Humanmale - SCP Sandbox III

Humanmale

SCP-XXXX waveform displaying characteristic frequency fuzzing.

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: MTF Psi-23 ("Long Time Listeners") have been tasked with monitoring radio broadcasts for the characteristic traits and content of SCP-XXXX. This is to be accomplished using the recommissioned Elsetree International Very Long Baseline Radio Interferometry Array¹. Care must be taken to distinguish SCP-XXXX from certain non-anomalous radio programmes with similar formats. When SCP-XXXX instances are verified the array is to be used to broadcast a jamming signal in the affected area.

Description: SCP-XXXX refers to a series of anomalous radio transmissions by a broadcaster which refers to itself as Quondam Radio. These transmissions have been reported in widely separated areas worldwide with the earliest credible reports dating back to 1953. SCP-XXXX occurrences affect an area of no more than 5 km radius. They last for periods not measured to last more than nine minutes and twenty-three seconds and only occur in the presence of individuals in a heightened emotional state (hereafter designated the subject).

The primary anomalous trait of SCP-XXXX transmissions is their degree of emotional resonance with the subject, as self-reported by subjects. For an illustrative example of this emotional resonance please see the account of initial discovery in Interview XXXX-DL-2.

Display Interview XXXX-DL-2

Close Interview XXXX-DL-2

Interview XXXX-DL-2

Standard Initial Anomaly Report - QB-02A
Interviewer: HF - Hugh Farlow, Level-2 Research Supervisor (Anomalous Biochemistry), Site-23.
Interviewee: AG - Amanda Groves, Level-1 Researcher (Anomalous Enzymology), Site-23.

HF: It's four-fifteen on the second of December 1985. I'm Doctor Hugh Farlow, interviewing Doctor Amanda Groves after incident 011285-ROA-5. Doctor Groves is voluntarily reporting an anomalous incident which she observed yesterday morning.
Doctor Groves, would you please describe, in your own words what happened?

AG: So I was driving and—

HF: Can you tell me where you were at the time of the incident?

AG: Um, I was just out driving to, to clear my head. I was out near the ███████ reservoir. Just driving. I'd had an, an argument with my partner and I was on my way back to, uh, to talk to them and—

HF: And what time did the incident occur?

AG: It must have been around 1am, I think. Maybe a little later.

HF: Excellent. Describe what happened.

AG: Well, I was pretty upset, and I driving around the water with the radio on but not really listening to it. Then it changed. The radio show. A new DJ came on.

HF: Did the DJ identify themselves?

AG: No. No, I don't think so. He said the name of the station; Quondam Radio and then he started speaking. Like directly to me. That's how I knew it was an anomaly, because he was talking directly to me.

HF: How did he sound? Did you notice anything about his voice?

AG: Um, he had an accent, Spanish, I think. And he sounded tired. Dead tired.

HF: And what did he say?

AG: It was something like, um: "I want to send a message to a very special person; Amanda Groves, out in █████████." He said that. He said my whole name. And the way he talked, it was like, like he knew me. [AG stops speaking and stares at the wall.]

HF: Please focus, Doctor Groves. What did the entity say?

AG: Sorry, Doctor. I think he said: "Amanda, I know you've been going through a tough time. I know it seems like everything is spiralling out of control, like you can't make things right. I want you to know that you can. You can choose, you get to choose what happens next. This is Lucas by Suzy something and this one is for you, Amanda." Something like that. Then a song started playing. It wasn't anything I'd heard before but it was, uh, it was what I needed to hear. It made me feel… it made me think about things.

HF: Well, I'm sure that's nice. Did anything significant occur after that?

AG: N-no. Nothing. I just sat and listened to the song. Cried a little bit. The radio was back to normal by the time I thought about it again. That was the whole incident, Doctor.

HF: Thank you, Doctor Groves. I imagine that this was difficult for you, being a- ahem, but you've been most informative.

AG: So you're going to contain this thing now, right? That's how it works?

HF: Well, it's a little more complicated than that, Doctor Groves. First there will be an investigative period while we gather information and so on. I can forward you the relevant protocol if you're really interested.

AF: Uh, yes? Thank you Doctor, that's very, um, thoughtful.

HF: Well, I think we've got everything useful we're going to. End interview.

Interview ends.

