DaLucaray

Draft 2

—-

Doctor Elizabeth Syna knocked on the office door before her. She looked at the placard on the door, then at the directions typed lowercase in her phone. This was it, the office of the Director of Site 19. She had expected it to look a lot more important than this. It was a plain door painted off white in a long, windowless hallways that was painted a slightly different shade of off-white. Or maybe it was just old and yellowed. She heard someone shuffling papers behind the door and knocked.

“Excuse me, Mister Director, can I have a moment of your time? I, uh, I have a few questions for you.” The shuffling stopped. Elizabeth heard a sigh on the other end

“Who is it?”

“Junior Researcher Elizabeth Syna, Clearance level 2.” Another sigh. The shuffling started again.

“Go bother someone less important.”

“I did, and they told me to go to you!” Nothing. “It’s about 682.” There was a crash behind the door and the Director of Site 19 swore very loudly.

“That fucking lizard… look, I don’t know who told you it was a good idea to bother me about it, but I don’t have time to hear every new researcher’s great idea for killing the unkillable monster. Trust me, it’s probably been done before, and if it hasn’t then it won’t work. At your clearance there’s nothing you know that’ll do anything. The higher ups are trying to find a way to kill it, don’t worry.”

“That’s just the thing, Mister Director. Why are we trying to kill it?” The shuffling stopped again. There was a pause. After a moment, the door opened.

The room was a mess. It was cramped, painted the same off-white as the door, with a pale blue light on the ceiling that made Elizabeth’s eyes water a bit. On either side of the room was rows of filing cabinets, most of them with an open drawer or two, and all of them rusted and beaten. The floor- a carpet that reminded Elizabeth of her grandmother’s home in upstate New York- had manilla folders scattered here and there. The table in the middle was just as messy- to one side sat a tower of binders, folders, and looseleaf paper that was cartoonishly high, and to the other a computer monitor that was apparently from the mid 90s. Elizabeth wondered why it was all so low tech, but decided now was not the time to ask.

“What do you mean, ‘why are we trying to kill it’?” the Director asked.

“I mean, why are we trying to kill it?” Doctor Syna grabbed the wooden chair facing the desk and sat down. “I’ve been working here for a few months now. I was told in training, I was told by my Seniors, we don’t destroy, we contain. But 682… look, I brought the file with me.” She opened up the binder she had with her and flipped to the second page. “Here. SCP-682's containment procedures. Very first line. ‘Special Containment Procedures: SCP-682 must be destroyed as soon as possible.’”

“Look, Doctor Squama.”

“Syna.”

“Doctor Syna. The Foundation is… well, its old, and it’s not as uniform as we’d really like you to think. There was a time, a while ago, when a few of the researchers thought it would be a good idea to get rid of anomalies instead of just contain them. Some of the researches at Site 19, actually, were among the biggest proponents. But that sort of thing ended way before your time.”

“But… you said the higher-ups were still trying to kill it.” The Director looked at her and blinked.

“Well, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because its dangerous! You read the rest of the file, didn’t you? It’s incredibly smart, its incredibly strong, and it hates all life!”

“Well yeah, but we have it contained.”

“The containment is impermanent and tenuous. It could break out at any moment.”

“Every Keter could break out at any moment, that’s the definition of Keter!”

“It could cause untold destruction!”

“And? So can countless others! We aren’t trying to destroy those!”

The Director did not respond. Elizabeth turned back to her binder and started flipping through it.

"SCP-312, a large jellyfish that eats people. 'preys upon large mammals and shows a strong preference for humans.' SCP-130, a book that rewrites history. 'The resurgence of a hostile Daevite civilization would constitute a grave and even possibly retroactive threat to the Foundation and modern civilization as we know it.' [More SCPs to be inserted here]. All deadly threats to human life, all kept alive or intact in our facilities. But Six Eight Two must be destroyed. Why?" Elizabeth caught herself yelling at the Director of Site 19. She clasped a hand over her mouth and sat down.

The Director sighed and sat down himself. He looked at his hands and tapped the tips of his fingers together.

“Its orders from O5.”

“And you just agree with them.”

“Well, yes.”

“Why?” Elizabeth asked. She didn’t get a response. “Why do you people put aside everything the Foundation stands for to try and kill this dumb lizard?”

The director leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, his hands tented on his chest. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

“Doctor, have you ever actually met SCP-682?”

“No, of course not. That’s D-class work.”

The Director chuckled. “I have. It breached containment a while back, when I was just a researcher. Tore through the lab. Stared straight at me. We locked eyes, that damn thing and I, just for a moment. Then it took a missile to the face and charged in the other direction.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. After a pause, the man continued.

“I had wondered myself why we were so set on destroying that thing. But after that I knew. I knew it had be scoured from existence.” His gaze stayed on the ceiling. Elizabeth had no idea how he could stand the light.

“You want revenge?”

“God, no. If we destroyed every skip that spited us half our files would have ‘decommissioned’ stamped on top.”

“Then what was it?”

