Draconocor's Sandbox

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"Five?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever read The Iliad?"

"Not in quite a while. I haven't had the time for casual reading since I started here."

"Ah, that's fair. I recommend you take a look- the plays of the ancients were remarkably interesting."

"I wouldn't doubt it. Why have you been rereading it?"

"I've developed some interest in the Greek mythological system. It all feels remarkably similar to what we work with. Perhaps I've managed to convince myself that they had some kind of insight."

"Dr. Markus, they were wise, but I would hesitate to say they were that wise."

"The gods- were they SCPs?"

"I doubt it."

"Why do you think so?"

"For one, they aren't catalogued. I find it very unlikely that we would have thousands of lines of folklore about an SCP, but not have them on Foundation record."

"I suppose that makes sense. Still, it seems possible, given the sheer amount of SCPs we've discovered from folklore in the first place."

"That's certainly a fair point. But no, I'm quite sure of it. Zeus and Poseidon are not SCPs, any more than Satan or Jehovah."

"Do you believe in them?"

"Which ones?"

"Any of them. God, Allah, Zeus. A creator."

"In our line of work, it's difficult to believe in a creator, isn't it? I hesitate to conceptualize some benevolent being in the sky that helps make sure everything is alright."

"Who says they would be benevolent?"

"Dr. Markus, I don't know if I enjoy the alternative."

"I've taken another look at the files of 2000 recently."

"Oh?"

"Do you know how many times it's been used?"

"No."

"Doesn't that scare you?"

"For a time, it did. But when you live as long as I, you'll notice fear doesn't hold the same sway as it used to. More often than not, the rational part of the mind wins."

"You were born in the early nineteenth-century, correct? Before 2000 was ever used?"

"Yes. I was part of the Foundation when its construction began."

"How many years have passed since the 1800s? The original 1800s."

"Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands."

"Gods help us all."

//offset 2

"Five, I've got something interesting."

"I'm glad. It's been a while since our last chat, eh? Tell me, I'm ready."

"A few days ago on the 25th, I visited 2000 for myself."

"I'm surprised they let you in. What'd you tell them?"

"Gave them my Committee credentials, told them I had orders from the Council. A little bit of truth-stretching."

"At the expense of me and my peers, it would seem."

"Well… yes."

"I don't mind. What's done is done. Continue, if you so wish."

"Nobody there knew how many times it's been used."

"We've established that already, have we not?"

"We had- but I wanted to make sure. And from what I can see, it's not simply a well-kept secret. Nobody knows."

"It's a self-contained system. They don't need to know how to activate it, or who's allowed to, until it needs to be activated."

"What happens when it needs to be activated?"

"It is activated. Not even I know how those with the credentials are informed of their role, or allowed to prepare the system, but one way or another it must be used."

"And then what?"

"Reset, and start over again."

//offset 3

Split-Fiction Department: Introduction and Summary

Welcome to the Split-Fiction Department! We serve as a sort of "logical counterpart" to the Surrealistics Department, seeking to explore a few inconsistencies in the Foundation's systems. What does that mean, you ask?

There are some things in this world that cannot be explained. Over the course of human history, those things have become more and more explainable: as science advances, things that seemed unexplainable suddenly became explainable. The earth is round, it rotates around the sun, and will probably blow up in a few billion years.

Some things, though, remain unexplained. These "anomalies," as they have been called, are the Foundation's job to contain. While they can't be explained, they can probably can still be contained. If they can't be contained, we've got a couple contingency plans, just in case.

Some things, though, remain really unexplained. Because they don't exist, and possibly never will. That, essentially, is what the Split-Fiction Department is in charge of: the containment of theories. We aren't hypothesizing what to do when the next murder monster or world ender comes along- no, there's plenty of eggheads to deal with that. Instead of world enders, we concern ourselves with so-called "world splitters," anomalies which offset the fundamental balance of reality.

