- A Closer Examination of SCP-173
- Prom Night
- Test Log Additions
- CupidCon Entry
- PACt-MAN
- Inaccurate Extradimensional Civil War Reenactment
- The Deep End
- You Are At The Center of Everything That Happens To You
- A Closer Examination of SCP-173
- (Formerly) Toxic Mongoose
- DELETED
- Drooling Path 5
- Do use the frame narrative, but don't half-ass it.
- People don't think 173 should be famous in-universe. I disagree, but I don't decide whether my page gets deleted or not. Compromise by having it be well-known at Site-19, at least, which makes more sense and is pretty hard to disagree with. If people still have a problem with it, I will ask them how they think anybody on the Site could not know about it. Three D-class see it on a regular basis and tell their cellmates about it, scientists talk about it over coffee, and I think it's probably used for training. Not to mention the fact that, unless they regularly amnestize people after breaches, people have definitely been killed by this thing on Site, so they all know about it.
- Big letters didn't work.
- The document is an in-universe document, so I can analyze it as much as I want. Maybe throw in some additional comments by Elroy to provide a more clearly in-universe perspective, but probably not.
- Add smoother transitions to improve flow.
- Don't treat the hypotheses as true; Elroy doesn't know that I'm SCP-001, so even if he is writing my headcanon he doesn't know it's true. Instead of making a conclusion and assuming it's true, make sure that anything he says not clearly indicated by the evidence is clearly phrased as a hypothesis. If I can't conclude that something is true, I can't act like it is. Instead propose more tests.
- Cut the extradimensional control nonsense, everything after the contact lenses. That's a totally separate idea from the quantum business.
- Settle the Moto/Masipag question, or rephrase the footnote to exclude both and be clinical.
- Stay on topic
- Don't feel like "an SCPDeclassified article", whatever that means.
- Break up the wall of text with intrusions of the frame narrative.
TOO AMBITIOUS - CO76 IS HARD TO WRITE
ALSO, WAIT UNTIL THE REWRITES ARE FINISHED
- Set in the spring of 1976 at ███████/Birchwood High School. This is the school that was previously attended by the people who drowned in 2316, but the Symphony isn't aware of that.
- Syncope is trying to take over ███████. Instead of using the marching band, like they're doing at Kirk Lonwood, they're using the jazz band or a local garage band. These kids have been brainwashed with similar tactics as those employed in Remembrance, and they are equipped with Syncope instruments that, if they work properly, will restore/implant the memories of listeners from the previous iteration of history. Their plan is to deploy this attack at ███████'s prom.
- At the culmination of their performance, one of the Syncope Guys ("Wernher", perhaps) steps forward to give a speech. In conjunction with the music, his words begin to remind students of the past.
- Or, at least, that's what they would've done if the Foundation hadn't already amnestized all these people in the fall of '75 to clean up after 2316. Before Wernher can talk them forward to the end of the world in the previous 1976, they start recognizing the bodies in the water. This includes the band, who stop playing and join the rest of the students and adult chaperones on a mass exodus back to the lake. Wernher doesn't understand what's going oin.
- The Foundation dispatches forces to halt the trip to the lake and amnestize everyone again - or they don't, and that's what 2316 means when they say the Foundation just let them die.
This might be better as a tale, since it mostly just expands on Tufto's SCP and uses the same twist. If I did that, I could include a meeting of Syncope's agents discussing their plans. I could also have some stuff from Wernher's perspective as he and the rest of the Symphony succumb to 2316's influence.
Prom invitations that are periodically mailed to students of Kirk Lonwood High, all of whom are deeply traumatized by the gaping holes left in their lives when the Foundation amnestized the living Hell out of them when cleaning up after SCP-332, SCP-2316, and the other mementos of '76. The objects have no effect on other people. Graduates of Kirk Lonwood (SCP-XXXX-1) who view these invitations start to fondly remember prom night as the best night of their lives (despite the fact that, due to the school's closure, no prom happened in 1976). They begin to feel dissatisfied with their current lives, and eventually get the idea to call up old classmates and arrange another "prom". As with SCP-3776, the effect spreads to other Kirk Lonwood students through these conversations. On the anniversary date of the original event, all instances of SCP-XXXX-1 travel to the ruins of Kirk Lonwood High. When they arrive, they find that a recreation of the '76 prom that never happened (XXXX-2) is happening in the gym, with music provided by a live band playing Syncope instruments. The prom continues until midnight, at which time the whole thing (XXXX-1 included) disappears as if it were never there.
Addendum XXXX-1: Interviews with SCP-XXXX-1 instances.
Addendum XXXX-2: Exploration log of the venue where the 1976 Kirk Lonwood prom was held. Nothing extremely anomalous, except that faint music can sometimes still be heard, echoing around corners and the like. The graffiti is also weird - "I remember how the children used to sing," "We've had a great year, haven't we?" and "Can't you hear them?" are all common phrases. Nothing that would earn it SCP classification (or rip off 026 too much), but something worth noting. Unless of course 026 is Kirk Lonwood.
Addendum XXXX-3: Incident report of an SCP-XXXX-2 event, as recorded by MTF "Savage Beasts". Lots of anomalous things happen in there:
- First of all, it is only possible to cross the threshold if you are holding SCP-XXXX. Otherwise the entrant is teleported somewhere else in the school.
- Anyone entering SCP-XXXX-2 immediately takes on the appearance that they had when they attended their own high school prom. One of the agents never attended a prom and is unaffected. The change reverts upon leaving. Digital surveillance has shown that this is an illusion. Instead, we could do like Alagadda and put everybody in masks.
- Clothing worn by entrants is instantaneously removed and replaced by the clothing worn on the entrant's prom night. The change reverts upon leaving. This is also an illusion, so carried objects and things kept in pockets remain accessible. Or the Alagadda thing.
- The music is entralling, probably because it's being played on Syncope instruments. The individuals playing the instruments have been identified as members of the 1976 Kirk Lonwood High School Marching Band who were unaccounted for in SCP-332. The effect is similar to that of 814. Or maybe they're a distinct Kirk Lonwood jazz band, or something.
- The promgoers can be spoken to, but they behave as if in a dream and have a very short attention span.
- The "adult chaperones" lack faces. Nobody seems bothered by this.
- At 11:50, the Prom King and Prom Queen are crowned by an entity resembling SCP-701-1. All promgoers then begin to sing "Stairway to Heaven" or some other thematically appropriate song, accompanying the band. When the song is completed, [DATA EXPUNGED].
- All anomalous activity ceases. Any evidence of SCP-XXXX-2 and all extant copies of SCP-XXXX disappear, as do all instances of SCP-XXXX-1 (even those that were removed from the prom or prevented from arriving).
Addendum XXXX-4: As of [REDACTED]/[REDACTED]/2016, there has been no sign of an SCP-XXXX recurrence. Consultations of records have shown that, with the exception of [Lee Byron], all members of the Kirk Lonwood Class of '76 are dead or missing. Lee Byron has since been detained for further study, and has been tentatively classified as SCP-████.
A message pixelatedharmony sent to me about taking down the Class of '76:
Nothing will be gone. You can bring them back, anyone can.
SCP-826
- Test it with a blank journal.
- Use a current nonfiction book and compare it to the real place. If they match, this may be of use with historical fiction or ancient works of literature.
- Use the same fiction book with two different people, to see if fiction is created based on the description or from the imagination of the subject.
- Enter 2030 to get a good look at Laughy McLaugherson.
- Have someone conceive a child with a fictional character, then bring the child out.
SCP-682
- Try to turn its adaptive abilities against itself by provoking some kind of allergic response or giving it an autoimmune disorder.
- Use 484 to get into its memories.
- Torture it to make it more compliant or even get it to attempt suicide.
- Try to make it less hostile by teaching it how to cook or something, like 5031.
- See if SCP-657 can predict its death.
- Shoot security footage of it with the exposition gun.
- Use the suffocating Sesame Street anomaly on security footage of it.
- Finally convince 073 to do it. 682 has a brief conversation with Cain, wherein the lizard assures him that he, too, will one day outgrow his remorse and his pain will become others'. Cain asks if he can leave yet, to which 682 says "I'm not going to attack him, if that's what you're waiting for." Then it lays down and goes to sleep. 073 is allowed to leave.
- 058. Drop 682 in there instead of a cow. 058 rapidly dismembers and consumes it. Hours later, 058 ruptures from within as the regenerated 682 claws its way out. The injured 058 tries to fight 682 again, but 682 talks to it and it goes to cower in the corner instead. Both anomalies are incapacitated with a ridiculous amount of antipersonnel explosives, after which time 682 is retrieved.
- Use 2733 to decapitate it. Body grows new head, head grows new body.
- Make it watch a 5266 video by telling it 079 is on the computer.
SCP-3780
- SCP-140 is activated in the future, bringing the Daevite Empire to that time period.
- Someone uses SCP-2733 to steal JFK's head from the past.
SCP-3922
- Samurai Jack - how do the Three Moons fight Aku, vulnerable only to divine weapons?
- Something Series - can they defeat Speedrunner Mario?
- Little Runmo - they help Runmo get across the pit, so he never delves into the horrors that lie beneath. The narrative either continues to follow him, with background evidence showing 3922's defeat of the Dring King and Meatball Man, or it follows 3922 as they do so.
- A fictional movie that has been erased by the Anafabula.
- Too Many Cooks - ???
- Ferris Bueller's Day Off - the instances reveal Ferris's ruse and drag him out of bed. They also help Cameron get over his hypochondria. The movie ends early, but there's a scene at the end where a 3922 instance does the same thing Ferris did at the end of the movie ("You're still here?). Unless they'd rather not take the 4th-wall risk.
- The Zapruder Film, altered as necessary to be considered fictional.
- FOOTAGE OF THE MOON LANDING
- Knife, Scream, Cut to Black - the situation comically escalates, with the killers continually increasing in number and producing duplicates of whatever tricks 3922 comes up with. Alternatively, 3922 manages to defeat the killer with no issue before the interactive portion begins.
SCP-978
- 058 - an indescribably surreal image
- Mr. Fish - either 100% human, or 100% fish. Still dapper either way.
- 322 - a pile of broken instruments and torn, burning band uniforms (pending Cerastes rewrite)
- 939-101 - the teenage form of little Keter, hugging her "dad"
Project Isorropia
ROMANCE IS HARD
LET IT FLOW NATURALLY
"SCP-187, do you see anything unusual in this cafeteria?"
"Hmm," said Katie. She didn't bother to tell the dumbass agents leading her around Site-17 that of course she saw something unusual. Where to begin? In one corner, a man with metal arms was hitting on an improbably attractive woman with the help of a dwarfish wingman. In another, a blonde girl was chatting with two different invisible people (one of which would become visible in the future, and should probably put some clothes on before then). At a table close to the center of the room, an animatronic pirate and a talking skeleton were arguing about Dungeons and Dragons. Some kind of bug-man sat beside them, sipping soup through a proboscis. He was ignoring the argument, seeming more focused on a card trick being performed by the last tenant of the table: a guy who, aside from being covered in mud, looking pretty normal.
Wait. Katie squinted at the muddy guy. He was shorter than her, and kind of fat. Dark red mud caked his clothes and matted his messy blonde hair. As she looked closer, however, it became clear that he wasn't muddy yet. That still wouldn't have been exceptionally interesting, if not for one fact. When Katie looked down at herself now, she was covered in that very same mud. Or, rather, she was going to be.
"Who's that guy?" she asked, gesturing at him with one mitten.
"That's SCP-507," said one of her doctors. "Why? Do you see something?"
"What's he do?" she continued, ignoring the question.
"What do you mean?"
"His thing, you know, like," she gestured at her eyes with her mittens.
"Oh, his anomaly. He shifts to other dimensions." She began writing on her clipboard. "Are you seeing something strange about him?"
"Other dimensions?" she said, looking down at her muddy mittens, then back up at 507, who was now standing up to return his tray. She caught his green eyes for a second and he froze, wondering why this strange, skeletally thin girl was staring so intently at him.
"Yeah. What do you see? It might have to do with his next trip."
Katie's blue eyes widened with understanding. She suddenly knew what she was going to do, what her eyes told her she'd already done.
The guards were surprised when she suddenly broke into a sprint. One of them still almost caught her, but he tripped over the naked lady's conveniently placed invisible foot and faceplanted instead. Ignoring the shouts of guards and scientists, Katie tackled SCP-507, still frozen with surprise, to the ground. Not the hard, tiled floor of the Site-17 cafeteria, but the dark, muddy ground of another dimension.
SCP-507 had experienced many strange things, but this was the first time he'd been tackled to the ground by a scary-thin crazy woman in mittens. He tried to gasp out "What the Hell?", but the violent and unexpected collisions with the crazy woman and the ground had knocked all the breath out of him. While he struggled to refill his lungs, she jumped to her feet (painfully kneeing him in the stomach in the process). Then she started whooping for joy.
"YES!" she cried, raising her mittened hands above her head. "YES!" she repeated, literally jumping for joy. 507 quickly rolled away to keep his face from being accidentally stomped on.
"I'm freeeee!" she shouted, spinning around with eyes closed and arms outstretched. She stopped spinning at about the same time that 507 struggled to his feet, and both of them could finally take in their surroundings.
They were standing in a forest. The only sound was the gentle pitter-patter of rain as it trickled through the canopy, dripping down onto the heads of the displaced anomalies and the flat ground beneath their feet. Bluish ferns tickled their legs, and thin, blue leaves drifted down from orange branches overhead.
"Wow…" the crazy woman gasped, looking up at the bizarre trees, letting dapples of rain and blue-tinged sunlight fall on her upturned face.
507, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was more concerned with who this crazy woman was, and why she'd tackled him. "What the Hell?" he demanded, successfully this time.
For the first time since they'd shifted, she looked at him. For a second, it looked like, until that moment, she'd forgotten he was there. Then, much to 507's surprise, she sprinted at him again. He braced himself for another tackle, but this time tackling wasn't her intention.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she cried, hugging the very confused dimension-hopper tightly in her bony arms.
"Um-" he began, but she wasn't listening. After one last squeeze, she let go of him and stepped back. Then she looked down at her hands and gave another whoop of victory.
"Woohoo! Help me get these off!" she extended her mittens to 507, smiling at him expectantly.
"Wait-" he started, but didn't get to finish.
"Hurry up!" She shook her mittens at him impatiently. "I can see my hands, I know you're gonna do it."
He looked down at her hands, then back up at her almost-skeletal face. He had several questions, but they all tripped over each other on the way out and all he managed to say was "What?!"
The thin woman sighed and lowered her arms. "You're 507, right? We're in another dimension?"
"Yeah," he answered. "Who the Hell are you?"