Following this interview the presenter of Quondam Radio was initially designated as Person of Interest #11357.
On 30/04/87 the song heard by Researcher Groves was identified as Luka by Suzanne Vega, recorded in September and October of 1986. As a result of the anomalous temporal implications and later broadcasts with different presenters Quondam Radio was redesignated as GoI #701.

Close Interview XXXX-DL-2

The secondary anomalous trait of SCP-XXXX transmissions is the inability of Foundation assets to locate the source of the broadcasts. Transmissions have been traced back to a point of origin but no equipment has been located, even in cases when the transmissions were still ongoing. See field log XXXX-21 for further details.

Display Field Log XXXX-21

Close Field Log XXXX-21

Field Log XXXX-21
This is an account of a recovery operation to locate and contain SCP-XXXX.
MTF Psi-23-4 Recovery Element, 19/07/1987 ~0240S

Log begins at transmission start +00:05:47

SB4 (Sea Breeze-4, Alice Read, Team Leader MTF Psi-23-4): -signal is still strong. Now turning into corn field at local grid zero-six dash four-niner. We're close, Hot House, but no contact yet, over. [Don't Stop Believin' by Journey can be heard in the background.]
HH (Hot House, MTF Psi-23 Field Command): We hear you, Sea Breeze Four. We're showing nearly six- make that six minutes since the transmission began. Time's running low. Go in careful but go in fast, over.
SB4: Careful and fast, that's how we roll, Hot House. We're disembarking here, over. Okay boys and girls, everybody out, out, out! Cornish! Get up, get moving and get out right fucking now!
[Loud footfalls]
The word of the day is contain! We are not here to shoot the place up, we are here to make new friends so put away your bang bang guns and get out the make-nice guns.
[Metallic clattering]
SB4: Section one! Form up on me. Dunne! [unclear confirmation] Take section two around the other side and push in on the green light. [unclear confirmation]
[Short pause]
SB4: Hot House, this is Sea Breeze Four, we're going in, over.
HH: Roger that, Sea Breeze Four. Good luck, over.
SB4: Okay Dunne, green light green light green light! Everybody move!
[Sounds of loud breathing]
SB4: [Hoarsely] Shit! There's nothing here, Hot House. Just corn and space and a whole lot of sky.
[Whispered conversation]
SB4: Hot House, I think this guy is fucking with us, over.
HH: What's that, Sea Breeze Four, over?
SB4: Hot House, we are standing in the middle of a mother-fucking crop circle.
[muttered conversation]
SB4: Okay Hot House, we've got something. Jaziri just picked up something on the Ay-Ess-Em². [Muttered] Pretty impressive for two watches strapped to opposite ends of a stick. [Later analysis revealed that a small, type IV temporal anomaly was active at the time]
[At this point Don't Stop Believin' ends and the Quondam DJ returns]
HH: Sea Breeze Four, I think you're going to want to hear this. Patching the transmission through now:
SCP-XXXX Transmission: —iends in the big boots and balaclava brigade, you guys do a valuable job and I really want you to know you're wrong about us. This one goes out to you.
[Song begins: Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by Nina Simone]
SB4: Yeah. He's definitely fucking with us.

Log ends

Close Field Log XXXX-21

Addendum XXXX-H-1761
Added 09/20/1987

Display Memo XXXX-090187

NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION

The document you are attempting to access has been sanitised. The original contains cognitohazardous material and is not suitable for viewing outside of RAISA-supervised contexts. In order to preserve the comprehensibility of the content, this sanitised version has only keystone elements of the cognitohazardous material removed.

— Alyt Vervloet, Archival Superintendent, RAISA

SCiPNET LOGIN

name
affiliation

Logout

Administrator access recognised.

[1st page]

NON-FICTION!

People died so I could write this. I'd appreciate it if you could spare a few minutes to read it.

[2nd page]

Let's start with MIRANDA. There are three things you need to know about MIRANDA: she was tall, she was dazzlingly charismatic and she was more stubborn than gravity. Nobody else could even imagine this mission, but she could. They said it was impossible, and she showed them it might not be. They said it could never be made to work, and she put together a plan that showed them how to do it. They said it would be dangerous, and she just laughed.

MIRANDA led this mission before there was a mission. When it came time to assign a team leader, she chose herself. No one had put more into the project, no one knew more about the project. Still, there were those that spoke out against her.
"She's too inexperienced in the field," they said.
"She's too valuable to the core unit," they said.
"She's too domineering to lead a small team," they said. The rumour mill told a different story. It said that if she'd been straighter, more male and less black that she'd have got the job with no resistance. Of course no one was saying that, but they were not saying it very pointedly.
What do you think she said to that? Not a damn thing. She didn't need to tell them they were wrong. She showed them. They stopped saying that.