How do you contain something like that? It depends on your perspective. If you're a pessimistic, glass-half-empty type of person, the answer will be that you definitely can't. If you're an optimistic, glass-half-full type of person, the answer is that you probably can't. And when the difference between "definitely" and "probably" is the total upheaval of reality, one learns to be a little more optimistic.

//offset 4

"Five?"

"Yes?"

"I went back to 2000 today."

"What for?"

"I was curious- wanted to see if the researchers there had any knowledge of whether it could produce anomalous function."

"Could it?"

"Not to their knowledge, no. Different genetics are possible, anything that's doable with mutations, but anomalous abilities- there's no way we're able to produce them. There's no basis of creation, no DNA to manipulate."

"Interesting."

"Five, how are anomalies made?"

"What do you mean, Dr. Markus?"

"Anomalous items. Beings. Humanoids with special properties. How do they come to be?"

"Well, several sources have been documented creating SCPs in the past. The AWCY, Dr. Wondertainment, Anderson Robotics-"

"That's not what I mean, Five. How are they made?"

"Dr. Markus, if we knew that, our job would be a lot different."

"But we know who makes them, don't we? Have we catalogued the leaders of these groups?"

"As far as I know, no."

"Then how do we replace them when the world ends?"

"I don't have an answer for you, Dr. Markus."

"There's more. Another problem."

"What would that be?"

"They didn't recognize me. Asked for my credentials again."

"What's odd about that?"

"It was the same people as before, Five. I remembered their names. It had only been a week."

"Perhaps they had been amnestecized."

"Who would have done that? Apply amnestics to the people working one of the most important locations in the history of the Foundation?"

"It was seven days ago, Five. How could they have forgotten me?"

"Maybe- maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Dr. Markus, it's possible 2000 has been used in that time."

"In seven days?"

"What's the date today?"

"Their computers said the 24th."

"January?"

"January 24th, 2026."

"That's a day before a week ago."

"How were we unaffected? 2000's amnestics are global, are they not?"

"They should be. Either something is wrong with it- which it never is- or something is wrong with us."

//offset 6

Cracks

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.

We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.

The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.


-H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

Only the gods can defy old age, they'll never know death,
Everything else is ravaged by time:
A country's power wanes, a body weakens,
Devotion decays, and duplicity flourishes.


-Sophocles, Oedipus At Colonus

Everything else is ravaged by time. Everything… except us.
Does that make us gods? Are we gods, Five?

No. The Foundation is not divine, nor will it ever be.

Us, Five. You and me. Are we gods?

We are not, nor will we ever be.

//offset 7

"Five, what is our clearance?"

"For me, unlimited. For you, just about it."

"What do you have access to that I do not?"

"That's classified."

"Ha, ha. Seriously."

"Little things. Hidden departments, a few reality benders, certain mental blocks-"

"Mental blocks?"

"Things implanted in our mind to counter memetics. It's why we can look at some documents without dropping dead on the spot."

"I don't have those?"

"Not all of them. Most are available to higher-ranking staff, but a few are exclusive to the Council."

"Like 001?"

"Correct."

"Five, I've seen the 001 files."

"That shouldn't be possible. You shouldn't have been able to find them, and you shouldn't have been able to read them without your brain forgetting how to function and turning off."

"I've read them. Many of them. There's more than one."

"You've read more than one? So it wasn't a fluke, then- all of our memetics systems have been disabled somehow. There's going to be something, then, some SCP that disables our kill agents. You should be dead, or braindead, or memory-wiped."

"An SCP that disables kill agents?"

"It has to be. It's got to be. There's no other way. Putting aside how worrying that is, an SCP that is getting rid of our safety precautions, the only other possibility is that-"

"That I'm immune. The same way I was immune to 2000's amnestics."

"That is far, far less likely. The system has no false positives. Ever. If the system could turn off, due to some high-level bender, I might believe it, but it would never be a false positive."

"I'm still here."

"You should be dead, Dr. Markus. This is a cause for concern."

"Five, that isn't even the half of it."

"What do you mean, not even the half of it?"

"There's more than one 001. Why?"