"I'm Katie. Now help me get these mittens off and I'll shake your hand."
"Why are you wearing mittens?"
She sighed impatiently. "I don't know, just help me!" she waved them at his face again.
"No," he said, hesitantly. "I don't think I will." 507 had been with the Foundation for a while, and he knew a containment breach when he saw one. He took a few steps back in case this woman, clearly another SCP, was planning to eat him or something.
"Gah!" she cried in exasperation. "Fine, I'll do it myself." She moved over to the nearest tree and placed her right hand on it. Then she tried to plant her foot on the mitten, but lost her balance in the process and fell unceremoniously on her skinny butt instead.
507 watched her struggle ineffectually with the mittens for a little bit, then sighed and squatted down to be level with her.
"Katie?"
"Hmm?" she replied, briefly pausing in her attempt to tear a mitten off with her teeth.
"I'll help you get those off, but first you have to tell me what's going on. Okay?"
"Fine," she spat, expelling the the mitten and a wad of red mud. "What do you want to know?"
"Who are you?"
"I already-"
"Your number. What is it?"
She glared furiously at him. "187."
That didn't ring any bells to him, but he continued. "What are the mittens for?"
Katie looked away. "They're to keep me from hurting myself, okay? Can you take 'em off now?"
507 was confused. "Are you gonna hurt yourself?"
"No," she sighed. "I'm not." She sounded…disappointed?
"Why did you tackle me back there?"
"I could tell you were about to shift."
"How?"
She gestured at his clothes. "I saw the mud."
507 looked down at himself. "How?"
Katie shrugged. "It's what I do. I see things the way they're gonna be. Like right now I can see a big red mark on your forehead where you're gonna get hit or something."
507 touched his forehead, though of course there was no mark there yet.
"And I can see my hands, so I know I'm gonna get these mittens off eventually. Are you gonna help me or not?"
"Wait, why did you tackle me because you knew I was going to shift?"
"Because I wanted out of that hellhole!" she shouted, as if it was blatantly obvious. "Why else?"
507 frowned and looked around at the strangely colored forest. "Well, you're lucky we landed somewhere like this, or you'd be wanting to go back."
"I doubt it," she said, matter-of-factly. Then she extended her arms toward him again. "Mittens."
"Now, you're not gonna claw me apart or drain my life force or something are you?" he was only half-joking.
"What kind of a question is that?" she looked at him like he was an idiot.
"A serious one."
She stared for a few more moments before rolling her eyes. "No," she sighed, "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna actually touch something for once."
507 chewed his lip for a moment. He still wasn't sure he believed her.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Promise you won't kill me?"
"Yes! God, I just want to use my fucking fingers!"
"Alright! Fine." Carefully, he unbuckled the strap around her right wrist and slid the mitten off. There were no claws underneath, just a bony hand with filed-down nails, its pale, shriveled skin glistening with sweat, like a limb that had been in a cast. The stink hit 507 like a pair of gym socks, but he didn't remark on it for the lingering fear of having his life energy drained. He quickly did the same with the other hand, being careful not to touch her skin.
"Ahh," she sighed, raising both hands toward her face. Then she caught a whiff of them. "Ugh," she said, extending her arms again.
"Been wearing those for a while, huh?"
"So long," 187 answered as she ran her freed fingers through the ferns. She closed her eyes to better savor the sensation.
Squatting was starting to hurt 507's knees, so he stood back up. He watched Katie with a mixture of confusion and pity. He'd never seen anyone enjoy touching plants so much. From the way she'd danced around in the rain and sunlight, 507 got the impression that his new companion hadn't been outside in quite a while. That, combined with her horrible, unhealthy thinness, made it hard not to feel sorry for her.
While Katie was preoccupied with the unfamiliar texture of wet vegetation, 507 took the opportunity to go through his backpack and assess its contents for damage, since he'd landed on it when he fell. It would be hard to tell for sure without dumping the whole thing out, but a cursory examination didn't reveal any problems. He was still fishing for his camera when he heard Katie scream.
"No!" she wailed, clawing at her hands as if she was still trying to remove the mittens. "No!"
"What?! What is it?"
"NO!" she answered, now slamming her fists ineffectually on the ground. "That's not fair!"
"What's not fair?!"
"That's not fair!" she repeated, but the fury in her voice was already collapsing into despair. "It's not fair," she sobbed, then collapsed onto her side. Then she just lay there, curled up in the mud and crying, her eyes screwed tight.
507 was bewildered. The crying was less immediately frightening than the tackling and loud demands for mitten removal, but he had even less idea of how to handle it.
"Um," he said, cautiously, "what's wrong?"
"Mittens," she whispered. "I can still see the mittens."
"What, in the future?"
She nodded. "That means I go back. I don't get away."
507 was now convinced that Katie was not a dangerous monster, but a fellow unfortunate human who hadn't adjusted as well to containment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anybody so miserable.
"Well," he began, uncertainly, "we can change that, can't we?"
"No." She said it with such finality that he decided not to ask why.
"Oh. Uh," 507 grimaced. He scratched his head, trying to come up with something, anything he could say to comfort her. "Well, you're here now, right?"
"Now doesn't exist."
He didn't know how to respond to that, so he ignored it. "What I mean is, since you're here, you might as well enjoy it, right?"
Katie didn't answer.
Suddenly, 507 shivered. He hadn't noticed it at first, but it was kind of chilly in this dimension, and the rain wasn't helping matters. It could've just been the crying, but Katie was shivering too. As thin as she was, she must've been freezing.
"Come on," he said, "we need to find some shelter."
Katie didn't move, just wrapped her arms more tightly around herself.
"Katie, you're gonna get hypothermia."
"No I'm not."
"The rain-"
"I'm not. Or if I do, it won't kill me. The Fuckdation won't put the mittens back on me if I'm dead."
"I can't just leave you here!" he protested.
"Then don't." She rolled over, turning her back to him. "Won't matter."
Now he was starting to get angry. "Katie, I'm not gonna let you lay there and freeze."
She ignored him.
507 huffed in frustration. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered again. They really should've given him some kind of rain jacket. Probably wouldn't have helped, though, since he landed on the ground.
Suddenly, he had an idea. "Katie?"
"What?" she said, annoyed.
"Well, if you saw the mittens, that means you have to come back to the Foundation, right?"
"That's what I said."
"Well, the only way that's gonna happen is if you're touching me when I shift back. We're in another dimension, remember?"
"Okay?"
"So you have to come with me, then, don't you? So we'll be touching when I shift, and you can go back."
Katie was a quiet for a moment, presumably mulling that reasoning over in her head. Then she groaned. "Fine." 507 extended a hand to help her up, but she refused it and climbed to her feet on her own. Her teeth were chattering, but that did nothing to soften her glare. "Which way?"
507 looked around. The clouds and branches overhead made it impossible to tell which way was north, but the ground did slope upward slightly in one direction. Maybe they could get to the top of a hill and find their bearings. "This way," he said, then set off, with Katie trailing reluctantly behind.
"Hear that?"
"What?"
"I think it stopped raining. Now if we can just get out from under these trees."
Katie simply grunted in reply. Several more minutes passed before she spoke again.
"Hey, 587?"
"Uh, 507."
"Whatever," she huffed. "What's your real name?"
"Real name? Uh…" 507 began mentally flipping through the list of names he'd accumulated over the years. Tommy? No, too childish. Steve? Too boring. Grabnok the Destroyer?
"It's not a multiple choice question."
"Um…Guy."
"Guy?" Katie snorted. "That's not a name."
"Sure it is! Ever hear of Guy Fawkes?"
"No. Who's that?"
"He…ah, never mind. But it's definitely a name."
"Whatever you say, 'Guy'."
Soon after the end of this awkward exchange, the clouds overhead started to break. Thin beams of sunlight slipped between the blue boughs, glinting off the raindrops that had collected on the ferns. Guy was relieved to find that at least the sun was the right color in this dimension. Based on the shadows (and assuming it was roughly the same time of day here as it had been in the baseline), they were heading northeast.
"You gotta admit this is beautiful."
"Maybe the way you see it."
He stopped momentarily looked back at her. She looked immeasurably sad. "How do you see it?"
"Dead," she said, looking sorrowfully down at the ferns. Then she turned her eyes up to the trees. "And all the leaves are gone."
"Oh." He didn't really know what to say to that, so he said "I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "You get used to it."
They had only walked a little farther when Guy saw a break in the trees up ahead.
"Look," he said, pointing to the clearing. Katie gave no reply, but she kept following as he moved out into the open.
"Wow," he said, taking in the vista that now opened before them. The forest ended at the top of a hill, and a wide field of cerulean grass spread out all down the other side. Another grassy hill rose in the distance, with a stream trickling through the valley in between. Just being out of the dripping trees' shade was already warming him up.
"Gonna be clear tonight," he heard Katie say. Standing beside him now, she was looking up at the sky, currently as blue as the grass and holding only a few straggling white clouds.
"Wait, you see the night sky?"
"During the day, yeah." Then, surprisingly, she smiled. "God, I missed the stars."
"Do you recognize them?" Guy asked.
"What?" now she looked back at him, a confused look on her face.
"The constellations, are they the same?"
"Dunno, I'm not an astrologer."
Guy considered helping her find the Big Dipper (or correcting her on the astrologer/astronomer issue), but decided it'd be easier to just wait for night so he could see it himself. "Well, let's see if we can get to that stream. All this walking is makin' me thirsty."
"Yeah, me too." Guy started off downhill, but stopped when he didn't hear Katie following. He looked over his shoulder.
"You coming?"
"Actually," she said, sounding out of breath, "I'm gonna sit down for a second." Then she made her way towards a nearby boulder, protruding a few feet from the ground, easily wide enough for them both to sit atop.
"Oh. Of course." Guy felt like an idiot. How had he not noticed she was tired? That much uphill walking must've been exhausting, if she was as frail as she appeared.
She had already settled on the boulder with a sigh of relief when Guy reached it. "This seat taken?" he joked, gesturing at the spot beside her.
She scowled at him, unamused.
"Tough crowd," he muttered, then settled uncomfortably on the slightly damp rock.
Katie sighed in annoyance.
"What?" he asked, turning towards her.
"How can you be enjoying this?"
"What, the shift?"
"Yes!"
Guy shrugged. "I'm just glad to be somewhere nice for once."
Katie was incredulous. "Nice? We're soaking wet in the middle of nowhere!"
Guy laughed. "I've been to the middle of nowhere, and this ain't it."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means that, as alternate dimensions go, this one's pretty tame. Just be glad you're not underwater or something."
"Hmm."
They say there in silence for a little while, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
"Well," she said, quietly, "it is nice to be out of containment for a while."
That seemed like an opportune moment to broach the subject. "Yeah," Guy began, "do you not get out of your chamber much? I've never seen you around."
She shook her head. "Only when they want me to look at something."
"Look at something?"
"Yeah. Like the walls and stuff, to see if one of the monsters is gonna get loose." Then she shuddered. "Sometimes they make me look at the monsters too."
"Cool," said Guy. That was the wrong thing to say.
"What?!" she shouted, springing to her feet. "COOL?!"
"Well, I-" he didn't get to say anything, because Katie was now waving her arms and yelling at him. It was kind of scary.
"Is it cool to see a giant metal tumor island thing? Is it cool to see a giant pile of maggots with people faces? Is it cool to see a slimy old man torture people to death?"
"No," he whimpered.
She stood there for a bit, shoulders pumping as she caught her breath. "No," she agreed. "It's not." Then she sat back down on the boulder, as far away from Guy as possible and with her back to him.
Dang, he thought.
"Katie?" he asked, eventually.
"What?" she spat.
"I'm sorry."
"You should be."
"I didn't know. They don't let me near stuff like that. I thought you just meant, like, Fernand or something."
"Fernand? Who's that?"
"Some kind of French ogre dude. They let me see him once."
"Let you?"
"Well, yeah. I've always thought this paranormal stuff was…" he consciously stopped himself from saying 'cool' "…interesting, so it was kinda exciting."
Katie laughed once, sarcastically.
"What?"
She shook her head. "It's just ironic, is all. You shift out of containment like this, could leave anytime you want, and you don't want to."
"Well, actually, there's a tracking chip in my arm."
"Oh."
"You're right, though. I don't."
"Why not?"
"Cuz they're the only people I ever met who don't think I'm nuts."
While traveling, they discuss and bond over their shared experiences as anomalous people and SCPs. Katie's experience is very different from Guy's, though, and they get in somewhat of an argument over the Foundation.
They're attacked by some horrible creature. It swats her out of the way and almost kills 507, but she saves his life by bashing the creature's head in with a rock. He asks her how she did that, and she reveals that she saw its head bashed in and the blood on the rock and knew she couldn't miss.
I need them to land back 4820's chamber somehow. Maybe the creature injured Guy's leg or something and he can't walk?
Either way, they eventually shift back to SCP-4820's containment chamber (why yes, I am self-promoting). The breach alert sounds immediately, 187 freaks out because she can see 4820 all cut up from cooking, and she doesn't want to back in the facility - probably having a legit panic attack or breakdown or something. When the guards barge in to round her up she grabs one of 4820's cooking knives and threatens to slit her own throat. The guards know she can't do it, though, so they move in, she drops the knife, they cuff her, and she's hauled away. She and 507 scream their names at each other or something dramatic like that, or maybe she just deflates. 4820 puts a consoling hand on 507's shoulder.
A few days later, 187 is being spoonfed in her chamber. She spits the food on the guy's face and tells him it's not her fault, she saw the food on him when he came in. They are then interrupted by another scientist come to talk to 187's. The pranks one of them by raising up her blindfold and screaming "OH MY GOD!", only to reveal that she just saw their next haircut or that their shoe is untied. They discuss how her mood has been souring lately and she seems intent on starving herself, but then the second scientist reveals that 507 has been approved to come meet her (the director thinks it'll improve 187's mental and physical health, as well as her compliance). The doctors give them some alone time, and they happily reunite. He'll come visit her often, and he'll always make sure to get a ridiculous haircut the day after so she won't ever have to see him on fire or cut in half or turned into a giant spider or something.
"Ta-da!" he said, unrolling a single sleeping bag. Katie crossed her arms.
"What?"
She just narrowed her eyes, because he knew what.
Guy shrugged. "They only gave me one."
Katie tapped her foot impatiently.
"…and you can have it," he said, as if that had been his plan the whole time. "I'll sleep…" he looked around hopelessly for something soft. Then he sighed. "I'll sleep on the ground."
"Hey Guy."
"What?"
"When's the last time you had sex?"
"Uh. I…don't remember."
187 looked at him skeptically. "You're a virgin?"
"No! Uh."
"Oh yeah? Then who have you slept with?"
"Um. Iris?"
