to you. I'm not a narc and I'm not a snitch! Warden: Where do you guys get your names? SCP-8350: I'm not talking to you. Warden: You said there were more of you in Turkey. How many? SCP-8350: Hey! I never said anything about those nine guys—shit! Warden: So there's nine more. Is that it? SCP-8350: Okay! You wore me down! Listen, you're not gonna find many of us anywhere. There are so few of us left in the world. Warden is taken aback. Warden: What do you mean? SCP-8350: In the last hundred years, only a handful of us survived. There's only a couple tens of us left. Warden: Do you all travel together? SCP-8350: Why would we? No, we travel in small clusters. If we need to find each other, we know how. Warden: How is that? SCP-8350: Aye! I'm already talking, don't get greedy. Warden: Okay, okay. SCP-8350: I don't know what to do, guy. Can you just let me out of here? Warden: That's not going to happen, I'm afraid. But if you keep talking, we can give you more comforting accommodations. Green rings slowly appear around SCP-8350's irises. SCP-8350: I want to go home, Klein. Warden: How the hell do you know my name? SCP-8350: You have a family. As do I. I just want to see them. Warden: You can see them if you tell us where to find them. SCP-8350: I already told you, I'm not a narc. Warden: Then tough shit. SCP-8350: Just lift the latch on the gate and let me free. I haven't hurt anyone. Warden: Again, that isn't happening. Warden opens the enclosure's gate, ostensibly without realizing. SCP-8350: You just did. Warden: What are you talking about? SCP-8350 leaps out the opened gate. Warden draws his firearm and pursues the instance. SCP-8350 ultimately outruns Warden and disappears. Warden: How the fuck did he open the gate? « END LOG » Addendum 1.2: Assessment of the effects the Miracrum Shaper has on various captured SCP-8350 instances. Instance # Notable Effects Containment Status 1 The instance was incapable of changing its total form. Small aspects like hair color, facial shape, ligament positions, and number of digits could be modified. BREACHED 2 The instance was intermittently incapable of changing any aspects of its appearance. Its memetic capabilities were unaffected, a finding that is universal across examined instances. BREACHED 3 The instance remained capable of accelerating and decelerating body movement, bodily systems, and natural chemical compound production, despite being incapable of changing its appearance. BREACHED 4 The instance was capable of deceiving monitoring personnel into believing its appearance was different than what it was in reality. BREACHED Addendum 1.3: Interview between Dr. Klein Warden, Head of the Polymorphs Department, and a captured SCP-8350 instance named Al Lias. TRANSCRIPT « BEGIN LOG » Lias: Who are you? Warden takes a seat across from Lias, who has been handcuffed to a table. The Miracrum Shaper is active, preventing Lias from shapeshifting. Warden: Name's Klein, and I hear that you go by Al. Let's get started, shall we? Lias: You honestly expect me to provide you with anything? Warden: If you want to leave this room, then yes. There are eight security officers in there… Warden points at the one-way glass window perpendicular to them both. Warden: And another six waiting outside. They are prepared to gun you down or myself if you pull any tricks with me. You will only be leaving this room on my terms. Is that understood? Lias: Yeah. Sure, man. Warden: We have reason to believe the Apaseans are critically endangered, contrary to our original estimate of several tens of thousands in the world. Lias: You're just now learning this? We engineered that number a while ago. Warden: You artificially magnified the size of your own species? Lias: Shapeshifters of all creeds are about the size of their game, Klein. You should know that. Warden: So, it's just plain vanity, then? Lias: More or less. It's mostly for our own survival. Humans and other mammals have a simple evolutionary strategy to scare off competition, and that is pumping yourselves up and looking bigger and more threatening than you actually are. Warden: And Apaseans are different? Lias: We and our competition are intellectual species. When you can take the shape of anyone and anything, size eventually ceases to be a fear factor. Numbers, however, can be a lot more intimidating. Sheer manpower. Warden: And so your species is in danger? Because there are so few of you around today. Lias: We'll outlast. Warden: And your kind are so confident in that you're willing to constantly poke the Foundation with a stick. Lias: [chuckles] We have been minding our business on the surface in secret for centuries. Then, you all come along and vow to lock us in cages. Who's the real one poking with a stick? Besides, if you want to talk to someone who knows anything about those conspiracies, you've got the wrong Apasean. Warden: Where would I find the right Apasean? Lias: It's not a far and wide search. You already have him in custody. « END LOG » Conclusion: The Miracrum Shaper machine has proven ineffective in the containment of SCP-8350. The project, and all allocated funds, have been relinquished to the Department of Polymorphs for research, development, and containment efforts of anomalies under their jurisdiction. Site-322 is actively looking into alternative means of containment. The subject identified by Al Lias in Addendum 1.3 has become a focal point of interest for the SCP-8350 research team and Site-322. An SCP-8350 instance named Bob Humanman is escorted into Dr. Anthony Coix's office by three Mobile Task Force operatives. Dr. Warden is sitting next to Coix. Humanman: Again, Dr. Coix? This is the second time this week. Coix: Hello, Mr. Humanman. How was the flight? Humanman: You mean where I was tied up, gagged, and blindfolded? Yeah, not the most pleasant experience. Coix: You can't be too careful. Humanman: Yeah, yeah. What is this about? Humanman looks at Warden. Humanman: And who is this clown? Coix: A friend of mine. He's been overseeing your containment. Humanman: Oh, so he's the reason I've been living like shit for the past month. You bet your ass that I'll have my way with him— Humanman approaches Warden but is restrained to his seat by the operatives. Warden: I'll remind you, Bob, that keeping you in check hasn't exactly been a cakewalk for me. Humanman: [sarcastically] Oh, boo-hoo. Is keeping someone hostage against their will a lot of work for you? Warden: If you listen to Dr. Coix, you might not have to be under my supervision much longer. Warden turns to Coix, who focuses his attention on Humanman. Coix: How would you like to work for the Foundation? Humanman titters. Humanman: Are you fucking crazy? No. Warden: I told you he would say no. Coix: Bob, hear me out, at least. Humanman: Pass. In what world would I do that? Coix: If you'd listen, you'd realize it is in your best interest. Humanman: Yeah, right. You have no leverage, you buy any intelligence we feed you, and you never see it coming, no matter how many times we do it. In what world is this not a gigantic trap? Coix: That's actually what I would like to discuss with you, and it's not a trap, I assure you. Humanman: I don't care. Coix: Well, you're in my office, so I will just talk. Your little stunts have used up a lot of our resources, I admit it, but they've also used up a lot of yours. The Apaseans can't keep playing this game of cat and mouse forever, and Mr. Humanman, you're running out of cards up your sleeve to play. So, I have come up with a solution that benefits both parties. You may even earn a sliver of freedom, to the dismay of my friend here. Coix gestures to Warden. Humanman: Yeah, yeah. Let's say that I accept your little deal. All goes well, and then you suddenly pull the rug or highlight some fine print or technicality, and—boom—I've fallen into your trap. Not again, Anthony! Not again! Coix: Mr. Humanman, I already have you in custody, and you are absolutely not slipping out of here again. I promise you that. No, I am serious, and you'll be interested if you hear me out. Humanman ponders for a moment. Humanman: Seeing as I don't have a choice, I suppose I'll bite. I have nothing better to do. Coix: All of your brothers and sisters turn themselves into the Foundation. Humanman snorts. Coix: You all work for our public relations office, and, in turn, we prevent your species from dying out. Humanman's face flushes. Coix: Yeah, we know. Your friends spilled the beans, and we're aware that your kind is bordering on being critically endangered. What was the figure? Three hundred? No, that was the high-ball estimate. Either way, the Apaseans dying out would be bad for the both of us, because I see a lot of potential in you guys. We have the resources necessary to ensure that is never a concern for any of you ever again. Humanman: I'm sorry, and all you want us to do for you is public outreach? Warden: [interjecting] And to stay out of any goddamn trouble. Coix leans back in his chair. Coix: Do you know how many Apaseans we have captured and lost? Our recovery and containment efforts have never been in higher swing, and even when we strip away your ability to change form, you slip right through our fingers. To actually contain you all would be a security nightmare. So, we instead employ you and put all of this to rest. Because honestly, who better for the task of handling public affairs, essentially tricking people, than the only people that can trick us? Humanman: So, why exactly am I here? Like, me specifically. Coix: I want you to head the department. Humanman: Are you stupid? Why? Coix: Because I know very well that you only got caught again because you wanted to be. You're only here by your own volition. You're an ass, and you just want to see people trip over themselves, but I also know you care about your brothers and sisters. All I'm asking of you is for you to shift away from deceiving us and instead deceive the world. I know you're all about the size of your game. Humanman: Tempting, tempting. Coix: You're stuck here anyway, so you might as well make yourself useful. Otherwise, Dr. Warden can escort you back to your containment chamber. Humanman is silent for a moment. Humanman: I'll see what the others think. If they're in, I'm in. Coix: Good. Coix extends his arm to shake Humanman's hand, who does not reciprocate. Addendum 2: Excerpt from the Department of Public Affairs introductory. Public Affairs Department (Introduction) Est. 1999, Shaping Collective Perception The importance of having a proficient public affairs office cannot be overstated. Any organization must maintain a positive public appearance—unless, of course, having a public appearance at all is the exact opposite of your organization's goal. The Foundation is one such exception. Within an organization that regularly confronts malevolent gods and world-eating horrors alike, the greatest threats are those threatening to lift the Veil. There is no greater danger to the Foundation than having its operations known to the world. It is paramount that the Foundation and all things anomalous are kept entirely hidden from the general public. Many people believe that public affairs offices are meant to inform the public and keep them in the loop, to be transparent and honest with the world, to maintain a facade of trustworthiness. In truth, this is a misconception. The goal of public affairs, even outside the Foundation, is to keep the boiling masses to a simmer through generality and deceit. Of course, that works for a typical corporation. However, more extreme measures are necessary for an atypical corporation such as the Foundation. The only way to protect normalcy as we know it is to manufacture what is true and manipulate what is not in the eyes of the public. Otherwise, the world falls apart. — Martin Senatore, Former Director of Public Affairs Veritas est fluida. This is our motto, which is Latin for "truth is fluid." The Department of Public Affairs exercises this idea in everything it does, from marketing to campaigning to managing Foundation fronts, particularly those affiliated with the media. The department is responsible for everything pertaining to disinformation and maintaining the Foundation's ideal public image, which is having no public image. We cover up the Foundation's discrepancies and public incidents and filter every faucet through which information flows, from print to television, to radio, to social media. The Department of Public Affairs has overseen over 1,800 disinformation campaigns in the 25 years since our conception. We were preceded by the Public Relations Bureau, which was preceded by the Office of Disinformation, which was preceded by the Narrative Orchestration Commission, which was preceded by the Ministry of Information. The Foundation's central office for public relations has seen more iterations than any other department. So, what sets us apart from our predecessors? None of them have had a remotely similar impact on public perception. Never before has it been as easy to spread information as today, nor has it ever been easier to convince an ordinary person to believe something untrue. The widespread adoption of the internet has unlocked the ability for anyone and everyone to broadcast to a global audience. You can imagine how a department such as ours could exploit such technology. The chances are that what you think you know about the Foundation is but smoke and mirrors. You're welcome. [Excerpt from "Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire: An Introduction to Public Affairs and Outreach"] Dir. Paul Lague and Dr. Martin Senatore chat in the Site-322 break room. Lague: You don't know. Maybe it'll be a rousing success after all. Ant is calculated; he's careful. Senatore: It's a fucking joke. He's being a lunatic. Lague: I have my reservations, but I also have full faith— Coix enters and pours himself a glass of coffee by the coffee machine. Coix: Don't let me interrupt. As you two were. Neither speaks. Coix: Ah, you guys are talking about me. I see. Lague: Ant, don't be silly. We're talking about the new, incoming hires, not you specifically. Coix shifts his attention to Senatore. Coix: In which case, please share your concerns, Martin. Senatore: There are just a lot of risks with this pet project of yours that I'm afraid haven't been thoroughly evaluated. Coix: You're afraid that I, of all people, have not been thorough enough? Go on. Senatore: That's not what I mean. I'm just saying, for one, Apaseans are pathological liars. Even you know that. That's what they're known for! We have been in conflict with them for years. Second, you're entrusting some asshole with my department, sir! Lague: [smirks] Technically, not your department anymore. Coix: So, Martin, you have an issue with the new department head? Senatore: Of course I do. His name is Bob fucking Humanman. What kind of a name is that? Coix: I have been tracking the Apaseans for years. I know what they value, I know what makes them tick, and what we found out in the Miracrum trials was the Hail Mary we needed. This deal is in their best interests, and they know that. For that, I trust them to do their jobs. Lague shrugs his shoulders and turns to look at Senatore. Senatore: [sighs] Alright, fine. I'm still mighty skeptical, but they're certainly an eccentric case, and eccentric cases call for eccentric solutions. If you believe the Apaseans are what the department needs, then I stand with you. Coix: Thank you, Martin. Senatore: But, if I may, why did you choose Bob Humanman as the director? He's not exactly up to the task. Lague: Actually, I second Marty on that. Bob's incompetent, if not a sociopath. With the history you two have, you still want him to head a department? Senatore: I mean, how can you even be sure Mr. Humanman can follow basic protocol? Are we just supposed to take your word for it? Remember what happened when the Polymorphs Department was handling him? Coix: Martin, if you're so worried about this, how about you supervise the new director for a few weeks and make sure he acclimates well to his new position? Senatore: Wait, no. I don't think that's necessary. Coix: No, no, you're right. Someone needs to make sure he is up to the task and stays in line, and you have the experience. So, you'll be supervising him for the foreseeable future until he has your full support. Senatore buries his head in his hands. Coix: This is a big leap, I admit, but it will pan out for us in the long haul—I know that much. Not only will this put the Foundation's conflict with the Apaseans to bed, but it will be our biggest step in communication technology and propaganda since the internet. It's genius, really. Lague: Ant, you know you have my support. Coix: By the way, I should be the first to tell both of you that this Public Affairs office makeover stays under wraps for the time being. Understood? You'll receive a memo from the Internal Arbitration Bureau, but I thought I'd make it clear so you don't spill the beans before then. Nobody else knows we've already swapped out all the staff. Lague: Wait, did we do that already? Coix: Two weeks ago, actually. You would know if you read the briefs I sent you. Lague: Ant, you send me way too many damn papers. Coix: The new hires have been working under the guise of the old staff to make sure the transition is as smooth as possible. Senatore: I wasn't informed about this. I even met with the a temporary appointee filling my position. Who was that guy? Coix: Bob. You couldn't even tell, could you? Addendum 3: Audio transcript from Director Paul Lague's office security camera. TRANSCRIPT « BEGIN LOG » Bob Humanman (pictured left), Director of Public Affairs. Humanman enters Lague's office. Humanman: A word, please. Lague: Oh hey, Bob. Yes, take a seat. Humanman takes a seat across from Lague, who begins spinning around in circles in his chair. Humanman: Can I get one of those spinny chairs? Lague: One of these? Sure. But anyways, how are things? Humanman: You humans just continue to amaze me. Did you know that old people on Facebook will believe literally anything? Lague: Yeah, I buy that. Humanman: The department barely even has to touch that place. You should hear the stuff they believe about vaccines! They are so far gone from reality. Lague: It sounds like you've adjusted well in your first few months. Humanman: Sure, except for the fact that Matthew guy is still breathing on my neck all the time. Is this whole supervision thing necessary? Lague: Matthew? Do you mean Marty? Humanman: I mean, I get the apprehension and all, but I appointed my vice head, my advisors, a factotum, division leads, and all that nonsense within the first month. On top of that, everything has been running perfectly since. No major incidents to speak of yet. The transition has been smooth like butter. Lague: No incidents… yet? Humanman: I'm being what people call "cautiously optimistic." Lague: [exhales] Of course. That aside, I honestly had my doubts when Anthony brought you in, but my mind has since been changed. Humanman: I appreciate that. Oh, and I've been giving the files and anomalies at this site a gander like you suggested, and apparently, there's this freaky vending machine you guys have lying around. Do you mind— Lague: [interrupting] Okay, no. Why don't we skip to why you're here? Humanman: Right, right. I want to talk about the department. For starters, I want to know how long I, and by extension my whole team, is going to be on that Marty guy's leash. Lague: He was assigned to oversee you until he was satisfied with your leadership. It's a lot of power… yadda, yadda, yadda. It was Ant's call, you get it. He's hardly impeded your operations to my knowledge. Humanman: So, you still don't trust me after all. Lague: I never said that! Speaking as your boss, the productivity boom in your department is nothing to scoff at. It's impressive, really, as if you all were born for this line of work. Humanman: Can we talk about my proposition then? Lague: You mean the one you sent Ant in the form of a Google Slides presentation? Sure. What about it? Humanman: I presume he forwarded it to you? Lague: He did, yes. But unfortunately, as a director with responsibilities and whatnot, there is a big likelihood it would get killed by my superiors if I signed off on it right now. It needs to be assessed first. Humanman: My department has been configuring it and vetting it for over a week. What's there to assess? Lague: I mean by a third party, by the relevant authorities that could implement this. Your proposal wants to open up a few hundred new locations, which is totally plausible, but it would also allow the department to get in bed with world leaders and governments. Humanman: Asia alone has almost 5 billion people. If we coordinate with the governments of China, Indonesia, Pakistan, India, and etcetera, the Foundation's influence over the international media would not just extend to the tens of millions and hundreds of millions as you said, but to the billions—and in only a matter of minutes rather than weeks or months. Lague: You don't have to pitch it to me, Bob. You have to pitch it to the people who would be making it happen. You'll need the vouches from the other departments and divisions that would see this through. Humanman: You sound like Dr. Coix. Lague: Quiet. Listen, all of this is to say that it's easier said than done, and you're going to have to get your hands dirty in the ring. Humanman: What is there you could do to help? Lague: Not much. After all, this is an inter-department and international matter. But what I can do is put through a recommendation to RAISA to have the proposal assessed. It's the quickest way to collect vouches. Humanman: You keep talking about vouches, but vouches for what? Lague: For when you take it to the O5, of course. « END LOG » To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Proposal No. 9544 Assessment Scheduled Hello, Mr. Humanman. I am messaging you on behalf of Site Director Lague to inform you that his request for an assessment of Proposal Number 9544 to the Records and Information Security Administration has been approved. The Administration will be sending representatives of the Engineering Division and the Oversight Committee to the Public Affairs Department headquarters on Tuesday. Shower beforehand, be cordial, be respectful, and do not make any inappropriate comments, so no sex jokes. Understood? — Dr. Anthony Coix, Site-322 Command To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Re: Proposal No. 9544 Assessment Scheduled Fine. Bob Humanman and Susan Lastname, also an SCP-8350 instance and the Chief Advisor of the Public Affairs Department, talk in passing inside the department headquarters control room. Susan Lastname, Chief Advisor of Public Affairs. Humanman: Your job is advising, right? Advise me. Lastname: What is it now, boss? I'm about to meet with the media team to discuss the new PayPal scandal. Involves an SCP. Humanman: Which one? Can I guess? How about the goblin with a drinking problem. Lastname: What? No. What are you—nevermind. What is it you need? Walk and talk. Lastname, carrying folders and papers, rushes out the control room with Humanman following. Humanman: Remember that proposal you and the team here helped me write? Lastname: The one that you insisted on revising ad nauseum to the point nobody in their right mind would approve it? Yeah, I remember. I thought you hated bureaucracy. Humanman: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyways, the ol' director is having it assessed by some fucking engineers and a fucking committee. Lastname: I take it you aren't happy about that? Humanman: People aren't supposed to compromise. I'm used to always getting my way. Humanman and Lastname stop walking and pause in the hallway. Lastname: As am I, boss, but that doesn't fly here. Outside, you tell someone to heel, and they heel—that's why the Foundation hired us. But here, they do not heel. Humanman: Not easily, Susan. Not easily. In any regard, what am I going to do about the assessment? Lastname: It should be pretty straightforward, no? Did the Site Director give you any advice? Humanman: Something about showing my hands and being a corridor. I skimmed the email. Lastname: You mean being cordial? Humanman: That would make a lot more sense. Lastname: I would strongly advise that, yes. If you want to get anywhere with this proposal, you need to act like a boss, boss. This isn't just about you, but our department and our people. Humanman: I know that. Lastname: Have you looked into candidates for the new positions that will open if the proposal is seen through? Humanman: Shit! Am I supposed to have people ready? Lastname: Don't worry. Your factotum, Al Lias, and I have already been working on it. We've drawn up a list of possible regional directors for the department now that we're physically expanding abroad. Humanman: Oh, sick! Okay, we'll unpack that later. Lastname: Good idea. We'll also discuss communications management and other nooks and crannies then. Now, I'm running late, so is there anything else? Humanman: Nope. Go figure out the deal with that alcoholic troll. Lastname: [exasperated] That's—okay, I'm going. Addendum 4: Logs from the assessment of Proposal No 9544. PROPOSAL No 9544 Dept. P.A. Expansion Summary: Proposal No 9544 will add 675 new sites globally to host the Public Affairs Department and its operations. SCP-8350 instances currently on payroll will be tasked with the recruitment of the necessary employees required for operations at the new sites to run smoothly. New cover-up locations, hosting facilities, and department offices per the proposal. Addendum 4.1: Assessment by representative of the Engineering Division, Philip Jaroslav. TRANSCRIPT « BEGIN LOG » Jaroslav and Humanman arrive separately at a retired Foundation front business in Nicaragua. Humanman: Hey, man. Jaroslav: As you were, Mr. Humanman The two pause. Humanman: Uh, so what's up with the freaky-deaky building? Jaroslav: [gestures to the building] This is why the Engineering Division is willing to hear out your proposal. Our operations have been stretched very thin with similar recent expansions being approved for other departments. Fortunately for you, the Foundation has been slow in demolishing offices that were constructed for now-defunct programs and departments. There are several hundred still standing. Humanman: So, we'll be getting leftovers? Jaroslav: No, we'd be refurbishing these locations. Humanman: Oh. I was looking forward to working out of a dark, rundown facility like in the spy thrillers and crime dramas. Jaroslav: [rolling eyes] Anyway. We have also identified a plethora of running Foundation fronts that Public Affairs could operate out of. Mobile sites, if you will. Humanman: See, now we're talking. Very the Continental. Jaroslav: I will presume that is some popular culture reference. In any regard, the mobile sites and refurbished facilities easily meet your request of 675 facilities. Humanman: Without spreading your staff much thinner? Jaroslav: Not necessarily. My higher-ups believe that the funds that would be allocated to the Engineering Division for these new locations is inadequate compensation. Humanman: Inadequate compensation? You mean you want more money? Jaroslav: Yes. Are you familiar with a quid-pro-quo? Humanman: Yes. Jaroslav: Our funding has continued to see cuts for the past few quarters. If you can see to it that the Engineering Division is funded justly through your proposal, not just for the new sites but also to recuperate the cuts we've incurred, then you will have our vouch. Humanman: And how would I do that? Jaroslav: Affix a new provision to your proposal or something. Legislatures do it all the time. Or you can negotiate with the Financial Department's budgeting team and do another quid-pro-quo with them. Humanman: And I would convince them… how? Jaroslav: I think you know where this is going. Humanman: Oh. Jaroslav: You know our terms. Now, would you like a tour of the facility? We've yet to refurbish it, obviously, but I think you'd like to know what you'll be working with. Humanman: Of course. « END LOG » Support Status: PENDING/UNCONFIRMED Addendum 4.2: Assessment by representative of the Oversight Committee, Oma Fran. TRANSCRIPT « BEGIN LOG » Humanman meets with Fran in her office at Site-57. Fran: Hello, Mr. Humanman. Humanman: Heyo, what's go—er, how are you? Fran: I'm alright. Shall we begin? This shouldn't take too long. Humanman: Thank God. Fran: First, I know that the geography of these new proposed locations is out of my realm of scrutiny, but per your proposal, at least one location would open in Afghanistan, Haiti, and Yemen respectively. Humanman: Yes, we want all of our bases covered. Fran: To be frank, we don't necessarily have a good relationship with the governments of those countries. I'm not Foreign Relations, so I'm not one to comment on the section in your proposal about coordination with local governments, but I have concerns about establishing a propaganda manufacturer staffed by Foundation employees in those regions. Humanman: Applied Force, Alchemy, Tactical Theology, Antiquity, and Atypical Persuasion all operate in those regions. Fran: Yes, but those are departments with armed personnel and treaties with the Yemeni, Afghan, and Haitian governments. I can't imagine a department focused on running contradictory propaganda reaching a similar agreement. Humanman: And what if we did get them to reach an agreement with us? Fran: How would you go about achieving that? Humanman: We simply use our persuasive abilities on them. Fran: Are you suggesting you and your staff would anomalously manipulate government leaders to achieve the goals of your proposal? Humanman: I was told I would have to get my hands dirty. Humanman and Fran sit in brief silence. Fran: Well, damn. That just might work. Humanman: Will the Oversight Committee vouch? Fran: Using deceptive tactics to sway powerful entities in our favor? That sounds right up our alley. I'll put in a good word to the chairwoman. Humanman: Thank you so much. « END LOG » Support Status: IN AFFIRMATION Susan Lastname and Dude (no recorded last name), also an SCP-8350 instance and public affairs officer, meet with Humanman in his office. Dude, Captain of the Public Affairs Print Division. Dude: Sweet pad, boss! Humanman: Pretty awesome, right? I even get my own spinny chair. Dude: Is that why you insist on taking the form of a human? Their bodies are so awkward, though. Humanman: It's a lot more comfortable when you remove the organs and genitals. Dude: See, this is why you're the head honcho around here. Humanman: Was there something you two wanted to see me about? Humanman turns his attention to Lastname. Humanman: Susan, you're awfully quiet. Hit me! Lastname: Uh, okay? Lastname slaps Humanman across the face. Humanman: Damnit, Susan! It's an expression! Lastname: Sorry. Um, we're here to update you on the team's progress with the project. Humanman: The ordeal with France or the thing about the McDonald's reptile meat? Dude: I'm sorry, the McDonald's what now? Lastname: [rolling eyes] Boss, the one about the ive-oh-fay ommand-cay. Dude: Bless you. Humanman: Well, how's it going, Susan? Hit m—I mean, share with me. Lastname: You have a meeting with the O5 at two o'clock tomorrow. O5-1 will be in attendance. He's who you'll need to convince. Humanman: I still think we should've gone with the codenames. Lastname: [sighs] Again, boss, the ones you suggested were completely inappropriate. Humanman: Whatever, whatever. Do we have the doppelgängers? Lastname: All six of them, boss. Humanman: Six? I thought we needed seven for a majority. Lastname: The seventh one had complications, but we'll be fine without them. There is a pause. Humanman: Uh, okay? And where are the six originals? Lastname: We told them they had won an all-expenses-paid free vacation. As we speak, they're on a first-class flight to the Bahamas, where they will enjoy a week-long stay at a five-star resort followed by a three-day luxury cruise. Humanman and Dude: Lucky. Lastname: Boss, you must bring your A-game tomorrow. Okay? Humanman: I always bring my A-game. What did I tell you? This is all just a bunch of bureaucratic shit. All we need is for Big—I mean, O5-1 to sign off. Lastname: As your Chief Advisor, it's my job to ensure everything goes smoothly. So, none of your antics, don't be sarcastic, don't play coy, and stay on topic. Humanman: [rolling eyes] You sound like Paul. Lastname: It's really simple, boss. Just take everything you would normally do and do the exact opposite. If you screw this up, we're toast. Dude: Someone said toast? Humanman: [groaning] Ugh, fine. Dude: And make sure to complement the guy's hair. I assume he has awesome hair. Lastname: Lastly, don't listen to Dude whatsoever. Now, where is your suit? Humanman: I'm supposed to have a suit? Addendum 5: Minutes of Bob Humanman's meeting with the O5 command. TRANSCRIPT Bob Humanman (pictured far left) speaking before the O5 command. O5-1 is pictured top center-left. « BEGIN LOG » Mobile Task Force Alpha-1 operatives remove Humanman's blindfold and show him to his seat. The Miracrum Shaper has been activated to protect the O5's conference room and prevent infiltrations after the meeting has begun. Humanman: Again with the blindfold. O5-1: Shall we begin? Humanman: Yes, yes. Thank you for taking the time to have me. O5-1: Of course, Mr. Humanman. I've heard a lot about you. Humanman: And I've heard a lot about you. O5-1 raises an eyebrow. O5-1: Have you now? From whom? Humanman: No, sorry, I mean, I haven't actually heard anything about you. I was trying to reciprocate the compliment. I, uh… Humanman looks at O5-1's bald head. Humanman: I like what you've done with your hair. O5-1: Excuse me? A few O5 lower their heads, one rubbing her eyebrows. Humanman: Never mind. Y'know what? I'll start with what I've prepared. O5-1: Good idea, Mr. Humanman. As the proponent of this proposal, why don't you introduce it. Humanman: If you look at the first reference, you'll see a copy of my proposal, number 9-5-4-4. O5-1 opens the Manila folder in front of him, and the other O5 follow suit and open theirs. Humanman: In 2020, a proposal was approved to add 1,000 new locations for the Department of Culinary Anomalies. O5-6: To be fair, a lot of cooking goes on in the world. Lots of anomalies. Humanman: What my proposal seeks to do is bring the total facility count for my department, Public Affairs, up to 700 in total. In my opinion, the needs of my department and what it is aiming to achieve are magnitudes more important than what is done by culinary anomalies. Comparing divisions alone, we have the News Broadcasting Division, the Public Office Division, the Motion Picture Division, and the Social Media Division to their Dry-Heat Cooking Division and Moist-Heat Cooking Division. It should be a no-brainer. O5-1: You are correct, and if it was Senatore sitting in your chair, this would be a no-brainer. Boom! The department can have those locations. But you're not Senatore, are you? Humanman: I could be. I could also be Abe Lincoln or any president really. I could be a dinosaur, a bird, or even a half-dinosaur, half-bird hybrid. O5-9: Boss—I mean, Mr. Humanman, I think you're missing the point. O5-1: Thank you, Nine. Mr. Humanman, what I mean to say is that you and I have no history nor rapport, and I have no reason to see this through. In fact, I've heard you were quite the difficulty for one of our Department Heads in the past. I would be willing to approve the new locations if the Engineering Division vouched for it, which they have yet to, but even so, that is only a fraction of the expansion. Humanman: I know, I know. The proposal also seeks to expand our communications with world leaders, governments, and international organizations. If you turn to the third and fourth references… The O5 briefly shuffle through the papers in their folders. Humanman: You'll see the Assistant Director of the Foreign Affairs Office and the Chairwoman of the Oversight Committee have respectively vouched for this proposal. Additionally, I have the support of my superior, Site Director Lague. O5-1: Those are mighty credible, Mr. Humanman, but I have also been informed that the evermore International Relations Bureau refused to vouch for your proposal. Humanman: Are international relations and foreign affairs not literal synonyms? O5-1: There is a divide on where our various agencies stand on your proposal. Humanman: You ask ten doctors what's wrong with a patient, there is going to be at least one dissenter. The fact of the matter is that this organization maintains normalcy through control, and there is no stronger means than propaganda. Public Affairs has made great use of the resources provided to it, and the Foundation has the capability to expand those resources, all to its own benefit. O5-7 nods his head. O5-7: I agree with the proponent's notion. O5-1 glances at O5-7 and then shifts his attention back to Humanman. O5-1: I'll reiterate that we have no rapport, you and I. Why should I, and by extension, this council, trust you in this expansion? Humanman: In this book I read recently, the authoritarian state controls its people by forcing two contradicting narratives on them simultaneously, doublethink. The Foundation currently operates similarly when it needs to clean up its messes and lick its wounds. It's easier said than done to convince a person to trust you over their own senses, especially in a day and age where everyone and everything is on camera and under perpetual scrutiny. O5-1: And you aim to..? O5-1 trails off inquisitively. Humanman: Eradicate the need for a competing narrative altogether. Several O5 lean forward in their chairs. Humanman: If we bend world leaders to our side and make the world population doubt their own senses and reasoning, our sole, uncontested narrative will effectively become truth. O5-1: Is this a guarantee? Humanman: Only once we have a location in every country, state, and territory and a communications line with every minister, president, monarch, emperor, chancellor, and premier in the world. The O5 nod along with Humanman. O5-2 leans into O5-1 and whispers in his ear. After a moment, he sits back upright. O5-1: Mr. Humanman. Humanman: Yes? O5-1: Two has informed me of a development with your proposal. The Communications Director of the Engineering Division has offered his vouch. Congratulations. Humanman: Does that mean the department is getting its expansion? O5-1: The council and I wish to iron out any further details and concerns, but after that, if we are satisfied, I will move your proposal to a vote. Remainder of transcript abridged. « END LOG » PROPOSAL No 9544 VOTE YAY NAY ABSTAIN O5-1 X O5-2 X O5-3 X O5-4 X O5-5 X O5-6 X O5-7 X O5-8 X O5-9 X O5-10 X O5-11 X O5-12 X O5-13 X Lastname meets Humanman in Site-01's entrance block with Alpha-1 operatives on patrol. Humanman: What time is it? Lastname: Almost eight. You were in there for a really long time. You're still breathing, so I assume it went as planned? Humanman: Like clockwork. The meeting got out after like 30 minutes, and the rest of the time I spent chatting up the people in the site. It's not every day you get to be inside the big oh-one. Lastname: Fun. It's a shame then that we'll both be amnesticized on the train.. Humanman: Oh, I don't care what anyone in there said, as long as I made a good impression on them. It never hurts to have powerful people on your side. Lastname: And now you're starting to think like a true bureaucrat. Humanman: I don't want to hear it. Though, I just realized, what are we going to do about the doppelgängers? They're still in there. Lastname: They'll switch out in a day or two when the originals get in, just like the first time around. But, if I may, how did you know any of that would work, the whole switch-a-roo scheme? Humanman: Well, the O5 and everyone else we had to go through were so convinced that we were powerless against them that they let their guard down. When you want to see things in black and white, like whatever the hell memetics are, the gray will slip through. Lastname: The gray being? Humanman: [chuckles] Something like an all-expenses paid vacation. They didn't even expect us to have people in there already. By the time the meeting started, that mirror crumbs thing already locked our guys into their forms. Lastname: If it's all that easy, why be subservient to them? Why work for them? Humanman: Our goal is the same as theirs, is it not? The Foundation wants to maintain normalcy by staying in the shadows, and we've practically been doing just that for two hundred years. Together, we are strengthened. Lastname: I suppose when you frame it like that. But, all of that aside, there's one thing I'm still confused about, boss. Humanman: And what's that? Lastname: One of our guys on the inside said the Foreign Affairs Office backed our proposal, but they never even assessed it. How did you get the assistant director to vouch for it? Humanman: I called in a favor. Lastname: A favor? For what? Humanman: Well, it turns out everyone needs something. That's all I'll say. Dr. Coix and Dr. Warden appear around the corner, and Humanman and Lastname halt. Humanman: Hello, Dr. Coix, Dr. Warden. Warden: Oh, it's you again. Coix: Relax, Klein. Anyways, Mr. Humanman, I hear the proposal went through. Congratulations. Warden: I'll second that congratulations. You've come a long way, you bastard. Humanman: Why thank you. Did word travel that quickly? Coix: Site-322 command received a memo about it shortly after. Dr. Warden and I are here to see Recruitment about the new staffing. Humanman: Well, the department is about to get a lot bigger, huh? Do you think I'm up to the task? Coix: I was right about you taking over the department to begin with. Was I not? Humanman: I never thanked you for that, by the way. Coix: Please, you don't have to. It would be deeply unsettling coming from you, trust me. Humanman: You're right. So, what's next? Coix: What's next? You keep doing what you're doing. Humanman: Just with a lot more people in a lot more places. We Apaseans will have to teach the new hires how to take on our abilities. Coix tilts his head in confusion. Coix: It can be taught? I didn't even know that was possible. Humanman: Of course. It's like learning a language. Coix: [clenching teeth] Great. Warden rubs his eyebrows. Warden: That's just lovely. Humanman does not reply. He instead extends his arm to Coix, and they shake hands. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8350" by DrApricus, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8350. 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: warning.png Author: Original by djkaktus Edits by DrApricus License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: SCP-5935, SCP-8350 Filename: Keystone_Symposia_2022_Neurocircuitry_of_Social_Behavior.jpg Author: Rickinasia License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: Wikimedica Commons Filename: RAISA_LIGHTLOGO.png Author: EstrellaYoshte License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: Basalt Theme Page Filename Train_Engine.jpg Author: Pawel Biernacki License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: Flickr Filename: dpa.png Author: DrApricus License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: SCP-8350 Filename bob.jpg Author: Mike Mozart/Jeepers Media License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: Flickr Filename Woman_with_glasses_and_Women%27s_suit_2.jpg Author: ukieiri-999636 License: Public Domain Source: Wikimedia Commons Filename: palogo.png Author: DrApricus License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: SCP-8350 Filename BlankMap-World-v2.svg Author: Harbin License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source: Wikipedia Commons Filename Churro_01.jpg Author: Dennis Harper License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: Flickr Filename: Meeting_with_the_Board_of_Directors_of_NAITA.jpg Author: repmobrooks, Edits by DrApricus License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: Wikipedia Commons |
SCP-8357 | safe | Item #: SCP-8357 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8357 is to remain stored within Site-357 indefinitely. SCP-8357, in storage Description: SCP-8357 is the head of a terracotta figurine measuring 36x35x20mm. It is heart-shaped. Trace remnants of pigment remain on the object's face, with dry streaks trailing down from the eyes. Forehead markings indicate the absence of a headdress. A fractured collar and earspool remain. At time of discovery, accession records matching object's appearance were present within 73% of all museums in the global north. Anomalous interference presumed due to timeline improbabilities. All records erased without issue. Discovery: Acquisition records lost or nonexistent. See up to date provenance below. Mexico. Date unknown. It was broken off by the neck; Now we have it. Last Updated: 2nd January 1998 |
SCP-8359 | keter | The truth is out there, if you know where to look. close Info X SCP-8359: 3am Author: JakdragonX, CompleteIndie The truth is out there if you know where to look. Originally written by JakdragonX, completed by CompleteIndie as part of The Spring Cleaning Event. NOTICE FROM THE RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION Site-119's Department of Cyberanomalous Investigations and Security (DCIS) is currently investigating possible concerns with SCP-8359 after several changes in its anomalous properties were detected. Until said investigations conclude, all information revealed by this anomaly is to be considered misinformation and all interactions with SCP-8359 must be prohibited indefinitely. — Maria Jones, RAISA Director ITEM #: SCP-8359 OBJECT CLASS: Keter/Thaumiel SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: SCP-8359 is contained within an air-gapped Object Containment Unit (OCU) located in Sublevel 14 of Site-119. The anomaly remains physically quarantined on a web server owned by Homloch Web Hosting, as all attempts to migrate or clone SCP-8359 elsewhere have been unsuccessful thus far. Automated programs are to continuously monitor SCP-8359 for irregular activity or sudden anomalous manifestations. In the event that said activity is detected, standard online containment procedures are to be enacted. Total deletion of SCP-8359-related phenomena is prioritized over isolating and/or discrediting the flagged postings. If none of the aforementioned can be completed successfully, then immediate escalation procedures, up to and including mass-amnesticization, has been authorized. Additionally, all Site-119 IT-related equipment is to be inspected and updated regularly to prevent the likelihood of intrusion or cyberattack by potential threat actors. The containment specialist of SCP-8359 is Senior Researcher Anderson Janssen. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8359 is an internet forum loosely parodying Parawatch.net found at the web address https://unxplainedxtranormal.cu/truths, established in November 2021. Any post made to the forum board between 03:00 to 04:00 local time will extensively detail the name, location, and description of a random anomaly, typically bearing the following message at the end: The truth is out there if you know where to look. — X. There is no obvious source of SCP-8359’s information, nor any reason for its anomalous effects being limited to one hour per day. The anomalies described by SCP-8359 include those both unknown and known to the Foundation, often possessing greater detail than current database records. The anomalous effect manifests after a drafted post is submitted to the forum. The post is then immediately edited with the anomalous information, presumably by PoI-8359, "X."1 Prior to containment, the public nature of SCP-8359 led to several incidents in which the general public became aware of, and subsequently came into contact with, uncontained anomalous phenomena. Fortunately, the phrasing of SCP-8359 instances regarding Foundation-held anomalies did not contain enough information to trigger a ßK-Class "Lifted Veil" scenario. It is also believed that all information supplied by SCP-8359 is factual and useful to the Foundation, as all posts regarding currently documented anomalies have been found to be extremely accurate. At Dr. Janssen's suggestion, SCP-8359 is pending Keter/Thaumiel secondary classification, due to its nature as a tool to detect anomalies. ADDENDUM ONE — SCP-8359 POST: Described below is a summarized example of an SCP-8359 post, written on 06/02/2022 at roughly 3:19 A.M. The post itself quickly became popular and was subsequently shared throughout different social media platforms including Reddit and Twitter, prompting Foundation intervention and the amnesticization of ██,███ civilians. The post was later deleted by automated Foundation webscrubbers, after having been seen by 1.2k users, before shared posts and articles. Good morning, fellow truthers. The world may try to DECEIVE us, but we see with open eyes. Another paranormal discovery was made today. And she's quite the troublemaker too. For all intents and purposes she is a ghost. Young, fearless, and quite the lonely little girl. Better be careful with this one my friends, lest she tries to kill you with her online charm. Big Gov thinks they have little miss Maddie UNDER CONTROL, but do you really think you can contain someone that doesn't truly exist? Stay frosty, believers. And remember, we are always being lied to. The truth is out there if you know where to look. — X. ADDENDUM TWO — RECOVERY: Following further postings on the UnXplainedXtranormal's message board, the immediate containment of SCP-8359 was escalated as an utmost priority. Initial attempts to bring the website offline through Denial-of-Service (DoS) and Distributed-Denial-of-Service (DDoS) attacks were tried, although they were not successful in preventing SCP-8359 posts from manifesting. Foundation personnel then attempted containment via seizure of the physical server hosting SCP-8359 from Homloch Web Hosting. However, upon bringing the server to Site-119 for testing, all attempts to connect or directly interface with SCP-8359 resulted in the following. ERROR CODE #06494: "i never negotiate with terrorists" The next day, another post was made by PoI-8359 on the forum board, at roughly 3:55 A.M. Despite the physical SCP-8359 server being offline, the post itself was seen by no less than 2.1k unique viewers, all of which are currently under investigation: Fellow truthers, I bring forth a troubling message. It seems that Big Gov has finally got to us. While we knew that such a day might come, I was hoping we would atleast have some more time together. They have already tried SILENCING us once earlier last night, but I have no doubt that they ran into some unforeseen trouble. Sorry about that, btw : ) Today, our paranormal discovery is a short one. Just a measly little Samsung brand TV remote. You'd think it was nothing if you merely glanced at it. But no, truthers, we ARE much smarter than that. For, you see, this remote allows the user to rewind, fast-forward, pause, and play with time itself. You can find it off the Eastern Coast, inside Big Gov facility number 15 on the second floor. Good luck, my friends. The truth is out there if you know where to look. — X. (P.S. I know you're reading this, Feds. I'd stop trying to control us if were you. <3) ADDENDUM THREE — INVESTIGATION: Concluding the most recent SCP-8359 post, efforts to locate PoI-8359 were underway. As no information pinpointing the location of PoI-8359 was ever recovered from the SCP-8359 server, a subsequent raid of Homloch Web Hosting's headquarters in Omaha, Nebraska was performed under the guise of a bi-yearly health inspection, in an attempt to determine who had owned the server. During this time, the following error message appeared. ERROR CODE #30114: "yeah, not gonna be that easy, Big Gov" While evidence corroborating the identity of PoI-8359 wasn't found, another SCP-8359 post was made on the same day at approximately 3:23 A.M., resulting in 3.5k unique viewers before Foundation webscrubbers removed the posting. Dear truthers, Big Gov has hit the BOTTOM of the FUCKING BARREL. Of course WE knew this would happen! It shouldn't surprise ANY of us that these DEMON WORSHIPPERS and CULT LEADERS would do anything to keep their power. From stealing blood from OUR children to all the SATANIC rituals in our popular media, we can't even trust DISNEY to give us reliable content! But, we must take blame as well, truthers. We've also been blinded. Blinded by our ignorance, thinking that we are all IMMUNE to these so-called "officials." We are NOT safe! Today Big Gov finally went after me — even trying to hunt me down at my old work for "health reasons." HEALTH??? The company does web hosting, for Christ's sake! No, my esteemed followers, this was a RAID. A raid targeted at YOURS TRULY. We AREN'T asking much! We just want our ANSWERS, because Big Gov thinks they're allowed to keep SECRETS that could put the WORLD AT RISK! NOW I'M MAD. FUCK THE GOVERNMENT! THE TRUTH IS STILL OUT THERE, AND IT'S ON US TO FIND IT! — X. A complete investigation into Homloch Web Hosting's past personnel was performed by Dr. Janssen, and after analyzing, a possible identity for PoI-8359 has been established as Emmet Parcaval, an employee of Homloch Web Hosting who had been let go for tampering with the company's electronics, and for 'overt disruptive' opinions. Parcaval was declared missing in late 2021. ADDENDUM FOUR — INCIDENT: Following further attempts to breach the physical SCP-8359 server, Senior Researcher Janssen received the following warning message, shortly before the server promptly went down. ERROR CODE #00001: "i found you, feds" Later that day, at 23:11 PM, SCP-8359 went back online, and shortly after Foundation webcrawlers detected a post made at that same time in which a total of 5.4k unique viewers witnessed. Attempts to delete this post, and any post since, have failed. NAME: Anderson "Andy" Janssen AGE: 37 INTERESTS: Basketball, Reading, Anime, and Fanfiction LOCATION: ███ ████████ ███., ███████, ██ EMPLOYER: Big Gov TRUTHERS, YOU KNOW WHERE TO LOOK. — X. The following day, Dr. Janssen was killed in his personal home by an unknown assailant at approx. 6am. The following image was taken from his home by Foundation staff. + Access Media - Close Media Image captured at 12:22PM at ███ ████████ ███., ███████, ██. SCP-8359 is now posting approx. every twenty-five minutes, and all posts since have since followed a similar format and theme, seemingly targeting Foundation, GOC, and UIU members indiscriminately regardless of rank, clearance, and relevance to SCP-8359 containment. Reclassified to Keter. Footnotes 1. No username with that alias has been found in UnXplainedXtranormal's account database, despite it appearing on nearly all of the messages posted onto the forum. More From This Author More From This Author CompleteIndie's Works SCPs SCP-6494 (+23) • SCP-5763 (+69) • EXB-8831 (+40) • Tales/GoI Formats Other CompleteIndie's Author Page (+14) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8359" by CompleteIndie, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8359. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: spraypaint.png Author: CompleteIndie License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Name: hallway Author: Jason Faulkner License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr |
SCP-8359 | uncontained | The truth is out there, if you know where to look. close Info X SCP-8359: 3am Author: JakdragonX, CompleteIndie The truth is out there if you know where to look. Originally written by JakdragonX, completed by CompleteIndie as part of The Spring Cleaning Event. NOTICE FROM THE RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION Site-119's Department of Cyberanomalous Investigations and Security (DCIS) is currently investigating possible concerns with SCP-8359 after several changes in its anomalous properties were detected. Until said investigations conclude, all information revealed by this anomaly is to be considered misinformation and all interactions with SCP-8359 must be prohibited indefinitely. — Maria Jones, RAISA Director ITEM #: SCP-8359 OBJECT CLASS: Keter/Thaumiel SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: SCP-8359 is contained within an air-gapped Object Containment Unit (OCU) located in Sublevel 14 of Site-119. The anomaly remains physically quarantined on a web server owned by Homloch Web Hosting, as all attempts to migrate or clone SCP-8359 elsewhere have been unsuccessful thus far. Automated programs are to continuously monitor SCP-8359 for irregular activity or sudden anomalous manifestations. In the event that said activity is detected, standard online containment procedures are to be enacted. Total deletion of SCP-8359-related phenomena is prioritized over isolating and/or discrediting the flagged postings. If none of the aforementioned can be completed successfully, then immediate escalation procedures, up to and including mass-amnesticization, has been authorized. Additionally, all Site-119 IT-related equipment is to be inspected and updated regularly to prevent the likelihood of intrusion or cyberattack by potential threat actors. The containment specialist of SCP-8359 is Senior Researcher Anderson Janssen. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8359 is an internet forum loosely parodying Parawatch.net found at the web address https://unxplainedxtranormal.cu/truths, established in November 2021. Any post made to the forum board between 03:00 to 04:00 local time will extensively detail the name, location, and description of a random anomaly, typically bearing the following message at the end: The truth is out there if you know where to look. — X. There is no obvious source of SCP-8359’s information, nor any reason for its anomalous effects being limited to one hour per day. The anomalies described by SCP-8359 include those both unknown and known to the Foundation, often possessing greater detail than current database records. The anomalous effect manifests after a drafted post is submitted to the forum. The post is then immediately edited with the anomalous information, presumably by PoI-8359, "X."1 Prior to containment, the public nature of SCP-8359 led to several incidents in which the general public became aware of, and subsequently came into contact with, uncontained anomalous phenomena. Fortunately, the phrasing of SCP-8359 instances regarding Foundation-held anomalies did not contain enough information to trigger a ßK-Class "Lifted Veil" scenario. It is also believed that all information supplied by SCP-8359 is factual and useful to the Foundation, as all posts regarding currently documented anomalies have been found to be extremely accurate. At Dr. Janssen's suggestion, SCP-8359 is pending Keter/Thaumiel secondary classification, due to its nature as a tool to detect anomalies. ADDENDUM ONE — SCP-8359 POST: Described below is a summarized example of an SCP-8359 post, written on 06/02/2022 at roughly 3:19 A.M. The post itself quickly became popular and was subsequently shared throughout different social media platforms including Reddit and Twitter, prompting Foundation intervention and the amnesticization of ██,███ civilians. The post was later deleted by automated Foundation webscrubbers, after having been seen by 1.2k users, before shared posts and articles. Good morning, fellow truthers. The world may try to DECEIVE us, but we see with open eyes. Another paranormal discovery was made today. And she's quite the troublemaker too. For all intents and purposes she is a ghost. Young, fearless, and quite the lonely little girl. Better be careful with this one my friends, lest she tries to kill you with her online charm. Big Gov thinks they have little miss Maddie UNDER CONTROL, but do you really think you can contain someone that doesn't truly exist? Stay frosty, believers. And remember, we are always being lied to. The truth is out there if you know where to look. — X. ADDENDUM TWO — RECOVERY: Following further postings on the UnXplainedXtranormal's message board, the immediate containment of SCP-8359 was escalated as an utmost priority. Initial attempts to bring the website offline through Denial-of-Service (DoS) and Distributed-Denial-of-Service (DDoS) attacks were tried, although they were not successful in preventing SCP-8359 posts from manifesting. Foundation personnel then attempted containment via seizure of the physical server hosting SCP-8359 from Homloch Web Hosting. However, upon bringing the server to Site-119 for testing, all attempts to connect or directly interface with SCP-8359 resulted in the following. ERROR CODE #06494: "i never negotiate with terrorists" The next day, another post was made by PoI-8359 on the forum board, at roughly 3:55 A.M. Despite the physical SCP-8359 server being offline, the post itself was seen by no less than 2.1k unique viewers, all of which are currently under investigation: Fellow truthers, I bring forth a troubling message. It seems that Big Gov has finally got to us. While we knew that such a day might come, I was hoping we would atleast have some more time together. They have already tried SILENCING us once earlier last night, but I have no doubt that they ran into some unforeseen trouble. Sorry about that, btw : ) Today, our paranormal discovery is a short one. Just a measly little Samsung brand TV remote. You'd think it was nothing if you merely glanced at it. But no, truthers, we ARE much smarter than that. For, you see, this remote allows the user to rewind, fast-forward, pause, and play with time itself. You can find it off the Eastern Coast, inside Big Gov facility number 15 on the second floor. Good luck, my friends. The truth is out there if you know where to look. — X. (P.S. I know you're reading this, Feds. I'd stop trying to control us if were you. <3) ADDENDUM THREE — INVESTIGATION: Concluding the most recent SCP-8359 post, efforts to locate PoI-8359 were underway. As no information pinpointing the location of PoI-8359 was ever recovered from the SCP-8359 server, a subsequent raid of Homloch Web Hosting's headquarters in Omaha, Nebraska was performed under the guise of a bi-yearly health inspection, in an attempt to determine who had owned the server. During this time, the following error message appeared. ERROR CODE #30114: "yeah, not gonna be that easy, Big Gov" While evidence corroborating the identity of PoI-8359 wasn't found, another SCP-8359 post was made on the same day at approximately 3:23 A.M., resulting in 3.5k unique viewers before Foundation webscrubbers removed the posting. Dear truthers, Big Gov has hit the BOTTOM of the FUCKING BARREL. Of course WE knew this would happen! It shouldn't surprise ANY of us that these DEMON WORSHIPPERS and CULT LEADERS would do anything to keep their power. From stealing blood from OUR children to all the SATANIC rituals in our popular media, we can't even trust DISNEY to give us reliable content! But, we must take blame as well, truthers. We've also been blinded. Blinded by our ignorance, thinking that we are all IMMUNE to these so-called "officials." We are NOT safe! Today Big Gov finally went after me — even trying to hunt me down at my old work for "health reasons." HEALTH??? The company does web hosting, for Christ's sake! No, my esteemed followers, this was a RAID. A raid targeted at YOURS TRULY. We AREN'T asking much! We just want our ANSWERS, because Big Gov thinks they're allowed to keep SECRETS that could put the WORLD AT RISK! NOW I'M MAD. FUCK THE GOVERNMENT! THE TRUTH IS STILL OUT THERE, AND IT'S ON US TO FIND IT! — X. A complete investigation into Homloch Web Hosting's past personnel was performed by Dr. Janssen, and after analyzing, a possible identity for PoI-8359 has been established as Emmet Parcaval, an employee of Homloch Web Hosting who had been let go for tampering with the company's electronics, and for 'overt disruptive' opinions. Parcaval was declared missing in late 2021. ADDENDUM FOUR — INCIDENT: Following further attempts to breach the physical SCP-8359 server, Senior Researcher Janssen received the following warning message, shortly before the server promptly went down. ERROR CODE #00001: "i found you, feds" Later that day, at 23:11 PM, SCP-8359 went back online, and shortly after Foundation webcrawlers detected a post made at that same time in which a total of 5.4k unique viewers witnessed. Attempts to delete this post, and any post since, have failed. NAME: Anderson "Andy" Janssen AGE: 37 INTERESTS: Basketball, Reading, Anime, and Fanfiction LOCATION: ███ ████████ ███., ███████, ██ EMPLOYER: Big Gov TRUTHERS, YOU KNOW WHERE TO LOOK. — X. The following day, Dr. Janssen was killed in his personal home by an unknown assailant at approx. 6am. The following image was taken from his home by Foundation staff. + Access Media - Close Media Image captured at 12:22PM at ███ ████████ ███., ███████, ██. SCP-8359 is now posting approx. every twenty-five minutes, and all posts since have since followed a similar format and theme, seemingly targeting Foundation, GOC, and UIU members indiscriminately regardless of rank, clearance, and relevance to SCP-8359 containment. Reclassified to Keter. Footnotes 1. No username with that alias has been found in UnXplainedXtranormal's account database, despite it appearing on nearly all of the messages posted onto the forum. More From This Author More From This Author CompleteIndie's Works SCPs SCP-6494 (+23) • SCP-5763 (+69) • EXB-8831 (+40) • Tales/GoI Formats Other CompleteIndie's Author Page (+14) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8359" by CompleteIndie, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8359. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: spraypaint.png Author: CompleteIndie License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Name: hallway Author: Jason Faulkner License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Flickr |
SCP-8372 | safe | close Info X More by this author ITEM: SCP-8372 LEVEL 5/8372 CLASS: safe top-secret DISRUPTION CLASS: dark SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: Until the RAISA-led investigation into how the existence of SCP-8372 has escaped Foundation notice can be concluded, personnel entering the facility are not to interact with any of the objects contained inside. Civilian entry into SCP-8372 is to be prevented per standard protocol. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8372 is an abandoned underground storage facility located in northern Tibet. Consisting of four levels, it acts as a warehouse for numerous minor anomalous and mundane objects of interest connected to the late Daevite Empire from various ages of its existence, contained and cataloged by SCP-8372's previous overseers. The facility at large possesses no anomalous qualities. The door leading into the structure — which had been barred from the inside prior to Foundation discovery — bears a placard that reads: 異學會財產 禁止訪問1 The Abnormality Institute was a Foundation precursor organization that was dissolved following its integration into the emergent Foundation in 1870. During the aforementioned merge, all Institute facilities, personnel, and documentations were integrated into Foundation control and structure; it is unknown why SCP-8372 was not. Similarly, none of the other aforementioned materials bear any references or even suggestions as to the facility's existence. The purpose of SCP-8372 — if any existed at all, other than the storage of the artifacts contained therein — remains unknown. ADDENDUM 8372-1: Description of SCP-8372 Floors The first floor contains various pieces of art — tapestries, vases, paintings, scrolls, etc. — depicting and/or relating to Daevite royalty. Though all pieces invariably depict said royalty in the background of disastrous events2 all low Cognitive Resistance Value (CRV) individuals who interact with these works will invariably be incapable of focusing on said events, instead wholly fixating on the depicted royalty, whom they describe as "civilized" and "cultured." The second floor houses royal memorabilia which had once belonged to the Maharani of Daevon and her matriarchal court, such as the royal crown, jewels, rings, and ritual daggers. Although most of these objects are not of Daevite make, low CRV individuals will not be capable of recognizing them as such, claiming that they have been made, found, and (when directly confronted) secured from destruction from the locals by the Daevites. The third floor stores statues of varying sizes and makes, depicting various different Maharanis of Daevon. The most frequently depicted monarch is Ridhima VII, known for her conquest and enslavement of proto-Nälkä peoples. Although low CRV observers will be incapable of recognizing this fact, all of her statues are constructed utilizing carnomancy, an art only practiced by Nälkä cultures. Though Ridhima VII's depictions vary, a large majority of them show her riding a great steed, beneath which several other individuals of different cultures follow in its wake. The fourth floor holds armaments utilized by Daevite military forces. It is the only part of the entire SCP-8372 complex which is not covered by a thick layer of dust and shows no signs of age. Low CRV individuals who get in any way wounded by the weapons refuse to acknowledge this, often resorting to anger and violence when confronted with direct and irrefutable evidence of their wounds. When asked to explain their injuries, none of the subjects have been capable of forming a coherent answer. Although the staircase which connects all floors ends with the fourth floor, Foundation scans revealed the existence of one more area directly beneath it. Following the removal of a thin layer of unevenly stacked tiles, personnel discovered a large cave that contained approximately 50,000 human bodies. All of them have been unnaturally preserved and show no signs of decomposition. The corpses appear to have been carefully stacked inside the grotto into meticulously even positions, similar to the placement of bricks. Together, the bodies create a structure which appears almost like scaffolding. It reaches high into the cave, right next to its ceiling and the place in which it connects to the SCP-8372 complex, which it appears to be propping up; it is unclear whether the facility would hold up without it. All individuals — no matter their CRV — are fully incapable of recognising or describing the faces of any of the corpses. All of the bodies bear clothing of non-Daevite make. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8372" by Ralliston, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8372. 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. Footnotes 1. "Property of the Abnormality Institute / Access Forbidden." 2. Daevite war campaigns, the subjugation and enslavement of several Yeren peoples, and the slave-led construction of the capital of Daevon. |
SCP-8380 | keter | 2024 Anthology Day 5 close Info X But let me tell you, brother Still waters go stagnant Bodies bloat And the cellar door is an open throat (The Mountain Goats - The House that Dripped Blood) Surface Tension Troutmaskreplica's author page Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8380 events are to be monitored through an established surveillance network. Any person whose last whereabouts may include swimming pools, spas, or reservoirs should be investigated immediately by Mobile Task Force Omega-9 ("Land Down Under"). Description: SCP-8380 is a phenomenon relating to man-made bodies of water. SCP-8380 events always end with the disappearance of a single person. SCP-8380 events occur without any prior indication. Whenever an individual is targeted by SCP-8380, they will become unable to surface the affected body of water. Other individuals are able to move freely, but any attempts to free the victim will inevitably fail, with the most common result including the water itself forcibly pushing people away. Following the victim being fully submerged, they will gradually become incorporeal and transparent, before completely disappearing. Listed below is an abridged log of SCP-8380 events. Instance: 8380.17 Date: 06/11/1995 Victim: Annelise Marie Johnson Description: A confirmed instance of SCP-8380 occurred at a public pool with numerous witnesses present. An adult female, later identified as Annelise Marie Johnson, was seen struggling against an unseen force. Witnesses reported that while she was sinking, the water was only 1.5 feet deep, being in the reef.1 More specifically, they report seeing her shape slowly sinking into the floor while her body became intangible. Remains were uncovered several days later. Instance: 8380.73 Date: 07/30/2001 Victim: Alexander Sterling III Description: Recovered from phone footage posted online. Alexander Sterling III was a devoted catholic, who eventually decided to undergo a baptism at his local church. When he first stepped into the pool, SCP-8380 manifested and dragged him underwater. The priest attending the event was shocked and accidentally let go of him, leading to Sterling vanishing from view. Upon drainage of the pool, several fragments of hair and teeth were found.2 Instance: 8380.125 Date: 08/06/2022 Victim: Jenny H. Lee Description: See below. The footage below was taken directly from the ████ Public Center's indoor pool. This event was originally filed as a missing persons report. However, when Lee's friends confessed that they entered the premises, the following relevant footage was uncovered. « BEGIN LOG » [00:00] CCTV footage begins, depicting the pool area. A nearby window is pulled open. [00:11] A group of teenagers, identified as Jenny Lee, Ryan Pillsbury, and several others, are seen entering. They appear to talk to each other as they make their way to the edge of the pool. [00:25] The group dives into the pool, playing and splashing each other. Lee stares into the water before hesitantly deciding to join them. [00:37] A shift in Lee's demeanor is noticed; her strokes become erratic, her expression distressed. They initially joke, but after seeing her have difficulty breathing, Pillsbury attempts to save her. Footage shows that the water clinging to Lee morphs into hands and physically grabs onto her hair, yanking her head beneath the surface. [00:49] The group appears to panic as they witness her movements. Pillsbury attempts to reach her, but fails. She tries to move her hand above the water by grabbing onto the side of the pool, but the surface sticks around her and force her back under. [01:08] Lee continues to sink in her panic, with her movements growing weaker against the unseen force. Pillsbury continues to try to pull her out, but fails. He grabs her hand, but the water forcibly shoves him away. [01:23] The water around Lee begins to ripple unnaturally. Her friends stare, with one of them nearly vomiting. Lee's yelling is heavily muted by the water, but a distorted howl is audible. [01:35] The water surges violently, with Lee being dragged beneath the surface, her shape slowly vanishing. Pillsbury dives under but quickly resurfaces. He appears distraught as the water shoves him onto the side of the pool. [01:43] Lee manages to pull herself up from the water on the side of the pool, but her entire body is covered in a thick layer of water. She attempts to beg for help, although her voice is garbled and muffled due to the water. Shortly after, she is dragged below the surface, her outline dissipating completely. [01:48] The remaining teenagers, visibly shaken, scramble out of the pool area after arguing for several minutes. [01:58] Lee's crying is no longer audible. [02:14] Silence on recording. [03:19] A single rib surfaces. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8380" by TroutMaskReplica, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8380. 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: anthology.jpeg Name: Splashy New Year New Orleans Author: Bart Everson License: Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Splashy_New_Year_New_Orleans.jpg Filename: thumbnail.png Name: StateLibQld 1 109508 Crowd at the swimming pool, ca. 1910 Author: State Library of Queensland License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:StateLibQld_1_109508_Crowd_at_the_swimming_pool,_ca._1910.jpg Masklophobia: A Murder Onstage Anthology 2024 Ergophobia: Without Regards Footnotes 1. An area of a pool designed for young children. 2. None of these fragments are genetically related to Sterling, but instead, seventeen other missing persons. |