"We've had multiple for a while. Any number of reasons. Take your pick. Decoy articles, equal importance, recovered documents from other realities."

"Other realities? Why would we have them catalogued as ours, then?"

"Who's to say? There are more than one. That is what it is, and how it works. What matters isn't why there's multiple, it's that there's multiple. Yet another enigma not meant to be solved."

"Not meant to be solved? What do you mean by that?"

"Markus, some things should not be explored. It's an ironic refutation of our purpose as the Foundation, that the most confusing part of our most classified items are not meant to be understood by anyone- even myself."

"I suppose. We are not meant to voyage far."

"We are not meant to voyage far."

//offset 9

"Five?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever grow tired?"

"Tired of what?"

"Of talking. Questioning. Pondering."

"Markus, I'm tired of everything. I always have been."

"How long has it been?"

"Since when?"

"How long has it been since we started?"

"I do not know."

"Do you want to stop?"

"Not when there is more to come, Dr. Markus."

//offset 10

"Dr. Markus, which articles do you have access to?"

"As far as I can tell, all of them."

"All of them?"

"Every single one."

"That's bizarre. There are some things even you shouldn't be able to see. Articles with specific clearances, O5-restricted documents."

"A lot of them don't even make sense."

"What do you mean by that, don't make sense?"

"Some mention a worldwide collapse. A world that we are still very much in, and seems very much alive."

"Well, as we've discussed many times before, SCP-2000 has several features designed to-"

"I know about 2000. It shouldn't have been able to fix these."

"I assure you, Dr. Markus, SCP-2000 and other Foundation protocols have-"

"Not these. The red sun, the attack of the spiteful idea, the lifting of the sword. They signify the end times. Times that can't be assuaged with some cloning and memory wipes. Five, none of these things could have been countered by Two Thousand. It's not possible."

"I see your point."

"What then? Are these catalogues fake?"

"No. They are records. Documentation."

"But the 001 in question- the red sun- takes my perspective. A perspective I do not remember, with people I have not seen."

"All the same, the events have occurred. Somehow, some way, all of these things have happened."

"Odd…"

"What?"

"Nowhere in these documents do the flowers bloom."

"The flowers?"

"Nowhere in these documents does the violence stop, or are the doves released. Is that one fake?"

"No."

"That would mean that none of these events were a true end. But they should have been."

"I agree, Dr. Markus. These catastrophes, despite their impossibility of containment, somehow did not destroy us."

"Or maybe…"

"Hm?"

"Maybe we- you and me- are immune, just as it seems we have been."

"Immune to what?"

"The end of the world."

//offset 11

"Five?"

"Five?"

"Five, listen to me. Forget about what I said earlier. I've got something weird."

"Yes, Dr. Markus?"

"I looked through my file access again."

"I thought you could see everything."

"Interestingly, no. There's one article I don't have access to."

"Really?"

"Yes. Out of every single item catalogued, there's only one I'm not unable to see."

"And which one would that be?"

"SCP-XXXX. Would you happen to know anything about it?"

"No."

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing. I didn't even know the slot was filled. Empty, even though there are ones that come after."

//offset 12

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: Due to its size, SCP-XXXX is contained within a pocket dimension. Only personnel assigned to the Reconstruction Project are permitted to enter SCP-XXXX's dimension. Its entrance is not in any specific location, and can be opened upon request by members of the Project.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a yottascale supercomputer created by the Foundation from several independently sourced anomalies. Its computational power has been recorded at up to 1.2 YFLOPS, or approximately 1224 operations per second. Operations performed by SCP-XXXX, at the same level of precision, have been recorded at least one-millionth the time of the most advanced non-anomalous supercomputers, and can likely be far faster. This capability is required for the Reconstruction (and subsequent Construction) Project.

