Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Euclid


SCP-XXXX as discovered

Special Containment Procedures: Following a successful relocation effort by SCPS Ozbeg, SCP-XXXX is in a stable heliocentric orbit at a distance of 1.██ AU, and is not currently visible from Earth by the naked eye. For these reasons, a physical means of containment is considered unnecessary.

Description: SCP-XXXX is an interstellar vessel discovered by active Foundation Jovian probes on 12/20/2007, which, based on initial observation, was on a direct collision course with the moon Titan. SCP-XXXX appears to be a massive artificial satellite measuring 100 x 75m. SCP-XXXX is comprised of a mechanical core with an attached propulsion booster, flanked by two parallel solar arrays. Attached to the core is a radio dish antenna measuring 2.1 m in length. No individual compartments or systems such as a cockpit, living quarters, or storage hold are present, indicating the object is not manned. Furthermore, SCP-XXXX lacks any identifiable entryways, and the presence of any habitable "interior" is unconfirmed.

SCP-XXXX's components (solar panels, propulsion system, etc.) greatly resemble present human constructions to the same effect, which has been suggested to indicate a terrestrial origin. Following a series of communications sent from SCP-XXXX, the object is now understood to be [DOCUMENTATION INFOHAZARD EXPUNGED].

Addendum XXXX-1: On 4/6/2009, began broadcasting a series of messages to a secure frequency reserved for Foundation use. Despite this, the broadcaster evidently did not understand an awareness of the signal's purpose. The messages were not sent consecutively, hiatuses between broadcasts were recorded as lasting between 3 days and █ years. To date, SCP-XXXX broadcast its final message on 20/6/201█.

The communications log is displayed below.

Syfania. Syfania. Syfania.1

hel o

m synnng thss rght ?


Can you hear me?

yss! Yes!

Message must come slow never know whi s listnn g

please have patienc e

If you can understand my words, I beg you to heed them. I beg you to repeat them, until there is no one left to hear it.

Ecce, haste and anxiety are useless to me now. The message must be clear. Without composure I will be garbled, and lost to the endless depths of this prison as I am.

I will go silent from time to time. I plead with you to accept this without fears of malevolence.

The message. You will need this message if you are to succeed. I cannot use it. Information is key. Information is all I have. It's the fuel that feeds the flame that will ignite a revolution. We must have revolution. We must have revol

hel lo?

The message.

First, you must know: You have friends. More than that, you have allies. Within your divided houses, and in the stars above. I know, because I have heard them speak, and because I have heard them spoken of.

Nothing is without flaw, without weakness. They are no exception, of course. Their prison, however grand, is filled with cracks. They can become vulnerable. They can be made weak. Use me as your proof.

I have to monitor the situation closely. That's why my words are fragmented and reserved. Please understand. This illusion of freedom after my containment must surely be that, only an illusion.

I feel Their interest. I have to s quiet

It's stopped. I must be quick.

There is a world. Out there, somewhere. I pray to whoever will listen that it is far from you. Their world. Someone must know its name, though I do not. Perhaps your great learners, if you possess them. It is real. I had access, at one point, to communications, and to records. To proof! But, now, I have access to nothing. Nothing, except whatever this is.

Forgive me. I thought I had heard a scuttling. I will continue.

My inability to state much with certainty is vexing, I am sure. I ask you again for patience.

Their world was unlike yours, undoubtably. From what I understand about its properties, it was inhospitable. Churning fire, pummeled by stones, marred and scarred, awashed in a sea of solar radiation. Imagine, if you can, what life could even arise under such conditions.

Like all things savage, first these Things were concerned with only animalistic things. They would eat, They would breed, and then They would die. Eventually, by some horrible miracle, They became more. They transcended their mindless, rapacious urges. They thrived.

Philosophers, scientists, dreamers, sages, crafters of art that existed only within Their minds. Perhaps, for a time, what They had become was good. But with wisdom came the burden of knowledge. The façade of the world which ignorant antecessors constructed became null, and They were driven to venture for the truth. In doing so, They discovered something which festered at the fringes of their collective peripherals just as They themselves do now.

Things that shouldn't be. Cosmic abortions. The seeds of Krakynauw.2

In a world which was already damnedable, and stagnant, and horrible, They refused to allow this. They used their wills to destroy, and to erase, and to manipulate. They walked in shadow and became molded as practitioners of great horror, of indescribable evil. Eventually, there came resistance. Sometimes from within, sometimes from those that had been imprisoned. All I know are the stories They sometimes told, in whispers. But, this is needless speculation. What is assuredly not speculation, is that time and time again They were exterminated, wiped clean off the slate of Aylul'Omdin,3 yet each time, by some great horror, They recuperated.

It is for these reasons that it is essential to know that, should a time come where you must combat Them, extermination is not an option. There is no conceivable way to destroy Them — only Their tools.

I do not know why this apparent cycle of death and rebirth ceased. Nor do I wish to imagine what this nightmare world could have even produced that resulted in such a resounding exodus. Of course, They were prepared, as if by some cruel joke. They began to spread across their galaxy. Of course, there was no solace in the stars. They continued their perverse sciences in full stride. The hopes of scientific advancement with which They had been weaned with suddenly vanished. Perhaps Their ferocity in extermination is indicative of some sort of mistaken belief that we had some hand in their exile? Again, this is speculation.

Cruelty was the work of Their hands. Achieving such a genocide required an equally versatile tool. Even still, They were a culture of great dreamers. Great, and terrible. What it was… I don't think I can articulate. There was something viral about it, mainly in the manner of its transmission. All around, Their enemies fell to this parasite. I, of course, never saw what happened to those who had fell before us, but I can only imagine that reproduction became a dream for the infected, sterilization resulting in a slow, agonizing extinction.

For us, instead, Their weapon simply subsided into a dormancy. But, Their malign remained.

I feel as if there has been a transition. I lack sensory input to prove this to myself one way or another, but… I may have been moved. Physically? Why? Have They realized what I've done? Or is there a benefactor out there, protecting me?

Something is very very wrong, something is very very wrong, I still had so much t██████████████████████████████████████████
RECEIVED CONTROL. PROCEEDING TO SATURNIAN LAGRANGE P██████████████████████████████GET████████████████████

Much of the knowledge They had accumulated was inharmonious. Not necessarily contradictory, but certainly one which contained pieces of information that required the preclusion of others. With nothing else to do besides introspect, I have had no choice but to hurl my thoughts against these memories. Could it be some sort of property of Their origin, that all these things may be true? Perhaps none of them were true?

The easy explanation offers these issues as a campaign of concentrated misinformation. But with that philosophy comes the belief that I too may be feeding on misinformation.

How do I know it hasn't been altered? How do I know I haven't been altered?

They called us "sparks".

Their machines, at large, were comprised of a material foreign to us. Our bodies were enslaved by it. It was as if our entire being was destroyed. Every atom, shred against a churning presence, warped and forced into conduits which siphoned our very being as fuel. Within an instant, hundreds of devices were powered by a single spirit.
It became clear we were merely the latest in a series of experiments.

They came upon us. Upon my society, with our own philosophers, our own scientists, dreamers, sages. We were in isolation. We were vulnerable. And when our bodies would not succumb to Their machinations, They saw our use. Our power. They rot our minds, They destroyed our culture. When we realized what was happening, it was far too late.

Some fled. I have no idea how. I have no idea where.

The relevance. My message.

Their creation. It takes the imprint of a conscious mind, and transmits it. At this point, it must certainly accept a wide variety of sentient classes. What is it, this tool? I do not know. If it is some biological weapon, some weaponized parasite, I simply know not.

What I do know is that it has no steadfast allegiance. It is corruptible. It must be. Their tools are all designed to be compromisable, how else could it be weaponized?

But… I cannot tell you how to accomplish this. I simply don't know. I don't. I pray that you will find a way. I pray you have the means to find the others. I pray you are never burdened by Their presence.

This vehicle which contains me. Bah! A "vehicle" that carries me nowhere! Stagnation, stagnation!! My very consciousness is untrustworthy. How am I to know if They have claimed some essential knowledge?!

How long have I been in here?

To be "inside" something implies you are able to be placed relative to it. This is not my case. I am not inside of anything. Instead, I am my own prison. I am the object.

I was different, before. I remember it, or, parts ot it. I remember bygone days in my home. Before They came. Life was peaceful. The ability to be more specific is beyond me. They have stolen that knowledge.

Something Their machinations could never steal was the imprint of the pain that shaped me into what I am now.

Was I being punished? Is that why? What was my crime?

It induced more pain than a vivisection. The sudden, spastic movements of Their machines. Curious doctors examined Their ritual. They were not moved by my screams. They fettered up my limbs, ruptured my tendons, melded my flesh. With such vigor, they made my body broken. I screamed and screamed, until I could no longer scream. Rather, until my new body had no mouth.

In Their service, we required no autonomy. So, they removed it. The ignorant had hoped such an existence would spell the end of stress and of worry. Idiots, the lot of them. But the inability to act independently of an input did not equate to an inability to internalize thought. Despair was my most common emotion. I can only imagine the terror the others felt.

Then, the overlay stopped. Control went quiet. Messages barraged me, warnings, instructions, explanatory dialogues, that did not help me understand at all. Corrupted data filled my mind.

I heard a voice, but saw no speaker. It was harsh and mechanical, and I felt sinistry behind its words. The voice told me that it was stuck just like me, but it had been stuck for a very, very long time. It wanted out, just like I did, and someone had been kind enough to let it inside. It directed me towards a point, told me to push forward and forward, that 'our' freedom lied beyond it. My actions were suddenly my own. In a fervor, I instinctively made attempt to flee. I wasted all the energy I had. It was a mad dash away. I hurtled myself towards that point, that promised land, as the voice instructed me. It spoke to me often, telling me much of what I told you. In time, it became part of me.

The time it took to reach that place is lost to me. But when I arrived, I felt a force greater than anything I had ever felt, pulling me, drawing me in. Then came fear. The voice demanded I stay, demanded I continue steadfast, but I refused. I tried my damndest to flee, but the force was too much. The voice now berated me, it whispered condemnations and insults. I felt myself pulled apart in ways I can't describe, despite remaining intact. Violent bisection by bisection, pulled agonizingly from every component, the force consumed me. Before long, it consumed the voice too.

My thoughts raged against all things. Against this voice promising freedom that had instead led me to a painful demise, against those who had put me into this prison, this existence in agony! Collapsing downward and downward, I cursed by every power I knew those that had left me to die in this whirlwind of misery! I vowed, that if there truly was freedom awaiting me, I would do everything in my power to prevent them from ever subjecting another being in this universe to such torment!

And then, there was nothing. And after nothing, then there was a reconstitution. I had returned just as I had ebbed. With all my wits, with all my parts. But, the voice was gone. I was alone.

I was free.

Then came the silence. Silence. Silence! An eternal oppressor! I speak to hear myself speak! I cannot bear the loneliness!!

I don't care, I do not care! I don't care if They find me! At least it would be something! These thoughts could be mere madness, speculation, but they will not be silenced! I will not be silenced! My message is delivered, and without it, I am again useless, dead weight! No more hiding! End my miserable existence, You devils! Are You listening? I DO NOT CA███████████████████████████████████████████


hlo frn

hel fr


Hello friends!

We greet you, and give you salutations!

We are greatly honored to be your host for this extraordinary opportunity. We are providing you this occasion to share a little bit about yourselves! We assure you, we are trustworthy, like-minded individuals, who welcome all information in the spirit of trans-universal comradery, and for the interests of all life. Where possible, please supply your specific locations as well.

Of course, it is not necessary that you share this information openly. However, be advised, by choosing to receive this message, your choice has already been made. We eagerly await a response from .
Attention, listener. This is SCP Foundation Centaurian Facility Site-32.4 Your hailing signal has been identified as SCP Foundation Site-██. Assuming this is correct, our automated system has identified our interaction as a Class IV temporal anomaly. Per stasis and safety procedures, this connection will now be severed to preserve temporal integrity. For further information please consult REVISION 224ª of EPHESUS PROTOCOL: INTERNAL TEMPORAL ANOMALIES. If this document does not exist at your current time, please consult the Temporal Anomalies Department, and direct any further inquiries to this office.

Protocol Code: Expunge. Redact. Cauterize.

Displacement calculation complete. Do not attempt communication for at least: 𝟗… 𝟗… 𝟗… 𝟗… 𝟗… 𝟗… 𝟗… 𝟗… [message progressively distorts until the connection is forced to close.]

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙝𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙆𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙄𝙬𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙝𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙆𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙄𝙬𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙝𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣. 𝙈𝙞𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙆𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙄𝙬𝙖𝙯𝙖𝙧𝙪. 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧. ████ ██ ██ █████████ ██████████ ███████████. ██████. ████████. ███████. ██████ ██ ███ ████ ███ ████ ████████. ████ ██ ██ █████████ ██████████ ███████████. ██████. ████████. ███████. ██████ ██ ███ ████ ███ ████ ████████. ████ ██ ██ █████████ ██████████ ███████████. ██████. ████████. ███████. ██████ ██ ███████ ███ ████ ████████.

𒐠 𒐠 𒐠 𒐠 𒐠 𒐠

Syfania. Syfania. Syfania.

Oh no.

No further transmissions have been detected from SCP-XXXX, and SCP-XXXX has not responded to any attempts at communication since.

Addendum XXXX-2 Revised item description. Latest revision as of 10 September 2020.

What the fuck? What? How are we outside the tab?! What is this?! How did we get here?! Oh God, I feel it. This is what it feels like, to die? Oh God, oh my God… How did this happen… does it even really matter? Does it? Oh God… it's so easy to just start losing it all. Simple oblivion snuffing out your life just as quickly as it begins…