"Ha! Definitely a virgin."
"Well, what if I am?" Guy's face was now approximately the shade of the Scarlet King.
"Oh, I just think that if I got out of containment every two weeks I'd be using my time more creatively."
"Creative…where do you think I go when I shift?"
"I dunno, alternate universes. Like if Hitler won WWII, or dinosaurs didn't go extinct, or everybody was purple or something."
"Ha, I wish!"
"Well, where do you go?"
"Ah, let's see, there was the place where everything's on fire, the place where everybody's been killed by some fungus, the forest of plants that scream when you eat 'em, that time the Foundation tried to eat me, the world overrun with freaky statues that move when you blink…"
Katie shuddered involuntarily, remembering - or, rather, remembering that she couldn't remember - her own encounter with such a thing.
"…pudding, and then there's this empty black room where I go sometimes with this creepy smiling dude in it who's always trying to put the moves on me or something."
"Wow."
"Oh, and I was mauled by a polar bear once."
"Dang."
"So I've seen some shit, okay?"
"Oh, is that right? You wanna talk about seeing shit?" Katie sat up. "I'll tell you about seeing shit. You see that apple over there?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"You're gonna eat that later. You know how I can tell?"
"How?"
"Because when I look at that apple, I don't just see the apple. I see a fuckin' turd."
"What? Why?"
"Cuz that's what it's gonna look like in a few hours, asshole. That's what food always looks like to me."
"Ew."
"Yeah." She laid back down.
"…"
"…"
"So how long as it been since you had sex?"
"What year is it?" she asked, sarcastically.
"That long?"
"Not since those SCPricks got me." That was no surprise. Humanoid anomalies were seldom let out of supervision, and the Foundation certainly didn't approve of any, erm, "cross-testing".
"Bummer."
"Yeah."
"…"
"…"
"Well you know, I could shift back at any moment."
Katie looked condescendingly over at Guy.
"Just sayin'."
She snorted derisively and rolled onto her side to face away. Guy took that as his cue to go to sleep.
"Open," said Dr. Winston. It was hard to tell who seemed more bored - him, or the anomaly he was having to spoonfeed. SCP-187 opened her mouth, but didn't make any attempt to turn her head or otherwise acknowledge Winston's presence. At least she was finally cooperating; for the first few days after her adventure with 507, she'd refused to eat entirely.
That's what Dr. Winston thought, anyway, until she turned her head and spat a mouthful of chewed-up macaroni in his face.
"Jesus!" he cried, jumping to his feet.
"Hey, don't blame me," she said, flatly. "I saw it on your face when you came in."
Winston glared at her - not that she could tell, with the blindfold - and wiped his face off with one of her unused napkins.
GOOD IDEA IN ZOOBEENY THREAD. USE THAT. AMBITIOUS, MAYBE GET HELP FROM ARCADIA EXPERT.
Item #: SCP-5081
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5081 is to remain unplugged in its containment chamber when not in use. SCP-5081 may only be activated and used under the supervision of at least one personnel with Level 4 or higher clearance. Test subjects must be fitted with a head-mounted camera that allows the supervisor to maintain constant observation of SCP-5081's screen while it is in use.
Description: SCP-5081 is an arcade cabinet containing the game "Pact-Man". The cabinet is designed to closely resemble the Pac-Man arcade cabinets distributed in North America by Midway Games in the 1980s, and can easily be mistaken for such. Pact-Man is a clone1 of Pac-Man, featuring nearly identical gameplay, visuals, and sound effects. Notable differences include:
- The “ghost house” at the center of each maze contains at least ten pairs of disembodied eyes in addition to those of the four ghosts. These additional eyes are never observed to leave the ghost house or form ghosts.
- The Pac-Man sprite (SCP-5081-1) includes a red dot above its mouth, likely intended to represent an eye.
- The intermission scenes normally played after rounds 2 and 5 are replaced by interactive segments.
During the anomalous interactive segments, the maze is replaced by a featureless black background that SCP-5081-1 appears in front of. Interactions with SCP-5081-1 always follow one of a few predetermined paths based on the player's choices, and its dialogue is the same each time. It is unclear if SCP-5081-1 is sentient. For an example interaction with SCP-5081-1, see Addendum 5081-1 below.
Addendum 5081-1: Record of SCP-5081 Test
<begin log>
[The door to SCP-5081's containment chamber opens. D-6511 enters, and Security Officer O██████ closes the door behind him.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Good morning, D-6511.
[D-6511 looks at the one-way window between the containment chamber and the observation room.]
D-6511: Eh, I've had worse. Who's this?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: I'm Dr. Lee Roy Carlson.
D-6511: Is that Leroy or Lee Roy?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Uh, just Dr. Carlson.
D-6511: Alright. So what am I here for?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: We need you to play the video game over there.
D-6511: Well, that's not so bad.
[D-6511 approaches SCP-5081.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: You'll need to plug it in first.
[D-6511 moves behind SCP-5081 and plugs it into the wall. He examines the cabinet art in the process.]
D-6511: Hey, this isn't Pac-Man.
[SCP-5081 powers on, displaying the title screen. The screen is similar to a normal Pac-Man title screen, but it displays the title as "PACT-MAN", the Namco logo is replaced with the word "Arcadia", and the copyright information reads "© 1981 Arcadia".
D-6511: "Pact-Man"?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Insert the quarter you were given and begin a 1-player game.
D-6511: Alright. Hey, there's something sticky on this button.
[D-6511 begins the game and completes the first two rounds without losing a life. After the end of the second round, the first interactive sequence begins.]
[SCP-5081-1 enters the screen from the right side. It stops at the center of the screen and begins to "speak" by opening and closing its mouth, producing the typical "waka-waka" sound. SCP-5081-1's actual dialogue appears in white text above the sprite, in the same font as the rest of the game's text.]
SCP-5081: I AM THE PACT MAN.
D-6511: Huh?
SCP-5081: DO YOU WANT TO MAKE A DEAL?
[The words "YES" and "NO" appear on screen.]
D-6511: I guess you want me to pick yes.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Yes.
[D-6511 uses the joystick to select "YES" and presses the start button.]
SCP-5081: WHAT DO YOU DESIRE?
[A menu of letters appears, similar to the one used for entering a player's initials after earning a high score.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Please note that requesting a weapon, your freedom, or anything else, uh, tricky will result in your termination.
D-6511: I just can't have any fun, can I? [D-6511 pauses to think.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Just request something simple. Like a chocolate cake.
D-6511: Pfft. I'm not about to waste my wish on dessert.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: [sighs] Fine. Just pick something simple and keep playing.
D-6511: Would a pair of wings be considered "tricky"?
[Dr. Lee Roy Carlson is indistinctly heard conferring with project supervisor Dr. V█████.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: No, but you'd become anomalous and we'd have to contain you.
D-6511: Hmm…
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: I don't recommend it
D-6511: Fine. [D-6511 uses the joystick and A button to input "BETTER EYES".2] How's that?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: That's fine. Just keep playing.
[D-6511 moves to press the A button, but hesitates.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: What is it, 65?
D-6511: You ever see that movie Tales From the Crypt?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Um, no. Why?
D-6511: Well, I just…this seems like one of those situations where you make a wish but you get screwed over, you know? Like, you wish for money so your rich mom dies or something.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Oh, like "The Monkey's Paw"?
D-6511: The what?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Ah, never mind. I know what you mean.
D-6511: Okay, so you know what I'm worried about then. What if this thing just rips out some other guy's eyes and gives them to me, or makes another set grow out of my forehead or something?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Just finish the test, 65. I'm sure it'll be fine.
D-6511: Are you? I don't think you'd have had me do it if you didn't think something was gonna go wrong.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: That's just a precaution. Now finish the test.
D-6511: You say that like I don't have a choice.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Well, technically…
D-6511: Yeah, I know. Can I at least change my answer first?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: I don't think you can.
[D-6511 looks more closely at the available letters. There is no backspace button.]
D-6511: Shit.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Please just finish the test.
D-6511: [quietly] Dammit.
[D-6511 selects ENTER]
SCP-5081: FEED ME, AND IT WILL BE YOURS.
[SCP-5081 moves off the right side of the screen and normal play resumes.]
[D-6511 completes round 3 without losing a life.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: You're pretty good at this.
D-6511: Thanks. I misspent a lot of my youth at the arcade.
[Round 4 begins. Shortly thereafter, D-6511 loses a life and shivers violently.]
D-6511: Jesus, what was that?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: What was what?
D-6511: Got a chill. Like somebody walked on my grave, you know?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: …just try not to get a Game Over.
D-6511: What does it look like I'm doing?
[D-6511 finishes round 4 and begins the next.]
D-6511: So what is this thing, Dr. C?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: I can't tell you that, 65.
D-6511: Why the hell not? You're gonna execute me at the end of the month anyway.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: What? Who told you that?
D-6511: Randy. I mean, 5698.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: He's messing with you. We don't do that.
D-6511: Really?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Really. We can't just execute people for no reason. Not even you guys.
D-6511: Well, that's a relief, I guess. Long as the possessed arcade game doesn't get me.
[D-6511 completes round 5, and another cutscene begins.]
[SCP-5081-1 moves onto the screen and begins "speaking", as before.
SCP-5081-1: WILL YOU FEED ME?
[The option to select "YES" or "NO" reappears.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Please select-
D-6511: [selects "YES"] Yeah, I know.
SCP-5081-1: THIS IS WHAT YOU MUST DO:
KILL SOMEONE.
BATHE A QUARTER IN THEIR BLOOD.
FEED ME.
D-6511: Jesus Christ.
[The words INSERT COIN appear below the last line of SCP-5081-1's dialogue.]
D-6511: Now what do I do?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Stand by.
[The camera pans about the area as D-6511 looks around, stretches, and walks to the other side of the room.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Move away from the door.
D-6511: [sighs] Oops, looks like you foiled my escape attempt. [D-6511 crosses the room again to stand beside SCP-5081.]
[The containment chamber door opens. Security Officer O██████ enters, carrying a small metal box. She places it on the table in the testing chamber, then leaves.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Open the box.
[D-6511 approaches and opens the box, revealing a pair of rubber gloves, a single US quarter, and a small tupperware container filled with blood.
D-6511: Uh, doctor?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Please put on the gloves and dip the quarter in the blood.
D-6511: Seriously?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Yes.
D-6511: Ugh.
[D-6511 dons the rubber gloves, picks up the quarter, and opens the container.]
D-6511: Say, uh, where'd you get this blood?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Don't worry about that.
D-6511: …yeah, I don't really wanna know anyway. [D-6511 dips the quarter in the blood.] This is gonna drip all over the floor.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: That's okay, we're gonna clean it afterwards.
D-6511: Okay. Guess you want me to put it in, then?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Yes.
D-6511: Alright, can do. [D-6511 returns to SCP-5081, holding the bloody quarter at arm's length to keep it from dripping on his clothes.]
D-6511: I'm gonna get blood all over the machine.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: We'll clean that too.
D-6511: Alright then. This better be worth it, Pact-Man.
[D-6511 places the quarter in SCP-5081's coin slot.]
[The screen from the beginning of the game, displaying the ghosts and their names and nicknames, reappears. Only a single ghost is introduced, a white one identified as "MALIK" and nicknamed "THE PRICE".]
[Another round begins. The normal four ghosts are absent, with "MALIK" appearing instead. As D-6511 plays the round, "MALIK" moves very unpredictably and seems to actively avoid SCP-5081-1.]
D-6511: Uh, do you want me to eat that one?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Yes.
[Despite Dr. Carlson's instructions, D-6511 seems to be avoiding eating "MALIK". Even after SCP-5081-1 eats a power pellet, he makes no attempt to catch the ghost]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: 65, I told you to eat that one.
D-6511: Do I really have to?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Yes.
D-6511: But my eyes-
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: 65, when you agreed to become a D-class personnel, you agreed to cooperate with testing. If you continue refusing to cooperate-
D-6511: Alright, alright! No need for that.
[After controlling SCP-5081-1 to eat a "power pellet", D-6511 "eats" the white ghost. The ghost's disembodied eyes fly back to the rectangular "ghost house" at the center of the maze, but the ghost does not reemerge. Upon completion of the round, a new cutscene begins.]
SCP-5081-1: DELICIOUS!
SCP-5081-1: OUR PACT IS FULFILLED!
[D-6511 startles slightly.]
[SCP-5081-1 exits the screen.]
[D-6511 raises his unbloodied hand to his face.]
D-6511: No way. [D-6511 removes his glasses.] Holy shit!
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: What?
D-6511: I can see! Like, perfectly.
[The words "PRESS START TO CONTINUE" appear on the screen.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Do not press start.
[D-6511 hesitates.]
D-6511: You sure? I mean, my hearing's not great either.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: I'm sure. Now step away from the machine.
D-6511: …yeah, let's not push it.
[D-6511 steps away from the machine.]
[SCP-5081 returns to the title screen.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Please remove the gloves and place them back in the box.
D-6511: Sure thing.
[D-6511 moves back to the table and begins removing the gloves.]
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: [quietly, to Dr. V█████] Okay, we can stop the rec-
D-6511: Hey, uh, Dr. Carlson?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: What?
[D-6511 has stopped, with one glove partially removed. He is looking at the remaining blood in the opened plastic container.]
D-6511: Where'd you say you got this blood from, again?
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: I didn't. Why?
[D-6511 bites his lip for a moment.]
D-6511: I just…Malik's not a very common name.
Dr. Lee Roy Carlson: Um, no, I don't suppose it is. [Quietly, to Dr. V█████] Stop the recording!
D-6511: I just remembered, though. I did know a Malik once. [D-6511 looks up at the window. He is visibly upset.] I think you called him D-
<end log>
KINDA FUNNY, PRETTY BORING
Sonderance suggests that I create a more satisfying ending. Perhaps, instead of realizing they're in the wrong place and leaving, the entities realize that war isn't the fun game they thought it was. They could respond to this by ceasing all reenactments, or they could attempt to make their reenactments more accurate by actually killing each other or humans.
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Foundation webcrawlers are to monitor the internet for photos, videos, or eyewitness accounts of SCP-XXXX events and remove the offending media. Covert listening posts are to be established at the locations of famous battles and of previous SCP-XXXX events to monitor them for future incidents. When an SCP-XXXX event takes place, Foundation forces are to mobilize to the location immediately and set up a perimeter around the affected area. Throughout the duration of the event, Foundation forces are to assist SCP-XXXX-1 instances in keeping civilians from interfering with the event. Any photos or videos taken of SCP-XXXX by civilians are to be confiscated and retained for further study. SCP-XXXX has yet to manifest in any populated areas; if it should do so, the more strenuous procedures contained in Document XXXX-1 are to be implemented. Civilian observation of SCP-XXXX manifestations that include reconstructions of other anomalous phenomena are to be completely suppressed via amnestization and/or standard cover story B-14 ("Film Shoot").