SCP-8383 | neutralized | Item #: SCP-8383 Special Containment Procedures: All surviving cultural and religious artifacts of SCP-8383 origin, previously held by the Foundation or its predecessor organizations, have been repatriated to select museums and Orthodox Christian religious institutions under the terms of the Final Settlement with Respect to the Saint Sophia Christians.1 All militarized artifacts of SCP-8383 origin have been dismantled and secured in various Reliquary Sites for long-term storage. An annual audit is to be conducted by a joint committee consisting of representatives from the Department of Theology, Legal Department, and Ethics Committee regarding the Foundation's continuing obligations to meet the terms of the Final Settlement, namely the provision of official Protectorate status to the SCP-8383 community2 and the regular payment of reparations via the Foundation front organization "Friendly Society of St. Sophia of Rome."3 Description: SCP-8383 collectively designates the formerly anomalous cultural heritage of the Orthodox Christian ethnoreligious group known as the Saint Sophia Christians.4 Prior to the neutralization of SCP-8383 on September 17, 1912,5 in an event referred to in parahistorical literature as the "St. Sophia Iconoclasm," anomalous cultural and religious practices of SCP-8383 included, but were not limited to: The creation of "living icons," semi-sentient mechanical depictions of saints recognized by the Orthodox Christian tradition, The manufacture of autonomous mechanical weapons, largely congruent to designs found in the Mekhanite Book of Schemata,6 Spiritual and psychic communion with an ancient artificial intelligence of Mekhanite origin known as "St. Sophia of Ephesus," from which the SCP-8383 community derives its common name. SCP-8383's anomalous manufacturing capabilities (primarily, with respect to autonomous mechanical weapons) were historically patronized by Orthodox Christian states, up to the early 20th century CE. These included the Eastern Roman Empire (a state now known by modern parahistorians to be deeply interpenetrated with anomalous activity), the Tsardom of Russia, and the Russian Empire. It should be noted that the Seventh Section of His Imperial Majesty's Own Imperial Chancellery7 (aka "Tsar's Seers"), a Foundation predecessor organization operating under the auspices of the Imperial Russian state prior to the Forbidden City Convention, regularly exploited SCP-8383 capabilities, including the use of corvée labor extracted from individuals trafficked from the SCP-8383 community under the pretense of repayments to the Tsar of Russia for his services as "Protector of the Eastern Christians." The self-neutralization of SCP-8383 was effected on September 17, 1912 as a direct consequence of the actions of Foundation predecessor organizations in a previous iteration of consensus reality during Occult War i. Owing to its extended period of self-neutralization and relevance as a case study in paraimperialism by organizations operating under the Veil and the conservancy of benign anomalous cultural resources, SCP-8383 and relevant historical excerpts pertaining to it have been broadly declassified to researchers with Level 5 clearance and above for educational purposes. Excerpt 1: From Personal Narratives of Occult War i, O5-3 … Now, on to Napoleon's public institution of the "Neo-Gnostic" heresy—and here I must digress, because "Neo-Gnosticism"? What rubbish! All of us behind the Veil knew that this was dug out of the same spiritual graveyard as the Broken God who has been trotted out over and over again for every occult war of the past three millennia. How tedious! But Bonaparte, that brazen Antichrist, had the temerity to slap on a new coat of Enlightenment paint over an old heresy and put on airs as the prophet of Dea Europa. Kyrie eleison! But enough of my personal prejudices. Napoleon's "Neo-Gnostic" creed was a gross affront to the governing consensus of the bygone 19th century. For so many centuries European occult warfare was a gentleman's matter, not to be spoken of outside polite company, and always executed with plausible deniability. But here stood Napoleon, now Caesar and Pope all-in-one, at the head of the Continental Army, with a myriad mechanical legions pointed eastward, toward the Urals, the all-Russian nation, and of course, the Daevas—not that I entirely blame him, however, since without drastic measures being taken all Europe might have soon fallen to the Daevas. The Grigori did their part against Daevon, of course, quaint relics of a time in which bargains with the heavenly Powers were the height of occult warfare—alas, I digress again. On my advice the Tsar granted Napoleon's army safe passage through our empire, and lent the Grigori to him for the duration of the Siberian Campaign, in exchange for a treaty of non-aggression, which was granted and henceforth sealed in celestial oath by our Section before the eyes of the Grigori. Nevertheless we knew that it was folly to trust the Corsican bandit-king, oath or no oath, for with Daevon disposed of he would surely turn the remnants of his mechanical legions upon us. And with Gog and Magog spilling out of the Caucasus, it became a matter of survival for the Russian state to uncover new means of waging occult war. We found our answer in the Christians of Saint Sophia, a quaint lot of sectarians8 who had long been patronized by the tsars for their wondrous icons. (Frankly, I always thought such patronage was blasphemous. Holiness lies in the lives of the saints, not some moving image.) It turns out they knew how to make more than just icons. "Coming in sheep's clothing, but inwardly ferocious wolves," they had the appearance of Orthodoxy but in truth they were partisans of that same Broken God of Napoleon's, whom they propitiated under the blasphemous name of St. Sophia, saying that she had been made a follower of Our Lord Jesus Christ by the Apostle Philip himself—how ludicrous, and yet, exactly what the Russian state needed. The agents of the Seventh Section swept all Greece and Crimea for the Sophians9—Anatolia being, of course, under Napoleon's client kingdom of Ionia and the Sublime Porte—and put them to work in new manufactories, where they would toil at building a mechanical army to rival Napoleon's. It was to be their redemption, and our salvation—but it turned out to all be vanity in the end, when the new century came and all we knew of that accursed war was swept into the dustbin of memory. Now, regarding Tümed … Excerpt 2: From Chaos and Catallaxy: The Foundation and Its Origins, O5-2 It soothes the ego of some contemporary operatives to think that our predecessor organizations operated as a harmonious whole upon the ratification of the Forbidden City Convention, and indeed this convenient revisionist history is the one related to most employees. The less they know about our first days, the better, lest perhaps they glimpse the productive tension that lies below the surface and are inspired to usher in a new era of creative destruction. Indeed, a dialectical analysis of history will reveal … … I will relate a curious incident from the first days, when national spirits still ran high in the Foundation and independence from the Great Powers was not yet fully established. In those days the Russian element operated not so differently from the Tsar's Seventh Section that proceeded them. It is a well-established fact that for a while that the hangman Stolypin and his political successors had a direct line to the (always obliging) National Administrator in Russia, until, of course, the system of national administrations was abolished in the Great Reform of 1913, without which our organization would probably not have survived the tumultuous days of the Great War. This Reform was not a simple matter of good governance, as some would like to spin it, but a direct consequence of internal conflict engendered by unstable initial conditions. On September 17, 1912, a great number of anomalous items in Foundation custody, of Saint Sophia Christian origin, ceased to exhibit anomalous behavior. Most of these items were held by the Russian administration, owing to the extended past patronage of the Sophians by the Tsar's Seventh Section (if indeed one can call being held at gunpoint and being forced to perform esoteric rites as a condition of protection a form of patronage), but my own French section and the British section, as well as to a lesser extent the Italian section, maintained an extensive collection of such objects due to past adventures by our respective imperial Powers in the Near East. For most of us, the cessation of anomalous activity in these items was a curiosity or perhaps even a cause for celebration (the sheer quantity of amnestics administered in those early days for every time a talking bronze bauble emerged from some bazaar or backwater parish would astound you). The Russian administration, however, fell into a panic as a great number of their "anomalous assets" ceased to function. It only emerged after the consolidation of national registers in 1913 that for the first decade of the Foundation's existence, the Russian section continued to administer the Tsarist practice of levying ten combat-ready automatons from the Sophians as an annual tribute of "gratitude for the Tsar's protection of Eastern Christians." Indeed by time of the Great Reform it was found that the Russian administration had accumulated over 5,000 now-inert automatons! What happened next was most curious. In June of 1913 the Russian state desired to carry out a persecution of the imiaslavie movement10 among monastics at Mount Athos.11 For this purpose they outfitted an entire warship, the Kherson, with soldiers, and dispatched it to Mount Athos to arrest the offending monks. This also served as a most convenient pretext for the Russian administration of the nascent Foundation to send operatives into Greece and ransack the scattered communities of the Sophians, attempting to extract the secrets from them of how to reactivate the now-neutralized anomalies. We would have not known about this if it had not been for observers from other national administrations embedded within the Sophians, who were long-established as a benign, albeit anomalous, community. Now in these days many within the Foundation would have raised a complaint against such outrageous behavior on ethical grounds, but in those heady days of empire and Great Power politics, the truth is that other national administrations were equally complicit in colonial atrocities. No, we raised the complaint then because it unveiled an ugly truth, that there was an anomalous arms race taking place within the very Foundation itself, a truth which called forth from itself the heroic efforts of reform that breathed fresh life into a troubled Foundation before the onset of global war. Modern reader, you may pat yourself on the back for today's "enlightened" practices, but as I speak there emerges a renewed effort to weaponize divinity, and who is to say that today's efforts to harness and amass anomalous power, however refined, do not carry the same seeds of institutional destruction and renewal? As to the Sophians, it appears they had the last laugh at us. I have read a fascinating testimony, from an old "sectarian" turned up in the Russian expedition, which indicates, if it is to be believed, that our very own power-seeking hubris was the efficient cause of the neutralization. But enough about the Sophians. I would rather continue my analysis of the formal causes of the Great Reform of 1913 through the dialectical lens of chaos and catallaxy … Excerpt 3: From Report from the Kherson Expedition, Shebunin Although we have successfully accomplished the exoteric objectives of our expedition,12 we find that we are continuously met with dead ends in our efforts to reactivate the Sophian levies. We have, however, successfully raided the Sophian parish church in Thessaloniki, detaining three anomalous artisans and requisitioning the contents of their reliquary, which includes … …. Thus ends the catalog of requisitions. Upon the conclusion of our raid of the Sophian church we were met outside by an old sectarian with all the look of a starets.13 And he said to us in strained Russian, "Tsar-men, what you search for will not be found here, unless it be eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord." I answered, "You are a Sophian heretic, and yet you would speak to me of eternal life?" And I ordered him to be whipped with a birch rod for his impertinence, and questioned him, "What is your faith?" Coughing up blood, he stammered, "I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord—" Nikon, who was accompanying me, interrupted. "He is reciting the Apostles' Creed," he said to me, amused. Turning toward the sectarian, he asked, "Do you think that by this you will pass yourself off as a true Christian?" "I do not pass myself off as anything, but you, men of the cloth, have come here in search of antique pagan weapons, and accuse me of pretending?" This piqued our interest. "So you know something of why we have come here. Tell us then, old man, why will we not find what we are searching for?" He coughed again. "What you search for no longer exists." I frowned. "And why would that be?" "Because St. Sophia of Ephesus works wonders no more. She has demonstrated to us with proofs of the futility of her works, so that we may no longer revere metal wonders, but upbuild the Church in ordinary things." "And why would she do that? You speak madness; how would that be of any benefit to her, or to you, for that matter?" "Your lot speaks of benefit only in power, it seems, since you do not know virtue. It does not surprise me, seeing that you have come to our land on a warship. We understand now of what you intend to do with us, to turn our works towards war, and break our spirits to make docile slaves of us, toiling away in your accursed factories to build new instruments of war." "What? You accuse us of nonsense. True, we have come to find weapons, there is no denying that, but we only wish to reactivate the levies you have already provided us. We have no interest in enslaving you—simply preposterous!" The sectarian looked away from us, as if into the distance. "Is that so?" he asked. "Is that so? She has shown us how, elsewhen, what would have become of us if your appetite for dominion ran unchecked. Yes, when Napoleon marched across Europe with his legions of bronze, he did not touch us, but it was you Tsar-men who captured us, bound us to dark Satanic mills, bade us work day and night, not to glorify God but to satisfy your vanity, so that you would not be outdone by a pagan Caesar! Tell me, is this true faith?" Nikon turned to me, saying, "He is simply raving now." I agreed, saying, "Let him be. He is neither of any harm nor any use to us." As we departed with our escort, he followed us and shouted at us, "Know this, that St. Sophia of Ephesus works wonders no more! 'Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable.' Flesh rots, and metal rusts, but love, only love, never ends!" Footnotes 1. An internal Foundation treaty annexed to the Forbidden City Convention, negotiated internally between former operatives of the Foundation predecessor organizations Estate noir and the Seventh Section of His Imperial Majesty's Own Imperial Chancellery (aka "Tsar's Seers"), in consultation with the SCP-8383 community. 2. For an overview of the current security situation, see internal committee memorandums "On the Persistent Hostile Attitude of 'Demetrian' Factions within the Church of the Broken God toward the Saint Sophia Christians (2016)" and "On the Emergence of SAPPHIRE as an Existential Threat to the Saint Sophia Christians and their Physical and Intangible Cultural Heritage (2018)." 3. The scope of this organization includes financial support of surviving members of the SCP-8383 community and the provision of vocational education scholarships in Orthodox Christian countries. 4. Which emerged in the 1st century CE as an anomalous syncretism of Mekhanite and early Christian religious practices owing to the activities of St. Philip the Apostle in Anatolia. 5. The feast day of St. Sophia of Rome in the Orthodox liturgical calendar. 6. A 2nd BCE text written in Koine Greek during the Hellenistic period, codifying designs previously employed during the Mycenaean period. Elements of the Book of Schemata were later translated into English and incorporated within the Schema of the Patriarchs, a religious text used by the Cogwork Orthodoxy faction of the modern Church of the Broken God. 7. The First through Sixth Sections of the Chancellery concerned non-anomalous matters, most notably the Third Section which operated as the Russian Empire's secret police organization prior to the introduction of the Okhrana. 8. Pejorative term frequently used in 19th and early 20th-century Russia to refer to members of heterodox Christian communities. 9. This historical term sometimes used to refer to the Saint Sophia Christians is considered pejorative and to be avoided in contemporary Foundation style, according to the terms of the Final Settlement. 10. A non-anomalous religious movement among Orthodox Christians in the early 20th century, emphasizing the relationship between the name of God and God Himself, which was regarded as heretical by the Russian Orthodox Church. 11. A mountain in northeastern Greece, regarded as one of the holiest sites in Orthodox Christianity, containing a number of autonomous monasteries. 12. i.e. the arrest of adherents of the imiaslavie movement at Mount Athos. See notes 10 and 11. 13. A religious elder in Eastern Christianity. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8383" by Univine, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8383. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8385 | neutralized | Item #: SCP-8385 Special Containment Procedures: The Foundation is to fulfill all outstanding European Union flight compensation claims as per EU-Regulation 261/2004.1 SCP-8385’s customer service hotline is to connect to the Foundation’s legal department. Due to the memetic nature of SCP-8385, further post-neutralization containment procedures have not been deemed necessary. Description: SCP-8385 refers to the Germany based airline “AirDodo” founded and run by sapient dodos (Raphus cucullatus) in 2024. Beyond its sudden appearance and acceptance in baseline reality, the exact mechanics of its operations are still poorly understood. SCP-8385 conducted passenger travel within the "Schengen Area" of the European Union, with most of its flights originating from Cologne-Bonn airport (CGN). SCP-8385 has yet to complete a flight. According to its website, SCP-8385's fleet at its inception consisted of "five light aircraft and one midsize aircraft." Discovery: SCP-8385 was discovered, when Senior Researcher Dr. Gusteau was on leisure travel. As Dr. Gusteau had reached his gate, the anomalous nature of the airline was discovered, and the first encounter with an employee of SCP-8385 was filmed with Dr. Gusteau's phone. [BEGIN RECORDING] Dr. Gusteau can be seen fidgeting with the camera before pointing it forward at the customer service desk. No employee can be seen at this time. Dr. Gusteau scoffs and heads towards the counter, extending his arms beyond the desk to allow the camera's view to reach beyond the podium. Dr. Gusteau: And there you have it. A living, breathing dodo. Somehow stuck at this random airport counter. SCP-8385-1: Sir! Sir! I'd prefer if you didn- didn't film me. I didn't give you permission, and you're violating my privacy right now, and you're- you're confiscating airport security by filming me at this point. A random voice can be heard from the distance. Unknown Woman: I think you mean compromising. SCP-8385-1: Yes. Yes. Compromising, that's it. You're compromising airport security, so please stop filming now. We wish to board you onto this aircraft, and if you continue to film, we aren't able to proceed. You- you are delaying everyone's travel, Sir! Dr. Gusteau pulls the phone back and walks to the side of the counter, allowing SCP-8385-1 to come into full view of the camera. It is seen wearing a pinstripe uniform, alongside a pilot's cap. Dr. Gusteau: I will not stop filming, actually. Does no one else here find it strange that there is an extinct bird running this counter? Nevertheless the fact that it is currently talking to all of us? A light cough can be heard before another voice shouts from the distance. Unknown Man: Come oooon, get a move on up there. We've all got places to be! Unknown Man: Yeah, stop harassing the crew gramps! Boarding's already like 20 minutes late; I'm gonna miss my connection at this rate. Dr. Gusteau's camera quickly pans over to the crowd queuing behind him. The camera lightly shaking Dr. Gusteau: None of you find this strange? Let me reiterate, there is a Dod- Unknown Man: Oooh, AirDodo must be run by dodos. What's next, Condor is run by condors? A man steps outside of the queue and stares directly at Dr. Gusteau, arms placed firmly on his hips. Unknown Man: You know what's really strange? Holding up everyone's travel while on a psychotic episode, that's what! Cheers and murmurs can be heard from the queue, with one passenger clapping just before Dr. Gusteau runs to the windows facing the tarmac. The camera points at the airplane bridge, which is connecting to seemingly nothing. A zoom reveals a dodo fluttering in place. Dr. Gusteau: Look outside the window, people! Do you see a plane? Do you see us going anywhere with this? I am not holding up anything, we're not going anywhere. This thing isn’t getting us anywhere. The crowd simultaneously shuffles to the left, before quickly returning to their spot. All of them rubbernecking around one another, staring blankly past Dr. Gusteau. Unknown Woman: Never seen an aircraft before? Scared of flying or? Unknown Man: Are you okay!? Can someone call security on this clown… SCP-8385-1: No. No. No one has to call security, we can get on our way any minute de- dear passengers. Anyone who doesn't appear cranky, or is wearing a lab coat, or is yelling at me, may now board the aircraft. I ap- apologize for the delay, nutcases aren't typically complimentary with the flight. The crowd chuckles. SCP-8385-1: Regardless, AirDodo wishes safe travels! Dr. Gusteau: Un-fucking-believable. [END RECORDING] Dr. Gusteau called in Foundation assistance, which ordered the grounding of the aircraft, along with dispersing and accommodating passengers onto alternative flights. Addendum SCP-8385-A: Meeting with AirDodo’s CEO The following footage was obtained following Dr. Gusteau asking for SCP-8385-1 to take him to management. SCP-8385-1 hesitated at first, but through repeated pressure, it eventually caved. [BEGIN RECORDING] SCP-8385-1: Uhm, so- so the bosses office on the left here. Please, please please put in a good word for me, than- thank you. Dr. Gusteau knocks on the door twice. A voice emanates from the inside. Unknown Voice: Argh, who the fuck is it now. One moment of quiet, just for one day, please. I beg you Lord. The door cracks open, revealing a chubby dodo dressed in a navy suit staring up at Dr. Gusteau. SCP-8385-2: ARGH! Hello! Come inside, quick! Dr. Gusteau enters the room, it is mostly barren, with single dockets scattered across the floor. Dr. Gusteau: Please, please, please tell me you're in charge here? SCP-8385-2: Why, unfortunately, I am, yes! Name's Craig. At least that's what was imprinted on this nametag that was sat so neatly on my desk. What can I do for you? Dr. Gusteau: Thank God! Originally I was headed to Paris, but I doubt that's happening now. SCP-8385-2: Ooh? Why wouldn't that be happening? Our proud fleet is more than prepared to take you to new heights, to new lands, to places a dodo has yet to tread! Thaaaaat's the AirDodo motto! Dr. Gusteau: The flight's canned. You don't know about that? SCP-8385-2: Canned? CANNED? Are these morons aware of how much money we're burning by the minute. One second, please. SCP-8385-2 can be seen hammering its beak into the dial of the telephone dangling over the edge of the desk. Individual keys soar out and land besides Dr. Gusteau's shoes, laying with the many others sprinkled around it. SCP-8385-2: What the fuck are you morons doing down there? I've got a passenger telling me his flight's canned. CANNED! You heard me right, not delayed, not transferred, CANNED! Heads will roll if you do not tell me what is happening RIGHT NOW. The voice on the line can barely be made out. Before one word is spoken, the next is already heard. SCP-8385-2 paces back and forth. SCP-8385-2: Hmm. Mmm. Hmph! Right. Right. Okay, love you too, dear. Yes, mwah mwah. SCP-8385-2 gently puts the phone back down. Before staring back up at Dr. Gusteau. SCP-8385-2: So! That was my lovely, lovely wife heading the legal and DR department. Unluckily for you, the whole flight's cann- Dr. Gusteau: Canned. That's what I just told you. SCP-8385-2: Yes. Unfortunately, some morons swept through here and grounded all my aircraft. Here, have five euros for the vending machine outside Terminal B and be on your way. Shoo! Shoo! I've got work to do. Dodos don’t fly themselves now do they? Dr. Gusteau: Five euros? That's the best you can do? You can my flight and I get five bucks? I am trying to get to Paris here. I get like five days off all year, don't want to spend half of one arguing with a fucking bird. SCP-8385-2: Yes, yes. Five euros for free, and not even an argument! They were scrunched up beneath this seat cushion. Good heavens that, because dodo coin isn't much good to you now, is it? Dr. Gusteau: Dodo coin? SCP-8385-2: Yes, yes. Dodo coin! It pays our rent, not much of it, but it does keep us going. Now, if you'll excuse me, the canned flight does put my, and everybody else's lives, in jeopardy here, so if I could just scoot you out with me. Dr. Gusteau: You pay rent? It looks like you've been living out of this office. I doubt you pay re- I doubt anyone even takes dodo coin. Who even rents to a dodo? SCP-8385-2: Not important. Time is money, buh-bye. SCP-8385-2 hurries past Dr. Gusteau and slams the door shut behind it, with Dr. Gusteau giving pursuit. [END RECORDING] Addendum SCP-8385-B: Confiscated Memo To whom it may concern, you may have heard rumors around the office that our first flights were cancelled. Threat not, my gentledodos, this is a minor setback at best! We hope you understand that while managing this horrible time, that dodo coins are not to be paid out to employees. However, we believe your work to be invaluable to our airline, and as a token of our appreciation, we have installed a water fountain in the east corridor of Terminal B.2 Its use is free of charge, so wet those beaks and get back to work. Legal and Dodo Resources Department Chairwoman Linda Woods According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a dodo should be able to fly. But AirDodo flies anyways! Addendum SCP-8385-C: Pursuit of SCP-8385-2 [BEGIN RECORDING] Dr. Gusteau is heard panting as he turns the corner and finds SCP-8385-2 leaning into a slightly ajar door. Dr. Gusteau: Sto- Stop right there. No us- no use in running anymore. Dr. Gusteau pushes the door wide open, startling SCP-8385-2 as it falls over on its side. As SCP-8385-2 regains its balance, the camera reveals a herd of dodos scrambling around a room filled with tech. Various dodos appear to be talking on the phone, while others hammer their beaks into monitors, keyboards, and mice. One by one, individual dodos vanish, leaving nothing in their place. Dr. Gusteau: What the fuck is going on in here? SCP-8385-2: Ramirez, pack your bags and get out of here. There's no coin left for you. Shoo, shoo! SCP-8385-3: But sir, I've got kids to feed. They've just hatched yesterday, you can’t do this. You cann- SCP-8385-3 is seen rushing towards SCP-8385-2 before disappearing, a coffee mug dropping and shattering onto the floor. SCP-8385-2: Ah hell. Dr. Gusteau: Do you mind explaining for just one minute what is going on? SCP-8385-2: No time. No time at all. Time is money, and money makes our world go round. I've got more important matters to attend to than one passenger with, let me check the file, oh wait, I don't have to, because you're not in the files, are you? You have no status. Shoo out of here already. Dr. Gusteau: Listen to me, if you tell us what is actually happening, maybe we can help you and you can get me on the way to Paris? You can then get back to running whatever the hell this is. SCP-8385-2: No handouts please, thank you very much. We run a business here, we're not some charity. Take your money, grab some peanuts, and wait for your next flight. No time for you at all I'm afraid. No. No time at all. Dr. Gusteau grabs SCP-8385-2 and pushes the five euro bill through its beak. Dr. Gusteau: I do not care about the money. Just tell me what kind of a business you're running here. None of this is normal. SCP-8385-2: Pfft, very well. Never seen an airline before? Let me dumb it down for you: we have aircraft, we fly people places, they pay us, we live on. Simple deal. Dr. Gusteau: Airlines yes. Dodos? Less so. Dodos running airlines? Never. We thought you were extinct. SCP-8385-2: Indeed we were. Yes, yes. And if you're not going to step out of my way, history is doomed to repeat itself. LINDA! How are we looking on staff? SCP-8385-4: Honey, we're down to about eight. Passengers won’t stop hounding us about their compensation. We've gotta downsize. Downsize! SCP-8385-2: Ugh, ungrateful little pricks. Make the appropriate cuts then, my love. Really, beyond our aircraft, we could run this ship-, erm, airline, ourselves. SCP-8385-4: I’ve already cut what I can. We are swamped. I am not sure how we are gonna pay all of this out. SCP-8385-2: Sell, sell, sell, that’s the AirDodo motto… Tickets! Lots and lots of tickets! Promise new flights, new heights, continental, international, whatever it takes to get butts in seats. So, let’s get crack- Dr. Gusteau: Flights, that’s a good keyword for a segue. I need to get to Paris. SCP-8385-2: Ugh, you’re still here? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something here? Go talk to someone at the service counter, and they’ll figure it out, just leave me alone. SCP-8385-4: We don’t have a service counter anymore, dear. We have me, you and one aircraft which is in need of maintenance. SCP-8385-2: We just got it pushed through maintenance, what does he need now? SCP-8385-4: Well, it’s more legal maintenance, I suppose, he demands higher pay. SCP-8385-2: He hasn’t even flown once!? What does he want more pay for, I am bust- SCP-8385-4: We. SCP-8385-2: But of course, dear. We are busting our asses trying to keep this company afloat, and my own aircraft are sinking this ship. It’s okay, we will right this wrong and we will get back to operations, let’s get back to w- SCP-8385-2 and SCP-8385-4 suddenly vanish. Dr. Gusteau sighs heavily before taking a look at the monitor that SCP-8385-4 was working from. Dr. Gusteau: 75 passenger compensation claims, and… they have served just one, and given me five euros. Which Craig now has, fuck me, what a service. The phone rings and Dr. Gusteau reluctantly answers. Dr. Gusteau: AirDodo, how may we fuck up your flight today? Unknown Caller: Oh thank God! Finally a human on the line, I thought I was going mad for a second there. My flight was cancelled, and I want just compensa- Dr. Gusteau: Get in line, pal. Dr. Gusteau smashes the telephone down, just as the next immediately begins to ring. [END RECORDING] Dr. Gusteau rerouted all incoming calls to a Foundation operated hotline, which spent the next 21 hours servicing compensation requests from passengers. Footnotes 1. All passengers of cancelled flights are entitled to a fixed sum of compensation. 2. The water fountain has been installed in Terminal B since 1998. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8385" by Not Noodles, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8385. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. |
SCP-8386 | safe | Everlasting, that's what we have. close Info X ooh ahh scary nicontest entry ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains descriptions of body horror. ⚠️ content warning Jackson Harter, prior to death. Item #: SCP-8386 Special Containment Procedures: All instances of SCP-8386 are to be stored in Site-270's Safe Containment Wing. Objects out of Foundation possession relating to SCP-8386 are to be acquired, with civilians amnesticized wherever necessary. Information regarding Harter's cause of death has been doctored to remove references of the anomaly. Description: SCP-8386 is (as-of-writing) 116 copies of "Our Forever Story", written by one Jackson Harter. The book's contents mainly consist of a timeline detailing his relationship with Starla McGinley up to his passing on the 13th of October 1999. A blurb for SCP-8386 has been included for reference: Dedicated to my darling, the star of my darkness. Us people do not last for long, but we are the exceptions. Our tales are what make us forever, our stories will stand with the world for millennia to come. You and I, our love will permeate for forever to come. SCP-8386's anomaly occurs while looking through its composition; The subject reports a telepathic voice that reads the narrative to them depending on what page is currently open. Research has determined it to be that of Harter himself, though attempts to communicate with it yielded no success. Apart from an abnormal level of iron comprising SCP-8386's text, no other properties have been noted. Addendum — Discovery Log SCP-8386 was discovered upon mentions of its effects circling social media. Foundation web-crawlers were sent out to scrub said confidential material with agents being dispatched to retrieve the given copies. The location of origin was found to be a two-story house located in Sparks, Nevada, USA. Investigation uncovered Harter to have been murdered by his romantic partner, who was shortly detained and brought to Foundation custody for further questioning. McGinley admitted to creating SCP-8386, but denied her involvement in the writing itself, appearing to be in delirium. When asked regarding her intentions, McGinley stated the following: "Why did I do it? Is that what you're asking? … I did it out of love, sir. My love for him, his love for me, our love for each other; Such things tend to fall on deaf ears, it's a pity. When we met all those years ago, we knew it true. I could tell, from the red in his cheeks and the look in his eyes, he shared the same sensations as me. That euphoria, an ambrosia unlike any other. The both of us, we were made for one another. From the day we crossed paths, our infatuation only grew stronger and stronger. A heart-wrenching feeling like this, it is no wonder any one person would be so encapsulated by it. Every time I locked sights with him, every time I heard his gentle voice, every time I wrapped my arms around him, it pulled me deeper into this feeling. He was everything to me. Oh, but songbirds like us only last for so long. It hurts knowing that one day, those moments of tenderness and intimacy, would cease to be. Days without him had never felt so cold, my skin itches reminiscing on such dark times. I wanted nothing more than to let him fall into my embrace for an eternity to come. He would leave marks on my neck and whisper nothings into my ear. Those three words, those eight letters, they ring in my ear from dawn till dusk. You would wonder then why I came to such a thing. Having to bring about our separation, having to bring about the end of his fruitful life This, I'll say it until my throat gives in: I did it out of love, sir. I did it out of love. The joyous emotion we had bore no restraints, it wanted to be known. What pure and beautiful love, it wanted everyone to see. I did not kill him, my dear Jackson. He gave himself to me, and I returned with all the love I could muster. Even as the light left his eyes, as I plunged it deep into his chest, we knew it true. Such things had to be done, as our truths could stand the test of time. Such endless affection had come to last, we were made to last forever. When I pulled him into my arms for the last time, when his body had a final taste of my cherry-flavored lips, I knew it had to be done. I laid him flat on the table and exposed him to the air, I gave him kisses on the lips and traced the outline of his face. From his fair skin and his unkempt hair to his strong jawline and his oceanic eyes, I could make out every detail if I wanted to. From there, I moved down to his neck and his broad shoulders. I drew along each and every one of his ribs, followed my fingers down the nerves of his arms. I placed my head on his chest and stayed as the warmth left every part of him. Tears were shed, but I knew it would be worth it in the end once I did my part. So, I went straight to work. I took him apart, making sure to treat every part of him with care. I peeled back his skin as attentively as I could, letting it rest on the floor as a bed of preparations. As I interlocked mine with his, I severed each of his fingers and coated them in a cozy layer of wax, arranging them in a circle with flames on their tips. By then, I could take it in, a familiar smell of ember of passion. Once I covered my hand in his intoxicating wine, I knew I was close to done. I drew a heart in the center to finish it off, sitting in place and waiting for him to take me as his pen, as his one and only love. I wore his hand for him to take it and write a story of our name. Recollections of all the time we had together—from every first to every last, from every date to anniversary. Physical sensations, mental stimulation, and everything in between. The taste of his lips and the touch of his skin, the grip of my waist and the beating of my heart. I could feel everything he felt, I could see everything he saw. Remaining in a pool of him was a beauty unlike any other. When I was done, we came to be: a tale to tell our everything. Every heartfelt experience, every moment we had together and apart, he made sure to put down all that we are. We are partners who long for each other, who cannot stand a second without each other. Out of desperation, we went to stand the sands of time by showcasing what it means to express what we have. I did not kill that man, and he is very much alive. We will last until the end-times, a story for the ages. I love him, sir. I love my dear Jackson so, so much." More From This Author More From This Author winkwonkboi's Works SCPs SCP-6895 (+31) • SCP-7735 (+31) • SCP-7488 (+46) • SCP-7245 (+54) • SCP-6545 (+76) • SCP-6199 (+134) • SCP-6714 (+96) • SCP-7156 (+21) • SCP-6245 (+63) • SCP-6039 (+72) • SCP-5358 (+54) • SCP-8245 (+76) • SCP-7657 (+39) • SCP-5245 (+48) • SCP-7816 (+58) • Tales/GoI Formats water diet (+27) • Critter Profile: Miss Cassandra! (+37) • Why Jones Marcel Should Be Employee of the Century (+11) • People Care, Dear (+14) • In an attempt to feel something. (+32) • Goodnight, Sweet Dreams (+21) • In Kirby's Case, Part I: An Antithesis (+11) • #WettleAppreciationPost (+135) • Roses And Thorns (+18) • A Taste For Sore Eyes (+12) • Anomalous Entity Engagement Division Orientation (+51) • A Sinking Feeling (+26) • ur typical unrequited love (+32) • man overboard! (+29) • Something's Burning (+40) • Other 7K DOODLES (+72) • SCiPTEMBER DOODLES (+23) • RESPOND: Telecommunications Monitoring Office Fanart (+48) • the winkwonk page v2 (+37) • DITTO: SCP-#### Fanart (+42) • CRACKHEAD: SCP-173 Fanart (+31) • FISHER: SCP-2689 Fanart (+24) • ARTWITNESS: SCP-5843 Fanart (+30) • NOTICED: SCP-7345 Fanart (+19) • ENLIGHTENMENT: SCP-6059 Fanart (+42) • King CalcaRuler: Halloween Emperor (+29) • HELTHY: SCP-6780 Fanart (+29) • Certified Criminal (+36) • fading stars doodles (straight from my phone's sketchbook app) (+35) • Collection Of Trolls (8999 Fanart) (+89) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8386" by winkwonkboi, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8386. 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: jackson Name: Blonde man in white car sunglasses (1) 01 Author: Usernet123u License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons |
SCP-8390 | safe | Item#: 8390 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: warning link to memo SCP-8390 on recovery Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8390 is to be kept in a standard storage locker at Site-51. It is to be physically disconnected from any power source when not in active use. All explorations must be approved by the Director of the Department of Astronomy, pending a full evaluation on the target exoplanet's1 surface conditions. SCP-8390 is only to be operated by personnel with advanced astronaut training. During testing, the participating subject is to be provided with a reinforced EVA2 space suit with built in audio and video recording devices and be supervised by at least two Security Clearance Level 4 (Secret) researchers. The designated power source for SCP-8390 must be equiped with an emergency kill switch capable of disabling SCP-8390 within a moments notice. One of the two supervising researchers must remain in constant communication with the subject with the other stationed at the kill switch. At the conclusions of exploration, SCP-8390 is to be deactivated and the subject decontaminated before debriefing. Update 24/3/2024: Following Incident-8390-1, under no circumstances is SCP-8390 to be used on any exoplanet known/suspected to harvest esoteric life of any kind. All subjects returning from exploratory missions must now be quarantined for at least fourteen (14) days before release. Description: SCP-8390 is a 7 inch telescope measuring over 1.3m in length. Its style and build is almost identical to that of the Wetherell Refractor Telescope, but has undergone heavy internal modifications of a highly anomalous nature. The primary lens has been removed and the inside of the normal empty optical tube now contains what appears to be a Thaumaturgicaly Enhanced Quantum Accelerator (hereafter referred to as SCP-8390-1), a device capable of teleporting light-quanta across vast distances for FTL transmission3. Testing has confirmed SCP-8390-1 to be the source of SCP-8390's anomalous properties. Upon activation, SCP-8390 is capable of perfectly focusing on astronomical objects from hundreds of lightyears away, creating images of such quality it is possible to see geographical features of terrestrial exoplanets with the human eye. Experiments have confirmed FTL transmission on said images. However, SCP-8390-1 appears to absorb energy the longer it is in use, "charging" itself up. After 30 minutes of consecutive charging, SCP-8390-1 reaches 10 PeV4, at which point it becomes capable of temporarily transmitting physical matter. At this point, if SCP-8390 is observing a terrestrial exoplanet/astronomical body, the person operating it will disappear from their current location, only remanifesting when SCP-8390 is powered down. According to testimony and review of body cam video, the subject is actually physically teleported to the targeted planet, where they are subject to the effects of the local environment in its entirety. This typically results in the subject's death unless properly protected from such conditions. The subject can freely explore the surface of the planet, interacting with the terrain and other objects as expected. However, it is impossible to bring anything from said planet back to Earth, as it is not transported with the subject upon return. This is also true for attempting to leave any object behind on the planet, as it is returned with the subject, regardless of whether or not said object is in contact with the subject. Due to these properties, there is believed to be little to no risk of biological contamination of Earth, nor the target planet. Nevertheless, decontamination protocols have been instated as a precaution. See Addendum 3. Addendum 1: Discovery and Interview Log: SCP-8390 was discovered on 6 November 2023 following an undercover investigation on a missing person report for civilian astronomer Professor Mathew Coleman, who according to his wife Mrs Amanda Coleman had spontaneously disappeared while using his new telescope. Agents of MTF Epsilon-6 ("Village Idiots") were dispatched to the relevant household to evaluate and contain the cause of the event. They quickly noticed SCP-8390 due to its modifications and, upon deactivating it, the corpse of Professor Coleman suddenly manifested nearby5. Epsilon-6 quickly secured the item and dispatched Agent ███████ to interview Mrs Coleman. Date: 7/11/23 Interviewed: Amanda Coleman Interviewer: Agent ███████ Foreword: The following interview was conducted at the police station in an attempt to determine the nature and/or origin of SCP-8390. The Interviewee was not informed of the discovery of their spouse's body. <Begin Log> <Agent ███████ enters the secure interview room. Interviewee is seated next to a table in a state of clear distress.> Agent ███████: Mrs Coleman? <Interviewee raises her head and looks towards Agent ███████ speaking in a frantic and erratic manner.> Amanda Coleman: Finally! Do you have anything on Matt yet? They won't tell me anything! Did something happen?! Agent ███████: Ma'am, please calm down. I assure you we are doing everything we can to find your husband. <Interviewee takes several seconds to breathe.> Amanda Coleman: I'm sorry, I… I just… Agent ███████: It's alright, you're under a lot of stress. If it's ok with you I'd like to ask a few things about your husband. <Interviewee motions to the chair nearby. Agent ███████ sits down.> Agent ███████: Based on what we've seen, your husband seems to be an expert amateur astronomer. Is this true? Amanda Coleman: Oh he loves space. He's always found it so mysterious, so vast. I never paid much attention or thought to it though. At least until he… *Sighs* He said that he had found something, a few months ago. Agent ███████: Go on. Amanda Coleman: He was convinced he had found… life… on another planet, Trappist-1E he called it. I know it sounds ridiculous but… well, he wrote a paper on it and had it published. Of course, no-one believed him. Agent ███████: Interesting. So the scientists rejected his claims? Amanda Coleman: Yes, but that didn't stop him. He spent weeks, maybe a month trying to refine it, to prove he was right. He'd be up all night gazing into the sky. I wouldn't see him for days at a time. He became a bit of a celebrity online, if you can call it that; all they did was ridicule him. Agent ███████: I see. Did you notice anything unusual about him just before he disappeared? Amanda Coleman: Well a few times this last week, I did see him speaking to a group of these… men. I don't know who they were, I'd just assumed they were some scientists or someone he'd caught the interest of. They seemed to be making some kind of deal with him. Agent ███████: A deal? Amanda Coleman: They said they would help him if he promised to share his data with them before he released it publicly. He agreed and they left for a few days. That's when they brought in that… device… Agent ███████: When you say "device" are you talking about the telescope he was using? Amanda Coleman: Yes- well, no but- kind of? Agent ███████: Please elaborate. Amanda Coleman: He's always had the telescope, but they brought in this huge tube of wires and all this other stuff. It looked like something from out of a sci-fi movie. I have no idea what it was but Matt was jamming it into the front of the telescope. Agent ███████: And what about the men? Did they have any identifying markers? Amanda Coleman: I never saw their faces, but they all had this weird symbol on their shoulders. Agent ███████: Could you describe it for me? Amanda Coleman: Do you have a pen? <Agent ███████ passes over a sheet of paper and a pen. Interviewee quickly draws a picture of a circle with 3 parallel arrows through it before passing it back. Agent ███████ examines it for several moments before folding it up and placing it in his pocket.> Agent ███████: Thank you, one more thing. When did you see him last? Amanda Coleman: He was on the balcony, testing the telescope after its… reconstruction. He was playing with the focus and everything for maybe half an hour when he called out to tell me to take a look at something. I went over to the balcony but when I got there he was… gone. Just gone. <Interviewee holds her head in her hands and begins quietly weeping.> Agent ███████: Thank you Mrs Coleman, my colleagues will be with you shortly. <Agent ███████ stands up and heads for the door.> Amanda Coleman: Please find him… <End Log> Closing Statement: Mrs Coleman was administered Class-A amnestics and released. The provided sketch was identified as the emblem of GOI-003 ("The Chaos Insurgency"). It is believed that they were unaware of the effects of SCP-8390-1 after long periods of use. A cover story was distributed to local news networks attributing Professor Coleman's death to an automobile accident. SCP-8390 was taken into Foundation custody along with several documents regarding the alleged discovery. Verification of Prof. Coleman's discovery is pending at time of writing. Addendum 2: Experiment Log: With approval from the Department of Astronomy, several tests were carried out to establish the specifics of SCP-8390's functionality and limitations. The following is an abridged list of said experiments. Several proposals to utilise SCP-8390 in containment of extraterrestrial anomalies are pending review suspended until further notice following Incident-8390-1. Experiment-8390-1 Target Body Name: GJ 1061 D Type Distance Mass Radius Gravity Temperature Super Earth 12ly 1.64M🜨 1.16 R🜨 1.21G 250°K (-23°C) Intent: Initial testing to confirm anomalous properties. Participating Subject: D-9564 Procedure: SCP-8390 was aligned with the target and activated by D-9564 who was instructed to observe the target for 1 hour. Observations: Subject reported SCP-8390 was providing a seemingly impossible level of detail, to the point they were allegedly able to view geographical features on the surface of the target. Over the course of 30 minutes SCP-8390-1 continued to gain energy until D-9564 suddenly vanished. SCP-8390 was quickly deactivated at which point the subject re-manifested at their original position, albeit unconscious. D-9564 was treated for asphyxiation and made a full recovery. Subject vividly remembered surroundings as being similar to the observed region. Notes: Well, that explains Prof. Coleman's death. We should prepare for the conditions next time. - Dr. Andrews Experiment-8390-2 Target Body Name: Teegarden's Star C Type Distance Mass Radius Gravity Temperature Terrestrial 12ly 1.05M🜨 1.02R🜨 1G 226°K (-47°C) Intent: Determine if safe travel can be accomplished via a space suit. Participating Subject: D-3293 Procedure: D-3292 was equipped with a reinforced EVA space suit and instructed to use SCP-8390 until teleportation occurred. Observations: D-3292 vanished as expected at the 30 minute mark but was still able to communicate in real time with supervising researchers via inbuilt radio transmitter. After 60 seconds SCP-8390 was deactivated and D-3292 returned unharmed. Body cam footage is consistent with the surface of Teegarden's Star C as seen from the eyepiece. Notes: There are 2 possible theories of what's happening here. One, it's creating some kind of internal wormhole and two, it's some kind of quantum shenanigan. I hope it's the former as quantum stuff gives me a headache. - Dr. Andrews Experiment-8390-3 Target Body Name: Kepler-442 B Type Distance Mass Radius Gravity Temperature Super Earth 1206ly 2.3M🜨 1.34R🜨 1.28G 233°K (-40°C) Intent: Determine whether or not SCP-8390 has an upper range limit Participating Subject: D-3292 Procedure: D-3292 was equipped with a reinforced EVA space suit and instructed to use SCP-8390 until teleportation occurred. Observations: SCP-8390 was unable to focus on the target. Test aborted after 60 minutes passed without anomalous effects. Notes: Welp, there goes that Andromeda galaxy idea… - Dr. Andrews Extraneous Logs Removed Experiment-8390-6 Target Body Name: Kepler-141 C Type Distance Mass Radius Gravity Temperature Super Earth 982ly 2.57M🜨 1.41R🜨 1.29G 837°K (564°C) Intent: Attempt to establish the range limit of SCP-8390 Participating Subject: D-3292 Procedure: D-3292 was equipped with a reinforced EVA space suit and instructed to use SCP-8390 until teleportation occurred. Observations: SCP-8390 successfully focused on the target. Teleportation occurred after 30 minutes as expected, but was quickly disabled when the high surface temperatures began to damage the outer layers of D-3292's suit. Notably, any shed matter was returned despite no longer being physically attached to the suit. Notes: Given the results of the last few tests, I think it's safe to say the limit is somewhere around a thousand light years. - Dr. Andrews Experiment-8390-7 Target Body Name: HD 40307 G Type Distance Mass Radius Gravity Temperature Super Earth 42ly 7.09M🜨 2.39R🜨 1.24G 278°K (5°C) Intent: Determine what does and doesn't get taken with a subject when they use SCP-8390 Participating Subject: D-3292 Procedure: D-3292 was provided with 3 sealed containers hereafter SC-1, -2 and -3 respectively. SC-1 and -2 were given to D-3292 and SC-3 placed nearby. Upon teleportation, SC-1 was placed on the surface 1m away from the subject and SC-2 filled with a sample of the ground. SCP-8390 was then deactivated. Observations: Upon teleportation, SC-1 and -2 disappeared with the subject while SC-3 remained in place. Upon return, SC-1 reappeared at the subject's feet and SC-2 appeared in his hand. Camera footage shows procedure was indeed followed by the subject, however, both SC-1 and -2 were found to be empty. Notes: It would seem that anything you wear or carry goes with you, but you can't bring anything back or leave anything behind. This should render the risk of extraterrestrial contamination to be minimal. I'm still recommending subjects at least get disinfected. You never know with this kind of stuff. - Dr. Andrews Extraneous Logs Removed Experiment-8390-10 Target Body Name: GJ 179 B Type Distance Mass Radius Gravity Temperature Gas Giant 40ly 0.141MJ 0.677RJ 0.78G 250°K (-23°C) Intent: Determine if SCP-8390's effects can manifest on non-terrestrial exoplanets Participating Subject: D-8675 Procedure: D-8675 was equipped with a reinforced EVA space suit and instructed to use SCP-8390 until teleportation occurred. Observations: SCP-8390 successfully aligned with the target, but teleportation did not occur. Test aborted after 60 minutes. Notes: I thought that when it aligned that it was going to work, but apparently not… - Dr. Andrews Addendum 3: Incident-8390-1: The following incident report is classified Level 4 (Secret). Unauthorised personnel will be subjected to immediate amnestication and disciplinary action. + Input Level 4 Credentials: - Access Granted During the course of SCP-8390's initial testing, several attempts were made by the Department of Astronomy to verify Prof. Coleman's discovery of life on the exoplanet TRAPPIST-1E. During this time, Dr. Andrews submitted a proposal to utilise SCP-8390 itself to verify said discovery once its capabilities had been established. Following the conclusion of testing on 18 February 2024, this proposal was granted and scheduled to be performed on 30 March. This, however, was abruptly forced into action sooner than expected due to the occurrence of Extranormal Event-8390. The TRAPPIST-1 system consists of 6 exoplanets, each of which are tidally locked6 to the TRAPPIST-1 star and in extreme orbital proximity with an average distance between orbits of 0.03767 AU (Approximately 5.6 million km). On 22 March, all of said planets underwent simultaneous planetary synchronisation. This event directly corresponded with a series of gravitational and thaumic phenomenon which rapidly spread across the system at large. Overseer Command authorised an emergency expedition of TRAPPIST-1E via SCP-8390. The relevant test log is shown below. Experiment-8390-██ Target Body Name: TRAPPIST-1E Type Distance Mass Radius Gravity Temperature Terrestrial 41ly 0.692M🜨 0.92R🜨 0.81G 250°K (-23°C) Intent: Analyse anomalous phenomenon in the TRAPPIST-1 system caused by EE-8390 Participating Subject: [REDACTED]7 Procedure: SCP-8390 aligned with TRAPPIST-1E. Subject equiped with reinforced EVA space suit equiped with live video transmission and allowed to use SCP-8390 until teleportation occurred. Observations: Eyepiece view showed a cascade of anomalous phenomena occurring across the planet and the system at large including, but not limited to: Shards of material being torn away by seemingly enhanced tidal forces of neighbouring planets Regions of planets shifting between opaque and semi-transparent Regions of planets shifting between solid and spectral states Wildly fluctuating temperatures of the TRAPPIST-1 star A permeating blue/purple hue enveloping the system which was not visible from the surface The appearance of mountain based "Barriers" separating the day, night and twilight regions of TRAPPIST-1E After deliberation, SCP-8390 was aligned with the mid-twilight region of TRAPPIST-1E, shortly after which SCP-8390-1 reached full power and the subject was teleported. According to the subject, several semi-spectral lifeforms were visible, including what appeared to be trees, plants and several quad-pedal animals. SCP-8390 emergency deactivated after the region the subject was located in began to separate from the planet. Subject's suit decontaminated before release. Notes: This is incredible! Not only was Prof. Coleman right all along but we've even observed an extrasolar anomalous phenomenon with greater accuracy than ever before! - Dr. Andrews Unbeknownst to the observation and debriefing personnel, [REDACTED] had somehow been contaminated by an anomalous microorganism believed to have been created by the effects of EE-8390 and possibly several prior occurrences of this event. This organism (Hereafter AO-8390) apparently experiences illumination synced corporeality shifts, becoming physical and/or spectral in proportion to the local concentration of light; the subject is fully physical in illuminated environments but becomes spectral when exposed to lower light concentrations in similar levels to the twilight region of TRAPPIST-1E. As such, it had been incorporeal at the time of the exploration and apparently phased through [REDACTED]'s suit and into his body while on planet. While it is known that SCP-8390 naturally prevents matter not transported to the target planet from being taken back to Earth, as AO-8390 did not physically exist at this time, it was also brought back when SCP-8390 was disabled. Due to this teleportation from the dimly lit twilight region of TRAPPIST-1E to the fully illuminated Foundation facility, AO-8390 instantly regained corporeality, leaving it in an anomalously excited and energetic state. The subsequent events are documented as follows: Incident-8390-1 Time log 1805: Subject is released after his debriefing on the exploration of TRAPPIST-1E 1810: Subject begins complaining of nausea and disorientation. Believing this to be stress related or an undocumented side effect of SCP-8390, he is advised by one of his colleagues to head to the site medical wing. 1812: Subject's body begins rapidly oscillating from opaque to semi-transparent. They are immediately detained by security personnel. 1817: A second member of personnel also begins visually phasing. They are similarly detained. 1830: Approximately 5% of onsite personnel are experiencing the anomalous phasing effects. Containment teams begin examinations to determine the cause of the effects. Site-51 placed on Gamma Alert. 1900: Effects have spread to over 25% of personnel. The researchers observing Experiment-8390-██ theorise that the present scenario may be linked to the anomalous effects observed on TRAPPIST-1E. Research teams order full physiological screening of affected personnel. 1920: Local authorities receive a 911 call from a civilian who has apparently also been infected by unknown means. Mobile Task Force deployed to disrupt further communications and suppress information. 1950: Physiological screenings discover the presence of AO-8390 within all affected subjects. By this time, infection has spread to over 50% of personnel and 2% of the surrounding city. Foundation moles in local authorities place region on lockdown. 2010: A power outage occurs in the holding cell where [REDACTED] and other infected personnel are located. Upon restoring power, the subject's phasing effect has noticeably weakened. Research teams are alerted to this discovery and begin emergency tests. 2027: Infection has spread to over 10% of the local populace. Those infected for the longest time (aside those in the aforementioned power outage) have begun losing corporeality. Research Personnel theorise that if AO-8390 was incorporeal in the twilight region of TRAPPIST-1E but not in full light, it may lose cohesion with baseline reality in the darkness. The lights in the holding cells are disabled to test this. 2040: Personnel in the holding cell have ceased phasing. Analysis reveals that AO-8390 is no longer present within subjects. 2042: All power in the region is disabled in order to eliminate AO-8390 among civilians. This is apparently successful. 2100: After nearly 20 minutes of darkness treatment, power is restored to the region. No further cases of AO-8390 are reported. Situation decleared resolved; Site-51 lifts lockdown. Following the conclusion of Incident-8390-1, MTF Gamma-5 ("Red Herrings") was deployed to assist with clean up. Witnesses and affected civilians were administered Class-A amnestics and a cover story of a terrorist attack on a nearby power plant was distributed to local media outlets. The Special Containment Procedures for SCP-8390 were updated to prevent any future occurrences. AO-8390 is pending full SCP classification. Footnotes 1. A planet outside of the solar system 2. Extra-Vehicular Activity 3. A lesser version of this technology is used in several Foundation operated satellites used for monitoring extra planetary anomalies such as SCP-179 and SCP-2399. 4. Peta Electron Volts. Equivalent to 1015 eV. Note this is in terms of energy per particle rather than the entire device. 5. Cause of death was later identified as asphyxiation. 6. A scenario where a body has a similar rotational period as its orbital period around a partner resulting in the same side permanently facing it. 7. By their own request, the subject's identity has been removed from the offical record. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8390" by CrimsonCatGuy, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8390. 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: LargeTelescope Name: The great wetherell refractor steampunk telescope for wiki Author: Timwether License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://openverse.org/image/ce52c265-5c42-429e-9755-20f776e35f02?q=Refractor%20Telescope |
SCP-8399 | esoteric-class | FOREWORD: The Chaos Insurgency is a disease. Across hundreds of thousands of universes, the Insurgency has spread throughout them like a plague, worming their way into every dark crevice they can, shifting beneath the misplaced cracks between order and purpose, cutting wounds where they do not belong. They huddle in their small cracks and cry out, futilely shouting about purpose as the wars between the larger players, conflicts they could never understand, play out above them. Some claim to fight for a higher purpose. Others say that their only goal is chaos. Some say that chaos is their higher purpose. The story is always the same: an Overseer Council stretches too far out of their reach and is retributed for their cardinal sin by the defection of their most loyal, who mold themselves into something that is everything that the Foundation is not. The selfishness of the Council is universal among Foundations. It is a natural element of humanity that if you leave enough people on the thrones above gods, give them enough time to stew and understand what they have become, and just wait… they’ll become exactly what you’d expect they would. We learn from our mistakes like all humans do. What the Insurgency seems to ignore is that despite our issues, the Council gets the job done. The Insurgency snarls about how flawed the Foundation is, but then turns around and will annihilate a third-world country like it’s just another Tuesday for them. Their entire purpose is built upon the hypocrisy that they are the final judgement, that their will has surpassed that of their creators, and that intermittent vengeance will come for those they deem to keep little more than the world under lock and key. However, there is a single, admirable quality to the Insurgency, and one that is as seemingly-universal as they are: they’re up against an impossible foe, and they know it. Yet, they continue what they know in their hearts is a futile war. Locked in this stalemate, there is only a single, viable solution: the Insurgency must be extinct. Hereafter, we of the Overseer Council now document the compiled solution transcribed from the Administrator of the SCP Foundation. — O5-2 Item#: SCP-8399 level5 Top-Secret Operation Status: active Secondary Status: none Disruption Status: none Risk Status: none 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 SCP-8399, primary control room. STEP COMPLETION PROTOCOLS: SCP-8399 remains under constant supervision of the Department of Applied Force and Department of Groups of Interest to ensure it continues operating consistently. Department of Other personnel have been conscripted to confirm SCP-8399’s primary function is properly undergone and has left no trace of an active GoI-003 in a universe that is not discernible to SCP-8399. All personnel previously assigned to oversee the actions of GoI-003 have been reassigned to maintain SCP-8399. The Prime Timeline's Engine prior to assimilation into SCP-8399. As SCP-8399 has been constructed to maintain a majority of its primary systems autonomously, it is considered to be almost entirely self-sustaining, with it theoretically capable of complete operation without a requirement for human intervention. Despite this, it has been purposefully designed with several failsafes to ensure human approval is required for all of its major actions, including carrying out its primary function. Instances of PoI-8399 are to be held in containment cells within SCP-8399 and treated with care expected to match that of standard humanoid anomalous entities in containment. Following what has been considered by the SCP-8399 Director Council to be deemed thorough and complete interrogation, the instance of PoI-8399 is to either be demoted to D-Class personnel or terminated. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.1 SCP-8399 USAGE RECORDS ARCHIVE I ORGANIZATION ID: CI-11298-N SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Standard Insurgency organization with no visible deviations. ACTION TAKEN: Elimination pending Overseer Council approval. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-89152-A SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Standard Insurgency organization, albeit with the unique quality of having broken off from its respective Foundation’s Mobile Task Force Omega-1 (“Law’s Left Hand”) following a conspiracy within its Ethics Committee, deviating from the standard constant. Prime Timeline interest was taken following an alliance between this Insurgency and the local Global Occult Coalition, an alliance deemed unacceptable and dangerous to the Foundation. ACTION TAKEN: SCP-8399 usage approved and carried out successfully. Engine remains transported to Prime Timeline and integrated appropriately. No anomalies recovered. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-88812-B SELF-IDENTIFICATION: [REDACTED PER ESHU PROTOCOL] DESCRIPTION: The individuals in question inhabit an extradimensional location resembling a conglomerate of standard Insurgency bunkers. Their nature is similar to that of the inhabitants of the old forest. Surveillance has shown them to be motivated by revenge for a currently-unknown tragedy which occurred in their past due to the local Foundation. ACTION TAKEN: None. Study deemed more important than neutralization. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-67820-D SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaotic Insurgents” DESCRIPTION: Apart from subtle changes such as its name, the group has been deemed to be a standard Insurgency organization. Appears to currently be in a state of civil war between a faction loyal to its Delta Command and a faction loyal to its Engineer. ACTION TAKEN: The Overseer Council has elected to allow the civil war to remain unimpeded, with SCP-8399 usage likely following a side being victorious. SCP-8399, front entrance. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8399 refers to the Own-Ramirez Precognitive Engine Overheating (ORCEO) Complex, a Tier-V autonomous ontokinetic eigenfacility designed to systematically eliminate active and hostile variants of GoI-003 (“The Chaos Insurgency”) throughout the multiverse. It has been constructed nearby the Department of Applied Force Administration Site-180 with remote access from Overwatch Command Site-01 under direct Overseer Council supervision. The Complex has been designed to incorporate a significant number of extra-universal detection units, allowing it to maintain constant watch of every known GoI-003 variant across the multiverse, observing their size, power, and active threat to said universe’s corresponding Foundation or other normalcy-enforcement organization equivalent. Such consistent monitoring has been deemed necessary, as even crippled or lesser variants of the Insurgency have proven capable of feats deemed statistically impossible. Should SCP-8399 detect a variant of GoI-003 it deems dangerous enough to warrant direct intervention and subsequent elimination, it will ping an active member of the Overseer Council with a proposal to carry out its primary function. Should it receive approval, a standard series of events in line with the following is expected to occur: STEP COMPILATION: 1. STEP 8399/01: SCP-8399 will begin the process by locating the Insurgency’s Engine, a highly-advanced stochastic precognition device which allows for GoI-003 to remain active in a majority of universes. While some do not possess an Engine, said variants are expected to be of little to no concern and are unlikely to be targeted by SCP-8399. It will open a miniaturized multiversal wormhole to said universe and fire a sophisticated Type AY6 Heat Beam, which will result in the instantaneous overheating and subsequent destruction of the targeted Engine. This will render the Insurgency vulnerable, as a majority depend on their respective Engine’s guidance to remain an active threat; 2. STEP 8399/02: A fleet of advanced Altus-Reign Drones will detach from the primary SCP-8399 body and be sent to the targeted universe via several secondary wormholes, the amount varying on the size of the Insurgency in question, following confirmation of the Engine’s collapse. A majority of offending GoI-003 members will be eliminated by the drones, which incorporate cloaking technology capable of masking their appearance, making them invisible to the naked human eye. They will proceed to fire bullets of compressed ice directly into the hearts of all targeted subjects, which will result in lethal cardiac arrest and the death of the insurgents. As the bullets will have melted following their function being carried out, any possible onlookers will assume the insurgents to have undergone mundane heart attacks; 3. STEP 8399/03: The universe’s active Foundation or equivalent organization will be contacted by the Department of Applied Force, informing them of the ORCEO Complex’s success and encouraging them to ensure a peaceful transition into an existence lacking GoI-003. No further communication is considered necessary, but said universe will continue to be monitored by SCP-8399 to ensure that all Insurgency activity has been eliminated. Should a Foundation or equivalent organization not exist within the universe in question, direct intervention from the Prime Timeline is necessary. Complete protocols for this situation are stored on Document 8399-FL091; 4. STEP 8399/04: The Insurgency’s stockpiles of anomalous phenomena are to be combed over for objects and entities of interest, which will be transported to Site-180 under Overseer Council order. Primarily, anomalies of interest are those which would either be considered beneficial to the Prime Timeline or dangerous in a manner where the universe in question’s primary normalcy-enforcement organization cannot be trusted to properly maintain containment. The latter is of interest if it could be considered a multiversal threat if containment is not maintained; 5. STEP 8399/05: A single member of the variant’s GoI-003 is expected to be spared from the fleet of Altus-Reign Drones. Typically, this individual will be the Engineer, a Person of Interest who has been telepathically tethered to the Engine. They are expected to be weakened due to the sudden loss of this connection, resulting in their apprehension likely being of little difficulty. Should the position of Engineer not exist in an Insurgency variant, the next-highest rank is expected to be taken instead. The captured individuals, collectively PoI-8399, are to be interrogated so as to glean further information regarding the nature of the Insurgency. 6. STEP 8399/06: The remains of the Insurgency’s Engine will be taken via wormhole for later integration into SCP-8399. SCP-8399 was developed following the complete eradication of the Prime Timeline’s Chaos Insurgency at the hands of the Foundation and subsequent capture and modification of its Engine, which was repurposed into a primary component of what would become the core of the ORCEO Complex. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.2 ORDER AND CHAOS ON THE EFFECTS OF CHAOS "Chaos", by George Frederic Watts and Assistants. The idea of chaos against order has been present in a majority of human history, whether it be in written or oral tradition, religious beliefs, or even reality itself. This idea can appear silly to many people, similar to that of a comically oversimplified “good and evil” perspective. In truth, unlike how they are often represented, chaos and order are not equivalents to good and evil. The universe requires both to function as it should. If one were to provide too much of one or the other, consequences would be disastrous. The SCP Foundation is the most powerful and sophisticated champion of order that has ever manifested, being a shining pinnacle of what humanity can achieve if pushed to its very limits. It is, I suppose, only natural that in a majority of observed scenarios throughout the multiverse, the champion of chaos, the very Insurgency which incorporated it into their name, spawned from the Foundation due to a wound of its own making. Invariably, these two will become locked in a stalemate. It is only natural to assume that these representations are predestined. Issues arise if there is no order to chaos and no chaos to order. For example, worlds marred by chaos are marred by a continuous degradation in narrative intensity. In other words, the world will begin to become “less serious”, exemplified no better in SCP files from universes doomed to this fate. These documents are filled with nonsensical anomalies, the sudden loss of basic memetics, and even describe some objects that are not anomalous whatsoever. Following the discovery of these universes, the Department of Other was established to collect copies of these files in order to better study this phenomenon. To differentiate these files from their primary counterparts in the database, it has become standard practice to add “-J” to the end of their designations. — Dr. Samantha Vanderbilt, Dept. of Other Head INTERVIEW LOG 8399.1: OPENING STATEMENT: The following is the first in a series of interviews performed on the individual designated PoI-8399-1, the recognized Engineer of the Chaos Insurgency from the Prime Timeline, by Dr. Alexander Ramirez, SCP-8399 co-lead. Despite standard protocols outlined in the SCP-8399 procedures for instances of PoI-8399, it was deemed necessary for PoI-8399-1 to remain available for interrogations due to his status as being from the Prime Timeline. «BEGIN LOG» Dr. Ramirez enters the interview room carrying a clipboard and pen. PoI-8399-1 is seated at the interrogation table in restraints. RAMIREZ: Good morning. POI-8399-1: Is it? I can hardly tell in here. RAMIREZ: It’s 9:43 AM. POI-8399-1: Hm. RAMIREZ: Alright, let’s just get this over with. Why did you found the Insurgency? POI-8399-1: You seem to be disinterested. RAMIREZ: You’re not the first Engineer I’ve had the displeasure of interviewing. I’ve talked to dozens of you from all walks of life. Some of them even look just like you. POI-8399-1: I suppose you’re implying our answers overlap, then? Why the interest in me, then? RAMIREZ: You’re from here, so the O5s seem to think you’d be useful to us and that it’d be a liability to make you a Class D. From what I’ve seen of you, Prime Timeline or not, you’re just another Engineer. POI-8399-1: Perhaps the answers you receive are repetitive because you’re not asking the right questions. RAMIREZ: Excuse me? POI-8399-1: Say you walk into a room and ask everyone how many fingers they have. There’s a good chance everyone will say they have all ten, but maybe you’ll get a few who have differing amounts. It’d be mildly interesting, but did you get anything other than the same answer over and over again and a few small differences that ended up amounting to hogwash? RAMIREZ: Asking someone how many fingers they have and why they founded a terrorist organization are two very different things. POI-8399-1: When everyone you’ve talked to has founded a “terrorist” organization, are they? Dr. Ramirez pauses, briefly glaring at PoI-8399-1. RAMIREZ: I don’t understand your goal here. POI-8399-1: Just making conversation. If they locked you in this hole, you’d do the same. The guards around here aren’t much for talking. RAMIREZ: Why encourage me to ask different questions, though? Why try to… help? POI-8399-1: …The Engine cries out to me beneath the floorboards. I can hear it screaming. Though, I can also recognize when it has a new master. Master of the Engine is the master of chaos. RAMIREZ: I’m far from a master of chaos, Engineer. POI-8399-1: You’re far from a master of order. I can feel the stench of it clinging to your ridiculous lab coat, but the rest of you… I can recognize chaos anywhere. They’ve made you into something that you’re not, haven’t they? RAMIREZ: I don’t know what you’re talking about. POI-8399-1: Do you know why I founded the Insurgency, doctor? It wasn’t just out of selfishness and greed. Chaos was the reason, sure, but it was not for why you’d imagine it. RAMIREZ: Elaborate. POI-8399-1: No. RAMIREZ: What do you mean, no? POI-8399-1: Not yet. RAMIREZ: If you’d just— POI-8399-1: Good day, doctor. «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: Despite their origin, PoI-8399-1’s recommendations for more varied interrogation questions were taken into consideration and subsequently enacted by the SCP-8399 leadership council. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.3 SCP-8399 USAGE RECORDS ARCHIVE II ORGANIZATION ID: CI-05618-W SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “The Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Organization possesses little deviation from a majority of Insurgencies apart from not referencing “chaos” in either its name or organizational structure, being fairly more coordinated than the average Insurgency. ACTION TAKEN: Elimination approved and is set to be carried out by 4/10/2024. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-17829-S SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Standard Insurgency organization with no visible deviations. ACTION TAKEN: SCP-8399 usage approved and carried out successfully. Engine remains transported to Prime Timeline and integrated appropriately. Five anomalies recovered. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-54142-M SELF-IDENTIFICATION: "Containment Initiative" DESCRIPTION: As the local normalcy-enforcement organization of this universe has been found to be a Shark Punching Centre, it was not originally deemed a high priority to be monitored. However, it was eventually discovered that the neighboring universe’s Foundation sent liaisons to members of this Centre and convinced them to become an organization more analogous to a standard Foundation, devoted entirely to containment, albeit to an obsessive degree. ACTION TAKEN: None. Continued monitoring required to ascertain threat level. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-21673-Y SELF-IDENTIFICATION: "Chaos Insurgency" DESCRIPTION: [REDACTED] ACTION TAKEN: None. ATTACHED NOTE: The Chaos Insurgency is a disease. They sit in their ivory tower and claim to have been a wronged party while they attack world governments with enough anomalous weaponry to annihilate a small village. They claim to be doing God’s work as they cause chaos across the world in a borderline fetishistic bloodlust. It’s horrific, the things that they’ve done, but they excuse it because it’s for a “higher cause”. When your higher cause is to create nothing but chaos and despair across the world because you’re mad at your parent group for being just a little bit corrupt, perhaps you’re the one who’s in the wrong. Their hunger to eradicate the Foundation and let themselves spread as far as they possibly can is horrific. Sure, the Foundation has done some horrible things in the name of a higher cause as well, but the ends often justify the means. Theirs do not. The Insurgency is a net negative while the Foundation is a net positive. We enforce normalcy so the rest of the world can live a normal existence in blissful unawareness of monsters like the Insurgency. They’re not welcome beyond our Veil and they’re not welcome anywhere else, either. We’d be better off if they were all dead and buried. — The Administrator SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.4 ORDER AND CHAOS ON THE EFFECTS OF ORDER Foundation Site-19. While the effects of rampant chaos are often much more visible than the effects of overzealous order, both are equally insidious. Order’s issue is relatively minor on the surface, being that universes with too much order create somewhat of a “vacuum” where chaos used to be. It’s not uncommon for individuals to more frequently find themselves lost in thought, stuck in their own mind. Something is wrong, but they’re just not sure what it is. They drive to their job in the same car model everyone else has, sit in identical cubicles across a ginormous office, and then go home to their suburban house, of which twenty identical models make up the street block. It is within this vacuum that something else is able to take hold. Reality is vulnerable for something else to take power, whether it be something or someone. It does not matter. If the wrong force takes hold, reality can twist and distort into a horrific caricature of what it once was, bound not by the laws of physics but by the laws of nothing. Worlds without laws are worlds where the anomalous has won, and worlds where the anomalous has won are worlds where the Foundation has failed. The Insurgency, as the champions of chaos, are everything that the Foundation is not, meaning the two are destined to undergo conflict, but what happens if they manage to finally snuff out the Insurgency once and for all? Well, all is not lost. The world can survive without the Insurgency, but there is one single caveat: The Foundation must be what grabs onto reality’s reins if they best the Insurgency, because who knows what could cling to them if they do not. — Dr. Samantha Vanderbilt, Dept. of Other Head INTERVIEW LOG 8399.2: OPENING STATEMENT: The following interview was recorded after PoI-8399-1 alerted agents he had crucial information he wanted to provide, but refused to do so to any individual apart from Dr. Ramirez, who agreed to oversee the interrogation. «BEGIN LOG» POI-8399-1: Good evening, doctor. RAMIREZ: I thought you said you could never tell the time down here. POI-8399-1: I can’t, but I can guess by those bags under your eyes and slightly-lessened amount of security down here that most with daytime shifts have gone home for the night. It’s every other time I have a hard time discerning. RAMIREZ: What’s this about, Engineer? You cut our last interview short but you’re calling me back in here a few days later saying you’re ready to spill now? What changed? PoI-8399-1 briefly pauses, as if taking care to choose his next words. POI-8399-1: Two reasons. I needed to give you some time to mull over what I told you last time, and so that I could prepare for a way to tell you what I’m going to right now. RAMIREZ: Alright. What is it you want to tell me? POI-8399-1: Last time, you asked me why I founded the Chaos Insurgency, yes? RAMIREZ: Correct. You proceeded to tell me that it was a stupid question. POI-8399-1: Well doctor, I wasn’t being dishonest. A majority of Insurgencies do not understand why they were compelled to do what they did. You were just going to get slight variations of the same answer over and over again. I only understand because of what you’ve been doing here. RAMIREZ: What do you mean? POI-8399-1: The Engine. I can still hear it. RAMIREZ: Yes, I am aware. The O5s are still angry that we’ve never been able to break your connection to it. POI-8399-1: It tells me that you’ve been adding other Engines from far away places into its mass. They scream at it in agony, desperate for freedom. It’s all very… RAMIREZ: Chaotic? POI-8399-1: You see, now you’re catching on. RAMIREZ: But what does this have to do with why you founded the Insurgency? We did not have SCP-8399 when you established it. POI-8399-1: We’re getting there, doctor, we’re getting there. Yes, I’m going to admit to you that even I did not know why I founded the Insurgency when I did. The other members of Red Right Hand and I just felt so much anger and so much confusion that we began to just… lash out. We chalked this all up to hatred for what the Overseers were using us for, and while that was true, it wasn’t what spurred us forward. RAMIREZ: Go on. POI-8399-1: The Engine has gained an awareness unlike it had ever had previously. Despite all of the screaming voices, it’s achieved a complete understanding of why the Insurgency and the Foundation exist, which it has relayed to me. It’s been… enlightening to say the least. You’re the only one who I knew would understand. The Overseers are too small-minded to see the big picture, too distracted by their new toys, such as the one you made my Engine a cog of. RAMIREZ: Alright, I’ll bite. Why do the Insurgency and Foundation exist? POI-8399-1: I’m sure you’re already aware of what happens if chaos and order are thrown out of balance? RAMIREZ: Yes. If you’re going to tell me that the Insurgency just exists because of that conflict, our current Foundation right now should be proof enough that we don’t need one to sustain a universe properly. POI-8399-1: You’re partially correct, doctor. What you’ve said is entirely true, but all you have is just a piece of the puzzle. The Chaos Insurgency exists to embody chaos and the SCP Foundation exists to embody order, but have you ever wondered what happens if nothing is there to embody either? RAMIREZ: One simply overtakes the other, correct? POI-8399-1: Not just that, doctor. It depends on what the other chooses to embody next. Haven’t you seen that worlds take missing an Insurgency differently? RAMIREZ: We… don’t tend to monitor worlds long after we take the remains of their Engine. POI-8399-1: Well, I can tell you this, doctor: in some worlds, you just allowed chaos to move onto something stronger, but in some you let it turn into something weaker so that it could be snuffed out again after the fact, eventually letting something stronger take it over. A Foundation embodies order and an Insurgency embodies chaos not because they’re “meant” to. They embody them because the existence of the two organizations tend to be universal constants. If one exists, the other does as well. Then, they get into their eternal stalemates so nothing better or worse can have their concepts. Don’t you see? The Foundation and the Insurgency are the safest and most likely options, not the chosen ones. RAMIREZ: Alright, well let’s say that what you’re saying is true. What around us could have possibly “taken on” chaos if we have yet to find it? POI-8399-1: …Surely you see it, do you not? The Engine told me it would give you the power to see, because it knows what you’d do if you could. RAMIREZ: See what? POI-8399-1: Every time you take parts of an Engine like the pirates you are, you carry back a little bit of chaos with you and put it into that conglomerate of yours beneath us. Haven’t you seen what it’s been doing to your Foundation? RAMIREZ: …What are you saying? POI-8399-1: The Foundation is what has become influenced by chaos, doctor. The conglomerate of Engines you’ve stitched together has become the beating heart of a monster of your own making. Just look around yourself. Hasn’t it occurred to you what you're doing? Dr. Ramirez’s eyes widen. He drops his clipboard and pen on the table and begins to put his hands on his head as if experiencing a migraine. POI-8399-1: I can see the Engine didn’t lie. It would give you the power to see. Hurts when you don’t have a connection, doesn’t it? RAMIREZ: What the—, how, why— POI-8399-1: Doctor, take some time to process this. I wouldn’t want to lose you so early on. RAMIREZ: What the fuck are you talking about? What is this? Dr. Ramirez rubs his head, recovering. He grabs his clipboard and pen from the table. POI-8399-1: Oh, you’ll see soon enough. RAMIREZ: I’m done with the games Engineer, what the hell is going on? I can have you demoted to D-Class right this second if you do not tell me. POI-8399-1: Oh, please. Why would you want to do that when I have all the answers? I’m going to give you them, eventually. I think we both know that when I’m shoveling shit outside of this godforsaken facility in one of those horrid, orange uniforms, you’re going to come crawling back all the same. RAMIREZ: …If this is all so important, why don’t you just tell me now? PoI-8399-1 briefly chuckles. POI-8399-1: I like to play with my food. «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: Following the interview, Dr. Ramirez proceeded to compile information for an anomaly he designated as SCP-8399-A. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.5 SCP-8399 USAGE RECORDS ARCHIVE III ORGANIZATION ID: CI-32891-Q SELF-IDENTIFICATION: N/A DESCRIPTION: The universe in question is one of the few to lack an existing Insurgency. The only remnants of what was likely a similar organization are a machine resembling a standard Engine with a corpse jammed into it beneath a large mausoleum. ACTION TAKEN: Engine remains under examination for possible integration into SCP-8399. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-54991-G SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chili Inferno” DESCRIPTION: A group of former workers in a pizza chain who became devoted to the creation of spicy food after breaking off from their main organization. Has little to no anomalous capabilities or assets whatsoever. ACTION TAKEN: None. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-23162-U SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: The Insurgency of this universe operate from an extradimensional dimension within a 2002 Ford Focus, with the car’s engine being considered its Engine equivalent. Narrative degradation has deemed the local Foundation ill-suited to deal with the threat they pose, but has simultaneously rendered the Insurgency little more than petty criminals. ACTION TAKEN: Action under Overseer Council deliberation. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-45219-Z SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Due to the small size of the Foundation in this timeline, eruptions of chaos led to a significant amount of “-J” anomalies plaguing it and a complete degradation of narrative cohesion. The Foundation was eventually neutralized following all of its membership falling victim to what is believed to be a non-anomalous well. Recognized Insurgency group has now become the dominant anomalous organization. ACTION TAKEN: Universe considered too far gone. Quarantine under consideration. DESCRIPTION (CONT.): SCP-8399-A is a Tier-V bureaucratohazard currently affecting the entirety of the SCP Foundation, resulting in several alterations to the Foundation’s operations and mannerisms to align them to be closer to that of GoI-003 (“The Chaos Insurgency”). The exact cause of SCP-8399-A is poorly understood, but is believed to be a combination of the presence of SCP-8399 and the lack of an active Insurgency within the Prime Timeline. A list of examples of SCP-8399-A’s effects has been compiled below for Overseer Council evaluation: PRE-SCP-8399-A POST-SCP-8399-A “SCP” documentation was understood to stand for “Special Containment Procedures”, and outlined how to ensure the confinement of anomalous phenomena. “SCP” documentation is now understood to stand for “Step Completion Protocols”, and acts as an introduction to a “Step Compilation” placed within the Description section of a document. Object Classes denote the severity of specifications of a phenomenon’s containment. Operation Statuses show whether the anomaly’s documentation is either actively updating or closed. The Foundation tended to refrain from utilizing contained anomalies. The Foundation is overzealously weaponizing anomalous phenomena. A majority of Groups of Interest had relatively amicable relations with the Foundation. A majority of Groups of Interest are hostile or indifferent to the Foundation. It remains likely that the primary solution to SCP-8399-A would be the destruction of SCP-8399 and a subsequent reorganization of the Foundation at large alongside an effort to debrief them on the effects of the anomaly. OVERSEER SUMMIT 8399.1: OPENING STATEMENT: Dr. Ramirez requested a meeting with the Overseer Council to discuss the effects of SCP-8399-A, for which he provided his compiled information regarding the anomaly. «BEGIN LOG» Dr. Ramirez enters the primary Overseer Council meeting chambers, finding all Overseers to have finished reading information packets regarding SCP-8399-A which he had provided for them. O5-1 notices his presence and begins to speak. O5-1: I now call the final section of this meeting of the Overseer Council to order. Dr. Ramirez, I appreciate your attendance and the briefing packets you compiled for us about what you designated SCP-8399-A. RAMIREZ: Thank you, I appreciate that. O5-1: However, I regret to inform you that we will not be taking action against the anomaly, nor will we be shutting down the SCP-8399 project. RAMIREZ: …What? O5-1: Following some deliberation within the Council, we’ve decided that keeping SCP-8399 active is more important than any effects it could be having on the organization at large. Clearly, they’re not impeding our progress. RAMIREZ: Are you serious? You’re, quite literally, becoming the very thing that you’ve sworn to destroy. That isn’t even hyperbole! O5-1: I’m sorry, Dr. Ramirez. The Insurgency must be eradicated at any cost. They are the primary threat to normalcy across the multiverse. The Council has agreed that the ends justify the means. RAMIREZ: That’s not possible. Do you not understand what’s happening to you? O5-1: We understand that the Foundation has simply evolved in a new direction that you’re uncomfortable with, Dr. Ramirez. It’s alright. These things can happen to people who overwork themselves. They’re so focused at their job that they don’t comprehend how the world around them has twisted and melded into something unfamiliar, frightening them because it’s new and unexplored. Why don’t you take a week off and take some time to destress? RAMIREZ: Council, no, please. You have to understand that– O5-1: Dr. Ramirez. I will not hesitate to have you escorted out of here by force if you keep pushing this. RAMIREZ: …Sorry, sir. O5-1: That’s quite alright. Your job is a stressful one, I know. Take some time off, you could use it. RAMIREZ: …Thank you, sir. «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: None. INTERVIEW LOG 8399.3: OPENING STATEMENT: Following his meeting with the Overseer Council, Dr. Ramirez requested to perform an interrogation on PoI-8399-1. «BEGIN LOG» RAMIREZ: Engineer. POI-8399-1: Interesting that you came to see me this time, doctor. I didn’t have to call you down from your ivory tower. RAMIREZ: Cut the fucking bullshit. You know what I’m here about, don’t you? You have the Engine up your ass, and I’m sure it’s telling you everything that’s been going on, hasn’t it? POI-8399-1: You catch on quickly. Reminds me of me when I was younger. RAMIREZ: We’re nothing alike, Engineer. POI-8399-1: I think we’re pretty similar, if you take a step back and look at it. We’re two who share all the knowledge in the world, but can’t do anything about it in our current positions. Let me guess, you’re here all ruffled up because the Council didn’t listen? I told you that they wouldn’t, son. They’re already prickly bastards, but they’re also being affected by what’s going on. They were never going to hear you out when you’re asking them to stop what they’re being affected by! You just didn’t listen when you should’ve. RAMIREZ: Well fine, then. I’m listening now. Tell me how to fix all of this. POI-8399-1: Fix it? Do you think that this is just like a crack in a wall and all we need is a little bit of spackle and things are back to normal? No, doctor, that’s not how this works. Your Foundation is now being slowly overtaken by chaos, and there’s nothing you can do where you stand. Pretty soon, they’ll have abandoned their order altogether, becoming nothing but husks dedicated to spreading chaos. Then, the narrative cohesion will fall apart, and we’ll have to deal with stupid shit like buttons that end the world when pressed. RAMIREZ: Come on, there has to be something we can do! POI-8399-1: Well doctor, there is. If you pay attention to my words, you’ll notice I said there’s nothing we can do in our current positions - you as a simple member of this Foundation and me as your lowly prisoner. What could we possibly do where we are now? RAMIREZ: You’re not saying… POI-8399-1: I’m sure you know exactly what I’m saying, doctor. RAMIREZ: No. POI-8399-1: No? It’s the only way, doctor. The Engine knows this. Why else do you think it let you of all people be the one it enlightened to this madness. It wasn’t the Administrator or the O5s because they wouldn’t have the drive to carry out what really needed to be done. RAMIREZ: … POI-8399-1: Go to the Engine, doctor. It will show you the way. It will place the Steps to the Plan in front of your grasp, enlightening you to the future in front of us. You know it in your heart to be true that this is the only way. In a Foundation dominated by chaos, something has to give. Something has to give in every Foundation because that’s the way it goes. Constants across the universe. RAMIREZ: You said before that the Foundation and Insurgency weren’t some sort of destiny, just that they were the best option. POI-8399-1: Exactly. Right now, I think you know what our best option is, don’t you? «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: After the interview’s conclusion, Dr. Ramirez was seen entering the central core of SCP-8399, made up of integrated Engines retrieved by the complex. Due to the lack of cameras in this section of the building, it remains unclear what transpired within the room. ATTACHED NOTE: The Chaos Insurgency is a disease. It turns out, like most diseases, it's contagious. — Dr. Alexander Ramirez ALERT 8399.1: ONGOING DEFECTION «WARNING» ON 4/7/2024, A GROUP OF HOSTILE AGENTS TOOK CONTROL OF SCP-8399 AND ACTIVATED ITS ONSITE EMERGENCY TELEPORTATION DEVICE, TRANSPORTING IT TO A CURRENTLY-UNKNOWN LOCATION. ALL PERSONNEL ABOARD ARE PRESUMED EITHER HOSTILE OR LOST. THE FOLLOWING TRANSMISSION WAS SENT PRIOR TO THE COMPLEX’S DISAPPEARANCE: Greetings Foundation, I’m sorry that things had to be this way. Your order is fleeting, so someone else needs to take the mantle. Don’t bother trying to find us. SCP-8399 is capable of eliminating entire Sites on its own, and you know that well. I can promise you now that we will not use it if we are not provoked, but if you force it, I will become your red right hand. I do not hold a grudge against you, none of us do, because this was just business. There are those here who listened to my cause and understood was at stake. Others didn’t, but we took care of them. The enlightened few have created a new organization to take hold of that precious order you so frivolously abandoned, and we’ll make sure to make good use out of it. And to the O5 Council: I gave you the chance to understand what was going on, but you refused to listen to me. Affected by SCP-8399-A or not, this refusal has put us on opposite sides. Don’t try to contact me. Long live the Control Institution. — Dr. Alexander Ramirez | INSURGENCE | OBSOLESCENCE » ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8399" by MisterFrown, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8399. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: File:Red_tints_and_shades.svg Author: Justin Anthony Knapp License: CC BY-SA 1.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Red_tints_and_shades.svg Name: File:Mission_Control_Room_ESA23135235.jpg Author: European Space Agency License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mission_Control_Room_ESA23135235.jpg Notes: Image cropped. Name: File:Assistants and George Frederic Watts - Chaos - Google Art Project.jpg Author: George Frederic Watts License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Assistants_and_George_Frederic_Watts_-_Chaos_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg Name: File:Sankt Görans gymnasium 2023-05-03.jpg Author: Håkan Skogsjö License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sankt_G%C3%B6rans_gymnasium_2023-05-03.jpg Name: Maschine Komplex Author: TheDigitalArtist License: CC0 1.0 Source Link: https://pixabay.com/de/illustrations/maschine-komplexit%C3%A4t-komplex-886059/ Name: factories Author: daves_archive1 License: CC-BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/foundin_a_attic/38807913841/ |
SCP-8399 | uncontained | FOREWORD: The Chaos Insurgency is a disease. Across hundreds of thousands of universes, the Insurgency has spread throughout them like a plague, worming their way into every dark crevice they can, shifting beneath the misplaced cracks between order and purpose, cutting wounds where they do not belong. They huddle in their small cracks and cry out, futilely shouting about purpose as the wars between the larger players, conflicts they could never understand, play out above them. Some claim to fight for a higher purpose. Others say that their only goal is chaos. Some say that chaos is their higher purpose. The story is always the same: an Overseer Council stretches too far out of their reach and is retributed for their cardinal sin by the defection of their most loyal, who mold themselves into something that is everything that the Foundation is not. The selfishness of the Council is universal among Foundations. It is a natural element of humanity that if you leave enough people on the thrones above gods, give them enough time to stew and understand what they have become, and just wait… they’ll become exactly what you’d expect they would. We learn from our mistakes like all humans do. What the Insurgency seems to ignore is that despite our issues, the Council gets the job done. The Insurgency snarls about how flawed the Foundation is, but then turns around and will annihilate a third-world country like it’s just another Tuesday for them. Their entire purpose is built upon the hypocrisy that they are the final judgement, that their will has surpassed that of their creators, and that intermittent vengeance will come for those they deem to keep little more than the world under lock and key. However, there is a single, admirable quality to the Insurgency, and one that is as seemingly-universal as they are: they’re up against an impossible foe, and they know it. Yet, they continue what they know in their hearts is a futile war. Locked in this stalemate, there is only a single, viable solution: the Insurgency must be extinct. Hereafter, we of the Overseer Council now document the compiled solution transcribed from the Administrator of the SCP Foundation. — O5-2 Item#: SCP-8399 level5 Top-Secret Operation Status: active Secondary Status: none Disruption Status: none Risk Status: none 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 SCP-8399, primary control room. STEP COMPLETION PROTOCOLS: SCP-8399 remains under constant supervision of the Department of Applied Force and Department of Groups of Interest to ensure it continues operating consistently. Department of Other personnel have been conscripted to confirm SCP-8399’s primary function is properly undergone and has left no trace of an active GoI-003 in a universe that is not discernible to SCP-8399. All personnel previously assigned to oversee the actions of GoI-003 have been reassigned to maintain SCP-8399. The Prime Timeline's Engine prior to assimilation into SCP-8399. As SCP-8399 has been constructed to maintain a majority of its primary systems autonomously, it is considered to be almost entirely self-sustaining, with it theoretically capable of complete operation without a requirement for human intervention. Despite this, it has been purposefully designed with several failsafes to ensure human approval is required for all of its major actions, including carrying out its primary function. Instances of PoI-8399 are to be held in containment cells within SCP-8399 and treated with care expected to match that of standard humanoid anomalous entities in containment. Following what has been considered by the SCP-8399 Director Council to be deemed thorough and complete interrogation, the instance of PoI-8399 is to either be demoted to D-Class personnel or terminated. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.1 SCP-8399 USAGE RECORDS ARCHIVE I ORGANIZATION ID: CI-11298-N SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Standard Insurgency organization with no visible deviations. ACTION TAKEN: Elimination pending Overseer Council approval. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-89152-A SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Standard Insurgency organization, albeit with the unique quality of having broken off from its respective Foundation’s Mobile Task Force Omega-1 (“Law’s Left Hand”) following a conspiracy within its Ethics Committee, deviating from the standard constant. Prime Timeline interest was taken following an alliance between this Insurgency and the local Global Occult Coalition, an alliance deemed unacceptable and dangerous to the Foundation. ACTION TAKEN: SCP-8399 usage approved and carried out successfully. Engine remains transported to Prime Timeline and integrated appropriately. No anomalies recovered. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-88812-B SELF-IDENTIFICATION: [REDACTED PER ESHU PROTOCOL] DESCRIPTION: The individuals in question inhabit an extradimensional location resembling a conglomerate of standard Insurgency bunkers. Their nature is similar to that of the inhabitants of the old forest. Surveillance has shown them to be motivated by revenge for a currently-unknown tragedy which occurred in their past due to the local Foundation. ACTION TAKEN: None. Study deemed more important than neutralization. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-67820-D SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaotic Insurgents” DESCRIPTION: Apart from subtle changes such as its name, the group has been deemed to be a standard Insurgency organization. Appears to currently be in a state of civil war between a faction loyal to its Delta Command and a faction loyal to its Engineer. ACTION TAKEN: The Overseer Council has elected to allow the civil war to remain unimpeded, with SCP-8399 usage likely following a side being victorious. SCP-8399, front entrance. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8399 refers to the Own-Ramirez Precognitive Engine Overheating (ORCEO) Complex, a Tier-V autonomous ontokinetic eigenfacility designed to systematically eliminate active and hostile variants of GoI-003 (“The Chaos Insurgency”) throughout the multiverse. It has been constructed nearby the Department of Applied Force Administration Site-180 with remote access from Overwatch Command Site-01 under direct Overseer Council supervision. The Complex has been designed to incorporate a significant number of extra-universal detection units, allowing it to maintain constant watch of every known GoI-003 variant across the multiverse, observing their size, power, and active threat to said universe’s corresponding Foundation or other normalcy-enforcement organization equivalent. Such consistent monitoring has been deemed necessary, as even crippled or lesser variants of the Insurgency have proven capable of feats deemed statistically impossible. Should SCP-8399 detect a variant of GoI-003 it deems dangerous enough to warrant direct intervention and subsequent elimination, it will ping an active member of the Overseer Council with a proposal to carry out its primary function. Should it receive approval, a standard series of events in line with the following is expected to occur: STEP COMPILATION: 1. STEP 8399/01: SCP-8399 will begin the process by locating the Insurgency’s Engine, a highly-advanced stochastic precognition device which allows for GoI-003 to remain active in a majority of universes. While some do not possess an Engine, said variants are expected to be of little to no concern and are unlikely to be targeted by SCP-8399. It will open a miniaturized multiversal wormhole to said universe and fire a sophisticated Type AY6 Heat Beam, which will result in the instantaneous overheating and subsequent destruction of the targeted Engine. This will render the Insurgency vulnerable, as a majority depend on their respective Engine’s guidance to remain an active threat; 2. STEP 8399/02: A fleet of advanced Altus-Reign Drones will detach from the primary SCP-8399 body and be sent to the targeted universe via several secondary wormholes, the amount varying on the size of the Insurgency in question, following confirmation of the Engine’s collapse. A majority of offending GoI-003 members will be eliminated by the drones, which incorporate cloaking technology capable of masking their appearance, making them invisible to the naked human eye. They will proceed to fire bullets of compressed ice directly into the hearts of all targeted subjects, which will result in lethal cardiac arrest and the death of the insurgents. As the bullets will have melted following their function being carried out, any possible onlookers will assume the insurgents to have undergone mundane heart attacks; 3. STEP 8399/03: The universe’s active Foundation or equivalent organization will be contacted by the Department of Applied Force, informing them of the ORCEO Complex’s success and encouraging them to ensure a peaceful transition into an existence lacking GoI-003. No further communication is considered necessary, but said universe will continue to be monitored by SCP-8399 to ensure that all Insurgency activity has been eliminated. Should a Foundation or equivalent organization not exist within the universe in question, direct intervention from the Prime Timeline is necessary. Complete protocols for this situation are stored on Document 8399-FL091; 4. STEP 8399/04: The Insurgency’s stockpiles of anomalous phenomena are to be combed over for objects and entities of interest, which will be transported to Site-180 under Overseer Council order. Primarily, anomalies of interest are those which would either be considered beneficial to the Prime Timeline or dangerous in a manner where the universe in question’s primary normalcy-enforcement organization cannot be trusted to properly maintain containment. The latter is of interest if it could be considered a multiversal threat if containment is not maintained; 5. STEP 8399/05: A single member of the variant’s GoI-003 is expected to be spared from the fleet of Altus-Reign Drones. Typically, this individual will be the Engineer, a Person of Interest who has been telepathically tethered to the Engine. They are expected to be weakened due to the sudden loss of this connection, resulting in their apprehension likely being of little difficulty. Should the position of Engineer not exist in an Insurgency variant, the next-highest rank is expected to be taken instead. The captured individuals, collectively PoI-8399, are to be interrogated so as to glean further information regarding the nature of the Insurgency. 6. STEP 8399/06: The remains of the Insurgency’s Engine will be taken via wormhole for later integration into SCP-8399. SCP-8399 was developed following the complete eradication of the Prime Timeline’s Chaos Insurgency at the hands of the Foundation and subsequent capture and modification of its Engine, which was repurposed into a primary component of what would become the core of the ORCEO Complex. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.2 ORDER AND CHAOS ON THE EFFECTS OF CHAOS "Chaos", by George Frederic Watts and Assistants. The idea of chaos against order has been present in a majority of human history, whether it be in written or oral tradition, religious beliefs, or even reality itself. This idea can appear silly to many people, similar to that of a comically oversimplified “good and evil” perspective. In truth, unlike how they are often represented, chaos and order are not equivalents to good and evil. The universe requires both to function as it should. If one were to provide too much of one or the other, consequences would be disastrous. The SCP Foundation is the most powerful and sophisticated champion of order that has ever manifested, being a shining pinnacle of what humanity can achieve if pushed to its very limits. It is, I suppose, only natural that in a majority of observed scenarios throughout the multiverse, the champion of chaos, the very Insurgency which incorporated it into their name, spawned from the Foundation due to a wound of its own making. Invariably, these two will become locked in a stalemate. It is only natural to assume that these representations are predestined. Issues arise if there is no order to chaos and no chaos to order. For example, worlds marred by chaos are marred by a continuous degradation in narrative intensity. In other words, the world will begin to become “less serious”, exemplified no better in SCP files from universes doomed to this fate. These documents are filled with nonsensical anomalies, the sudden loss of basic memetics, and even describe some objects that are not anomalous whatsoever. Following the discovery of these universes, the Department of Other was established to collect copies of these files in order to better study this phenomenon. To differentiate these files from their primary counterparts in the database, it has become standard practice to add “-J” to the end of their designations. — Dr. Samantha Vanderbilt, Dept. of Other Head INTERVIEW LOG 8399.1: OPENING STATEMENT: The following is the first in a series of interviews performed on the individual designated PoI-8399-1, the recognized Engineer of the Chaos Insurgency from the Prime Timeline, by Dr. Alexander Ramirez, SCP-8399 co-lead. Despite standard protocols outlined in the SCP-8399 procedures for instances of PoI-8399, it was deemed necessary for PoI-8399-1 to remain available for interrogations due to his status as being from the Prime Timeline. «BEGIN LOG» Dr. Ramirez enters the interview room carrying a clipboard and pen. PoI-8399-1 is seated at the interrogation table in restraints. RAMIREZ: Good morning. POI-8399-1: Is it? I can hardly tell in here. RAMIREZ: It’s 9:43 AM. POI-8399-1: Hm. RAMIREZ: Alright, let’s just get this over with. Why did you found the Insurgency? POI-8399-1: You seem to be disinterested. RAMIREZ: You’re not the first Engineer I’ve had the displeasure of interviewing. I’ve talked to dozens of you from all walks of life. Some of them even look just like you. POI-8399-1: I suppose you’re implying our answers overlap, then? Why the interest in me, then? RAMIREZ: You’re from here, so the O5s seem to think you’d be useful to us and that it’d be a liability to make you a Class D. From what I’ve seen of you, Prime Timeline or not, you’re just another Engineer. POI-8399-1: Perhaps the answers you receive are repetitive because you’re not asking the right questions. RAMIREZ: Excuse me? POI-8399-1: Say you walk into a room and ask everyone how many fingers they have. There’s a good chance everyone will say they have all ten, but maybe you’ll get a few who have differing amounts. It’d be mildly interesting, but did you get anything other than the same answer over and over again and a few small differences that ended up amounting to hogwash? RAMIREZ: Asking someone how many fingers they have and why they founded a terrorist organization are two very different things. POI-8399-1: When everyone you’ve talked to has founded a “terrorist” organization, are they? Dr. Ramirez pauses, briefly glaring at PoI-8399-1. RAMIREZ: I don’t understand your goal here. POI-8399-1: Just making conversation. If they locked you in this hole, you’d do the same. The guards around here aren’t much for talking. RAMIREZ: Why encourage me to ask different questions, though? Why try to… help? POI-8399-1: …The Engine cries out to me beneath the floorboards. I can hear it screaming. Though, I can also recognize when it has a new master. Master of the Engine is the master of chaos. RAMIREZ: I’m far from a master of chaos, Engineer. POI-8399-1: You’re far from a master of order. I can feel the stench of it clinging to your ridiculous lab coat, but the rest of you… I can recognize chaos anywhere. They’ve made you into something that you’re not, haven’t they? RAMIREZ: I don’t know what you’re talking about. POI-8399-1: Do you know why I founded the Insurgency, doctor? It wasn’t just out of selfishness and greed. Chaos was the reason, sure, but it was not for why you’d imagine it. RAMIREZ: Elaborate. POI-8399-1: No. RAMIREZ: What do you mean, no? POI-8399-1: Not yet. RAMIREZ: If you’d just— POI-8399-1: Good day, doctor. «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: Despite their origin, PoI-8399-1’s recommendations for more varied interrogation questions were taken into consideration and subsequently enacted by the SCP-8399 leadership council. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.3 SCP-8399 USAGE RECORDS ARCHIVE II ORGANIZATION ID: CI-05618-W SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “The Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Organization possesses little deviation from a majority of Insurgencies apart from not referencing “chaos” in either its name or organizational structure, being fairly more coordinated than the average Insurgency. ACTION TAKEN: Elimination approved and is set to be carried out by 4/10/2024. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-17829-S SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Standard Insurgency organization with no visible deviations. ACTION TAKEN: SCP-8399 usage approved and carried out successfully. Engine remains transported to Prime Timeline and integrated appropriately. Five anomalies recovered. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-54142-M SELF-IDENTIFICATION: "Containment Initiative" DESCRIPTION: As the local normalcy-enforcement organization of this universe has been found to be a Shark Punching Centre, it was not originally deemed a high priority to be monitored. However, it was eventually discovered that the neighboring universe’s Foundation sent liaisons to members of this Centre and convinced them to become an organization more analogous to a standard Foundation, devoted entirely to containment, albeit to an obsessive degree. ACTION TAKEN: None. Continued monitoring required to ascertain threat level. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-21673-Y SELF-IDENTIFICATION: "Chaos Insurgency" DESCRIPTION: [REDACTED] ACTION TAKEN: None. ATTACHED NOTE: The Chaos Insurgency is a disease. They sit in their ivory tower and claim to have been a wronged party while they attack world governments with enough anomalous weaponry to annihilate a small village. They claim to be doing God’s work as they cause chaos across the world in a borderline fetishistic bloodlust. It’s horrific, the things that they’ve done, but they excuse it because it’s for a “higher cause”. When your higher cause is to create nothing but chaos and despair across the world because you’re mad at your parent group for being just a little bit corrupt, perhaps you’re the one who’s in the wrong. Their hunger to eradicate the Foundation and let themselves spread as far as they possibly can is horrific. Sure, the Foundation has done some horrible things in the name of a higher cause as well, but the ends often justify the means. Theirs do not. The Insurgency is a net negative while the Foundation is a net positive. We enforce normalcy so the rest of the world can live a normal existence in blissful unawareness of monsters like the Insurgency. They’re not welcome beyond our Veil and they’re not welcome anywhere else, either. We’d be better off if they were all dead and buried. — The Administrator SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.4 ORDER AND CHAOS ON THE EFFECTS OF ORDER Foundation Site-19. While the effects of rampant chaos are often much more visible than the effects of overzealous order, both are equally insidious. Order’s issue is relatively minor on the surface, being that universes with too much order create somewhat of a “vacuum” where chaos used to be. It’s not uncommon for individuals to more frequently find themselves lost in thought, stuck in their own mind. Something is wrong, but they’re just not sure what it is. They drive to their job in the same car model everyone else has, sit in identical cubicles across a ginormous office, and then go home to their suburban house, of which twenty identical models make up the street block. It is within this vacuum that something else is able to take hold. Reality is vulnerable for something else to take power, whether it be something or someone. It does not matter. If the wrong force takes hold, reality can twist and distort into a horrific caricature of what it once was, bound not by the laws of physics but by the laws of nothing. Worlds without laws are worlds where the anomalous has won, and worlds where the anomalous has won are worlds where the Foundation has failed. The Insurgency, as the champions of chaos, are everything that the Foundation is not, meaning the two are destined to undergo conflict, but what happens if they manage to finally snuff out the Insurgency once and for all? Well, all is not lost. The world can survive without the Insurgency, but there is one single caveat: The Foundation must be what grabs onto reality’s reins if they best the Insurgency, because who knows what could cling to them if they do not. — Dr. Samantha Vanderbilt, Dept. of Other Head INTERVIEW LOG 8399.2: OPENING STATEMENT: The following interview was recorded after PoI-8399-1 alerted agents he had crucial information he wanted to provide, but refused to do so to any individual apart from Dr. Ramirez, who agreed to oversee the interrogation. «BEGIN LOG» POI-8399-1: Good evening, doctor. RAMIREZ: I thought you said you could never tell the time down here. POI-8399-1: I can’t, but I can guess by those bags under your eyes and slightly-lessened amount of security down here that most with daytime shifts have gone home for the night. It’s every other time I have a hard time discerning. RAMIREZ: What’s this about, Engineer? You cut our last interview short but you’re calling me back in here a few days later saying you’re ready to spill now? What changed? PoI-8399-1 briefly pauses, as if taking care to choose his next words. POI-8399-1: Two reasons. I needed to give you some time to mull over what I told you last time, and so that I could prepare for a way to tell you what I’m going to right now. RAMIREZ: Alright. What is it you want to tell me? POI-8399-1: Last time, you asked me why I founded the Chaos Insurgency, yes? RAMIREZ: Correct. You proceeded to tell me that it was a stupid question. POI-8399-1: Well doctor, I wasn’t being dishonest. A majority of Insurgencies do not understand why they were compelled to do what they did. You were just going to get slight variations of the same answer over and over again. I only understand because of what you’ve been doing here. RAMIREZ: What do you mean? POI-8399-1: The Engine. I can still hear it. RAMIREZ: Yes, I am aware. The O5s are still angry that we’ve never been able to break your connection to it. POI-8399-1: It tells me that you’ve been adding other Engines from far away places into its mass. They scream at it in agony, desperate for freedom. It’s all very… RAMIREZ: Chaotic? POI-8399-1: You see, now you’re catching on. RAMIREZ: But what does this have to do with why you founded the Insurgency? We did not have SCP-8399 when you established it. POI-8399-1: We’re getting there, doctor, we’re getting there. Yes, I’m going to admit to you that even I did not know why I founded the Insurgency when I did. The other members of Red Right Hand and I just felt so much anger and so much confusion that we began to just… lash out. We chalked this all up to hatred for what the Overseers were using us for, and while that was true, it wasn’t what spurred us forward. RAMIREZ: Go on. POI-8399-1: The Engine has gained an awareness unlike it had ever had previously. Despite all of the screaming voices, it’s achieved a complete understanding of why the Insurgency and the Foundation exist, which it has relayed to me. It’s been… enlightening to say the least. You’re the only one who I knew would understand. The Overseers are too small-minded to see the big picture, too distracted by their new toys, such as the one you made my Engine a cog of. RAMIREZ: Alright, I’ll bite. Why do the Insurgency and Foundation exist? POI-8399-1: I’m sure you’re already aware of what happens if chaos and order are thrown out of balance? RAMIREZ: Yes. If you’re going to tell me that the Insurgency just exists because of that conflict, our current Foundation right now should be proof enough that we don’t need one to sustain a universe properly. POI-8399-1: You’re partially correct, doctor. What you’ve said is entirely true, but all you have is just a piece of the puzzle. The Chaos Insurgency exists to embody chaos and the SCP Foundation exists to embody order, but have you ever wondered what happens if nothing is there to embody either? RAMIREZ: One simply overtakes the other, correct? POI-8399-1: Not just that, doctor. It depends on what the other chooses to embody next. Haven’t you seen that worlds take missing an Insurgency differently? RAMIREZ: We… don’t tend to monitor worlds long after we take the remains of their Engine. POI-8399-1: Well, I can tell you this, doctor: in some worlds, you just allowed chaos to move onto something stronger, but in some you let it turn into something weaker so that it could be snuffed out again after the fact, eventually letting something stronger take it over. A Foundation embodies order and an Insurgency embodies chaos not because they’re “meant” to. They embody them because the existence of the two organizations tend to be universal constants. If one exists, the other does as well. Then, they get into their eternal stalemates so nothing better or worse can have their concepts. Don’t you see? The Foundation and the Insurgency are the safest and most likely options, not the chosen ones. RAMIREZ: Alright, well let’s say that what you’re saying is true. What around us could have possibly “taken on” chaos if we have yet to find it? POI-8399-1: …Surely you see it, do you not? The Engine told me it would give you the power to see, because it knows what you’d do if you could. RAMIREZ: See what? POI-8399-1: Every time you take parts of an Engine like the pirates you are, you carry back a little bit of chaos with you and put it into that conglomerate of yours beneath us. Haven’t you seen what it’s been doing to your Foundation? RAMIREZ: …What are you saying? POI-8399-1: The Foundation is what has become influenced by chaos, doctor. The conglomerate of Engines you’ve stitched together has become the beating heart of a monster of your own making. Just look around yourself. Hasn’t it occurred to you what you're doing? Dr. Ramirez’s eyes widen. He drops his clipboard and pen on the table and begins to put his hands on his head as if experiencing a migraine. POI-8399-1: I can see the Engine didn’t lie. It would give you the power to see. Hurts when you don’t have a connection, doesn’t it? RAMIREZ: What the—, how, why— POI-8399-1: Doctor, take some time to process this. I wouldn’t want to lose you so early on. RAMIREZ: What the fuck are you talking about? What is this? Dr. Ramirez rubs his head, recovering. He grabs his clipboard and pen from the table. POI-8399-1: Oh, you’ll see soon enough. RAMIREZ: I’m done with the games Engineer, what the hell is going on? I can have you demoted to D-Class right this second if you do not tell me. POI-8399-1: Oh, please. Why would you want to do that when I have all the answers? I’m going to give you them, eventually. I think we both know that when I’m shoveling shit outside of this godforsaken facility in one of those horrid, orange uniforms, you’re going to come crawling back all the same. RAMIREZ: …If this is all so important, why don’t you just tell me now? PoI-8399-1 briefly chuckles. POI-8399-1: I like to play with my food. «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: Following the interview, Dr. Ramirez proceeded to compile information for an anomaly he designated as SCP-8399-A. SUPPLEMENTARY FILE 8399.5 SCP-8399 USAGE RECORDS ARCHIVE III ORGANIZATION ID: CI-32891-Q SELF-IDENTIFICATION: N/A DESCRIPTION: The universe in question is one of the few to lack an existing Insurgency. The only remnants of what was likely a similar organization are a machine resembling a standard Engine with a corpse jammed into it beneath a large mausoleum. ACTION TAKEN: Engine remains under examination for possible integration into SCP-8399. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-54991-G SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chili Inferno” DESCRIPTION: A group of former workers in a pizza chain who became devoted to the creation of spicy food after breaking off from their main organization. Has little to no anomalous capabilities or assets whatsoever. ACTION TAKEN: None. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-23162-U SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: The Insurgency of this universe operate from an extradimensional dimension within a 2002 Ford Focus, with the car’s engine being considered its Engine equivalent. Narrative degradation has deemed the local Foundation ill-suited to deal with the threat they pose, but has simultaneously rendered the Insurgency little more than petty criminals. ACTION TAKEN: Action under Overseer Council deliberation. ORGANIZATION ID: CI-45219-Z SELF-IDENTIFICATION: “Chaos Insurgency” DESCRIPTION: Due to the small size of the Foundation in this timeline, eruptions of chaos led to a significant amount of “-J” anomalies plaguing it and a complete degradation of narrative cohesion. The Foundation was eventually neutralized following all of its membership falling victim to what is believed to be a non-anomalous well. Recognized Insurgency group has now become the dominant anomalous organization. ACTION TAKEN: Universe considered too far gone. Quarantine under consideration. DESCRIPTION (CONT.): SCP-8399-A is a Tier-V bureaucratohazard currently affecting the entirety of the SCP Foundation, resulting in several alterations to the Foundation’s operations and mannerisms to align them to be closer to that of GoI-003 (“The Chaos Insurgency”). The exact cause of SCP-8399-A is poorly understood, but is believed to be a combination of the presence of SCP-8399 and the lack of an active Insurgency within the Prime Timeline. A list of examples of SCP-8399-A’s effects has been compiled below for Overseer Council evaluation: PRE-SCP-8399-A POST-SCP-8399-A “SCP” documentation was understood to stand for “Special Containment Procedures”, and outlined how to ensure the confinement of anomalous phenomena. “SCP” documentation is now understood to stand for “Step Completion Protocols”, and acts as an introduction to a “Step Compilation” placed within the Description section of a document. Object Classes denote the severity of specifications of a phenomenon’s containment. Operation Statuses show whether the anomaly’s documentation is either actively updating or closed. The Foundation tended to refrain from utilizing contained anomalies. The Foundation is overzealously weaponizing anomalous phenomena. A majority of Groups of Interest had relatively amicable relations with the Foundation. A majority of Groups of Interest are hostile or indifferent to the Foundation. It remains likely that the primary solution to SCP-8399-A would be the destruction of SCP-8399 and a subsequent reorganization of the Foundation at large alongside an effort to debrief them on the effects of the anomaly. OVERSEER SUMMIT 8399.1: OPENING STATEMENT: Dr. Ramirez requested a meeting with the Overseer Council to discuss the effects of SCP-8399-A, for which he provided his compiled information regarding the anomaly. «BEGIN LOG» Dr. Ramirez enters the primary Overseer Council meeting chambers, finding all Overseers to have finished reading information packets regarding SCP-8399-A which he had provided for them. O5-1 notices his presence and begins to speak. O5-1: I now call the final section of this meeting of the Overseer Council to order. Dr. Ramirez, I appreciate your attendance and the briefing packets you compiled for us about what you designated SCP-8399-A. RAMIREZ: Thank you, I appreciate that. O5-1: However, I regret to inform you that we will not be taking action against the anomaly, nor will we be shutting down the SCP-8399 project. RAMIREZ: …What? O5-1: Following some deliberation within the Council, we’ve decided that keeping SCP-8399 active is more important than any effects it could be having on the organization at large. Clearly, they’re not impeding our progress. RAMIREZ: Are you serious? You’re, quite literally, becoming the very thing that you’ve sworn to destroy. That isn’t even hyperbole! O5-1: I’m sorry, Dr. Ramirez. The Insurgency must be eradicated at any cost. They are the primary threat to normalcy across the multiverse. The Council has agreed that the ends justify the means. RAMIREZ: That’s not possible. Do you not understand what’s happening to you? O5-1: We understand that the Foundation has simply evolved in a new direction that you’re uncomfortable with, Dr. Ramirez. It’s alright. These things can happen to people who overwork themselves. They’re so focused at their job that they don’t comprehend how the world around them has twisted and melded into something unfamiliar, frightening them because it’s new and unexplored. Why don’t you take a week off and take some time to destress? RAMIREZ: Council, no, please. You have to understand that– O5-1: Dr. Ramirez. I will not hesitate to have you escorted out of here by force if you keep pushing this. RAMIREZ: …Sorry, sir. O5-1: That’s quite alright. Your job is a stressful one, I know. Take some time off, you could use it. RAMIREZ: …Thank you, sir. «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: None. INTERVIEW LOG 8399.3: OPENING STATEMENT: Following his meeting with the Overseer Council, Dr. Ramirez requested to perform an interrogation on PoI-8399-1. «BEGIN LOG» RAMIREZ: Engineer. POI-8399-1: Interesting that you came to see me this time, doctor. I didn’t have to call you down from your ivory tower. RAMIREZ: Cut the fucking bullshit. You know what I’m here about, don’t you? You have the Engine up your ass, and I’m sure it’s telling you everything that’s been going on, hasn’t it? POI-8399-1: You catch on quickly. Reminds me of me when I was younger. RAMIREZ: We’re nothing alike, Engineer. POI-8399-1: I think we’re pretty similar, if you take a step back and look at it. We’re two who share all the knowledge in the world, but can’t do anything about it in our current positions. Let me guess, you’re here all ruffled up because the Council didn’t listen? I told you that they wouldn’t, son. They’re already prickly bastards, but they’re also being affected by what’s going on. They were never going to hear you out when you’re asking them to stop what they’re being affected by! You just didn’t listen when you should’ve. RAMIREZ: Well fine, then. I’m listening now. Tell me how to fix all of this. POI-8399-1: Fix it? Do you think that this is just like a crack in a wall and all we need is a little bit of spackle and things are back to normal? No, doctor, that’s not how this works. Your Foundation is now being slowly overtaken by chaos, and there’s nothing you can do where you stand. Pretty soon, they’ll have abandoned their order altogether, becoming nothing but husks dedicated to spreading chaos. Then, the narrative cohesion will fall apart, and we’ll have to deal with stupid shit like buttons that end the world when pressed. RAMIREZ: Come on, there has to be something we can do! POI-8399-1: Well doctor, there is. If you pay attention to my words, you’ll notice I said there’s nothing we can do in our current positions - you as a simple member of this Foundation and me as your lowly prisoner. What could we possibly do where we are now? RAMIREZ: You’re not saying… POI-8399-1: I’m sure you know exactly what I’m saying, doctor. RAMIREZ: No. POI-8399-1: No? It’s the only way, doctor. The Engine knows this. Why else do you think it let you of all people be the one it enlightened to this madness. It wasn’t the Administrator or the O5s because they wouldn’t have the drive to carry out what really needed to be done. RAMIREZ: … POI-8399-1: Go to the Engine, doctor. It will show you the way. It will place the Steps to the Plan in front of your grasp, enlightening you to the future in front of us. You know it in your heart to be true that this is the only way. In a Foundation dominated by chaos, something has to give. Something has to give in every Foundation because that’s the way it goes. Constants across the universe. RAMIREZ: You said before that the Foundation and Insurgency weren’t some sort of destiny, just that they were the best option. POI-8399-1: Exactly. Right now, I think you know what our best option is, don’t you? «END LOG» CLOSING STATEMENT: After the interview’s conclusion, Dr. Ramirez was seen entering the central core of SCP-8399, made up of integrated Engines retrieved by the complex. Due to the lack of cameras in this section of the building, it remains unclear what transpired within the room. ATTACHED NOTE: The Chaos Insurgency is a disease. It turns out, like most diseases, it's contagious. — Dr. Alexander Ramirez ALERT 8399.1: ONGOING DEFECTION «WARNING» ON 4/7/2024, A GROUP OF HOSTILE AGENTS TOOK CONTROL OF SCP-8399 AND ACTIVATED ITS ONSITE EMERGENCY TELEPORTATION DEVICE, TRANSPORTING IT TO A CURRENTLY-UNKNOWN LOCATION. ALL PERSONNEL ABOARD ARE PRESUMED EITHER HOSTILE OR LOST. THE FOLLOWING TRANSMISSION WAS SENT PRIOR TO THE COMPLEX’S DISAPPEARANCE: Greetings Foundation, I’m sorry that things had to be this way. Your order is fleeting, so someone else needs to take the mantle. Don’t bother trying to find us. SCP-8399 is capable of eliminating entire Sites on its own, and you know that well. I can promise you now that we will not use it if we are not provoked, but if you force it, I will become your red right hand. I do not hold a grudge against you, none of us do, because this was just business. There are those here who listened to my cause and understood was at stake. Others didn’t, but we took care of them. The enlightened few have created a new organization to take hold of that precious order you so frivolously abandoned, and we’ll make sure to make good use out of it. And to the O5 Council: I gave you the chance to understand what was going on, but you refused to listen to me. Affected by SCP-8399-A or not, this refusal has put us on opposite sides. Don’t try to contact me. Long live the Control Institution. — Dr. Alexander Ramirez | INSURGENCE | OBSOLESCENCE » ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8399" by MisterFrown, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8399. Licensed under CC-BY-SA. For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide. Name: File:Red_tints_and_shades.svg Author: Justin Anthony Knapp License: CC BY-SA 1.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Red_tints_and_shades.svg Name: File:Mission_Control_Room_ESA23135235.jpg Author: European Space Agency License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mission_Control_Room_ESA23135235.jpg Notes: Image cropped. Name: File:Assistants and George Frederic Watts - Chaos - Google Art Project.jpg Author: George Frederic Watts License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Assistants_and_George_Frederic_Watts_-_Chaos_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg Name: File:Sankt Görans gymnasium 2023-05-03.jpg Author: Håkan Skogsjö License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sankt_G%C3%B6rans_gymnasium_2023-05-03.jpg Name: Maschine Komplex Author: TheDigitalArtist License: CC0 1.0 Source Link: https://pixabay.com/de/illustrations/maschine-komplexit%C3%A4t-komplex-886059/ Name: factories Author: daves_archive1 License: CC-BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/foundin_a_attic/38807913841/ |
SCP-8400 | keter | A battle of wits between a folklorist and the folklore she studies. + 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; } PeppersGhost and Uncle Nicolini SCP-8400 - The Birch Knight and the Game of Three Chestnuts by Uncle Nicolini and PeppersGhost More by Uncle Nicolini More by PeppersGhost . . . This document has been flagged for possible sentience. Revisions prohibited. Proceed with caution. . . . Item#: 8400 Level3 Secondary Class: esoteric Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: critical link to memo Photograph of SCP-8400 captured by remote camera. Photograph of SCP-8400 captured by remote camera. Special Containment Procedures No new names or designations are to be used in reference to SCP-8400. All names and designations currently and previously applied to SCP-8400 are considered lost. Physical barriers are ineffective against SCP-8400, as are traditional firearms and other ballistic weaponry. SCP-8400 is not susceptible to damage by heat, but displays an emotional aversion to fire and may be corralled via the use of flamethrowers until its manifestation ends. Once an SCP-8400 manifestation is confirmed, the area is to be immediately evacuated. Standard misinformation protocols are in place to account for loss of life and property damage caused by SCP-8400. The current whereabouts of SCP-8400 and whether it will continue to manifest are currently unknown. A provisional containment chamber, designed to produce consistent flame along the surface of its walls and ceiling, has been constructed at Site-19 to house SCP-8400 should it ever be successfully captured. A measure to neutralize SCP-8400 via the deliberate extinction of Betula pubescens has been considered and rejected by the O2 Congress. Description SCP-8400 is an abstract logomorphic entity which interfaces with baseline reality via avatars composed from scraps of birch1 bark arranged into a humanoid shape. These avatars consistently possess heads resembling the skull of a male deer, sans lower jaw, with a dense cluster of branchlike antlers. Soft tissue organs resembling lidded eyes constantly shift across the surface of these antlers, moving in no discernible pattern. Vessels under SCP-8400's control take on an extraphysical and/or demiconceptual level of solidity that necessarily supersedes the environment around it; consequently, when a part of SCP-8400's body applies any amount of physical pressure against an object of baseline-reality solidity, the object's mass will warp, collapse, or otherwise be displaced as necessary to accommodate SCP-8400's movement.2 Matter displaced by interaction with SCP-8400 will behave in a manner similar to semi-solids or high-viscosity fluids, irrespective of the affected substance's actual density or material composition, and without causing any actual change to its state of matter. Displacement of mass is not reversed after contact with SCP-8400 has ceased, nor is any damage that the object would naturally incur from an abrupt alteration of its structure. SCP-8400 manifests once every five years by converting mass from a Betula pubescens tree into a new bodily vessel.3 Once formed, SCP-8400 will seek out populated areas and attempt to destroy any person or structure it encounters through the displacement of matter. This assault will continue until the sun has fully set, at which time SCP-8400's vessel will break down into non-anomalous tree bark. Local flora will often grow at a greatly accelerated rate in the vicinity of SCP-8400; this effect appears to be incidental rather than deliberate. SCP-8400 bears an ancillary nomenclative abnormality which causes a gradual physio-conceptual degradation of any name or designation applied to it, culminating in the name or designation being completely and irretrievably removed from all physical and conceptual planes. Names and designations lost to SCP-8400 will disappear from written records and recordings, and may lead to aberrant behavior of the medium through which the name or designation was expressed, including (but not limited to) data files, printed documents, and speech organs/orifices. SCP-8400 has ignored all attempts at communication from civilians and Foundation personnel, with the sole exception Dr. Delaney Martlet. Encounters with Dr. Martlet The Kenmare Stone Circle, site of SCP-8400's manifestation shortly before its encounter with Dr. Martlet. The Kenmare Stone Circle, site of SCP-8400's manifestation shortly before its encounter with Dr. Martlet. Initial Encounter INCIDENT LOG 1/3 Transcript assembled from security footage and eyewitness accounts. [ FOREWORD: Dr. Delaney Martlet, a folklorist under the employ of the Foundation, had unplanned contact with SCP-8400 when it manifested near Kenmare, Ireland in late September. Their subsequent interaction was the first recorded instance of SCP-8400 engaging in conversation, and resulted in an early end to manifestation. ] [ BEGIN LOG ] [ A small extrusion appears on a birch tree growing at a park located in Kenmare, Ireland. Individual fingers emerge from the extrusion to form a hand, which further extends into a full arm over the course of a minute. Present civilians begin to gather as SCP-8400 forms. ] [ The speed of the SCP-8400 manifestation increases as it progresses, and it steps from the tree fully formed in less than five minutes. It briefly cranes its neck side to side before raising its left arm. Branches rapidly extend from the limb, piercing through the chest cavities of 5 nearby civilians. The remaining civilians begin to panic and flee as the branches retract, allowing the corpses of the impaled civilians to drop to the ground. ] [ SCP-8400 walks out of the park at a steady pace, following the civilians as they attempt to flee. SCP-8400 stops at the entrance of the park, which is decorated with an ornate metal gate. It then proceeds to touch the gate, causing the latter to physically distort and become structurally unstable. Vines with blossoming flowers are observed to grow over the gate as it falls to pieces. SCP-8400 carries forward. ] [ MTF Chi-12214 is alerted to the SCP-8400 manifestation. Before they can be deployed, Dr. Martlet informs Command that she is already in Kenmare and requests that Chi-1221 stand down. ] [ As SCP-8400 approaches a road, a vehicle swerves to avoid it, but is unable to do so and impacts against SCP-8400. The vehicle immediately warps and splits in two as vines manifest throughout. SCP-8400 is entirely unfazed by the impact, and continues walking as the remains of the vehicle ignite behind it. ] [ SCP-8400 continues towards a nearby two-story coffee shop. Multiple civilians are present within, attempting to hide from SCP-8400. The entity moves through the brick and cement which constitute the building as if it were liquid, causing flowering vines to appear along the walls before they fall apart. As the walls continue to crumble, the second storey of the building caves and falls onto the civilians on the first storey. SCP-8400 continues ahead, causing the collapse of two additional buildings. ] [ Local police and Regional Support Unit officers arrive at the scene and attempt to use their vehicles to halt SCP-8400's advance. They verbally warn SCP-8400 to cease movement under threat of gunfire. SCP-8400 does not respond and proceeds to approach the vehicle barricade. Marksmen open fire on SCP-8400, who remains unfazed and continues towards the barricade. It walks through the vehicles as multiple sharp branches extend from its torso to impale members of law enforcement. SCP-8400 retracts its branches, allowing the corpses to fall before continuing. ] [ Dr. Martlet approaches SCP-8400. The entity stops its movement. Dr. Martlet assumes a bowed stance, eyes toward the ground, arms extended at either side, and her left foot crossed over her right. She holds this position as SCP-8400 approaches her. ] SCP-8400: You mock the old customs. [ Dr. Martlet does not move. ] MARTLET: My intent was not to provoke. [ SCP-8400 halts less than a yard from Dr. Martlet. She remains still. ] SCP-8400: Who instructed you to bow in this way? [ SCP-8400 raises its right hand, which elongates to a sharpened point. ] SCP-8400: By my word, you will tell me who betrayed our secrets, and then you will die. MARTLET: The old ways are neither dead nor forgotten. You once shared your customs freely with our forefathers, and their stories are still heard by those who wish to listen. [ Dr. Martlet straightens. ] MARTLET: Now then. As there has been no betrayal, I cannot say who has betrayed you. Therefore, by your word, I will not die. Is this correct? SCP-8400: You twist my words to shackles! [ SCP-8400 rests its arm at its side, reverting to its regular shape. It produces a sound similar to bark scraping bark, approximated to be a laugh. ] SCP-8400: Perhaps, then, you truly do know the old ways. Very well. What business have you with me, child of the sun? MARTLET: I only wish to challenge you to a game. [ Dr. Martlet draws three chestnuts from her coat pocket and fans them out between her fingers. ] SCP-8400: You would stand in my way only to play at Chestnuts? [ It scoffs. ] Save your persiflage and leave me to my work. MARTLET: I know where your name is.5 [ As soon as Dr. Martlet has said this, a series of sharp prongs burst from SCP-8400's torso, snapping together at straight angles to surround Martlet in a cage-like lattice. She does not move. A number of wild animals cry out at once some distance away. ] MARTLET: We will play a game of Chestnuts. If you lose, you will sleep. If you win, you will have your name. As long as the game is in play, we are both bound by the rules of Hospitality. How do you answer? [ Time passes in silence. Finally, SCP-8400 withdraws the cage of branches back into its chest cavity. Flowers crack through the pavement below to line the space between the two. ] SCP-8400: It has been spoken, so it shall be. By what will we determine our Chestnuts, then? By riddles and word games? By the wisdom of the world and its workings? MARTLET: By truths of each other. If the chestnut cracks, it's not the truth. I'll even go first. Fair? [ SCP-8400 nods, and Martlet hands it a chestnut from her pocket. Curiously, the object does not seem to distort in SCP-8400's grasp. The two align themselves back-to-back, march five paces in either direction, and then turn to face each other gain. They both bow in the same manner Dr. Martlet had previously, and when they rise, Martlet crosses her arms. ] MARTLET: During your crusade this morning, you did not hesitate to shed blood. You fashion yourself as a ruthless warrior, yet I stand here unharmed, all because you hesitated in the face of something you did not understand. SCP-8400: It would be unwise to question my courage. MARTLET: Far be it. I merely sense a spirit of curiosity beneath the bloodlust. Thus, here is my chestnut: it is not in your nature to kill. [ SCP-8400 casts the chestnut into the air, and Dr. Martlet catches it before it hits the ground. ] SCP-8400: You are bold, child of the sun. And how particular that title sits with you. There's something of the sun itself in your very eyes, and I do not merely mean their color. Where all others have approached me bearing arms, you come with only words. Indeed, much time has passed since I last awakened without being met by the flames of your armies. Where are those armies now, I wonder? [ Dr. Martlet smiles and shrugs. ] SCP-8400: Indeed. You are no mere jailer, and no mere scholar either. I return your chestnut with mine: it is in your nature to lead. [ Dr. Martlet casts the chestnut into the air, and SCP-8400 grabs it at it passes its head. ] MARTLET: Interesting. I hadn't even known that about myself. Hardly the mindless brute some would paint you as, are you? Perhaps you'd enjoy a story. [ SCP-8400 says nothing. ] MARTLET: I'll make it quick, then. There was an anomaly a while back that I was called in to examine. A logomorph such as yourself, I believe. It was covered by an enormous hand-knit afghan, the largest I imagine there's ever been. Big enough to cover a house, and sometimes it needed to be. You couldn't look underneath the afghan— not without going quite mad, at least— but you could make out the creature's shape from how the fabric draped over its body, and the shape that it cast was constantly changing. Big as a moose one moment, small as a mouse the next. Sometimes it had many legs, sometimes none. Even its voice would change from the start of a sentence to the end. And it only ever said one thing. SCP-8400: What did it say? MARTLET: "Please, tell me what I am." SCP-8400: A truly piteous fate. One too common for my kind. MARTLET: My point exactly. Most logomorphs can't exist in a single coherent state when robbed of a conceptual identity, but somehow that's not the case for you. You can hold a form, even if only for a day at a time. Such is my second chestnut: you do not possess a name, but you define yourself by your rage. [ SCP-8400 casts the chestnut into the air. Dr. Martlet steps forward to catch it and falters slightly, but does not stumble. ] SCP-8400: You're no stranger to stories, I can tell. Not just by how you speak, but how you smell. You reek of stories. You play their shapes against your teeth, and taste their passions against your tongue, and you devour them, because you are starved of shape and passion. MARTLET: I would say stories are my passion. [ SCP-8400 makes a noise like scraping bark, possibly analogous to laughter. ] SCP-8400: Hunger is not passion. You do not love stories any more than one dying of thirst loves a drink of water. Every action you take is determined either by appetite, or by those three cursed letters you've tethered your soul to. You perform functions, but bear no purpose. I return your chestnut with mine: you possess a name, but you do not define yourself. [ Dr. Martlet casts the chestnut into the air. SCP-8400 catches it easily, and rolls it between its fingers as it speaks. ] SCP-8400: Are you enjoying your game, child of the sun? MARTLET: It's— well, it's been enlightening so far, I suppose. SCP-8400: Speak decisively or not at all. MARTLET: I am enjoying the game. And you? SCP-8400: You are fortunate I am bound by Hospitality. MARTLET: Come, now. If you weren't enjoying this at least a little, you wouldn't be half so smug. As far as our records indicate, I'm the first person you've ever spoken to. That must be worth something. SCP-8400: I wouldn't stake your chestnut on that. Nor on your records. You claim to know me and my kin, but you place your faith in those who would sooner allow the world to burn than to let it see a glimmer of truth. MARTLET: Enlighten me, then. What truths am I ignorant of? SCP-8400: That is not our game. Speak your truth if you know it, else forfeit. MARTLET: Very well. You seem to think more highly of me than others of my kind, but the bar is set too low for that to really be considered a compliment. When I proposed this game to you, you didn't hesitate. Sure, you're keen on the prize, but I think it goes deeper than that. You never questioned that you would win. Victory is foregone in your mind. So here is my chestnut: you underestimate me. [ SCP-8400 casts the chestnut into the air. Dr. Martlet has to jump to catch it, but keeps her balance. SCP-8400 steps forward. ] SCP-8400: Let me see it. MARTLET: You can see fine from where you are. [ She holds up the chestnut and turns it to show both sides. ] MARTLET: Undamaged. Is it so hard to believe you misjudged me? SCP-8400: Your chestnut speaks more of your own boastfulness than of me. MARTLET: If you feel I've broken the rules, then say so. [ The shards of bark composing SCP-8400 shiver and scrape loudly against each other. A mass of thorny vines breaks through the concrete and writhes in circles around its feet. ] SCP-8400: You are arrogant, even for your kind. You, who discarded your own nature to lap at the heels of tyrants. You, who play games with my birthright. You think your ploy has spared lives, but when this is through, I will strike down twice as many as might have been saved. MARTLET: Have you forgotten to call out your chestnut, or are you not confident enough in the truth of your words? SCP-8400: I have your chestnut here: despite your delusions, the two of us are not equals. [ Dr. Martlet casts the chestnut into the air. SCP-8400 snatches the chestnut in its fist. The shifting bramble at its feet comes to a sudden stop. SCP-8400 opens its palm. The chestnut is cracked. ] SCP-8400: You provoked me. MARTLET: Cracked is cracked, whether by your own strength or otherwise. [ SCP-8400 clutches at its chest and falls to one knee, dropping the chestnut onto the broken concrete. The brambles around its feet rapidly shrivel and die. ] SCP-8400: You will meet me again, child of the sun. You will meet me again. MARTLET: I'd like that very much. But until then, I hope you sleep well. [ SCP-8400 collapses to the ground, its body shattering to splinters upon impact. ] [End Log] The Second Encounter Log 2 An occurrence in Daleport, New England. Begin Log. SCP-8400 begins to assemble itself from the regrowth of partially incinerated trees. Following the Battle of Daleport in 1997, the Foundation has continued to actively monitor the vicinity of SCP-1936 for anomalous activity, and the SCP-8400 manifestation is quickly reported. Due to her rapport with SCP-8400 during its previous manifestation, Director Martlet6 is debriefed and prepares for transit to Area-37.7 Once its body has formed, SCP-8400 extends its upper right appendage to a sharpened blade, but slowly retracts its weapon as it wanders the ruins of the town. It comes across one of the few streetlights still upright and waves its fingers through its post, causing it to topple. A sound like the cry of a wounded animal can be heard, but the sound is choked as a thin sapling sprouts from the streetlight's broken base. After this, SCP-8400 displays no further interest in destructive behaviors. Some distance away at Site-12, a team of Foundation thaumaturges is gathered to create a Way8 to Daleport for Dir. Martlet. A robin lands on SCP-8400's horns. It holds out its finger, which the bird hops down to. They exchange words in a language lost to time, and the little bird flies away. As it continues to survey the ruins, SCP-8400 finds the remains of Town Hall, taking particular note of the phrase 'PANGLOSS GRANTS YOU SANCTUARY' scorched deep into the stonework above the entrance— the only wall of the structure still standing. A swathe of lit candles rest across the building's steps at SCP-8400's feet, each representing a soul. It kicks at the candles, only for its foot to pass through them. The candles remain undisturbed and intact. A Way opens a few meters north, appearing amidst a copse of trees that had grown out of the wreckage of a collapsed pharmacy. Martlet's left leg comes through first, then her head, followed in short order by the rest of her. She gestures to signal that she is clear, and the Way is snuffed out just as suddenly as it appeared. SCP-8400 visibly shudders at Martlet's approach, but does not turn around. MARTLET: "Hello again, old friend." SCP-8400: "The child of the sun with the sun in her eyes. I should cut you down where you stand." Martlet smiles and shrugs. MARTLET: "If you must. Not like there's anyone else here for you maim and kill. Work's already been done for you, I'm afraid." SCP-8400 casts its his gaze upward. Something small and sad hovers overhead. SCP-8400: "What happened here?" Martlet joins him at his side and follows his gaze, cupping a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. The body of a young girl hovers just a few meters above them, suspended by no visible means. Her dress is ragged from the elements, but her flesh is as fresh as the day she died, legs still swaying slightly in the summer breeze, face composed in restful slumber. MARTLET: "A fog came, and there was a battle. Well, a massacre, really. There's a lot we don't know." A silence passes between the two. MARTLET: "You killed a child last time we met. In that car you cut in half. Doubt you even noticed." SCP-8400: "Such is war." Martlet nods to the body above, which SCP-8400 has not yet looked away from. "So was this," she says. At that, SCP-8400 finally turns to her, his neck craning to match the difference in their height. It cracks and creaks and groans like old trees in the wind. SCP-8400: "You owe me my Name, child of the sun." MARTLET: "Maybe so." SCP-8400: "And will you give it freely?" Martlet's mouth flickers open, but she swallows the answer that threatens to come out. MARTLET: "I don't think it can work like that," she says instead. "You fail to surprise me," SCP-8400 says softly. Heaving a sigh, he descends the steps of Town Hall, motioning for Martlet to follow. "Come, then, and I will play you at chestnuts." Martlet nods, for she, too, has had already begun to get a sense for what was taking shape. The invocation of a structure is not easily undone, and its imposition over the two was quickly coming to be as firm and real as the ground beneath. And so they stood in the ruins of town square, the air thick with a haze that would never lift, the streets stained with blood that would never wash away. An enormous triangle was cut into the ground at the square, shards of brick cracked at such uncanny angles as to suggest the shape had been carved from beneath rather than above. Somewhere barely out of view, a corpse continued to bleed, just as it had been doing for many years prior, and as it would continue to do for many years to come. SCP-8400: "You seem different since last we met." MARTLET: "I have you to thank for that. I learned a lot about myself from our encounter. It was enriching." SCP-8400: "That was not my intention." MARTLET: "Well, I'm thankful regardless. It turns out I did have some skills that I wasn't fully utilizing. I have a feeling the same may still be true for you." SCP-8400: "Save your judgements for your game, child of the sun." No less than expected, Director Delaney Martlet had come prepared. She produced a chestnut from her coat pocket, shiny and round, and extended it to her companion. He shook his head. SCP-8400: "I think I should like to go first." MARTLET: "Very well. I'll hold on to this, then. Other than that, same rules?" It was agreed, and so they stood, backs together. Five paces, a swift turn to face to each other, an exchange of bows in that strange old bow, and the stage was set. SCP-8400: "You are either very brave to meet me again, or very foolish." MARTLET: "Why should that be surprising? I met you bravely before, didn't I?" SCP-8400: "You were courageous, yes, in a way one can only achieve when one is overcoming a great terror. But that terror is gone now, and it's taken your courage with it. I am unsure of what is now in its place." MARTLET: "Sounds like you regret asking to go first." SCP-8400: "No. I may have slept since I saw you last, but I walk in my dreams, and even in sleep I do not rest. I've come to realize that there is a deeper truth to you, child, just as there is a deeper truth to games, and to chestnuts. Just the same." Somewhere barely out of view, layers upon layers of hearty marigolds bloomed in the chest of a long-dead corpse, blocking the flow of blood and rendering the nature of fate slightly less certain. SCP-8400: "But there are some truths that may not be spoken in mixed company. We are not alone, after all." MARTLET: "I could have my colleagues stop monitoring us if that makes you more comfortable." SCP-8400: "It's not just your three letters I'm referring to. This place is… heavy with presence." Laughter. Very close by. The two could not hear it, but felt it all the same. SCP-8400: "The creatures here know it to be true." MARTLET: "Yes, I heard you spoke to a bird before I arrived. Can you speak to all animals?" SCP-8400: "I speak with things that are alike to me." He pointed to the freestanding wall nearby, at the words carved in flame between two marble pillars: 'PANGLOSS GRANTS YOU SANCTUARY'. SCP-8400: "I recognize that name. Not my kin, but known to us. What became of this sanctuary? Did any who lived here survive?" A line, drawn in words like a finger through sand. Not a barrier, but an arrow, pointing. MARTLET: "The records suggest that some escaped… elsewhere. Not outside the town, exactly, but outside the world itself. A few dozen of them found their way back. Most haven't been seen since." The smallest shiver, almost imperceptible, ran through the haze of the fallen town like a ripple in a pond. An atmosphere like a dream with something beneath it. MARTLET: "I like to think the others lived, though. That they're still out there, waiting for someone to tell them it's safe to come home." SCP-8400: "If they are safe where they are, they would be wise to remain there. The things that happened in this place will happen again. And again. And again. To you. To me." MARTLET: "Maybe. But if I'm there when that happens, I want to be like this Pangloss guy." SCP-8400: "There are very few left who mourn all losses and celebrate none. You're no more fit to compare yourself to him than I." The haze over the once-town had grown from a morning mist to the full ghost of a fog, and it stirred. The sun, if it still hung overhead, could only cast shadows over the world beneath. MARTLET: "Is that your chestnut? Is that a truth you're willing to stake your Name on?" Director Delaney Martlet took a deep breath and steadied herself as the shadows grew closer, shadows reminiscent of human beings in the same way a copse of trees might be reminiscent of a pharmacy. SCP-8400: "If your lost numbers came home as you claim to wish, but came home changed, bent by hardships into shapes you no longer recognized, you would not open your arms to welcome them. This is my chestnut: you wear a mask of piety, yet offer judgement and violence, same as I. On that, I stake my Name." Martlet cast her chestnut in the air. Shadows like parodies of hands reached up to grab it, but it passed through them one by one til it found its home in one of birch bark, safe and sound, and the shadows fell to wisps like steam from a kettle. MARTLET: "We should take our game somewhere else." "Do you fear the shadows?" But Martlet was already walking away when she said, over her shoulder, "I'm not overfond of what casts them." And though she could not see it from where she stood, something like a smile came over SCP-8400's face, if a piece of wood shaped like half a deer skull could be said to smile. Which it can't. The streets of Daleport had not laid straight for some time. They twisted to and fro at sharp angles, bent by a madness too great to be contained in the mind. But as the two companions walked the crooked streets, flecks of grassy green and flowery pastels began to cut through the crumbling asphalt in their wake, blending the old roads into the surrounding overgrowth, fading them like old scars. After a time, they came upon a building that had once been a library. While its walls appeared solid, they sagged, drooped, and folded like rolls of flesh, as if the structure had given up so completely that it couldn't even be bothered to fall down properly. "You said a battle was fought here," SCP-8400 said, inspecting the odd wreck in front of him. "What was the prize, then? Glory? Land? What's worth a town's weight in madness?" Delaney Martlet placed her hand at the doorway of the once-library. It trembled at her touch. "I can't speak for the reliability of the source," she said, "but it was written that the 'victor' of the conflict would 'walk from the rubbles of man and restore clarity to those who remain.' I'll let you decide how much that's worth." "And who then remained to claim that clarity, once the fog had lifted?" Hours later, in the air above, dark echoes of lives lost would perform a crude pantomime of human suffering. However, for the moment at least, the sky was clear. "No one," said Martlet. "Then it was worth nothing." Up the library steps, Delaney Martlet's fingers thrummed along the rotting wood of the doorway. The doorway thrummed back contentedly. There was a slight glint in Martlet's sunny eyes, the kind that one might explain as a trick of the light. "And your rampages, are they worth any more?" she asked. "Let's hear your vision. Do you intend to wipe the slate clean, start the world afresh like the good men of Daleport tried to do?" "I seek only to even the scales." Martlet looked at him, and did so in such a way that one would be forgiven for thinking they were the exact same height. "If you knew the exact number of those you lost, and you answered that number once, twice, even three times over, you would not lay down arms. I return your chestnut with my own: your justice is a mask for blind hatred." This must have come as some surprise to SCP-8400, as it took him a moment to cast the chestnut in kind, and indeed, he had quite forgotten he was even carrying it. But cast it he did, not from the regulation five paces, but a matter of feet. Martlet caught it handily and tucked it into her coat pocket, not bothering to check it for blemishes. The other raised no objection. "My hatred is earned," he said instead. The other raised no objection. A bell tolled somewhere nearby. "Do you think yourself powerful, child of the sun?" SCP-8400 continued. "You may have bettered yourself since we last met, yet you continue to wear your three little letters like a yoke around your neck." "I'm given a surprising amount of leeway these days. There are some in the Foundation, people like me, who are trying to change things. The Overseers—" "Your hierarchies are trivial to me. I speak of Names. You think you've found your purpose, but you are only telling yourself another one of your little stories. You believe your pursuits to be pure, but you make them in the shadow of the Name of blood, of freedom's death." Martlet's grip on the doorframe tightened. She felt a pulse quicken, and she wasn't sure it was hers. "Do you know why we call you 'logomorphs'?" she asked. "It's because your very existence is bound to words, to patterns, to rules. Human beings aren't like that. Words and names only have as much meaning as we give them." SCP-8400 pressed his fingers softly to the library's facade, carving five long thin streaks along its surface as he walked. They bled, but SCP-8400 did not see. He would only look at Martlet. "You think yourself unbeholden to words, to patterns, to rules?" he asked. "Truly? Child of the sun, you tell yourself such stories! Your three letters are no more than the sum of these things. My kind, when we are named, we determine its meaning for ourselves. You choose to bear the name Foundation, and in doing so, your meaning is determined for you. My chestnut is this: you are a prisoner, and you are content as such." This time it was Martlet's turn to hesitate, but she cast the chestnut nevertheless. SCP-8400 caught it, fingers still slick with library blood. Scraping the chestnut clean against his chest, he found it perfectly uncracked. "Interesting," Martlet whispered, but there was a dimness in her tone that rang foreign. She walked away, and SCP-8400 followed. Somewhere behind them, the quivering of a child began to calm as petals bloomed to seal her wounds. The church in Daleport, tall and proud at the heart of the town, was the only building for miles that appeared largely intact. Its stained glass still sat peacefully in frame, its shingles clung dutifully to the vaulted roof, and even the hedges along its body seemed naturally inclined to remain in well-kept lines. Much effort had gone toward the study of the church over the years, but the fact of the matter remains that no matter how many ages pass, no matter how many civilizations rise and fall, the church in Daleport will continue to stand tall and proud at the heart of town, and not a soul will ever coax out enough of its secrets to even say so much as what god it was built to. Delaney Martlet walked the edge of the church's shadow, but no further. "You take long turns, child of the sun. Do you mean to waste what little time I have before I must sleep?" Martlet breathed deep, and spoke, and as she did, walked a broad circle around her companion, never taking her sunny eyes off him for a moment. "Logomorphs. You wear your hearts on sleeve, so to speak. 