Three months after she got the project signed off everything was ready, faster than any reasonable timeline. There were already plans drawn up for a manned craft and soon we had a shiny new ship in the hanger. We had a fully reconditioned latent-space portal because the second-generation portals had always been designed with manned missions in mind. We had a team: every one of us a volunteer, every one hand-picked from across the Foundation. We weren't the best in our fields but MIRANDA saw in us the parts of something more. She made us into that something.

[3rd page]

We sat in that cockpit, staring into that portal, wondering if humans could survive on the other side. All the science gave it a very promising maybe. Electromagnetic waves don't propagate so well out there so once we went through we'd be on our own. MIRANDA brought the engines up and eased us through, careful, but confident.

Things went fine for a while. It was nothing but smooth sailing through empty skies and a deluge of data flowing from the intruments to the databanks. We saw more kinds of nothing than there are words for in any language I know.
Then we saw the nullity transition layer closing in around us. If this place had weather, then this would be the storm — angry nothing whipping around in complex curves and hard, pointed angles. MIRANDA dialled up the stabilisation field. It wrapped around us in a gently not-humming aura of thing-ness that kept reality in and everything else out. She pointed our bow straight into the layer and told us to strap in.

We should have been fine, but we weren't. The layer started seeping through the outer fields in an every-colour fog and the hull began rattling like a castanet. The instruments stopped responding and stayed solidly in the green, ignoring the obvious danger. MIRANDA took just a single moment to think about it before turning the ship around and leaving her dream behind. That was one of the things that made her a good leader: she always put people before dreams. She yelled at us to get back into the centre of the ship, nearer to the field generator while she stayed up front to get us lined up on the portal. We left, out of the bridge, back past the crew quarters and into the mess room. We only stopped once we were right in the centre of the ship, above the field generator where its effects were strongest.

MIRANDA's updates from the cockpit lasted for a little while, crackling to us over the internal comms. Then they stopped making sense. Then they stopped.

That was MIRANDA. She was always pushing forwards, always at the front. That meant she was often alone, especially at the end.

[4th page]

Next was DIMO. DIMO was as big as two men and careful. He built the ship's engines by hand. Then he broke them down and built them a second time because he wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He never did things the easy way if it was the wrong way.

DIMO was careful when he talked too. You can tell that he'd thought about every word before he said it. Some people take fifty words to make their point. DIMO didn't. He'd pause and think and then he'd say three words, but they'd be the right words.

The fog took a while to get back to the mess room, but inch by inch it did. DIMO stood in the doorway watching it approach with an unreadable expression and said, "Not enough time." He dialled up the field generator and then paused for a second, thinking. Then he nodded to himself and turned the dial a click farther.

Fifteen minutes later the lights started flickering and the mist started creeping closer again. DIMO's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He stared down at the floor for a moment and then sighed, shoulders dropping by just the tiniest fraction. "I'll repair this," he said. He left.

Another fifteen minutes later the lights stabilised and the mist retreated from the edges of the room. We didn't hear from DIMO again. Just whispering over the internal comms. Nothing clear, just the shapes of words. "…my family…" I think. Then nothing.

That was DIMO. When he was wrong, he did it the right way, even if it was the hard way.

[5th page]

The third member of the team was ETISHA. She was the smart one, the smartest person I ever met. Some people are so intelligent that they seem to be talking another language, but ETISHA wasn't like that. She made you feel smarter just by being around her. I never did work out how.

ETISHA figured out what had happened to the others, or at least she said she had and I wasn't nearly clever enough to argue. "I think they've been subsumed into the local immateria." She saw my uncertain look and tried again. "They're part of all this nothing. They don't exist any more. Maybe they never did now. Or maybe the field is containing what's left of them?" She stopped speaking and I could see the idea turning in her like a key in a clock.
"So can we get them back?" I asked. ETISHA gave ME one of those looks that said she wasn't going to answer soon and when she did I wouldn't understand.