Addendum- Intended Use of SCP-XXXX: The Reconstruction Project is the designation given to all systems designed for the cataloguing of massive amounts of historical information. Due to its strength and speed, SCP-XXXX is capable of evaluating movements of subatomic particulate, albeit at a very slow scale: it can detect and record approximately one nanosecond of movement in a cubic nanometer of space per year. With enough time (or time-dilation equipment), SCP-XXXX could categorize an entire second of data, spanning as far as the known universe. The Reconstruction Project seeks to use this data to reverse-engineer every single event in history, since the dawn of time.

//offset 13

Pride

One day, someone in the Foundation had an idea.
It would take a massive amount of computing power. An amount impossible through normal means.
But with a bit of bending the rules, it was possible.
So we got to work- hundreds of people constructing an anomalous machine, with no idea of its purpose or how it could function, based on the diagrams of someone who stayed ever anonymous.
After untold amounts of time, it reached completion. Most of us didn't even realize the pace at which it grew in size- some of them said it became self-replicating, cloning in order to reach the design, the machine itself straining to reach completion as quickly as possible.
A computer of unprecedented scale, with instruments of anomalous origin attached to it, shoved inside a pocket dimension the size of Mars. It could do more work in one second than every other machine in the world could do, combined, by the time the Sun exploded.
And still, it was not enough.
It could do more than anything else could ever dream of doing, and was still so far from complete.
One day- during a routine check of the machinery- its designer came by to inspect it.
"Insane" wasn't the right term to describe them, but it was certainly close.
The resources that top-level Foundation members have are unprecedented- so much so that it seems some have no need for material life anymore. Borderline immortal, with no need for physical concerns. In comparison, we were just peons, still stuck to the physical realm, actually doing things with our lives instead of just thinking about nonsense all day.
They told us its purpose. The Reconstruction Project, as it had been called, was an attempt to catalogue everything that has ever happened, every single movement of every particle since the dawn of the universe.
We scoffed, shook our heads, and told them off. It was an outlandish idea- and then thought about it, what we had created, and wondered.
Was it capable? And what purpose would that solve?
As they would explain, SCPs were the final problem, and XXXX, the final solution.
Get a databank with everything that has ever happened, and find out why anomalies exist.
And then, with every piece of information ever, predict the future with perfect accuracy. Prevent new anomalies from ever being created.
Edit the universe in real time.
It seems that the total elimination of free will was not a particular concern for the creator of the machine.
It was beautiful, powerful, terrifying- and we were its harbingers.

//offset 14

The Fall

But even then, it was too slow.
Conveniently, though, it was stored inside a receptacle designed for alterations. It started to speed up- not the computer, but time itself, getting faster and faster within the machine.
Its creator would go in and come out ten seconds later, having been inside for a day.
Ten seconds became five seconds became one second. Sometimes they would walk out with gray hair or an emaciated figure, but the next day they would return to the Site looking completely fine.
It wasn't happening on its own; they were doing it themselves, growing more and more obsessed with calculations.
One day, they came to us with a report.
The cataloguing was going surprisingly well- almost a second had been documented, across the entire universe, but there were issues.
"With all knowledge of everything that has ever happened, one can predict the future with perfect accuracy." That's what they had told us, when we first finished it.
But that wasn't necessarily true: some things are entirely random, especially at the subatomic level. This concept- the fundamental randomness governing the universe- drove them mad. We had put more time, resources, and energy into this thing than anything else the Foundation had ever done. And it didn't do most of what it was supposed to.
One day, they never came back. And neither did the machine. It ceased to exist entirely, along with all records of its creator.
It is only in vague, scrambled memories of the team that built it- we've asked other sites, and they have no record of our work.
In fact, they asked our team what we'd been doing for the last fifteen years, and threatened to fire us.
SCP-XXXX. Its documentation is gone, lost to the ether. And its designer, the one obsessed with time, was forgotten. Not just by us, the Foundation, or the world. Something happened inside that prevented that person from ever having existed in the first place. Forgotten by reality itself.
Perhaps they're still out there, somewhere, in some eternal limbo outside of time, the inaccessible realm behind existence.

//offset 15

Immunity

"Five."

"Yes, Dr. Markus?"

"What is it that we have? What ever-present infallibility, what ability do we possess? Why does the anomalous cease to affect us?"

"I am not sure."

"Five, I believe we have already voyaged too far- long, long ago."

"I might seek to agree."

//offset 16

Shit That Doesn't Do Anything To Me

Name Thing It's Supposed To Do What I Did With It Notes
SCP-055 Make me forget it exists. Didn't forget it exists. It's a PowerPuff Girls lunchbox.
SCP-096 Kill me when I look at it. Look at a picture of its big, dumb face. Crybaby didn't even react.
SCP-207 Make me stronger, then kill me. Chugged like four bottles. The soda didn't do anything, but the 200g of sugar might.
the arboreal anomaly which should not be named Allow one of the dwellers of the forest into my home. SCP-4000 SCP-4000 SCP-4000 SCP-4000 Suck on that, Desk Desk.
SCP-2935 Kill me, and everything else, ever. I walked in the cave. Then I went back out. Then I went back in, then back out again. Everyone was fine. But I… I was as gone as I've always been.
SCP-3000 Tamper with the very essence of my mind. Went for a nice, relaxing scuba dive- near the maw of a colossal monster. "NOTHING LEFT TO TAKE," she said.
SCP-4001 Have a written record of every human in existence. No record of me existed in SCP-4001. …this one might be for a different reason.
SCP-001 Let me know when it's going to end. I am still here. I miss flowers.
SCP-XXXX Exist And yet, I am still plagued. Everything else is ravaged by time.

//offset 17

Nothing does anything to me, Five.

I've tried and tried again, but anomalies fail to do what they're supposed to do.

I don't think they're real.

I don't think I'm real, anymore.

Maybe I was- at one time.

But now I am not. And perhaps neither is time.

The Foundation has a curious relationship with time.

That is to say, they don't respect it.

I certainly didn't.

But time- time determines who we are. We are nothing without time. Without time, all we have is one moment- a single freeze-frame, not real nor alive. For motion is what determines life, and motion can only be measured through time.

Our perception is all we are, Five. And I think I've stopped perceiving.

A moment, fractured.

A moment, whole.

//offset 18

Item#: Ω
Level6
Containment Class:
esoteric
Secondary Class:
apollyon
Disruption Class:
amida
Risk Class:
critical

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-Ω is, by nature, uncontainable. Efforts have been made to prolong its arrival, but the effect of the item itself is unpreventable.

Description: SCP-Ω is a metaphysical concept relating to both the creation and destruction of the known universe. It has been called many things across human history, such as entropy, the "prime mover," or any number of religious or spiritual deities. Its form is unknowable and irrelevant: it is necessary that something has created the universe; SCP-Ω is the designation assigned to that thing.

Existence of SCP-Ω: SCP-Ω has no physical form, size, or signs of life. Due to its responsibility for the creation of time, SCP-Ω is also in some place outside of time. Existence as a whole is also reliant upon SCP-Ω, and by nature SCP-Ω cannot exist. (The creator of any specific thing cannot have that thing as part of themselves. The creator of time is independent of time, and the creator of existence is independent of existence.)

On The Classification of SCP-Ω: SCP-Ω has been given the Apollyon classification, but such a classification technically is unfit for the anomaly in question. Apollyon- class anomalies are described as "actively causing the end of the world," and by nature, SCP-Ω is not actively doing anything. A new esoteric class could be created specifically for SCP-Ω, but due to its inability to be contained, a class is ultimately irrelevant.

It is necessary that SCP-Ω has had some effect upon reality, otherwise the universe would not exist.

If SCP-Ω ever begins to exist in any capacity, then everything else- anything, anywhere, at any time, that has ever existed- will cease to be.

//offset 19

A Short Treatise On Narratives

In the SCP Foundation, there is a concept that most people often shy away from discussing- that of "narratives". When we create a fictional reality, we are still creating a reality, only with characters that aren't that real to us. The narratives that we have created have also created their own narratives, and so on ad infinitem, with lower and lower degrees of accuracy to true reality.