'Form follows function according to the function of the form.' The curtains are never just blue. The shape you take is either the naked truth or a wholesale deception, and you don't strike me as the scheming type. So let's take you apart." SCP-8400 spoke not a word and moved not an inch. "You're tall," Martlet went on. "Well-built. But your form isn't purely musculature. It's armor. Defensive, but ready for battle. Now what about your head? Deer. Symbol of innocence. Skull, safe to say, innocence lost. No lower jaw— that type of wound isn't self-inflicted. It's rot. Loss, or disuse, maybe. You weren't chatty before we met." She stopped, heels together, toes apart. Like a dancer. "But it's your antlers that give you away. Those white bits that move all over the place aren't knots. They're eyes. We've suspected that for a while, but I never stopped to think about what it meant. All those eyes, constantly moving, never focusing on one thing. Drifting along all those branches, never settling. I know that feeling well. You think yourself a knight errant, but the truth is you're more errant than knight. I return your chestnut: you are lost, and you are content as such." Thus the chestnut was cast. However, at that very moment, the old bell tower atop the older church rang out like a great beast moaning in its sleep. Martlet faltered only for an instant, but an instant was all it took for the chestnut to slip between her fingers. It landed on the cobbles with a gentle but pointed rattle, skittered a bit, and finally came to rest in the shadow of the great church. Martlet ran to it, held it to her eyes, inspected every angle. She found it unbroken. "You fear me made whole?" SCP-8400 asked. Martlet had not noticed how close he had gotten. He was behind her, separated by no more than two or three inches of thin air. She spun around, but could not find the words she reached for. "You had no such fear when the day began, child of the sun. Perhaps you fear something else. Perhaps you wish our game to never end." SCP-8400 took Martlet's wrist in his hand, not aggressively, not tenderly, but with a conjurer's flourish. With his other, he cupped his palm over hers, one small chestnut nestled between. "Perhaps, then, this is the only victory I may steal. This is my chestnut." He leaned in close til the rough bark of his bony snout grazed Martlet's ear. Three short words were all he whispered, and as he did, the church at the heart of Daleport loomed tall and proud above them, casting a shadow that would hold safe the secrets spoken beneath it. The chestnut slid from Martlet's fingers. SCP-8400 held it between them, cupped in his hand with all the gentility one might use to cradle a tiny bird. It split cleanly in two before their eyes. "This isn't right," said Martlet. "That was the truth." She received no response to this except that strange wooden laugh as SCP-8400 fell to his knees. His hands searched the earth for support as weakness overcame him, calling forward bursts of new life wherever his touch wandered. "Bring better stories to tell me when next we play," were his parting words as his body came undone. Yet for minutes afterward, grass and moss and flowers of all sorts continued to sprout and flourish, forming a perfect outline of the place where he fell. End of log. And then, finally, the third encounter: Chapter 3 In which an invitation is extended and a transformation occurs. ometimes names are the the most important thing in the world. Names have the power to grant a life of ease, to invoke greater powers, even to bring the dead back to life— if only for an instant. And yet sometimes a name doesn't matter at all. There are many occasions in which it's infinitely less important to Be Called than it is to simply Be. So let us dispense with the formalities and ignore the name of the town where our final chapter took place. It happened in the town where you live, in a quiet spot that you pass nearly every day but never really look at. The first rays of sunlight crept up the bark of the Old Birch Tree, stirring something within. Knotted circles along the trunk blinked open into tired eyes, still half-veiled by sleep. They watched in bleary recognition as birds soared through the rolling clouds and as insects shuffled through dewy springtime grass. In that moment, for only that moment, this was not a world where old blood soaked the earth from crust to core. And then the moment passed, and SCP-8400 remembered. Rage overcame slumber. A wooded hand burst from the tree like a strike, like a scream. Then another. He pulled and he clawed and he wrestled himself from his birthing place, sucking in his first breath in moons with a grateful wheeze. That’s when he noticed the scientist. She sat on a fallen log not far away, whittling the end of a stick into the shape of a strange, footless bird. “Good morning,” she said, setting aside her handiwork. “And what a fine morning it is! If you only get to live one day every half-decade, you probably couldn’t have picked a better one than this.” Much to her companion's chagrin, she was correct. He would not concede it aloud, of course, but in his heart he knew the world was made for mornings such as these. “You’ve come for one last game,” he said instead. The scientist shook her head. She kept her hair looser these days, it seemed, and her locks bounced with every gentle shake. She dressed brighter, too, but her face had not changed. It was exactly, curiously, the same. The sun shone brightly in her eyes, and she did not shield them. “We’ll get to that,” she said. “First, I’d like you to come with me. Let me show you where I came from.” “You ask the impossible. I cannot stray far from the woods, and there can be no forests where your kind dwell. Living things wither in mere anticipation of your wake.” “Our woods may not be up to your standards, but the ghost of a forest is a forest in itself. Allow me to guide you, and if you feel yourself leaving your element, I won't ask you to go any further.” And so they began to walk, right beside the road, and that’s when SCP-8400 began to notice the true extent of how special that day might be. First there was the way the golden morning sun never seemed to move or dim as the hours progressed, always hanging just over the horizon, cutting clear dusty beams through the treetops to create a landscape of strange, shifting patterns on the ground, like shadows dancing in a shallow lakebed. Then there was the birdsong: a bit too constant and harmonious to seem purely accidental, and each note echoed in the air long after its singer had fled the sky. And strangest of all, SCP-8400 and Martlet seemed to move through the world completely unnoticed. Not a single driver or passerby slowed or turned a head to them as they walked. “Might I assume this bewitchment is your doing?” “I’ve been bleeding my dreams a bit,” Martlet confessed with a modest shrug. “Yours too. I apologize for the imposition, but there was no other way to make this possible.” "I don't dream anymore." "Sometimes we surprise ourselves." On and on they journeyed, time and distance slipping away like a stray thought, step blurring into step, all the world a soup of trees and roads and day's first light. A feeling of familiarity nagged at the back of SCP-8400's mind, an itch in the shape of a memory of a place he had never been or seen. It hurt him to think about it, so he didn't. At last they came upon a large metal gate fixed to an immense wall, which in turn encircled an even more immense conglomeration of grey rectangles. A prison to end all prisons. An injury on the world. An affront. Martlet motioned for SCP-8400 to stay put, and approached the heavily reinforced booth built into the wall beside the gate, and as she did this, something very odd began to happen. "In for a penny," said Martlet. A small man, head too large for his body and nose too large for his head, peered out from beneath the old stone bridge. "In for a pound," the small man returned, his voice low and hoarse. A thunderous crack shook over the treeline. The bramble of thorns before them began to unravel and fall away, not withering or dying, but moving like the tentacles of some unearthly leviathan— and they very well may have been— as they retreated and vanished into the same vast darkness beneath the bridge where the small man had already returned. "Come along," said Martlet. So along SCP-8400 came, mounting the steps of the grand bridge with greater trepidation than he had felt in an eternal age. Stone beasts, skeletal and unrecognized, were carved into either side of the bridge's forward approach, and their necks creaked and craned to watch over the two as they passed. "You bleed your dreams too deeply, I think," said SCP-8400. "To be clear, everything you see is completely real," Martlet assured him, gesturing at the landscape. "More real than the alternative, in most ways." SCP-8400 moved to the bridge-edge and peered over the side. An inky blackness flowed beneath, painting a broad line as far as the eye could see at either side: a dark river at first glance; something like a void, if a void could be said to pulse and undulate. Then, all at once, SCP-8400 realized he was looking at an enormous quantity of black, wet hair that flowed and squelched like a hateful parody of a babbling brook. He pondered this and moved on. The bridge came to an end just yards from the treeline of a tall and densely-set forest. The road ahead wound beneath a canopy of trees whose branches reached up to entwine and steeple with one another, giving an impression more akin to the mouth of a cave or an abandoned temple than a collection of living things. Still, Martlet walked ever forward, and SCP-8400 followed resolutely, even as the morning light faded far behind them. A fat little squirrel watched from its perch above, the blinking red crest on its forehead a mark of its vigilance. Yet no matter how much it cocked its head or adjusted its lens, the tiny creature simply could not detect The Two Somethings in The Nothing-Space before it, and its tiny motors whirred in confusion. "What manner of creature is that?" asked SCP-8400. "CCTV, most likely." As the words left Martlet's mouth, the fat little squirrel scurried from its perch and bounded down the hallway-road, its greedy cheeks stuffed with a bounty of acorns. "Don't think about it too much," she added. "Really. Don't. The metaphor may break down if you examine it too closely, and I don't know what will happen to us if we're inside it when that happens." The forest path was dim and dense. Occasionally there would be a break in the closely-set trees alongside them, through which could be seen any number of woodland creatures running around in people-clothes, conducting people-business. They spoke to one another in people-tongues, and paid the two no mind. "They're not like us," Martlet said. "Some of them know. I've been fortunate so far, but it won't be a secret for much longer." "Do you trust them?" "I love them." "Those are very different things." "I know." When the endless path ended, it deposited them in a circular clearing, at the center of which appeared to be a large hole in the ground. As they approached, it became clear that an elaborate spiral staircase was constructed along the perimeter of the pit. Moss and weeds overran the stone, creeping out through veinlike cracks. "Would you like to go first?" Dr. Martlet asked, gesturing ahead. He gave a slight nod before continuing on. And so they descended, they walked and walked and walked, down to where trust withers, where the sun fears to shine, then deeper down still, unto the darkest depths, until eventually the staircase came to an end. Before them stretched a long hallway, dimly lit by small motes of light hovering overhead that flickered and shivered as if stirring in restless sleep. SCP-8400 stopped a moment, glancing up at the lights in faint recognition, but saying nothing. Dr. Martlet simply moved ahead, stride unbroken, taking the lead. "Come," she said, a hint of urgency betraying her otherwise even voice. "We're in the final stretch." SCP-8400 did not move. "Your ghost of a forest is repugnant," he said. "It mocks that which I came from." Martlet stopped, turning around. "We can return, if that is what you wish. I am, after all, as equally bound to the rules of Hospitality as you are." "No. I will see this through." With a nod and smile, Martlet turned once more, continuing down the path. SCP-8400 followed. The hallway curved left and right like a serpent, walls growing farther apart as they went until the lights above no longer reached them, leaving a dark expanse at either side that seemed to go on forever— and very well may have. Shapes emerged dimly in the distance, squat and square. Cribs. Wood, every one, all unpainted and unembellished but far from uniform. Each edge of each piece was roughly, uniquely hewn, not a single line falling entirely straight, adding up to the impression of them certainly having been made by hand, if not grown from the earth outright. Each was set on its own curved base as if meant to be rocked, but nonetheless stood dead still. And finally, at the front of each cradle was affixed a wooden plaque. And here SCP-8400's defenses finally wavered, the ground almost rushing to him, for upon each wooden plaque was embossed a word— not in any particular language, nor even in letters, but in meanings. The essence of things, reserved. Upon each wooden plaque was embossed a name. He ran to them. FLOWERS GOLD HEART CASTLE GEARS CHATTER QUAIL CLEF SALLOW ICEBERG CROW There they stood, countless cribs arranged in neat columns and rows like well-kept gravestones, seeming to span forever, or as far as the eye could see. Whichever came first. There were so many. Some he recognized. And yet, all empty. He ran from one cradle to the next in a frenzy, but all were bare to the last. Marked by signs, yes, but devoid of that which was signified. SCP-8400 dug his fingers into the earth and let out a long, low reverberation, more akin to the thunderous felling of an old tree than anything resembling a voice. His form shifted, untethering to a buzzing mound of sharpness and sound and splinters and teeth, but the rage was less than his need to know— for that, as we have learned, is his true nature— and so the storm passed. He moved forward, but still allowed the occasional moment to linger and barely brush his fingertips along a crib's edge, trails of rapidly blossoming daisies tracing every caress. An hour, or a day, or a forever afterward, it ended. No more cribs, no more light, only darkness. And yet, amidst the only-darkness, a few paces away in the center of the room, a massive birch tree was visible, unlit from any source and half-shrouded in contradiction, but clear as day all the same. At the base of the tree was a wooden cellar door, shut tight in layers of chains topped by a single, formidable lock. The only sounds to be heard were that of footsteps— their own, presumably— and the distant rush of flowing water. Delaney Martlet approached the tree, placing her hand on it gently. She stroked it, tender but respectful, then turned to SCP-8400. He watched her closely, every wooden joint tensed in anticipation, like a lion ready to pounce should its prey bolt for safety. Moving with the decisiveness of someone keenly aware of her every action— though less out of caution than ceremony— Martlet crouched down to the cellar door at her feet, took the cold steel lock in one hand, and produced a humble key from her pocket with the other. A quiet click! followed, and in a single instant the lock crumbled to a fine ash. There wasn't the slightest breeze, yet the ash blew away all the same, leaving nothing but the outline of a memory. "Now then," Martlet said finally, breaking the silence like a spell. "End of the line." "Open it," SCP-8400 commanded. She nodded. The old wooden door gave way with a heavy groan and a burst of dust, revealing a shallow compartment occupied only by a hardwood steamer trunk. It was old, but not ancient; richly ornamented, but stained thick in dirt and mold and tarnish. "What lies within?" he asked, stepping forward. "Open it," Martlet echoed in return, now standing straight. SCP-8400 hesitated. He took a knee and reached towards the trunk, carefully taking the lid beneath his thumb. Slowly, he pried it open. The trunk was full of heads. Infant heads, pale, still, and calm, as if frozen in an enchanted slumber. "Dead?" SCP-8400 asked, trembling. Martlet took his hand. "Diminished, I think." Bent and quivering, SCP-8400 raised a hand to the trunk, but pulled it away, every eye along his antlers screwing up tight. "I don't recognize which one is my own," he whispered, barely above a breath. When at last he opened his eyes, Martlet was smiling at him, the same sad smile she'd worn for much of their journey: cryptic and knowing, but absent of condescension. The smile of a friend? Not quite. A kindred smile. A smile like a mirror. And, raised beside that smile between two fingers of her right hand, was a chestnut, looking for all the world like an artifact of a long-forgotten lifetime, and SCP-8400 remembered the terms of their agreement. "The final game," said one. "The final game," said the other. An exchange of nods. For the first moment in what felt like eons, the mechanisms of time began to creak back into motion. A flicker of walls flashed all around, a flicker of locks and machines and so much steel— but only a flicker, and when it passed, once again all that remained was the tree, the trunk, and the dark, and the two. Martlet passed on the chestnut, claiming the first turn. Back against back. Five long strides in either direction. A turn of the heels and a locking of eyes, unequal in number as they might have been. SCP-8400 bowed to Delaney Martlet, and Delaney Martlet bowed to SCP-8400, and this time, they meant it. "It's almost nostalgic at this point, isn't it?" asked Martlet, her golden eyes catching the sunlight in a place where sunlight would never reach. "You certainly seem to have learned much in the time that has passed." "It's funny you say that. Before our last meeting, I had thought perhaps we were both meant to teach each other something. And we have. But more than that, I had it in my mind that we were both equally wrong, I suppose. That somehow I'd come out of our little game a better person and it would cost me absolutely nothing. And eventually, painfully, I realized that was impossible." SCP-8400 nods, his eyes involuntarily drawn to the chest of heads beside them. "Such is the nature of sacrifice." "We— I mean, the Foundation likes to act as though we're fighting a losing battle, as if the tide of chaos will wash us away if we let up for even a moment. But that's not true. The truth is we're winning, and we've been winning for a long time. We fight. We suffer losses. But we're winning. We have control. I thought I wanted peace. I wanted to fix you, to stop you being a monster, while I happily remained a part of the thing that made you that way." "And now?" "I'm not even sure what monsters are anymore. But I know that peace can't exist on my terms alone. And I know that whatever you are, it is more than just the sum of what you lack. This is my chestnut: you were born from the formless, injured remains of the thing a Name was taken from. But now, you are something new." The chestnut was cast. The chestnut was caught. "You have shown me much on this journey," said SCP-8400, "and I have wrestled with what I've seen. These visions, these bleeding dreams, both true and untrue— they confound and discomfort me. And yet, I believe I have begun to ken the nature of what you've revealed. I confess, when I spoke to you last, I could not have anticipated the extent of this." "I owe you a lot. After I realized I wasn't fully human, the pieces started to fit into place." "And a great many pieces there are. So let us speak the truth of you, 'child of the sun', and speak it plainly in the cover of darkness. I return your chestnut: you were molded from the formless, injured remains of a taken Name. But now, you are something new. " The chestnut was cast. The chestnut was caught. Far away, a cradle rocked in the breeze. "So many stories," Martlet said with a sigh. "We tell tales of your kind stealing our children away and raising them as your own. 'Every accusation is a confession,' as the saying goes. It's hard to articulate how perverse it all is. Not only did we take your names, we raised the few that weren't slain to help lock away the vengeful echoes created by their absence." "You still speak of as if you are one of them." "I am. In every way that matters, I've been one of them. Lived with them. Worked for them. Loved them. Devoured their stories and made them my own." Site-24 Director Delaney Martlet stood in the darkness, and against the darkness she cast a shadow. It had the shape of a bird in flight, one that would never, ever land. "But I've never really belonged. How could I, living under false pretenses? It's high time I came home. And that is my chestnut: now that we have found each other, we may finally become one again." The chestnut was cast. It broke to pieces in the air. The martlet rushed to the pieces before they even had time to strike the ground. She crawled in a panic wherever they scattered, gathering them in her hands, her pockets, her beak. Try as she might— and any could see that she really, truly tried— the pieces would not fit together. The other half of her soul came forward, gardens beyond imagination blooming behind every footfall. He held her as she wept. The final game was won. "Oh!" Martlet exclaimed, drying her eyes. "Right. Terms of Hospitality. You've earned your name." "I know where my name is," the other said softly. "No, that's not enough." She rose to her feet and returned to the old steamer trunk where the dormant Names lay sound asleep. "Take one," she instructed. "But their other halves—" "They have none. Not anymore. They're orphans now. That's why they sleep." SCP-8400 approached trunk slowly, his multitude of eyes scanning over the innocent faces inside. He took his time. A choice was made. He turned it over in his hand, observing all its features as the infant's head cooed in its slumber. Finally, he leaned forward and took a bite. When he pulled it away, only apple flesh could be seen beneath the broken skin. A honeyed liquid oozed from the head, staining the nameless creature's mouth and hand as he tore into it with the voracity of a man starved. It was only a matter of seconds before all that remained were the stains of juice on his fingers. Beithe. The hunger of an entire existence finally sated, Beithe reclined himself against the lone birch tree. He held a hand above his face as if to block out the sun, though there was no sun in that place. It was the hand itself he marveled at, taking in the soft contours of his fingers the way one might admire the early morning sky. "Not at all ill-fitting," said Beithe. "It tastes correct against my tongue." Indeed, that was another thing he now possessed. "Glad to hear it, Beithe," said Martlet, perching at his shoulder. And they rested there together, the two once-half-selves, and considered the new things they found themselves to be. They lingered there for a good while. Not as long as the two might have preferred, but they knew the way home would be much longer still. "What will you do now?" asked Beithe. Martlet smiled and shrugged. "I'm still the Director. And I'm still a leader. Maybe it's time for our branch to break off. Let something new take root." "I see. What sort of thing would this new thing be?" The martlet set her chin on her wing thoughtfully. "There are myths, you know. The Foundation is bursting with myths— that's just what you call a secret you're not supposed to know, really. I've heard stories of a world where none of this happened. Where everyone made the right choices, and we live hand-in-hand and side-by-side." "But those things did happen here. This is not that world. And it cannot be." "No, it can't. But perhaps we can still learn from it." A moment of quiet, and then Martlet rose. "We are small," she admitted, "but we will survive. Those who choose to go on bearing the name 'Foundation' can suffer under its weight by their own will." Beithe rose to join her. His joints did not creak. His eyes were set and focused. "And what will you call yourself instead?" he asked. "Maybe one day, a very long time from now, we'll earn a name worth aspiring to. Until then? Well. There are worse things than being nameless." The knight cracked his knuckles, savoring the sensation of his bones and the marrow within them. "You will be opposed," he told her, a smile concealed beneath his words. "Then it's fortunate I won't face them alone." And they walked together, hand-in-hand, out of the endless darkness and into something far less knowable. ❖❖❖ ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8400" by Uncle Nicolini and PeppersGhost, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8400. 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: knight.jpg Name: Knight Author: PeppersGhost and their sister License: CC BY SA 3.0 Source Link: Filename: KenmareWide.jpg Name: Stone Circle at Kenmare Author: David Stanley License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: s.png Name: Nonsense Songs, Stories, Botany, and Alphabets - initial S Author: Edward Lear License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by PeppersGhost Filename: theend.png Name: Imitationofchrist-end Author: J. Finch License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by PeppersGhost Footnotes 1. Specifically Betula pubescens, commonly referred to as the white birch. 2. An important exception to this property is the gravitational force of SCP-8400's own weight against the ground it rests on. If this exception did not exist, SCP-8400 would theoretically fall through the Earth itself until it reached the planet's gravitational center. 3. It is unknown if SCP-8400 purposefully selects which tree it manifests from, or if the selection is random or otherwise outside SCP-8400's control. 4. Regional rapid-response team not assigned to containment of any one SCP. 5. Dr. Martlet was later reprimanded for breaching protocol by lying to a logomorphic entity. 6. Dr. Delaney Martlet was appointed Director of Site-24 in the intervening years since SCP-8400's previous manifestation. 7. Outpost dedicated to observation of SCP-1936 and the study of the Battle of Daleport. 8. Extraspacial passage used to quickly traverse long distances. |
SCP-8400 | uncontained | A battle of wits between a folklorist and the folklore she studies. + 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; } PeppersGhost and Uncle Nicolini SCP-8400 - The Birch Knight and the Game of Three Chestnuts by Uncle Nicolini and PeppersGhost More by Uncle Nicolini More by PeppersGhost . . . This document has been flagged for possible sentience. Revisions prohibited. Proceed with caution. . . . Item#: 8400 Level3 Secondary Class: esoteric Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: critical link to memo Photograph of SCP-8400 captured by remote camera. Photograph of SCP-8400 captured by remote camera. Special Containment Procedures No new names or designations are to be used in reference to SCP-8400. All names and designations currently and previously applied to SCP-8400 are considered lost. Physical barriers are ineffective against SCP-8400, as are traditional firearms and other ballistic weaponry. SCP-8400 is not susceptible to damage by heat, but displays an emotional aversion to fire and may be corralled via the use of flamethrowers until its manifestation ends. Once an SCP-8400 manifestation is confirmed, the area is to be immediately evacuated. Standard misinformation protocols are in place to account for loss of life and property damage caused by SCP-8400. The current whereabouts of SCP-8400 and whether it will continue to manifest are currently unknown. A provisional containment chamber, designed to produce consistent flame along the surface of its walls and ceiling, has been constructed at Site-19 to house SCP-8400 should it ever be successfully captured. A measure to neutralize SCP-8400 via the deliberate extinction of Betula pubescens has been considered and rejected by the O2 Congress. Description SCP-8400 is an abstract logomorphic entity which interfaces with baseline reality via avatars composed from scraps of birch1 bark arranged into a humanoid shape. These avatars consistently possess heads resembling the skull of a male deer, sans lower jaw, with a dense cluster of branchlike antlers. Soft tissue organs resembling lidded eyes constantly shift across the surface of these antlers, moving in no discernible pattern. Vessels under SCP-8400's control take on an extraphysical and/or demiconceptual level of solidity that necessarily supersedes the environment around it; consequently, when a part of SCP-8400's body applies any amount of physical pressure against an object of baseline-reality solidity, the object's mass will warp, collapse, or otherwise be displaced as necessary to accommodate SCP-8400's movement.2 Matter displaced by interaction with SCP-8400 will behave in a manner similar to semi-solids or high-viscosity fluids, irrespective of the affected substance's actual density or material composition, and without causing any actual change to its state of matter. Displacement of mass is not reversed after contact with SCP-8400 has ceased, nor is any damage that the object would naturally incur from an abrupt alteration of its structure. SCP-8400 manifests once every five years by converting mass from a Betula pubescens tree into a new bodily vessel.3 Once formed, SCP-8400 will seek out populated areas and attempt to destroy any person or structure it encounters through the displacement of matter. This assault will continue until the sun has fully set, at which time SCP-8400's vessel will break down into non-anomalous tree bark. Local flora will often grow at a greatly accelerated rate in the vicinity of SCP-8400; this effect appears to be incidental rather than deliberate. SCP-8400 bears an ancillary nomenclative abnormality which causes a gradual physio-conceptual degradation of any name or designation applied to it, culminating in the name or designation being completely and irretrievably removed from all physical and conceptual planes. Names and designations lost to SCP-8400 will disappear from written records and recordings, and may lead to aberrant behavior of the medium through which the name or designation was expressed, including (but not limited to) data files, printed documents, and speech organs/orifices. SCP-8400 has ignored all attempts at communication from civilians and Foundation personnel, with the sole exception Dr. Delaney Martlet. Encounters with Dr. Martlet The Kenmare Stone Circle, site of SCP-8400's manifestation shortly before its encounter with Dr. Martlet. The Kenmare Stone Circle, site of SCP-8400's manifestation shortly before its encounter with Dr. Martlet. Initial Encounter INCIDENT LOG 1/3 Transcript assembled from security footage and eyewitness accounts. [ FOREWORD: Dr. Delaney Martlet, a folklorist under the employ of the Foundation, had unplanned contact with SCP-8400 when it manifested near Kenmare, Ireland in late September. Their subsequent interaction was the first recorded instance of SCP-8400 engaging in conversation, and resulted in an early end to manifestation. ] [ BEGIN LOG ] [ A small extrusion appears on a birch tree growing at a park located in Kenmare, Ireland. Individual fingers emerge from the extrusion to form a hand, which further extends into a full arm over the course of a minute. Present civilians begin to gather as SCP-8400 forms. ] [ The speed of the SCP-8400 manifestation increases as it progresses, and it steps from the tree fully formed in less than five minutes. It briefly cranes its neck side to side before raising its left arm. Branches rapidly extend from the limb, piercing through the chest cavities of 5 nearby civilians. The remaining civilians begin to panic and flee as the branches retract, allowing the corpses of the impaled civilians to drop to the ground. ] [ SCP-8400 walks out of the park at a steady pace, following the civilians as they attempt to flee. SCP-8400 stops at the entrance of the park, which is decorated with an ornate metal gate. It then proceeds to touch the gate, causing the latter to physically distort and become structurally unstable. Vines with blossoming flowers are observed to grow over the gate as it falls to pieces. SCP-8400 carries forward. ] [ MTF Chi-12214 is alerted to the SCP-8400 manifestation. Before they can be deployed, Dr. Martlet informs Command that she is already in Kenmare and requests that Chi-1221 stand down. ] [ As SCP-8400 approaches a road, a vehicle swerves to avoid it, but is unable to do so and impacts against SCP-8400. The vehicle immediately warps and splits in two as vines manifest throughout. SCP-8400 is entirely unfazed by the impact, and continues walking as the remains of the vehicle ignite behind it. ] [ SCP-8400 continues towards a nearby two-story coffee shop. Multiple civilians are present within, attempting to hide from SCP-8400. The entity moves through the brick and cement which constitute the building as if it were liquid, causing flowering vines to appear along the walls before they fall apart. As the walls continue to crumble, the second storey of the building caves and falls onto the civilians on the first storey. SCP-8400 continues ahead, causing the collapse of two additional buildings. ] [ Local police and Regional Support Unit officers arrive at the scene and attempt to use their vehicles to halt SCP-8400's advance. They verbally warn SCP-8400 to cease movement under threat of gunfire. SCP-8400 does not respond and proceeds to approach the vehicle barricade. Marksmen open fire on SCP-8400, who remains unfazed and continues towards the barricade. It walks through the vehicles as multiple sharp branches extend from its torso to impale members of law enforcement. SCP-8400 retracts its branches, allowing the corpses to fall before continuing. ] [ Dr. Martlet approaches SCP-8400. The entity stops its movement. Dr. Martlet assumes a bowed stance, eyes toward the ground, arms extended at either side, and her left foot crossed over her right. She holds this position as SCP-8400 approaches her. ] SCP-8400: You mock the old customs. [ Dr. Martlet does not move. ] MARTLET: My intent was not to provoke. [ SCP-8400 halts less than a yard from Dr. Martlet. She remains still. ] SCP-8400: Who instructed you to bow in this way? [ SCP-8400 raises its right hand, which elongates to a sharpened point. ] SCP-8400: By my word, you will tell me who betrayed our secrets, and then you will die. MARTLET: The old ways are neither dead nor forgotten. You once shared your customs freely with our forefathers, and their stories are still heard by those who wish to listen. [ Dr. Martlet straightens. ] MARTLET: Now then. As there has been no betrayal, I cannot say who has betrayed you. Therefore, by your word, I will not die. Is this correct? SCP-8400: You twist my words to shackles! [ SCP-8400 rests its arm at its side, reverting to its regular shape. It produces a sound similar to bark scraping bark, approximated to be a laugh. ] SCP-8400: Perhaps, then, you truly do know the old ways. Very well. What business have you with me, child of the sun? MARTLET: I only wish to challenge you to a game. [ Dr. Martlet draws three chestnuts from her coat pocket and fans them out between her fingers. ] SCP-8400: You would stand in my way only to play at Chestnuts? [ It scoffs. ] Save your persiflage and leave me to my work. MARTLET: I know where your name is.5 [ As soon as Dr. Martlet has said this, a series of sharp prongs burst from SCP-8400's torso, snapping together at straight angles to surround Martlet in a cage-like lattice. She does not move. A number of wild animals cry out at once some distance away. ] MARTLET: We will play a game of Chestnuts. If you lose, you will sleep. If you win, you will have your name. As long as the game is in play, we are both bound by the rules of Hospitality. How do you answer? [ Time passes in silence. Finally, SCP-8400 withdraws the cage of branches back into its chest cavity. Flowers crack through the pavement below to line the space between the two. ] SCP-8400: It has been spoken, so it shall be. By what will we determine our Chestnuts, then? By riddles and word games? By the wisdom of the world and its workings? MARTLET: By truths of each other. If the chestnut cracks, it's not the truth. I'll even go first. Fair? [ SCP-8400 nods, and Martlet hands it a chestnut from her pocket. Curiously, the object does not seem to distort in SCP-8400's grasp. The two align themselves back-to-back, march five paces in either direction, and then turn to face each other gain. They both bow in the same manner Dr. Martlet had previously, and when they rise, Martlet crosses her arms. ] MARTLET: During your crusade this morning, you did not hesitate to shed blood. You fashion yourself as a ruthless warrior, yet I stand here unharmed, all because you hesitated in the face of something you did not understand. SCP-8400: It would be unwise to question my courage. MARTLET: Far be it. I merely sense a spirit of curiosity beneath the bloodlust. Thus, here is my chestnut: it is not in your nature to kill. [ SCP-8400 casts the chestnut into the air, and Dr. Martlet catches it before it hits the ground. ] SCP-8400: You are bold, child of the sun. And how particular that title sits with you. There's something of the sun itself in your very eyes, and I do not merely mean their color. Where all others have approached me bearing arms, you come with only words. Indeed, much time has passed since I last awakened without being met by the flames of your armies. Where are those armies now, I wonder? [ Dr. Martlet smiles and shrugs. ] SCP-8400: Indeed. You are no mere jailer, and no mere scholar either. I return your chestnut with mine: it is in your nature to lead. [ Dr. Martlet casts the chestnut into the air, and SCP-8400 grabs it at it passes its head. ] MARTLET: Interesting. I hadn't even known that about myself. Hardly the mindless brute some would paint you as, are you? Perhaps you'd enjoy a story. [ SCP-8400 says nothing. ] MARTLET: I'll make it quick, then. There was an anomaly a while back that I was called in to examine. A logomorph such as yourself, I believe. It was covered by an enormous hand-knit afghan, the largest I imagine there's ever been. Big enough to cover a house, and sometimes it needed to be. You couldn't look underneath the afghan— not without going quite mad, at least— but you could make out the creature's shape from how the fabric draped over its body, and the shape that it cast was constantly changing. Big as a moose one moment, small as a mouse the next. Sometimes it had many legs, sometimes none. Even its voice would change from the start of a sentence to the end. And it only ever said one thing. SCP-8400: What did it say? MARTLET: "Please, tell me what I am." SCP-8400: A truly piteous fate. One too common for my kind. MARTLET: My point exactly. Most logomorphs can't exist in a single coherent state when robbed of a conceptual identity, but somehow that's not the case for you. You can hold a form, even if only for a day at a time. Such is my second chestnut: you do not possess a name, but you define yourself by your rage. [ SCP-8400 casts the chestnut into the air. Dr. Martlet steps forward to catch it and falters slightly, but does not stumble. ] SCP-8400: You're no stranger to stories, I can tell. Not just by how you speak, but how you smell. You reek of stories. You play their shapes against your teeth, and taste their passions against your tongue, and you devour them, because you are starved of shape and passion. MARTLET: I would say stories are my passion. [ SCP-8400 makes a noise like scraping bark, possibly analogous to laughter. ] SCP-8400: Hunger is not passion. You do not love stories any more than one dying of thirst loves a drink of water. Every action you take is determined either by appetite, or by those three cursed letters you've tethered your soul to. You perform functions, but bear no purpose. I return your chestnut with mine: you possess a name, but you do not define yourself. [ Dr. Martlet casts the chestnut into the air. SCP-8400 catches it easily, and rolls it between its fingers as it speaks. ] SCP-8400: Are you enjoying your game, child of the sun? MARTLET: It's— well, it's been enlightening so far, I suppose. SCP-8400: Speak decisively or not at all. MARTLET: I am enjoying the game. And you? SCP-8400: You are fortunate I am bound by Hospitality. MARTLET: Come, now. If you weren't enjoying this at least a little, you wouldn't be half so smug. As far as our records indicate, I'm the first person you've ever spoken to. That must be worth something. SCP-8400: I wouldn't stake your chestnut on that. Nor on your records. You claim to know me and my kin, but you place your faith in those who would sooner allow the world to burn than to let it see a glimmer of truth. MARTLET: Enlighten me, then. What truths am I ignorant of? SCP-8400: That is not our game. Speak your truth if you know it, else forfeit. MARTLET: Very well. You seem to think more highly of me than others of my kind, but the bar is set too low for that to really be considered a compliment. When I proposed this game to you, you didn't hesitate. Sure, you're keen on the prize, but I think it goes deeper than that. You never questioned that you would win. Victory is foregone in your mind. So here is my chestnut: you underestimate me. [ SCP-8400 casts the chestnut into the air. Dr. Martlet has to jump to catch it, but keeps her balance. SCP-8400 steps forward. ] SCP-8400: Let me see it. MARTLET: You can see fine from where you are. [ She holds up the chestnut and turns it to show both sides. ] MARTLET: Undamaged. Is it so hard to believe you misjudged me? SCP-8400: Your chestnut speaks more of your own boastfulness than of me. MARTLET: If you feel I've broken the rules, then say so. [ The shards of bark composing SCP-8400 shiver and scrape loudly against each other. A mass of thorny vines breaks through the concrete and writhes in circles around its feet. ] SCP-8400: You are arrogant, even for your kind. You, who discarded your own nature to lap at the heels of tyrants. You, who play games with my birthright. You think your ploy has spared lives, but when this is through, I will strike down twice as many as might have been saved. MARTLET: Have you forgotten to call out your chestnut, or are you not confident enough in the truth of your words? SCP-8400: I have your chestnut here: despite your delusions, the two of us are not equals. [ Dr. Martlet casts the chestnut into the air. SCP-8400 snatches the chestnut in its fist. The shifting bramble at its feet comes to a sudden stop. SCP-8400 opens its palm. The chestnut is cracked. ] SCP-8400: You provoked me. MARTLET: Cracked is cracked, whether by your own strength or otherwise. [ SCP-8400 clutches at its chest and falls to one knee, dropping the chestnut onto the broken concrete. The brambles around its feet rapidly shrivel and die. ] SCP-8400: You will meet me again, child of the sun. You will meet me again. MARTLET: I'd like that very much. But until then, I hope you sleep well. [ SCP-8400 collapses to the ground, its body shattering to splinters upon impact. ] [End Log] The Second Encounter Log 2 An occurrence in Daleport, New England. Begin Log. SCP-8400 begins to assemble itself from the regrowth of partially incinerated trees. Following the Battle of Daleport in 1997, the Foundation has continued to actively monitor the vicinity of SCP-1936 for anomalous activity, and the SCP-8400 manifestation is quickly reported. Due to her rapport with SCP-8400 during its previous manifestation, Director Martlet6 is debriefed and prepares for transit to Area-37.7 Once its body has formed, SCP-8400 extends its upper right appendage to a sharpened blade, but slowly retracts its weapon as it wanders the ruins of the town. It comes across one of the few streetlights still upright and waves its fingers through its post, causing it to topple. A sound like the cry of a wounded animal can be heard, but the sound is choked as a thin sapling sprouts from the streetlight's broken base. After this, SCP-8400 displays no further interest in destructive behaviors. Some distance away at Site-12, a team of Foundation thaumaturges is gathered to create a Way8 to Daleport for Dir. Martlet. A robin lands on SCP-8400's horns. It holds out its finger, which the bird hops down to. They exchange words in a language lost to time, and the little bird flies away. As it continues to survey the ruins, SCP-8400 finds the remains of Town Hall, taking particular note of the phrase 'PANGLOSS GRANTS YOU SANCTUARY' scorched deep into the stonework above the entrance— the only wall of the structure still standing. A swathe of lit candles rest across the building's steps at SCP-8400's feet, each representing a soul. It kicks at the candles, only for its foot to pass through them. The candles remain undisturbed and intact. A Way opens a few meters north, appearing amidst a copse of trees that had grown out of the wreckage of a collapsed pharmacy. Martlet's left leg comes through first, then her head, followed in short order by the rest of her. She gestures to signal that she is clear, and the Way is snuffed out just as suddenly as it appeared. SCP-8400 visibly shudders at Martlet's approach, but does not turn around. MARTLET: "Hello again, old friend." SCP-8400: "The child of the sun with the sun in her eyes. I should cut you down where you stand." Martlet smiles and shrugs. MARTLET: "If you must. Not like there's anyone else here for you maim and kill. Work's already been done for you, I'm afraid." SCP-8400 casts its his gaze upward. Something small and sad hovers overhead. SCP-8400: "What happened here?" Martlet joins him at his side and follows his gaze, cupping a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. The body of a young girl hovers just a few meters above them, suspended by no visible means. Her dress is ragged from the elements, but her flesh is as fresh as the day she died, legs still swaying slightly in the summer breeze, face composed in restful slumber. MARTLET: "A fog came, and there was a battle. Well, a massacre, really. There's a lot we don't know." A silence passes between the two. MARTLET: "You killed a child last time we met. In that car you cut in half. Doubt you even noticed." SCP-8400: "Such is war." Martlet nods to the body above, which SCP-8400 has not yet looked away from. "So was this," she says. At that, SCP-8400 finally turns to her, his neck craning to match the difference in their height. It cracks and creaks and groans like old trees in the wind. SCP-8400: "You owe me my Name, child of the sun." MARTLET: "Maybe so." SCP-8400: "And will you give it freely?" Martlet's mouth flickers open, but she swallows the answer that threatens to come out. MARTLET: "I don't think it can work like that," she says instead. "You fail to surprise me," SCP-8400 says softly. Heaving a sigh, he descends the steps of Town Hall, motioning for Martlet to follow. "Come, then, and I will play you at chestnuts." Martlet nods, for she, too, has had already begun to get a sense for what was taking shape. The invocation of a structure is not easily undone, and its imposition over the two was quickly coming to be as firm and real as the ground beneath. And so they stood in the ruins of town square, the air thick with a haze that would never lift, the streets stained with blood that would never wash away. An enormous triangle was cut into the ground at the square, shards of brick cracked at such uncanny angles as to suggest the shape had been carved from beneath rather than above. Somewhere barely out of view, a corpse continued to bleed, just as it had been doing for many years prior, and as it would continue to do for many years to come. SCP-8400: "You seem different since last we met." MARTLET: "I have you to thank for that. I learned a lot about myself from our encounter. It was enriching." SCP-8400: "That was not my intention." MARTLET: "Well, I'm thankful regardless. It turns out I did have some skills that I wasn't fully utilizing. I have a feeling the same may still be true for you." SCP-8400: "Save your judgements for your game, child of the sun." No less than expected, Director Delaney Martlet had come prepared. She produced a chestnut from her coat pocket, shiny and round, and extended it to her companion. He shook his head. SCP-8400: "I think I should like to go first." MARTLET: "Very well. I'll hold on to this, then. Other than that, same rules?" It was agreed, and so they stood, backs together. Five paces, a swift turn to face to each other, an exchange of bows in that strange old bow, and the stage was set. SCP-8400: "You are either very brave to meet me again, or very foolish." MARTLET: "Why should that be surprising? I met you bravely before, didn't I?" SCP-8400: "You were courageous, yes, in a way one can only achieve when one is overcoming a great terror. But that terror is gone now, and it's taken your courage with it. I am unsure of what is now in its place." MARTLET: "Sounds like you regret asking to go first." SCP-8400: "No. I may have slept since I saw you last, but I walk in my dreams, and even in sleep I do not rest. I've come to realize that there is a deeper truth to you, child, just as there is a deeper truth to games, and to chestnuts. Just the same." Somewhere barely out of view, layers upon layers of hearty marigolds bloomed in the chest of a long-dead corpse, blocking the flow of blood and rendering the nature of fate slightly less certain. SCP-8400: "But there are some truths that may not be spoken in mixed company. We are not alone, after all." MARTLET: "I could have my colleagues stop monitoring us if that makes you more comfortable." SCP-8400: "It's not just your three letters I'm referring to. This place is… heavy with presence." Laughter. Very close by. The two could not hear it, but felt it all the same. SCP-8400: "The creatures here know it to be true." MARTLET: "Yes, I heard you spoke to a bird before I arrived. Can you speak to all animals?" SCP-8400: "I speak with things that are alike to me." He pointed to the freestanding wall nearby, at the words carved in flame between two marble pillars: 'PANGLOSS GRANTS YOU SANCTUARY'. SCP-8400: "I recognize that name. Not my kin, but known to us. What became of this sanctuary? Did any who lived here survive?" A line, drawn in words like a finger through sand. Not a barrier, but an arrow, pointing. MARTLET: "The records suggest that some escaped… elsewhere. Not outside the town, exactly, but outside the world itself. A few dozen of them found their way back. Most haven't been seen since." The smallest shiver, almost imperceptible, ran through the haze of the fallen town like a ripple in a pond. An atmosphere like a dream with something beneath it. MARTLET: "I like to think the others lived, though. That they're still out there, waiting for someone to tell them it's safe to come home." SCP-8400: "If they are safe where they are, they would be wise to remain there. The things that happened in this place will happen again. And again. And again. To you. To me." MARTLET: "Maybe. But if I'm there when that happens, I want to be like this Pangloss guy." SCP-8400: "There are very few left who mourn all losses and celebrate none. You're no more fit to compare yourself to him than I." The haze over the once-town had grown from a morning mist to the full ghost of a fog, and it stirred. The sun, if it still hung overhead, could only cast shadows over the world beneath. MARTLET: "Is that your chestnut? Is that a truth you're willing to stake your Name on?" Director Delaney Martlet took a deep breath and steadied herself as the shadows grew closer, shadows reminiscent of human beings in the same way a copse of trees might be reminiscent of a pharmacy. SCP-8400: "If your lost numbers came home as you claim to wish, but came home changed, bent by hardships into shapes you no longer recognized, you would not open your arms to welcome them. This is my chestnut: you wear a mask of piety, yet offer judgement and violence, same as I. On that, I stake my Name." Martlet cast her chestnut in the air. Shadows like parodies of hands reached up to grab it, but it passed through them one by one til it found its home in one of birch bark, safe and sound, and the shadows fell to wisps like steam from a kettle. MARTLET: "We should take our game somewhere else." "Do you fear the shadows?" But Martlet was already walking away when she said, over her shoulder, "I'm not overfond of what casts them." And though she could not see it from where she stood, something like a smile came over SCP-8400's face, if a piece of wood shaped like half a deer skull could be said to smile. Which it can't. The streets of Daleport had not laid straight for some time. They twisted to and fro at sharp angles, bent by a madness too great to be contained in the mind. But as the two companions walked the crooked streets, flecks of grassy green and flowery pastels began to cut through the crumbling asphalt in their wake, blending the old roads into the surrounding overgrowth, fading them like old scars. After a time, they came upon a building that had once been a library. While its walls appeared solid, they sagged, drooped, and folded like rolls of flesh, as if the structure had given up so completely that it couldn't even be bothered to fall down properly. "You said a battle was fought here," SCP-8400 said, inspecting the odd wreck in front of him. "What was the prize, then? Glory? Land? What's worth a town's weight in madness?" Delaney Martlet placed her hand at the doorway of the once-library. It trembled at her touch. "I can't speak for the reliability of the source," she said, "but it was written that the 'victor' of the conflict would 'walk from the rubbles of man and restore clarity to those who remain.' I'll let you decide how much that's worth." "And who then remained to claim that clarity, once the fog had lifted?" Hours later, in the air above, dark echoes of lives lost would perform a crude pantomime of human suffering. However, for the moment at least, the sky was clear. "No one," said Martlet. "Then it was worth nothing." Up the library steps, Delaney Martlet's fingers thrummed along the rotting wood of the doorway. The doorway thrummed back contentedly. There was a slight glint in Martlet's sunny eyes, the kind that one might explain as a trick of the light. "And your rampages, are they worth any more?" she asked. "Let's hear your vision. Do you intend to wipe the slate clean, start the world afresh like the good men of Daleport tried to do?" "I seek only to even the scales." Martlet looked at him, and did so in such a way that one would be forgiven for thinking they were the exact same height. "If you knew the exact number of those you lost, and you answered that number once, twice, even three times over, you would not lay down arms. I return your chestnut with my own: your justice is a mask for blind hatred." This must have come as some surprise to SCP-8400, as it took him a moment to cast the chestnut in kind, and indeed, he had quite forgotten he was even carrying it. But cast it he did, not from the regulation five paces, but a matter of feet. Martlet caught it handily and tucked it into her coat pocket, not bothering to check it for blemishes. The other raised no objection. "My hatred is earned," he said instead. The other raised no objection. A bell tolled somewhere nearby. "Do you think yourself powerful, child of the sun?" SCP-8400 continued. "You may have bettered yourself since we last met, yet you continue to wear your three little letters like a yoke around your neck." "I'm given a surprising amount of leeway these days. There are some in the Foundation, people like me, who are trying to change things. The Overseers—" "Your hierarchies are trivial to me. I speak of Names. You think you've found your purpose, but you are only telling yourself another one of your little stories. You believe your pursuits to be pure, but you make them in the shadow of the Name of blood, of freedom's death." Martlet's grip on the doorframe tightened. She felt a pulse quicken, and she wasn't sure it was hers. "Do you know why we call you 'logomorphs'?" she asked. "It's because your very existence is bound to words, to patterns, to rules. Human beings aren't like that. Words and names only have as much meaning as we give them." SCP-8400 pressed his fingers softly to the library's facade, carving five long thin streaks along its surface as he walked. They bled, but SCP-8400 did not see. He would only look at Martlet. "You think yourself unbeholden to words, to patterns, to rules?" he asked. "Truly? Child of the sun, you tell yourself such stories! Your three letters are no more than the sum of these things. My kind, when we are named, we determine its meaning for ourselves. You choose to bear the name Foundation, and in doing so, your meaning is determined for you. My chestnut is this: you are a prisoner, and you are content as such." This time it was Martlet's turn to hesitate, but she cast the chestnut nevertheless. SCP-8400 caught it, fingers still slick with library blood. Scraping the chestnut clean against his chest, he found it perfectly uncracked. "Interesting," Martlet whispered, but there was a dimness in her tone that rang foreign. She walked away, and SCP-8400 followed. Somewhere behind them, the quivering of a child began to calm as petals bloomed to seal her wounds. The church in Daleport, tall and proud at the heart of the town, was the only building for miles that appeared largely intact. Its stained glass still sat peacefully in frame, its shingles clung dutifully to the vaulted roof, and even the hedges along its body seemed naturally inclined to remain in well-kept lines. Much effort had gone toward the study of the church over the years, but the fact of the matter remains that no matter how many ages pass, no matter how many civilizations rise and fall, the church in Daleport will continue to stand tall and proud at the heart of town, and not a soul will ever coax out enough of its secrets to even say so much as what god it was built to. Delaney Martlet walked the edge of the church's shadow, but no further. "You take long turns, child of the sun. Do you mean to waste what little time I have before I must sleep?" Martlet breathed deep, and spoke, and as she did, walked a broad circle around her companion, never taking her sunny eyes off him for a moment. "Logomorphs. You wear your hearts on sleeve, so to speak. 'Form follows function according to the function of the form.' The curtains are never just blue. The shape you take is either the naked truth or a wholesale deception, and you don't strike me as the scheming type. So let's take you apart." SCP-8400 spoke not a word and moved not an inch. "You're tall," Martlet went on. "Well-built. But your form isn't purely musculature. It's armor. Defensive, but ready for battle. Now what about your head? Deer. Symbol of innocence. Skull, safe to say, innocence lost. No lower jaw— that type of wound isn't self-inflicted. It's rot. Loss, or disuse, maybe. You weren't chatty before we met." She stopped, heels together, toes apart. Like a dancer. "But it's your antlers that give you away. Those white bits that move all over the place aren't knots. They're eyes. We've suspected that for a while, but I never stopped to think about what it meant. All those eyes, constantly moving, never focusing on one thing. Drifting along all those branches, never settling. I know that feeling well. You think yourself a knight errant, but the truth is you're more errant than knight. I return your chestnut: you are lost, and you are content as such." Thus the chestnut was cast. However, at that very moment, the old bell tower atop the older church rang out like a great beast moaning in its sleep. Martlet faltered only for an instant, but an instant was all it took for the chestnut to slip between her fingers. It landed on the cobbles with a gentle but pointed rattle, skittered a bit, and finally came to rest in the shadow of the great church. Martlet ran to it, held it to her eyes, inspected every angle. She found it unbroken. "You fear me made whole?" SCP-8400 asked. Martlet had not noticed how close he had gotten. He was behind her, separated by no more than two or three inches of thin air. She spun around, but could not find the words she reached for. "You had no such fear when the day began, child of the sun. Perhaps you fear something else. Perhaps you wish our game to never end." SCP-8400 took Martlet's wrist in his hand, not aggressively, not tenderly, but with a conjurer's flourish. With his other, he cupped his palm over hers, one small chestnut nestled between. "Perhaps, then, this is the only victory I may steal. This is my chestnut." He leaned in close til the rough bark of his bony snout grazed Martlet's ear. Three short words were all he whispered, and as he did, the church at the heart of Daleport loomed tall and proud above them, casting a shadow that would hold safe the secrets spoken beneath it. The chestnut slid from Martlet's fingers. SCP-8400 held it between them, cupped in his hand with all the gentility one might use to cradle a tiny bird. It split cleanly in two before their eyes. "This isn't right," said Martlet. "That was the truth." She received no response to this except that strange wooden laugh as SCP-8400 fell to his knees. His hands searched the earth for support as weakness overcame him, calling forward bursts of new life wherever his touch wandered. "Bring better stories to tell me when next we play," were his parting words as his body came undone. Yet for minutes afterward, grass and moss and flowers of all sorts continued to sprout and flourish, forming a perfect outline of the place where he fell. End of log. And then, finally, the third encounter: Chapter 3 In which an invitation is extended and a transformation occurs. ometimes names are the the most important thing in the world. Names have the power to grant a life of ease, to invoke greater powers, even to bring the dead back to life— if only for an instant. And yet sometimes a name doesn't matter at all. There are many occasions in which it's infinitely less important to Be Called than it is to simply Be. So let us dispense with the formalities and ignore the name of the town where our final chapter took place. It happened in the town where you live, in a quiet spot that you pass nearly every day but never really look at. The first rays of sunlight crept up the bark of the Old Birch Tree, stirring something within. Knotted circles along the trunk blinked open into tired eyes, still half-veiled by sleep. They watched in bleary recognition as birds soared through the rolling clouds and as insects shuffled through dewy springtime grass. In that moment, for only that moment, this was not a world where old blood soaked the earth from crust to core. And then the moment passed, and SCP-8400 remembered. Rage overcame slumber. A wooded hand burst from the tree like a strike, like a scream. Then another. He pulled and he clawed and he wrestled himself from his birthing place, sucking in his first breath in moons with a grateful wheeze. That’s when he noticed the scientist. She sat on a fallen log not far away, whittling the end of a stick into the shape of a strange, footless bird. “Good morning,” she said, setting aside her handiwork. “And what a fine morning it is! If you only get to live one day every half-decade, you probably couldn’t have picked a better one than this.” Much to her companion's chagrin, she was correct. He would not concede it aloud, of course, but in his heart he knew the world was made for mornings such as these. “You’ve come for one last game,” he said instead. The scientist shook her head. She kept her hair looser these days, it seemed, and her locks bounced with every gentle shake. She dressed brighter, too, but her face had not changed. It was exactly, curiously, the same. The sun shone brightly in her eyes, and she did not shield them. “We’ll get to that,” she said. “First, I’d like you to come with me. Let me show you where I came from.” “You ask the impossible. I cannot stray far from the woods, and there can be no forests where your kind dwell. Living things wither in mere anticipation of your wake.” “Our woods may not be up to your standards, but the ghost of a forest is a forest in itself. Allow me to guide you, and if you feel yourself leaving your element, I won't ask you to go any further.” And so they began to walk, right beside the road, and that’s when SCP-8400 began to notice the true extent of how special that day might be. First there was the way the golden morning sun never seemed to move or dim as the hours progressed, always hanging just over the horizon, cutting clear dusty beams through the treetops to create a landscape of strange, shifting patterns on the ground, like shadows dancing in a shallow lakebed. Then there was the birdsong: a bit too constant and harmonious to seem purely accidental, and each note echoed in the air long after its singer had fled the sky. And strangest of all, SCP-8400 and Martlet seemed to move through the world completely unnoticed. Not a single driver or passerby slowed or turned a head to them as they walked. “Might I assume this bewitchment is your doing?” “I’ve been bleeding my dreams a bit,” Martlet confessed with a modest shrug. “Yours too. I apologize for the imposition, but there was no other way to make this possible.” "I don't dream anymore." "Sometimes we surprise ourselves." On and on they journeyed, time and distance slipping away like a stray thought, step blurring into step, all the world a soup of trees and roads and day's first light. A feeling of familiarity nagged at the back of SCP-8400's mind, an itch in the shape of a memory of a place he had never been or seen. It hurt him to think about it, so he didn't. At last they came upon a large metal gate fixed to an immense wall, which in turn encircled an even more immense conglomeration of grey rectangles. A prison to end all prisons. An injury on the world. An affront. Martlet motioned for SCP-8400 to stay put, and approached the heavily reinforced booth built into the wall beside the gate, and as she did this, something very odd began to happen. "In for a penny," said Martlet. A small man, head too large for his body and nose too large for his head, peered out from beneath the old stone bridge. "In for a pound," the small man returned, his voice low and hoarse. A thunderous crack shook over the treeline. The bramble of thorns before them began to unravel and fall away, not withering or dying, but moving like the tentacles of some unearthly leviathan— and they very well may have been— as they retreated and vanished into the same vast darkness beneath the bridge where the small man had already returned. "Come along," said Martlet. So along SCP-8400 came, mounting the steps of the grand bridge with greater trepidation than he had felt in an eternal age. Stone beasts, skeletal and unrecognized, were carved into either side of the bridge's forward approach, and their necks creaked and craned to watch over the two as they passed. "You bleed your dreams too deeply, I think," said SCP-8400. "To be clear, everything you see is completely real," Martlet assured him, gesturing at the landscape. "More real than the alternative, in most ways." SCP-8400 moved to the bridge-edge and peered over the side. An inky blackness flowed beneath, painting a broad line as far as the eye could see at either side: a dark river at first glance; something like a void, if a void could be said to pulse and undulate. Then, all at once, SCP-8400 realized he was looking at an enormous quantity of black, wet hair that flowed and squelched like a hateful parody of a babbling brook. He pondered this and moved on. The bridge came to an end just yards from the treeline of a tall and densely-set forest. The road ahead wound beneath a canopy of trees whose branches reached up to entwine and steeple with one another, giving an impression more akin to the mouth of a cave or an abandoned temple than a collection of living things. Still, Martlet walked ever forward, and SCP-8400 followed resolutely, even as the morning light faded far behind them. A fat little squirrel watched from its perch above, the blinking red crest on its forehead a mark of its vigilance. Yet no matter how much it cocked its head or adjusted its lens, the tiny creature simply could not detect The Two Somethings in The Nothing-Space before it, and its tiny motors whirred in confusion. "What manner of creature is that?" asked SCP-8400. "CCTV, most likely." As the words left Martlet's mouth, the fat little squirrel scurried from its perch and bounded down the hallway-road, its greedy cheeks stuffed with a bounty of acorns. "Don't think about it too much," she added. "Really. Don't. The metaphor may break down if you examine it too closely, and I don't know what will happen to us if we're inside it when that happens." The forest path was dim and dense. Occasionally there would be a break in the closely-set trees alongside them, through which could be seen any number of woodland creatures running around in people-clothes, conducting people-business. They spoke to one another in people-tongues, and paid the two no mind. "They're not like us," Martlet said. "Some of them know. I've been fortunate so far, but it won't be a secret for much longer." "Do you trust them?" "I love them." "Those are very different things." "I know." When the endless path ended, it deposited them in a circular clearing, at the center of which appeared to be a large hole in the ground. As they approached, it became clear that an elaborate spiral staircase was constructed along the perimeter of the pit. Moss and weeds overran the stone, creeping out through veinlike cracks. "Would you like to go first?" Dr. Martlet asked, gesturing ahead. He gave a slight nod before continuing on. And so they descended, they walked and walked and walked, down to where trust withers, where the sun fears to shine, then deeper down still, unto the darkest depths, until eventually the staircase came to an end. Before them stretched a long hallway, dimly lit by small motes of light hovering overhead that flickered and shivered as if stirring in restless sleep. SCP-8400 stopped a moment, glancing up at the lights in faint recognition, but saying nothing. Dr. Martlet simply moved ahead, stride unbroken, taking the lead. "Come," she said, a hint of urgency betraying her otherwise even voice. "We're in the final stretch." SCP-8400 did not move. "Your ghost of a forest is repugnant," he said. "It mocks that which I came from." Martlet stopped, turning around. "We can return, if that is what you wish. I am, after all, as equally bound to the rules of Hospitality as you are." "No. I will see this through." With a nod and smile, Martlet turned once more, continuing down the path. SCP-8400 followed. The hallway curved left and right like a serpent, walls growing farther apart as they went until the lights above no longer reached them, leaving a dark expanse at either side that seemed to go on forever— and very well may have. Shapes emerged dimly in the distance, squat and square. Cribs. Wood, every one, all unpainted and unembellished but far from uniform. Each edge of each piece was roughly, uniquely hewn, not a single line falling entirely straight, adding up to the impression of them certainly having been made by hand, if not grown from the earth outright. Each was set on its own curved base as if meant to be rocked, but nonetheless stood dead still. And finally, at the front of each cradle was affixed a wooden plaque. And here SCP-8400's defenses finally wavered, the ground almost rushing to him, for upon each wooden plaque was embossed a word— not in any particular language, nor even in letters, but in meanings. The essence of things, reserved. Upon each wooden plaque was embossed a name. He ran to them. FLOWERS GOLD HEART CASTLE GEARS CHATTER QUAIL CLEF SALLOW ICEBERG CROW There they stood, countless cribs arranged in neat columns and rows like well-kept gravestones, seeming to span forever, or as far as the eye could see. Whichever came first. There were so many. Some he recognized. And yet, all empty. He ran from one cradle to the next in a frenzy, but all were bare to the last. Marked by signs, yes, but devoid of that which was signified. SCP-8400 dug his fingers into the earth and let out a long, low reverberation, more akin to the thunderous felling of an old tree than anything resembling a voice. His form shifted, untethering to a buzzing mound of sharpness and sound and splinters and teeth, but the rage was less than his need to know— for that, as we have learned, is his true nature— and so the storm passed. He moved forward, but still allowed the occasional moment to linger and barely brush his fingertips along a crib's edge, trails of rapidly blossoming daisies tracing every caress. An hour, or a day, or a forever afterward, it ended. No more cribs, no more light, only darkness. And yet, amidst the only-darkness, a few paces away in the center of the room, a massive birch tree was visible, unlit from any source and half-shrouded in contradiction, but clear as day all the same. At the base of the tree was a wooden cellar door, shut tight in layers of chains topped by a single, formidable lock. The only sounds to be heard were that of footsteps— their own, presumably— and the distant rush of flowing water. Delaney Martlet approached the tree, placing her hand on it gently. She stroked it, tender but respectful, then turned to SCP-8400. He watched her closely, every wooden joint tensed in anticipation, like a lion ready to pounce should its prey bolt for safety. Moving with the decisiveness of someone keenly aware of her every action— though less out of caution than ceremony— Martlet crouched down to the cellar door at her feet, took the cold steel lock in one hand, and produced a humble key from her pocket with the other. A quiet click! followed, and in a single instant the lock crumbled to a fine ash. There wasn't the slightest breeze, yet the ash blew away all the same, leaving nothing but the outline of a memory. "Now then," Martlet said finally, breaking the silence like a spell. "End of the line." "Open it," SCP-8400 commanded. She nodded. The old wooden door gave way with a heavy groan and a burst of dust, revealing a shallow compartment occupied only by a hardwood steamer trunk. It was old, but not ancient; richly ornamented, but stained thick in dirt and mold and tarnish. "What lies within?" he asked, stepping forward. "Open it," Martlet echoed in return, now standing straight. SCP-8400 hesitated. He took a knee and reached towards the trunk, carefully taking the lid beneath his thumb. Slowly, he pried it open. The trunk was full of heads. Infant heads, pale, still, and calm, as if frozen in an enchanted slumber. "Dead?" SCP-8400 asked, trembling. Martlet took his hand. "Diminished, I think." Bent and quivering, SCP-8400 raised a hand to the trunk, but pulled it away, every eye along his antlers screwing up tight. "I don't recognize which one is my own," he whispered, barely above a breath. When at last he opened his eyes, Martlet was smiling at him, the same sad smile she'd worn for much of their journey: cryptic and knowing, but absent of condescension. The smile of a friend? Not quite. A kindred smile. A smile like a mirror. And, raised beside that smile between two fingers of her right hand, was a chestnut, looking for all the world like an artifact of a long-forgotten lifetime, and SCP-8400 remembered the terms of their agreement. "The final game," said one. "The final game," said the other. An exchange of nods. For the first moment in what felt like eons, the mechanisms of time began to creak back into motion. A flicker of walls flashed all around, a flicker of locks and machines and so much steel— but only a flicker, and when it passed, once again all that remained was the tree, the trunk, and the dark, and the two. Martlet passed on the chestnut, claiming the first turn. Back against back. Five long strides in either direction. A turn of the heels and a locking of eyes, unequal in number as they might have been. SCP-8400 bowed to Delaney Martlet, and Delaney Martlet bowed to SCP-8400, and this time, they meant it. "It's almost nostalgic at this point, isn't it?" asked Martlet, her golden eyes catching the sunlight in a place where sunlight would never reach. "You certainly seem to have learned much in the time that has passed." "It's funny you say that. Before our last meeting, I had thought perhaps we were both meant to teach each other something. And we have. But more than that, I had it in my mind that we were both equally wrong, I suppose. That somehow I'd come out of our little game a better person and it would cost me absolutely nothing. And eventually, painfully, I realized that was impossible." SCP-8400 nods, his eyes involuntarily drawn to the chest of heads beside them. "Such is the nature of sacrifice." "We— I mean, the Foundation likes to act as though we're fighting a losing battle, as if the tide of chaos will wash us away if we let up for even a moment. But that's not true. The truth is we're winning, and we've been winning for a long time. We fight. We suffer losses. But we're winning. We have control. I thought I wanted peace. I wanted to fix you, to stop you being a monster, while I happily remained a part of the thing that made you that way." "And now?" "I'm not even sure what monsters are anymore. But I know that peace can't exist on my terms alone. And I know that whatever you are, it is more than just the sum of what you lack. This is my chestnut: you were born from the formless, injured remains of the thing a Name was taken from. But now, you are something new." The chestnut was cast. The chestnut was caught. "You have shown me much on this journey," said SCP-8400, "and I have wrestled with what I've seen. These visions, these bleeding dreams, both true and untrue— they confound and discomfort me. And yet, I believe I have begun to ken the nature of what you've revealed. I confess, when I spoke to you last, I could not have anticipated the extent of this." "I owe you a lot. After I realized I wasn't fully human, the pieces started to fit into place." "And a great many pieces there are. So let us speak the truth of you, 'child of the sun', and speak it plainly in the cover of darkness. I return your chestnut: you were molded from the formless, injured remains of a taken Name. But now, you are something new. " The chestnut was cast. The chestnut was caught. Far away, a cradle rocked in the breeze. "So many stories," Martlet said with a sigh. "We tell tales of your kind stealing our children away and raising them as your own. 'Every accusation is a confession,' as the saying goes. It's hard to articulate how perverse it all is. Not only did we take your names, we raised the few that weren't slain to help lock away the vengeful echoes created by their absence." "You still speak of as if you are one of them." "I am. In every way that matters, I've been one of them. Lived with them. Worked for them. Loved them. Devoured their stories and made them my own." Site-24 Director Delaney Martlet stood in the darkness, and against the darkness she cast a shadow. It had the shape of a bird in flight, one that would never, ever land. "But I've never really belonged. How could I, living under false pretenses? It's high time I came home. And that is my chestnut: now that we have found each other, we may finally become one again." The chestnut was cast. It broke to pieces in the air. The martlet rushed to the pieces before they even had time to strike the ground. She crawled in a panic wherever they scattered, gathering them in her hands, her pockets, her beak. Try as she might— and any could see that she really, truly tried— the pieces would not fit together. The other half of her soul came forward, gardens beyond imagination blooming behind every footfall. He held her as she wept. The final game was won. "Oh!" Martlet exclaimed, drying her eyes. "Right. Terms of Hospitality. You've earned your name." "I know where my name is," the other said softly. "No, that's not enough." She rose to her feet and returned to the old steamer trunk where the dormant Names lay sound asleep. "Take one," she instructed. "But their other halves—" "They have none. Not anymore. They're orphans now. That's why they sleep." SCP-8400 approached trunk slowly, his multitude of eyes scanning over the innocent faces inside. He took his time. A choice was made. He turned it over in his hand, observing all its features as the infant's head cooed in its slumber. Finally, he leaned forward and took a bite. When he pulled it away, only apple flesh could be seen beneath the broken skin. A honeyed liquid oozed from the head, staining the nameless creature's mouth and hand as he tore into it with the voracity of a man starved. It was only a matter of seconds before all that remained were the stains of juice on his fingers. Beithe. The hunger of an entire existence finally sated, Beithe reclined himself against the lone birch tree. He held a hand above his face as if to block out the sun, though there was no sun in that place. It was the hand itself he marveled at, taking in the soft contours of his fingers the way one might admire the early morning sky. "Not at all ill-fitting," said Beithe. "It tastes correct against my tongue." Indeed, that was another thing he now possessed. "Glad to hear it, Beithe," said Martlet, perching at his shoulder. And they rested there together, the two once-half-selves, and considered the new things they found themselves to be. They lingered there for a good while. Not as long as the two might have preferred, but they knew the way home would be much longer still. "What will you do now?" asked Beithe. Martlet smiled and shrugged. "I'm still the Director. And I'm still a leader. Maybe it's time for our branch to break off. Let something new take root." "I see. What sort of thing would this new thing be?" The martlet set her chin on her wing thoughtfully. "There are myths, you know. The Foundation is bursting with myths— that's just what you call a secret you're not supposed to know, really. I've heard stories of a world where none of this happened. Where everyone made the right choices, and we live hand-in-hand and side-by-side." "But those things did happen here. This is not that world. And it cannot be." "No, it can't. But perhaps we can still learn from it." A moment of quiet, and then Martlet rose. "We are small," she admitted, "but we will survive. Those who choose to go on bearing the name 'Foundation' can suffer under its weight by their own will." Beithe rose to join her. His joints did not creak. His eyes were set and focused. "And what will you call yourself instead?" he asked. "Maybe one day, a very long time from now, we'll earn a name worth aspiring to. Until then? Well. There are worse things than being nameless." The knight cracked his knuckles, savoring the sensation of his bones and the marrow within them. "You will be opposed," he told her, a smile concealed beneath his words. "Then it's fortunate I won't face them alone." And they walked together, hand-in-hand, out of the endless darkness and into something far less knowable. ❖❖❖ ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8400" by Uncle Nicolini and PeppersGhost, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8400. 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: knight.jpg Name: Knight Author: PeppersGhost and their sister License: CC BY SA 3.0 Source Link: Filename: KenmareWide.jpg Name: Stone Circle at Kenmare Author: David Stanley License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: s.png Name: Nonsense Songs, Stories, Botany, and Alphabets - initial S Author: Edward Lear License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by PeppersGhost Filename: theend.png Name: Imitationofchrist-end Author: J. Finch License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by PeppersGhost Footnotes 1. Specifically Betula pubescens, commonly referred to as the white birch. 2. An important exception to this property is the gravitational force of SCP-8400's own weight against the ground it rests on. If this exception did not exist, SCP-8400 would theoretically fall through the Earth itself until it reached the planet's gravitational center. 3. It is unknown if SCP-8400 purposefully selects which tree it manifests from, or if the selection is random or otherwise outside SCP-8400's control. 4. Regional rapid-response team not assigned to containment of any one SCP. 5. Dr. Martlet was later reprimanded for breaching protocol by lying to a logomorphic entity. 6. Dr. Delaney Martlet was appointed Director of Site-24 in the intervening years since SCP-8400's previous manifestation. 7. Outpost dedicated to observation of SCP-1936 and the study of the Battle of Daleport. 8. Extraspacial passage used to quickly traverse long distances. |