We got a few hours closer to home before the atmosphere system gave out. The obvious solution was the suits. Problem was, the suits weren't in the mess room with us and everything outside the room was filled with all kinds of nothing. ETISHA got creative. She built an oxygen generator out of the guts of a lighting panel, a water jug and some indigestion tablets and converted the toilet into a makeshift breathing tent. It smelled bad enough to bring tears to our eyes but it was better than suffocating, for a while.

[6th page]

It wasn't enough. Once it was clear that we wouldn't be able to last all the way back on toilet air, we decided we'd have to get the suits. That meant walking into the miasma that had done whatever it had done to MIRANDA and DIMO. We decided to play rock-paper-scissors for it. I don't know if she threw it on purpose. I don't know if I tried to win, but I did, and she left.

What came back out of the fog wasn't really ETISHA any more. It had her shape, her face, her voice, but it wasn't her. She was like a painting of herself — like if she turned too quickly she'd disappear behind her edges. She carried a bundle of fabric under one arm that seemed more substantial than she did.
"I brought. This. For you." She dropped the bundle at my feet. It was just a suit.

There was a smile on her face. It was warm but hollow. I could see the bulkhead through the back of it.

"And. This." She put a notepad on the table. "You only. Need. To plant a. Seed." She winked at ME and then she just… wasn't, anymore.

That was ETISHA. She was always helping you, but you could never quite figure out how she'd done it.

[7th page]

Lastly, there was ME. I'm ca
I'm out of time. Please get us home.

[Original discovery classification]
Spontaneous, handwritten fiction found on the mess room table of unmanned Latent-Space Exploratory Vessel Audre on its return to real-space. Other paraphernalia associated with the fictional crew was also found, such as clothing, food items and toothbrushes.

The cognitohazardous property of the original document has been identified as a reality incursion attempt by unknown entities designated MIRANDA, DIMO, ETISHA and ME. Reading the document and considering the entities therein has been shown to increase their actualisation in our reality. Even the sanitised version may have an effect in limited circumstances. Exercise caution with this material.

Current actualisation:

MIRANDA - 56%
DIMO - 41%
ETISHA - 47%
ME - 3%

Access unsanitised document? (Y/N):█

SCP-XXXX, memetic content auto-redacted.

Item #: SCP-XXXX

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is to be held in a modified Large Humanoid Containment Chamber at Site-312. Only Site-312 staff or other personnel not subject to SCP-XXXX's anomalous effect are to be allowed to interact with the entity.

SCP-XXXX's chamber is to be provided with lighting to reduce the required frequency of chamber transfer procedures.

An on-staff xenotherapist is to provide daily therapy sessions to SCP-XXXX.

SCP-XXXX is to be moved to an alternate chamber every four weeks to allow its current chamber to be repaired. Following incident XXXX-M, security during chamber transfer procedures has been upgraded to Ψ-level.

Description: SCP-XXXX is a 238 cm tall, muscular humanoid with three curved, conic ossicones equally spaced around its head at brow height. It has rough, heavily-scarred skin, is hairless and has claws to each of its digits. The entity's right eye is missing and the socket scarred over.

SCP-XXXX can be easily recognised from a distance by its loud, rasping breathing and its distinctive scent, which is described as similar to lemon and rotting seafood.

The entity frequently engages in destructive and self-destructive behaviours. This causes minor but cumulative damage to its containment chamber. If the entity is not provided with lighting then the frequency of self-destructive behaviours is increased. These behaviours include but are not limited to: striking the walls and/or floor with its fists, feet, shoulders or head; biting its arms, legs or the walls and refusing food and/or water.

SCP-XXXX is capable of speaking modern English but more often speaks in an unknown language which shows lexical similarities to Archaic Irish. It frequently holds extended conversations with itself that involve large amounts of repetition.

The anomalous trait of SCP-XXXX is a memetic effect which affects baseline humans that make eye contact with the entity. Affected humans believe themselves to be, and to always have been loyal subjects of SCP-XXXX's kingdom. This frequently involves confabulating memories to explain their current circumstances. They will follow SCP-XXXX's orders to the best of their ability and will act in what they perceive to be the entity's best interests in the absence of orders.

Humans that view visual representations of SCP-XXXX such as photographs, video footage and in some cases, artistic depictions are affected by a lesser version of this effect. This usually manifests as a desire to assist the entity which varies in intensity.

Immediate (<24 hours) administration of class B amnestics has been shown to counter the anomalous effect with minimal side effects. More prolonged exposures require stronger amnestics with commensurately greater side effects.