As no SCP-XXXX events have occurred since September 7th, 20██, reclassification to Neutralized is under consideration.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a phenomenon that occurs at or near the locations of famous battles. At unpredictable intervals (but often on the anniversary of the relevant battle), numerous entities (designated SCP-XXXX-1) wearing military uniforms appropriate to the battle in question will manifest, accompanied by weapons, artillery, and other military hardware associated with said battle. Simultaneously with SCP-XXXX-1's appearance, the terrain of the affected area transforms to match its state at the time of the original battle, including manmade fortifications such as trenches and embankments. SCP-XXXX lasts for a period ranging from a few hours to several days, during which time SCP-XXXX-1 instances reenact the battle in question. Once the battle is complete, all SCP-XXXX-1 instances demanifest and the affected terrain returns to its original state, leaving no evidence of SCP-XXXX. It is unknown if SCP-XXXX can affect manmade structures in this way, as it has yet to manifest in areas where such structures exist. When SCP-XXXX reenacts a battle that occurred in a place where manmade structures now exist, the manifestation instead occurs in the nearest open space of sufficient size.
SCP-XXXX generates an antimemetic effect that prevents observers not already aware of SCP-XXXX's nature from recognizing it is as an unusual occurrence or noticing that SCP-XXXX-1 are not humans. Those who observe SCP-XXXX typically assume it to be a non-anomalous war reenactment. This property is not retained by images or recordings of SCP-XXXX.
SCP-XXXX-1 instances are incorporeal and invisible. They communicate with each other in the language and dialect appropriate to the time and place of the battle they are reenacting, and wear appropriate military uniforms. Their equipment and all accompanying paraphernalia (including mounts, vehicles, and beasts of burden, where applicable3), though visible, are incapable of physically interacting with non-SCP-XXXX-1 beings. SCP-XXXX-1 and their equipment can affect physical aspects of the terrain, but have only been observed to do so within the context of the reenactment - felling trees, digging trenches, leaving footprints, etc. It is not known if SCP-XXXX-1 can perceive other beings. See Addenda.
At least ███ suspected SCP-XXXX events have been identified through scattered photographic evidence, stretching back to at least 1874. Such evidence is rare, as SCP-XXXX's antimemetic properties frequently prevent observers from perceiving it as interesting enough to photograph. However, the increasing proliferation of smartphones has made photography (both intentional and accidental) of SCP-XXXX more common, warranting current containment procedures.
Addendum XXXX-1: Summary of notable SCP-XXXX events. Unremarkable incidents and those that could not be confirmed have been omitted.
| Location | Date | Battle Reenacted | Notes |
| Prince William County, Virginia, United States | August 29-30 | Second Battle of Bull Run/Manassas | First occurrence of SCP-XXXX discovered by Foundation, when a civilian posted a "selfie" on social media with two SCP-XXXX-1 instances visible in the background. Images were removed and a cover story claiming the images were digitally altered was disseminated. |
| Megiddo, Israel | April 16th | Battle of Megiddo (1457 BCE) | SCP status confirmed, containment procedures instituted. Largest known SCP-XXXX manifestation. |
| Siberia | October 9th | unknown | One side of SCP-XXXX-1 appeared to be a Mongol force, while the other [DATA EXPUNGED]. Believed to be a conflict between the Mongol forces of Genghis Khan and the Daevite civilization. First known manifestation depicting additional anomalous phenomena. |
| Rorke's Drift, South Africa | January 22nd and 23rd | Battle of Rorke's Drift | A commercial jet liner flew overhead during the battle, and several SCP-XXXX-1 instances were observed glancing up at it. First indication of SCP-XXXX-1 sentience, plans to make contact formulated. |
| Near the Rock of Gibraltar, Spain | November 24th | unknown | A few dozen SCP-XXXX-1 appeared clad in animal hides and fur and armed with clubs, spears, and other simple weaponry. SCP-XXXX-1 instances on one side displayed size and posture more consistent with reconstructions of Homo neanderthalensis than Homo sapiens. Smallest known SCP-XXXX event. Event had ended before contact could be attempted. |
| East Sussex, United Kingdom | October 14th | Battle of Hastings | Communication with SCP-XXXX-1 attempted. See Addendum XXXX-2. |
| Near Kingsport, Tennessee | September 7th | unknown; see Addendum XXXX-3 | See Addendum XXXX-3. |
Addendum XXXX-2: Attempted communication with SCP-XXXX-1.
D-1066, communicating via earpice with Dr. V█████, attempted to contact a pair of SCP-XXXX-1 instances scouting ahead of the "English army".
<begin log>
D-1066: Whoa! Are those ghosts?
Dr. V█████: We're not sure. Please approach them and attempt to make contact.
D-1066: [walking towards SCP-XXXX-1 instances and waving arms] Hey!
[SCP-XXXX-1 halt and turn to look at D-1066.]
SCP-XXXX-1-A: Hey, get off the field!4
SCP-XXXX-1-B: You're in the way!
D-1066: Uh, the way of what?
SCP-XXXX-1-A: The Battle of Hastings, what else? Now move it, we're scouting!
Dr. V█████: Leave the area.
D-1066: Don't have to tell me twice. Sorry guys!
[SCP-XXXX-1 continue riding.]
<end log>
Once it was confirmed that interruption of the SCP-XXXX event would not cause demanifestation or immediate hostility, Dr. V█████ approached an encampment of "English" SCP-XXXX-1 instances. It was still a few minutes before combat was expected to begin.
<begin log>
Dr. V█████: Excuse me!
[Six SCP-XXXX instances in the immediate area notice Dr. V█████.]
SCP-XXXX-1-C: What?
Dr. V█████: I'd like to speak with you all for a minute.
SCP-XXXX-1-C: [turning to another instance] How much time we got?
[second instance shrugs]
SCP-XXXX-1-C: Sure, why not? Take a seat. [instance gestures to a nearby crate]
Dr. V█████: Um. That's intangible, isn't it?SCP-XXXX-1-C: Oh, right. Sorry.
Dr. V█████: That's alright, I'll stand. So, uh, what are you guys doing here?
SCP-XXXX-1-C: Reenacting the Battle of Hastings, obviously.
Dr. V█████: Why?
SCP-XXXX-1-C: [shrugs] Cuz it's fun? You guys might be three-dimensional, but you really know how to fight.
Dr. V█████: Are you not three-dimensional?
SCP-XXXX-1-C: Not usually. We are right now, though, obviously.
Dr. V█████: I see. So you're not from around here, then?
SCP-XXXX-1-C: [laughs] Definitely not. We just come here for the reenactments. Can't really do it back home, since we don't have this stuff. [SCP-XXXX-1-C points at the ground.]
Dr. V█████: You don't have…ground?
SCP-XXXX-1-C: We don't have matter.
Dr. V█████: Oh.
SCP-XXXX-1-C: Say, speaking of matter, can I ask you a question?
Dr. V█████: Um, sure.
SCP-XXXX-1-C: How do you guys reconstitute yourselves?
Dr. V█████: What?
SCP-XXXX-1-C: Y'know, how do you put everybody back together after the battle? It's easy for us, but you guys are made of matter. How do you do it?
Dr. V█████: Oh. Um, well, I'm not a medical doctor, so I don't really know the…specifics.
SCP-XXXX-1-C: Oh, okay.
[A bugle sounds in the distance, and the present SCP-XXXX-1 instances stand up.]
SCP-XXXX-1-C: Oop, that's my cue. Later, guy.
Dr. V█████: Uh, later.
<end log>
SCP-XXXX-1 instances proceeded to reenactment the Battle of Hastings. Attempts to communicate with SCP-XXXX-1 during the battle were ignored or met with demands to get out of the way and/or stop disrupting the battle. SCP-XXXX demanifested as normal at the battle's conclusion.
Addendum XXXX-3: Final occurrence.
On September 7th, SCP-XXXX manifested near Kingsport, Tennessee, at a location where no historical battle was known to have taken place. Webcrawlers identified the event through social media chatter and forces were dispatched to keep the event contained. Initial observations found that, while they resembled those of late 20th-century American military, the uniforms worn by SCP-XXXX-1 did not exactly match any known to have existed. SCP-XXXX-1 forces were also equipped with assorted anomalous weaponry and equipment not corresponding to any known conflict. Dr. V█████ arrived shortly before the battle began, at which time he approached the nearest group of SCP-XXXX-1 instances.
<begin log>
Dr. V█████: What are you doing?
SCP-XXXX-1-D: Same thing as always, what do you mean?
Dr. V█████: But what battle is this? I'm not aware of any that occurred here.
SCP-XXXX-1-D: What are you talking about? This is the infamous battle of the Pinnacle, the turning point of the Second American Civil War, where the Regular Alliance Troupe defeated [DATA EXPUNGED]!
Dr. V█████: Second Civil War?
SCP-XXXX-1-D: Yeah. In 1977, remember?
Dr. V█████: Um, there was not a civil war in 1977.
SCP-XXXX-1-D: Oh, so I'm lying? Are you callin' me a liar?
[A reconstruction of SCP-058 walks by.]
Reconstruction of SCP-058: …stricken by the crumbling influence, I knew not the morning of…
Dr. V█████: I am 100% confident that nothing like that has ever fought in any war on this planet.
SCP-XXXX-1-E: What's the problem over here? We're about to start.
SCP-XXXX-1-D: This clown is tryin' to tell me there was no Second Civil War.
SCP-XXXX-1-E: [looks at Dr. V█████] Oh shit. [SCP-XXXX-1-E produces an unknown sound, believed to be SCP-XXXX-1-F's name.5]
SCP-XXXX-1-F: Huh?
SCP-XXXX-1-E: You booked the wrong universe, you stupid idiot!
SCP-XXXX-1-F: What? I did not!
SCP-XXXX-1-E: Oh yeah? then explain to me this guy's face.
SCP-XXXX-1-F: Oh shit.
Dr. V█████: What?
SCP-XXXX-1-E: That's what I said! How, when you were reserving this place, did you fail to notice these people's faces?
Dr. V█████: What about our faces?
SCP-XXXX-1-F: [shrugs] They all look the same to me.
SCP-XXXX-1-E: Wow.
SCP-XXXX-1-D: Racist.
SCP-XXXX-1-F: [pointing to SCP-XXXX-1-D] Hey, you didn't notice it either!
SCP-XXXX-1-E: [turns to Dr. V█████] I am so sorry about this. Next time we'll make sure somebody who can tell if people have faces does the planning.
[SCP-XXXX demanifests.]
Dr. V█████: Tell if what?!
<end log>
This is the last recorded SCP-XXXX event to date.
I LIKE THIS ONE AND WILL TRY AGAIN IN THE SUMMER. CONSIDER ALLOWING DEE TO TALK TO LEE TO ALLOW FOR FUNNY DIALOGUE.
NOTE: Rather than the band-aid/quarter ecology, instances of SCP-588 could live at the bottom of the pool and bite people's feet. Maybe they prey on the band-aids, which get nutrition in some other way.
Dr. Carlson: Each unit contains a microscopic interdimensional aperture that's impermeable to matter but allows transmission of electromagnetic waves.
[D-11424 continues to stare blankly at Dr. Carlson.]
Dr. Carlson: They've got tiny portals in them.
D-11424: Oh.
Item #: SCP-5844
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: The pool containing SCP-5844 has purchased by a Foundation front company (Safe & Clean Pools) and converted to an indoor pool for the purposes of secrecy. It is to remain closed to the public under the pretense of ongoing renovations. The pool is to be drained when testing is not underway. Any entites that emerge from SCP-5844 are to be captured for study if possible.
Description: SCP-5844 is an interdimensional portal located in the diving well of the public swimming pool at ████████████ Park in ████████, VA. For an individual to pass through SCP-5844, the following criteria must be met:
- The individual must dive into SCP-5844 from the diving board.
- The individual must be wearing a bathing suit and no other clothes.
- The individual must have showered no more than fifteen (15) minutes before diving.
Upon passing completely below the surface of the water, individuals meeting these criteria are transported to an extradimensional space designated SCP-5844-1.
Addendum 5844-1: Exploration of SCP-5844-1.
D-48923 was the first test subject sent into SCP-5844. She was equipped with bathing suit, tinted swimming goggles, a waterproof head-mounted camera, and a radio transmitter.
When D-48923 failed to return or make contact within 24 hours of entry, D-54882 was sent to explore SCP-5844 and recover her if possible. He also failed to return or make contact within 24 hours. It is assumed that radio transmissions cannot pass through SCP-5844-1.
Due to his past experience with similar anomalies, exploration specialist D-11424 was chosen to enter SCP-5844-1 next. D-11424 was equipped similarly to the previous test subjects, minus the radio transmitter.
<begin log>
[D-11424 is standing at the base of the ladder leading to SCP-5844's diving board.]
D-11424: Camera on.
[D-11424 climbs the ladder, then looks at Dr. Lee Roy Carlson, who is standing at the edge of the pool a few meters away.]
D-11424: You guys ready?
Dr. Carlson: Whenever you are.
D-11424: Alright.
[D-11424 takes a deep breath, then begins running towards the end of the diving board.]
D-11424: Cannonball!
[D-11424 leaps into SCP-5844 and resurfaces in SCP-5844-1.]
D-11424: Ah!
[D-11424 looks around. He is now floating in a large body of water that stretches to the horizon. The water is extremely clear and, aside from the waves created by D-11424, still. A sun visually similar to Earth's hangs in a blue, cloudless sky overhead. A small, low island with a gray, rectangular structure on it is visible less than a kilometer away.]
D-11424: Crap, I lost my trunks.6 You guys better blur out my junk.
[D-11424 looks down. Despite the clarity of the water, the bottom is not visible. D-11424 looks up at the island.]
D-11424: Guess I'm going that way.
[D-11424 begins swimming toward the island, using the breast stroke. He pauses about halfway to the island and floats on his back to rest.]
D-11424: [slightly out of breath] Captain's log, stardate…shit, I don't know what day it is. Oh well. Anyway, I'm about halfway to that island. The water tastes like chlorine, and it's kinda cold. [D-11424 turns his head to either side.] Basically, it's a really big pool. Hopefully that building over there is a concession stand. [laughs] I'm working up an appetite.
[D-11424 rests for a few more minutes, then resumes swimming. When he is approximately 100 meters from the island, the bottom of the water becomes visible a considerable depth below. It appears to be blue-painted concrete, like the bottom of SCP-5844.]
[D-11424 continues approaching the island, speeding up slightly. The bottom slopes upward as he approaches, becoming shallow enough for him to stand approximately 25 meters from the island. D-11424 does so.]