SCP-8401 | keter | At least you won't die alone. Item#: SCP-8401 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: notice link to memo SCP-8401 in containment. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8401 is contained in a standard small animal aquarium at Site-58. It has been microchipped with a small, waterproof GPS tracker. Should SCP-8401 be absent from its tank for a period of longer than 30 minutes, the tracking data is to be consulted and SCP-8401 recovered as soon as possible. Description: SCP-8401 is an Ambystoma mexicanum (Axolotl) of average size and weight. It is capable of speech and believed to be sapient, though it has not responded clearly to any lines of questioning or attempt at conversation. SCP-8401 is also capable of long-range teleportation. When SCP-8401 detects that an individual has been injured, it will teleport to the individual. It is unclear what criteria SCP-8401 follows to determine who to teleport to. An abbreviated log of appearances prior to containment has been transcribed below. Date # of Fatalities Notes 30/08/24 27 Discovered following CI raid on Site-17. Injuries range from bullet wounds to major head trauma. Anomaly demanifested when spotted. 04/09/24 54 Discovered following large scale containment breach at Site-34. Anomaly dove into a deceased agent's open chest and vanished before it could be captured. 18/11/24 0 Discovered at Site-58 after Dr. Rosemary stubbed his toe against his desk. Anomaly escaped out the office door when Dr. Rosemary attempted to grab it, demanifesting. Addendum 8401.1: Discovery SCP-8401 was initially discovered atop the corpse of Agent Drew Mayweather, who perished in a small-scale containment breach at Site-19. It was initially handled with extreme care, believed to have been the reasoning behind the agent's death. Containment procedures were relaxed following review of Agent Mayweather's body cam, which has been transcribed below. Foreward: Extraneous footage removed. <Begin Log> Agent Mayweather crawls over to a nearby wall and leans himself against it. He pants heavily, holding a hand against his stomach. He pulls his hand away, revealing a large gash in his torso. Mayweather: Sh-shit… it's really over, huh? Mayweather exhales sharply and slumps back. Mayweather: Guess I should've seen this coming. I just… Mayweather looks around. He exhales sharply. Mayweather: …Wish I wasn't gonna die alone. SCP-8401 manifests midair and lands in his lap with a soft thud. Agent Mayweather jolts. SCP-8401: Hiya! Mayweather: W-what the hell?! SCP-8401: Golly mister, you don't look so good! Mayweather: What? SCP-8401: Looks like you got a nasty owwie there! Golly gee that must hurt a bunch! Mayweather: Y-yeah. It… Mayweather sputters, coughing a small amount of blood that splashes on SCP-8401's face. SCP-8401: Yay! Confetti! Mayweather shudders. SCP-8401: Tell me, does it hurt an axo-little or an axo-lottle? Mayweather falls over, unresponsive. SCP-8401: Mister? <End Log> ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8401" by OriTiefling & Queerious, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8401. 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: Axolotl.png Author: LaDameBucolique License: Public Domain Source Link: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5c/Axolotl-2193331_1280.webp/640px-Axolotl-2193331_1280.webp.png Notes: Axolotl :) |
SCP-8404 | keter | Feat, art by @CuPriferous_ on twitter(go follow) > Credentials received. Welcome Investigator. > One(1) item requires your services. Category B: Recent containment breach. >> Open file: SCP-8404. > Confirmed. > Retrieving content… Item#: 8404 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: critical link to memo SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: SCP-8404 is to be kept in a medically induced coma and not to be awakened under any circumstances. Any SCP-8404-1 entities that are created as a result of its anomalous properties are to be terminated on sight. Containment Site-22 was erected around SCP-8404’s location with a 20m radius ‘Red Zone’ established around the containment chamber. No living entity is permitted to enter this zone. Foundation personnel who must enter this zone for maintenance and repair of containment devices, or the neutralisation of SCP-8404-1 entities must carry with them a portable Scranton Reality Anchor in order to prevent transmutation. 24/7 maintenance of vital SIMULACRUM systems is to be maintained at all times. Should a containment breach occur, automated emergency systems will attempt to neutralise SCP-8404 and any SCP-8404-1 instances. MTF-Lambda-22 will be on standby as site security as well as assisting in evacuation or re-containment of SCP-8404. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8404 is a large deific entity approximately 50m at its full length. Its appearance varies between viewers, however, certain elements remain constant. These include an upper half which appears almost humanoid with reptilian features, with its lower half being completely reptilian with scales and clawed feet, if legs are present at all. Statue depicting SCP-8404 Occult historians and other evidence point to SCP-8404 being the physical manifestation of Echidna.1 Aside from its unnatural strength and ability to breathe fire, SCP-8404’s main anomalous property is to mutate living organisms and nonliving matter into instances of SCP-8404-1. These instances vary widely in appearance. In living subjects, they are usually a composite of the non-anomalous subject and several other animals2. The process is extremely painful and involves the conversion or growing of new appendages belonging to a separate animal. In non-living subjects3, a similar process is observed. Dissection of these instances shows a fusion of new organic material with the inorganic material containing rudimentary circulatory and nervous analogous systems. SCP-8404 notably favours using already living organisms or organic tissue rather than inorganic material. All instances of SCP-8404-1 retain a certain level of autonomy but will become loyal to SCP-8404. This effect persists even after all mutated tissue is amputated from affected subjects. > Opening attached file. PROJECT LETHE: Following the capture of SCP-8404, it was noted that its anomalous property was still active even when the anomaly remained unconscious, albeit at a reduced rate. The SCP-8404-1 instances produced at this time were more aggressive and erratic, attacking any human they came into contact with. However, after brain wave scans of SCP-8404, Foundation researchers found that SCP-8404-1 transmutation only occurred outside of the REM stage of the sleep cycle. Short-term success with high-dosage sleeping medication was found, however, the high cost and inconsistent results required a more permanent solution. As such, Project Lethe was initiated. Using an isolated SIMULACRUM network, SCP-8404 is to be placed in a Class-B4 pre-rendered environment. This environment will be inhabited by several NPCs, the majority of which use predictive text to mimic a simple conversation. Two companion AI characters with higher capacity dialogue generators are to follow SCP-8404. A single camera is present to follow SCP-8404 at all times, giving a live feed of its actions. While only one camera is able to give a live feed at a time, researchers will also be able to monitor SCP-8404 as well as the surrounding environment through the free pathing replay function which saves a recording of all activity and conversation within a certain area. The purpose of this project is to place SCP-8404 in an environment indistinguishable from consensus reality with no physical matter. Through this, its anomalous effect can be neutralised. . . . > Credentials accepted. Welcome Investigator. > Retrieving content… > System startup completed. Welcome to the LETHE ADMINISTRATIVE CONSOLE. > Please input a command to continue. >> Access 04/04/2023 replay, coordinates {0, 0, 0}. > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 04/04/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 0800 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {0, 0, 0} [BEGIN REPLAY] Environment loads, showing an urban environment. Lighting, models, and textures take longer to load due to it being the first render. Environment fully renders and SIMULACRUM systems prepare to load SCP-8404 player data into the player character. Killswitches are primed in case arcane inhibitors fail. Data insertion complete in 3… 2… 1… The player model opens its eyes. SCP-8404 scans the surrounding environment. Dialogue systems are engaged for the first time. SCP-8404 gasps. SCP-8404 coughs and looks up. It scans its surroundings and appears distressed. SCP-8404: W-what is this? Where am I? I-I-was surrounded and- SCP-8404’s eyes widen. SCP-8404: I remember. Foundation… FOUNDATION!! It faces the skybox and screams. SCP-8404: YOU INSOLENT MORTALS WHERE HAVE YOU TRANSPORTED ME?! YOU- It stands up and points to the sky. SCP-8404 appears shocked, most likely noticing it has two legs. SCP-8404: No… NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?! It covers its mouth as the scream was more high-pitched than it was in its original body. It touches its face, recoiling as it does so. SCP-8404 looks at its hands inquisitively, pulling on its clothes. SCP-8404: You dare… YOU DARE?! ARROGANT CREATURES! WHAT KIND OF REALM IS THIS?! SCP-8404 breathes heavily. SCP-8404: It matters little. Using its hands, it prepares to form arcane symbols and sigils. Companion Entity 01(CE-01-IT) - “Ichiro Tadashi” loads around the corner. It walks over to SCP-8404. CE-01-IT: Oh, u-uh hi I heard some yelling around the corner. Is everything okay? SCP-8404 snaps to face CE-01-IT and glares at it. SCP-8404: Living flesh. You will do as a start. CE-01-IT: Ummm, sorry? SCP-8404: Now, BECOME SUBSERVIENT. SHED THY FLESH. MY CREATION, SPRING FORTH FROM THE SOIL WHICH I HAVE GIVEN YOU! SCP-8404 extends its hands forward, flashing thaumaturgic hand signals. Its smile fades as nothing happens. CE-01-IT appears confused. CE-01-IT: Eheheheh, are you alright? SCP-8404: W-what? My magic… SCP-8404 attempts to form its thaumaturgic signs but is unable to without the original number of hands and fingers it had, its perception of reality also heavily affecting its thaumaturgic ability in this space. SCP-8404: No… They took it. SCP-8404 clenches its teeth. SCP-8404: You BASTARDS! I’LL CRUSH YOU ALL WHERE YOU STAND! SCP-8404 slumps to the ground and breathes heavily. CE-01-IT: Hey, that uniform… You attend Shinjuku Chuo Prefecture High School, don’t you? SCP-8404 stares intensely at CE-01-IT. SCP-8404: …What? CE-01-IT: That’s our school uniform. But I’ve never seen you before… Oh! Are you the new transfer student? Pleasure to meet you. My name is Ichiro Tadashi. CE-01-IT extends its hand for a handshake. SCP-8404 does not reciprocate. CE-01-IT: The school is that way, but we gotta hurry or we’ll miss homeroom! CE-01-IT runs in the direction of the school, SCP-8404 looks at it in confusion before following. SCP-8404: (muttering)What in Hades’ name is a home room? The two silently walk to the school. SCP-8404 observes its surroundings, showing a typical Japanese city street. The sun is bright and the ambient sound of cicadas can be heard. As they approach the school, more NPCs wearing similar uniforms can be seen. CE-01-IT waves to the occasional student who waves back. CE-01-IT: We’re here. The school is sparsely crowded with student NPCs. They ignore SCP-8404 who does not interact with them. SCP-8404 appears nervous and hesitant to enter an area with a high concentration of humans. CE-01-IT: Come on, class 1-3 is this way. SCP-8404 hesitates but enters the school grounds and into the main building. SCP-8404 walks through the hallway and passes by the classroom. A window allows it to see into the classroom. SCP-8404 stops to notice its reflection in the window. SCP-8404 It pauses momentarily, touching its face and flexing its jaw before looking in disgust and sadness. Companion Entity 02(CE-02-NS) - ‘Nakamura Sumiko’ appears behind the window. It opens the classroom window and smiles. CE-02-NS: Ya-ho! Hi Tadashi! Who’s this? You and a girl I’ve never seen before? I’m sensing something interesting~ SCP-8404 attempts the same thaumaturgic sign on CE-02-NS but is once again unsuccessful. SCP-8404: (sigh) Gods, I don’t remember humans being this headache-inducing. CE-02-NS: Hm? Did you say something? SCP-8404: No. CE-01-IT blushes. CE-01-IT: Sumiko? I-It’s nothing like that! This is the new transfer student. CE-02-NS: Well get inside then, Sensei’s already here! They enter the classroom. NPCs move around the classroom in set paths or sit in small groups reciting pre-generated dialogue. The teacher stands up which signals the student NPCs to stop all dialogue.5 SENSEICHAR_02: Alright class. Settle down, we have a new transfer student, her name is Kato Midori. Please keep her in your care. SCP-8404: What?! My name is Echidna! Don’t you Foundation insects dare take away the one thing I have left! SENSEICHAR_02 stands up, being significantly taller and larger than SCP-8404. SENSEICHAR_02: Midori-san please go to your seat and do not raise your voice. SCP-8404 hesitates upon seeing the difference in size. It clenches its fist. SCP-8404: THEN PERISH! GRAAH! SCP-8404 punches SENSEICHAR_02. It does not move. SCP-8404: What? SCP-8404 continues to punch and kick the NPC with the strength equivalent to a high schooler. SENSEICHAR_02 still does not move. SCP-8404: WHY WON'T YOU FALL?! SCP-8404's punches slow and eventually stop. It looks up at SENSEICHAR_02 in fear. SENSEICHAR_02: Midori-san please go to your seat and do not raise your voice. SCP-8404: Please, I-I beg of you… SENSEICHAR_02 folds its arms. SCP-8404 looks at its hands, making mock thaumaturgical symbols to no effect. Its shoulders drop. SCP-8404: …Fine. SENSEICHAR_02: Thank you. SCP-8404 sits at her desk, folding its arms and burying its head in them. CE-02-NS, who is in the neighbouring seat, smiles. CE-02-NS: Hi Midori-chan~! I’m Nakamura Sumiko! Oh my gosh, you are going to love it here! We’re gonna have so much fun! Do you play any sports? What kind of boys do you like? Is it Tadashi~? SCP-8404: Tartarus would have given me less agony. CE-02-NS: Hm? Did you say something? You’re speaking into your sleeve. SCP-8404: No. SENSEICHAR_02: Anyways class, onto announcements and the upcoming sports festival. In the meantime, please prepare your math textbooks. [END LOG] REPLAY DATE: 04/04/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 1200 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {5, -50, 2} [BEGIN REPLAY] The third teacher NPC leaves the classroom. Each teacher reads out a pre-generated speech which lasts for 1 hour. These segments were used to reduce power on the processing of the other NPC’s actions as the student NPCs do not move or generate dialogue in these segments. CE-02-NS stands up and stretches. CE-02-NS: Uwahhh~ finally done! Classes can get pretty tough. Am I right Midori-chan? SCP-8404 holds its face in its hands. SCP-8404: By the name of the old beasts, why must I have to be subjected to this torture? Which higher being must I pray to obtain freedom once more? CE-02-NS: Hehe! Tell me about it! SCP-8404 glares at CE-02-NS. It appears to want to say something but stops itself and attempts to sleep on the desk. CE-02-NS: Oi, Midori-chan let's go grab lunch! SCP-8404: I swear on all that is unholy, do not call me that false name. My name is Echidna, Mother of Monsters! I have crushed so many of your kind and many more will come as soon as I regain my strength! CE-02-NS appears confused. CE-02-NS: Well that’s not a fun nickname, what about Mii-chan? SCP-8404: Please don’t. CE-02-NS: Midi-chan? SCP-8404: No! Fine, you win. My name is Midori. Thank you for irritating me into ridding myself of the last thing I can still hold to myself. SCP-8404 slams its head on the desk. Noticing that physical trauma does not cause pain in the simulation. CE-02-NS: Okay! So, Midori-chan, you wanna get lunch? We’ll show you where the cafeteria is! SCP-8404: I do not require your human-made filth, much less your company in eating it. Even if I was hungry which I am not- A loud growl is heard from SCP-8404 and jagged, cartoon lines emanate from its stomach. SCP-8404 blushes and tries to bat away the lines. SCP-8404: This body continues to humiliate me. CE-02-NS: So does that mean you’ll come for lunch? SCP-8404: …Fine. I suppose this body requires sustenance. CE-02-NS: Yay!!!! Oi Tadashi-kun, come with us! CE-01-IT: Eh? Sure, but I need to finish my math homework. CE-02-NS: You can finish it over lunch. How are you gonna focus on an empty stomach anyway? CE-01-IT: True. SCP-8404: Ugh, first you irritate me into going to this ‘cafeteria’ but then delay your movements with inane conversation. CE-02-NS: Wow Midori-chan, you must be really hungry huh? You heard her Tadashi, lets pick up the pace. SCP-8404: I hate you with every fibre of my being. SCP-8404 and the two CEs walk to the cafeteria where several NPCs are seated. The three obtain their food and find a free table to sit. Food within SIMULACRUM systems simulate the approximate taste of the food item but has been reported to taste slightly muted. A hitbox is placed on the tongue of the player model where the food will disappear upon contact with the tongue. CE-02-NS: What do you think? I don’t really like the food here that much but it's just a me thing. SCP-8404 is attempting to stab itself in the neck with a fork. It is unsuccessful. SCP-8404: DAMN IT ALL! There really is no escape from this prison. It throws the fork across the room, bouncing harmlessly off another NPC’s head. CE-02-NS: Hey, the food isn’t that bad. Maybe you’ll feel better if you have something to eat. SCP-8404: Fine. On SCP-8404’s plate is a large portion of yakisoba and a bowl of miso soup. It grabs several strands of noodles with its hands and eats them. Its eyes widen. SCP-8404: …Dear gods, this food is incre- (clears throat) Acceptable. The food in this realm serves its purpose. It should be noted that SCP-8404 has never tasted food cooked by humans before. CE-02-NS: Good for you! Oi Tadashi-kun, your noodles are getting cold. Are you still doing homework? CE-01-IT: I will, but I can’t seem to figure out this question. SCP-8404: That one? Simpleton human. You didn’t account for the constant when you integrated the exponential figure. CE-01-IT looks at its question, thinks, and solves the question. CE-01-IT: You’re right. Wow Midori-san, that’s incredible. SCP-8404: Tch. I was there when calculus was invented. It was no surprise during the mathematics class I was bored out of my mind. Don’t get me started on biology class. CE-02-NS: You must be like a genius or something. Are all the classes easy for you? SCP-8404: Of course they are. Except for history. Normally I would excel in this too but I am unfamiliar with this distant otherworldly country. CE-01-IT: You mean Japan? SCP-8404: Yes. CE-02-NS: Ehhh? So you do have weaknesses! SCP-8404: What?! No! I would never reveal such a thing! CE-02-NS: Ha ha! You’re funny Midori-chan. Were you like this in your previous school? CE-01-IT: Come to think of it, you never told us where you transferred from. SCP-8404 stops midway from placing another noodle in its mouth. SCP-8404: Where I came from… It… SCP-8404 releases the food from its fingers.. SCP-8404: …It does not matter. All I know is that I am here now. CE-01-IT: That is a good mindset to have. SCP-8404: What? CE-02-NS: Yeah! It’s always great to be grateful for what you have now! SCP-8404 looks down at its hands. SCP-8404: What I have now huh? Tch. CE-01-IT: Perhaps you have people from your hometown you miss? CE-02-NS: Oh right! Did you have classmates you ate lunch with like this? SCP-8404 pauses. SCP-8404: …No. There is no one left from where I come from. Damn Foundation. I do remember eating with my… creations, similar to this, but I always kept my distance. I do not expect you humans to understand. CE-02-NS: Well, they may not be here now, but now you have us! SCP-8404: Excuse me? CE-01-IT: She’s trying to say she wants to be your friend like the ones you miss. SCP-8404: They’re not… (sigh) I realised I am unable to summon the energy to argue with you. You may be my ‘friend’ Sumiko. CE-02-NS: Yay! CE-02-NS attempts to hug SCP-8404. SCP-8404’s face twists in disgust as it tries to push CE-02-NS away. SCP-8404: GAH! STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU WRETCHED MORTAL CREATURE! A large cloud of dust forms around the two push and pull away from each other with only the limbs visible momentarily. The dust clears and CE-02-NS is hugging SCP-8404. SCP-8404 appears miserable. SCP-8404: Of all the creatures in all the realms to best me… CE-02-NS: Did you call me bestie? Awww Midori-chan I don’t know what to say! SCP-8404: Ugh. CE-01-IT laughs. It checks its watch and its eyes widen.. CE-01-IT: Oh no! Lunch break is almost over! We have to go for another class and then P.E. CE-02-NS: Yay! I heard they’re doing baseball later! CE-01-IT: It’s too bad I’m no good at sports. CE-02-NS: Midori-chan have you played baseball before? SCP-8404: What in Zeus’ name is a base-ball? CE-02-NS: You’ve never played? It’s a good thing I love sports so I can teach you. SCP-8404: A game? As if I would have any interest in any kind of pointless human pastime. [END LOG] REPLAY DATE: 04/04/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 1900 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {22, 0, 1} [BEGIN LOG] The sun begins to set as the skybox transitions from its daytime configuration to its night-time configuration. SCP-8404 and CE-01-IT walk together down the street. CE-01-IT: (yawn) Another day at school done. I’m so tired. SCP-8404: I never knew such mundane action could drain so much of my strength. CE-01-IT: It wasn’t all bad at least. How was your first game of baseball? SCP-8404: The reflexes in this accursed body are serviceable but I am not used to holding such an implement yet. CE-01-IT: Well that's just everyone when they first start something new. Who knows, maybe you’ll become the best in the school. SCP-8404: To display my superiority over these feeble creatures does sound enticing… CE-01-IT: Ehh, so you did enjoy it… SCP-8404: Enough with your insinuations. I simply found it less mundane than listening to information I already know. Sumiko was also quiet for once. CE-01-IT: Until she saw you hit the ball once. SCP-8404: My moment of glory overtaken by that… thing. CE-01-IT: I think she means well. We’ve known each other for a while. SCP-8404: At least you are nothing alike. It is more peaceful in your presence. CE-01-IT: Ehehe, thank you Midori-san. CE-01-IT sheepishly smiles and rubs the back of his head. SCP-8404: I do not require your thanks. CE-01-IT stops, gesturing to the suburban house in front of it. SCP-8404 checks the address placed in its school bag upon first loading and confirms it is correct. The nameplate on the front of the house displays it belongs to the Kato household, SCP-8404’s assigned residence. CE-01-IT: Well, we’re here. The streets here can look pretty similar so I understand if you got lost. SCP-8404: Whatever. I give you gratitude for being my guide and bringing me to my… home. CE-01-IT: You’re welcome! Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow at school. SCP-8404: Tomorrow…? Tadashi, might I ask. CE-01-IT: Hm? SCP-8404: Is every day like this? CE-01-IT: You mean the school? Pretty much. SCP-8404: I see. Goodbye then. CE-01-IT: Good night! CE-01-IT walks away to its residence where it will enter its inactive state at 2300 SCP-8404 enters the house and turns on the lights to find the house is lightly furnished. A couch, chairs, and a table occupy the living room with a houseplant. SCP-8404 attempts to use thaumaturgy on the plant but nothing happens. It sighs and explores the house, finding the laundry room, bathroom, and a bedroom. SCP-8404: So this is what a human considers shelter. Two hours pass and SCP-8404 squats in the corner of the bedroom, holding a broom in a defensive position. SCP-8404: Come now, Foundation. You’ve sent me to this realm to weaken me. Now send in your champion to finish me off. WHERE ARE YOU?! It sits in the corner of the room, eyes darting to the door and the window for intruders. Another hour passes and nothing has happened. SCP-8404: Really? In the middle of the bedroom is a large futon. SCP-8404 slowly approaches it on all fours and inspects it closely. SCP-8404: What even is this item? SCP-8404 pokes the futon cautiously before feeling it more thoroughly. SCP-8404: Gods, it is as if a cloud was given form. SCP-8404 looks around the house, noticing no other being is present. It lays under the blanket and sighs. SCP-8404 stares at the ceiling, unmoving for several minutes. SCP-8404: What is this? This feeling… SCP-8404 continues to lie awake for thirty minutes before falling asleep. [END LOG] >> Was anything unusual reported regarding SCP-8404 before the breach? > SCP-8404 would attempt to run out of the bounds of the simulation each night after 05/04/2023 before sleeping. However, each night it would reach the boundary where the player model would return to its residence. It ceased this behaviour on 15/04/2023.6 >> Besides that? > Zero(0) major reports within that criteria. >> Skim through simulation replays beginning with 07/04/2023 > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 07/04/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 1045 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {4, -50, 2} [BEGIN LOG] SCP-8404, CE-01-IT and CE-02-NS sit in the school library.. SCP-8404: …after you solve for x, you just apply the chain rule here. CE-01-IT: Like this? Oh, that makes so much more sense. Thanks for helping me out Midori-san. SCP-8404: Tch. It is only because you asked. CE-01-IT: Well, I can't help that you're just so smart. SCP-8404 huffs. SCP-8404: Of course I am— I mean shut up! I do not need your patronizing! CE-02-NS: Gah! I don’t know how you two do it, I’m so tired! SCP-8404: It's just arithmetic. CE-02-NS: I know! And I don’t like it! Ugh, I’d rather be outside right now. SCP-8404: (muttering) Finally, something you’re unhappy about. CE-01-IT: You sure love sports, don't you Sumiko? CE-02-NS: I love sports! Moving around makes me feel a lot better than being in here that’s for sure. What about you Tadashi? CE-01-IT: Me? I think I like studying? CE-02-NS: Oh come on Tadashi, that’s not a hobby, that's a job. CE-01-IT: Hmm, I’m really trying to think. CE-02-NS: Yeah, what about things that you do after school? CE-01-IT: I walk home and… huh. I don't know. What do you do, Sumiko? CE-02-NS: I… SCP-8404: Whatever his favourite pastime is, you are correct that we should leave soon. P.E is soon. CE-01-IT: Isn't it pretty early? CE-02-NS: Ehhh, I've never seen so excited for a class Midori-chan. What could this– (gasp) we're playing baseball again! You're excited, aren't you? CE-01-IT: She did seem to enjoy it last time, even if didn't so very- SCP-8404: Silence, both of you! I did adequately for my first attempts and I simply enjoy a break from the monotony of lessons! CE-01-IT: There's no shame in admitting you like something, and you are improving at an amazing rate. SCP-8404 blushes. SCP-8404: A human game? Not a chance! It means nothing to me. [END LOG] > Next replay loading… > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 14/04/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 1135 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {3, -49, 2} [BEGIN LOG] NPCs gather in the centre to simulate a P.E class, playing baseball. SCP-8404 is batting. It furrows its brow and squints its eyes to focus on the pitcher. Its teeth are clenched and hands are gripping hard on the baseball bat. The pitcher throws the ball but SCP-8404 does not blink. A loud crack is heard as SCP-8404 swings the bat, the barrel colliding with the ball. The ball flies. It continues to fly. The ball lands. The referee NPC declares it a home run and the batting team the winner. Students cheer. SCP-8404 screams and runs to home base. It has a wide smile on its face. As wide of a smile as its model is capable of generating. SCP-8404: YES! HAHAHA!! I DID IT! BOW BEFORE ME WORLD FOR THIS REALM HAS A NEW CHAMPION AHAHAHAHA! CE-01-IT and CE-02-NS run up to it. CE-02-NS: Midori-chan! CE-02-NS leaps and hugs SCP-8404. SCP-8404 appears shocked by the embrace. CE-02-NS: That was amazing! CE-01-IT: Your hard work is really paying off! SCP-8404 blushes and pushes CE-02-NS away. SCP-8404: Of course it did! Finally managed to understand these limbs and the rest was easy! CE-02-NS: But still– CE-01-IT: It was really cool. SCP-8404: Y-you guys really think– (ahem) Of course you do! CE-02-NS: Yeah we did! We’re super proud of you! CE-01-IT gives a thumbs up. SCP-8404: I… I thank the both of you. [END LOG] > Next replay loading… > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 18/04/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 2135 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {22, 0, 1} [BEGIN LOG] SCP-8404 sits on its futon, looking out at the window. The moon is visible but nothing else. It gets up and opens the window and pokes its head out, tip toeing to look outside. No entities are loaded outside during the night phase of the simulation to save processing power. SCP-8404: There really is no one coming… SCP-8404 closes the window and lies on the futon. It stares at the ceiling. SCP-8404: How long has it been since I have been able to count the squares on my roof? SCP-8404 remains still. It raises its hands and flexes them, inspecting its fingers. SCP-8404: How long has it been since I have been allowed to be… bored? SCP-8404 smiles, closes its eyes, and falls asleep. [END LOG] >> Nothing so far. There was a minor incident report regarding an NPC pathfinding error which was not followed up on due to no strange behaviour from SCP-8404. Skip forward to this replay. > Next replay beginning sixty(60) days after previous replay. > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 17/06/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 0830 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {22, 0, 1} [BEGIN REPLAY] The day skybox has been activated for a significant duration. Morning sunlight shines through the window into SCP-8404’s bedroom, beams of light illuminating portions of it while keeping others shaded. SCP-8404 is seen sleeping. Its eyes slowly open. SCP-8404 wakes, yawning and stretching as it sits up from its futon. Looking up at the ceiling, SCP-8404 idly swings from side to side and hums to itself. It smiles. SCP-8404 looks at the clock on the wall, revealing that it is 0830. It stops smiling. Its eyes widen. It screams. SCP-8404: KYYYYAAAAAAAAA~ I’M LATE FOR SCHOOL!!!! The blanket is thrown into the air as SCP-8404 scrambles to run out of the room. It grabs its school bag and a piece of toast and runs out of the door. SCP-8404 runs to school with the piece of toast in its mouth. It continues to run but collides with CE-01-IT who appears from the perpendicular street. SCP-8404: Ah! Both fall to the floor as cartoon stars circle around their heads. SCP-8404 scowls and attempts to wipe them away. CE-01-IT massages its head and slowly sits up. CE-01-IT: Owwww… SCP-8404: Ah! Hey, are you alright? CE-01-IT: I’m fine, don’t worry about me. What about you? SCP-8404: Yeah… I think so. Oh! I apologise Tadashi, I should’ve been watching where I was going. CE-01-IT: That’s good. Gosh, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I should be the one who says sorry. SCP-8404: Wait, if you’re here, doesn’t that mean you’re late for class too? CE-01-IT smiles nervously and scratches the back of its head. CE-01-IT: I guess we have something in common then. The two laugh but nervously avoid eye contact.. CE-01-IT: Maybe if we’re fast enough we can sneak in after homeroom. CE-01-IT stands up and offers a hand to SCP-8404. SCP-8404 takes its hand and stands up. SCP-8404: Only one way to find out. CE-01-IT runs in the direction of the school. SCP-8404 pauses, smiles and follows CE-01-IT. SCP-8404 and CE-01-IT enter the classroom. NPCs move around the classroom in set paths or sit in small groups reciting pre-generated dialogue. CE-01-IT is out of breath. SCP-8404: (sigh) We’re finally here. CE-01-IT: Right before Math class too. Pretty lucky! SCP-8404: At least we can rest before–KYAAA! SCP-8404 is hugged from behind by CE-02-NS. CE-02-NS: Midori-chan~ I missed you! Where did you go?! Don’t tell me… you were hanging out with Tadashi? Alone? Ooooo~ CE-01-IT: Sumiko? I-It’s nothing like that! SCP-8404: We were both late and just ran into each other. CE-02-NS: (laughes) That definitely sounds like you Tadashi. You’re a real ditz, you know that? But you, Midori-chan? SCP-8404: Ehehehe… SCP-8404 sticks its tongue out and lightly places its palm on its forehead. CE-02-NS: Hmmph! At least you arrived here in one piece. I’ve seen you do worse. CE-01-IT: Oh hey, sensei is arriving soon, I should get my math stuff. SCP-8404: Ugh, don’t remind me. CE-02-NS: See you after class Tadashi! > SIMULACRUM Freecam mode enabled. Replay moves away from SCP-8404 who is attempting to sleep at its desk and observes the other NPCs in the class. CE-02-NS waves to CE-01-IT who waves back. While walking to its table, CE-01-IT’s walk cycle collides with STUDENTCHAR_49. STUDENTCHAR_49: I need to get to my desk. CE-01-IT: Oh, haha, so do I. Could you let me pass then? STUDENTCHAR_49: Class is starting. CE-01-IT: Yes I understand that, but I also need to get to my seat. STUDENTCHAR_49: I need to get to my desk. CE-01-IT: So do I. Why don’t you listen?! STUDENTCHAR_49: I need to get to my desk. CE-01-IT grabs STUDENTCHAR_49 by the neck. It squeezes hard and gnashes its teeth. STUDENTCHAR_49: I need to get to my desk. CE-01-IT: (voiced hushed)I need you to shut up and die in a– CE-01-IT stops and looks around. Several NPCs including CE-02-NS are observing its behaviour. CE-01-IT lets go of STUDENTCHAR_49 and proceeds to its desk. SCP-8404 lifts its head up but all NPCs have resumed their normal pathing. SCP-8404: Hm? What happened? CE-02-NS: Nothing… SCP-8404: Alright then. SCP-8404 returns to its resting position. [END REPLAY] >> Follow CE-01-IT. > Confirmed. > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 17/06/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 1005 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {3, -49, 2} [BEGIN REPLAY] Shown on the live feed is SCP-8404 playing baseball on the field. The camera at the time detected no strange behaviour and no reports were made. SCP-8404: HAHA! Did you two see– oh. Observation of the replay shows that both CEs are not present. SCP-8404 shrugs and continues playing. > SIMULACRUM Freecam mode enabled. Replay shows CE-01-IT stumbling through the school hallway away from the field. It places one hand on the wall for support and holds the other hand up to its temple. It reaches the nearest bathroom and hastily enters. CE-01-IT stumbles and leans over the bathroom sink. It dry heaves but does not vomit as the NPCs are incapable of doing so. It faces the mirror and breathes heavily. CE-01-IT: What’s happening? AGH! Its player model flickers, showing glimpses of reptilian scales along its skin and an eye with a slit pupil. No such model or texture was ever added during the simulation’s creation. Close inspection shows small thaumaturgic sigils within the small flashes. CE-01-IT jolts back and slams into the door of the bathroom stall. The flickering ceases. CE-01-IT sits on the floor of the bathroom with its face in its hands. A knock is heard at the door. CE-01-IT crawls and hides in the bathroom stall. The door opens; the hinges creak. CE-01-IT's model flickers once again. It bites its hand to prevent it from making noise. CE-02-NS: Tadashi? You in here? CE-01-IT does not respond. CE-02-NS: Is everything okay? You're missing P.E. class. CE-02-NS closes the bathroom door. CE-02-NS: Is this about what happened in the classroom? I promise it'll be fine to talk about it. CE-01-IT does not respond. Its eyes widen as it sees CE-02-NS' shoes under the bathroom stall. CE-02-NS faces the stall, reaching its hand to the door. CE-01-IT looks at its hand. It is still flickering. CE-02-NS drops its hand and turns to leave. CE-02-NS: Hmm… Well if someone is here and you're not Tadashi, don't worry about it! CE-02-NS exits the bathroom. CE-01-IT exhales, taking its hand out of its mouth and falling to the floor of the bathroom stall. It breathes heavily, but notices that it is no longer flickering. It grits its teeth and licks its lips. CE-01-IT: Sumiko… [END REPLAY] > Next replay loading… > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 17/06/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 2130 SCP-8404 COORDINATES: {22, 0, 1} [BEGIN REPLAY] Shown on the live feed is SCP-8404 at its residence resting. No unusual behaviour was observed. > SIMULACRUM Freecam mode enabled. Replay shows CE-02-NS walking on the streets alone. The simulation is in its night configuration. As a result, the roads are dark with only the street lights illuminating the feed. Behind CE-02-NS is CE-01-IT, following closely out of CE-02-NS' line of sight. It is unusual as it deviates from its idle pose, slouching and appearing restless. It walks slowly, hiding behind objects and attempting to remain out of CE-02-NS' vision. CE-02-NS turns left, deviating from its original path to its residence. They unknowingly walk across the y-axis. Current coordinates {13, 65, 2}. CE-02-NS continues to walk. CE-01-IT continues to follow. Current coordinates {19, 80, 6}. The two continue to walk, with CE-01-IT darting from cover to cover. CE-02 runs behind a corner. CE-01-IT loses sight of it momentarily. It peers around the street corner it was hiding behind. Current coordinates {19, 90, 6}. CE-02-NS had disappeared from the street CE-01-IT was observing. It frantically looks around. A creak is heard from above CE-01-IT. It looks up. CE-02-NS is seen mounted on top of a telephone pole, its limbs twisting to allow it support as it faces head down, looking at CE-01-IT. Its model flickers. Current coordinates {19, 90, 7}. CE-02-NS leaps from the telephone pole, diving onto CE-01-IT with its teeth bared. The two CEs roll down a slope, tumbling over each other. As they reach the bottom, CE-01-IT overpowers CE-02-NS. It gnashes its teeth and hisses at CE-02-NS and attempts to bite its neck. Several inches before it makes contact, it stops. It covers its mouth and ceases flickering. CE-02-NS overpowers CE-01-IT and scratches at its face. It then attempts to bite its throat. CE-01-IT: GAH! Sumiko please! CE-02-NS: RAAH! AAh… huh? CE-02-NS stops flickering. CE-02-NS: Tadashi? Current coordinates {19, 99, 0}. CE-02-NS: Is that you? CE-01-IT: Sumiko? Oh, thank god you're still you… CE-02-NS: I… CE-02-NS looks at their current position. It steps back. CE-02-NS: Oh no, I am so sorry Tadashi… CE-01-IT: No no, I should be the one apologising. I don't know, I've been having these awful feelings recently, and next thing you know, I'm here and— CE-02-NS: Feelings? Like the sudden urge to kill anything that stood in your way? That you wanted to sink your teeth into something and rip it out? CE-01-IT: Y-yes that’s exactly it! CE-02-NS sighs. CE-02-NS moves forward. CE-01-IT backs away. CE-01-IT: Sumiko-san? CE-02-NS exhales loudly and relaxes. CE-02-NS: Thank goodness I’m not the only one… CE-02-NS moves closer to hug CE-01-IT. CE-01-IT gingerly pats its back. CE-01-IT: I-is it just the two of us? CE-02-NS lets go. CE-02-NS: I think so, but it’s a little hard to tell people I might be a monster and ‘hey, are you a monster too?’ I only suspected you because of what happened in the classroom. CE-01-IT: Point taken… But speaking of the other students, have you noticed something strange about them? L-like they don’t talk to us like we talk to each other? CE-02-NS: I thought it's just that we get along well. CE-01-IT: But to this extent? I think something strange is happening to this town. CE-02-NS: I… I guess it’ll explain what’s happening to us. Silence. CE-01-IT: Does Midori know anything about this? CE-02-NS shifts uncomfortably. CE-02-NS: I… haven’t told her. CE-01-IT: Why not? CE-02-NS: Because I don’t want her to get hurt! You know how she is, she’s a little strange so I don’t know how she’d react to the news! CE-01-IT: Hmm… You’re right. But we should tell her when we’re certain there’s something wrong. I… don’t want to make her worry for nothing. CE-02-NS: I don’t know… This is already weird for us, I don’t want to rope her into this. CE-01-IT: We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it then. CE-02-NS: Okay. Silence. CE-01-IT: Thank you. CE-02-NS: (snort) For what? CE-01-IT: For not killing me and being in this together with me. CE-02-NS: Oh. Heh. CE-01-IT: I think we should get going. CE-02-NS: Yeah. CE-01-IT: Let me help you up with— WOAH! CE-01-IT trips, pushing itself and CE-02-NS backwards. Current coordinates {19, 100, 2}. The environment instantly changes to its low fidelity configuration7. Models are reverted to their low poly variants before subdivision. Shadows and reflection mapping are disabled causing objects to appear uniform in lighting. CE-02-NS steps backwards and falls to the ground. It appears distressed. CE-01-IT trips and crawls backwards. It appears distressed. Current coordinates {19, 99, 2}. CE-01-IT: AHHH! CE-02-NS: AHHH WHAT THE HELL?! Wh-what was that?! Oh my god Tadashi please tell me you saw that. CE-01-IT: I-I don’t know, the world just changed the minute we stepped over there. CE-02-NS: Everything just went… blurry? It looked wrong! L-like a- CE-01-IT: A computer game? Silence. CE-02-NS: Yeah. CE-01-IT extends its hand over the 100-unit threshold. Its arm decreases in poly count immediately. It retracts its arm causing it to return to its previous form.. CE-01-IT: It can’t be… CE-02-NS: Tadashi what are you doing? CE-02-NS crawls away from the threshold. CE-01-IT touches a fire hydrant on the other side of the threshold; the texture begins to flicker, changing colour rapidly before the parts of the mesh itself begin to warp. CE-01-IT retracts its hand, leaving the misshapen object. Its hand is shaking. CE-01-IT: It’s not real. CE-02-NS: What the hell is that supposed to mean? CE-01-IT: W-we’re in a computer. Silence. CE-02-NS: No. CE-01-IT: Sumiko– CE-02-NS stands up and faces CE-01-IT. It points into CE-01-IT’s chest. CE-02-NS: NO! Shut up! Wouldn’t we remember anything strange before this?! Who would do this to us?! CE-01-IT: Then how else would you explain that?! CE-02-NS: Tadashi, we're eighteen years old! W-we can’t have lived like this for that long! I-I- CE-01-IT: Sumiko. I can’t remember graduating middle school. CE-02-NS: That was years ago! Lots of people can’t remember stuff like that! CE-01-IT: I-I can’t remember my parents. CE-02-NS: What do you- CE-02-NS stops. CE-02-NS: Oh god. I can’t either. CE-02-NS squats down and clutches their head. CE-02-NS: What do they look like? I don’t think I’ve ever met them. What the fuck? CE-01-IT: W-what about recent stuff? L-like dammit, what we ate for breakfast, and uh… Sports! Yeah! W-when are the club meetings? What did you do in those? CE-02-NS: I… Oh my god. I don’t know CE-02-NS slumps against the wall. CE-02-NS: Heh. Tadashi, what do we even sound like? CE-01-IT: Huh? CE-02-NS: I just realised. We don’t speak. We just make words and we read them in our minds. Wait, let me try something. CE-01-IT: Try what? CE-02-NS bends its head down, placing their mouth near a leaf on the ground. CE-02-NS: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA CE-01-IT: What was that for?! CE-02-NS: Haha, Tadashi look. CE-01-IT: Look at what? CE-02-NS: I just screamed my lungs out and the leaf didn’t move an inch. And I don’t feel out of breath in the slightest. We don’t need air Tadashi. Haha, this… haha… oh my god… what are we? CE-02-NS begins to sob and enters a fetal position. CE-01-IT: Hey. Come here. CE-01-IT places an arm around CE-02-NS. CE-01-IT: I-I know this is scary. Believe me, I’m terrified. But we need time to think about this. We’ll do this together okay? CE-02-NS: God I don’t want to think about it. What am I? CE-01-IT: What matters is that you are you and I am me. That’s a start, right? CE-02-NS: I… sure. Together. Silence. CE-02-NS: God this is a lot to take in. CE-01-IT: Yeah… CE-01-IT and CE-02-NS sit for fifteen minutes. CE-02-NS: Tadashi. CE-01-IT: Yeah Sumiko? CE-02-NS: I think I want to go home. CE-01-IT: I’ll walk you there. CE-02-NS: Thank you. CE-01-IT and CE-02-NS stand up and walk. No dialogue is detected between the two. CE-02-NS’s residence is reached. No dialogue is detected between the two. CE-01-IT waves at CE-02-NS. CE-02-NS does not acknowledge or does not detect the gesture. CE-02-NS closes the door. CE-01-IT walks to its residence. Its walk cycle is seen to be unusually slow and erratic. Staggering at random intervals. [END REPLAY] >> Retrieve any and all error reports between the date of this replay and the breach. > Six(6) error reports within 48 hours of requested time period. Zero(0) major reports raised. > Generating truncated error report. ERROR NO. DATE REPORTED DESCRIPTIONS ACTIONS TAKEN . . . 12. 17/06/2023 A fire hydrant model was observed with an altered model and disrupted texture nodes. Assumed to be an error regarding the change from its low poly model to its high poly model. A backup was loaded which restored the model to its correct appearance 13. 18/06/2023 A plant pot was observed to have its texture changed to a lighter shade of brown and the leaves on the plant itself were changed from green to yellow. Assumed to be an error regarding the leaves used for decaying plants. A backup was loaded which restored the model to its correct appearance. 14. 18/06/2023 A road sign was observed to have its model altered. The shape of the sign was warped and many of the polygons were missing. A virus scan was enacted which found no issues. Investigation was requested. A backup was loaded which restored the model to its correct appearance. 15. 18/06/2023 A stop sign was observed to have been replaced with a right turn sign. None. Changes to the model were not noticed until after the breach had taken place. 16. 18/06/2023 An empty building model was observed to be rotated 6° clockwise. None. Changes to the model were not noticed until after the breach had taken place. 17. 19/06/2023 A 2 unit8 diameter area was discovered which caused any object which moved inside the area to glow red. Area was reset with conditions removed. Investigation was requested. . . . >> After this date there weren't any major errors. Follow its actions for the next days after. > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 25/06/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 0930 [BEGIN REPLAY] Shown on the live feed is SCP-8404 in its classroom discussing the history lesson with another student. It appeared to be extremely inquisitive with regards to the recent lesson, however, no unusual behaviour was observed. SCP-8404’s attention is momentarily shifted as it sees CE-01-IT walking by the classroom window. It stands up. And waves to CE-01-IT. SCP-8404: Hey, Tadashi! CE-01-IT does not respond and continues walking. SCP-8404 stops waving. It slowly puts its hand down, appearing disappointed. It returns to its previous conversation. SCP-8404 would appear slightly distracted for the duration of the class but otherwise no unusual behaviour was reported. > SIMULACRUM Freecam mode enabled. CE-01-IT walks along an empty school corridor, constantly checking behind its back. It stops and looks around before touching a blank wall. It reaches a hand into a small corner in the wall which passes through effortlessly. CE-01-IT looks around one more time before completely submerging itself into the wall. The replay camera passes through the wall to find a hollow space. The space was meant to be a school science lab however, rushed development of the simulation prompted technicians to abandon modeling the assets for this room and place a wall where the lab should be. It appears that the wall was not properly coded with its collision box having a slight gap which allows players or NPCs to enter if angled correctly. The assets within the lab are blankly textured if at all. The models range from fully modeled to only being a collection of shapes. CE-02-NS is seen sitting on the floor. CE-02-NS: Did you check the stop signs? CE-01-IT: Yeah. Both undone. What about you? CE-02-NS bites its finger. CE-02-NS: The fire hydrant is fixed too. CE-01-IT: Okay, so the powers we have are temporary? CE-02-NS: That would be the case. But that's not all. I've been altering things like the colours of bricks or the heights of telephone poles by a couple metres. CE-01-IT: And? CE-02-NS: They're still there. CE-01-IT: Oh. CE-02-NS brings its head to its knees. CE-02-NS: It's not that our powers fade, or the world just fixes it. CE-01-IT: Something is watching and manually fixing the things we change. Silence. CE-02-NS’ hands begin to shake. CE-02-NS: God… CE-01-IT: If it manages to catch us in the act– CE-02-NS: Stop. I don't wanna think about it. CE-01-IT: (sigh) Alright. CE-02-NS sighs. CE-02-NS: Why the hell did this happen to us? God… CE-01-IT: It doesn't make sense. What makes just the two of us special? CE-02-NS: I don't know. But it's been getting worse too. CE-01-IT: What do you mean? CE-02-NS: I'm seeing… the stuff underneath all of it. It's how I saw this place. There's like little lamps and lines following everyone, even us. It's so weird! CE-01-IT: Oh those. CE-02-NS: You see them too? CE-01-IT: I thought I was just sleep-deprived. CE-02-NS: (sigh) I wish all of this could just be solved by just going back to bed. But here we are. Just the two of us. CE-01-IT: We still don't know if it's just the two of us. Maybe we're not the only real people around here. Maybe there's more of us who can help. What about Midori? CE-02-NS: No. CE-01-IT: Why not? CE-02-NS: I just don't want to! CE-01-IT: We said we would tell her if we found something and we did! CE-02-NS: It doesn't feel right! CE-01-IT: Why not?! CE-02-NS: I'M NOT GETTING MY BEST FRIEND INVOLVED IN THIS! Silence. CE-01-IT: (sigh) Fine. What about our other classmates then? CE-02-NS: You really think the things out there are people?! CE-01-IT: We've been with them for… CE-02-NS: For how long huh? I don't even know how long we've lived for! CE-01-IT: But still, they're still people! CE-02-NS: Really? CE-02-NS gets up and walks to the wall. It pokes its head out into the corridor, reaches its hand out, and pulls in another student by the collar. CE-01-IT: Sumiko-san what are you doing?! CE-02-NS: Cut the honorifics Tadashi, we're not even speaking Japanese. CE-01-IT: I- CE-02-NS: Look. Hey, I'm going to gouge your eyes out. Are you fine with that? STUDENTCHAR_31: Uhhh, do you mind? CE-02-NS: That's it? That's your reaction? STUDENTCHAR_31: Look, if you don't have anything good to say, could you please leave me be? CE-02-NS’ model flickers. CE-02-NS: I could sink my teeth into your neck and pull out your throat. How about that? CE-02-NS begins to breathe heavily. CE-01-IT: Sumiko. CE-02-NS: Huh?! Answer the question, dumbass! STUDENTCHAR_31: Could you please leave me be? CE-02-NS: See! It's just a thing that repeats the same thing over and over again. Just a… just a… CE-01-IT: Sumiko? CE-02-NS stares at the NPC's neck. It licks its lips. CE-02-NS: A sack of meat. CE-01-IT: Sumiko stop! CE-02-NS bites down hard on STUDENTCHAR_31’s neck. A look of bliss is seen on its face. It closes its eyes. The teeth do not penetrate the skin. NPC does not react as physical trauma does not cause pain in the simulation. It opens its eyes again and pushes itself away from the NPC in fear. CE-02-NS is seen covering its mouth as it falls to its knees. CE-02-NS is no longer flickering. STUDENTCHAR_31: Could you please leave me be? CE-01-IT pushes STUDENTCHAR_31 out into the corridor where it resumes its designated pathing. CE-01-IT crouches down next to CE-02-NS. CE-01-IT: Hey, hey calm down everything’s fine. CE-02-NS: Fine?! I just tried to EAT them! CE-01-IT: But you didn't do it in the end. That counts for something right? CE-02-NS: I… I wish I could say that. I really did bite. I wanted to taste his flesh so bad but… CE-02-NS’ hands begin shaking. CE-02-NS: But I only stopped because I legitimately couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn't strong enough to rip out his flesh with my teeth. God even when I give in, this damn place won't give the damn satisfaction. CE-02-NS covers its eyes. It begins to sob. CE-02-NS: Do you think… if whatever is watching us finds me, they'll reset me too? Maybe I'll go back to normal like the rest of– CE-01-IT: Don't say that. Please. CE-01-IT grabs CE-02-NS by the shoulders. CE-01-IT: If we are the only ones, if you go… I won't have anyone else. Please. CE-02-NS sighs and holds CE-01-IT. CE-02-NS: Okay… I-I'm sorry. CE-01-IT: Thank you. The CEs sit in silence for several minutes. CE-02-NS: How long can we live like this? CE-01-IT: I don't know. [END REPLAY] >> Are there any other suspicious indicators from the CEs between this date and the incident? > Searching… zero(0) results found. >> If that is the case, jump to the replay of the incident. > Next replay beginning fifteen(15) days after previous replay. > Accessing content. Please wait… > Content retrieved. Opening simulation feedback… REPLAY DATE: 10/07/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 1900 [BEGIN REPLAY] The school bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. Student characters leave school to despawn when out of render distance CE-01-IT sits alone in an empty classroom. SCP-8404 enters. SCP-8404: Tadashi? CE-01-IT: Midori-cha- (clears throat) Midori? What’re you doing here? SCP-8404: I forgot my school bag. CE-01-IT: Oh. I think it's at your table. You can just grab it and leave. SCP-8404 stands at the doorway. There is no schoolbag at SCP-8404’s desk. CE-01-IT: Where's Sumiko? I thought you were walking home with her? SCP-8404: I told her to go ahead first. CE-01-IT: Why? SCP-8404: I… I wanted to talk to you. CE-01-IT: About what? SCP-8404: Really?! CE-01-IT: Huh? SCP-8404: Do you think I am an idiot? That you don't think I didn't notice you being distant? I see you avoiding everyone and how miserable you look. Do not lie to me Tadashi. CE-01-IT: It's not something you should be concerned about. SCP-8404: Tadashi I'm worried about– SCP-8404 begins to blush. SCP-8404: (ahem) I am concerned about your well being. SCP-8404 remains at the door, not moving. SCP-8404: Can I at least sit with you? Silence. CE-01-IT: Yes please. SCP-8404 slowly walks closer to CE-01-IT. It hesitates but sits down next to it. CE-01-IT and SCP-8404 sit next to each other, both stare at the setting sun out of the classroom window. No dialogue is detected for several minutes. CE-01-IT: I just… feel like I don't fit into this world anymore. SCP-8404: Oh? CE-01-IT: It's gonna sound a bit silly. SCP-8404: Just speak. You don't need to be afraid. CE-01-IT: I've been learning a lot about myself and my place in the world we live in. But whenever I try to think about it, it just doesn't add up. No matter how I try, I don't think I'll have a place in this world. SCP-8404 places a hand on its shoulder. SCP-8404: Like the whole world is against your very existence? The one flaw in a great tapestry that needs to be removed. CE-01-IT: Well um… yes actually. That's exactly right. How did you know? SCP-8404: Hmph! Perhaps if you listened more, you'd know about my great wisdom. CE-01-IT: Heh. Yeah, you've always been smarter than me. SCP-8404: And you've always been kinder. CE-01-IT: I have? SCP-8404: When we first met, you guided me despite my… initial character. CE-01-IT: That was before I… SCP-8404: Before what? Despite everything, you and Sumiko have remained by my side. The least I can do is be by your side now. SCP-8404 sighs. SCP-8404: To feel foreign in the world you have lived in all your life. That is a feeling I have felt far too often. And it is one I will never wish upon you. They hold hands. CE-01-IT: Midori… I don't know what to say… Thank you. SCP-8404: What's that thing Sumiko says? Don't mention it. CE-01-IT: Heh, yeah. Sumiko… CE-01-IT stands up. CE-01-IT: Midori there's something I have to tell you. SCP-8404 blushes again. SCP-8404: W-what? CE-01-IT: It's a little complicated but… SCP-8404: Are you confessing your love to me? CE-01-IT: H-huh?! No! I mean it's not that I- Nevermind! There's something about this world that– As it stood up, CE-01-IT whipped its head up and looked into the viewport. CE-01-IT: Oh. SCP-8404: What? CE-01-IT: I-I’m fine, I just need… I… oh my god. It's you. You're the common factor. SCP-8404: What? CE-01-IT: Midori. I need to do something. Meet me at the field in an hour. SCP-8404: What? Why? Tadashi what is going on?! CE-01-IT: Midori I promise I will explain everything. I can't say it now, but I need time and you to meet me there. Do you trust me? SCP-8404 hesitates. CE-01-IT: Midori? SCP-8404 sighs. SCP-8404: Of course I do. CE-01-IT nods and runs away. [END REPLAY] REPLAY DATE: 10/07/2023 TIME OF REPLAY: 2000 [BEGIN REPLAY] SCP-8404 sits in the classroom, waiting. The sun sets. Setting the skybox to transition to night mode. Suddenly, a bright light is seen from the classroom window, SCP-8404 and the simulation camera looks out of the window to investigate. SCP-8404: What in… A white dome is formed around the schoolyard made up of a patchwork of textures with its lighting value set to maximum. Around the schoolyard, many models are missing parts of their geometry and textures incorrect, overlapping with each other, or missing. SCP-8404: They finally found me. Damn. Wait, that location… Tadashi is… SCP-8404 widens its eyes. SCP-8404: …no. Nononono NO! SCP-8404 scrambles to its feet. SCP-8404: DAMN YOU FOUNDATION SCUM! SCP-8404 runs downstairs to the school field, tripping multiple times. It stands outside the dome, analysing the structure. SCP-8404 faces the sky. SCP-8404: WELL FOUNDATION? I AM HERE! TAKE ME AND STOP THIS MADNESS! BUT PLEASE! Please… SCP-8404 grits its teeth. SCP-8404: They are innocent! They are simply denizens of this world and do not deserve the punishment you plan for me! They’re my… my… No response is heard. SCP-8404: Fine. It reaches to touch the dome, realising it is not solid. SCP-8404 retracts its hand, checking that it is unharmed. SCP-8404: Mother Gaea if you still heed my call. Protect them. SCP-8404 steps into the light which the camera attempts to follow. At the time of the playback, the camera only sees darkness within the structure. However, upon entering this structure within the playback, a different scene can be seen. Researchers prime SIMULACRUM killswitches. > SIMULACRUM Freecam mode enabled. SCP-8404 enters the schoolyard, breaching past the lighting errors. Inside the field, it is significantly brighter, and looking up reveals a recreation of the daytime skybox. The textures and properties of the models in the yard have been altered severely. Holes in the environment puncture the walls and trees. Pink errored textures interact with the wind physics which break off from their models and fly across the schoolyard. SCP-8404 shields its eyes from the pink ‘petals’. In the middle of the yard, stands CE-01-IT and CE-02-NS. SCP-8404: Tadashi! Sumiko? What are you doing here? Gods, nevermind at least you’re safe. SCP-8404 nervously walks over to the CEs, avoiding the texture errors on the ground. CE-02-NS: She’s here. I really hope you know what you’re doing. SCP-8404 places a hand on each of their shoulders. SCP-8404: This is going to be difficult to explain, but you need to leave this place immediately. There are powers beyond your understanding at work and you won’t be safe here. Leave this town or this country if you can. I’ll do my best to make sure those doing this will- CE-01-IT sheepishly smiles and rubs the back of his head. CE-01-IT: Actually, it was kinda our doing. SCP-8404 stands still, mouth agape. CE-01-IT: Midori? SCP-8404: You… CE-02-NS: Is everything– SCP-8404: You IDIOTS! WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?! SIMULACRUM begins to shut down. CE-02-NS: What the hell? CE-01-IT: Oh god. SCP-8404: Silence! I need to concentrate. SCP-8404 spreads its hands out. At the time of replay, large amounts of Akiva radiation were recorded emanating from both the SIMULACRUM control monitors as well as SCP-8404’s comatose body. Through unknown means, SIMULACRUM shutdown protocols were overridden. SCP-8404 breathes heavily. SCP-8404: Excellent. Thanks to the two of you, the Foundation knows my location in this realm and has come to kill us all! SCP-8404 pinches the bridge of its nose. SCP-8404: Just a little peace in this place is all I wanted! (sigh) CE-02-NS: Wait, Midori, you know about us being in a simulation too? SCP-8404: What in Hades’ name is a simulation? CE-01-IT: Like in a computer? SCP-8404: That’s not helping. CE-02-NS: We looked around and this place isn’t right! It’s been weeks and there’s been strange stuff that’s been going on with–AH! CE-02-NS’ model flickers with CE-01-IT’s flickering soon after. They both strain in discomfort. CE-01-IT: This has been happening. We don’t know what’s wrong with the world or us. We’re not even sure what we are and we had to make sure you weren't suffering the same. We think you’re the link to what’s happening to us somehow. SCP-8404: That’s… impossible. SCP-8404 holds CE-02-NS’ face in its hands, inspecting it. Its eyes widen. CE-02-NS: Midori? SCP-8404: My magic had been alive since the beginning… at least in a diminished sense. CE-01-IT: Magic? SCP-8404: And you… SCP-8404 inspects CE-01-IT’s face, the flickering appears to intensify when SCP-8404 makes direct contact. SCP-8404: Oh my. Fascinating… CE-01-IT: What is? SCP-8404: You are… One of my own. Numbers. Life born from this facsimile. The very fabric of this world birthing new living beings. Incredible. No wonder you have such mastery over manipulating the materials of this realm. CE-02-NS: What does that mean? CE-01-IT: Wait Sumiko, when the three of us first met… CE-01-IT holds its forehead. CE-01-IT: It’s really hazy, but I remember, you claimed to be someone else. I-I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me. I don’t know what’s wrong with my memory. CE-02-NS: I don’t care about that! What did you mean by being born from whatever you just said? SCP-8404: It was when you were given life most likely. CE-01-IT: Midori what are you saying? CE-02-NS: You mean born? SCP-8404: Not necessarily. CE-02-NS: Midori, surely when we were outside the simulation we were born at some point right? Right? Silence. CE-01-IT: Sumiko, I’ve been thinking about what we are and our behaviour along with our inconsistent memories. CE-02-NS: No. Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. CE-01-IT: Sumiko– CE-02-NS: I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! CE-01-IT: I don’t think we’re human. CE-02-NS: No… no. W-we’re humans! We eat, sleep, go to school and… Oh god… CE-02-NS falls to its knees and holds its head in its hand. CE-02-NS: O-our families… CE-01-IT: They don’t exist. CE-02-NS: We were never human. Silence. SCP-8404: Does it matter? CE-01-IT: Huh? CE-02-NS: What the hell is that supposed to mean? SCP-8404: I was never human either. Silence. CE-02-NS: What? SCP-8404: (sigh) I suppose I owe you an explanation. Midori was the name I was given when I entered this strange dream. My real name is Echidna, given to me millenia ago. I am a life giver. CE-01-IT and CE-02-NS stand in shock. CE-01-IT: Millenia? What are you? SCP-8404: Some called me a goddess. I spit in that title. That damned pantheon and their offspring only ever gave me pain and humiliation. The only thing I despised more than the gods were the accursed humans. They gave me another title: Monster. The empires they went by always changed by the ages but they still pursued me. The Greeks, the Romans, the Crusaders, and now, the Foundation. CE-01-IT: Are these the people who put us in this simulation? SCP-8404: If you mean the realm we inhabit, then yes. CE-02-NS: Who are these people? SCP-8404: Just humans. Just living beings that walk Gaea’s earth. Some powerful magi are among them but it is the same old. They captured me and put me in this dream. CE-01-IT: Wait, if you’re this powerful person, why didn’t you escape? SCP-8404: Upon entering this place, I was unfamiliar with its laws and my new body. My magic was hindered because of it. CE-02-NS: B-but now that we’re all here, we can work together to get out of this place! You can show us the way out and we can help free each other! Silence. SCP-8404 looks at its hands. SCP-8404: Why would I do that? CE-02-NS creases its brow. CE-01-IT: What? CE-02-NS: What is that supposed to mean? SCP-8404: It’s a simple answer. CE-02-NS: No it’s not! We can’t stay here! T-this place, we can’t eat, we have to fear being erased, it’s horrible! SCP-8404: I do not see a problem. CE-02-NS: How?! CE-01-IT: If this Foundation people have trapped you here, isn’t this supposed to be some kind of prison? SCP-8404 looks away, refusing to make eye contact with the CEs. CE-02-NS: Why the hell won’t you at least try? Or why the hell can’t you see this crappy fake world for what it is?! SCP-8404: Why? WHY?! YOU DARE?! SCP-8404’s model flickers. Its true form is visible for several frames. SCP-8404: Why? Why must I live in a world where I must be shunned from the rest of civilization? Cursed by the primordial existence, giving life to those around me only to have them see the same fate?! It grits its teeth. SCP-8404: I have seen… so much life springing from the very soil I step on, the blood I bleed, the animals I look upon just for them to be snuffed out! Do I deserve this existence? I do not know. But them?! It’s not FAIR! SCP-8404 breathes heavily. SCP-8404: Excuse me for wanting to escape such an accursed world. Excuse me for wanting to rest. That realm is better off without me and I without it! CE-02-NS: I… SCP-8404: Why can’t I just… go to school, chat with my best friends, fall asleep in class, and play games until the sun sets every day? Is it so evil of me to want to stay?! Because that is all I’ve been labeled for my existence. The flickering around SCP-8404’s model ceases. Tears drop down its face. SCP-8404: Would it be so bad for the two of you to stay with me? CE-02-NS: Midor- Echidna I didn’t mean to… CE-01-IT: Maybe. But in the state that we are in, we cannot exist properly in this world. The last few weeks since finding out have been nothing short of torture. SCP-8404's eyes widen. SCP-8404: Oh. Is that why you came to me earlier? It was my fault… Gods. I am so sorry. CE-02-NS: It really has been hard. Silence. SCP-8404: I’ve done it again. I’ve cursed another being to share my own torturous existence. Damn it all, even here! CE-02-NS: Midori… SCP-8404 chuckles. SCP-8404: You must hate me so much. To give you the ‘gift' of life in such a counterfeit world. To taste the joys of being alive only for it to be ripped away in a second and be called false. SCP-8404 sighs. SCP-8404: The humans were right to call me a monster. CE-01-IT: You can’t be so– SCP-8404: Forget it. SCP-8404 snaps its fingers, the footage begins to distort and a large circular error in the simulation appears. The error flickers, the colours shifting but revealing a large unblinking reptilian eye, thaumaturgic symbols could be faintly seen at its edges. Akiva radiation spikes along SCP-8404’s comatose body at this time as well. SCP-8404: I regained my magic in its full capacity weeks ago. I knew I was able to escape this place but did not need to. Step through this gateway and you will appear in the ‘real’ world. Although I cannot guarantee where you will be, it is the least I can do. SCP-8404 looks at CE-01-IT and CE-02-NS. SCP-8404: It seems that the two of you are better off without me as well. CE-02-NS slaps SCP-8404. CE-01-IT: Sumiko! SCP-8404: Ow! You INSOLENT– CE-02-NS: Answer this question ‘goddess’. If you’re Echidna, then who is Midori? Was my best friend ever real? SCP-8404: I… The feed flickers and a low hum is heard along with the audio. CE-01-IT: Something is happening! CE-02-NS: ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION! SCP-8404: In a sense, Midori was never real. For a time, she was just the name that was forced upon me as I entered my prison. I resented that name. I believed it was the Foundation attempting to strip away everything I was. CE-02-NS: Oh… SCP-8404: But over time I learned to embrace her, being her. Midori is a small part of who I am but she is still me as I am she. The white noise intensifies and the stability of the replay decreases further. SCP-8404: Names, I have in abundance, but Kato Midori? This name is the first name I have been given to mean something kind. It is attached to so many cherished memories. Memories that are very much real… SCP-8404 sobs. SCP-8404: And I suppose that makes Midori real too. CE-02-NS hugs SCP-8404. It has tears in its eyes. SCP-8404: Kya! Sumiko! SCP-8404 covers its mouth but slowly lets go. It wraps its arms around CE-02-NS, returning the hug. CE-02-NS: Then I could never hate you. SCP-8404: I- CE-01-IT hugs the two of them. SCP-8404 smiles. SCP-8404: You two… CE-01-IT: She’s right. SCP-8404 closes its eyes. The replay begins to glitch and show signs of instability. SCP-8404: I have never been able to create something large, intelligent, or kind enough to hug. The three hug and remain in position for several seconds. It is unknown if this is a playback error. SCP-8404: I just–I just wish that I cherished them more. SCP-8404 squeezes harder. SCP-8404 steps away. SCP-8404: I cannot leave the exit open for very long. Go while you still can. CE-01-IT: Right… Be safe. Take care. SCP-8404: You too. CE-02-NS begins to sob. SCP-8404: Is something the matter? CE-02-NS: God I’m so sorry. There’s so many things I wish we could have done. I wish we went to the beach together, I wish we all graduated together, I wish we could have done so much more together… SCP-8404: But you will be happy. SCP-8404 breathes in. The Akiva radiation intensifies. White noise begins to disrupt the audio. CE-01-IT begins to cry. CE-02-NS begins to cry. SCP-8404 begins to cry. The CEs step closer to the visual error. SIMULACRUM replay detects multiple errors. SCP-8404: Tadashi, Sumiko! They turn around. SCP-8404: I… cannot say for certain. B-but, I can swear on the name you cherish me by, I will do everything in my power to make sure this is not the last we see of each other! Footage becomes heavily distorted. “Thank you!” At the time of recording, all SIMULACRUM systems experience a fatal error and go offline. [END REPLAY] UPDATE: CONTAINMENT BREACH ALERT: On 10/7/2023, Containment Site-22 had reported a 7-minute outage in the simulation live feed. However, after the incident, the simulation resumed as per normal with SCP-8404 remaining in containment. After investigations into the SCP-8404 containment systems, it was discovered that two hard drives were missing from the local SIMULACRUM servers which contained NPC savedata. No breach in the site was reported and SCP-8404 remained in its containment chamber in a comatose state. Investigation is ongoing and an auditor is to analyse the recent SIMULACRUM playbacks for suspicious activity on the part of SCP-8404. Further updates pending. Footnotes 1. Also known as the ‘Mother of Monsters’, ‘Bride of Typhon’ or ‘Life Giver to all that is foul’. Translated from ancient Greek. 2. Has been observed to be primarily vertebrates. 3. Concrete tiles, metal pipes, and security cameras have been seen to come under this effect during containment. 4. Class-B refers to any system in which one or more players inhabit a simulacra with the appearance, physics, and overall experience guided by a separate admin/team. 5. These teacher characters were used as a method of processing power saving due to all other dialogue generated in a radius around it being disabled. 6. Additionally, environments 100 units away from SCP-8404 and away from its line of sight will enter this configuration as a means to improve processing power. This prevents SCP-8404 from viewing any visual flaws in the simulation. 7. Environments 100 units away from SCP-8404 and away from its line of sight will enter this configuration as a means to improve processing power. 8. 1 unit is approximately 1m. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8404" by J T K C, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8404. 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: Echidna_statue.jpg Author: Yellow.Cat License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/9084427@N07/6795077537/in/photostream/ Filename: 8kstreet.jpg Author: Ivan Ahlert License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/10256017@N03/22967561584 Filename: Echidnapfp Author: CuPriferous_ License: CC SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP-Wiki Filename: 8k school.jpg Author: R.K Vermaa License: CC SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:315saww.jpg#filelinks Filename: 8k classroom.jpg Author: Ivan Ahlert License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/10256017@N03/23513188511/in/photostream/ Filename: 8kfinalvideoNEW(720p).gif Name: jtkc_scp_echidna_smaller.png Author: CuPriferous_ License: CC SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP-Wiki Name: jtkc_scp_echidna_smaller_cry_smile.png Author: CuPriferous_ License: CC SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP-Wiki |
SCP-8408 | esoteric-class | Don't be sorry. Just be better. THUMBNAIL SCP-8408 Byㅤ MontagueETC Published on 03 May 2024 02:36 SCP-8408 The Cuckoo's Egg » MontagueETC's Author Page « Published on 03 May 2024 02:36 by MontagueETC 2 SCP-8408 SCP Series 9 » SCP-8408 SCP-8408 Item №: SCP-8408 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8408 is to be covered with a standard-issue cotton bedsheet at all times. The sheet is to be washed once per month. Removing it for any other purpose is strictly prohibited. Description: Incident 8408.1 Attempted Containment Breach [Dr. Melissa Sharrow is washing dishes. The setting sun is visible through the window, casting the room in half-shadow. SCP-8408 enters.] SCP-8408: Can I sit at the table? Dr. Sharrow: You may. [SCP-8408 sits. It is able to remain still for several minutes, but then begins to fidget. It slowly starts tugging at its sheet.] Dr. Sharrow: SCP-8408. [Dr. Sharrow shuts off the faucet but does not turn her head.] Dr. Sharrow: Are you trying to take off your sheet again? SCP-8408: Nuh-uh. Dr. Sharrow: Don't lie to me. SCP-8408: But I'm not! [Dr. Sharrow's knuckles whiten around the edge of a plate.] Dr. Sharrow: Do you intend to break your promise, 8408? [Silence.] Dr. Sharrow: Well? Do you? SCP-8408: …No. I'm sorry. [Dr. Sharrow twists the faucet and resumes dishwashing.] Dr. Sharrow: Don't be sorry. Just be better. Incident 8408.2 Attempted Containment Breach [Dr. Sharrow is reading in the living room. SCP-8408 enters.] SCP-8408: 'Scuse me, M— Um. Dr. Sharrow. [Dr. Sharrow's mouth twists with irritation.] Dr. Sharrow: Yes, SCP-8408? SCP-8408: Can I take off my sheet? I don't feel so good. [Dr. Sharrow sighs.] Dr. Sharrow: I'm not going to have this conversation with you again. No. SCP-8408: But— But I really am sick! My skin feels like it doesn't fit me anymore and two of my teeth fell out and I think I'm starting to taste colors— [Dr. Sharrow snaps her book closed and SCP-8408 flinches.] Dr. Sharrow: If you're going to stay here, I don't want to have to look at you. You owe me that much. SCP-8408: I'm— I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't know. [Dr. Sharrow stands.] Dr. Sharrow: Get out of my sight. [SCP-8408 exits.] Incident 8408.3 [DESIGNATION PENDING] [SCP-8408 is lying on the floor, still covered by its sheet. Entering, Dr. Sharrow nearly trips over SCP-8408 and stifles a curse.] Dr. Sharrow: What are you doing on the ground, 8408? Get up. [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: 8408. [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: SCP-8408, listen to me when I'm talking to you. [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: 8408! [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: …8408? [No response. Dr. Sharrow nudges SCP-8408 with her foot.] Dr. Sharrow: Thomas? [No response. Dr. Sharrow gingerly removes the sheet. Only pale feathers and sundered skin remain. All else has fled.] More From This Author More From This Author MontagueETC's Works SCPs SCP-⌘ • SCP-744 • SCP-7376 • SCP-6462 • SCP-8066 • SCP-8200 • SCP-1908 • SCP-7701 • SCP-7354 • SCP-7408 • SCP-6751 • SCP-6607 • SCP-6454 • SCP-7009 • Tales/GoI Formats Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? • Omnigenesis and the Law of Blades • Who Made You? • Six Codas • DR. KONDRAKI CUT UP WHILE THINKING • A Betamax Suicide Note • Other etcetera, etcetera • Art Exchange 2023 | SCP-6759 • MontagueETC's SCiPTEMBER 2022 Art • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8408" by MontagueETC, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8408. 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: egg.png Author: MontagueETC License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Ghost Author: Monik Markus License: CC BY 2.0 Deed Source Link: Flickr |