Initial Containment: SCP-XXXX was contained in Quinhagak, Alaska, USA where it had used its anomalous trait on >90% of the local population and proclaimed The New Formor Dominion.

Crew on a supply boat attempted to put in to harbour and were fired upon by locals armed with hunting rifles. One of the crew filmed the incident and provided the footage to the press. SCP-XXXX was not included in the footage but hand-painted banners were shown such as "Hail to the King!" and "Sovereign Territory of the New Formor Dominion".

Law enforcement was called in from nearby communities and then quickly assimilated by means of SCP-XXXX's anomalous effect. When they were reported as manning barricades at the outskirts of Quinhagak the matter was picked up by the Foundation's USNW field office. An immediate response was organised.

MTF Eta-10 ("See No Evil") assembled a medium-scale expeditionary force and deployed to the operational area within 24 hours. Due to the uncertainty regarding the nature of the anomalous effect in play a cordon was established and a measured approach was decided on.

A flight of Armed Unmanned Aerial Vehicles were launched at dawn and dropped CS gas dispersal devices on the town of Quinhagak. This softened the town's defences and allowed a reconnaissance and recovery element of four MTF Pi-20 ("The Oathkeepers") Operators to be inserted from the shore.

Locating the source of the anomalous effect proved much easier than expected. SCP-XXXX had set itself up in the town's largest structure, had ordered pictures of itself posted throughout the town and left instructions to direct outsiders to it. The Operators were able to gain access to the entity, subdue it and then extract it by sea while facing only relatively light resistance. SCP-XXXX was then transported for initial evaluation.

Hostilities were ended by pushing a video to local mobile devices showing SCP-XXXX captured followed by a message informing the viewer that the entity's safety was dependant on cooperation with local forces. MTF Eta-10 then set up a Field Amnesticisation Clinic and began processing the affected population. After an initial calibration period a provisional treatment protocol was established and the population treated and released to home arrest until the effectiveness could be determined.

Total losses:

One Armed Unmanned Aerial Vehicle - shot down.
One MTF Pi-20 Operator - temporarily killed and rendered comatose.
Two MTF Eta-10 Drone Pilots - exposed to memetic effect and amnesticised.
Six MTF Eta-10 Field Operatives - injured, non-fatally.
12 MTF Eta-10 Field Operatives - exposed to memetic effect and amnesticised.
Four civilians - injured, fatally.
26 civilians - injured, non-fatally.
16 civilians - severe reaction to amnesticisation.
Two structures - heavily damaged or destroyed.

Total exposure time (estimated): Three days since SCP-XXXX arrived at Quinhagak.

SCP-XXXX Therapy Session 28
Therapist - Dr. M. Solomon, Site-312 Xenotherapist (DrMS)
Subject - SCP-XXXX (XXXX)

DrMS: Good morning, SCP-XXXX. How are you today?

XXXX: Is it morning, Doctor? I've lost track of time.

DrMS: Yes it is. I wanted to talk to you about last ni—

XXXX: It's hard to keep track of time down here. I don't like it.

DrMS: I'm afraid it really is necessary. Now, I wanted to talk to you about last night. Do you remember what happened?

XXXX: Nothing happened. I just had difficulty sleeping.

DrMS: That's not all. You were pounding on the walls. You hurt yourself again. Why did you do that?

XXXX: I'm sorry, Doctor. I just, I just don't like it here. It's so dim and echoey. It's just like— Nothing.

DrMS: Go on. You can tell me.

XXXX: No! I don't want to. I want to be seen for what I am; a king. I want you to look at me an—

DrMS: SCP-XXXX, we've talked abou—

XXXX: No, please! If you just look at me you'll see that I'm right. I'm always right.

DrMS: We've talked about this.

XXXX: [Begins crying] But I'm a king. I am. Please just look at me and say I'm a king.

DrMS: You know I can't do that, SCP-XXXX. You know why.

XXXX: [sobbing] Please! Pleasepleaseplease let me be your king. I want to. Just for a little while. I'll be a good king, I promise! Pleas—

DrMS: I'm sorry, SCP-XXXX but that's just not possible [sighs]. I don't think we're going to get anything more done today. I'm going to have to come back tomorrow. Goodbye, SCP-XXXX. End session.

Incident XXXX-M

Commendation for Bravery Issued to Containment Specialist After One-Eyed King Incident.

