Apoplexic's Secondary Viewscreen

Today's Feature Presentation:

HEY YOU FUCKERS!!!

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His first thought was of the child, no doubt moments before bouncing cheerfully in Santa's lap, giddy with excitement that they would finally get that perfect toy, now screaming, desperate to untangle themselves from half of a torso. His second thought was to marvel at the timing; they'd use the heavy grade amnestics now, for the sake of the poor child. And as the aperture from AI:64Ψ-0012 closed, terminating the visceral scene with a squelch, Christopher's third thought congratulated himself for choosing Eastland Mall; hundreds of families echoed the screaming child, their collective shock building rapidly into hysteria, their bodies pumped full of adrenaline and cortisol.

Primed for induction, but only for a moment. His next words thundered across the mall, enhanced by the megaphone cataloged as AI:17-068ث.

"Ǫ̈N'BLIṦ G'NḮ ȒZQ'XA."

The phrase brought a stillness to the crowd, as their panic was caught, bottled, and stowed in their subconscious minds. He had, quite literally, their full and complete attention, for exactly one hundred and eight minutes.

Christopher allowed himself a moment to reminisce.

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"This is ridiculous." She plopped on the couch, leaning against him with a heavy sigh. "She doesn't get a place to sleep, can't have blankets; they won't even give her clothes! She has to sit in that cell, surrounded by lights all the time, but she's 'too dangerous' to be even afforded simple human decency. We work for monsters."

"Elizabeth, you know you're not allowed to talk to me about this." She elbowed him gently in the ribs as he started massaging her shoulders. "Take it to EthCom; you've been wanting to for a while. Maybe now's the time? It's affecting your research, and that makes you a poor researcher.

"Besides, we don't work for the monsters, we contain the monsters. They'll listen; you've got this."

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He lowered the volume on the megaphone a bit before continuing; wouldn't do any good to damage the eardrums of his captive audience. He spoke deliberately, giving his words time to sink through their mired brains and settle deep inside.

"What if I told you there were monsters in the world? Genuine, terrifying monsters, capable of ripping you to shreds with nothing but a thought? Moving, infections globs of flesh, raspberries that could swallow reality whole? These things exist! You know this, now, because I have told you; because that first phrase I spoke, something called a cognitohazard, has forced you to listen, and is making you believe.

"It's terrifying, isn't it?

"Now, imagine that there is a secret organization, spread across the globe and operating longer than anyone remembers. The sole reason for its existence is to secure these monsters, contain the threats they pose to life itself, and protect us all. We would be safe, we would be guarded. This organization is called the Foundation, and they watch over the world and keep us alive. They secure, they contain, and they protect; we don't need to worry about the monsters, and that is wonderful.

"Sometimes, though, the monsters are people we love. Your child could be born with abilities not meant for this world, and truly dangerous traits that could kill many, many people. I weep with the parents whose children are unfortunate enough to be cursed like this. But, is everyone not someone's child? How many lives are worth just one? All of them? It is terrible, yes, but the other option is undeniably worse.

"So we trust the Foundation to make these difficult decisions for us. We trust them to do what is right, and good, and to save the world."

His eyes scanned the back of the crowd. There was movement, small lights popping up here and there; other people from the mall, too far away to be caught by the hazard, had arrived to the shocking scene. The cameras were out; he wagered at least six were streaming. He glanced at the three watches strapped to his arm below AI:64Ψ-0012.

Ninety-nine minutes, twelve seconds.

"To save us from the monsters."

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This is ridiculous! The girl can't even have clothes? We are not animals, let her cover herself! -Dr. Ericka Bodeen

Dr. Bodeen, you are granted permission to deliver clothes to SCP-029. -Dr. Light

They showed him the document, showed him the video. Made him watch as his wife was murdered by that thing. Christopher Bodeen knew the risks of the job; so did she. Her death was hard, but he would have dealt with it. He could have moved on, were it not for the smug faces of the Amnestics Department agents as they explained how his wife would be an example for future researchers, and how he should be proud that her life would have a long-lasting effect on the safety of Foundation staff.

They explained to him how valuable he was to his projects, how much they loved his enthusiasm and dedication. They said it would be easier for the drugs to work if he understood, if he accepted the reasons the Ethics Committee had sided with Light. And then four large men strapped him to a table, as though his struggles were the meager squirms of a child, and injected him with their memory-wiping fluids.

And he forgot. For a while.

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  • The Foundation is the real monster, taking your children and spouses and family to use as text subjects. They could destroy most of the monsters but they don't. More time passes.
  • Flashback: This is the longer one. Chris does stuff, then he remembers, then he starts to plot his revenge. The portal watch gets an anomalous item entry; the megaphone probably won't but it's truly not interesting.
  • He starts naming names.
    • The nearby site has picked up on the streams, and reacts accordingly.
  • Flashback: Chris meets with mysterious stranger Connie and steals the portal watch and megaphone.
  • One of the people in the crowd is from the Foundation and has a chip in her head; Chris recognizes her.
    • The site activates the chip, breaking the hazard, and she starts to respond.
  • Chris calls her out to the crowd and gets shot in the shoulder; he ends the hazard early with it's anti-hazard or w/e, and falls into a portal in the floor.
  • Agents respond.

Ending Ideas

  • He gets caught and goes to trial.
    • Demoted to D or straight up killed
    • (I like this one) Amnesticized again.
  • He just gets shot or something
  • He meets back up with Connie, who then kills him herself
    • Connie was just using him for something else.
    • Connie is a good Foundation employee and so killed him because she should have.

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