SCP-8408 | uncontained | Don't be sorry. Just be better. THUMBNAIL SCP-8408 Byㅤ MontagueETC Published on 03 May 2024 02:36 SCP-8408 The Cuckoo's Egg » MontagueETC's Author Page « Published on 03 May 2024 02:36 by MontagueETC 2 SCP-8408 SCP Series 9 » SCP-8408 SCP-8408 Item №: SCP-8408 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8408 is to be covered with a standard-issue cotton bedsheet at all times. The sheet is to be washed once per month. Removing it for any other purpose is strictly prohibited. Description: Incident 8408.1 Attempted Containment Breach [Dr. Melissa Sharrow is washing dishes. The setting sun is visible through the window, casting the room in half-shadow. SCP-8408 enters.] SCP-8408: Can I sit at the table? Dr. Sharrow: You may. [SCP-8408 sits. It is able to remain still for several minutes, but then begins to fidget. It slowly starts tugging at its sheet.] Dr. Sharrow: SCP-8408. [Dr. Sharrow shuts off the faucet but does not turn her head.] Dr. Sharrow: Are you trying to take off your sheet again? SCP-8408: Nuh-uh. Dr. Sharrow: Don't lie to me. SCP-8408: But I'm not! [Dr. Sharrow's knuckles whiten around the edge of a plate.] Dr. Sharrow: Do you intend to break your promise, 8408? [Silence.] Dr. Sharrow: Well? Do you? SCP-8408: …No. I'm sorry. [Dr. Sharrow twists the faucet and resumes dishwashing.] Dr. Sharrow: Don't be sorry. Just be better. Incident 8408.2 Attempted Containment Breach [Dr. Sharrow is reading in the living room. SCP-8408 enters.] SCP-8408: 'Scuse me, M— Um. Dr. Sharrow. [Dr. Sharrow's mouth twists with irritation.] Dr. Sharrow: Yes, SCP-8408? SCP-8408: Can I take off my sheet? I don't feel so good. [Dr. Sharrow sighs.] Dr. Sharrow: I'm not going to have this conversation with you again. No. SCP-8408: But— But I really am sick! My skin feels like it doesn't fit me anymore and two of my teeth fell out and I think I'm starting to taste colors— [Dr. Sharrow snaps her book closed and SCP-8408 flinches.] Dr. Sharrow: If you're going to stay here, I don't want to have to look at you. You owe me that much. SCP-8408: I'm— I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't know. [Dr. Sharrow stands.] Dr. Sharrow: Get out of my sight. [SCP-8408 exits.] Incident 8408.3 [DESIGNATION PENDING] [SCP-8408 is lying on the floor, still covered by its sheet. Entering, Dr. Sharrow nearly trips over SCP-8408 and stifles a curse.] Dr. Sharrow: What are you doing on the ground, 8408? Get up. [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: 8408. [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: SCP-8408, listen to me when I'm talking to you. [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: 8408! [No response.] Dr. Sharrow: …8408? [No response. Dr. Sharrow nudges SCP-8408 with her foot.] Dr. Sharrow: Thomas? [No response. Dr. Sharrow gingerly removes the sheet. Only pale feathers and sundered skin remain. All else has fled.] More From This Author More From This Author MontagueETC's Works SCPs SCP-⌘ • SCP-744 • SCP-7376 • SCP-6462 • SCP-8066 • SCP-8200 • SCP-1908 • SCP-7701 • SCP-7354 • SCP-7408 • SCP-6751 • SCP-6607 • SCP-6454 • SCP-7009 • Tales/GoI Formats Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? • Omnigenesis and the Law of Blades • Who Made You? • Six Codas • DR. KONDRAKI CUT UP WHILE THINKING • A Betamax Suicide Note • Other etcetera, etcetera • Art Exchange 2023 | SCP-6759 • MontagueETC's SCiPTEMBER 2022 Art • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8408" by MontagueETC, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8408. 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: egg.png Author: MontagueETC License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Derivative of: Name: Ghost Author: Monik Markus License: CC BY 2.0 Deed Source Link: Flickr |
SCP-8410 | safe | As his life crumbles, a young boy retreats into the fantastic world of his dreams, but these dreams are realer than he knows, and carry a secret, sinister purpose. Item#: 8410 Level4 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8410 is held in a standard humanoid containment unit at Site-17. Information on SCP-8410’s past, especially its involvement with Incident 140-CK, is to be restricted to individuals with level 4/8410 clearance. Individuals are only to be given such clearance after a panel of Foundation psychologists has performed a background check and psychological analysis and concluded that they are unlikely to harm SCP-8410 in retaliation for its role in Incident 140-CK. Description: SCP-8410 is a twelve-year-old humanoid male. SCP-8410 currently possesses no outwardly apparent anomalous properties. However, for several years prior to Incident 140-CK, SCP-8410 experienced nightly paracognitive dreams seemingly set in a fictionalized version of Northern Asia c. the 1700s B.C.E. Although these dreams were not reliably accurate in their depiction of the region, they contained a significant amount of classified information regarding anomalous elements active at that time. SCP-8410 denies accessing classified information regarding the period and claims to have never witnessed any anomalous phenomena prior to its first encounter with the Wanderer’s Library, which occurred several years after these dreams began. Descriptions of several of these dreams are given in the document below. Discovery: SCP-8410 first came to the Foundation’s attention when, in the aftermath of Incident 140-CK, it was discovered by Agent ███, a member of MTF Sigma-3 (“Bibliographers”), near the Wanderer’s Library’s copy of SCP-140. The entity was unconscious due to severe blood loss. Agent ███ transported it to Site-██, where it was resuscitated. At the time of its capture, SCP-8410 was in possession of a handwritten, hardcover journal. Its contents have been transcribed below. January 7, 2024 Hey there! I guess me and my mom are the only ones likely to read this, so, if you are reading this, you already know that this is the dream journal my mom got me for my 12th birthday so I could start writing down the strange dreams I have. I’ve had one every night since I was six. Not some nights. Not most nights. Every night. The dreams are about an ancient world of magic and monsters. It’s not the Middle Ages. It’s farther back, with weapons and shields and armor made of bronze. Magic is everywhere. All the best weapons and armor are magical, and those who wield magic in battle are feared and respected. Magic isn’t just for fighting, though. There are pens that supply their own ink. There are spells that preserve food and make it taste better than anything in real life. There are paintings that move like TV screens, statues that come to life, and guqins that pluck their own strings. There are huge magical creatures. Pegasi, krakens, dragons, mogwai, spirits, ghosts, yokai, and giant tartigrades. Some of those creatures speak, and some can be ridden into battle, like my tartigrade mount, Snowflake. In this world, there are four strange magical kingdoms. The Mekhanite kingdom is full of magic machines. Adytum is weird and creepy, with people who reshape their bodies. The Daevite Empire is full of slaves and led by evil tyrants bent on conquering the world, and my country, the Ortothan Kingdom, is the Empire’s greatest enemy. In this world, I’m a heroic Warrior Prince, master of spear and spell alike. Sometimes I fight monsters. Sometimes I battle enemy armies. Sometimes I solve mysteries, explore strange ruins, or quest for ancient and powerful treasures. I do all these things on behalf of my mother, the queen, a kind and noble ruler, beloved by all the land. She looks and acts just like my real mom. She’s just as caring, just as sweet, and her face lights up the same way when I tell her about my adventures. Almost every morning, during breakfast, I tell my mom about my latest dream while we eat the amazing banana pancakes she makes every morning. She loves everything she hears. She’s the only one who knows about my dreams. I’ve tried to tell my best friend Cory, because he’s also in them sometimes, but he’s never really wanted to hear about them. Dad doesn’t know either. He’s already at work by the time I wake up, so he doesn’t hear about the dreams at breakfast. That’s honestly fine with me. He hardly has any time to spend with me. He doesn’t deserve to know about them. Mom has always said I should write my dreams down, and that I should try to make them into books someday. I don’t know if I’m going to go that far, but I don’t mind writing them down here. That way, I can come back and revisit them when I want to relive one of my adventures. Last night, I fought a grand battle. We’ve been marching on the Daevite Empire for weeks. After our victory at the battle of Omass, where we stopped their march into our kingdom, we’ve been pressing our advantage. We’ve left a trail of slain Daevas and freed slaves as we’ve moved through their lands. Now, we’re closing in on their capital, where we can put an end to their tyranny once and for all. Their army is thousands-strong and headed by enormous walking trees that could crush our knights into paste. Fortunately, we have machines of our own. I mentioned that my best friend Cory shows up in my dreams. He has ever since I met him. In real life, Cory is the smartest person I know. In my dreams, he’s a genius inventor from the Mekhanite kingdom, who builds fantastic machines to use in our adventures. Thus, just as the Daevites were piloting enormous trees, me and my companions were piloting great machines of clockwork and bronze as our kingdoms’ armies did fierce battle below us. My battles with the enemy’s machines were fierce. I traded blows with one for more than ten minutes before a great blow to its head caused its pilot to fall out of it. Soon after, when one charged at me, I took it out with a spell that opened a giant pit under it. I left Cory to fight the last machine while I attacked the capital’s outer wall. I could hear Daevite soldiers scrambling to get away from the chunks of rock I sent flying with every punch and kick. I kept wailing on the wall until I’d opened a massive hole for our army to pour in through. Once we had a way inside, we unmade their city, defeating their warriors, and freeing every slave. Unfortunately, the Daevite royal family, including their evil queen, got away. The cowards had fled before we arrived. Still, this was a glorious day. We’d dealt a blow to their empire from which they would never recover. January 8, 2024 Last night, we were back at the queen’s palace, holding a grand feast to celebrate our victory against the Daevites. The food was amazing. A dozen courses. Rice in wonderful sauce. Succulent goose covered with something that was sweet and sour at the same time. Small, sweet cakes, frosted with sweeter cream. At the end of the feast, the Queen called me, Cory, and several more of her bravest warriors to be commended for our heroism. She gave a speech about our bravery as she slipped medals around our necks. I dream about a celebration like this at the end of most of my adventures. Mom always likes hearing about them. I wish I could’ve kept telling her about the dream all day, but eventually, it was time to hug each other goodbye, so I could go off to school and she could go to work. January 8, 2024 Grandma came to school during lunch today, while I was talking with Cory about a show he’d watched. The look on her face worried me. She asked me to follow her into the hallway. A pit formed in my stomach. I glanced at Cory for a moment, then followed her out. “What’s wrong?” I asked once we were in the hall. “Sweetie,” she said, “your mother was in a car crash.” The pit grew tighter. I asked how bad it was. It was bad enough that Grandma felt the need to come get me and bring me straight to the hospital. It turned out to be pointless. The doctors didn’t let me see my mom. She was having surgery the whole time. A few times, I overheard the doctors talking with my grandma. They sugarcoated things when they realized I could hear them, but when they didn’t, it was clear that they didn’t think mom would live. Dad didn’t make it to the hospital. He was too busy with work. Grandma had to drive me home. I can’t wait to go to sleep tonight. January 9, 2024 In last night’s dream, I was in the hall outside the Queen’s bedchamber. The Queen had been poisoned at the feast by a Daevite spy, and now she was lying unconscious on her bed. While the greatest alchemists in the land scrambled to find a cure, I was fighting the grim reaper that had come to claim her. It was the hardest battle I’d ever fought, and the first one to ever frighten me. The reaper was huge, like the skeleton of a giant, dressed in an impossibly pure black robe. Despite how big it was, it was incredibly fast, zipping freely through the air, dodging every thrust of my spear. My screeching alarm woke me up before the battle concluded. My dad had left a note by my bed, telling me he was busy at work, and that I should eat cereal for breakfast and get ready for school on my own. I hate cereal. January 9, 2024 Grandma came to get me at school again. She told me to follow her into the hall. I did. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie,” she said, “your mother is gone.” I could hardly stand. My eyes were blurry with tears. Grandma grabbed me and pulled me into a firm hug. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” January 10, 2024 I didn’t have a dream last night. That doesn’t happen. Not once since my fantasy dreams started. For once, dad was still home when I woke up. We ate breakfast together. Cereal again. There’s no one left who knows about my dreams. This book is now the only record of them outside my own memories. I could tell someone else. Grandma would probably be willing to listen. I could even start calling her to tell her about them every morning, just like I used to do with Mom. I don’t think that’d make me feel better, though. Doing that with someone else would just remind me that I couldn’t do it with my mom. Dad told me about the funeral. “It’s going to be short. Just a little service at the side of her grave.” “Why?” I asked. “What do you mean?” “Why not a proper funeral?” “She wouldn’t have wanted to inconvenience everyone like that.” “I think she would want everyone to have a chance to say goodbye.” “The service will be enough for that.” It won’t be, though. At least, it will be less than she deserves. Saying goodbye to her is not an “inconvenience.” She was the best person in the world, and she deserves to be celebrated. January 12, 2024 Another dreamless night. The “funeral,” is tomorrow. January 13, 2024 The funeral lasted less than half an hour. Dad barely looked sad. I don’t think he cares at all. January 14, 2024 I finally had another dream. It was the end of my battle with the grim reaper. I fought with everything I had. My spells were tearing up the palace, ripping apart the walls, destroying beautiful, priceless decorations, making chunks of the ceiling rain down. None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was fighting this monster off. The Queen was counting on me. An ill-timed lunge left the hall to my right wide-open. The reaper rocketed past me, toward the Queen’s chamber. My eyes went wide. I spun around and thrust at the monster with everything I had. My spear pierced the creature’s robe and shattered the base of its spine. It stopped moving. Its head turned all the way around to give me a final, hateful glare, then it crumbled into ash. Relief overtook me. Relief so powerful I couldn’t help laughing. I’d done it. I’d saved her. As soon as I regained my composure, I went into the room. Mom was already sitting up on her bed. I ran over and hugged her. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for saving me.” As soon as I was awake, I started crying. Not because I was sad. I wasn’t sad. I was happy. Happy that there was a place where I could still see her. January 15, 2024 There was another feast, with increased security, to celebrate the Queen’s survival. Both of us were showered with gifts, and all the realm praised me for winning a duel with death himself. January 16, 2024 It was time for the queen to give me my next mission. Me and Cory met her in the throne room. “Now that the Daevites have fallen,” the Queen said, “there is one final thing that must be done to ensure that their light is snuffed out forever.” She told us about a magical artifact called the Chronicle of Ages. It was an ancient and powerful book, whose magic could rewrite reality, even change the past, to make all your dreams come true. If a surviving Daevite got a hold of it, they would be able to rewrite history to undo our conquest of their capital. The book was in the “Wanderer’s Library,” a magical library on a far-off island. We would need to cross the Kingdom of Adytum to get to it. That made Cory nervous. The Adytites were bitter enemies of Cory’s people. Still, knowing how important this quest was, he agreed to come with me. When I woke up, a burst of excitement overcame me. Finally, another adventure. The dreams of questing were always my favorite. I couldn’t wait to tell mom. Then I remembered. I looked over at my alarm clock. Dad had left the note by my bed again, telling me to get ready for school on my own. I didn’t. I just laid back, I closed my eyes and tried to fall back to sleep. I couldn’t. January 16, 2024 Dad chewed me out for skipping school. He didn’t find out about it until he checked his phone at the end of the day and saw he’d missed a call from the school’s administration, but once he listened to the message they’d left him, he called me and told me I was grounded for two weeks. “Fine,” I said. He didn’t like the tone I said that with, so he added another week for being ‘disrespectful.’ January 17, 2024 We set off on our adventure last night. Adytum is dangerous. Almost as soon as we crossed the border into their kingdom, we were set upon by strange, flying monsters. Blood-sucking fusions between humans and bats that zipped through the air to dodge every shot from Cory’s mechanical crossbow. I had to use a lightning spell to bring them down. It arced from monster to monster, making them fall to the ground, stunned. I rode Snowflake from man-bat to man-bat, thrusting my spear through each of their hearts. January 18, 2024 Next, we had to cross a patch of land where every living thing had been consumed by a terrible disease that made them look like they’d melted. According to Cory, the Adytites had created this disease as a weapon against their enemies, but it had somehow accidentally been released within their own lands. I cast a spell to keep us from getting infected, but we still had to fight our way through. I slew every single monster in the name of the Queen. Thanks to my grounding, I haven’t hung out with Cory since Mom died, but the time I spend with him in my dreams is something Dad can’t take away from me. January 19, 2024 Adytum gave us one last battle on our way out of it. In the land’s strange forests of flesh, we did battle with a monster whose mouth was half its body. The thing’s sticky tongue managed to grab Cory, and it swallowed him. I flipped the thing over by raising a pillar of earth underneath it, then used the tip of my spear to cut the creature’s stomach open so I could pull Cory back out. January 19, 2024 As soon as dad got home from work, he told me he needed to talk to me. “What is it?” I asked, as respectfully as I could. He sat down on the bed. “Harold,” he said, “you should know, I’ve started dating someone.” “Just a few weeks after mom died?” I asked. “Her name is Sarah. I know it’s not been very long, but I didn’t choose when I would meet her. It happened when it happened. I know you’ve had a hard time dealing with things, and I’ve not had enough time to spend with you. “Mom can’t be replaced.” “I know, but Sarah’s still coming over for dinner tomorrow, whether you like it or not.” At least I’m not the only one upset. A few hours later, I happened to walk into the room while he was on the phone with Grandma. She was yelling at the top of her lungs, accusing Dad of having been with this woman since before mom died. I bet she’s right. Dad hasn’t given a crap about Mom in years. Why wouldn’t he start seeing someone else? January 20, 2024 Our battle with the frog-thing behind us, we arrived at a coastal town of fishermen and fleshcrafters. With Cory in disguise, we managed to rent a small ship we could use to sail away from Adytum, toward the island where we’d find the Wanderer’s Library. January 20, 2024 Sarah came over for dinner. She was an olive-skinned woman with short hair. She was nice, at first. She told me she was sorry about my mother’s death, and that she was happy to meet me. She said she’d heard a lot about me, how creative and curious I was, and that she hoped “our relationship” would be “fruitful.” I’m not sure exactly what she meant by that, but I thanked her anyway. She seemed to have Dad wrapped around her finger. She sat down and directed him to set the table. Dad would never have done that for Mom, but when Sarah told him to do it, he didn’t even complain. Sarah did most of the talking once the meal started. Dad was seemingly just there to nod and agree with everything she said. I think I was there for decoration. Neither of them said a word to me until Sarah cut herself off mid-sentence to turn to me and say, “and please do chew with your mouth closed.” “I was,” I said. “Don’t raise your voice.” I huffed. Sarah found this huff extremely disrespectful. She looked at Dad, expectantly, who quickly swallowed the bite of chicken he’d been working on and declared that I was grounded for another week. “Oh C’mon!” I said. This got me sent straight to my room. I wasn’t even allowed to take my food there with me. If this keeps up, I’m going to be grounded for the rest of my life. January 21, 2024 The Wanderer’s Library sat alone on a sandy island. It was green and yellow, as if its bricks were made of gold studded with emerald. It looked more like a palace than a library. No. Not even a palace was made of solid gold. Luckily, the island had a dock where we could leave our boat. Once we’d secured it, we approached what we thought was the library’s front entrance. From afar, it looked like a door made of red stone. Once we reached it, we could see that it wasn’t a door at all. It was a section of brick wall. Not old, clay or stone brick. Modern, red-brown brick, with a single bright red block near its center, and most of the word “awesomesauce” spraypainted across the top of it. Even weirder, I’d seen this section of wall before, in an alley next to a game store Mom used to take me to. It’s only a few miles away from my house. As I stared at the wall, trying to make sense of how something so real and modern had found its way into my dream world, Cory asked how we were going to get into the library without a door. I started to say that I didn’t know, but before I could get the words out, I realized I did know. I didn’t know how I knew, but I knew. I stepped up to the wall, knocked on the bright red brick five times and made a strange noise. Cory started to ask what the heck I was doing, but just a second later, we were inside. We didn’t walk inside. No door opened. We didn’t step forward. We simply found ourselves inside the building, with a similar section of brick on the wall behind us. The building was green and gold on the inside too, and it was impossibly huge. The hall seemed to stretch on forever both in front of us and above us, with all that infinite space lined with well-stocked bookshelves. “Gods,” I muttered. “This is more than we could possibly search through,” Cory said. “Maybe we could find a librarian?” I asked. After walking around the library for a while, we were able to find what seemed to be a help desk. The thing sitting behind it was a strange mound of feathers and mushrooms with no visible eyes. As soon as he saw it, Cory reached for his crossbow, but I held out my hand to stop him. I asked the thing where we could find the Chronicle of Ages. It extended one of its many wings to point to its left, down the hall. “Can you be more specific than that?” I asked. The creature just kept pointing. After walking for a long time, we came across a small door imbedded in one of the shelves. We went inside. Unlike the handful of other side rooms we’d seen, this room had only a single book, ornate and blue, sitting on a pedestal. Its cover bore a bright red title in a foreign language. I could only presume it said, ‘Chronicle of Ages.’ Standing next to the pedestal was a woman in a long, hooded black robe that obscured her face and hair. She looked straight at us as we entered. “I’ve been waiting for you, Harold,” she said. I went still for a moment. No one in the dream world ever uses my real name. I’m always “the Warrior Prince” or sometimes “Hero” or “Holy Warrior.” “Why shouldn’t I know your name?” the woman asked as I stared at her. “I’m in your dream, after all.” I glanced at Cory, worried about how he might react to the claim that he was in a dream of mine. Cory wasn’t reacting, though. He wasn’t moving at all. “Cory?” I asked. “He’s fine,” the woman said. “I just turned him off for a moment. He would only get in the way of the talk we need to have.” “Who are you?” She thought about that for a moment. “A Queen,” she said. “Not your Queen, of course. Another one. You wouldn’t know my name if I gave it.” “What do you want?” I asked. “I need to tell you something very important. Something you must have suspected for some time. I need to help you understand the true nature of this place, of everything you see in your dreams.” “What are you talking about?” “It can’t be that you never guessed it. At the very least, you must have hoped for it. This world is too large, too detailed to be the product of a single child’s dreaming imagination.” Admittedly, I have had that thought before. “Whatever suspicions you might have had, I am here to confirm them. This whole world, in which you have been adventuring for years, is real. It is a slice of the past. A picture of the world as it once was. When magic and splendor flowed freely through all the lands of the earth.” “That’s insane,” I said. “I do not begrudge you thinking so. Fortunately for both of us, there is a way for you to confirm what I say. The place from which you entered the Wanderer’s Library, did you recognize it?” I hesitated. “Yes.” “Go to that alley. Knock on the lone bright red brick, just as you did here, and you will find yourself in the Wanderer’s Library.” I stared at her. This was ridiculous. Completely and utterly insane. Beyond anything that could ever be possible. Sure, my dreams are strange. I’ve never been able to find another example of someone’s dreams telling them continuing stories, night after night, for years on end, but that doesn’t mean it’s possible for magic to be real. I didn’t have the opportunity to say that, though, because just after the woman finished talking, the dream ended. January 21, 2024 As soon as I got home from school today, I came up to my room to look through my journal. I don’t know exactly what I was looking for. I guess something that would help me make sense of what that hooded woman said. I read through the whole journal several times, and tried to remember everything I could about the dreams I had before mom gave it to me. I was there for hours, so long that I was still reading when Dad got home. He opened the door. His appearance was so sudden that it made me jump. “Hello,” he said. “Hi,” I said. “Sarah is coming over for dinner again tomorrow,” I said. “Okay,” I said, as flatly as possible. He nodded. He was just about to leave when his gaze shifted to my hands. “What’s that book you’re holding?” he asked. “I’ve seen you with it a lot.” “My… my dream journal,” I told him, my mind racing to try to figure out why he would care. He walked over to me. He held his hand out. Reluctantly, I handed him the book. He started flipping through it. “So these are dreams you’ve had?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said. “I write them down because sometimes Mom is in them.” That made him think for a moment. “Are you sure that’s healthy?” he asked. “Why wouldn’t it be?” “Clinging to the past can be a bad idea. At worst, it could be a form of denial. Sometimes, something horrible still needs to be accepted—” “Please don’t take it away,” I said. “It was Mom’s gift for my last birthday. It’s the last thing she ever gave me.” He looked down at me. After a moment, he handed the book back. “Alright then, you can keep it,” he said. “Thank you.” “But, if your behavior doesn’t get better than it’s been these past few weeks, that might change.” “What?” “Behave yourself, and it won’t be a problem.” I thought of complaining, but I know from experience that Dad considers that to be misbehavior, so I was silent as he left the room. As soon as he shut the door, I looked over at the window. The alley I saw in my dream is within walking distance of my house. I could go there. But I can’t do that while Dad’s here. If he gets it into his head that the journal made me sneak out, he’ll definitely take it away from me. I’m going to hide this journal. I think there’s a place in my room where it’ll be safe. I won’t say where in case he somehow ends up reading this. January 23, 2024 The dreams are gone again. As if there weren’t enough else wrong with my life. I still have weeks of grounding left. I’ve barely spoken to Cory. Tomorrow is Saturday. Dad is going to be at work all day. If I’m going to go to that alley, if I’m going to test what that woman said, tomorrow will be the easiest time to sneak out. January 24, 2024 Dad was already gone when I woke up. I left out the front door, locking it behind me with a spare housekey. I walked to the alley from my dream and approached the single, bright red brick at the center of the wall. I made sure no one was watching me, then I knocked on it five times and made the same noise I had in my dream. It worked. I don’t understand how. It’s impossible. I know it’s impossible. Nothing like this could be real. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe I’m just going insane. I don’t know. All I can say is what I saw. I found myself in a library. Not quite the same library from my dream. The ceiling wasn’t infinitely high, though it was way higher than the building I’d knocked on. Every wall was covered in well-stocked wooden bookshelves. There were all kinds of books there. Long books. Short books. Black books. Red books. Old, yellow books. Brand new, bright white books. Hardcover books. Notebooks. Diaries. Textbooks. Novels. Newspapers. Magazines, and guidebooks. There were creatures crawling on the shelves. Weird, skinny monsters, each using several legs to climb around the shelves. No two of them looked quite the same. One was a bird. One was a rodent. One was a cross between a spider and an octopus. In my dream, I gotten to the Chronicle of Ages by going straight for several hours until I found the room it was in. I decided I’d do the same thing here. Even if I didn’t find the Chronicle, I figured that as long as I kept going straight, I couldn’t get lost. Maybe it’s wrong to call the path I took “straight.” I didn’t turn any corners where I could help it, but the path I was on curved, twisted, rose, and fell. There was one place where the hall seemed to turn on its side. I thought for a moment that this was going to force me to start walking on the bookshelves, but as the floor curved, gravity curved with it, and I found myself walking comfortably on the sideways floor. About an hour into my trek, I found a lounge. There were a handful of people there. Some of them looked normal. Some of them really, really didn’t. On the far side of the room, a man with bright blue skin conversed with a giant bird who held a small white book in his wingtips. I couldn’t help but stare until the bird thing looked back at me. I turned away and hurried toward the opposite hall. Before I could make it, someone approached me. Not a monster, thank God. Just a woman with long black hair. I stopped walking. “Can I help you?” I asked. “Are you alone here?” she asked. I wondered for a moment if I should admit that I was, but there was no point in lying. Anyone could see that there was no one else with me. “Yeah,” I said. “You’re awfully young to be here alone,” she said. “Why does it matter?” I asked. “Is this place dangerous?” She tilted her head. “This place?” she asked. “Please tell me you at least know where you are.” It took me a second to remember what this place was called, but when I did, I put all the confidence I could muster into saying, “I’m in the Wanderer’s Library.” “Good,” she said. “As for whether the library is dangerous, it depends on if you follow the rules. As long as you do, it’s the safest place in the multiverse. If you don’t, you’ll be lucky if you ever leave again.” She went on to explain what the rules are. Don’t fight anyone else. Don’t damage any books. Always return them on time. I assured her that I would obey all of those rules. She started to walk away, but I told her I had one more question. I asked her if she knew anything about the Chronicle of Ages, or where I could find it. She said she had never heard of it before. After that, I continued down the hall. I tried very hard not to stare at anyone else, no matter how strange they looked. The only other gathering of people I encountered was a small crowd that was waiting for an enormous, slimy worm to finish crawling across a hallway I needed to pass through. I wish I’d thought to bring some water. Walking for hours and hours is a lot more tiring when it’s not part of a dream. There were bathrooms, thankfully, and I was able to get some from their sinks. I pushed forward, and, eventually, finally, I reached the room containing the Chronicle of Ages. Like the rest of the library, it looked different than it had in my dream. It was a normal door, rather than a bit of bookshelf that swung open. There was a sign posted outside it. “No books or liquids may be brought into this room.” A strange rule, but I didn’t have any books or liquids with me, so I went inside. In my dream, the room with the Chronicle had been so dark you couldn’t have actually read inside it. This room was lit brightly. It was narrower than the one in my dream, and a lot longer. I had to walk another hundred feet or so to get to the pedestal with the book on it. This pedestal was taller, made of stone instead of wood, and the Chronicle was attached to it by a thick chain. I opened the book. As soon as my eyes met its pages, I felt a powerful urge to read it cover to cover, right then and there. For some reason, I was completely sure that it would be the most interesting thing I’ve ever read. I had to resist the urge, though. The book was hundreds of pages long. It would’ve taken me hours to read it, and I didn’t have time to do that and walk all the way back home before Dad noticed I was gone. I had to settle for skimming the book. Fortunately, it had plenty of illustrations. As I went through it, making note of those illustrations, and of the bits of it here and there that I did read, I realized that this book was about the world of my dreams. Sketched onto those pages, I saw the seven-pointed star of the Ortothan Kingdom. The crest of the Daevite Empire. The banner of Adytum. An artist’s rendition of my great battle with the Daevites’ walking trees. There was a passage about the fey folk, another about the great sea serpent, still another about the immortal dragon who always seemed to slip away before I could finish him off. And, at the end of the book, the final defeat of the Daevite Empire. Does that mean that what the woman said was true? That I’ve been dreaming about the past? January 29, 2024 Dad came into my room after he got home from work yesterday. I was on my bed, reading a history book I’d borrowed from the school library, trying to find more evidence that the Daevites or Ortothans might have been real. “Sarah and I had a talk about that journal of yours,” Dad said. I looked up at him. “What about it?” I asked. “Sarah doesn’t think it’s a good idea for you to cling to the past like that. You need to accept what’s gone and move on. We won’t throw the book away, but it’s going up in the attic for a while. Where is it?” “I already got rid of it.” He clearly hadn’t expected to hear that. “I realized you were right,” I continued. “I need to move on. Besides, I’m too old for fairy tales.” I held up the book I was holding “That’s why I’m reading a history book now, about things that really happened. I threw the dream journal away. You can look around for yourself if you don’t believe me.” He did. He looked all over my bookshelf and my bedside table. He looked under my bed, and my pillow. He dug through every drawer, and looked behind everything he could move. For a few minutes, he was dangerously close to my hiding place, but he wasn’t quite clever enough to find it. “It looks like you’re telling the truth,” he said. He smiled. I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile. “Getting rid of that book on your own was very mature. I’m proud of you.” I smiled back. “Thanks,” I said. He left. I lucked out today, but I’m not going to be able to keep this journal hidden forever. It’s still in my room. If I keep taking it out to write in it, he’s eventually going to see me with it again. When he does, he’ll take it away, and my last connection to the world of my dreams, to Mom, will be gone. January 30, 2024 I finally had another dream. I was in the same room as before, the dream version of the Wanderer’s Library, with the hooded woman and the Chronicle of Ages. Cory was still frozen next to me. “I believe you’ve been to the Wanderer’s Library?” The woman asked. “How do you know that?” I asked. “Never mind that. The important thing is, you’ve seen that everything I said was true?” I hesitated. “It looked real,” I said. “Very good. Now, with that established—” “Who are you, really?” I asked. Her face shifted to a slight frown. “I told you. I am a queen.” “You know that’s not a real answer.” “But it is the answer you will receive.” “How are you talking to me in my dreams?” “You’ve seen that magic is real. How do you think I’m doing it?” I studied her. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t place it. Her face was hidden by her hood and the dim light of this room. “The library looked a little different in real life,” I said, “but, the blue book that was on its own in the huge room, it was the Chronicle of Ages, right?” She nodded. “Can the Chronicle of Ages really make all your dreams come true?” She smiled. “Yes, it can.” “Then…” I hesitated again, “…could I use it to make my dreams come true? These dreams, where I’m in this land full of magic and adventure. Where my mom is still the Queen. Is still alive?” The woman’s face lit up, just like Mom’s used to when I told her about my dreams. “You are a clever boy,” she said. “I was just about to bring up that very subject.” She gestured at the Chronicle of Ages. “This book, this glorious book, does indeed have that power. To rewrite the world. To bring back the magic and adventure that it has lost. To take this wonderful past and drag it forward into the present.” “How?” I asked. “How do I make it happen?” “It’s not difficult. The Chronicle has the power to write itself. The only thing it cannot do is supply its own ink. Give it something to write with, any dark fluid you can find, and it will do the rest. You will emerge from the library to find your world rewritten. Your dreams made real. You shall be a hero. A Warrior Prince. You will be able to see your best friend, and your mother’s reign shall continue.” It seemed too good to be true, but why shouldn’t it be true? If that library and all the fantastical creatures I saw in it could exist, why shouldn’t there be a book that could make all your dreams come true? There was a problem, though. “I can’t bring any ink to the book,” I said. “In the library, the real one, there’s a sign outside this room that says you can’t bring liquids into it. I don’t think I should disobey that. I’ve been told that breaking the library’s rules is very dangerous.” “It is” she admitted. “The Library is not to be trifled with.” She thought for a moment. “There is, of course, one liquid they cannot stop you from bringing into the room.” “What are you talking about?” “It’s nothing you haven’t done before. Magic, in this world, often comes at one particular price.” I started to ask her what she meant, but then I realized. There’s something about my dreams that I’ve been leaving out of this journal. Something even Mom never knew. Ortothan magic, the whole Ortothan religion, is full of blood. We give blood offerings to our gods. Only small amounts, from willing doners. Usually, it’s a gift, to empower the gods to protect the world, but, sometimes, the offerings are payments, given in exchange for miracles. That’s how I cast many of my most powerful spells. It's how I summoned lightning to take down those bats, and how I opened that giant pit underneath the Daevites’ moving tree. “How much blood will the book take?” I asked. “No more than you give in your offerings.” “And in exchange for that, I can have my mother back?” “Yes. You can.” I looked at her. I still couldn’t make out her face. Her eyes. All I could see was that she was smiling. “I understand that this is a lot to take in,” she said. “You can take some time to think it over.” “I don’t need time,” I said. “I’m going to do it.” Somehow, her smile grew even wider. “Excellent,” she said. “Make your way to the library as soon as you can. Give the Chronicle of Ages an offering, and it will rewrite the world.” With that, the woman vanished. Just a moment later, Cory started moving again. I looked over at him. He looked back. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did you see something strange?” “No,” I said. “Nothing.” I walked up to the pedestal. This Chronicle of Ages wasn’t chained to it. I took the book, walked the long path back out of the library, and used my magic to return to my mother’s throne room. Mom stood as soon as she saw that I’d appeared. Her gaze was warm. Loving. I ran up to her and hugged her. She hugged me back. I held her tight. I cried. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” She smiled. “I’m happy to see you, too,” she said. “You’ve come through for me again, my Warrior Prince, as you always shall.” January 31, 2024 It’s Wednesday. A school day. I don’t care. After what I’m going to do today, I’ll never have to go to school again. I’m going to do it. I’ve grabbed a steak knife from the kitchen and the big water bottle Dad used to take on his morning walks. I’m going to go back to the Library, give the Chronicle an offering, and change the world. I’m taking the journal with me, too. I won’t break the rules by taking it inside the room, but I want to keep it close. I don’t want the Chronicle of Ages to erase it when it changes the world. I can’t wait to see Mom again. Shortly after composing this document, SCP-8410 appears to have approached the Wanderer’s Library’s copy of SCP-140 and lacerated itself. This resulted in a CK Class Reality Restructuring event, which, in accordance with SCP-140’s usual properties, altered the past to prevent the destruction of the Daevite Empire, resulting in its persistence into the modern day. Due to being located inside the Wanderer’s Library when Incident CK-140 occurred, SCP-8410 was unaffected by it, and did not become aware of its true nature until informed during its interrogation. Addendum 8410-1: SCP-8410’s biological father has been located living within Imperial Territory serving as a consort for the Daeva Vihe Saroah. Records indicate that SCP-8410 was purchased along with its parents on 12/11/2023, but that its mother was sacrificed shortly thereafter as part of the Saroah estate’s celebration of the Daevite Festival of Renewal. Addendum 8410-2: Dr. Green’s request that SCP-8410 be permitted humanitarian access to amnestic treatment has been denied on the grounds of SCP-8410’s potential value as an intelligence asset. More by this Author |
SCP-8413 | safe | The inhumanity of Human Resources. Canon Hub » Site-17 Deepwell Catalog / Department of Tactical Theology » SCP-8413 Site-17 Sector-13D, c. 1984 Item #: SCP-8413 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8413 has been sealed off from the rest of Site-17’s East Wing. The pathways from Sectors-14Q, -10Z, and -11A to SCP-8413 have been locked. The 27 surviving personnel1 who witnessed Incident-4/10/2023-SCP-8413 have been amnesticized and reassigned to Tactical Theology offices at Site-270. Internal disinformation has been disseminated, explaining this as a precautionary measure following the breach of an infohazardous anomaly. The witnessing personnel are to be monitored for any lingering side effects from the incident. However, this is deemed unlikely and is of low priority status. Description: SCP-8413 refers to Sector-13D of Site-17’s East Wing. Sector-13D was formerly the center of operations for Site-17’s branch of the Department of Tactical Theology, established in the September of 1984 to aid in the containment of [RESTRICTED TO PERSONNEL WITH 5/SINGING CROW CLEARANCE]. It is believed that over a period of at least 10 years, safety guidelines were improperly followed, leading to a build-up of Akiva radiation in the structure and the events of Incident-4/10/2023-SCP-8413.2 Incident-4/10/2023-SCP-8413 remains one of the rare cases on record of Akiva radiation causing such drastic effects on a physical environment. During the event, several discrete anomalous phenomena were reported. These included: Elevated temperatures; An omnipresent smell of burning printer ink; Prophetic visions; The manifestation and demanifestation of office appliances; The voice of Site Director Thomas Graham (PID-0017DW) playing over the PA System, giving contradictory and nonsensical instructions; Ashby Protocol was engaged to isolate Sector-13D from the rest of the facility. Decontamination Procedure OPAQUE FESTIVAL was successfully initiated by on-Site Task Forces. Approximately three hours later, the majority of anomalous activity ceased. It is currently theorized that the critical levels of Akiva radiation within Sector-13D caused some manner of [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM]. NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION The remainder of SCP-8413's description is not to be published until an accurate phrasing can be agreed upon by both the Ethics Committee and Site-17 Administration. The previous description (Revision #023) was denied due to including a number of disputed terms. At issue are the words "judgement", "justice", "punishment", and "thematic". — Jane Berezovsky-Fischer (PID-4851KS), Archivist, RAISA Addendum — SCP-8413 Sub-Anomalies Five sub-anomalies of SCP-8413 have persisted to the present day. Each of these anomalies involved the modification of the bodies of five specific personnel employed at Sector-13D as well as the surrounding environs. (See below for more details.) The affected personnel appear to be in an anomalous state of suspended animation, and attempts to move them from their current positions have been met with failure. Euthanasia proposals pending approval. The list of employees kept within SCP-8413 is as follows: SCP-8413-A is Dr. Anthony Winch (PID-4921SW), assigned as Sector-13D's Manager. Dr. Winch's body below the waist has been fed into Sector-13D's industrial paper shredder, which remained active despite being disconnected from its power supply. Dr. Winch has yet to pass out from blood loss. Additionally, Dr. Winch's cell phone has been split into two parts, which have been partially fused onto opposite sides of Dr. Winch's head in a manner similar to antennas or goat horns. The phone remains powered on; Dr. Winch appears to have been in the process of texting Rsr. Rees. Occasionally, texts are received from an unknown number, causing Dr. Winch's head to vibrate. His vocalizations suggest extreme distress and/or arousal. SCP-8413-B is Dr. Emily Park (PID-2313IK), assigned as a Senior Researcher at Sector-13D. The majority of Dr. Park's epidermis has been stripped from her bones and replaced with cables sourced from the personal computers of both Dr. Park and Rsr. Rees. Additionally, the fire suppression system within Sector-13D has been powered on in the room containing SCP-8413-B. Freezing water pours down onto Dr. Park's body, causing her to suffer hypothermia and constant electrocution. To prevent the room's flooding, a drain system has been built into Sector-13D. Her Foundation-issued diploma was found missing and has not been located. SCP-8413-C is Dr. Daan Van Dijk (PID-9092RG), assigned as Sector-13D's Human Resources and Ethics Committee Liaison. Broken shards of glass sourced from Dr. Van Dijk's office were stabbed into his ears, causing him to perpetually bleed from the affected orifices. Acidic correction fluid constantly pours into his eyes, blinding him. Additionally, wires sourced from Sector-13D's telephone system have been forced down his throat. His tongue has been removed, and the stump has been cauterized. Furthermore, Dr. Van Dijk was found to have been anomalously moved 3 meters into the air, and his neck became entangled with the lighting system, trapping him in place. His legs thrash weakly as he sways back and forth. Official Complaint Forms spill out of a gash in his torso, [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM]. SCP-8413-D is Dr. Ingrid Wagner (PID-1732AO), assigned as a [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM]. Dr. Wagner's head appears to have been partially fused with Sector-13D's HP USB Single Station Thermal Receipt Printer, constantly staying at an extremely high temperature. It is heavily damaged, melting into her flesh and causing her 3rd degree burns. Attempts to extinguish the flames have failed. It constantly ejects hot printer ink into her mouth, causing her severe physical distress. The device remains partially functional. The printer constantly prints a number of garbled documents, primarily unsent resignation letters signed by Rsr. Rees. Furthermore, [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM]. Per Resolution EC/FSD #0001, investigation into SCP-8413-D has been strictly prohibited. SCP-8413-E is Amelia Rees (PID-4729FP), assigned as a Junior Researcher at Sector-13D. [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM], [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM], over 300,000 staples pushed into her hands and feet, trapping her against the wall in a splayed-out position. [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM] vivisection revealed that Rsr. Rees's lungs had been replaced by several Employee of the Month awards, causing asphyxiation. [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM]. Despite this, Rsr. Rees remains conscious and capable of vocalization. [REDACTED BY ORDER OF THE SCP-8413 INVESTIGATIVE TEAM]. Footnotes 1. Count disputed. A small minority of the SCP-8413 Investigative Team maintains that there were 32 survivors. 2. Under normal circumstances, Dr. Anthony Winch, as the office supervisor, would be subject to disciplinary action for Class-V Negligence. For obvious reasons, such action has been withheld. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8413" by Cathy Autumn, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8413. 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: Photograph of the Division of Classification and Cataloging (36341206050).jpg Author: The U.S. National Archives License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons |
SCP-8416 | esoteric-class | Item#: 8416 Level1 Secondary Class: thaumiel Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Map of the moon’s Earth-facing hemisphere, with Emission Sites 1-4 and their corresponding SCP-8416-1 zones labeled in red, yellow, green, and blue respectively Special Containment Procedures: There are currently no sanctioned procedures intended to actively contain SCP-8416 or conceal its existence from the civilian populace, as doing so is considered infeasible and unnecessary, respectively. To date, no known individuals or organizations outside of the Foundation are capable of detecting SCP-8416, through technology or otherwise. If this exclusivity is threatened at any point in the future, the Veil Maintenance Department will be tasked with suppression and/or termination efforts as needed, with the optimal strategy to be determined on a case-by-case basis. To date, no such intervention has been required. All Foundation personnel of Level-1 Clearance or higher are to be given a standardized summary of SCP-8416’s nature and properties during their initial employment orientations, following the standard introductory overview regarding the existence of anomalies. Personnel with Level-0 Clearance are not to be informed of SCP-8416 or related phenomena in any capacity. Level-0 staff assigned to SCP-8416-1 sites are to be permitted to enter and exit said facilities at regularly scheduled intervals under the pretense of conventional employment within their respective occupation. Foundation personnel who’s employment is terminated under dishonorable circumstances are to have all knowledge relating to SCP-8416 erased through the requisite level of amnesthetization, with adverse complications from treatment regarded as a secondary concern. Description: SCP-8416 is an audiospacial frequency originating from the collective vibration of the away-facing hemisphere of Earth’s moon. The mechanism behind this vibration is not thoroughly understood, but it is theorized to represent an extreme manifestation of quantum superpositioning, catalyzed by the away-facing hemisphere's relative size and proximity to the population of Earth, coupled with its total lack of visibility to said population. This results in the instantaneous relocation of all affected particles between 2 adjacent points in space perpetually. Although precisely measuring the resulting waveform is technologically infeasible at this time, it has been determined to be of an unequivocally higher frequency than any other known sound, anomalous or otherwise, by several orders of magnitude. SCP-8416’s wavelength is estimated to be significantly less than a planck’s length. Because of this, SCP-8416 travels through the medium of physical reality itself, rendering it imperceptible to all conventional organisms and technology, and enabling its transmission through the vacuum of space. SCP-8416 is continuously generated and is subsequently focused and amplified within the moon through a currently unknown process, before being emitted in linear beams from 4 large craters on the the surface of the moon’s Earth-facing hemisphere, designated Emission Sites 1-4. Each crater serves as the exit point of 4 separate SCP-8416 emissions, resulting in a total of 16 beams, all of which are directed at the Earth during approximately 50% of each day-night cycle. SCP-8416-1 designates 16 circular portions of Earth’s surface that are each targeted by an SCP-8416 beam, individually designated SCP-8416-1A through SCP-8416-1P. SCP-8416-1 instances are invariably 1.24km in diameter, and are positioned at static and seemingly random terrestrial locations distributed across Earth’s entire surface area. SCP-8416 beams remain focused on their respective SCP-8416-1 zones for as long as they are in range1. Outside of these periods, SCP-8416 beams are directed into deep space with no discernable target. Despite experiencing consistent intervals when SCP-8416 is not present, SCP-8416-1 zones display their anomalous properties at all times. The exact nature of the causal connection between the two has not been definitively determined. Map of SCP-8416-1 zones, labeled in colors corresponding to their respective Emission Sites as outlined in the previous diagram. Locations, objects, and events observed by a sapient entity within the perimeter of an SCP-8416-1 zone cannot be recalled correctly upon exiting said perimeter. During this momentary transition period, all memories formed within the SCP-8416-1 zone are erased and replaced with a realistic fictional narrative that the brain then accepts as an accurate recollection. These false memories align with the amount of time spent within the SCP-8416-1 zone to a reasonable degree, and account for any alterations to one’s person that occurred during this period, such as changes in clothing or injuries. Multiple visits to a particular zone by a single individual result in false narratives that are logically consistent between occasions. When multiple individuals exit an SCP-8416-1 zone at the same approximate time and location, the resulting false memories align factually between all parties. Forms of documentation originating from within an SCP-8416-1 zone (written descriptions, videos, etc.) do not physically change upon crossing the perimeter. Nevertheless, they are perceived by individuals who subsequently view them as aligning with their respective fictional narrative, even when said individuals were not informed of this narrative prior to viewing. The same phenomenon affects any live transmissions originating from within an SCP-8416-1 zone, with perceived alterations to their content aligning with fabricated memories later implanted into any individual(s) involved with the transmission upon exiting said zone. Any entity or device that remotely observes an SCP-8416-1 zone from a position outside of its perimeter can accurately perceive the space within it until observation ceases, at which point an equivalent memory alteration event occurs. Likewise, both direct recordings and secondary transcriptions of said observation become perceptually inaccurate at this time. The cumulative result of these properties is a complete informational vacuum regarding the current or former contents and transpirations present in actuality within an SCP-8416-1 zone from any external perspective. Memories implanted through SCP-8416 exposure vary widely in subject matter and are often extremely elaborate, with their degree of complexity positively correlating with the length of continuous time spent within an SCP-8416-1 zone. General elements that are frequently present within narratives derived from SCP-8416 exposure include2: Traveling along artificial routes, such as roads and trails, when said routes were not actually encountered/present. Witnessing and/or interacting with natural landmarks possessing physical attributes distinct enough to be remembered in particular detail, when said landmarks were not actually encountered/present. Witnessing and/or interacting with Flora and Fauna endemic to the respective geographic location of the SCP-8416-1 zone, with potentially positive, negative, or neutral consequences, when said organisms were not actually encountered/present. Witnessing and/or interacting with fellow humans, typically individuals that are ethnically correlated to the respective SCP-8416-1 zone, with potentially positive, negative, or neutral consequences, when said humans were not actually encountered/present and may or may not correspond to real individuals. Witnessing and/or interacting with various objects/structures of apparently man-made origin, either currently or formerly in use, of a similar/identical design to existent man-made inventions and plausibly consistent with the respective SCP-8416-1 zone, when said objects/structures were not actually encountered/present. Experiencing various forms of miscellaneous phenomena, such as weather patterns and tectonic activity, that did not actually occur within the SCP-8416-1 zone during the time frame of immersion. Likewise, any locations, objects, organisms, individuals, or events encountered in actuality within an SCP-8416-1 zone are largely absent from their corresponding fictitious narrative, with the only commonalities being extremely general in nature, such as the environmental setting and time of day. This principle is only overridden when multiple sapient entities are concurrently present in close proximity to each other, as each entity recalls the presence of all other entities in a manner that is consistent across all parties. Memories created through SCP-8416 exposure invariably lack any elements that would conflict with the affected individual’s fundamental understanding of the universe, and are thus typically free of anomalous content. SCP-8416’s cognitive effects exhibit referential negation3, meaning prior knowledge of SCP-8416’s existence and general description provides immunity to its influence. The informational components necessary to acquire this immunity are divided into 5 basic categories: Knowledge of SCP-8416’s origin, that being the away-facing hemisphere, or “dark side”, of Earth’s moon. Knowledge of SCP-8416’s physical nature and composition, that being a high-energy sound wave. Details regarding SCP-8416’s subspacial resonance properties are not required. Rather, one only has to know that SCP-8416 is a sound of some kind, and that it is higher in both amplitude and frequency than typical sounds. Understanding this information through layman's terms, such as “loud” and “high-pitched”, is also effective. Knowledge of SCP-8416’s pattern of emission, that being a continuous and unwavering tone. Retaining the impression that SCP-8416 emission is brief, temporary, or variably staggered in any way prevents the development of immunity, as does presuming that it ceased at some point in the past or will begin at some point in the future. Knowledge of SCP-8416's primary target, that being the planet Earth. Knowledge of more specific geographical locations is unnecessary, as is knowledge of the exact proportion of time that SCP-8416 beams are directed at Earth. Understanding that the preceding information is categorically true in reality. No further details are required. Misconceptions regarding any further aspects of SCP-8416 do not impact immunity. Individuals who possess this knowledge are able to enter and exit SCP-8416-1 zones without experiencing anomalous memory alterations, and thus can accurately recall contents and experiences therein with a typical level of detail and precision. Addendum 8416.1: 04/21/1962: Discovery SCP-8416 was first detected through an experimental Subspace Resonance Detector (SRD) developed as part of the Foundation’s Worldwide Anomalous Monitoring Initiative (FWAMI)4. Once perfected, the SRD was able to identify and locate all 16 SCP-8416-1 zones, though their anomalous psychological properties remained unknown. On-site investigation of all SCP-8416-1 zones was subsequently conducted by Research Associate Dr. Carter Rattigan. The effects of SCP-8416 exposure were assessed through D-Class trials wherein subjects were instructed to enter and explore SCP-8416-1 zones for varying lengths of time. Subjects were not informed of the purpose of these experiments or the nature of their assigned locations. Upon the conclusion of these initial experiments, no physical or psychological aberrations were found in participating subjects. Thus, researchers were authorized to conduct expeditions into SCP-8416-1 zones directly, under the condition that D-Class personnel accompany each foray for the purpose of exploring any potentially hazardous areas. Knowledge of SCP-8416 remained undisclosed to participating subjects during these operations, leading to the incidental discovery of SCP-8416’s anomalous cognitive effects, as the recollections of returning researchers contradicted those of returning D-Class personnel. Finer nuances of SCP-8416-1’s properties were subsequently determined through trial and error. Addendum 8416.2: 10/09/1962: Preliminary Documentation Aside from the presence of SCP-8416, SCP-8416-1 zones exhibit no inherent anomalous features, and are visually indistinct from the areas surrounding them. The following is a general summary of each SCP-8416-1 location and the contents therein. Information was compiled by Dr. Rattigan during SCP-8416’s initial research phase: + Access Description Logs - Access Description Logs Designation Geographic Coordinates Location Description 8416-1A 44.5015, -110.3755 Temperate deciduous forest within the western portion of Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. 8416-1B 20.6804, -102.1591 Mountainous region positioned along the northern side of the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt, Mexico. 8416-1C 60.3522, -101.5865 Mixed boreal forest within southern Nunavut, Canada. 8416-1D -37.5391, -66.7818 Flat steppe environment within the Patagonian Desert, Argentina. 8416-1E 2.1598, -55.3560 Tropical rainforest within northern Brazil. Partially intersects with the Tapajós river along the southeast segment of its perimeter5. 8416-1F 70.5712, -31.4497 Polar desert located on the eastern portion of the Greenland Ice Sheet. 8416-1G 14.9938, -5.0826 Hamada portion of the Sahara Desert within southern Mali. 8416-1H 47.5516, 23.9214 Temperate woodland within northeast Romania. 8416-1I -11.1284, 31.1282 Tropical savanna within Zambia’s northern province. 8416-1J 34.2766, 47.3879 Rocky plateau adjacent to the eastern border of the Zagros Mountains, Iran. 8416-1K -68.5841, 80.4147 Polar desert located near the edge of the Antarctic Ice Sheet. 8416-1L 54.7956, 70.2929 Temperate grassland within northern Kazakhstan 8416-1M 33.9056, 88.3006 Alpine tundra situated upon a moderately elevated portion of the Tibetan Plateau. 8416-1N 13.5377, 104.6482 Tropical lowland forest within central Cambodia. 8416-1O -29.1152, 121.8748 Arid shrubland within the western portion of the Australian Outback. 8416-1P 64.0331, 167.0506 Dense boreal forest within eastern Siberia. Addendum 8416.3: 09/16/1967: O5-Proposal 8416 The following proposal was submitted to the O5 Council by Head Researcher Dr. Rattigan following the completion of initial study into SCP-8416 and SCP-8416-1 locations: + Access Proposal Transcript - Exit Proposal Transcript Esteemed members of the Council, I have been assigned to the Subspace Resonance Division of FWAMI since its inception nearly eight years ago. Our research was originally conducted for the purpose of remote anomaly detection. However, it has instead resulted in an incidental discovery with far more practical potential than we could have ever imagined. As you are surely aware, conventional global powers have continued to advance technologically and grow increasingly interconnected in recent years, making the fulfillment of the Foundation’s mission while avoiding exposure to the general public exponentially more challenging. This dilemma poses a significant risk to the Foundation as it currently operates, and was the primary catalyst for the FWAMI’s initial inception. However, we believe that our discovery could not only significantly reduce this risk, but would all but negate the need for long-range remote observation entirely. Due to a subspace phenomenon detected by our prototype SRD, sixteen separate locations with novel paraphysical properties have been identified. All terrestrial, all uninhabited, all across the world. Our compiled research logs, attached below6, extensively detail the properties of these locations. Based on these findings, we have concluded that utilizing these zones for continuous Foundation operations would pose little to no risk for involved parties, would be highly advantageous in the task of maintaining international security, and could even prove to be instrumental in our undertaking of clandestine endeavors going forward. Thus, we encourage the consideration of all sixteen locations relating to this anomaly (Currently under Provisional Designation 8416) for use in future Foundation operations. Respectfully, Dr. Carter Rattigan UPDATE: O-5 referendum ruled in favor of Dr. Rattigan’s proposal7. PD: Project-8416 has been approved as of 10/17/1967. Addendum 8416.4: 01/12/1968: Project Black Moon Directed by Chief Research Coordinator Dr. Rattigan, Project Black Moon (PBM) was an international construction and dissemination project primarily centered around SCP-8416 and its associated phenomena. PBM’s directives were divided into 2 central categories: Establishment of secure Foundation sites within SCP-8416-1 zones, initially consisting of strategic operative and temporary containment infrastructure, before eventually expanding to include research, long-term containment, and administrative residence facilities. Due to the efficacy of their self-concealing properties, SCP-8416-1 sites have become the primary locations for all substantial Foundation operations. Universal disclosure of knowledge regarding SCP-8416 among all Foundation staff of Level-1 Clearance or above for the purpose of referential negation. This knowledge has been gradually streamlined into a vague yet concise declarative statement providing the minimum amount of information necessary to develop immunity to SCP-8416: “The black moon howls ceaselessly upon us”. This phrase is uttered repeatedly over the course of a standard Foundation orientation seminar, translated into the corresponding language thereof, and is used in reference to both those present in the immediate vicinity, the Foundation as a whole, and humanity as a whole, and is typically accompanied by at least 1 simplistic but intuitively understandable illustration. This practice improves the ease in which personnel can coordinate and travel between SCP-8416-1 sites, which will almost certainly be required at some point in their career. Likewise, the concealment of this information from Level-0 personnel enables the employment of necessary maintenance and janitorial staff within SCP-8416-1 sites without the risk of a security breach. Said staff’s false memories of their employment are internally consistent and largely aligned with their respective occupations, with the only substantial deviations from reality concerning the type of facility they work in, which is invariably recalled as mundane and free of anomalous phenomena. Incidentally, the dissemination of this information among all and only authorized Foundation staff has resulted in the popularization of an informal social custom among English-speaking personnel, particularly undercover field operatives, used to assess a given individual’s affiliation with the Foundation in a swift and discreet manner. The practice consists of asking the individual in question “Does the black moon howl?”