Three of our own were injured in a violent containment breach attempt earlier this week by one of our newer guests; the One-Eyed King. The eight-foot critter tried to make a run for it during a routine CTP and took down two of the assigned Conts before being shown the fun end of a sickstick³ by Dembe Mbire. We spoke to Dembe and asked her to tell us about it in her own words:

"Me, Ellis and Mazur were walking XXXX from one LHCC to another. Fully shackled up, obviously, Mazur holding the tether. It was shuffling along, muttering to itself in its own language, gentle as a lamb. One second it's not bothering anyone, the next it starts screaming and thrashing.

"It pulls forwards and yanks Mazur off her feet. Mazur yelps, mostly in surprise I think. It slams headfirst into the wall then staggers back and stumbles over Mazur. You could hear her ribs crackle like a bonfire, even over the thing's shouting. Me and Ellis go towards it and it catches me across the tits with one of those flailing arms like telephone poles and puts me on my arse. My head bounces off the wall and I stop caring about silly things like not getting stomped, just for a little while.

"When I start paying attention to what's going on again I can hear it with Ellis, a few feet away. It's yelling at him, pleading really 'I am your king!' Thud. 'Open your eyes and look at me.' Thud. 'Please!' Thud. It's smacking him against the wall each time. Ellis wasn't saying anything. I think he must have already been unconscious by then. I start shouting at it. Don't even know what. It wasn't listening though so I pull myself all the way back to my feet which is farther than I remember and involves a new route. I wobble towards them still shouting away. Gibberish, probably but it worked. The thing dropped Ellis and started coming towards me.

"Jingle, stomp. Jingle, stomp. As it came closer I tried to think up something pithy to say. I still hadn't managed by the time its giant paws closed around my head. I get hoisted into the air by my skull, which hurts, in case you didn't know. It starts telling me that 'I don't want to hurt you. I love you. I just want you to look at me and worship me. Please! It'll be so easy!' While it's doing that its carrot-fingers are trying to force my eyes open. I don't remember pulling my sickstick but it's there in my hand. Seemed a shame to waste it so I toggle the safety and jam it into the beastie.

"It did NOT like that. Its thumb claws went into my eyes and I black out about then. Woke up in here [the medical centre] missing part of my ear, a chunk of nose and both eyes. Could have been worse, obviously."

Site Director Fallon awarded the commendation to Containment Specialist Mbire at her hospital bed and stated that: "CS Mbire's bravery is an inspiration to us all. I hope she makes a swift recovery so she can rejoin our team. We need people like her keeping us safe."

We here at the Custodian echo that. Get better, Mbire! You're our hero!

Excerpt from the Site-312 newsletter, transcribed from Braille.

NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION

— Alyt Vervloet, Archival Superintendent, RAISA

Administrator access recognised.

NON-FICTION!

People died so I could write this. I'd appreciate it if you could spare a few minutes to read it.

Let's start with MIRANDA. Three things you need to know about MIRANDA: she was tall, dazzlingly charismatic and more stubborn than gravity. If it was just one thing it'd be the stubbornness. She believed in the mission when no one else could even imagine it, and that's all it took. They said it was impossible and she showed them it might not be. They said it could never be made to work and she put together a plan that showed them how to do it, step by step from there to here. They said it would be dangerous and she laughed in their faces.

MIRANDA led this mission before there was a mission. When it came time to assign a team leader, she chose herself and there shouldn't have been anybody to say it was the wrong choice. But of course there were those that tried.
"She's too (female) inexperienced in the field," they said, eyes filled with concern.
"She's too (black) valuable to the core unit," they said, smiles dripping with sincerity.
"She's too (gay) domineering to lead a small team," they said, and they meant every word. Especially the ones they didn't say.
What do you think she said to that? You're damn straight she did. They stopped saying that.

Three months after she got the project signed off everything was ready, despite any reasonable timeline. There were already plans drawn up for a manned craft. Soon we had a shiny new ship in the hanger. We had a fully reconditioned latent-space portal because the second generation had always been designed with manned missions in mind. We had a team. A great team.

We sat in that cockpit, staring into that portal, wondering if humans could survive on the other side, despite all the science giving it a very promising maybe. Electromagnetic waves don't propagate so well out there so once we went through we'd be on our own. It was MIRANDA that brought the engines up and eased us through, careful, but sure.