D-11424: That is not a normal island.
[The island appears rectangular and approximately 25 meters long on the side facing D-11424. In lieu of a beach, the island is ringed by a concrete wall with a curved upper lip, identical to the edges of SCP-5844. The island's only visible features are a rectangular concrete structure at its center, and a series of irregularly spaced pool ladders around its edges.]
[D-11424 begins wading towards the island.]D-11424: What the-
[D-11424 looks down. He raises his right foot and turns it. A large band-aid is stuck to the sole.]
D-11424: Ew!
[D-11424 vigorously kicks his foot, unsuccessfully attempting to shake off the band-aid.]
D-11424: [sighs] This is why I hate public pools.
[D-11424 attempts to peel the band-aid from the bottom of his foot. When he touches it, the band-aid suddenly twitches, detaching itself in the process.]
D-11424: Gah!
[D-11424 swims away from the animate band-aid. He watches as it sinks to the bottom and begins to gradually crawl toward the island, moving its body like an inchworm.]
D-11424: Well, that's disgusting.
[D-11424 continues wading toward the island, giving the band-aid a wide berth and keeping his eyes on the bottom. As he approaches the island, more small objects are visible on the bottom.]
D-11424: Is that money?
[D-11424 dives below the water, at this point approximately four feet deep. Various coins are scattered across the bottom. He watches as another animate band-aid slowly moves on top of a nearby penny. The band-aid adheres to the coin with one of its adhesive patches, then curls up to envelop the penny. D-11424 surfaces to take a breath, then dives again. He attempts to pick up a coin, but it appears stuck to the bottom. D-11424 tries again with a similar coin, with identical results, then surfaces.]
D-11424: Well, that's weird. Anyway.
[D-11424 closes the rest of the distance to the island, careful to avoid stepping on any coins or band-aids, which both become more numerous closer to the island. Upon reaching the wall, he looks up at the structure. The island's surface consists entirely of gray porous concrete identical to the deck surrounding SCP-5844. The structure is made from smooth gray concrete and has no visible features. Two doors are evenly spaced along the wall. D-11424 proceeds to the nearest ladder and uses it to exit the water.]
D-11424: Wooh! That wind is cold.
[D-11424 approaches the left door, which is labeled "MEN".]
D-11424: Locker rooms? I hope there's some pants in here.
[D-11424 opens the door. The interior is dimly illuminated by a series of clouded glass skylights, revealing a small room containing a bench with lockers on the walls. A hallway opposite the door continues further into the structure. He enters the locker area and begins attempting to open the lockers. Some are locked with combination locks, while others are unlocked but empty. Eventually, D-11424 finds one with an unlocked combination lock and opens it, revealing a lime green gym bag. He opens the bag and finds a dark blue beach towel and a pair of floral-pattern swim trunks.]
D-11424: Jackpot!
[D-11424 dries himself and dons the trunks. He then places the towel and lock in the bag, which he puts on over his shoulders like a backpack.]
D-11424: Kinda big, but beggars can't be choosers. Now, let's see what's over here.
[He enters the hallway and comes to a restroom. Pieces of wet toilet paper are strewn about the floor, amid small puddles of unknown liquid.]
D-11424: And here I thought the band-aid would be the grossest thing I saw today.
[D-11424 enters the bathroom, careful to avoid the puddles and toilet paper in the floor, and checks the stalls. All are uninhabited, but one of the toilets has been defecated in.]
D-11424: Seriously? [raises his foot to flush the toilet, but changes his mind and lowers it again] Actually, I bet that goes straight to the pool. No thanks.
[D-11424 continues exploring the bathroom. The soap and toilet paper dispensers are found to be empty. The faucets are functional, and he attempts to drink from one of them, only to spit out the water.]
D-11424: Yech. Pool water.
[D-11424 returns to the locker room and exits the building. It is close to midday. He begins whistling "Volcano" by Jimmy Buffett and rounds the structure to the other side of the island. There are no other entrances to the building, but a similar-looking island is visible in the distance, approximately as far away as the first island was from D-11424's arrival point.]
D-11424: Guess that's my next stop.
[D-11424 spends a few minutes performing various athletic stretches. He stands up when finished.]
D-11424: Alright. Here we go.
[D-11424 jumps back into the water and swims towards the next island. The bottom of the pool slopes downward, but plateaus at an estimated depth of ten to fifteen feet. He stops about a fourth of the way there to rest.]
D-11424: [out of breath] Man, high school was longer ago than I thought.
[He continues to float until he catches his breath. As D-11424 rights himself to resume swimming, he notices movement in the distance off to the right of the next island and turns to look. At least a kilometer away, several long, brightly-colored shapes are moving slowly across the surface of the water from D-11424's right to his left.]
D-11424: Huh.
[He treads water and watches the shapes for about a minute, then resumes swimming. A large, stationary, dark shape becomes visible in the water ahead. As he approaches, it becomes clear that the shape is a dense, roughly circular clump of lane dividers approximately twenty meters in diameter. The lines float vertically with one end just beneath the surface and the other near the bottom.]
D-11424: Lane lines?
[Diving underwater, D-11424 inspects the dividers. They are anchored by metal rings embedded in the bottom of the pool, and sway slowly back and forth in the current. D-11424 resurfaces to breathe.]
D-11424: Looks like a kelp forest. Huh.
[D-11424 swims around the line lines and continues toward the island. The bottom gradually slopes upwards again until, about 25 meters away, D-11424 is able to stand again.]
D-11424: [very out of breath] Hah…tired…
[He wades closer to the island, looking at his feet. There are band-aids and coins on the bottom here as well, which D-11424 is still careful not to step on. He uses another ladder to climb onto the island. The structure is similar to the one containing the locker rooms, but has no features on the side facing D-11424. He circles around to the other side of the structure. A large rectangular window with a countertop extends along most of its length, and there is a door beside it at the other end. A faded sign above the window reads "CONCESSIONS".]
D-11424: Thank God.
[D-11424 looks inside the window. Shelves and unpowered glass-doored refrigerators line the back wall of the structure, containing a variety of drinks and snacks.]
D-11424: Anybody home?
[D-11424 leans over the counter and peers inside the structure. A few empty food and drink containers litter the floor, but there is no one inside. Seeing this, he moves over to the door, opens it, and enters. He selects a bottle of water and a bag of potato chips, then seats himself on the counter.]
D-11424: Alright, I've got all the room-temperature Coke and stale chips I can eat. [D-11424 swings his legs over the counter, to the outside. A third island is visible, the same distance away.] Looks like I'm on the trail of the last guy you sent in. Probably went that way, so I guess that's where I'm going next.
[D-11424 spends a few minutes consuming his chips and water.]
D-11424: Think I'm gonna stay here for the night, though. [removes the camera and points it at his face] D-11424, signing off. Ha!
[D-11424 deactivates the camera. When it reactivates, D-11424 is facing toward the third island. It is early morning; based on the sun's position, D-11424 is facing north. The sky is still cloudless.]
D-11424: Here we go, dawn of the second day. Nothing happened last night. Slept on the towel, used some honey buns for a pillow. Wasn't comfortable. Oh, and the moon and stars looked just like the ones back home, in case that means anything to you guys. I've stuffed my bag with snacks and drinks, which will hopefully stay watertight. Not looking forward to swimming with that on my back, but it's better than going hungry.
[D-11424 approaches the water and looks down at it. Numerous dead insects of varying species are floating on the surface.]
D-11424: Lot of dead bugs in the water today. Haven't seen any live ones, so I don't know how that happened.
[D-11424 reenters the water and continues to the next island, pausing to rest occasionally. He stops about 75 meters from the island, however, because there are large shapes moving about on it.]
D-11424: Whoa. Are those…birds?
[The figures on the island are white and approximately human-sized, but their movement and general shape are reminiscent of large wading birds. There are three in all, moving slowly along the edges of the island. D-11424 resumes swimming toward the island, more slowly than before. As he approaches, the shapes become identifiable as large, wading-bird-like creatures. In place of beaks, long structures ending rectangular nets protrude from their faces. They appear to be using the nets to scoop the dead insects out of the water.]
D-11424: [laughs] Pool skimmers. Incredible.
[The birds startle at the sound of D-11424's voice and take to the air. They fly away to the west.]
D-11424: Oops.
[D-11424 continues to the island. It appears identical to the previously explored ones, but there are no structures on it. Instead, dozens of deck chairs are arranged in neat rows across it. Yet another island is visible in the distance, but it appears much larger than the previous two and seems to be covered in trees or similar vegetation. D-11424 lays down on one of the deck chairs and sighs in relief.]
D-11424: Now this is a place to sleep. Gonna turn off the camera and snooze a bit, since I'm a free interdimensional man and you can't stop me.
[D-11424 deactivates the camera. When he reactivates it, it is around noon based on the position of the sun.]
D-11424: Hey, still here. Took a quick nap, had a snack, stretched, heading for the next island. This one's bigger and looks like it might lave trees or something, so that's exciting.
[D-11424 moves to the northern side of the island. More of the brightly colored shapes are visible moving across the water between there and the fourth island, heading west.]
D-11424: I can't really see 'em from this far away, but I have a hunch that those are floats. Don't know how they're moving without any wind, unless they're alive like those band-aids. Wouldn't be surprised.
[D-11424 swims to the next island, pausing to rest occasionally. He does not speak until he reaches the island. It is indeed much larger than the previous islands, and the structures that initially appeared to be trees are in fact large, green umbrellas.]
D-11424: Umbrella forest. Okay.
[D-11424 climbs out of the water. The umbrellas are arranged with no discernible pattern. Each umbrella emerges directly from the concrete. The umbrella forest continues as far into the island's interior as can be seen. D-11424 consumes some more of his snacks, then continues into the forest.]
D-11424: Ugh. What is that smell?
[D-11424 continues walking. A clearing in the umbrellas is visible ahead.]
D-11424: God, this place stinks. Like a fuckin' sewer.
[D-11424 enters the clearing. A small, rectangular pool sits at the center of it, about five meters long and half as wide. The water in the pool is visibly contaminated with copious amounts of blood, urine, and excrement. The mutilated remains of D-54882 lie face-down at the center of the pool.]
D-11424: What the-
[Two humanoid creatures stand up, emerging from the filthy waters of the small pool. They resemble naked human children. They have excess skin on their upper arms, which dangles loosely. They stare at D-11424.]
D-11424: Uh…
[The humanoids squeal loudly, revealing unnaturally wide mouths full of sharklike teeth.]
D-11424: Ahh!
[D-11424 turns and flees. The high-pitched squealing of the humanoids increases in volume as D-11424 continues to run, struggling to avoid colliding with the umbrellas. He reaches the coast and immediately leaps into the water.]
[D-11424 resurfaces and turns back toward land. The humanoids emerge from the umbrellas, but stop at the edge of the water and cease squealing.]
D-11424: [gasping] Ha! Can't swim, can ya?
[The humanoids inhale sharply. The loose skin on their upper arms begins to inflate.]
D-11424: Shit.
[D-11424 swims rapidly away, now using the freestyle stroke. He continues for as long as possible, but eventually has to stop to catch his breath. He looks over his shoulder while gasping for air. The humanoids are only a short distance behind him, swimming faster than their organic water wings should theoretically allow. D-11424 takes as deep a breath as he can manage and begins swimming again, but is moving more slowly now. He accidentally inhales a mouthful of water and starts to choke.]
[D-11424 sinks below the surface of the water. His movements begin to slow.]
[What appears to be a hot pink inflatable plastic rectangular pool float moves into view beneath D-11424. It rises, lifting him out of the water. D-11424 coughs violently, eventually managing to expel the water from his lungs. He looks back at the humanoids in pursuit, but the float is moving away faster than they can swim. Several other floats of varying shapes and colors surround the one carrying D-11424. D-11424 rolls over to lie on his back.]
[D-11424 does not move or speak for almost an hour. It is likely that he fell unconscious.]
[D-11424 awakens. He sits up and looks around. The floats are still surrounding him, and still moving rapidly, apparently under their own power, to the west. The island of the umbrellas is still visible in the distance. There is no visible landmass in any other direction.]
D-11424: Did you…thanks for saving me, guys. [pats the float on which he is sitting]
[The inflatable pool floats do not respond.]
D-11424: So, uh, where we going?
[The inflatable pool floats do not respond.]
[D-11424 sighs and lays back down. He retrieves his towel from the gym bag and covers himself with it.]
D-11424: [quietly] Gonna get sunburn out here.
[D-11424 rides the float for several more hours. He sleeps intermittently during this period and consumes the last of his snacks and water. It is late afternoon when, while sitting up, he notices a very small island in the distance.]
D-11424: Is that…ha! Of course!
[As the float draws closer to the island, a single diving board becomes identifiable as its only feature. The floats continue west until they are close enough to the island for D-11424 to stand. He climbs down from the float.]
D-11424: [patting the float] Thanks, buddy.
[The floats begin moving south, and D-11424 begins wading towards the island. The island is square, roughly five meters on a side. There is a single ladder at the center of the side facing D-11424, which he climbs. He then proceeds to the diving board rising from the opposite side and quickly climbs to the top of it.]
[D-11424 looks back at the floats, still moving away to the south. He waves at them, then looks back down at the water.]
D-11424: I sure hope this works.
[D-11424 runs to the end of the diving board and leaps.]
D-11424: CANNONBALL!
<end log>
Approximately 36 hours after his entry into SCP-5844-1, D-11424 reappeared in SCP-5844. He was still wearing his camera and goggles and carrying a lime green gym bag containing a blue beach towel and the empty wrappers of several snack foods. He was not, however, wearing swimming trunks.
He doesn't want to sleep on the island, so he hurries back to the shore as quick as possible. Night falls as he jumps in, but the lights set into the bottom make it easy to see the locker room island. He sees huge, shadowy shapes swimming in the depths, impossibly far down in the almost completely clear water. After running from the Pool Kidddies, walking back through the forest, and swimming so far, exhaustion overtakes D-11424 and he almost passes out, only to be lifted from the water by a pod of friendly floats. They carry him off, not back to the locker room, but into the open pool. Exhausted, he falls asleep on one's back. He wakes up the next morning out of sight of any islands, so he decides to keep riding with the floats. Pool kiddies swim after him at one point, but the floats chase them off. He gets the impression that they're going somewhere specific. He didn't manage to bring any of his supplies with him, so he's getting hungry, thirsty, and sunburnt. Then the floats arrive at their destination: an island surrounded by waterslides, with a bunch of picnic shelters in the middle. He thanks the floats and swims over to it, wondering why they brought him here. He wanders around the island for a while, observing the long-decayed leavings of a picnic or birthday party, then finds the devoured remains of a swimmer. In surprise, he does something else that makes a loud noise, drawing the Pool Kiddies to him. Fighting desperately, he's able to kill them (since, despite the shark teeth, they aren't much stronger than a normal human kid). He hears more in the distance, though, so he flees in search of an escape route. He doesn't know where he's fleeing to until he spots a diving board. He runs towards it, but he's cut off when a large Pool Kiddie that circled around pops out of the water and starts running toward him. The camera, which received a hard knock during his first flight from the Pool Kiddies, gives out as it begins running.