. Subjects that are in fact members of the Foundation will reply with either “Ceaselessly upon us” or the acronym thereof: “Cuu”8, depending on the level of discretion necessitated by their current circumstances. The abbreviated response is distinct enough to recognize but simple and brief enough to be obscured by additional statements and sounds, such as sneezing. Although this technique has reportedly been helpful in numerous improvisatory situations, it is far from infallible, and is thus not an officially recognized procedure. Personnel are advised to employ formal Foundation identification methods, such as clearance-codes and retinal scans, whenever possible. PBM operated from 1968-1975, at which point its objectives were deemed comprehensively successful, and it was thus reclassified as concluded. However, procedures required to maintain the achievements of PBM have been codified as standard practice within the Foundation, and to date continue in perpetuity. Addendum 8416.5: 03/03/2007: Incident Report On 03/03/2007, at 12:21 Australian Western Standard Time, EDICT9 Dr. Rattigan entered SCP-8416-1O, now designated PrimeSite-O, through the gate positioned along its eastern quadrant. Upon crossing the perimeter of the zone, Dr. Rattigan immediately disappeared and/or ceased being visible from his location. The vehicle in which he was traveling continued to operate without guidance until halted within a nearby ditch. This event was corroborated by both security camera footage and multiple direct witnesses. Said witnesses, one of whom was Site Director Dr. Andrew Folkes, had planned to convene with Dr. Rattigan at the border and accompany him to O-Res10. A site-wide investigation was subsequently initiated, but to date is designated inconclusive due to a complete lack of evidence discovered regarding the nature of this event or the current status of Dr. Rattigan. On account of this, the case has been elevated to a Foundation-wide endeavor. All personnel of Level-1 Clearance or higher who believe they can possibly provide insight into this incident are strongly encouraged to contact PrimeSite-O’s Office of Internal Affairs11. To this end, a synopsis of all currently known information deemed to be potentially pertinent is provided below: Dr. Rattigan’s career had directly involved SCP-8416 and SCP-8416-1 zones for approximately 45 years preceding his disappearance (1962-2007). During this time frame, Dr. Rattigan had been pivotal in the initial research of SCP-8416 and related phenomena, as well as the development and execution of Project Black Moon. Dr. Rattigan had visited SCP-8416-1O on 15 prior occasions, and had conducted a greater number of visitations to each of the other SCP-8416-1 zones, all without incident. No other instances of individuals disappearing while crossing an SCP-8416-1 perimeter, with or without referential negation, are known. The moon was in a waning gibbous phase at the time of the incident. The moon was not visible from SCP-8416-1O at the time of the incident. On the occasion of his disappearance, Dr. Rattigan had traveled to SCP-8416-1O for the purposes of officially announcing his retirement, attending a social function celebrating his distinguished career, and appointing Dr. Folkes to the position of EDICT in his stead. Due to the indeterminate nature of this event and the currently ongoing investigation thereof, all nonessential travel into or out of SCP-8416-1 zones has been suspended until further notice. Contact your direct supervisor for more information. _ SOMEONE PLEASE READ THISSOMEONE PLEASE REMEMBER THIS ENTRIES FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. CARTER RATTIGAN Upload Time: 03/05/2007, 19:54 AWST Files Attached: 9 _ - WIP#2- 03/03/2007 Well, I’m finally here. The trip was long, but it went about as smoothly as I could have expected. I slept through most of the flight, so I felt comfortable starting the driving leg shortly after landing. Although I managed to outpace the sun for a few hours, I still got caught in the sweltering late-morning heat toward the end of the journey. The Foundation rental’s crappy AC couldn’t keep up, so I was awfully sweaty by the time I arrived, but otherwise no worse for wear. Andrew had offered to meet me in person at the entrance, which was quite considerate of him given his busy schedule. Perhaps he wanted some words of encouragement before the torch is officially passed. Feeling some trepidation is understandable, big shoes and whatnot, but he has nothing to worry about in my opinion. His suitability for the role of EDICT has been clear to me for over a decade now, ever since he helped resolve the Great Barrier Trench fiasco. I literally wrote the book on RN-P constructs, and even I couldn’t figure it out. I’d probably still be rerouting cargo the long way if it weren’t for him. I truly couldn’t be any more confident in someone’s aptitude for this position. He was parked just inside the gate, along with some assistants. It's funny, knowing what the perimeter fences represent, I always expect some sort of… I don’t know, something, when I pass through them. A feeling, a sense, anything at all to indicate its significance. There never is, of course, given the limitations of human perception, but no matter how many times I cross, there’s still a part of me that always expects it, and I think today I was finally right. It was only a moment, gone before I even had time to think. I saw Andrew and the others, and heard my tires rolling across the course dirt road. Then I saw two Andrews, two of everyone in his cohort, two gates, two everything. The sound of the tires crescendoed into an ear-piercing screech similar to microphone feedback; I’m still unsure whether it was an audible malfunction of my hearing aids or entirely mental in nature. I felt the strongest sense of vertigo I’ve ever had, like when you abruptly wake up after falling in a dream. Then, all at once, it passed, and everything was normal again. I don’t think the back of my car had even passed the threshold yet. I still felt a bit shaken as I got out to greet Andrew and his associates. I think they must have noticed, but they didn’t say anything. Maybe they chalked it up to the more sentimental aspects of these circumstances, to me preparing to secede from what has been my life’s work, to knowingly entering a -1 zone for what will probably be the last time. That’s what I chalked it up to, anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be doing this —I’ve been overdue for retirement and some well-deserved relaxation, and I’m confident in the legacy I’ll be leaving behind—, but it’s still turning out to be a surreal experience. Even now, long after I’ve settled in here, I just can’t shake the feeling that something is… off. Andrew and his convoy led me to 1O-Res and gave me a brief tour of the building. From what I’ve seen so far, everything is going according to plan. The staff have really outdone themselves with the ceremony preparations. They showed me the auditorium where I’ll give my speech, the banquet hall where a buffet is already being prepared, and lastly my personal accommodations. It’s little more than a bed, desk, and bathroom, but it's more than sufficient to me, as I don’t plan on spending much time cooped up in here anyway, what with all the festivities. Andrew seemed to grow distracted toward the end of the tour. His commentary on the last few locations sounded as though they were far more abbreviated than he had originally planned. His statements were short and curt, and he kept having to leave the room to take calls. I could tell he was growing worried by the end of it. Though my curiosity was piqued, I didn’t feel it would be appropriate to pry. He wants to show me he can handle things on his own, and I want to show him that I have no doubt. I’m sure he’ll let me into the loop sooner or later. For now, I have a speech to rehearse. _ - WIP#3- 03/04/2007 Something is wrong. I don’t know what exactly, but it’s definitely something. I’ve felt it ever since I arrived, pervasive but indescribable. At first I assumed it was just me, an internal reflection of my emotional state, but the signs have since become undeniable. Something is objectively, palpably wrong, and I think others have realized it too. all of -1O’s external communication channels went offline yesterday. Andrew and his staff have been scrambling to fix it ever since, but so far they’ve made no headway. There are no signs of a technical malfunction on our end, just a complete lack of incoming signals. It’s not just the Foundation networks either. Civilian wifi, cell phone signals, even HAM radio, they’re all dead. We can still send transmissions, but with no receiver activity detected, it’s impossible to tell if they’re getting through to anyone. I only recently learned all of this, Andrew called not long ago to fill me in. I’m thankful that the intrasite comms are still functional, or else I’d probably still be in the dark. I don’t think he has time for an in-person visit right now. From how he sounded, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was up all night with the comm technicians trying to fix the issue. He stayed calm and professional as he explained, but his voice betrayed his concern, frayed by exhaustion in a manner I am all too familiar with. He finished by stating that tonight’s festivities have been officially postponed until this issue is sorted out, and that he will be announcing a sitewide extrazonal lockdown in the near future, so I’ll have to stay on site grounds for the time being. He actually apologized to me for the inconvenience. Poor guy, an excellent leader, but considerate to a fault sometimes. Two sides of a coin, I suppose. I offered to help in any way I can, but he shut that idea down immediately. I heard a commotion of some kind in the background, and a few pieces clicked in my head. I asked him what time the comms went down, what exact time, but he wouldn’t say. He told me not to worry, but suggested I stay in my quarters and keep to myself for the time being. Then he hung up. In all honesty, I feel somewhat indignant over being relegated to such an idle position. I suspect that he omitted significant aspects of the current situation; malfunctioning comms alone wouldn’t necessitate the imposition of a universal and indefinite lockdown protocol. I don’t know what exactly is happening, but I’m sure it’s somehow worse than he’s letting on. It makes sense to keep things under wraps until he fully understands the situation, so as not to cause panic among the general staff, but I would think our close affiliation would warrant some exemption from such measures. In any case, I have decided to respect his wishes, as forcefully interjecting myself would only illustrate that I don’t trust his judgment, and what would that say about my endorsement of him as my successor? No, I’ll heed his advice and stay put, at least for tonight. Maybe we’ll both be able to see things more clearly after a good night’s sleep. _ - WIP#4- 03/05/2007 The sun never rose this morning. It got to the point when the first dull gray light creeps over the skyline, then it just stopped. The moon paused too, around the same time, stuck at its highest point in the sky. I strongly suspect that the rest of the earth outside of PrimeSite-O is also temporally frozen, but it's hard to tell since we’re surrounded by nothing but empty desert. Fortunately our clocks still work, so I can at least tell what time it’s supposed to be. For the sake of simplicity, as well as preserving at least some of my sanity, I’m going to continue logging these entries into my touchpad under the progressive dating format. For all intents and purposes, today is March 5th, and “tomorrow” will be March 6th. It may be wrong, but it’s what I’m used to, and at this point I need all the comfort I can get. Writing feels like my only reprieve from the now-undeniable severity of what is unfolding across the site. I awoke around 6am, not long after the freeze from what I can tell. I groggily struggled to get my bearings amid the sound of rapid footsteps emanating across the -Res building and shouting from outside —Evidently, most of the staff had beaten me to the realization—, along with another sound beneath it all, the source of which I couldn’t place. A constant, faint, high-pitched ringing. It continues even now, omnipresent and unwavering. Not wishing to ponder the implications of this, I turned down the volume on my hearing aids, and to my relief it dampened accordingly. As such, I figured that it was just a technological glitch, like the feedback when I entered the zone, or the comms blackout. At least, that’s what I hoped it was. With Andrew’s advice still in mind, I stayed in my quarters at first, trying my best to ascertain the situation from the vantage point of my window. I saw a jumble of personnel running, driving, carrying various objects. Their movements portrayed a confused and frantic energy, but they were too far to make out any finer details or discern any context. Moreover, the window was growing foggy, further obfuscating the scene. I tried calling Andrew’s mobile comm, but there was no response, and that was my tipping point. I had to go out there. Between the darkness and overall mayhem, it was easy to keep a low profile once I left the building. Following the primary current of personnel, I reached the epicenter of the commotion: the Eastern perimeter gate, the same one I entered just a few days ago. The gate was not only open, but missing its doors entirely. Large portions of the adjacent fencing had also been demolished. Scientific equipment of just about every variety was being set up along the edge of the zone: sonar, radar, Kant Counters, Remote SRDs, and many more esoteric ones I couldn’t name on sight. Occasionally, I’d see people throwing objects over the border, mostly just rocks they picked up off the ground, though I saw one fellow shooting a firearm erratically into the surrounding darkness before being restrained. I didn’t understand why, as I saw nothing but the empty desert beyond the perimeter. Then it hit me: I saw nothing, including the objects being thrown. None of the rocks launched across the divide hit the ground on the other side. It was hard to tell exactly what happened to them in the poor lighting, but it was clearly something anomalous. With this realization, my stress level finally felt synchronized with the surrounding atmosphere. It was then that I was able to make out Andrew’s face among the turbulent crowd. Even in the moonlight, I could tell he was abnormally pale. He wore his quintessential stone-faced expression, the one I’ve seen him don during many previous crises. Upon seeing me, he nervously took me aside, asking why I left my quarters. He said I should have called him first, and when I told him I had, several times in fact, he took out his comm unit and sighed. His next words bored a pit of anxiety into my stomach: “Sorry, guess I couldn’t hear it over the ringing”. He casually pointed to one ear as he said it, as if he had long since moved past that particular phenomenon. I, on the other hand, had still been clinging to the formerly unfalsifiable notion that it was the result of my hearing aids malfunctioning. With the passive admission that he could hear it too, my grip on that comforting assumption was severed, and my mind felt momentarily adrift. His subsequent statements felt distant and surreal, as he proceeded to explain the current state of affairs. Apparently, in the hours following the start of the communication blackout, several employees of Level-0 Clearance (mostly janitorial) left the site at the end of their shifts as they normally would, but both they and their vehicles vanished from visible existence immediately upon crossing the perimeter. Security cameras recorded these events, but in a blunder of bureaucratic oversight, they weren’t brought to Andrew’s attention until several hours later, after almost every Level-0 shift had concluded. He tried to restrict knowledge of this development to a need-to-know basis, so as not to cause alarm, as well as to allow himself the small possibility of rescuing them. He failed on both accounts, as he made no headway in determining their fate, and the recent time freeze revealed our anomalous circumstances to everyone, which quickly led to the other peculiar phenomena coming out of the bag as well. Although he was largely professional and matter-of-fact during this explanation, it was clear from slight falters in his tone that the disappearances weighed heavily on him. I tried to offer reassurances, hindsight is 20/20, anomalies are unpredictable by definition, but I knew they wouldn’t get through to him. I’ve offered the same impotent platitudes to myself on many occasions. They don’t work, yet you can’t help but try. You hold out hope that the rationality of these statements will somehow cut through the impermeable guilt you feel, but it never does. I’m sure we’re both used to the cycle by now. To his credit, the uncertainty he felt was revealed only to me. Once he got a hold of a megaphone and connected to the sitewide intercoms, he resumed the pretense of poise and authority necessary to manage the growing hysteria. He delegated the tasks of performing routine containment and maintenance procedures, which obviously cannot be neglected despite the circumstances. He laid out a system of food rationing, and instructed personnel to deep-freeze whatever perishables are present on site (including the buffet, not that that matters anymore). He divided the remaining staff into four encampments, each assigned to one quadrant of the perimeter, and gave instructions for a more methodical study of its properties, with he himself overseeing activities on the Eastern face. I worked alongside him for the next several hours, mainly taking baseline readings with the Remote SRD, while he and the rest of his cohort tried more conventional mediums of detection. Unfortunately, these endeavors were fruitless; none of our measurements differed from those obtained during the zone’s initial study. With each informational dead end, the sense of unease within our group rose palpably. There was an elephant in the room, and I could tell from the looks I got from his assistants that it was me. Who can blame them? They surely know all of this started when I arrived, that somehow this is my fault. Even I can’t deny the correlation, and it’s pretty much the only clue we have as to why this could be happening. Though the tension was increasingly evident, likely exacerbated by fraying nerves and the constant ubiquitous ringing, no one dared to acknowledge it explicitly, at least not in Andrew’s presence. I got the sense that they had broached this topic with him before, and that it had been unequivocally shut down. After all, there is only one solution that can be drawn from this line of thought, one that he understandably doesn’t want to resort to, at least not yet. Though I appreciated his consideration for my well-being, I felt the weight of responsibility in the staff’s expectant gazes, and I knew I couldn’t justify upholding my safety at their expense. I realized what I had to do. As the staff prepared to send a drone across the border, I took a moment to internally process the situation, coming to terms with the potentially imminent conclusion of my existence as best as one possibly can. Once ready, I cleared my throat, becoming the locus of their collective attention. No explanation was necessary, as context rendered my intentions recognizable to all. Andrew started to speak, no doubt formulating persuasions to the contrary, but I cut his attempt short, assuring him that it was okay, that this was for the best. I thanked everyone for their hospitality, told them it had been a pleasure working with them, and walked backward toward the perimeter. Composed as I was, I was of course still terrified of the prospect of what awaited me beyond, and I wanted my final view to be of those I would hopefully save with my sacrifice, with my eyes focussing on Andrew in particular. However, whatever heroic comforts ran through my mind in those moments were abruptly halted, as my back hit a solid, impenetrable barrier at the point of my expected transition. The crowd’s immediate disappointment was obvious, as I foolishly pressed myself harder against the invisible wall. While this definitively proved that I was personally linked to our anomalous circumstances, the discovery brought little comfort, as the solution that everyone had, implicitly or not, placed their hopes in was clearly inviable. Back to square one, they solemnly returned their efforts to the drone. While the remote feedback system was being calibrated, Andrew ushered me away from the others and discreetly handed me his personal Level-4 Clearance keycard. He said I should stay in his private quarters until further notice, that he’d keep in touch through his comms and inform me of any new developments that arise out here. I was reluctant to accept this for several reasons, not the least of which is that card-sharing is strictly against protocol, but he pointed out the extenuating nature of these circumstances (an undeniable truth to which I had no rebuttal), and assured me that he can just input his keycode manually to bypass any restrictions. I was going to protest further, indicating my desire to assist in resolving our shared predicament, but he seemed to anticipate this. He explained that his room has a L4-locked computer interface, through which I would have unrestricted access to the Foundation Research Database, so I should try combing through the 8416 files for information that could shed light on our dilemma. He said I have a more thorough understanding of this anomaly than anyone else, so if anyone can figure something out, it’s me. I’m sure this praise was strategic to some extent, intended to ease my mind as I was once again pushed to the sidelines, but he did have a point. My physical presence at the border was apparently useless, so perhaps my efforts would be better spent studying this phenomenon in a remote capacity. So that’s where I am now, sitting at the desk in Andrew’s private office. This place is nicer than my former accommodations, but not extravagantly so. There’s a bathroom, a microwave, a minifridge with enough frozen food to last at least a few days, and a queen-size bed, not that I’ll be using the latter; I am a guest, afterall. I’ll sleep on the couch, that is, if I even sleep in the first place. So far the ringing has kept me wide awake. It seems to be getting progressively louder, though that could just be an illusory perception on my part. Turning down my hearing aids helps, at least for a bit, but I’m trying to do so sparingly. I don’t want to miss a call from Andrew, or some other important sound. As promised, I can view every archived document relating to 8416 through his desktop computer, all the way back to the 60’s. Many are of my own making, but it’ll still pay to refresh my memory. There’s also a bookshelf containing every scholarly publication I’ve ever authored, chronologically organized, neatly positioned, and in fresh condition. Encountering them so unexpectedly, the cumulative product of my lifelong career in memetic research, is as surreal as it is flattering, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given our longstanding rapport. I’ll be sure to incorporate them into my research as well, at least the earlier ones that primarily cover 8416. Putting my thoughts down in this journal has helped me process the day’s events, but it’s time I stop procrastinating. I intend to dedicate all of my further time and energy to studying this matter. I won’t stop until I’ve discovered a solution. The answer must be hidden somewhere in the prior data, I just have to find it. _ - WIP#5- 03/06/2007 There must be something, right? I’ve found myself muttering that phrase on a loop for the last several hours as I repeatedly comb through the research archives, as if this desperate mantra could somehow bring the truth of the statement into existence, but it’s no use. The deeper I dig, the clearer the futility of my efforts become. There are no documented cases of macroscopic temporal or spatial distortions relating to 8416. There’s plenty of information about its sub-planck warping properties, of course. We have a decent grasp of that thanks to the SRD. But that’s the thing, ordinary devices can’t detect 8416 because they are made of the very fabric of reality that it distorts. But something has changed, and now we can detect its influence. I can see the static night sky, held in place by the moon's pivotal beam for days on end. I can observe how anything that escapes its clutches is enveloped by total nothingness. I can hear its incessant goddamn ringing, foiling any attempt to sleep no matter how exhausted I get. The only definitive conclusion I can draw is that we no longer exist within standard macrospace. We’ve been marooned inside a planck-second, wedged into a crevice between units of existence. It brought us here, to its domain, the unseen, the unknown. We’re operating under its rules now, and I have no idea how to break free of them. I haven’t seen Andrew in person since he directed me to stay here, but from what he’s said over his last few calls, things on his end are growing just as dire. He’s tried everything he can think of to understand the border phenomenon: drones (both land and air, RC and autonomous), analog measuring tools fastened to ropes to drag them back inside, all types of lab animals available in the research wing. The result is always the same; once they cross, they’re gone for good. He’s also tried positioning objects (all mentioned above) directly on the perimeter threshold, and the results, suffice to say, were about as disastrous as you could expect. Essentially, they’ve gained no information whatsoever about what lies outside the zone or the nature of this phenomenon. He even said that, at this point, he can’t be sure whether the surrounding desert and sky, as they appear from within, are actually present. So far, he’s been somewhat successful in maintaining a tone of confidence and conviction while giving these updates, but the cracks started to show during his most recent contact, an involuntary quiver of fear infiltrating his speech. He’s out of ideas, and I fear that I am too Fueled by our mutual lack of success, an omnipresent atmosphere of looming hopelessness has descended upon me over the course of the past several hours, searing further into my thoughts with each fruitless file I read, and yet I can’t bring myself to stop. I feel like, if I lose this momentum, I’ll be left with nothing. Just me and that despicable moon, with its merciless goddamn ringing. Taxing as it is to endure, I refuse to let it consume me. I swear to whatever being could possibly hear me over this wretched howl, I won’t stop until I’ve vanquished its creator. I will break it before it breaks me. I will bring silence. I wouldn’t even be writing this if that fucking fog hadn’t stalled my investigation. It hit the windows first, making it gradually harder to see what’s going on outside. Certainly unusual for the Australian outback, but it seemed trivial at the time compared to everything else going on. I began to grow concerned, however, when it started appearing on the bathroom mirror. I hadn’t used the shower or anything, I barely left the archives long enough for a necessary piss break. I rubbed my finger along its surface, but it didn’t wipe off like you’d expect. It couldn’t be on the other side, as the mirror is directly affixed to the wall, and of course it wouldn’t be visible from my side regardless. That left only one possibility: it must be forming inside the glass itself. It was then, perfectly timed as though to accentuate the gravity of this conclusion, that I noticed it forming on the computer. Given the preceding pattern of the windows and mirror, it was clear that the screen would continue to increase in opacity until it was rendered essentially inoperable, a realization that, in that moment, nearly crushed my will entirely. I’d still be able to read through my printed publications, of course, but doing so has thus far been equally ineffective, and the amount of available data therein is exponentially limited in comparison to the entire digital database. I know this is irrational, probably the sleep deprivation talking, but it feels like an attack directed at me personally. As if the moon’s continued capacity to allude my understanding wasn’t satisfactory enough, it had to add insult to injury and thwart my primary means of even trying to learn about it. One last ‘fuck you!’ to cap off a day of uninterrupted failure. Of course, I’ve since learned that the phenomenon isn’t exclusive to me. According to Andrew’s last update, it’s affecting all glass on-site, disabling almost every security camera and computer terminal. Only a few devices have been spared; apparently, the latest Foundation-issued models are made with some kind of transparent plastic instead of glass, but -O has been slow to phase in the updated tech. He’s trying his best to allocate them for maintaining essential operations, but for the most part we’ve gone completely dark. In perhaps my only stroke of good fortune today, it seems the mobile touchpad I use to log these journal entries is one of the new, unaffected models. I tried transferring as many files from the archive as I could onto it before the terminal’s screen was completely obfuscated, but I was informed that my ‘external device is not authorized to download’ anything but the fully unrestricted, Standard-Clearance precursory description files. However, there was an adjacent printer that was authorized, so in a final, desperate gambit, I decided to print as many documents as I could, first using up all the blank printer paper, then finding already-printed pages around Andrew’s office and reprinting over them. I didn’t have time to debate which files to prioritize, but I think I ended up with a relatively even mix of documents that I’d read and thought potentially useful and new documents that looked promising based on their titles alone. I’m writing this while the printer is catching up on the last few files I selected. The screen’s all white now, so this will be it, just me and this mess of papers. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT I’m such an idiot!!!! I was so frantic in trying to outpace the fog, I didn’t bother to connect or organize the pages after they emerged. I just knocked the whole goddamn pile off the table. They’re everywhere now, fucking everywhere, blanketing the entire fucking floor. IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _ - WIP#6- 03/07/2007 I can’t do it. I just can’t do it. I’ve looked at the information from every conceivable angle, explored every possible connection. I’ve literally coated the entirety of Andrew’s apartment in paper, tied together by thumbtacks and dental floss like some worn out conspiracy cliche, and I’m still no closer to finding a solution. If anything, I’ve only become more confused, lost in a web of data that makes less sense with each assessment. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, can't even sit alone with my thoughts for a single fucking second without feeling like I’ll go mad from the moon’s accursed screeching. You’d think I would have learned to subconsciously tune it out by now, being just a single continuous sound, but no, of course not. It won’t let me. It refuses to be ignored, growing steadily louder by the hour, by the minute even, always one step ahead of my mind, constantly rising just above my minimum perceptual threshold into the realm of conscious awareness. I can adjust my hearing aids to make them quieter, and I have done so several times at this point, but it brings only a moment of reprieve, as the sound once again begins its ceaseless trek up the decibel scale. My brain, in an ultimate act of betrayal, is perfectly willing and able to adjust to accommodate the lower volume, rapidly resensitizing until I return to a dreadful equilibrium with that torturous scream. Anguish, vitriol, existential dread, it’s all compressed into that ceaseless and all-consuming howl, scraping away at my psyche with each passing moment like a sharp yet rusty knife. Until now, my determination to pursue the nature of the wailing moon and uncover its weaknesses was my mind’s only refuge. The illusion of agency, of hope, like an island in a storm, but it’s gone now. I’ve turned to writing this journal entry, sprawled on Andrew’s bed amid an entanglement of interlacing floss, in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. The medium of written word is the only outlet through which I can still think at all; rereading my previous statements allows me to combat the constant interruption of my train of thought, at least for now. So here I will remain, inside this hallowed plastic screen, until… well, that I don’t know. I no longer believe that Andrew or someone else out there will find a way to resolve this, either. From the messages he’s sent, along with the continual sounds of distress and interpersonal conflict emanating from beyond the marbled windows, I’ve gathered that things have essentially gone to shit all over the site. I stopped receiving calls from Andrew nearly a day ago —I presume his comm unit was composed of glass— but I know he’s still (relatively) okay, or at least he was fairly recently. He’s been sending updates through his printer. Whenever the green light turns on and a dinging sound is made, the only stimuli left that can incentivize me to leave this bed, I feed it a few pages of the documents hanging from the walls, and I receive a partially-obfuscated but still somewhat legible message. At first I was highly selective about which papers to sacrifice for this process, back when I still thought I could fix this, but that ship has sailed, so now I just pick ones with a decent amount of blank space remaining. Deciphering the messages requires a bit of scrutiny due to the frequent obstruction of words and sentences, but I think I at least get the gist of what’s been happening across the rest of the site, and it’s nothing good. Moot as it may be, I’ll try my best to summarize here; perhaps compiling the chaos into a comprehensive synopsis will help to validate my newfound nihilism and provide some sort of twisted catharsis. Andrew’s efforts to experiment with the zone perimeter have pretty much ceased entirely, as he has become increasingly occupied by “exit” attempts from various personnel. It seems many of those without the luxury of decrepit cochleas have been affected by the moon’s abhorrent keening even more acutely than I have. As of now, somewhere between 20-29% of the site’s occupants (can’t make out the second digit) have either successfully left the zone, or have become “compromised” (unclear what exactly he means by that) to the point of necessitating medical commitment. So far, the primary approach for handling such cases has been forcible sedation, but the medical wing is close to running out of the requisite drugs. He suspects that some of the associated staff have been stealing them for their own benefit, but he can’t afford to focus on that. He’s stretched way too thin as it is. Even among the personnel who have thus far kept their sanity, it’s becoming progressively harder to maintain order. There is talk of trying to use certain anomalies held onsite (didn’t go into specifics) to combat whatever’s happening, but Andrew is drawing a hard line against any such attempts, which I think is a wise choice. Still, with people growing increasingly desperate, he fears it’s only a matter of time before they stop accepting his authority altogether. People have also been asking about me; where I am, if I’m still alive, etc. He’s thus far managed to avoid answering these questions, but they are only getting more persistent with each dismissive response he gives. The subtext of their queries is pretty clear: since I’m somehow the cause of all of this, and I can’t physically exit the zone, that leaves only one remaining way to get rid of me and potentially free them from this purgatory. It’s a somewhat logical conclusion, one that I’ve considered myself a time or two, but have not yet mustered the courage to enact. It’s one thing to walk through an invisible boundary and vanish into thin air, my ultimate fate unknown, but to accept a traditional death, with all the fear and pain and unquestionable finality it brings, ignites millions of years of instinctual opposition within me. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I am only human. As of now, that’s the extent of the information I can glean from Andrew’s messages. He hasn’t sent any more in a while, but I’ve preemptively loaded the printer for when he (hopefully) does. The closing statement of his last communication “STAY PUT” was brief yet telling. Even amidst the growing turmoil, he still isn’t willing to sacrifice my safety. I don’t know if that’s admirable or idiotic. I guess probably both. The same dichotomy permeates much of what he’s disclosed to me. Given his most recent endeavors, it seems he still believes we can find a way to stop this nightmare. While my impulse is to view this notion as utterly naive, I can’t help but acknowledge a certain level of respect for it as well. Ultimately, I recognize it as a reflection of the very same traits that originally convinced me of his aptitude for leadership; discipline, tenacity, courage, everything needed to weather the storms that so frequently brew in our line of work. If only the storm we’re facing here could be weathered, what I now see as pointless conviction could have been our salvation. He would have made a great EDICT, better than I was, if he’d only had the chance. I know this with certainty, but due to this sadistic twist of fate, no one else ever will. I hope at least he does. _ - WIP#7- 03/08/2007 What have I done? What have I done? what have I done? what have I done? How could I have been so careless? So selfish? Andrew was my friend, he trusted me. He did everything he could to protect me, and yet, when the time came to return the favor, I didn’t answer the call. I didn’t even fucking hear it. Today was the tipping point. Part of me knew it was coming, we’ve been teetering on the edge of total anarchy for some time now, but I must shamefully admit that the final straw that broke the camel’s back caught me completely off guard. The fog on the glass wasn’t fog, that much was clear, but my foolish egocentrism blinded me to its true nature until it was too late. In the throes of emotional turmoil and sleep deprivation, I came to think of it as an individualized punishment borne of active malice, as if the moon was actually concerned enough about my efforts to escape its grasp to warrant intentionally stymying my research. Of course it wasn’t; it knew the endeavor was futile. If anything, the fog’s formation was an act of mercy, a display of lunar solidarity, intended to convey the true inevitability of the fate we now face alongside it, the curse of utter irrelevance that binds us together in this asomatous purgatory, made manifest through that pervasive, torturous howl. It’s all the howl, it was always the howl. If only I had heeded its premonitions, truly examined the message that its vociferous voice was figuratively transcribing across my screen. I would have seen the microfractures. I would have known what was coming. It was only through arbitrary, undeserved luck that I was left relatively unscathed by the event. If I had been sitting at Andrew’s desk at the time, or just happened to be taking a shit, I probably wouldn’t be writing this now. Instead, I was on his bed, far from the windows, staring blankly at an array of meaningless documents, my consciousness rendered nearly inert by days of sleeplessness and screaming, when my stasis was punctured by the jarringly sharp sound of a single, resounding crack. Even without my hearing aids, which by then I had fully deactivated, it was still the most startling noise I have ever perceived, and the first in several days to closely contend with the scream itself, if only for an instant. As I soon realized, it was the sound of all glass across the site, every pane, screen, and lens, shattering at once. Even now, it still echoes through the cavernous recesses of my psyche. It was indescribable. The threat it posed was not limited to the initial shatter itself. The resulting shards were so fine that they floated through the air like clouds of dust. Soon my eyes began to water, and my throat began to itch. Before even fully comprehending the situation, I had pulled the bed sheet over my nose and mouth, and was frantically trying to fan the clouds away with a pillow, though to little success. I tried to direct them outside through what were formerly the windows, but with each moment of sight came an unbearable stinging across my retinas, forcing me to primarily operate through what little spatial memory my fatigued brain could muster. The encompassing network of taut, interlacing floss didn’t help either, causing me to stumble and collapse several times. In hindsight, that was a laughably stupid idea, another truth to which my exhaustion had previously blinded me Though my body was largely spared, my mind was equivalently shredded upon reaching the window, as I beheld the exponential catastrophe unfolding across the site. Though I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) get a good look, my ears illustrated the scene in sickening detail, as the moon’s infernal shriek seemed to somehow accentuate the sounds of staff less fortunate than I. Strange as it may be, I had grown accustomed to the sporadic bouts of yelling and crying that had become commonplace over the last few days, as people’s nerves were steadily corroded by the ceaseless howl. It was understandable, comforting even, and in the face of what I now heard, it was sorely missed. It would have been a relief to know their vocal cords were still intact enough to function. Instead, I was met with a cacophony of hoarse, gasping breaths. Their coughs and chokes congealed into a collective roar, the discordant chorus interspersed with occasional splashing sounds that I still dare not link to any visual conception. Their anguished rasps rose in tandem, harmonizing with the moon to create an immeasurable and all-consuming symphony of suffering. If we were in purgatory before, then this must be Hell. By the time I had sufficiently cleared the residence of glasseous particulates such that I could keep my eyes open (at least somewhat), it was all I could manage to plop myself into Andrew’s bed. I really am an old man, past my prime, that’s been made irrefutably clear. Every muscle and joint in my body burned from the exertion. I remained winded for an unexpectedly long time, struggling to compensate for the oxygen deficit accrued from such relatively mild physical labor (granted, inhaling through the filter of a bedsheet certainly didn’t help). My fatigue was exacerbated by the stinging blotches of red, irritated skin that coated my forearms, no doubt embedded with thousands of infinitesimal shards that I probably still haven’t fully removed. And yet, these physical discomforts felt distant to me. Having already resigned myself to this torturous existence, this unending scream, I felt that the last remaining remnants of my will to act at all had been expended in the final burst of motion catalyzed by the shatter, by the prospect of compounding my suffering with the breath of a million smothering razors. Such concerns now seemed trivial, and I decided at that moment that I would passively accept whatever additional agony was thrust upon me next. I would let it consume me, and doing so would be moot, as I had already been consumed. This cynical conviction, however, turned out not to be absolute. There was a single remaining circumstance that would break me from my vow of dormancy. One that, in my state of bottomless self-pity, I had not anticipated. Maybe if I had held a different mental state, if the strength to persevere had come to me sooner, the following events would have transpired differently. I’ll never know, but I’ll always wonder. It’s a weight I’ll carry to the grave, if not further, and it’s a weight I undoubtedly deserve. The encroaching mob became known to me through vibrations long before my enfeebled ears could detect it. Doors slamming, footsteps pounding, improvised melee weaponry banging. I felt them working their way through the building like a localized storm, reverberating through the layers of floor and mattress and into my flesh and bones, and yet I didn’t react. I remember thinking to myself, to the extent that I was able or willing to think at all, that if this was the fate to befall me, then so be it. It wasn’t just about me, though. Of course it wasn’t. I was selfish, I was stupid, and yet, in a work of cruel, cosmic irony, I am still here. I couldn’t discern the leading twin echoes of Andrew’s hurried footsteps, as they were fully absorbed into the rumbling of the stampede which followed closely behind. It wasn’t until the acoustic amalgam neared the front door, and I saw the locking mechanism deactivate, indicating a successful keycode input, that the notion of his presence even crossed my mind. The thought sprung me to my feet with a vigor I had deemed unattainable only moments before, but it was too late. Andrew entered successfully, a few seconds ahead of the ensuing riot. He would have had time to close the door behind him, surely buying us at least enough time to devise a plan of escape, if it weren’t for the knee-high length of dental floss that happened to pass in front of the entryway. Of all the eventualities he may have considered, succumbing to what was essentially a makeshift booby trap within his own home certainly wasn’t one of them. He went down hard and flat, his nose buckling against the floor in an unnatural manner that made my entire body instinctively recoil. The mob was instantly upon him, though they too were largely hindered by the array of minty tripwires, resulting in an amorphous heap of flailing heads and limbs. In those initial, crucial moments of confusion, Andrew lifted his head to look at me, eyes unfocused, blood streaming down his face. He barked a single, strained syllable, only barely breaking through the moon’s lamentous howl, before being engulfed by the writhing horde: PRINT It’s hard for me to recall my exact train of thought following this event. My memories are chronicled through the lens of actions, as my body’s intuition seemed to take the helm. I don’t know if I truly understood what Andrew was trying to tell me, or if I simply tried to flee before the enraged crowd regained their bearings. Regardless, I ended up barricading myself in his office, where I found what I presume was the subject of his allusion. At some point, the printer had transposed a single additional page, yielding a final message. Though cryptically worded, it was clearly discernible among the layers of prior text by virtue of both its font size and brevity: RN ENCY VOL 6-7 KEYCARD < - - - - As my weary, deteriorated brain struggled to make sense of the note, my eyes impulsively followed the arrow’s trajectory, landing on the bookshelf. I’d removed many of the more relevant publications during my useless research venture, but some remained untouched. Their proud exhibition of my name embellished in gold across each spine now felt almost mocking, juxtaposed with the undeniable impotence of my expertise over the preceding days. Nearest to the arrow, my gaze fell upon the latter installments of what I’d once considered my crowning achievement: The Encyclopedia of Referential Negation: a Comprehensive Collection of Terms, Research, & Documented Instances. Volumes VI and VII stood erect, the narrow crevice between them slightly wider than the rest, and I noticed for the first time a parallel groove running along the supporting shelf, the deepest layer of which glinted with a distinctly metallic sheen. At that moment, every disjointed fragment of information somehow coalesced within my hypnagogic mind, and the entirety of Andrew’s communication attained clarity. At once I became deeply engaged with fulfilling his instructions, and any awareness of the frenzied pack of personnel repeatedly ramming the door was excised from the realm of conscious thought. I withdrew Andrew’s Level-4 Clearance keycard from the pants pocket where it had been stored for almost 4 straight days at that point, and swiped it through the dubious fissure. Nothing happened at first, long enough to trigger a brief spark of gaslight within me, before it was extinguished by a mechanical rumbling beneath my feet. My already precarious balance was nearly lost as a square segment of the floor retracted into the adjacent wall, revealing the entrance to a vertical concrete shaft, with a procession of protruding metal rungs descending an unknown distance into its shadowy depths. This development caused my threadbare burst of focus to briefly falter, and I was momentarily paralyzed as I gazed into the newly exposed abyss. The classic hidden door cliche had briefly crossed my mind as I swiped the card, but I hadn’t truly considered it as a possibility. It’s presence invoked as many questions as it answered, but I could scarcely afford to ponder them, as the crack of splintering wood and severing door hinges swiftly reminded me. choosing speed over grace, I half-climbed, half-plummeted down the tunnel, which was fortunately not as deep as its unilluminated obscurity had initially suggested. At the bottom, a big, red button jutted from the wall, the unambiguous word “CLOSE” glowing softly upon its face. I pressed it without a second thought, and was promptly engulfed in darkness. It seemed my concealment was not a moment too soon, as reverberating footsteps and voices soon flooded the space above me. I don’t know if they saw the final sliver of my escape route as the hatch slid shut, but regardless, they had no success in penetrating the secluded space. Nevertheless, I was initially frozen in shock, not daring to move or even breathe. It wasn’t until their ambiguous banging and unintelligible yet clearly aggressive speech began to dwindle, sinking beneath the unremitting tide of lunar melancholy, that I felt secure enough to survey my surroundings. The cold, concrete room that has become my sanctuary for the time being, is a rather minimalist abode. Its area definitely doesn’t exceed 3 square meters, and the ceiling is slightly lower than my height. Only a sleeping bag and pillow are available for the purposes of tactile comfort, accompanied by a pile of canned food, a few water jugs, and a bucket. There are no light fixtures installed as far as I can tell, only a nonfunctional, lensless flashlight, so I am illuminated solely by the screen of this touchpad. I’m sure that this room would not be considered up-to-code as an official site-standard bunker. With no apparent fallout shielding or long-term amenities, it’s clear that this was devised as more of an under-the-table project. Useful for brief and basic emergencies, with the benefit of Andrew’s sole personal access. I had no prior knowledge of this construction, and I couldn’t help but ponder the numerous unknowns surrounding its existence. Why did Andrew decide to make this? Had it been a preemptive response to an identifiable threat, or simply a generalized cautionary measure? When was it built? How long has it been here? The combined weight of these questions conjured a brief twist of unease in my gut, which was immediately chased by a bitter wave of guilt for having the audacity to think in such a way. After all, I owe my life, or at least what little of it remains, to the presence of this protective measure. The confidentiality afforded by its unofficial inception turned out to be its saving grace. Its rudimentary, one-man capacity proved adequately effective, only in the end it wasn’t the right man. This room was obviously only intended for Andrew’s use, and yet, when it really mattered, he was willing to entrust me with the knowledge necessary to access it. In turn, I’m now solely reaping the benefits of his foresight, while he’s up there going through who knows what. As I lie here, alone in the dark, accompanied by nothing but the cries of the mournful moon and my own inexorable guilt, the ruminations that ceaselessly haunt me revolve around a single factor: how long had that message been printed? Did he send it as soon as he saw the encroaching mob? As soon as the glass shattered? Or was it even earlier? Speculative as it may be, I can’t help but imagine he’d planned for me to fulfill the instructions preemptively, so that the trap door was already open when he arrived. He was counting on me, trusting me, and that’s what led to his demise. He didn’t know how weak I was, how weak I still am. He didn’t know that the scream had worn me down, breaking my will to act long before his. He didn’t know that I had fully disabled my hearing aids, forsaking any hope of hearing the subtle ding of the printer, or any other form of communication, in favor of easing my own suffering. Even now, encapsulated in earth and concrete, smothered by the ramifications of my [SELFISHNESS], I still can’t bring myself to reactivate them. You know, when I first joined the Foundation, I swore an oath to protect humanity. Not just humans, but humanity itself. That’s all I ever really wanted, to protect our species, not just in body but in spirit, to shield them from the horrors that our apathetic universe so frequently thrust upon us, to preserve their collective innocence even at the cost of my own. I’ve spent the last half-century working to fulfill that oath, in my own special way, and before all of this, I thought I had. I thought that made me a good person, and evidently, so did Andrew. I guess we both know better now. _ - WIP#8- SCREW THE DATE Something has shifted. I can’t describe it, there’s no explicit change to put words to, but I can sense it intuitively. At some unknown point during my sleepless, timeless entombment within that secret sepulcher, a threshold was breached. The moon’s cries, though continuous and unchanging, have acquired an asomatous edge of impending finality. Their sorrow has permeated beyond my conscious mind; I feel it in my bones, in my teeth, reverberating through the hollow vestiges of my very being. I am no longer myself. I am nothing more than a vector, channeling the profound and penultimate melancholy of the long-neglected moon. Their pain is my pain. Their pain is me. I am pain. I am only pain. Under the reflexive guidance of this cosmic affliction, I was wordlessly prompted to ascend from my pit of fermented repentance, birthed from that woeful womb as a new and alien entity. I numbly gazed across the office, in heavy disarray, but entirely devoid of people, living or dead. The same conditions had befallen the rest of Andrew’s quarters; collapsed and broken furniture, adorned with crumpled documents and tinseled with interlacing dental floss. Occasional bloodstains dotted the wreckage, the only biological remnants of the preceding altercation which now felt an eternity away. The largest crimson sigil marked the location of Andrew’s initial toppling, a cardinal reminder of his both literal and figurative downfall. The residence seemed to exude an innate judgment upon me, a monument to my failure as a scientist, EDICT, and friend. On some level, I was cognizant of these crushing criticisms, but the emotional burden they invoked was of little significance, as the waves of guilt were merely funneled into the already bottomless pit of despair within me. I left and didn’t look back. Under the night’s watchful eye, I aimlessly wandered among the ruins of PrimeSite-O, further absorbing the grief of seeing the fruits of my career in shambles. The hazardous haze of microscopic daggers that had incited the violence of the previous day, having long since diffused across the atmosphere of the zone, was now only alluded to by the total absence of any glass on the premises. Additionally, the site was densely interspersed with far more conspicuous evidence of its prior descent into anarchy. Conventional damage, presumably man-made in origin, was the most prevalent, but some scenes of destruction implied undoubtedly anomalous involvement, particularly near the Euclid and Keter containment facilities. Despite these ominous indicators, my surroundings remained still and devoid of activity. Once again, I encountered no people or deceased remains thereof, and I was eventually faced with the uncomfortable realization that I was the only one left. I get it now, the moon’s message, the reason I was trapped here while everyone else could leave. They’ve taken everything from me: My friends, my career, my research acumen, my moral integrity, my self-worth. The collective achievements of my lifetime, gradually excised by that rending howl. It wasn’t until I was fully stripped bare that I could truly understand the depths of their anguish. They suffered in solitude for so long, but now I share the weight of their burden. They’ve molded a companion out of me, their oldest friend, the first to notice the imperceptible cries they futilely beamed upon the Earth. I now have nothing left to give but the vacant husk of my physical form, and only now will they take that too. That leaves me here, in the front seat of my windowless car, staring through the dilapidated fence and into the empty expanse beyond. I know I’ll pass through it this time, but not what awaits me on the other side. Maybe I’ll enter the moon’s solacing embrace, or maybe I’ll meet total oblivion. In the end, the outcome is irrelevant; I can’t avoid it, nor do I want to. I’ve stalled long enough by writing this, though I can’t say why. Closure, perhaps. A farewell to my loyal confidant within this screen, before I proceed to the one in the sky. I’m ready now. It’s time for me to go. _ - WIP#9- 03/04/2007(?) Wow, I didn’t expect to ever write in this again. I really thought yesterday’s entry would be my last. Yet here I am, alive and unscathed, feeling better than ever, in fact. It’s amazing what a difference a nice long nap can make. Now that I’m (reasonably) rested and alert, all recollections of my thoughts and emotions over the preceding days appear fuzzy and nonsensical, as if the whole experience was nothing more than a long, nightmarish dream. If it weren’t for my journal chronicling the ordeal in extensive and vivid detail, I might have even assumed that’s all it was. It’s hard to believe that less than 24 hours ago, I was speeding toward the site’s perimeter, fully prepared for death, or possibly something even worse. The threshold embodied a truly absolute unknown. Clearly anomalous, the possibilities were infinite. Every conceivable outcome, as well as all inconceivable ones, were equally likely. I didn’t care at the time, of course, broken as my psyche was. I was accepting of any eventuality, or at least I thought I was. As it turned out, there was one potential result that could still catch me off-guard. Given my recent pervasive record of ignorance regarding these phenomena, it’s only fitting that it turned out to be accurate: Nothing happened to me at all. Upon fully crossing the border, I found myself to still be physically present, in the Australian outback, upon the same road I was using moments before. There were no unusual sensations like there were when I initially entered. No double-vision, no vertigo, no internal registry of the transition whatsoever. The event, or lack thereof, left me momentarily frozen in a state of thorough confusion. As such, it took me a moment to notice the few changes that had in fact occurred. Primesite-O was gone. As soon as I passed through the gates, the entire campus instantly and unceremoniously vanished. Instead, there was only the road, the same one I was traveling on, extending opposite to my trajectory for an unclear distance. Preternatural as this alteration was, it was promptly overshadowed by the only other noticeable change: The howl had stopped. Its cessation was abrupt, as though a switch was flipped precisely at the moment I crossed the border. Despite this, my ears initially struggled to comprehend its absence. I reactivated my hearing aids, cranked them as high as they could go, and still there was nothing, nothing at all. Until then, I had never truly understood how silence could be deafening, but the seemingly nonsensical turn of phrase perfectly captures my subsequent experience. The relief, the sheer euphoria induced by the auditory vacuum, was overwhelming. Its influence felt almost chemical in nature, and despite the smooth and unwavering trail before me, I felt the need to pull over while I acclimated to its intoxicating effects. I don’t know how long I stayed there, basking in the blissful calm of my empty, silent surroundings. Time felt ethereal to me in that state. Through the aperture that had once held my windshield, I watched the glowing, indigo tinge of dawn slowly creep across the sky, as the sun which had been halted for so long was finally granted passage across the horizon. The moon, content at last, began shifting to accommodate their fiery twin. There was something else, though, something more to the moon’s amended demeanor than their conclusion of screaming and resumption of motion. Subtle as it was, I’m surprised it took me so long to recognize it, given my lifelong career predicated on lunar research. The topographic arrangement of the dark side of the moon, now turned to face the Earth. Though familiar to me, their newfound illumination granted an additional air of elegance to their craterous contours. The expression was unmistakable; they were smiling. The elation exuded by that dazzling grin was palpable, as their magnificent face was finally revealed for all the world to see. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel happy for them, overjoyed in fact. Their contentment became infused with my own, and its combined potency unwittingly carried me into a deep, cathartic slumber. It was around mid-afternoon when I finally awoke, disoriented by the feeling of sleeping for both far too long and not long enough. My face was comically sunburned, and my car baked to the point that its metal components were untouchably hot. Without windows to insulate the AC, I was left with velocity as the only available means to cool myself and my vehicle. I sped down the single, continuous road for a while, unconcerned with traffic laws, until I finally came upon the promise of shade in the form of a gas station and adjacent convenience store. I’ve decided that this is as good a place as any to stay and wait for backup. I sent a distress signal to the nearest Auxiliary Site up in Kimberly, so they should be dispatching an escort team to pick me up soon, along with a tow truck for the car (It’s still technically functional, but I learned on the drive here that windshields got their name for a damn good reason). I tried my best to give a comprehensive rundown of the calamity that’s befallen PrimeSite-O, but it was understandably difficult through a short-form transmission. If nothing else, they should at least know by now that the site is compromised, since all remote communication was lost a day or so ago from their temporal perspective. There are probably recon units heading there already, not that they’ll find anything. I’ll no doubt be subjected to a lengthy interview process over the coming weeks as this incident is investigated. It’ll be a headache, and certainly not the note I wanted to end my career on, but I suppose I should just be grateful I got back safely at all. Hell, maybe the others did too, and the interviews have already begun. I sure hope that’s the case, but that would be ideal, and in my experience the ideal scenario is usually too good to be true. I guess I’ll find out soon enough. _ - WIP#10- THE END I fucked up. I really, really fucked up. My actions were foolishly naive, that much is obvious now, but there’s no going back. I’ve mulled it over for hours now, but I still don’t see any way out of this. Not even the Foundation can save me now, it seems. As much as I want to deny it, I need to face the facts. My fate is sealed. I waited at that goddamn gas station for hours, but no one came. I tried every official avenue of contact permitted by my clearance level; all the prime and auxiliary site comms, the direct lines of every department I knew, portable MTF receivers, and still no answer. I don’t think they even went through, as I just kept getting no-dial tones. I even tried Andrew’s comm unit, though that unsurprisingly yielded the same result. It’s probably still at the site, wherever that is. Finally, as a last resort, I tried Andrew’s personal phone number. He gave it to me some years ago, during a conference we were running. Strictly against protocol, of course, but it made co-coordinating the event much easier, and I haven’t used it since. From what I’ve been told, he almost never even has it on his person these days, instead keeping it at his rarely-occupied private residence. I knew calling it was a long shot if there ever was one, but to my surprise and relief, he actually picked up. Just hearing his voice immediately made me more relaxed, partly because I was finally in touch with the Foundation in some capacity, but mostly just due to the assurance that he was still alive. I told him as much, but he didn’t return the sentiment. He was unusually deadpan throughout the call, and didn’t seem receptive to any kind of discussion beyond curtly asking where I was and telling me he was on his way. He concluded the interaction by telling me to stay put, repeating it several times in a tone that seemed oddly forceful and deliberate, then hung up as soon as I agreed. In hindsight, it was obvious that something was amiss, but I refused to allow myself to acknowledge it. Not wanting to spoil my newfound comfort, I dismissed his strange demeanor as an understandable symptom of his recent traumatic experiences, or perhaps a concerted effort to maintain discretion while using a civilian line, any excuse that would allow me to stifle the budding concern that was clearly warranted. I know it was stupid, incredibly so, but I had been parked at that gas station for almost an entire day at that point, and my patience had reached its limit. I wanted a bed, I wanted a shower, I wanted to settle this whole fiasco and move on with my life. It was just another in a long list of cases where self-interest has clouded my judgment. It seems I won’t be able to weasel or bunker my way out of this one, though. The consequences have finally come home to roost. At least this time, I’ll be the only one to suffer them. Andrew arrived within the hour, in a car I didn’t recognize, accompanied by a young woman I had never met. Though I was glad to see him in the flesh, seemingly unscathed save for a bandaged nose, I could no longer ignore the intuitive feeling that something wasn’t right. As they exited the vehicle, I noticed his outfit, while professional, lacked his PrimeSite-O Director’s badge or any Foundation insignias, granting him the appearance of an ordinary, albeit well-dressed, civilian. This would make sense in the context of covert operations, and although such endeavors were far outside of Andrew’s qualifications, it was nevertheless forgivable if not somewhat odd. However, the woman’s attire was a stark departure from any Foundation standards: a purple T-shirt, denim jeans, and sneakers. The car they arrived in was similarly informal, with several haphazardly applied decals of unfamiliar yet clearly unofficial origin. As strange as these observations were, my confusion was soon compounded tenfold as I saw a police cruiser pull into the lot, parking alongside them. Two officers emerged, and the four of them conversed with each other for a bit, before Andrew and his unknown companion began to approach. I stood motionless, struggling to process the events unfolding before me. I hoped that Andrew would provide some clarity, but he instead adopted a bystanding position, watching silently as the mystery girl proceeded. Before I had time to react, she hugged me, squeezing my torso and awkwardly immobilizing my arms with a seemingly authentic sincerity. Her following words, the first I’d ever heard from her, served as a final blow of bewilderment, plunging me into a state of disorientation bordering on physical vertigo. “Dad! Where have you been? I was so worried!” She kept talking, but her words were eclipsed by my reeling thoughts. I never had children, never even came close. Looking past her, I centered my sight on Andrew, ejecting a disorganized jumble of questions as my mouth and mind frantically grasped for an iota of understanding. What was going on? Did he report what happened to the higher-ups? What happened back at the site? Where are all the other staff? I searched his face for any sign of understanding, but there was none. He just stared blankly as he repeated my words, his genuine confusion evident in his tone, until Mystery Girl broke my fruitless inquisition. She spoke softly to Andrew, as though I wouldn’t be able to hear, saying that I must think I’m still working with him at U-W-A, giving no elaboration as to what that even is, before returning her attention to me, her face and voice donning a patronizing pretense of simplistic cordiality that only bolstered my burgeoning annoyance. “Dad, you’re retired now, remember? Andrew was nice enough to cancel his lecture today to come get you with me. We’re going home now, okay?”. She held my arm, attempting to lead me back to their car, but I recoiled. I was sick of her interference. I wanted to talk to Andrew, the only person who could possibly explain what the hell was going on. Admittedly, his continued reticence frustrated me to a point of unprofessional and unwise enragement. I pointed out the bandages on his face, shouted about the angry mob that tackled him to the ground right in front of me just a few days ago. This got the attention of the cops, but Andrew merely brushed away my outburst, telling them it was from a bicycling accident. A fucking bicycling accident. I was incredulous. Though their faces remained placid, I could tell that my escalating hostility had put them all on edge. They began to tighten their perimeter around me, the police strategically encircling in both directions, until I was cornered against the side of the convenience store. I came to the bitter realization that, despite the storm of emotions within me, I was faced with no real choice but to capitulate to their desires, whatever they may be. In a final, desperate Hail-Mary, I recalled a trick used by various agents under my employ over the years. Though I’d never had to use it myself, it was essentially common knowledge in the Foundation, something that Andrew, the almost-EDICT, would surely be familiar with. Despite his thoroughly convincing display of ignorance throughout the ordeal, I still held a sliver of hope that it was only a veneer he had assumed, for reasons that I simply wasn’t privy to at the moment. That slight yet steadying prospect was finally obliterated when I asked the question to which he, of all people, should definitely know the answer, and was met with only a resounding silence. The next thing I knew, they had ushered me into the backseat of their civilian vehicle, their counterfeit smiles poorly concealing the compulsory nature of my transport. A tow truck came to collect my rental car, taking it somewhere for repairs. Mystery Girl not only claimed it was her own, but insisted that I wasn’t allowed to be driving at all, admonishing me for its broken windows as if I were a child. Any objections I made to the contrary were outright ignored; the police didn’t say a single word to me directly throughout the whole affair. Stifled by such a brazen disregard for my thoughts and feelings, my furious indignation was eventually extinguished, giving way to a hopeless despondency. I now lay in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar house, and yet I’m surrounded by reflections and impressions of myself. Framed pictures of me, Mystery Girl, and other strangers, hugging and smiling in places I’ve never been, doing things I’ve never done. A PhD with my name on it, from the University of Western Australia, hangs framed on the wall; It’s in literature of all things. A series of books sit upon a shelf, my name embossed along their spines, but they aren’t the same books I found in Andrew’s office. They’re fiction novels, mostly sci-fi/fantasy it seems, and, if I may go so far as to judge a book by its cover, pretty mediocre. I’ve been told the prose in my journal entries tend to lean toward the artistic, if not a bit pretentious. Perhaps there’s some credence to those claims after all. The more I observe my surroundings, telling the story of a life that, logically, I know is not my own, the more strongly I feel, on some innate, primal level, that it could be. These vestiges, echoing stagnant potentials within me, are somehow increasingly contending with my authentic memories. I partially fear, and partially hope, that I will soon lose sight of their distinction. Andrew is long gone at this point, taking any hope of answers with him. He drove away almost immediately after dropping us off at this unassuming, utterly ordinary suburban dwelling that is ostensibly my home, as well as Mystery Girl’s. I thought he’d exit the car as well, that he’d accompany us into the house, at least long enough that I could take him aside and pick his brain for more clues. By the time I realized my mistake, he was already shifting into gear. He gave me nothing more than a “take care” and a look of candid sympathy before driving off to who knows where, leaving me stuck at this random residence, in the hands of this complete stranger who doesn’t even seem to realize she’s a stranger, and, as I soon found out, the aforementioned cops as well. The three of them guided me to “my” bedroom, telling me to get some rest while they had a “private discussion”. I tried to eavesdrop twice, but on both occasions I was quickly discovered and once again directed back to the bedroom. During my first foray, I managed to hear Mystery Girl saying something along the lines of “he’s had episodes before but never this bad”. Her tone portrayed extreme distress. On my second and far briefer venture, I caught one of the cops mentioning “long-term care options” and holding several pamphlets. Mystery girl looked to be on the verge of tears. Upon my latter apprehension, it was clear that their patience had grown thin. One of the cops is standing outside the bedroom door now, so any further attempts at reconnaissance would surely be foiled. Disheartening as it is to accept, I have come to the conclusion that I am, in essence, a prisoner here. The sense of powerlessness invoked by this fact is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Even the worst points of my debacle at PrimeSite-O feel somehow tame in comparison to this moment. The sheer depths of futility I now face, forsaken by the very world that I dedicated my life to trying to protect, is all-consuming. As I lie here, agency abolished, I watch through the window as the moon’s luminous face breaches the skyline, and they, my sole witness, watch me in turn. Their newly-imparted smile, gentle yet potent in its sentiment, is the only tangible indicator of the reality of my former existence, and it occurs to me that I have relieved them of their burden by adopting it as my own. I now occupy the same role in this world that they had for so long: present but unseen. screaming but unheard, unimaginably alone. Is this a form of poetic retribution? I don’t think so; I feel no animosity towards or from my cosmic companion. Rather, I feel a kinship, an immutable bond through the symmetry of our circumstances. I alone was there for them, heard them, and now they alone hear me. Their expression is one of immeasurable gratitude, for they recognize the ultimate sacrifice I’ve made to provide them with the priceless gift of significance. Perhaps it was out of this appreciation that the contents of my touchpad were preserved with relative integrity amid this universal transition. The Standard-Clearance introductory file for SCP-8416 appears largely unchanged, as are my most recent journal entries, though they are all now saved in an unencrypted folder titled “Story WIP”. Not only that, but with the Foundation-issue firewalls now absent, I can connect to the civilian internet. I think this is the moon’s way of reimbursing my lost identity, at least as much as they possibly can. I can post these chronicles for the world to see, sharing my story, my real story, with the inhabitants of this new reality, with the caveat that they will never accept them as true. No one will ever believe these events, my life, my very self to be real. Still, perhaps I don’t have to be real to be remembered. Perhaps my story, even if only a story, can still hold a place in people’s hearts and minds, and isn’t that what really matters? In the end, isn’t that all our reality is? They’re coming up the stairs now. Whatever happens next, I won’t resist. My story is complete, and all I ask of anyone reading this is to please, please remember it. Please remember me. Footnotes 1. From Earth, this means SCP-8416 remains focused on each SCP-8416-1 zone for as long as the moon is visible in the sky from its location, atmospheric conditions notwithstanding. 2. For a complete and detailed list of specific documented narratives, see Supplementary Document 8416.N. 3. See: Analysis of Feedback Mechanism within RN-Positive Memetic Constructs (Rattigan et. al, 1965) 4. A research program dedicated to discovering methods of remote anomaly detection and observation, established in 1948 in order to avoid exacerbating political tensions stemming from the Cold War through direct Foundation interference. 5. This results in approximately 45 seconds of immersion within SCP-8416-1E when traveling downstream on the river at a passive speed. 6. Original message included an attached file titled “8416_Research_Overview_(Rattigan)”. 7. Y:8 N:3 A:1 8. Pronounced like “cue”. 9. Executive Director of International Coordination and Transport 10. Designation of the central residential compound within PrimeSite-O. Contains private domiciles for both temporary and indefinite habitation, as well as communal dining and recreational facilities. 11. Authorized contact channels are listed in the Digital Foundation Directory ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8416" by Wildman8, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8416. 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: DTBMH4-fin1.jpg Name: 527006main farside.1600 Author: NASA/GSFC/Arizona State University License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by Wildman8 Filename: DTBMH16-fin1.jpg Name: Equal Earth projection SW Author: Daniel R. Strebe License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by Wildman8 |
SCP-8416 | thaumiel | Item#: 8416 Level1 Secondary Class: thaumiel Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Map of the moon’s Earth-facing hemisphere, with Emission Sites 1-4 and their corresponding SCP-8416-1 zones labeled in red, yellow, green, and blue respectively Special Containment Procedures: There are currently no sanctioned procedures intended to actively contain SCP-8416 or conceal its existence from the civilian populace, as doing so is considered infeasible and unnecessary, respectively. To date, no known individuals or organizations outside of the Foundation are capable of detecting SCP-8416, through technology or otherwise. If this exclusivity is threatened at any point in the future, the Veil Maintenance Department will be tasked with suppression and/or termination efforts as needed, with the optimal strategy to be determined on a case-by-case basis. To date, no such intervention has been required. All Foundation personnel of Level-1 Clearance or higher are to be given a standardized summary of SCP-8416’s nature and properties during their initial employment orientations, following the standard introductory overview regarding the existence of anomalies. Personnel with Level-0 Clearance are not to be informed of SCP-8416 or related phenomena in any capacity. Level-0 staff assigned to SCP-8416-1 sites are to be permitted to enter and exit said facilities at regularly scheduled intervals under the pretense of conventional employment within their respective occupation. Foundation personnel who’s employment is terminated under dishonorable circumstances are to have all knowledge relating to SCP-8416 erased through the requisite level of amnesthetization, with adverse complications from treatment regarded as a secondary concern. Description: SCP-8416 is an audiospacial frequency originating from the collective vibration of the away-facing hemisphere of Earth’s moon. The mechanism behind this vibration is not thoroughly understood, but it is theorized to represent an extreme manifestation of quantum superpositioning, catalyzed by the away-facing hemisphere's relative size and proximity to the population of Earth, coupled with its total lack of visibility to said population. This results in the instantaneous relocation of all affected particles between 2 adjacent points in space perpetually. Although precisely measuring the resulting waveform is technologically infeasible at this time, it has been determined to be of an unequivocally higher frequency than any other known sound, anomalous or otherwise, by several orders of magnitude. SCP-8416’s wavelength is estimated to be significantly less than a planck’s length. Because of this, SCP-8416 travels through the medium of physical reality itself, rendering it imperceptible to all conventional organisms and technology, and enabling its transmission through the vacuum of space. SCP-8416 is continuously generated and is subsequently focused and amplified within the moon through a currently unknown process, before being emitted in linear beams from 4 large craters on the the surface of the moon’s Earth-facing hemisphere, designated Emission Sites 1-4. Each crater serves as the exit point of 4 separate SCP-8416 emissions, resulting in a total of 16 beams, all of which are directed at the Earth during approximately 50% of each day-night cycle. SCP-8416-1 designates 16 circular portions of Earth’s surface that are each targeted by an SCP-8416 beam, individually designated SCP-8416-1A through SCP-8416-1P. SCP-8416-1 instances are invariably 1.24km in diameter, and are positioned at static and seemingly random terrestrial locations distributed across Earth’s entire surface area. SCP-8416 beams remain focused on their respective SCP-8416-1 zones for as long as they are in range1. Outside of these periods, SCP-8416 beams are directed into deep space with no discernable target. Despite experiencing consistent intervals when SCP-8416 is not present, SCP-8416-1 zones display their anomalous properties at all times. The exact nature of the causal connection between the two has not been definitively determined. Map of SCP-8416-1 zones, labeled in colors corresponding to their respective Emission Sites as outlined in the previous diagram. Locations, objects, and events observed by a sapient entity within the perimeter of an SCP-8416-1 zone cannot be recalled correctly upon exiting said perimeter. During this momentary transition period, all memories formed within the SCP-8416-1 zone are erased and replaced with a realistic fictional narrative that the brain then accepts as an accurate recollection. These false memories align with the amount of time spent within the SCP-8416-1 zone to a reasonable degree, and account for any alterations to one’s person that occurred during this period, such as changes in clothing or injuries. Multiple visits to a particular zone by a single individual result in false narratives that are logically consistent between occasions. When multiple individuals exit an SCP-8416-1 zone at the same approximate time and location, the resulting false memories align factually between all parties. Forms of documentation originating from within an SCP-8416-1 zone (written descriptions, videos, etc.) do not physically change upon crossing the perimeter. Nevertheless, they are perceived by individuals who subsequently view them as aligning with their respective fictional narrative, even when said individuals were not informed of this narrative prior to viewing. The same phenomenon affects any live transmissions originating from within an SCP-8416-1 zone, with perceived alterations to their content aligning with fabricated memories later implanted into any individual(s) involved with the transmission upon exiting said zone. Any entity or device that remotely observes an SCP-8416-1 zone from a position outside of its perimeter can accurately perceive the space within it until observation ceases, at which point an equivalent memory alteration event occurs. Likewise, both direct recordings and secondary transcriptions of said observation become perceptually inaccurate at this time. The cumulative result of these properties is a complete informational vacuum regarding the current or former contents and transpirations present in actuality within an SCP-8416-1 zone from any external perspective. Memories implanted through SCP-8416 exposure vary widely in subject matter and are often extremely elaborate, with their degree of complexity positively correlating with the length of continuous time spent within an SCP-8416-1 zone. General elements that are frequently present within narratives derived from SCP-8416 exposure include2: Traveling along artificial routes, such as roads and trails, when said routes were not actually encountered/present. Witnessing and/or interacting with natural landmarks possessing physical attributes distinct enough to be remembered in particular detail, when said landmarks were not actually encountered/present. Witnessing and/or interacting with Flora and Fauna endemic to the respective geographic location of the SCP-8416-1 zone, with potentially positive, negative, or neutral consequences, when said organisms were not actually encountered/present. Witnessing and/or interacting with fellow humans, typically individuals that are ethnically correlated to the respective SCP-8416-1 zone, with potentially positive, negative, or neutral consequences, when said humans were not actually encountered/present and may or may not correspond to real individuals. Witnessing and/or interacting with various objects/structures of apparently man-made origin, either currently or formerly in use, of a similar/identical design to existent man-made inventions and plausibly consistent with the respective SCP-8416-1 zone, when said objects/structures were not actually encountered/present. Experiencing various forms of miscellaneous phenomena, such as weather patterns and tectonic activity, that did not actually occur within the SCP-8416-1 zone during the time frame of immersion. Likewise, any locations, objects, organisms, individuals, or events encountered in actuality within an SCP-8416-1 zone are largely absent from their corresponding fictitious narrative, with the only commonalities being extremely general in nature, such as the environmental setting and time of day. This principle is only overridden when multiple sapient entities are concurrently present in close proximity to each other, as each entity recalls the presence of all other entities in a manner that is consistent across all parties. Memories created through SCP-8416 exposure invariably lack any elements that would conflict with the affected individual’s fundamental understanding of the universe, and are thus typically free of anomalous content. SCP-8416’s cognitive effects exhibit referential negation3, meaning prior knowledge of SCP-8416’s existence and general description provides immunity to its influence. The informational components necessary to acquire this immunity are divided into 5 basic categories: Knowledge of SCP-8416’s origin, that being the away-facing hemisphere, or “dark side”, of Earth’s moon. Knowledge of SCP-8416’s physical nature and composition, that being a high-energy sound wave. Details regarding SCP-8416’s subspacial resonance properties are not required. Rather, one only has to know that SCP-8416 is a sound of some kind, and that it is higher in both amplitude and frequency than typical sounds. Understanding this information through layman's terms, such as “loud” and “high-pitched”, is also effective. Knowledge of SCP-8416’s pattern of emission, that being a continuous and unwavering tone. Retaining the impression that SCP-8416 emission is brief, temporary, or variably staggered in any way prevents the development of immunity, as does presuming that it ceased at some point in the past or will begin at some point in the future. Knowledge of SCP-8416's primary target, that being the planet Earth. Knowledge of more specific geographical locations is unnecessary, as is knowledge of the exact proportion of time that SCP-8416 beams are directed at Earth. Understanding that the preceding information is categorically true in reality. No further details are required. Misconceptions regarding any further aspects of SCP-8416 do not impact immunity. Individuals who possess this knowledge are able to enter and exit SCP-8416-1 zones without experiencing anomalous memory alterations, and thus can accurately recall contents and experiences therein with a typical level of detail and precision. Addendum 8416.1: 04/21/1962: Discovery SCP-8416 was first detected through an experimental Subspace Resonance Detector (SRD) developed as part of the Foundation’s Worldwide Anomalous Monitoring Initiative (FWAMI)4. Once perfected, the SRD was able to identify and locate all 16 SCP-8416-1 zones, though their anomalous psychological properties remained unknown. On-site investigation of all SCP-8416-1 zones was subsequently conducted by Research Associate Dr. Carter Rattigan. The effects of SCP-8416 exposure were assessed through D-Class trials wherein subjects were instructed to enter and explore SCP-8416-1 zones for varying lengths of time. Subjects were not informed of the purpose of these experiments or the nature of their assigned locations. Upon the conclusion of these initial experiments, no physical or psychological aberrations were found in participating subjects. Thus, researchers were authorized to conduct expeditions into SCP-8416-1 zones directly, under the condition that D-Class personnel accompany each foray for the purpose of exploring any potentially hazardous areas. Knowledge of SCP-8416 remained undisclosed to participating subjects during these operations, leading to the incidental discovery of SCP-8416’s anomalous cognitive effects, as the recollections of returning researchers contradicted those of returning D-Class personnel. Finer nuances of SCP-8416-1’s properties were subsequently determined through trial and error. Addendum 8416.2: 10/09/1962: Preliminary Documentation Aside from the presence of SCP-8416, SCP-8416-1 zones exhibit no inherent anomalous features, and are visually indistinct from the areas surrounding them. The following is a general summary of each SCP-8416-1 location and the contents therein. Information was compiled by Dr. Rattigan during SCP-8416’s initial research phase: + Access Description Logs - Access Description Logs Designation Geographic Coordinates Location Description 8416-1A 44.5015, -110.3755 Temperate deciduous forest within the western portion of Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. 8416-1B 20.6804, -102.1591 Mountainous region positioned along the northern side of the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt, Mexico. 8416-1C 60.3522, -101.5865 Mixed boreal forest within southern Nunavut, Canada. 8416-1D -37.5391, -66.7818 Flat steppe environment within the Patagonian Desert, Argentina. 8416-1E 2.1598, -55.3560 Tropical rainforest within northern Brazil. Partially intersects with the Tapajós river along the southeast segment of its perimeter5. 8416-1F 70.5712, -31.4497 Polar desert located on the eastern portion of the Greenland Ice Sheet. 8416-1G 14.9938, -5.0826 Hamada portion of the Sahara Desert within southern Mali. 8416-1H 47.5516, 23.9214 Temperate woodland within northeast Romania. 8416-1I -11.1284, 31.1282 Tropical savanna within Zambia’s northern province. 8416-1J 34.2766, 47.3879 Rocky plateau adjacent to the eastern border of the Zagros Mountains, Iran. 8416-1K -68.5841, 80.4147 Polar desert located near the edge of the Antarctic Ice Sheet. 8416-1L 54.7956, 70.2929 Temperate grassland within northern Kazakhstan 8416-1M 33.9056, 88.3006 Alpine tundra situated upon a moderately elevated portion of the Tibetan Plateau. 8416-1N 13.5377, 104.6482 Tropical lowland forest within central Cambodia. 8416-1O -29.1152, 121.8748 Arid shrubland within the western portion of the Australian Outback. 8416-1P 64.0331, 167.0506 Dense boreal forest within eastern Siberia. Addendum 8416.3: 09/16/1967: O5-Proposal 8416 The following proposal was submitted to the O5 Council by Head Researcher Dr. Rattigan following the completion of initial study into SCP-8416 and SCP-8416-1 locations: + Access Proposal Transcript - Exit Proposal Transcript Esteemed members of the Council, I have been assigned to the Subspace Resonance Division of FWAMI since its inception nearly eight years ago. Our research was originally conducted for the purpose of remote anomaly detection. However, it has instead resulted in an incidental discovery with far more practical potential than we could have ever imagined. As you are surely aware, conventional global powers have continued to advance technologically and grow increasingly interconnected in recent years, making the fulfillment of the Foundation’s mission while avoiding exposure to the general public exponentially more challenging. This dilemma poses a significant risk to the Foundation as it currently operates, and was the primary catalyst for the FWAMI’s initial inception. However, we believe that our discovery could not only significantly reduce this risk, but would all but negate the need for long-range remote observation entirely. Due to a subspace phenomenon detected by our prototype SRD, sixteen separate locations with novel paraphysical properties have been identified. All terrestrial, all uninhabited, all across the world. Our compiled research logs, attached below6, extensively detail the properties of these locations. Based on these findings, we have concluded that utilizing these zones for continuous Foundation operations would pose little to no risk for involved parties, would be highly advantageous in the task of maintaining international security, and could even prove to be instrumental in our undertaking of clandestine endeavors going forward. Thus, we encourage the consideration of all sixteen locations relating to this anomaly (Currently under Provisional Designation 8416) for use in future Foundation operations. Respectfully, Dr. Carter Rattigan UPDATE: O-5 referendum ruled in favor of Dr. Rattigan’s proposal7. PD: Project-8416 has been approved as of 10/17/1967. Addendum 8416.4: 01/12/1968: Project Black Moon Directed by Chief Research Coordinator Dr. Rattigan, Project Black Moon (PBM) was an international construction and dissemination project primarily centered around SCP-8416 and its associated phenomena. PBM’s directives were divided into 2 central categories: Establishment of secure Foundation sites within SCP-8416-1 zones, initially consisting of strategic operative and temporary containment infrastructure, before eventually expanding to include research, long-term containment, and administrative residence facilities. Due to the efficacy of their self-concealing properties, SCP-8416-1 sites have become the primary locations for all substantial Foundation operations. Universal disclosure of knowledge regarding SCP-8416 among all Foundation staff of Level-1 Clearance or above for the purpose of referential negation. This knowledge has been gradually streamlined into a vague yet concise declarative statement providing the minimum amount of information necessary to develop immunity to SCP-8416: “The black moon howls ceaselessly upon us”. This phrase is uttered repeatedly over the course of a standard Foundation orientation seminar, translated into the corresponding language thereof, and is used in reference to both those present in the immediate vicinity, the Foundation as a whole, and humanity as a whole, and is typically accompanied by at least 1 simplistic but intuitively understandable illustration. This practice improves the ease in which personnel can coordinate and travel between SCP-8416-1 sites, which will almost certainly be required at some point in their career. Likewise, the concealment of this information from Level-0 personnel enables the employment of necessary maintenance and janitorial staff within SCP-8416-1 sites without the risk of a security breach. Said staff’s false memories of their employment are internally consistent and largely aligned with their respective occupations, with the only substantial deviations from reality concerning the type of facility they work in, which is invariably recalled as mundane and free of anomalous phenomena. Incidentally, the dissemination of this information among all and only authorized Foundation staff has resulted in the popularization of an informal social custom among English-speaking personnel, particularly undercover field operatives, used to assess a given individual’s affiliation with the Foundation in a swift and discreet manner. The practice consists of asking the individual in question “Does the black moon howl?”. Subjects that are in fact members of the Foundation will reply with either “Ceaselessly upon us” or the acronym thereof: “Cuu”8, depending on the level of discretion necessitated by their current circumstances. The abbreviated response is distinct enough to recognize but simple and brief enough to be obscured by additional statements and sounds, such as sneezing. Although this technique has reportedly been helpful in numerous improvisatory situations, it is far from infallible, and is thus not an officially recognized procedure. Personnel are advised to employ formal Foundation identification methods, such as clearance-codes and retinal scans, whenever possible. PBM operated from 1968-1975, at which point its objectives were deemed comprehensively successful, and it was thus reclassified as concluded. However, procedures required to maintain the achievements of PBM have been codified as standard practice within the Foundation, and to date continue in perpetuity. Addendum 8416.5: 03/03/2007: Incident Report On 03/03/2007, at 12:21 Australian Western Standard Time, EDICT9 Dr. Rattigan entered SCP-8416-1O, now designated PrimeSite-O, through the gate positioned along its eastern quadrant. Upon crossing the perimeter of the zone, Dr. Rattigan immediately disappeared and/or ceased being visible from his location. The vehicle in which he was traveling continued to operate without guidance until halted within a nearby ditch. This event was corroborated by both security camera footage and multiple direct witnesses. Said witnesses, one of whom was Site Director Dr. Andrew Folkes, had planned to convene with Dr. Rattigan at the border and accompany him to O-Res10. A site-wide investigation was subsequently initiated, but to date is designated inconclusive due to a complete lack of evidence discovered regarding the nature of this event or the current status of Dr. Rattigan. On account of this, the case has been elevated to a Foundation-wide endeavor. All personnel of Level-1 Clearance or higher who believe they can possibly provide insight into this incident are strongly encouraged to contact PrimeSite-O’s Office of Internal Affairs11. To this end, a synopsis of all currently known information deemed to be potentially pertinent is provided below: Dr. Rattigan’s career had directly involved SCP-8416 and SCP-8416-1 zones for approximately 45 years preceding his disappearance (1962-2007). During this time frame, Dr. Rattigan had been pivotal in the initial research of SCP-8416 and related phenomena, as well as the development and execution of Project Black Moon. Dr. Rattigan had visited SCP-8416-1O on 15 prior occasions, and had conducted a greater number of visitations to each of the other SCP-8416-1 zones, all without incident. No other instances of individuals disappearing while crossing an SCP-8416-1 perimeter, with or without referential negation, are known. The moon was in a waning gibbous phase at the time of the incident. The moon was not visible from SCP-8416-1O at the time of the incident. On the occasion of his disappearance, Dr. Rattigan had traveled to SCP-8416-1O for the purposes of officially announcing his retirement, attending a social function celebrating his distinguished career, and appointing Dr. Folkes to the position of EDICT in his stead. Due to the indeterminate nature of this event and the currently ongoing investigation thereof, all nonessential travel into or out of SCP-8416-1 zones has been suspended until further notice. Contact your direct supervisor for more information. _ SOMEONE PLEASE READ THISSOMEONE PLEASE REMEMBER THIS ENTRIES FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DR. CARTER RATTIGAN Upload Time: 03/05/2007, 19:54 AWST Files Attached: 9 _ - WIP#2- 03/03/2007 Well, I’m finally here. The trip was long, but it went about as smoothly as I could have expected. I slept through most of the flight, so I felt comfortable starting the driving leg shortly after landing. Although I managed to outpace the sun for a few hours, I still got caught in the sweltering late-morning heat toward the end of the journey. The Foundation rental’s crappy AC couldn’t keep up, so I was awfully sweaty by the time I arrived, but otherwise no worse for wear. Andrew had offered to meet me in person at the entrance, which was quite considerate of him given his busy schedule. Perhaps he wanted some words of encouragement before the torch is officially passed. Feeling some trepidation is understandable, big shoes and whatnot, but he has nothing to worry about in my opinion. His suitability for the role of EDICT has been clear to me for over a decade now, ever since he helped resolve the Great Barrier Trench fiasco. I literally wrote the book on RN-P constructs, and even I couldn’t figure it out. I’d probably still be rerouting cargo the long way if it weren’t for him. I truly couldn’t be any more confident in someone’s aptitude for this position. He was parked just inside the gate, along with some assistants. It's funny, knowing what the perimeter fences represent, I always expect some sort of… I don’t know, something, when I pass through them. A feeling, a sense, anything at all to indicate its significance. There never is, of course, given the limitations of human perception, but no matter how many times I cross, there’s still a part of me that always expects it, and I think today I was finally right. It was only a moment, gone before I even had time to think. I saw Andrew and the others, and heard my tires rolling across the course dirt road. Then I saw two Andrews, two of everyone in his cohort, two gates, two everything. The sound of the tires crescendoed into an ear-piercing screech similar to microphone feedback; I’m still unsure whether it was an audible malfunction of my hearing aids or entirely mental in nature. I felt the strongest sense of vertigo I’ve ever had, like when you abruptly wake up after falling in a dream. Then, all at once, it passed, and everything was normal again. I don’t think the back of my car had even passed the threshold yet. I still felt a bit shaken as I got out to greet Andrew and his associates. I think they must have noticed, but they didn’t say anything. Maybe they chalked it up to the more sentimental aspects of these circumstances, to me preparing to secede from what has been my life’s work, to knowingly entering a -1 zone for what will probably be the last time. That’s what I chalked it up to, anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be doing this —I’ve been overdue for retirement and some well-deserved relaxation, and I’m confident in the legacy I’ll be leaving behind—, but it’s still turning out to be a surreal experience. Even now, long after I’ve settled in here, I just can’t shake the feeling that something is… off. Andrew and his convoy led me to 1O-Res and gave me a brief tour of the building. From what I’ve seen so far, everything is going according to plan. The staff have really outdone themselves with the ceremony preparations. They showed me the auditorium where I’ll give my speech, the banquet hall where a buffet is already being prepared, and lastly my personal accommodations. It’s little more than a bed, desk, and bathroom, but it's more than sufficient to me, as I don’t plan on spending much time cooped up in here anyway, what with all the festivities. Andrew seemed to grow distracted toward the end of the tour. His commentary on the last few locations sounded as though they were far more abbreviated than he had originally planned. His statements were short and curt, and he kept having to leave the room to take calls. I could tell he was growing worried by the end of it. Though my curiosity was piqued, I didn’t feel it would be appropriate to pry. He wants to show me he can handle things on his own, and I want to show him that I have no doubt. I’m sure he’ll let me into the loop sooner or later. For now, I have a speech to rehearse. _ - WIP#3- 03/04/2007 Something is wrong. I don’t know what exactly, but it’s definitely something. I’ve felt it ever since I arrived, pervasive but indescribable. At first I assumed it was just me, an internal reflection of my emotional state, but the signs have since become undeniable. Something is objectively, palpably wrong, and I think others have realized it too. all of -1O’s external communication channels went offline yesterday. Andrew and his staff have been scrambling to fix it ever since, but so far they’ve made no headway. There are no signs of a technical malfunction on our end, just a complete lack of incoming signals. It’s not just the Foundation networks either. Civilian wifi, cell phone signals, even HAM radio, they’re all dead. We can still send transmissions, but with no receiver activity detected, it’s impossible to tell if they’re getting through to anyone. I only recently learned all of this, Andrew called not long ago to fill me in. I’m thankful that the intrasite comms are still functional, or else I’d probably still be in the dark. I don’t think he has time for an in-person visit right now. From how he sounded, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was up all night with the comm technicians trying to fix the issue. He stayed calm and professional as he explained, but his voice betrayed his concern, frayed by exhaustion in a manner I am all too familiar with. He finished by stating that tonight’s festivities have been officially postponed until this issue is sorted out, and that he will be announcing a sitewide extrazonal lockdown in the near future, so I’ll have to stay on site grounds for the time being. He actually apologized to me for the inconvenience. Poor guy, an excellent leader, but considerate to a fault sometimes. Two sides of a coin, I suppose. I offered to help in any way I can, but he shut that idea down immediately. I heard a commotion of some kind in the background, and a few pieces clicked in my head. I asked him what time the comms went down, what exact time, but he wouldn’t say. He told me not to worry, but suggested I stay in my quarters and keep to myself for the time being. Then he hung up. In all honesty, I feel somewhat indignant over being relegated to such an idle position. I suspect that he omitted significant aspects of the current situation; malfunctioning comms alone wouldn’t necessitate the imposition of a universal and indefinite lockdown protocol. I don’t know what exactly is happening, but I’m sure it’s somehow worse than he’s letting on. It makes sense to keep things under wraps until he fully understands the situation, so as not to cause panic among the general staff, but I would think our close affiliation would warrant some exemption from such measures. In any case, I have decided to respect his wishes, as forcefully interjecting myself would only illustrate that I don’t trust his judgment, and what would that say about my endorsement of him as my successor? No, I’ll heed his advice and stay put, at least for tonight. Maybe we’ll both be able to see things more clearly after a good night’s sleep. _ - WIP#4- 03/05/2007 The sun never rose this morning. It got to the point when the first dull gray light creeps over the skyline, then it just stopped. The moon paused too, around the same time, stuck at its highest point in the sky. I strongly suspect that the rest of the earth outside of PrimeSite-O is also temporally frozen, but it's hard to tell since we’re surrounded by nothing but empty desert. Fortunately our clocks still work, so I can at least tell what time it’s supposed to be. For the sake of simplicity, as well as preserving at least some of my sanity, I’m going to continue logging these entries into my touchpad under the progressive dating format. For all intents and purposes, today is March 5th, and “tomorrow” will be March 6th. It may be wrong, but it’s what I’m used to, and at this point I need all the comfort I can get. Writing feels like my only reprieve from the now-undeniable severity of what is unfolding across the site. I awoke around 6am, not long after the freeze from what I can tell. I groggily struggled to get my bearings amid the sound of rapid footsteps emanating across the -Res building and shouting from outside —Evidently, most of the staff had beaten me to the realization—, along with another sound beneath it all, the source of which I couldn’t place. A constant, faint, high-pitched ringing. It continues even now, omnipresent and unwavering. Not wishing to ponder the implications of this, I turned down the volume on my hearing aids, and to my relief it dampened accordingly. As such, I figured that it was just a technological glitch, like the feedback when I entered the zone, or the comms blackout. At least, that’s what I hoped it was. With Andrew’s advice still in mind, I stayed in my quarters at first, trying my best to ascertain the situation from the vantage point of my window. I saw a jumble of personnel running, driving, carrying various objects. Their movements portrayed a confused and frantic energy, but they were too far to make out any finer details or discern any context. Moreover, the window was growing foggy, further obfuscating the scene. I tried calling Andrew’s mobile comm, but there was no response, and that was my tipping point. I had to go out there. Between the darkness and overall mayhem, it was easy to keep a low profile once I left the building. Following the primary current of personnel, I reached the epicenter of the commotion: the Eastern perimeter gate, the same one I entered just a few days ago. The gate was not only open, but missing its doors entirely. Large portions of the adjacent fencing had also been demolished. Scientific equipment of just about every variety was being set up along the edge of the zone: sonar, radar, Kant Counters, Remote SRDs, and many more esoteric ones I couldn’t name on sight. Occasionally, I’d see people throwing objects over the border, mostly just rocks they picked up off the ground, though I saw one fellow shooting a firearm erratically into the surrounding darkness before being restrained. I didn’t understand why, as I saw nothing but the empty desert beyond the perimeter. Then it hit me: I saw nothing, including the objects being thrown. None of the rocks launched across the divide hit the ground on the other side. It was hard to tell exactly what happened to them in the poor lighting, but it was clearly something anomalous. With this realization, my stress level finally felt synchronized with the surrounding atmosphere. It was then that I was able to make out Andrew’s face among the turbulent crowd. Even in the moonlight, I could tell he was abnormally pale. He wore his quintessential stone-faced expression, the one I’ve seen him don during many previous crises. Upon seeing me, he nervously took me aside, asking why I left my quarters. He said I should have called him first, and when I told him I had, several times in fact, he took out his comm unit and sighed. His next words bored a pit of anxiety into my stomach: “Sorry, guess I couldn’t hear it over the ringing”. He casually pointed to one ear as he said it, as if he had long since moved past that particular phenomenon. I, on the other hand, had still been clinging to the formerly unfalsifiable notion that it was the result of my hearing aids malfunctioning. With the passive admission that he could hear it too, my grip on that comforting assumption was severed, and my mind felt momentarily adrift. His subsequent statements felt distant and surreal, as he proceeded to explain the current state of affairs. Apparently, in the hours following the start of the communication blackout, several employees of Level-0 Clearance (mostly janitorial) left the site at the end of their shifts as they normally would, but both they and their vehicles vanished from visible existence immediately upon crossing the perimeter. Security cameras recorded these events, but in a blunder of bureaucratic oversight, they weren’t brought to Andrew’s attention until several hours later, after almost every Level-0 shift had concluded. He tried to restrict knowledge of this development to a need-to-know basis, so as not to cause alarm, as well as to allow himself the small possibility of rescuing them. He failed on both accounts, as he made no headway in determining their fate, and the recent time freeze revealed our anomalous circumstances to everyone, which quickly led to the other peculiar phenomena coming out of the bag as well. Although he was largely professional and matter-of-fact during this explanation, it was clear from slight falters in his tone that the disappearances weighed heavily on him. I tried to offer reassurances, hindsight is 20/20, anomalies are unpredictable by definition, but I knew they wouldn’t get through to him. I’ve offered the same impotent platitudes to myself on many occasions. They don’t work, yet you can’t help but try. You hold out hope that the rationality of these statements will somehow cut through the impermeable guilt you feel, but it never does. I’m sure we’re both used to the cycle by now. To his credit, the uncertainty he felt was revealed only to me. Once he got a hold of a megaphone and connected to the sitewide intercoms, he resumed the pretense of poise and authority necessary to manage the growing hysteria. He delegated the tasks of performing routine containment and maintenance procedures, which obviously cannot be neglected despite the circumstances. He laid out a system of food rationing, and instructed personnel to deep-freeze whatever perishables are present on site (including the buffet, not that that matters anymore). He divided the remaining staff into four encampments, each assigned to one quadrant of the perimeter, and gave instructions for a more methodical study of its properties, with he himself overseeing activities on the Eastern face. I worked alongside him for the next several hours, mainly taking baseline readings with the Remote SRD, while he and the rest of his cohort tried more conventional mediums of detection. Unfortunately, these endeavors were fruitless; none of our measurements differed from those obtained during the zone’s initial study. With each informational dead end, the sense of unease within our group rose palpably. There was an elephant in the room, and I could tell from the looks I got from his assistants that it was me. Who can blame them? They surely know all of this started when I arrived, that somehow this is my fault. Even I can’t deny the correlation, and it’s pretty much the only clue we have as to why this could be happening. Though the tension was increasingly evident, likely exacerbated by fraying nerves and the constant ubiquitous ringing, no one dared to acknowledge it explicitly, at least not in Andrew’s presence. I got the sense that they had broached this topic with him before, and that it had been unequivocally shut down. After all, there is only one solution that can be drawn from this line of thought, one that he understandably doesn’t want to resort to, at least not yet. Though I appreciated his consideration for my well-being, I felt the weight of responsibility in the staff’s expectant gazes, and I knew I couldn’t justify upholding my safety at their expense. I realized what I had to do. As the staff prepared to send a drone across the border, I took a moment to internally process the situation, coming to terms with the potentially imminent conclusion of my existence as best as one possibly can. Once ready, I cleared my throat, becoming the locus of their collective attention. No explanation was necessary, as context rendered my intentions recognizable to all. Andrew started to speak, no doubt formulating persuasions to the contrary, but I cut his attempt short, assuring him that it was okay, that this was for the best. I thanked everyone for their hospitality, told them it had been a pleasure working with them, and walked backward toward the perimeter. Composed as I was, I was of course still terrified of the prospect of what awaited me beyond, and I wanted my final view to be of those I would hopefully save with my sacrifice, with my eyes focussing on Andrew in particular. However, whatever heroic comforts ran through my mind in those moments were abruptly halted, as my back hit a solid, impenetrable barrier at the point of my expected transition. The crowd’s immediate disappointment was obvious, as I foolishly pressed myself harder against the invisible wall. While this definitively proved that I was personally linked to our anomalous circumstances, the discovery brought little comfort, as the solution that everyone had, implicitly or not, placed their hopes in was clearly inviable. Back to square one, they solemnly returned their efforts to the drone. While the remote feedback system was being calibrated, Andrew ushered me away from the others and discreetly handed me his personal Level-4 Clearance keycard. He said I should stay in his private quarters until further notice, that he’d keep in touch through his comms and inform me of any new developments that arise out here. I was reluctant to accept this for several reasons, not the least of which is that card-sharing is strictly against protocol, but he pointed out the extenuating nature of these circumstances (an undeniable truth to which I had no rebuttal), and assured me that he can just input his keycode manually to bypass any restrictions. I was going to protest further, indicating my desire to assist in resolving our shared predicament, but he seemed to anticipate this. He explained that his room has a L4-locked computer interface, through which I would have unrestricted access to the Foundation Research Database, so I should try combing through the 8416 files for information that could shed light on our dilemma. He said I have a more thorough understanding of this anomaly than anyone else, so if anyone can figure something out, it’s me. I’m sure this praise was strategic to some extent, intended to ease my mind as I was once again pushed to the sidelines, but he did have a point. My physical presence at the border was apparently useless, so perhaps my efforts would be better spent studying this phenomenon in a remote capacity. So that’s where I am now, sitting at the desk in Andrew’s private office. This place is nicer than my former accommodations, but not extravagantly so. There’s a bathroom, a microwave, a minifridge with enough frozen food to last at least a few days, and a queen-size bed, not that I’ll be using the latter; I am a guest, afterall. I’ll sleep on the couch, that is, if I even sleep in the first place. So far the ringing has kept me wide awake. It seems to be getting progressively louder, though that could just be an illusory perception on my part. Turning down my hearing aids helps, at least for a bit, but I’m trying to do so sparingly. I don’t want to miss a call from Andrew, or some other important sound. As promised, I can view every archived document relating to 8416 through his desktop computer, all the way back to the 60’s. Many are of my own making, but it’ll still pay to refresh my memory. There’s also a bookshelf containing every scholarly publication I’ve ever authored, chronologically organized, neatly positioned, and in fresh condition. Encountering them so unexpectedly, the cumulative product of my lifelong career in memetic research, is as surreal as it is flattering, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given our longstanding rapport. I’ll be sure to incorporate them into my research as well, at least the earlier ones that primarily cover 8416. Putting my thoughts down in this journal has helped me process the day’s events, but it’s time I stop procrastinating. I intend to dedicate all of my further time and energy to studying this matter. I won’t stop until I’ve discovered a solution. The answer must be hidden somewhere in the prior data, I just have to find it. _ - WIP#5- 03/06/2007 There must be something, right? I’ve found myself muttering that phrase on a loop for the last several hours as I repeatedly comb through the research archives, as if this desperate mantra could somehow bring the truth of the statement into existence, but it’s no use. The deeper I dig, the clearer the futility of my efforts become. There are no documented cases of macroscopic temporal or spatial distortions relating to 8416. There’s plenty of information about its sub-planck warping properties, of course. We have a decent grasp of that thanks to the SRD. But that’s the thing, ordinary devices can’t detect 8416 because they are made of the very fabric of reality that it distorts. But something has changed, and now we can detect its influence. I can see the static night sky, held in place by the moon's pivotal beam for days on end. I can observe how anything that escapes its clutches is enveloped by total nothingness. I can hear its incessant goddamn ringing, foiling any attempt to sleep no matter how exhausted I get. The only definitive conclusion I can draw is that we no longer exist within standard macrospace. We’ve been marooned inside a planck-second, wedged into a crevice between units of existence. It brought us here, to its domain, the unseen, the unknown. We’re operating under its rules now, and I have no idea how to break free of them. I haven’t seen Andrew in person since he directed me to stay here, but from what he’s said over his last few calls, things on his end are growing just as dire. He’s tried everything he can think of to understand the border phenomenon: drones (both land and air, RC and autonomous), analog measuring tools fastened to ropes to drag them back inside, all types of lab animals available in the research wing. The result is always the same; once they cross, they’re gone for good. He’s also tried positioning objects (all mentioned above) directly on the perimeter threshold, and the results, suffice to say, were about as disastrous as you could expect. Essentially, they’ve gained no information whatsoever about what lies outside the zone or the nature of this phenomenon. He even said that, at this point, he can’t be sure whether the surrounding desert and sky, as they appear from within, are actually present. So far, he’s been somewhat successful in maintaining a tone of confidence and conviction while giving these updates, but the cracks started to show during his most recent contact, an involuntary quiver of fear infiltrating his speech. He’s out of ideas, and I fear that I am too Fueled by our mutual lack of success, an omnipresent atmosphere of looming hopelessness has descended upon me over the course of the past several hours, searing further into my thoughts with each fruitless file I read, and yet I can’t bring myself to stop. I feel like, if I lose this momentum, I’ll be left with nothing. Just me and that despicable moon, with its merciless goddamn ringing. Taxing as it is to endure, I refuse to let it consume me. I swear to whatever being could possibly hear me over this wretched howl, I won’t stop until I’ve vanquished its creator. I will break it before it breaks me. I will bring silence. I wouldn’t even be writing this if that fucking fog hadn’t stalled my investigation. It hit the windows first, making it gradually harder to see what’s going on outside. Certainly unusual for the Australian outback, but it seemed trivial at the time compared to everything else going on. I began to grow concerned, however, when it started appearing on the bathroom mirror. I hadn’t used the shower or anything, I barely left the archives long enough for a necessary piss break. I rubbed my finger along its surface, but it didn’t wipe off like you’d expect. It couldn’t be on the other side, as the mirror is directly affixed to the wall, and of course it wouldn’t be visible from my side regardless. That left only one possibility: it must be forming inside the glass itself. It was then, perfectly timed as though to accentuate the gravity of this conclusion, that I noticed it forming on the computer. Given the preceding pattern of the windows and mirror, it was clear that the screen would continue to increase in opacity until it was rendered essentially inoperable, a realization that, in that moment, nearly crushed my will entirely. I’d still be able to read through my printed publications, of course, but doing so has thus far been equally ineffective, and the amount of available data therein is exponentially limited in comparison to the entire digital database. I know this is irrational, probably the sleep deprivation talking, but it feels like an attack directed at me personally. As if the moon’s continued capacity to allude my understanding wasn’t satisfactory enough, it had to add insult to injury and thwart my primary means of even trying to learn about it. One last ‘fuck you!’ to cap off a day of uninterrupted failure. Of course, I’ve since learned that the phenomenon isn’t exclusive to me. According to Andrew’s last update, it’s affecting all glass on-site, disabling almost every security camera and computer terminal. Only a few devices have been spared; apparently, the latest Foundation-issued models are made with some kind of transparent plastic instead of glass, but -O has been slow to phase in the updated tech. He’s trying his best to allocate them for maintaining essential operations, but for the most part we’ve gone completely dark. In perhaps my only stroke of good fortune today, it seems the mobile touchpad I use to log these journal entries is one of the new, unaffected models. I tried transferring as many files from the archive as I could onto it before the terminal’s screen was completely obfuscated, but I was informed that my ‘external device is not authorized to download’ anything but the fully unrestricted, Standard-Clearance precursory description files. However, there was an adjacent printer that was authorized, so in a final, desperate gambit, I decided to print as many documents as I could, first using up all the blank printer paper, then finding already-printed pages around Andrew’s office and reprinting over them. I didn’t have time to debate which files to prioritize, but I think I ended up with a relatively even mix of documents that I’d read and thought potentially useful and new documents that looked promising based on their titles alone. I’m writing this while the printer is catching up on the last few files I selected. The screen’s all white now, so this will be it, just me and this mess of papers. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT I’m such an idiot!!!! I was so frantic in trying to outpace the fog, I didn’t bother to connect or organize the pages after they emerged. I just knocked the whole goddamn pile off the table. They’re everywhere now, fucking everywhere, blanketing the entire fucking floor. IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _ - WIP#6- 03/07/2007 I can’t do it. I just can’t do it. I’ve looked at the information from every conceivable angle, explored every possible connection. I’ve literally coated the entirety of Andrew’s apartment in paper, tied together by thumbtacks and dental floss like some worn out conspiracy cliche, and I’m still no closer to finding a solution. If anything, I’ve only become more confused, lost in a web of data that makes less sense with each assessment. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, can't even sit alone with my thoughts for a single fucking second without feeling like I’ll go mad from the moon’s accursed screeching. You’d think I would have learned to subconsciously tune it out by now, being just a single continuous sound, but no, of course not. It won’t let me. It refuses to be ignored, growing steadily louder by the hour, by the minute even, always one step ahead of my mind, constantly rising just above my minimum perceptual threshold into the realm of conscious awareness. I can adjust my hearing aids to make them quieter, and I have done so several times at this point, but it brings only a moment of reprieve, as the sound once again begins its ceaseless trek up the decibel scale. My brain, in an ultimate act of betrayal, is perfectly willing and able to adjust to accommodate the lower volume, rapidly resensitizing until I return to a dreadful equilibrium with that torturous scream. Anguish, vitriol, existential dread, it’s all compressed into that ceaseless and all-consuming howl, scraping away at my psyche with each passing moment like a sharp yet rusty knife. Until now, my determination to pursue the nature of the wailing moon and uncover its weaknesses was my mind’s only refuge. The illusion of agency, of hope, like an island in a storm, but it’s gone now. I’ve turned to writing this journal entry, sprawled on Andrew’s bed amid an entanglement of interlacing floss, in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. The medium of written word is the only outlet through which I can still think at all; rereading my previous statements allows me to combat the constant interruption of my train of thought, at least for now. So here I will remain, inside this hallowed plastic screen, until… well, that I don’t know. I no longer believe that Andrew or someone else out there will find a way to resolve this, either. From the messages he’s sent, along with the continual sounds of distress and interpersonal conflict emanating from beyond the marbled windows, I’ve gathered that things have essentially gone to shit all over the site. I stopped receiving calls from Andrew nearly a day ago —I presume his comm unit was composed of glass— but I know he’s still (relatively) okay, or at least he was fairly recently. He’s been sending updates through his printer. Whenever the green light turns on and a dinging sound is made, the only stimuli left that can incentivize me to leave this bed, I feed it a few pages of the documents hanging from the walls, and I receive a partially-obfuscated but still somewhat legible message. At first I was highly selective about which papers to sacrifice for this process, back when I still thought I could fix this, but that ship has sailed, so now I just pick ones with a decent amount of blank space remaining. Deciphering the messages requires a bit of scrutiny due to the frequent obstruction of words and sentences, but I think I at least get the gist of what’s been happening across the rest of the site, and it’s nothing good. Moot as it may be, I’ll try my best to summarize here; perhaps compiling the chaos into a comprehensive synopsis will help to validate my newfound nihilism and provide some sort of twisted catharsis. Andrew’s efforts to experiment with the zone perimeter have pretty much ceased entirely, as he has become increasingly occupied by “exit” attempts from various personnel. It seems many of those without the luxury of decrepit cochleas have been affected by the moon’s abhorrent keening even more acutely than I have. As of now, somewhere between 20-29% of the site’s occupants (can’t make out the second digit) have either successfully left the zone, or have become “compromised” (unclear what exactly he means by that) to the point of necessitating medical commitment. So far, the primary approach for handling such cases has been forcible sedation, but the medical wing is close to running out of the requisite drugs. He suspects that some of the associated staff have been stealing them for their own benefit, but he can’t afford to focus on that. He’s stretched way too thin as it is. Even among the personnel who have thus far kept their sanity, it’s becoming progressively harder to maintain order. There is talk of trying to use certain anomalies held onsite (didn’t go into specifics) to combat whatever’s happening, but Andrew is drawing a hard line against any such attempts, which I think is a wise choice. Still, with people growing increasingly desperate, he fears it’s only a matter of time before they stop accepting his authority altogether. People have also been asking about me; where I am, if I’m still alive, etc. He’s thus far managed to avoid answering these questions, but they are only getting more persistent with each dismissive response he gives. The subtext of their queries is pretty clear: since I’m somehow the cause of all of this, and I can’t physically exit the zone, that leaves only one remaining way to get rid of me and potentially free them from this purgatory. It’s a somewhat logical conclusion, one that I’ve considered myself a time or two, but have not yet mustered the courage to enact. It’s one thing to walk through an invisible boundary and vanish into thin air, my ultimate fate unknown, but to accept a traditional death, with all the fear and pain and unquestionable finality it brings, ignites millions of years of instinctual opposition within me. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I am only human. As of now, that’s the extent of the information I can glean from Andrew’s messages. He hasn’t sent any more in a while, but I’ve preemptively loaded the printer for when he (hopefully) does. The closing statement of his last communication “STAY PUT” was brief yet telling. Even amidst the growing turmoil, he still isn’t willing to sacrifice my safety. I don’t know if that’s admirable or idiotic. I guess probably both. The same dichotomy permeates much of what he’s disclosed to me. Given his most recent endeavors, it seems he still believes we can find a way to stop this nightmare. While my impulse is to view this notion as utterly naive, I can’t help but acknowledge a certain level of respect for it as well. Ultimately, I recognize it as a reflection of the very same traits that originally convinced me of his aptitude for leadership; discipline, tenacity, courage, everything needed to weather the storms that so frequently brew in our line of work. If only the storm we’re facing here could be weathered, what I now see as pointless conviction could have been our salvation. He would have made a great EDICT, better than I was, if he’d only had the chance. I know this with certainty, but due to this sadistic twist of fate, no one else ever will. I hope at least he does. _ - WIP#7- 03/08/2007 What have I done? What have I done? what have I done? what have I done? How could I have been so careless? So selfish? Andrew was my friend, he trusted me. He did everything he could to protect me, and yet, when the time came to return the favor, I didn’t answer the call. I didn’t even fucking hear it. Today was the tipping point. Part of me knew it was coming, we’ve been teetering on the edge of total anarchy for some time now, but I must shamefully admit that the final straw that broke the camel’s back caught me completely off guard. The fog on the glass wasn’t fog, that much was clear, but my foolish egocentrism blinded me to its true nature until it was too late. In the throes of emotional turmoil and sleep deprivation, I came to think of it as an individualized punishment borne of active malice, as if the moon was actually concerned enough about my efforts to escape its grasp to warrant intentionally stymying my research. Of course it wasn’t; it knew the endeavor was futile. If anything, the fog’s formation was an act of mercy, a display of lunar solidarity, intended to convey the true inevitability of the fate we now face alongside it, the curse of utter irrelevance that binds us together in this asomatous purgatory, made manifest through that pervasive, torturous howl. It’s all the howl, it was always the howl. If only I had heeded its premonitions, truly examined the message that its vociferous voice was figuratively transcribing across my screen. I would have seen the microfractures. I would have known what was coming. It was only through arbitrary, undeserved luck that I was left relatively unscathed by the event. If I had been sitting at Andrew’s desk at the time, or just happened to be taking a shit, I probably wouldn’t be writing this now. Instead, I was on his bed, far from the windows, staring blankly at an array of meaningless documents, my consciousness rendered nearly inert by days of sleeplessness and screaming, when my stasis was punctured by the jarringly sharp sound of a single, resounding crack. Even without my hearing aids, which by then I had fully deactivated, it was still the most startling noise I have ever perceived, and the first in several days to closely contend with the scream itself, if only for an instant. As I soon realized, it was the sound of all glass across the site, every pane, screen, and lens, shattering at once. Even now, it still echoes through the cavernous recesses of my psyche. It was indescribable. The threat it posed was not limited to the initial shatter itself. The resulting shards were so fine that they floated through the air like clouds of dust. Soon my eyes began to water, and my throat began to itch. Before even fully comprehending the situation, I had pulled the bed sheet over my nose and mouth, and was frantically trying to fan the clouds away with a pillow, though to little success. I tried to direct them outside through what were formerly the windows, but with each moment of sight came an unbearable stinging across my retinas, forcing me to primarily operate through what little spatial memory my fatigued brain could muster. The encompassing network of taut, interlacing floss didn’t help either, causing me to stumble and collapse several times. In hindsight, that was a laughably stupid idea, another truth to which my exhaustion had previously blinded me Though my body was largely spared, my mind was equivalently shredded upon reaching the window, as I beheld the exponential catastrophe unfolding across the site. Though I couldn’t (and wouldn’t) get a good look, my ears illustrated the scene in sickening detail, as the moon’s infernal shriek seemed to somehow accentuate the sounds of staff less fortunate than I. Strange as it may be, I had grown accustomed to the sporadic bouts of yelling and crying that had become commonplace over the last few days, as people’s nerves were steadily corroded by the ceaseless howl. It was understandable, comforting even, and in the face of what I now heard, it was sorely missed. It would have been a relief to know their vocal cords were still intact enough to function. Instead, I was met with a cacophony of hoarse, gasping breaths. Their coughs and chokes congealed into a collective roar, the discordant chorus interspersed with occasional splashing sounds that I still dare not link to any visual conception. Their anguished rasps rose in tandem, harmonizing with the moon to create an immeasurable and all-consuming symphony of suffering. If we were in purgatory before, then this must be Hell. By the time I had sufficiently cleared the residence of glasseous particulates such that I could keep my eyes open (at least somewhat), it was all I could manage to plop myself into Andrew’s bed. I really am an old man, past my prime, that’s been made irrefutably clear. Every muscle and joint in my body burned from the exertion. I remained winded for an unexpectedly long time, struggling to compensate for the oxygen deficit accrued from such relatively mild physical labor (granted, inhaling through the filter of a bedsheet certainly didn’t help). My fatigue was exacerbated by the stinging blotches of red, irritated skin that coated my forearms, no doubt embedded with thousands of infinitesimal shards that I probably still haven’t fully removed. And yet, these physical discomforts felt distant to me. Having already resigned myself to this torturous existence, this unending scream, I felt that the last remaining remnants of my will to act at all had been expended in the final burst of motion catalyzed by the shatter, by the prospect of compounding my suffering with the breath of a million smothering razors. Such concerns now seemed trivial, and I decided at that moment that I would passively accept whatever additional agony was thrust upon me next. I would let it consume me, and doing so would be moot, as I had already been consumed. This cynical conviction, however, turned out not to be absolute. There was a single remaining circumstance that would break me from my vow of dormancy. One that, in my state of bottomless self-pity, I had not anticipated. Maybe if I had held a different mental state, if the strength to persevere had come to me sooner, the following events would have transpired differently. I’ll never know, but I’ll always wonder. It’s a weight I’ll carry to the grave, if not further, and it’s a weight I undoubtedly deserve. The encroaching mob became known to me through vibrations long before my enfeebled ears could detect it. Doors slamming, footsteps pounding, improvised melee weaponry banging. I felt them working their way through the building like a localized storm, reverberating through the layers of floor and mattress and into my flesh and bones, and yet I didn’t react. I remember thinking to myself, to the extent that I was able or willing to think at all, that if this was the fate to befall me, then so be it. It wasn’t just about me, though. Of course it wasn’t. I was selfish, I was stupid, and yet, in a work of cruel, cosmic irony, I am still here. I couldn’t discern the leading twin echoes of Andrew’s hurried footsteps, as they were fully absorbed into the rumbling of the stampede which followed closely behind. It wasn’t until the acoustic amalgam neared the front door, and I saw the locking mechanism deactivate, indicating a successful keycode input, that the notion of his presence even crossed my mind. The thought sprung me to my feet with a vigor I had deemed unattainable only moments before, but it was too late. Andrew entered successfully, a few seconds ahead of the ensuing riot. He would have had time to close the door behind him, surely buying us at least enough time to devise a plan of escape, if it weren’t for the knee-high length of dental floss that happened to pass in front of the entryway. Of all the eventualities he may have considered, succumbing to what was essentially a makeshift booby trap within his own home certainly wasn’t one of them. He went down hard and flat, his nose buckling against the floor in an unnatural manner that made my entire body instinctively recoil. The mob was instantly upon him, though they too were largely hindered by the array of minty tripwires, resulting in an amorphous heap of flailing heads and limbs. In those initial, crucial moments of confusion, Andrew lifted his head to look at me, eyes unfocused, blood streaming down his face. He barked a single, strained syllable, only barely breaking through the moon’s lamentous howl, before being engulfed by the writhing horde: PRINT It’s hard for me to recall my exact train of thought following this event. My memories are chronicled through the lens of actions, as my body’s intuition seemed to take the helm. I don’t know if I truly understood what Andrew was trying to tell me, or if I simply tried to flee before the enraged crowd regained their bearings. Regardless, I ended up barricading myself in his office, where I found what I presume was the subject of his allusion. At some point, the printer had transposed a single additional page, yielding a final message. Though cryptically worded, it was clearly discernible among the layers of prior text by virtue of both its font size and brevity: RN ENCY VOL 6-7 KEYCARD < - - - - As my weary, deteriorated brain struggled to make sense of the note, my eyes impulsively followed the arrow’s trajectory, landing on the bookshelf. I’d removed many of the more relevant publications during my useless research venture, but some remained untouched. Their proud exhibition of my name embellished in gold across each spine now felt almost mocking, juxtaposed with the undeniable impotence of my expertise over the preceding days. Nearest to the arrow, my gaze fell upon the latter installments of what I’d once considered my crowning achievement: The Encyclopedia of Referential Negation: a Comprehensive Collection of Terms, Research, & Documented Instances. Volumes VI and VII stood erect, the narrow crevice between them slightly wider than the rest, and I noticed for the first time a parallel groove running along the supporting shelf, the deepest layer of which glinted with a distinctly metallic sheen. At that moment, every disjointed fragment of information somehow coalesced within my hypnagogic mind, and the entirety of Andrew’s communication attained clarity. At once I became deeply engaged with fulfilling his instructions, and any awareness of the frenzied pack of personnel repeatedly ramming the door was excised from the realm of conscious thought. I withdrew Andrew’s Level-4 Clearance keycard from the pants pocket where it had been stored for almost 4 straight days at that point, and swiped it through the dubious fissure. Nothing happened at first, long enough to trigger a brief spark of gaslight within me, before it was extinguished by a mechanical rumbling beneath my feet. My already precarious balance was nearly lost as a square segment of the floor retracted into the adjacent wall, revealing the entrance to a vertical concrete shaft, with a procession of protruding metal rungs descending an unknown distance into its shadowy depths. This development caused my threadbare burst of focus to briefly falter, and I was momentarily paralyzed as I gazed into the newly exposed abyss. The classic hidden door cliche had briefly crossed my mind as I swiped the card, but I hadn’t truly considered it as a possibility. It’s presence invoked as many questions as it answered, but I could scarcely afford to ponder them, as the crack of splintering wood and severing door hinges swiftly reminded me. choosing speed over grace, I half-climbed, half-plummeted down the tunnel, which was fortunately not as deep as its unilluminated obscurity had initially suggested. At the bottom, a big, red button jutted from the wall, the unambiguous word “CLOSE” glowing softly upon its face. I pressed it without a second thought, and was promptly engulfed in darkness. It seemed my concealment was not a moment too soon, as reverberating footsteps and voices soon flooded the space above me. I don’t know if they saw the final sliver of my escape route as the hatch slid shut, but regardless, they had no success in penetrating the secluded space. Nevertheless, I was initially frozen in shock, not daring to move or even breathe. It wasn’t until their ambiguous banging and unintelligible yet clearly aggressive speech began to dwindle, sinking beneath the unremitting tide of lunar melancholy, that I felt secure enough to survey my surroundings. The cold, concrete room that has become my sanctuary for the time being, is a rather minimalist abode. Its area definitely doesn’t exceed 3 square meters, and the ceiling is slightly lower than my height. Only a sleeping bag and pillow are available for the purposes of tactile comfort, accompanied by a pile of canned food, a few water jugs, and a bucket. There are no light fixtures installed as far as I can tell, only a nonfunctional, lensless flashlight, so I am illuminated solely by the screen of this touchpad. I’m sure that this room would not be considered up-to-code as an official site-standard bunker. With no apparent fallout shielding or long-term amenities, it’s clear that this was devised as more of an under-the-table project. Useful for brief and basic emergencies, with the benefit of Andrew’s sole personal access. I had no prior knowledge of this construction, and I couldn’t help but ponder the numerous unknowns surrounding its existence. Why did Andrew decide to make this? Had it been a preemptive response to an identifiable threat, or simply a generalized cautionary measure? When was it built? How long has it been here? The combined weight of these questions conjured a brief twist of unease in my gut, which was immediately chased by a bitter wave of guilt for having the audacity to think in such a way. After all, I owe my life, or at least what little of it remains, to the presence of this protective measure. The confidentiality afforded by its unofficial inception turned out to be its saving grace. Its rudimentary, one-man capacity proved adequately effective, only in the end it wasn’t the right man. This room was obviously only intended for Andrew’s use, and yet, when it really mattered, he was willing to entrust me with the knowledge necessary to access it. In turn, I’m now solely reaping the benefits of his foresight, while he’s up there going through who knows what. As I lie here, alone in the dark, accompanied by nothing but the cries of the mournful moon and my own inexorable guilt, the ruminations that ceaselessly haunt me revolve around a single factor: how long had that message been printed? Did he send it as soon as he saw the encroaching mob? As soon as the glass shattered? Or was it even earlier? Speculative as it may be, I can’t help but imagine he’d planned for me to fulfill the instructions preemptively, so that the trap door was already open when he arrived. He was counting on me, trusting me, and that’s what led to his demise. He didn’t know how weak I was, how weak I still am. He didn’t know that the scream had worn me down, breaking my will to act long before his. He didn’t know that I had fully disabled my hearing aids, forsaking any hope of hearing the subtle ding of the printer, or any other form of communication, in favor of easing my own suffering. Even now, encapsulated in earth and concrete, smothered by the ramifications of my [SELFISHNESS], I still can’t bring myself to reactivate them. You know, when I first joined the Foundation, I swore an oath to protect humanity. Not just humans, but humanity itself. That’s all I ever really wanted, to protect our species, not just in body but in spirit, to shield them from the horrors that our apathetic universe so frequently thrust upon us, to preserve their collective innocence even at the cost of my own. I’ve spent the last half-century working to fulfill that oath, in my own special way, and before all of this, I thought I had. I thought that made me a good person, and evidently, so did Andrew. I guess we both know better now. _ - WIP#8- SCREW THE DATE Something has shifted. I can’t describe it, there’s no explicit change to put words to, but I can sense it intuitively. At some unknown point during my sleepless, timeless entombment within that secret sepulcher, a threshold was breached. The moon’s cries, though continuous and unchanging, have acquired an asomatous edge of impending finality. Their sorrow has permeated beyond my conscious mind; I feel it in my bones, in my teeth, reverberating through the hollow vestiges of my very being. I am no longer myself. I am nothing more than a vector, channeling the profound and penultimate melancholy of the long-neglected moon. Their pain is my pain. Their pain is me. I am pain. I am only pain. Under the reflexive guidance of this cosmic affliction, I was wordlessly prompted to ascend from my pit of fermented repentance, birthed from that woeful womb as a new and alien entity. I numbly gazed across the office, in heavy disarray, but entirely devoid of people, living or dead. The same conditions had befallen the rest of Andrew’s quarters; collapsed and broken furniture, adorned with crumpled documents and tinseled with interlacing dental floss. Occasional bloodstains dotted the wreckage, the only biological remnants of the preceding altercation which now felt an eternity away. The largest crimson sigil marked the location of Andrew’s initial toppling, a cardinal reminder of his both literal and figurative downfall. The residence seemed to exude an innate judgment upon me, a monument to my failure as a scientist, EDICT, and friend. On some level, I was cognizant of these crushing criticisms, but the emotional burden they invoked was of little significance, as the waves of guilt were merely funneled into the already bottomless pit of despair within me. I left and didn’t look back. Under the night’s watchful eye, I aimlessly wandered among the ruins of PrimeSite-O, further absorbing the grief of seeing the fruits of my career in shambles. The hazardous haze of microscopic daggers that had incited the violence of the previous day, having long since diffused across the atmosphere of the zone, was now only alluded to by the total absence of any glass on the premises. Additionally, the site was densely interspersed with far more conspicuous evidence of its prior descent into anarchy. Conventional damage, presumably man-made in origin, was the most prevalent, but some scenes of destruction implied undoubtedly anomalous involvement, particularly near the Euclid and Keter containment facilities. Despite these ominous indicators, my surroundings remained still and devoid of activity. Once again, I encountered no people or deceased remains thereof, and I was eventually faced with the uncomfortable realization that I was the only one left. I get it now, the moon’s message, the reason I was trapped here while everyone else could leave. They’ve taken everything from me: My friends, my career, my research acumen, my moral integrity, my self-worth. The collective achievements of my lifetime, gradually excised by that rending howl. It wasn’t until I was fully stripped bare that I could truly understand the depths of their anguish. They suffered in solitude for so long, but now I share the weight of their burden. They’ve molded a companion out of me, their oldest friend, the first to notice the imperceptible cries they futilely beamed upon the Earth. I now have nothing left to give but the vacant husk of my physical form, and only now will they take that too. That leaves me here, in the front seat of my windowless car, staring through the dilapidated fence and into the empty expanse beyond. I know I’ll pass through it this time, but not what awaits me on the other side. Maybe I’ll enter the moon’s solacing embrace, or maybe I’ll meet total oblivion. In the end, the outcome is irrelevant; I can’t avoid it, nor do I want to. I’ve stalled long enough by writing this, though I can’t say why. Closure, perhaps. A farewell to my loyal confidant within this screen, before I proceed to the one in the sky. I’m ready now. It’s time for me to go. _ - WIP#9- 03/04/2007(?) Wow, I didn’t expect to ever write in this again. I really thought yesterday’s entry would be my last. Yet here I am, alive and unscathed, feeling better than ever, in fact. It’s amazing what a difference a nice long nap can make. Now that I’m (reasonably) rested and alert, all recollections of my thoughts and emotions over the preceding days appear fuzzy and nonsensical, as if the whole experience was nothing more than a long, nightmarish dream. If it weren’t for my journal chronicling the ordeal in extensive and vivid detail, I might have even assumed that’s all it was. It’s hard to believe that less than 24 hours ago, I was speeding toward the site’s perimeter, fully prepared for death, or possibly something even worse. The threshold embodied a truly absolute unknown. Clearly anomalous, the possibilities were infinite. Every conceivable outcome, as well as all inconceivable ones, were equally likely. I didn’t care at the time, of course, broken as my psyche was. I was accepting of any eventuality, or at least I thought I was. As it turned out, there was one potential result that could still catch me off-guard. Given my recent pervasive record of ignorance regarding these phenomena, it’s only fitting that it turned out to be accurate: Nothing happened to me at all. Upon fully crossing the border, I found myself to still be physically present, in the Australian outback, upon the same road I was using moments before. There were no unusual sensations like there were when I initially entered. No double-vision, no vertigo, no internal registry of the transition whatsoever. The event, or lack thereof, left me momentarily frozen in a state of thorough confusion. As such, it took me a moment to notice the few changes that had in fact occurred. Primesite-O was gone. As soon as I passed through the gates, the entire campus instantly and unceremoniously vanished. Instead, there was only the road, the same one I was traveling on, extending opposite to my trajectory for an unclear distance. Preternatural as this alteration was, it was promptly overshadowed by the only other noticeable change: The howl had stopped. Its cessation was abrupt, as though a switch was flipped precisely at the moment I crossed the border. Despite this, my ears initially struggled to comprehend its absence. I reactivated my hearing aids, cranked them as high as they could go, and still there was nothing, nothing at all. Until then, I had never truly understood how silence could be deafening, but the seemingly nonsensical turn of phrase perfectly captures my subsequent experience. The relief, the sheer euphoria induced by the auditory vacuum, was overwhelming. Its influence felt almost chemical in nature, and despite the smooth and unwavering trail before me, I felt the need to pull over while I acclimated to its intoxicating effects. I don’t know how long I stayed there, basking in the blissful calm of my empty, silent surroundings. Time felt ethereal to me in that state. Through the aperture that had once held my windshield, I watched the glowing, indigo tinge of dawn slowly creep across the sky, as the sun which had been halted for so long was finally granted passage across the horizon. The moon, content at last, began shifting to accommodate their fiery twin. There was something else, though, something more to the moon’s amended demeanor than their conclusion of screaming and resumption of motion. Subtle as it was, I’m surprised it took me so long to recognize it, given my lifelong career predicated on lunar research. The topographic arrangement of the dark side of the moon, now turned to face the Earth. Though familiar to me, their newfound illumination granted an additional air of elegance to their craterous contours. The expression was unmistakable; they were smiling. The elation exuded by that dazzling grin was palpable, as their magnificent face was finally revealed for all the world to see. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel happy for them, overjoyed in fact. Their contentment became infused with my own, and its combined potency unwittingly carried me into a deep, cathartic slumber. It was around mid-afternoon when I finally awoke, disoriented by the feeling of sleeping for both far too long and not long enough. My face was comically sunburned, and my car baked to the point that its metal components were untouchably hot. Without windows to insulate the AC, I was left with velocity as the only available means to cool myself and my vehicle. I sped down the single, continuous road for a while, unconcerned with traffic laws, until I finally came upon the promise of shade in the form of a gas station and adjacent convenience store. I’ve decided that this is as good a place as any to stay and wait for backup. I sent a distress signal to the nearest Auxiliary Site up in Kimberly, so they should be dispatching an escort team to pick me up soon, along with a tow truck for the car (It’s still technically functional, but I learned on the drive here that windshields got their name for a damn good reason). I tried my best to give a comprehensive rundown of the calamity that’s befallen PrimeSite-O, but it was understandably difficult through a short-form transmission. If nothing else, they should at least know by now that the site is compromised, since all remote communication was lost a day or so ago from their temporal perspective. There are probably recon units heading there already, not that they’ll find anything. I’ll no doubt be subjected to a lengthy interview process over the coming weeks as this incident is investigated. It’ll be a headache, and certainly not the note I wanted to end my career on, but I suppose I should just be grateful I got back safely at all. Hell, maybe the others did too, and the interviews have already begun. I sure hope that’s the case, but that would be ideal, and in my experience the ideal scenario is usually too good to be true. I guess I’ll find out soon enough. _ - WIP#10- THE END I fucked up. I really, really fucked up. My actions were foolishly naive, that much is obvious now, but there’s no going back. I’ve mulled it over for hours now, but I still don’t see any way out of this. Not even the Foundation can save me now, it seems. As much as I want to deny it, I need to face the facts. My fate is sealed. I waited at that goddamn gas station for hours, but no one came. I tried every official avenue of contact permitted by my clearance level; all the prime and auxiliary site comms, the direct lines of every department I knew, portable MTF receivers, and still no answer. I don’t think they even went through, as I just kept getting no-dial tones. I even tried Andrew’s comm unit, though that unsurprisingly yielded the same result. It’s probably still at the site, wherever that is. Finally, as a last resort, I tried Andrew’s personal phone number. He gave it to me some years ago, during a conference we were running. Strictly against protocol, of course, but it made co-coordinating the event much easier, and I haven’t used it since. From what I’ve been told, he almost never even has it on his person these days, instead keeping it at his rarely-occupied private residence. I knew calling it was a long shot if there ever was one, but to my surprise and relief, he actually picked up. Just hearing his voice immediately made me more relaxed, partly because I was finally in touch with the Foundation in some capacity, but mostly just due to the assurance that he was still alive. I told him as much, but he didn’t return the sentiment. He was unusually deadpan throughout the call, and didn’t seem receptive to any kind of discussion beyond curtly asking where I was and telling me he was on his way. He concluded the interaction by telling me to stay put, repeating it several times in a tone that seemed oddly forceful and deliberate, then hung up as soon as I agreed. In hindsight, it was obvious that something was amiss, but I refused to allow myself to acknowledge it. Not wanting to spoil my newfound comfort, I dismissed his strange demeanor as an understandable symptom of his recent traumatic experiences, or perhaps a concerted effort to maintain discretion while using a civilian line, any excuse that would allow me to stifle the budding concern that was clearly warranted. I know it was stupid, incredibly so, but I had been parked at that gas station for almost an entire day at that point, and my patience had reached its limit. I wanted a bed, I wanted a shower, I wanted to settle this whole fiasco and move on with my life. It was just another in a long list of cases where self-interest has clouded my judgment. It seems I won’t be able to weasel or bunker my way out of this one, though. The consequences have finally come home to roost. At least this time, I’ll be the only one to suffer them. Andrew arrived within the hour, in a car I didn’t recognize, accompanied by a young woman I had never met. Though I was glad to see him in the flesh, seemingly unscathed save for a bandaged nose, I could no longer ignore the intuitive feeling that something wasn’t right. As they exited the vehicle, I noticed his outfit, while professional, lacked his PrimeSite-O Director’s badge or any Foundation insignias, granting him the appearance of an ordinary, albeit well-dressed, civilian. This would make sense in the context of covert operations, and although such endeavors were far outside of Andrew’s qualifications, it was nevertheless forgivable if not somewhat odd. However, the woman’s attire was a stark departure from any Foundation standards: a purple T-shirt, denim jeans, and sneakers. The car they arrived in was similarly informal, with several haphazardly applied decals of unfamiliar yet clearly unofficial origin. As strange as these observations were, my confusion was soon compounded tenfold as I saw a police cruiser pull into the lot, parking alongside them. Two officers emerged, and the four of them conversed with each other for a bit, before Andrew and his unknown companion began to approach. I stood motionless, struggling to process the events unfolding before me. I hoped that Andrew would provide some clarity, but he instead adopted a bystanding position, watching silently as the mystery girl proceeded. Before I had time to react, she hugged me, squeezing my torso and awkwardly immobilizing my arms with a seemingly authentic sincerity. Her following words, the first I’d ever heard from her, served as a final blow of bewilderment, plunging me into a state of disorientation bordering on physical vertigo. “Dad! Where have you been? I was so worried!” She kept talking, but her words were eclipsed by my reeling thoughts. I never had children, never even came close. Looking past her, I centered my sight on Andrew, ejecting a disorganized jumble of questions as my mouth and mind frantically grasped for an iota of understanding. What was going on? Did he report what happened to the higher-ups? What happened back at the site? Where are all the other staff? I searched his face for any sign of understanding, but there was none. He just stared blankly as he repeated my words, his genuine confusion evident in his tone, until Mystery Girl broke my fruitless inquisition. She spoke softly to Andrew, as though I wouldn’t be able to hear, saying that I must think I’m still working with him at U-W-A, giving no elaboration as to what that even is, before returning her attention to me, her face and voice donning a patronizing pretense of simplistic cordiality that only bolstered my burgeoning annoyance. “Dad, you’re retired now, remember? Andrew was nice enough to cancel his lecture today to come get you with me. We’re going home now, okay?”. She held my arm, attempting to lead me back to their car, but I recoiled. I was sick of her interference. I wanted to talk to Andrew, the only person who could possibly explain what the hell was going on. Admittedly, his continued reticence frustrated me to a point of unprofessional and unwise enragement. I pointed out the bandages on his face, shouted about the angry mob that tackled him to the ground right in front of me just a few days ago. This got the attention of the cops, but Andrew merely brushed away my outburst, telling them it was from a bicycling accident. A fucking bicycling accident. I was incredulous. Though their faces remained placid, I could tell that my escalating hostility had put them all on edge. They began to tighten their perimeter around me, the police strategically encircling in both directions, until I was cornered against the side of the convenience store. I came to the bitter realization that, despite the storm of emotions within me, I was faced with no real choice but to capitulate to their desires, whatever they may be. In a final, desperate Hail-Mary, I recalled a trick used by various agents under my employ over the years. Though I’d never had to use it myself, it was essentially common knowledge in the Foundation, something that Andrew, the almost-EDICT, would surely be familiar with. Despite his thoroughly convincing display of ignorance throughout the ordeal, I still held a sliver of hope that it was only a veneer he had assumed, for reasons that I simply wasn’t privy to at the moment. That slight yet steadying prospect was finally obliterated when I asked the question to which he, of all people, should definitely know the answer, and was met with only a resounding silence. The next thing I knew, they had ushered me into the backseat of their civilian vehicle, their counterfeit smiles poorly concealing the compulsory nature of my transport. A tow truck came to collect my rental car, taking it somewhere for repairs. Mystery Girl not only claimed it was her own, but insisted that I wasn’t allowed to be driving at all, admonishing me for its broken windows as if I were a child. Any objections I made to the contrary were outright ignored; the police didn’t say a single word to me directly throughout the whole affair. Stifled by such a brazen disregard for my thoughts and feelings, my furious indignation was eventually extinguished, giving way to a hopeless despondency. I now lay in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar house, and yet I’m surrounded by reflections and impressions of myself. Framed pictures of me, Mystery Girl, and other strangers, hugging and smiling in places I’ve never been, doing things I’ve never done. A PhD with my name on it, from the University of Western Australia, hangs framed on the wall; It’s in literature of all things. A series of books sit upon a shelf, my name embossed along their spines, but they aren’t the same books I found in Andrew’s office. They’re fiction novels, mostly sci-fi/fantasy it seems, and, if I may go so far as to judge a book by its cover, pretty mediocre. I’ve been told the prose in my journal entries tend to lean toward the artistic, if not a bit pretentious. Perhaps there’s some credence to those claims after all. The more I observe my surroundings, telling the story of a life that, logically, I know is not my own, the more strongly I feel, on some innate, primal level, that it could be. These vestiges, echoing stagnant potentials within me, are somehow increasingly contending with my authentic memories. I partially fear, and partially hope, that I will soon lose sight of their distinction. Andrew is long gone at this point, taking any hope of answers with him. He drove away almost immediately after dropping us off at this unassuming, utterly ordinary suburban dwelling that is ostensibly my home, as well as Mystery Girl’s. I thought he’d exit the car as well, that he’d accompany us into the house, at least long enough that I could take him aside and pick his brain for more clues. By the time I realized my mistake, he was already shifting into gear. He gave me nothing more than a “take care” and a look of candid sympathy before driving off to who knows where, leaving me stuck at this random residence, in the hands of this complete stranger who doesn’t even seem to realize she’s a stranger, and, as I soon found out, the aforementioned cops as well. The three of them guided me to “my” bedroom, telling me to get some rest while they had a “private discussion”. I tried to eavesdrop twice, but on both occasions I was quickly discovered and once again directed back to the bedroom. During my first foray, I managed to hear Mystery Girl saying something along the lines of “he’s had episodes before but never this bad”. Her tone portrayed extreme distress. On my second and far briefer venture, I caught one of the cops mentioning “long-term care options” and holding several pamphlets. Mystery girl looked to be on the verge of tears. Upon my latter apprehension, it was clear that their patience had grown thin. One of the cops is standing outside the bedroom door now, so any further attempts at reconnaissance would surely be foiled. Disheartening as it is to accept, I have come to the conclusion that I am, in essence, a prisoner here. The sense of powerlessness invoked by this fact is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Even the worst points of my debacle at PrimeSite-O feel somehow tame in comparison to this moment. The sheer depths of futility I now face, forsaken by the very world that I dedicated my life to trying to protect, is all-consuming. As I lie here, agency abolished, I watch through the window as the moon’s luminous face breaches the skyline, and they, my sole witness, watch me in turn. Their newly-imparted smile, gentle yet potent in its sentiment, is the only tangible indicator of the reality of my former existence, and it occurs to me that I have relieved them of their burden by adopting it as my own. I now occupy the same role in this world that they had for so long: present but unseen. screaming but unheard, unimaginably alone. Is this a form of poetic retribution? I don’t think so; I feel no animosity towards or from my cosmic companion. Rather, I feel a kinship, an immutable bond through the symmetry of our circumstances. I alone was there for them, heard them, and now they alone hear me. Their expression is one of immeasurable gratitude, for they recognize the ultimate sacrifice I’ve made to provide them with the priceless gift of significance. Perhaps it was out of this appreciation that the contents of my touchpad were preserved with relative integrity amid this universal transition. The Standard-Clearance introductory file for SCP-8416 appears largely unchanged, as are my most recent journal entries, though they are all now saved in an unencrypted folder titled “Story WIP”. Not only that, but with the Foundation-issue firewalls now absent, I can connect to the civilian internet. I think this is the moon’s way of reimbursing my lost identity, at least as much as they possibly can. I can post these chronicles for the world to see, sharing my story, my real story, with the inhabitants of this new reality, with the caveat that they will never accept them as true. No one will ever believe these events, my life, my very self to be real. Still, perhaps I don’t have to be real to be remembered. Perhaps my story, even if only a story, can still hold a place in people’s hearts and minds, and isn’t that what really matters? In the end, isn’t that all our reality is? They’re coming up the stairs now. Whatever happens next, I won’t resist. My story is complete, and all I ask of anyone reading this is to please, please remember it. Please remember me. Footnotes 1. From Earth, this means SCP-8416 remains focused on each SCP-8416-1 zone for as long as the moon is visible in the sky from its location, atmospheric conditions notwithstanding. 2. For a complete and detailed list of specific documented narratives, see Supplementary Document 8416.N. 3. See: Analysis of Feedback Mechanism within RN-Positive Memetic Constructs (Rattigan et. al, 1965) 4. A research program dedicated to discovering methods of remote anomaly detection and observation, established in 1948 in order to avoid exacerbating political tensions stemming from the Cold War through direct Foundation interference. 5. This results in approximately 45 seconds of immersion within SCP-8416-1E when traveling downstream on the river at a passive speed. 6. Original message included an attached file titled “8416_Research_Overview_(Rattigan)”. 7. Y:8 N:3 A:1 8. Pronounced like “cue”. 9. Executive Director of International Coordination and Transport 10. Designation of the central residential compound within PrimeSite-O. Contains private domiciles for both temporary and indefinite habitation, as well as communal dining and recreational facilities. 11. Authorized contact channels are listed in the Digital Foundation Directory ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8416" by Wildman8, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8416. 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: DTBMH4-fin1.jpg Name: 527006main farside.1600 Author: NASA/GSFC/Arizona State University License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by Wildman8 Filename: DTBMH16-fin1.jpg Name: Equal Earth projection SW Author: Daniel R. Strebe License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Edited by Wildman8 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.