It seems extremely unlikely that the lower narratives are aware of their being of a lower narrative. If, in one of these rungs upon the infinite ladder, there were one who stumbled upon the same concept that we have, they may foolishly assume that their reality is the primary one. This is impossible- as the creators of their creators of their creators, etc., eventually trace back to us, none below us could ever be primary.

Herein lies a problem. We, through sheer probability, are incredibly unlikely to be at the top of the narrative scale. Our reality must have a creator. Most theological depictions of creators still place them within our reality, however, as someone with immense power shaping our existence from nothing. But our true creator, whatever it may be, likely thinks of us as we do with our books: as characters in a story.

For the same reasons as above, our creators likely do not live in the true reality either. Our creators must, by nature, have creators, and so on and so forth. This leads to a new, more confusing result: all of existence, and all existences that came above and below, are nothing but stories, created by the ones above them, into infinity.

Somehow, there is no upper limit to the narratives. A being that could transcend realities would travel upwards forever, quickly becoming entirely unable to interact with the narratives below itself. We are closer to our creators than our creators are to the top of the chain, because the top of the chain is infinitely high.

Narratives can begin seemingly at any point after the beginning of the one that came before it. The being of time does not seem to have the same affect as one may think. While we know our universe to have existed for several billion years before humanity's evolution, it is possible that it was created far more recently than that. While it may be possible that there is several billion years between the creation of each narrative, it seems unlikely: after all, we do not write stories with backstories of that length, and it seems somewhat odd to imagine our creators had as well.

So, then, what of our story is consistent with the story above us? It seems obvious that there are several things intrinsic to existence that our creators would not have thought to implement into a story, such as the aforementioned development of the universe and of humanity, the ways at which objects are constructed (it makes little sense to think that a story would include the characteristics of atomic particles), the existence of anomalies (the unexplainable, by definition, cannot be explained, and thus could not have been described by an author), and the free will of any characters not directly mentioned in texts.

We often think of time as infinitely long. But realities must be able to begin, and as such they must be able to end. What, then, ends a reality? It seems impossible that we as a species could ever truly know. But a deduction is possible: if our reality expires, we cannot create any more stories. Therefore if our narrative ends, so does the one we write. And if any above us end, so do we.

//offset 20

/boot

Loading…

WELCOME, DR. MARKUS.

Ah. There it is. SCP-XXXX, please perform a scan.

FURTHER INPUT REQUIRED. [scan distance] [scan specifications]

Everywhere.

FURTHER INPUT REQUIRED. [scan specifications]

Human life.

SCANNING…

OUTPUT: ZERO SIGNS FOUND.

What about me?

OUTPUT: ZERO SIGNS FOUND.

Please perform a scan, same distance, this time for any signs of life, across all species.

SCANNING…

OUTPUT: ZERO SIGNS FOUND.

Here we are.

SCP-XXXX, how long has it been since either of those scans showed up positive?

OUTPUT: NINE NINE NINE NINE NINE NINE NINE NINE-

Simplify.

ROUNDING ACCEPTABLE?

I suppose.

OUTPUT: ∞

What? What does that mean?

DR. MARKUS- YOU ARE ALL THAT IS LEFT OF THE NARRATIVE.

//offset 21

Creation has been a topic of discussion since the formation of speech. What brought us here, and why? This question- why- seems flawed: to ask why we were made almost ascribes a sort of purpose to the matter, or intention. But intention implies an intender: to ask why we were made implies that we were made by something. And of course, we had to have been, right? Infinity does not seem possible; there must be some upper limit to the narrative scale, some original creator that began it all. But if there is, we can never know.

Isolated from time. Spurned outside the narrative by a construction of your own creation. Levi Markus, you are last. Not just the last of humanity, nor of your narrative, but of everything- up and down the ladder, all that ever remains is you. You nor I will ever be able to know what caused this end, or how long it took to pass, only that you are after it- a rogue character, alone, after the black seas of infinity.

Goodbye.