Things went fine for a while, right up until they didn't. When we saw the nullity transition layer closing in around us, it was MIRANDA that dialled up the stabilisation field, pointed our bow straight into it and told us to strap in.

Then the layer started seeping through the outer fields like an every-colour fog and the hull began rattling like a castanet. The instruments stopped responding and stayed solidly in the green. It was MIRANDA who took just a single moment to think about it before turning the ship around and leaving her dream behind. She yelled at us to get back nearer to the field generator while she stayed up front to get us lined up on the portal.

MIRANDA's updates from the cockpit lasted for a while. Then they stopped making sense. Then they stopped.

That was MIRANDA. She led from the front and that meant she was always a little alone, right to the end.

Next was DIMO. DIMO was as big as two men and careful. He built the engines by hand. Then he built them a second time because he wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He never did things the easy way if it was the wrong way.

DIMO was careful when he talked too. You could tell that he'd thought about every word before he said it. Some people took fifty words to make their point. DIMO wouldn't say it any quicker. He'd pause and think and then he'd say three words, but they'd be the right words.

The fog took a while to get back to the mess room but inch by inch it did. DIMO stood in the doorway watching it approach with an unreadable expression and said, "Not enough time." He dialled up the field generator and then paused for a second, considering. Then he nodded to himself and turned the dial a click farther.

Fifteen minutes later the lights started flickering and the mist started creeping closer again. DIMO's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened. He stared down at the floor for a moment and then sighed, shoulders dropping by just the tiniest fraction. "I'll repair this." He left.

Another fifteen minutes later the lights stabilised and the mist retreated from the edges of the room. We didn't hear from DIMO again. Just whispering over the internal comms. Nothing clear, just the shapes of words. "…my family…" I think. Then nothing.

That was DIMO. When he was wrong; he did it the right way, even if it was the hard way.

After that was ETISHA. She was the smart one. The smartest person I ever met. Some people are so intelligent that they seem to be talking another language. ETISHA wasn't like that. She made you feel smarter just by being around her. I never did work out how.

ETISHA figured out what had happened to the others, or at least she said she had and I wasn't nearly clever enough to argue.
"I think they've been subsumed into the local immateria." She saw my uncertain look and tried again. "They're part of all this nothing now. They don't exist any more. Maybe they never did now. Or maybe the field is containing what's left of them… hmm."
"So can we get them back?" I asked. ETISHA gave ME one of those looks that said she wasn't going to answer soon and when she did I wouldn't understand.

We got a few hours closer to home before the atmosphere system gave out. The obvious answer was the suits. Problem was the suits weren't in the mess room with us and everything outside the room was filled with all kinds of nothing. ETISHA got creative. She built an oxygen generator out of the guts of a lighting panel, a water jug and some indigestion tablets and converted the toilet into a makeshift breathing tent. It smelled bad enough to bring tears to our eyes but it was better than suffocating, for a while. It wasn't enough.

Once it was clear that we wouldn't be able to last all the way back on toilet air we decided we'd have to get the suits. That meant walking into the miasma that had done whatever happened to MIRANDA and DIMO. We decided to play rock-paper-scissors for it. I don't know if she threw it on purpose. I don't know if I tried, but I won and she left.

What came back out of the fog wasn't really ETISHA any more. It had her shape, her face, her voice, but it wasn't her. She was like a painting of herself. It seemed like if she turned too quickly she'd disappear behind her edges. She carried a bundle of fabric under one arm that seemed more substantial than she did.
"I brought. This. For you." She dropped the bundle at my feet. It was just a suit.

She had a smile on her face. It was warm but hollow. I could see the bulkhead through the back of it.
"And. This." She put a notepad on the table. "You only. Need. To plant a. Seed." She winked at ME and then she just wasn't… anymore.

That was ETISHA. She was always helping you but you could never quite figure out what she'd done.

Lastly there was ME. I'm… I'm out of time. Please get us home.

[Original discovery classification]
Spontaneous fiction found on the mess room table of unmanned Latent-Space Exploratory Vessel Audre on its return to real-space. Other paraphernalia associated with the fictional crew was also found such as clothing, food items and toothbrushes.

Current actualisation:

MIRANDA - 56%
DIMO - 41%
ETISHA - 47%
ME - 3%

Access unsanitised document? (Y/N):█

[[/collapsible]]

Footnotes

SCP Sandbox III

Sandbox III: Revenge of the Sandbox

NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION

NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION