Per 
Item #: SCP-5184
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5184 is to be kept in a three-by-three meter wide/tall, fifty-point-eight millimeter thick glass display case atop a one-point-twenty-one-meter-tall wooden pedestal. This pedestal is to be kept in the center of a fifty-by-fifty meter concrete containment chamber. In the case of a SCP-5184-1 manifestation, the personnel within the observation room of SCP-5184 are to be evacuated to a safe distance; evacuation of personnel directly observing SCP-5184 should be carried out to about two kilometers away from Site-██. Once SCP-5184-1 is confirmed to be neutralized or at the least in a passive state, personnel can be returned to the site.
Description: SCP-5184 is an old, rusted anchor retrieved from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Samples tested confirm the anchor to have been made of brass, although attempts to discern the age of SCP-5184 and the origin have so far failed or have been otherwise inconclusive.
SCP-5184's primary anomalous property activates when any kind of sea-faring vessel runs aground or otherwise wrecks on, around, or within the immediate vicinity of the continent it's on. When SCP-5184 "detects" a shipwreck of some kind, it will summon an instance of SCP-5184-1 through unknown means. SCP-5184-1 is a blue, incorporeal humanoid, appearing to be dressed in an antiquated diver's outfit. It is noted, however, that several glowing yellow lights similar in appearance to eyes are seen ringing the "face" of the entity's diving helmet. Attempts to make physical contact with SCP-5184-1 result in the individual attempting to make contact being doused in salt water and having whatever extremity employed (most typically their hands) covered in barnacles. The means by which the water and the barnacles are apparently generated are still unknown. SCP-5184-1 has two effective "states," with one being notably more aggressive than the other and triggering an anomalous memetic effect in any and all individuals directly perceiving it while in this aggressive state.
This memetic affect causes those afflicted to immediately believe themselves to be members of the crew of the USAS [REDACTED], a ship known to have been lost shortly after losing a naval battle with [DATA EXPUNGED]. Those affected by SCP-5184-1's memetic property will carry out the activities, vocalizations, and emotions of random crew members until SCP-5184-1 either calms down or simply ceases manifesting. What causes SCP-5184-1 to stop manifesting is still up for debate, but it is largely believed that it enters its enraged state when a ship wrecks because it lost a naval battle with another ship and disappears upon running itself out of energy by manifesting its anomalous memetic property. This anomalous effect was first discovered while transporting SCP-5184 to Site-██ from [REDACTED], where it had been put up for sale in an underground antique collectors' ring. The Foundation was alerted to the presence of the object by news reports in the area reporting the string of unexplained suicides and apparent self-mutilations. Local law enforcement had seized SCP-5184 as evidence in the case and a Foundation plant in the area had alerted the Foundation to the anomalous object's presence when SCP-5184-1 manifested and wandered around the evidence store room of the [REDACTED] Police Department. During transport SCP-5184-1 manifested on-board the helicopter and although it didn't manifest its anomalous property, it alarmed the Foundation agents responsible for its transport significantly and very nearly crashed the helicopter. It manifested its anomalous memetic effect upon reaching Site-██, however, resulting in the deaths of at least seven Foundation agents and three senior researchers by [DATA EXPUNGED].
Dr. ████ attempted to conduct an interview with a D-Class affected by SCP-5184-1, although was notably completely unable to cause the D-Class to react to any stimuli. The D-Class simply continued to pantomime mopping the floor of SCP-5184's containment cell. At one point, the D-Class began to react as though there were tremors rocking the room back and forth despite no actual activity occurring. After approximately thirty minutes of stumbling about the chamber and seeming to catch himself on surfaces that did not appear to exist. the D-Class fell to the right violently before sinking directly through the floor. Dr. ████ ordered that the spot where they had fallen through the floor be excavated. Upon excavation, it was revealed that the D-Class had suffocated after falling about twenty meters straight down through the floor. He was encased in dirt and limestone, although it is notable his body appeared to have been stuck in a pose suggesting he had fallen to the bottom of the ocean and drowned. When SCP-5184 manifests in a more passive mood, it is noted to be capable of communication with Foundation personnel via Morse code, transmitted by blinking the lights around its "face" and is apparently content to simply sit in SCP-5184's containment chamber and wait until it disappears again. Included below is a log of an interview between Dr. ████ and SCP-5184-1:
Interviewed: SCP-5184-1
Interviewer: Dr. ████
Foreword: SCP-5184-1 manifested within its containment chamber and Dr. ████ noted its passive state. Seeing an opportunity, he had a security team accompany him into the chamber to try and make contact with the entity. An assistant researcher brought an audio recorder to keep a record of the interview.
<Begin Log>
Dr. ████: Hello. Are you capable of communication? Can you understand us?
SCP-5184-1: (The entity is silent for a few moments as it appears to stare blankly at Dr. ████. It then begins to flash the yellow lights ringing its face in a pattern quickly recognized by the Doctor and his assistant as Morse. One of the security team members understands Morse code, and offers a real-time translation.) "Yes. I understand your words."
Dr. ████: Incredible. Alright, why don't you tell me your name and what you are doing?
SCP-5184-1: (The entity pauses for a while before beginning to communicate again.) "My name is [REDACTED], and I am drowning. My men are dying. Is this heaven?"
Dr. ████: (The Doctor is silent for a moment, taking in the statement as the security officer translates.) I'm sorry, Mr. [REDACTED]. I wish I could tell you your men are alright, but they appear to have died as well. This certainly is not heaven. What is your connection to the anchor on the table there?
SCP-5184-1: "I cannot be here. Sir, if I am dead, take me to heaven or to hell. I cannot be here."
Dr. ████: I'm very sorry, [REDACTED]. We cannot help you. But we need to know why you do what you do. What is your connection to the anchor and how do you manifest your anomalous properties?
SCP-5184-1: "I…I don't know what you're talking about. There is no anchor, not anymore. The whole ship…She's gone. She's gone, she's gone!" (At this point, the entity becomes noticeably agitated. Dr. ████ calls an end to the interview, but fails to evacuate in time to avoid SCP-5184-1's memetic effect.)
<End Log.>Closing Statement: During the interview, SCP-5184-1 seemed heavily disoriented and confused as to its condition and current whereabouts. When Dr. ████ pressed his line of questioning further, SCP-5184-1 became agitated; leading to the memetic anomaly triggering. Dr. ████ began pantomiming a person swimming frantically, recorded by security cameras present in the containment chamber as having actually begun moving upwards through the air while making swim-stroke motions with his hands desperately. At one point, his lower half was separated from his torso as though by some large predator and [DATA EXPUNGED]. The security staff in the containment chamber with him pantomimed crying and sharing shots with each other before committing suicide in an approximated unison. The research assistant present was promoted to head of research on SCP-5184 shortly after, although he did not appear terribly grateful for this.