“When I finally laid eyes on it I felt something. Something awful. Six Eighty Two, it was just…”

“It was what?”

"It was…"

"It was wrong?" She asked. The Director laughed.

"Wrong? No, no, not just 'wrong'. Nine cheerleaders screaming without faces is wrong. The bloated body of a cannibal inbred ten times over is wrong. That thing was… it was…” The Director seemed to struggle, trying to find the right word.

"It was what, Director? What was it?"

“It was…disgusting.”

—-

Draft 1 (For reference and posterity)


Doctor Elizabeth Syna knocked on the office door before her. She looked at the placard on the door, then at the directions typed lowercase in her phone. This was it, the office of the Director of Site 19. She had expected it to look a lot more important than this. It was a plain door painted off white in a long, windowless hallways that was painted a slightly different shade of off-white. Or maybe it was just old and yellowed. She heard someone shuffling papers behind the door and knocked.

“Excuse me, Mister Director, can I have a moment of your time? I, uh, I have a few questions for you.” The shuffling stopped. Elizabeth heard a sigh on the other end

“Who is it?”

“Junior Researcher Elizabeth Syna, Clearance level 2.” Another sigh. The shuffling started again.

“Go bother someone less important.”

“I did, and they told me to go to you!” Nothing. “It’s about 682.” There was a crash behind the door and the Director of Site 19 swore very loudly.

“That fucking lizard… look, I don’t know who told you it was a good idea to bother me about it, but I don’t have time to hear every new researcher’s great idea for killing the unkillable monster. Trust me, it’s probably been done before, and if it hasn’t then it won’t work. At your clearance there’s nothing you know that’ll do anything. The higher ups are trying to find a way to kill it, don’t worry.”

“That’s just the thing, Mister Director. Why are we trying to kill it?” The shuffling stopped again. There was a pause. After a moment, the door opened.

The room was a mess. It was cramped, painted the same off-white as the door, with a pale blue light on the ceiling that made Elizabeth’s eyes water a bit. On either side of the room was rows of filing cabinets, most of them with an open drawer or two, and all of them rusted and beaten. The floor- a carpet that reminded Elizabeth of her grandmother’s home in upstate New York- had manilla folders scattered here and there. The table in the middle was just as messy- to one side sat a tower of binders, folders, and looseleaf paper that was cartoonishly high, and to the other a computer monitor that was apparently from the mid 90s. Elizabeth wondered why it was all so low tech, but decided now was not the time to ask.

“What do you mean, ‘why are we trying to kill it’?” the Director asked.

“I mean, why are we trying to kill it?” Doctor Syna grabbed the wooden chair facing the desk and sat down. “I’ve been working here for a few months now. I was told in training, I was told by my Seniors, we don’t destroy, we contain. But 682… look, I brought the file with me.” She pulled out her phone. “Here. Very first line. ‘Special Containment Procedures: SCP-682 must be destroyed as soon as possible.’”

“Look, Doctor Squama.”

“Syna.”

“Doctor Syna. The Foundation is… well, its old, and it’s not as uniform as we’d really like you to think. There was a time, a while ago, when a few of the researchers thought it would be a good idea to get rid of anomalies instead of just contain them. Some of the researches at Site 19, actually, were among the biggest proponents. But that sort of thing ended way before your time.”

“But… you said the higher-ups were still trying to kill it.” The Director looked at her and blinked.

“Well, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because its dangerous! You read the rest of the page, didn’t you? It’s incredibly smart, its incredibly strong, and it hates all life!”

“Well yeah, but we have it contained.”

“The containment is impermanent and tenuous. It could break out at any moment.”

“Every Keter could break out at any moment, that’s the definition of Keter!”

“It could cause untold destruction!”

“So can, like, two hundred other SCPs! We aren’t trying to destroy those!” Elizabeth caught herself yelling at the Director of Site 19. She clasped a hand over her mouth and sat down. He sighed and sat down himself.

“Its orders from O5.”

“And you just agree with them.”

“Well, yes.”

“Why?” Elizabeth asked. She didn’t get a response. “Why do you people put aside everything the Foundation stands for to try and kill this dumb lizard?” The director leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, his hands tented on his chest. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

“Doctor, have you ever actually met SCP-682?”

“No, of course not. That’s D-class work.”

“I have. It breached containment a while back, when I was just a researcher. Tore through the lab. Stared straight at me. We locked eyes, that damn thing and I, just for a moment. Then it took a missile to the face and charged in the other direction.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. After a pause, the man continued.

“I had wondered myself why we were so set on destroying that thing. But after that I knew. I knew it had be scoured from existence.” His gaze stayed on the ceiling. Elizabeth had no idea how he could stand the light.

“You want revenge?”

“God, no. If we destroyed every skip that spited us half our files would have ‘decommissioned’ stamped on top.”

“Then what was it?”

“When I finally laid eyes on it I felt something. Something awful. Six Eighty Two, it was just…”

“It was what?”

“It was…” The Director seemed to struggle, trying to find the right word. “it was…disgusting.”