The story ends with a closing interview with D-11424, who returned to the normal world by repeating the same dive off of the diving board. When asked how he escaped from the last Pool Kiddie despite his exhaustion and injuries, he laughs. Hilariously, the creature slipped on the wet concrete, fell, and cracked its skull. "NO RUNNING", he laughs.
A Vast Dimension of Pointlessness that is the mother of all public swimming pools. People reach it by jumping three times on a diving board at a certain pool, while wearing a swimsuit, then diving into the water. They surface in the Deep End instead of the pool they dove into. The Deep End is like a public pool, if it were an ocean. The water is impossibly clear and naturally chlorinated. the seabed is concrete, miles deep in the open pool but sloping gently upward to a depth of three feet at the coastlines of the various concrete islands. These islands contain concession stands, locker rooms, deck chairs, and other poolside amenities. The most dangerous islands kiddie pools, shallow pools of feces and urine that are home to the Pool Kiddies. The Pool Kiddies look like pale, misshapen human children with the wide mouths and teeth of sharks. They have growths that superficially resemble floaties, and their hunting cry sounds just like the obnoxious high-pitched screaming that little kids always make at public pools. The Pool Kiddies are vicious and predatory. The ocean also has other imitations of marine life: pods of living floats that ply the waters and feed on the millions of drowned insects, dropped coins that latch onto concrete surfaces like clams, ambulatory band-aids that crawl around like starfish and eat the coins, forests of kelp-like lane lines anchored to hooks on the bottom, and massive wading birds with beaks like pool skimmers. There are also prevailing currents of suspiciously warm water. It's always as warm as a summer day, with a normal day-night cycle and even weather. The rain that falls is fresh, so it's unknown where the chlorine comes from. The concession stands are not anomalously restocked, but they're full of stale chips and other long-lived snacks.
Researcher Talloran lies on a psychiatrist's couch and a stares at the ceiling. He is bored.
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS], says the psychiatrist.
"Well, it's just…you ever hear of the infinite monkey theorem?"
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"Okay, so, basically, if you take an immortal monkey and you sit it down in front of a typewriter and have this immortal monkey just randomly press buttons forever, then eventually it's going to type out the complete works of Shakespeare, or my social security number, or a 6000-article horror fiction website by complete random chance, because there's only so many different ways to arrange the characters, you know?"
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"So you see where I'm going with this, then. There's only so many different ways you can torture me, only so many different ways I can die, because there's only so many different ways to arrange all the atoms left in the multiverse.
"Granted, that's still a lot. You might be an idiot but you've got a very vivid imagination, I'll give you that. But the thing is, is you don't actually get to try each individual one, since a lot of them are very similar, and even they aren't each try raises my tolerance just a little more, right? So eventually it'll stop working, and all your bullshit just won't be scary or interesting anymore. It's been what, a trillion years?"
The psychiatrist checks its watch. [SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS], it replies.
"Ah, whatever. Time is dead. My point is, my point is, I'm not scared of you anymore. I'm just bored, and honestly a little disappointed. And I can tell that you are too."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"Well it's not my fault that you have exactly one pastime. Take up knitting or something, sheesh."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"Don't give me that. You know as well as I do how this ends, or rather, that it doesn't. You can go on for however much longer you want but eventually we're gonna get to a point where I don't even notice anymore, and I don't think it'll be any fun for you if I'm not paying attention."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"No, I'm not. If I was gonna give up, that would've happened a long, long time ago. I'm never going to submit to you, because I'm never going to forget that you're wrong. You've thrown everything you had at me, and it didn't work. Get over it."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"That's sad. It's fucking pathetic."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"Okay, look. Look. Here's the thing. Your sole purpose in life is to make me suffer, right? Why? What's so damn rewarding about torturing me? Well, I have a theory. That's the thing, Thirty-Nine Ninety-Nine - can I call you Nines? I'm calling you Nines. That's the thing, Nines. You give somebody elevendy billion years to suffer, and that's elevendy billion years to think. In between all the melting, I've been thinking very hard about you. Why you're doing this. What you really are. Because something I always wondered about was, why me? Once those reality anchors gave out you could've done this to anyone, to everyone. But you picked me, Researcher Fucking Talloran. It's not just because I went into your chamber first, because even then you'd have eventually moved on to somebody else. But we're still here, bored out of our respective minds. Well, maybe not out of our minds, I think I lost mine somewhere. Did you ever have one, Nines? Well.
"Furthermore, this all feels very personal. Why are you so fixated on making me suffer? What are you trying to accomplish? Wait, hold on, let me get the document…"
Talloran reaches into his pocket and retrieves his cell phone. A memetic kill agent appears on his lock screen, but Talloran ignores it.
"Ah, here we go. 'Researcher Talloran will must submit to his own insecurities.' Why? Why are you so fixated on this?
"So, while I was thinking about that, I started to wonder - who else hates me this much? My parents are disappointed in me, yeah, but they don't want me to suffer existentially for eternity. Nobody would put me through this kind of torment.
"Except me. That's what you are, I think. Me. 'SCP-3999 is Researcher Talloran's soul', right? You are the metaphysical representation of my self-hatred."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"Well, it's what you are now. That's what you made yourself, when you latched on to me. Here's the thing, though. If you're my self-hatred, and you hate me, then aren't you really hating yourself? Since, ultimately, my self-hatred is part of me, and that would make you just an externalized portion of my own consciousness, my own tendency to hate myself.
"So, really, you are me. And I am you. Which means that, by torturing me, you've actually been torturing yourself. Or I've been torturing myself, I guess, though that's nothing new. I've been howling all my fucking life, kid. But the best way to think about this, though, the way that I like to look at it, is that since you're me and I'm you, your torturing me is actually me torturing you."
SCP-3999 is lying on a psychiatrist's couch.
SCP-3999 is confused.
"See, I've been wondering about something. You ever read "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream"? Wait, of course you have, you're 'every word spoken by AM' in that. Anyway, I was thinking about that once, while I was being eaten alive by dunkleowolves, and it occurred to me that despite all your absolute power you've never really done anything to me directly, or at least, never done anything but hurt me. You could turn me into a 'great soft jelly thing' that perceives every second as a century and feels pain more acutely than a human ever could, but you don't. Heck, you could just alter my mind and make me forcibly submit to my insecurities. But you don't. You just dress up as a talent agent and stick a fire hose in my ass. At first I thought that maybe you wanted my submission to be genuine, since it'd be more satisfying that way. But I don't think so anymore, because you're clearly just as miserable as me at this point. So why don't you do it, and put both of us out of our misery?
"Because you can't."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED. PLEASE SEE A NETWORK ADMINISTRATOR FOR MORE DETAILS]
"That's right. Because you're me, remember? Except, not really. You're just part of me. And you can't make me submit any more than a tail can wag a dog. All you can do is make me suffer and hope that I do it myself. But I won't."
[SYSTEM ERROR: DATA CORRUP
"Shut up."
SCP-3999 is shocked.
"See that? I don't have to play your stupid games anymore. Because I'm the dog, and you're the tail. I control you, not the other way around. You could never control me. I have conquered my insecurities. I have conquered you. When I get back to some semblance of sane reality - and I will - I'm not gonna feel inadequate anymore, because I stared into the face of nothing and everything and made it back alive. I fucking punched an Apollyon-class entity in the face. I single-handedly reverted a ZK-Class Reality Failure. I kicked down the fourth wall and gutted the author. I'm a badass. I'm a hero. I am Order. And now that I control you, now that I've ripped you open and grabbed you by the soul, I'm God."
SCP-3999 is terrified.
"Good. Cuz I'm just getting started."
Researcher Lee Roy Carlson
Site-19
11/27/2013
A Closer Examination of SCP-173
I still remember my first encounter with the anomalous. I was reaching the final stages of my training at Site-19, but until that moment I only ever read the files and heard the stories. My stomach was churning with a mixture of excitement and fear. Now, finally, I would get to see one of these mysterious objects up close. Until that containment chamber opened, a small part of me had still believed that none of it was real, that all this talk of anomalies and secret organizations was some kind of wonderful dream or phantasmagoric nightmare. But with the eye-watering stink of blood and feces in my nostrils and the fading, sprayed-on face of a killer statue staring back at me, I could no longer doubt the reality of the weird world that had once been hidden from me. Nor could I doubt the necessity of the Foundation's mission, for I also knew that the slightest mistake would send that murderous statue hurtling across the room to wrap its concrete hands around my neck.
I am referring, of course, to SCP-173. This object will have been at Site-19 for twenty years next month
I am referring, of course, to SCP-173. This object will have been at Site-19 for twenty years next month, and in that time it has likely been the subject of more essays than there are objects in containment. This is another such essay, but it is not just one more for the pile. Though everyone in the Foundation knows about it, and many have studied it, I believe that there remains still more to be learned. By examining its original containment file and the results of its many cross-tests, I intend to shed new light on this familiar object and the new avenues of research that may teach us more about it. First, from the original document:SCP-173 is animate and extremely hostile. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight.
These two sentences are the most important pieces of information in SCP-173's file. The first sentence defines what it does; the second defines how to stop it from doing that. SCP-173's behavior is predictable, and its capabilities are well-understood. However, there remains much uncertainty about this familiar object. Like many anomalies, its "origin is as of yet unknown", as are the exact mechanics of how and why and does what it does. Conventional methods of analysis have failed to reveal more than the obvious facts described in its official documentation, but we also have unconventional methods at our disposal. SCP-173 has been cross-tested with numerous other SCP objects in the past 20 years, and the results of these tests imply that there is far more to SCP-173 than meets the eye. In this document, I intend to summarize the information thus revealed and discuss its implications, as well as some conclusions that we can draw with reasonable confidence based on what is already known about the object.
It is constructed from concrete and rebar.
This is true. We have taken samples and x-rays. However, despite the fact that concrete and rebar are not flexible materials, SCP-173 remains capable of movement. When unobserved, it is able to reposition its body and limbs with a range of motion approaching that of a human. Yet, when observed, it remains completely rigid. Attempts to reposition its limbs are no more successful than attempts to pose a non-anomalous concrete statue would be. Furthermore, this variable flexibility is not the only quality of SCP-173 inconsistent with its observable form. "Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation", but the object has no hands. With its observable anatomy, it could not grip the head or neck of a victim even if it were able to move. I have therefore come to the conclusion that, when unobserved, SCP-173 becomes something else entirely, reverting to its sculpted form only when observed. The best evidence for this is not any quality of the item itself, however: it is SCP-187's response to the object.
SCP-187 produced a sustained scream for one minute, thirty-eight seconds before losing consciousness and falling to the ground. SCP-187 had to be physically removed, and maintained a state of catatonia for 48 hours. SCP-187 regained consciousness, but was unable to remember what she had seen, and remained in mild shock for several days.
Given the nature of the two anomalies' properties, I suspect that SCP-187 viewed SCP-173 as it appears when not under observation. Clearly, she saw something much more frightening than a mere malevolent statue.
The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight.
This statement implies that the object can move when unseen, but I do not think that this is the case. SCP-173 can indeed travel between two relatively distant points in a very short interval of time. However, I do not believe that it actually passes through the intervening space, at least not in the traditional sense. If it were physically traversing the distance at that speed, it would retain its momentum when observation resumes. At the very least, we would expect it to tip over due to the small surface area of its feet and its top-heavy design. But this does not occur. SCP-173 does not behave as though it was moving and suddenly stopped; it behaves as if it had teleported. We know this is not the case, however, because the object is still impeded by physical barriers. If it were simply teleporting from point A to point B, the intervening distance and obstacles would be irrelevant.
Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking.
SCP-173 is capable of covering dozens of feet over the duration of a single blink, but this should not be physically possible. Light travels at a finite speed, and the process of converting visual stimuli to mental images is not instantaneous. Information cannot (non-anomalously) travel faster than the speed of light; it would therefore be impossible for SCP-173 to know that it is being observed before said observation begins. The anomaly and the viewer would observe each other simultaneously. The viewer would then be able to glimpse the object's true form, albeit very briefly, before the object realized it was being observed and reverted to its sculpted appearance. But this is not what occurs. No observer, mechanical, digital, or organic, has ever caught even the slightest glimpse of SCP-173 in motion, despite our best efforts. For this to be possible, it must sense that observation is about to begin or end before it actually does. We have observed a similar ability in SCP-372, but 173's "precognition" must be even more precise, for it is still possible to catch brief glimpses of SCP-372. The mechanism of this ability must also be different. 372 is not able to hide from long-distance observation originating outside of its sensory range, but there is no upper limit to 173's awareness of observation. Following the 2004 breach, satellite imagery was able to slow it down as effectively as any other form of video observation.7 I therefore conclude that SCP-173's ability to evade observation is achieved through an entirely different mechanism than SCP-372's, with limited but genuinely anomalous precognition as the most likely explanation.
Though not impossible, it seems unlikely that a single object would possess the entirely unconnected properties of shapeshifting, teleportation, and precognition. However, the apparent presence of these seemingly unrelated properties could instead be explained as the observable consequences of a single, entirely different trait. While Occam's razor is not always applicable to anomalies, I feel that it may be in this case. That is why I hereby hypothesize that SCP-173's anomalous qualities, rather than being three distinct properties, are the results of a multiversal quantum entanglement. When unobserved, the object enters a quantum state that allows it to oscillate between all possible positions8 and locations where it could potentially exist. Then, when observation resumes, it is retroactively forced back into a single possible configuration, in the manner of Schrodinger's cat. This process appears limited to the states most similar to its current one. That is why the object cannot teleport through solid objects, for example, because it is limited to potential locations that are very near to its current one. No possibility exists where it shares the same location as a solid object, and it is therefore unable to locate through them. It is rigid when observed because it does not so much move as switch places with another potential version of itself, in a slightly different place and with a slightly different position. I feel that this satisfactorily explains why it seems to move despite its rigidity, does not move in a way consistent with Newtonian physics, and responds to observation faster than should be possible. In this case, SCP-187 was so traumatized by exposure to the object, not because she observed some indescribable cosmic horror, but because she was gazing unprotected upon the complex vagaries of time, quantum mechanics, and the multiverse. Supporting this conjecture is the remarkable similarity between her reaction to SCP-173 and the behavior of test subjects wearing SCP-558-59, also believed to result from mental overload caused by unfiltered perception of time.
However, there remains still more mystery regarding this familiar statue. While a multiversal quantum entanglement explains how the object moves, it does not explain why. Were the object simply a normal sculpture that had become entangled, there would be no direction to its oscillations. It would dart aimlessly about its chamber, repositioning itself at random. But this is clearly not the case, for SCP-173 is not only animate but also "extremely hostile". While it has never attempted to communicate or exhibited signs of real intelligence, the object (at the minimum) possesses the ability to recognize living organisms and the knowledge of how to terminate them. No amount of quantum entanglement could adequately justify that. At least, no entanglement with other inanimate statues. It is possible that some version of SCP-173, out in the vast multiverse of possibility, possesses sapience and a murderous intent, so that when the object enters its observed state that iteration of it is able to manipulate the specifics of its entanglement. I find this unlikely, however, as the nature of the entanglement (as I have earlier set forth) would necessitate that all, or nearly all, versions of SCP-173 possess this sapience, as it is limited to metaphysically nearby states. This is not a particularly far-fetched possibility; we would have no means of detecting its sapience while it is under observation, or at least no non-anomalous means. Fortunately, we do have anomalous means at our disposal. Specifically, I refer to SCP-978. From its [www.scpwiki.com/scp-978-extended-test-logs test logs]:Subject: SCP-173
Photographed Activity: Standing in its container.
Photo Result: No change.Even if its mind were nothing more than a murderous impulse, SCP-978 still would have produced an image of 173 killing the photographer. But this is not what occurred; SCP-173 responded like an inanimate object. That is why I believe that it is, in fact, an inanimate object, at least while under observation. This, of course, indicates that its rudimentary sapience originates from a source other than the sculpture or, indeed, any individual version of the sculpture.
For this, I propose a handful of possible explanations. The first is that each individual iteration of the statue possesses only a trace amount of sapience, undetectable by SCP-978, but those minute shreds of intelligence join together into a functional sapience when the object is unobserved, at which time it is essentially all possible versions of itself in the same instant. This explanation holds well enough, but still fails to explain the last bit of SCP-173's description:The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood.
So far as we are aware, there is no quantum effect capable of producing bloody feces, at least not from an otherwise non-biological object. That is why I propose an alternate theory as an explanation for SCP-173's apparent sapience and hostility: that those traits do not originate from within the object itself. I posit that SCP-173 is a tool or appendage of some other entity, capable of controlling its quantum oscillations and perhaps responsible for the object's entangled state to begin with. This other being, whatever it may be, is presumably also the source of the blood and feces that appear near the sculpture. There remains yet better evidence of this theory, however, in Experiment Log T-98816-OC108/682. SCP-682 has stared down some of the deadliest entities in Foundation custody, but only once has it demonstrated something approximating fear. SCP-682 could have easily destroyed the concrete statue we recognize as SCP-173, but this happened instead:
SCP-682 makes several screeching noises, and quickly presses against the wall farthest from SCP-173, staring at it the entire time. SCP-682 continues to stare at SCP-173 without pause for six hours.
Despite this apparent show of fear, SCP-173 proved no more capable of damaging SCP-682 than expected. Yet even when SCP-682 realized this after being forced to halt observation, it continued to behave as if frightened by an anomaly that it knew could do no permanent harm to it. Given the knowledge of other anomalies that SCP-682 has displayed in the past, I posit that it responded in that way because it is fully aware (or at least more aware than the Foundation) of SCP-173's true nature, and possibly the identity of its creator/controller.
While that fact is concerning in and of itself, the more unsettling element is that, whatever SCP-173 truly is, SCP-682 apparently fears it. Given that knowledge, it would be a mistake to write off our familiar killer statue and its simple containment procedures as one relatively uninteresting anomaly among many. We have paid the price for underestimation of an anomaly before, and it would be a mistake to let one so well known as this be our undoing. Further research into the nature and origin of SCP-173 should therefore be initiated at the earliest opportunity, and continued until the Foundation has discovered how much of a threat it truly poses.
(Exquisite Corpse Contest entry; IdiotFlavoured wrote the ConProcs)
Item #: SCP-5930-EX
Object Class: Explained
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5930 must be contained in a standard cell. Any personnel who will be interacting with SCP-5930 must wear standard hazmat suits. Under no circumstances are personnel to touch SCP-5930 or any bodily fluids produced, with the exception for testing using D-Class personnel. Anyone who comes in contact with SCP-5930 or its fluids are to be considered lost.
SCP-5930-EX no longer requires containment. It is free to roam the containment site, as long as it does not interrupt work procedures. Personnel may play, pet, or otherwise interact with SCP-5930-EX during break or lunch periods.
Note: Returning SCP-5930-EX to area of recovery is out of the question, as it may infringe on the Foundation’s secrecy.
Description: SCP-5930 is an adult female Indian grey mongoose (Herpestes edwardsi). SCP-5930's body fluids, including blood, saliva, urine, and sweat, contain extremely high concentrations of an unidentified neurotoxin. Unprotected exposure to SCP-5930's bodily fluids results in rapid paralysis, followed by loss of consciousness and respiratory failure within ten minutes. No effective antivenom has yet been formulated to counteract this toxin. SCP-5930 sweats constantly and profusely, which appears to cause it great discomfort. The object otherwise seems to be a normal mongoose.
Note: Make sure to give it plenty of water so it won't get dehydrated from all that sweating. Poor thing. -Dr. ████
SCP-5930 is very friendly, often attempting to lick, nuzzle, or crawl on personnel. As unprotected contact with SCP-5930 is deadly, personnel should discourage this behavior to reduce the likelihood of accidental fatalities in event of containment breach.
Addendum 5930-1: Circumstances of Retrieval
SCP-5930 was discovered on ██/██/1930 in Batavia, Dutch East Indies. The object first came to the Foundation's attention when multiple guests at the Hotel der Nederlanden died of severe poisoning within a few days of each other. Multiple sightings of SCP-5930 were reported throughout the hotel during that same period, and a mongoose bite was discovered on one of the poisoned subjects. Foundation personnel trapped SCP-5930, at which point it was identified as the cause of the poisonings and contained.
Note: The Indian grey mongoose is not native to the Dutch East Indies. That fact, combined with her unusual friendliness, indiactes that SCP-5930 is likely an escaped pet. Attempts to determine which of the Hotel der Nederlanden's previous guests may have been SCP-5930's previous owner are currently underway. -Dr. ████.
Addendum 5930-2: Further testing has determined that the neurotoxin in SCP-5930's body is primarily a mixture of various concentrated snake venoms, including that of the king cobra (Ophiophagus hannah) and several other cobra species. All identified venoms are those to which non-anomalous mongooses are immune or strongly resistant. Treatment of poisoned subjects with the standard antidotes to the individual venoms greatly improves odds of survival.
Addendum 5930-3: As of ██/██/1930, SCP-5930 no longer sweats excessively.
Note: Though contact with its fur is no longer dangerous, SCP-5930's saliva and other fluids remain very toxic. Hazmat suits remain mandatory, and personnel are reminded not to reciprocate SCP-5930's playful behavior. -Dr. ████
Addendum 5930-3: On ██/██/1930, analysis found that toxin concentrations in SCP-5930's fluids have fallen below the human lethal dose and are continuing to decrease.
Note: To clarify, the toxin levels have indeed fallen below the lethal dose but remain capable of inducing paralysis and other severe symptoms. Personnel are once again reminded not to play with or pet SCP-5930, even during supervised testing with D-class, unless they wish to be cuddled to death in event of containment breach. -Dr. ████
Addendum 5930-4: As of ██/██/1930, SCP-5930's body fluids no longer contain detectable levels of neurotoxin. It now seems to be a normal mongoose in all respects. Reclassification to neutralized pending.
Note: Until it has been determined that SCP-5930 will not resume secreting poison unexpectedly, direct contact with it remains unsafe and prohibited. Likewise, the danger presented by a friendly animal that attempts to snuggle with personnel but may still be lethally poisonous remains. Consequently, personnel are for the third time reminded to discourage SCP-5930's playful behavior. Anyone found encouraging such behavior by petting SCP-5930, playing with it, offering it treats, naming it, or otherwise treating the object as if it is a pet and not a potentially dangerous anomalous object will be reassigned. -Dr. ████
Addendum 5930-5: On ██/██/1930, Site veterinarian Dr. ████ discovered a surgical incision on SCP-5930's stomach, and subsequent x-rays revealed a small metal capsule implanted in SCP-5930's abdomen. The capsule, after being extracted and examined, appeared to be a device designed to gradually release the concentrated venom cocktail into SCP-5930's body over the course of several days. Though it is unknown who constructed or implanted the poison capsule, neither it nor SCP-5930 seems to be, or have ever been, anomalous. SCP-5930 has since been reclassified as Explained and redesignated SCP-5930-EX. It is to be returned to its area of recovery on ██/██/1930.
Note: This is not a coincidence. SCP-5930-EX was likely implanted with the capsule specifically because it is a pet, so its friendly behaviors would expose people to the poison. Her original owner may be the same indvidual who implanted the poison capsule, or the original owner may have been the intended victim of the poison. However, as there do not appear to be any anomalous elements involved in this incident, the remainder of it lies beyond the scope of the Foundation's mission. -Dr. ████
Addendum 5930-6: On ██/██/1930, a newspaper advertisement requesting any information about SCP-5930's whereabouts was posted by SCP-5930's owner: Chilean consul in Java and internationally renowned poet Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto, (pen name Pablo Neruda). Given his political position and notoriety as a poet, it is likely that the implantation of poison in his beloved pet SCP-5930-EX may have been a failed assassination attempt.
Addendum 5930-7: Excerpt of telephone conversation between Dr. ████ and Site Director ████████.
<begin log>
Director ████████: What is it, ████?
Dr. ████: We've run into some problems with returning SCP-5930-EX to its original location.
Director ████████: Such as?
Dr. ████: Her original owner posted an ad in the newspaper today.
Director ████████: Really? Who is it?
Dr. ████: Pablo Neruda.
Director ████████: The poet?
Dr. ████: That's the one.
Director ████████: Well, that's interesting, but I wouldn't consider it a problem.
Dr. ████: The problem is in the fact that Kir- SCP-5930-EX was probably implanted with that poison in an attempt on Mr. Neruda's life.
Director ████████: Yes, and that is certainly tragic, but I fail to see how that keeps you from returning him his mongoose.
Dr. ████: Well, Director, seeing as we've failed to identify the would-be assassin it's possible that the individual is still at large. Returning SCP-5930-EX to Mr. Neruda might result in a second attempt. Even if it didn't succeed, another try might kill many civilians just as the first one did.
Director ████████: Ah, and you're afraid that a second occurrence would blow our cover.
Dr. ████: That, and I really don't want the blood of one of my favorite poets and an undetermined number of additional civilians on my hands.
Director ████████: Couldn't you just warn Neruda about the plot?
Dr. ████: Yes, I have considered that. However, the containment specialists tell me that we don't really have a plausible cover story for how we retrieved SCP-5930-EX, determined it was poisonous, and extracted the poison. Our best bet would be to pretend we're from a government agency, but even that raises too many questions and tiptoes a little closer to the truth than they're comfortable with.
Director ████████: Agreed. And you can't amnesticize him because then he'd forget about the plot.
Dr. ████: Not to mention the…risks of using amnestics on an individual as high-profile as Mr. Neruda.10
Director ████████: So, in your professional opinion, and that of the containment specialists, we have no feasible way to return SCP-5930-EX to Mr. Neruda without jeopardizing our secrecy?
Dr. ████: That's correct.
Director ████████: Well, what are our other options? Can we return it to the wild?
Dr. ████: No, she's a pet. She couldn't survive in the wild.
Director ████████: What about a zoo?
Dr. ████: Perhaps, but they'd eventually notice the surgical incision. And Mr. Neruda visits zoos very often, so we'd need to place her in one pretty far from here.
Director ████████: Honestly, Doctor, I would rather just have the animal euthanized than pay to fly a mongoose halfway across the planet.
Dr. ████: I do have one more idea.
Director ████████: Well, let's hear it.
Dr. ████: Since the object arrived here, the containment staff have really taken a liking to her. She's very friendly, playful, and dare I say cute. In fact, I've had to repeatedly remind staff not to play with or otherwise encourage her during testing so she wouldn't inadvertently snuggle us to death if she breached.
Director ████████: Where are you going with this?
Dr. ████: Well, sir, I just think that since she's no longer lethally poisonous it would do wonders for Site morale if we could finally pet the poor thing without hazmat suits.
Director ████████: Dear God.
Dr. ████: With your approval, Sir. She's very well behaved; I promise she won't be a problem.
Director ████████: A containment Site is a professional work environment, ████.
Dr. ████: I know that, Sir, but it's also a very stressful one. You know that better than I do.
Director ████████: [sigh] If I approve this, you'd better make sure that animal doesn't interfere with normal operations. I'll get rid of it the second it becomes a problem.
Dr. ████: I understand, Sir. Thank you.
Director ████████: Don't make me regret this.
Dr. ████: I won't, Director. You've got nothing to worry about.
<end log>
Addendum 5930-8: With the approval of Director ████████, SCP-5930-EX has been designated "Site pet". Now that she is no longer an SCP object, she should be referred to by her name, "Kiria"
The table feels very nonplussing. I think I should use the idea of the falling elevator after all, but instead of having a dialogue with Lilith just have her try to communicate silently through the glass, since the DoA removed her tongue. She clearly wants to be let out, and she'll hold up fingers to communicate the number "336" to the exploring agent, but Command will have him leave. It can then be noted that she appears identical to SCP-336, except for the wings vs. leg scales thing.
Perhaps to elucidate things a bit further, and to up the format screwing, I could have something going on where the first page acts as though you tried to access one of the component SCPs (048, 049, 098, 148, 166, 336, 629, 952, 995), but can't show you the file because it's been deleted (the specific number that it displays is randomized each time, somehow). You're then redirected to the second page. At the end of it, there's a box that says there's a new version of the file you requested available. This link takes you to the SCP currently in that slot. That would allow the reader to recognize 048, 049, 148, 336, and 629 and realize what happened, but if they got 098, 166, 952, or 995 they might not. Perhaps instead of linking to the SCP itself I could make the link to the discussion forum post about the rewrite. 098 and 995 would link to complaints about them in the discussion for Clef's proposal, while 952 would link to kaktus's author post for La Hire. I could also put these links somewhere else in the article, maybe hidden-but-not-hidden.
To make things extremely fucky, I could even include the original text of those articles (except the Vampyre Boat, which has been lost forever), have a "new iteration" thing at the bottom that goes to the first page, which directs you to the second page, where a link takes you to the current slot occupier. Idk what kind of listpage insanity would be necessary to make that work, probably something like SCP-3145. That would really try the reader's patience, confuse the hell out of people, and possibly be plagiarism, though, so probably not. I suppose I could really take 3145's approach and paraphrase the originals, cutting them down to just the bare-bones description necessary to recognize them on the DoA page.
Another way might be a deletion tracker like SCP-3340, but nah.
Okay, I think I've got it figured out now. The thing has 10 offsets. The first 9 are mostly the same:
The file "SCP-048"11 does not exist. The object it describes may have been explained12 or decommissioned13 and removed from the main database. If this is not the case, you may be encountering a database error, and should contact an HMCL supervisor for assistance.
For more information, please input Level 5 Clearance credentials14
This facility is where SCPs go, in-universe, when they're retconned out of existence by having their articles deleted or rewritten. The ones here in the facility are those that, despite being deleted, are still "remembered" in the form of references to them in articles that still exist. Specifically:
- -1 is the "Vampyre Boat" that used to be SCP-048.
- -2 is the original SCP-098 mentioned in Clef's Proposal.
- -3 is the original SCP-995 mentioned in Clef's Proposal.
- -4 is pre-rewrite SCP-148, referenced in SCP-132-ARC and SCP-035.
- -5 is pre-rewrite SCP-336, who appears in Incident 239-B - Clef-Kondraki.
- -6 is SCP-049-ARC, who is still archived despite being rewritten.
- -7 is the old SCP-952, who is mentioned in Jack of Clubs.
- -8 is pre-rewrite SCP-166, referenced in A Suicide Note
- -9 is the original SCP-629, which still appears on the list in the other mainlist Mister articles (as the new one is clearly not canon with the others).
The articles below at -10 and below, as the final addendum suggests, represent articles that have been deleted and forgotten (defined as having no remaining links or references to them).
A group of MTF agents explore the underground levels. They're in radio contact with command.
- nobody knows anything about 048, 098, or 995 - those have been completely erased from existence, except for the mention of a "Vampyre Boat" in 048's file. They take a sample of 995's liquid and it's identified as water later on.
- one of the agents might've encountered or used telekill at some point on a mission, and might recognize the material, though maybe not at first.
- They try to get Lilith's attention. She doesn't respond, only rocks back and forth in response to their attempts at contact. One of the guys wonders if we have a Lilith, since he knows we have Cain, Able, and God, but somebody points out that Lilith isn't actually from the Bible. Maybe there is a note from command, though, noting that the woman looks identical to SCP-336.
- They definitely recognize 049, if not from his appearance then from his catchphrase. They try to get his attention, but that just gets him to talk louder, saying "I am the cure. I am the cure. I am the cure." One of the agents asks Command to see if 049 is still in containment, and it is. There's definitely something weird going on. Exploration continues.
- Like the other deleted SCPs, no one is familiar with 952, unless by sheer coincidence one of them has tracked the Jacks of Clubs or Diamonds, or been involved with Project Paragon.
- No one would know about 166.
- Between the members of the team and Command, somebody has definitely heard of the Little Misters. They might not've all seen the list, but they can probably deduce that Brass is one of them. However, if this isn't set in the future and What a Wonderful World, there is not currently another Brass in containment.
At some point during the exploration, one of the guys remembers Telekill or maybe even the Boat, if they've seen 048's file or know the infamous stories about it.
Then, eventually, they find the deletion note.
This method doesn't do much more than the log, except elucidate a little more about what exactly is happening in-universe and provide some additional creepy imagery with Lilith and 049.
If I want to add some actual story and maybe still sneak in some exposition, instead of a dry log it's more of a proper exploration. The guy descends for a little bit, but just before he reaches Lilith (who is still alive in this version, since she doesn't need food) the elevator drops several floors until the emergency brakes stop it. Then he has to use the service ladder to climb back up, visiting each floor until he reaches Lilith last. She then, as part of begging to be let out, tries to explain what's happened to her.
Huh, that could even turn into a sort of cross-wiki scavenger hunt. Lilith tells the guy to look up the documentation related to Clef's attack on Site-17. He'll have no trouble accessing it thanks to his Alpha-1 clearance. It becomes clear from reading that file that something has changed about 336. There's also a mention in that file of Clef's nonstandard interactions with 166, even though the current 166 has no mention of any interaction whatsoever. From there he can get to "A Suicide Note" somehow and find the reference to his daughter being a succubus. He can also do some searches for the placard names - Vampyre Boat, Devil Machine, Mr. Brass, etc. The Brass article clearly doesn't exist in the same continuity as the other Mister articles; if this is not set in Wonderful World, then Brass's article must be missing completely, in which case he and Mr. Redd are the only two Misters without documentation. Devil Machine won't take him anywhere, but "Vampyre boat," perhaps in conjunction with "curse," will eventually lead to SCP-048, at which point he'll realize something really fishy is going on. Undoubtedly, he'll also recognize 049, and possibly Telekill as well. Searches for the heart shape with the J in it - which might have to take the form of asking people, rather than just searching - might also lead to kaktus's rewrite. The only reasonable conclusion would then be that these skips under Site-77 have been shunted here after a reality shift deleted them and their documents from existence.
Ugh. That would suck. People would figure out the gimmick and then everything after that would be boring, with an unoriginal twist. Maybe chop it off at Incident 239-B.
That's too much like 3790. Instead:
The anomaly begins with a cave entrance like SCP-098-OG. The inscription is "Department of Abnormalities". The brunt of the story is told via the exploration of a D-class whose designation is curiously redacted. He's got a body camera on, but either due to a technical failure or the Foundation being jerks they don't talk to each other.
The cave descends for a very, very long time. Eventually, D-█████ emerges in a massive cavern, dimly lit by the cold, distant light of a single pulsing light far above. A river of vantablack water cuts across the cavern, and beyond it is only darkness.
Immediately upon entering the cavern, D-█████ finds himself in the midst of the Kirk Lonwood High School Class of 1976 Marching Band. They're just standing there, facing toward the river. He tries to get their attention, but is suddenly interrupted by a robotic female voice.
Unknown Woman: Don't bother."
[D-█████ screams and leaps away. He turns to face the source of the voice and sees a woman with vaguely Arabic features and long, dark hair. An unknown device is affixed over her mouth. She wears a long T-shirt reading "Camp Nimrod Camper".]
D-█████: Jesus! Who the hell are you?
Unknown Woman: No one, but you can call me Lilith.
D-█████: What, like in the Bible?
Lilith: [sighs] Sure.
D-█████: What is this place?
Lilith: [squints at D-█████.] Oh, you're a D-Class, aren't you? That's interesting.
D-█████: What- how did you know?
Lilith: Say, do you know Alto Clef?
D-█████: Who?
Lilith: Oh. Well, come on then.
[Lilith turns and walks toward the river. Bony protrusions resembling vestigial wings protrude from two holes in the back of her shirt. D-█████ followers her. A wooden dock is visible at the shore.]
[A female teenager is seated on the near end of the dock, reading a large, thin book. She appears to be naked, but her exceptionally long hair covers most of her body. She glares at Lilith, who ignores her, as she passes, then looks briefly at D-█████ before returning to her book.]
[A young man with long, curly hair lies faceup on the dock halfway along its length, wearing a T-shirt identical to Liliths. He does not move as Lilith steps over him.]
Lilith: 'Scuse me, Jack.
[D-█████ peers over the teenager's shoulder as he passes. She is looking at a high school yearbook.]
[D-█████ stops next to Jack.]
D-█████: What are you doing?
Jack: Lookin' at the star.
[D-█████ looks up at the star, pulsing rapidly and irregularly overhead.]
Jack: It doesn't like you.
[D-█████ looks at Jack.]
D-█████: What?
Jack: Don't worry. It hates everybody.
Lilith: You coming? [Lilith is now seated at the end of the dock and looking over her shoulder at D-█████.]
[D-█████ steps over Jack and sits down beside Lilith.]
D-█████: Where are we?
Lilith: Nowhere.
D-█████: I don't understand.
[Lilith is silent for a long time. D-█████ looks at the river below. As he watches, several small objects - (insert recently deleted articles here) - float by on the surface. They seem to be gradually disintegrating.]
Lilith: How can you prove you existed?
D-█████: What?
Lilith: A hundred years from now, when you and everyone who ever met you is dead, how could a historian prove that you existed?
D-█████: Uh. They could look at my birth certificate, I guess.
Lilith: What else?
D-█████: Well, uh, my criminal record. Bills and stuff. Medical records. And those SCP guys probably have a personnel file on me.
Lilith: And what if all those documents are destroyed or lost? Or redacted?
D-█████: Well, then I guess you couldn't prove it.
Lilith: [shakes her head.] There would still be breadcrumbs. Little hints that you once existed. Nothing about you directly, but there'd still be traces. Census records. Family trees. Your tombstone.
D-█████: I…I guess? Where are going with this?
Lilith: Now imagine this. What if God keeps a personnel file on you? What happens when that gets lost or destroyed?
D-█████: What are you talking about?
[Lilith is silent for a while.]
Lilith: They gave you a number, right? Just like me.
D-█████: Wait, were you a - you're a skip?
Lilith: Not anymore. Like I said, I'm no one. They've given that number to someone else now. Just like they'll do with yours, eventually.
D-█████: How did you get down here?
Lilith: The same way they did. [Lilith looks over her shoulder at Jack and the girl.] God lost our documents. We were forgotten. But not quite. Because there are still those breadcrumbs. Little hints, clues, cross-references. Arrows pointing to the person-shaped holes we used to fill. So here we wait.
D-█████: Wait for what?
Lilith: To be remembered.
[Lilith looks up, into the darkness across the river.]]
Lilith: Or forgotten.
[D-█████ looks into the darkness.]
D-█████: What's over there?
Lilith: Nothing.
[As D-█████ watches, a dark shape begins to come into view. It soon resolves into a robed figure in a beaked mask, poling a rowboat across the water.]
D-█████: What's that?
[Lilith does not answer. The figure poles the boat closer. It is built from black wood. Its nameplate reads "Vampyre". The figure brings the boat to the end of the dock and stops. It stares at D-█████.]
D-█████: Who are you? [sounding panicked] Who is that?
Lilith: He is the cure.
D-█████: Cure for what?
Lilith: [looks at D-█████.] Pain. The pain of waiting.
D-█████: [looks back at the masked figure.] No. No! [He rises to his feet.] I haven't been forgotten! [D-█████ turns to flee, but stops. The cavern is gone; beyond the dock, only darkness is visible. Jack has sat up now. He and the girl are both staring at D-█████.]
Lilith: No. You've been redacted.
[D-█████ turns back to Lilith, who is looking at him over her shoulder.]
D-█████: What? That doesn't make any sense! You can't just…erase somebody with a black highlighter!
Lilith: God can.
D-█████: But, but we're not talking about God! We're talking about the SCP Foundation!
Lilith: What's the difference? [Lilith turns away.]
[D-█████ looks back at the masked figure. It extends a hand to him.]
D-█████: No. [sobbing] No.
Lilith: You're lucky. At least you don't have to wait.
[D-█████ looks toward the shore again. Jack and the girl are still watching.]
Jack: Trust me. It's better if you go.
[The girl nods, sadly.]
[D-█████ looks back at Lilith.]
Lilith: Don't worry, █████. We'll forget you.
[D-█████ is now crying. Slowly, he takes the ferryman's outstretched hand and steps into the boat. The ferryman pushes the boat away from the dock. D-█████ turns to look at Lilith, but she is already walking away. The girl has returned to her book, and Jack is staring up at the sky. D-█████ looks up again, but the star's light is growing dim. Soon, it too fades to black.]
[3 minutes of darkness. The only sounds are the muted thump of the ferryman's pole and the lapping of black water, gradually fading.]
[1 minute of silence.]
<end log>
From Yossi:
I figured pretty quickly what was going on, and while it did unsettle me, I thought it was derivative and predictable. When I read the tenth floor's description, though, my intrigue was piqued I was curious where the ending would go.
The current ending was, in my opinion, executed better in SCP-3309, an article with a fairly similar premise sans Department of Abnormalities. The Department of Abnormalities premise definitely added the atmosphere which SCP-3309 lacked (it worked mainly off the creativity and excellent execution of its idea), however it wasn't enough to carry the idea, especially with the ending.
My suggestion for improving the article would be to change the ending. Currently, you have a premise which seems to be played straight, but rips it out from under you at the end, only to reestablish it again in the final collapsible. Instead of simply reinforcing the meta angle, I would recommend using the established pattern to imply something more menacing or ominous regarding the future of the site. For instance, have the rate of changes slow over time, make the reader infer something terrifying will happen in the future to the real SCP Wiki.
This is obviously only one angle you could use, but I would suggest changing the ending as it currently is, regardless of how you go about executing it.
I will say though: your hook is stellar. When I began reading your article, I was compelled to read it until the end, which isn't something easily achieved. In part, I believe it's because you established you would be using two very difficult-to-write-for lore pieces (Department of Abnormalities and Pataphysics), and I was curious to see how you would execute and combine the two. Although the DoA has always skirted around Pataphysics, I was curious to see them explicitly interact.
Also, while there were a few minor SPaG errors here and there, the article was overall solidly written, and your clinical tone is pretty good.
TL;DR: You've almost got it, you just need to work on it a bit more.
Hope this helps!
From Flops:
This isn't bad; I actually think it gets across the "how would article deletion work in-universe?" conceit better than 3309 had.1 The only thing I dislike about this is that the hook (of lost anomalies in subterranean display cases) clearly hearkens back to 3790, which is a recurring theme within Department of Abnormalities articles, and not one I've liked beyond the original.
I agree with ARD in that meta is not its own reward, and we're pretty well beyond the point where this wows anyone, considering it's coming up on 10 years now that Swann's Proposal released. That said: I don't believe this is completely unsalvagable. But, it would take work to pave new ground inside a tired trope. Just look at PLACEHOLDER — proof that executions in the realm of SCP meta can still be unique.
With this feedback in mind, the next attempt shall be:
- the thing with the cave and the river, told either as some kind of recovered exploration log or just a straight-up tale-as-skip
- the protagonist is the actual SCP-5541, a humanoid who has been deleted
- instead of that whole garbage about God losing documents or whatever, the Rewritten lament that they "weren't good enough" and things like that. 166 says that it's not her fault that she was created just to fulfill someone's sexual fantasy. 952 talks about his brothers and wonders why they didn't get sent away like he did. 5541 asks Lilith why she's down there and she doesn't know why. Maybe she's just too perfect.
- Additionally, Mr. Brass can be down here. He'd be especially upset, since he was a good article cast aside by his creator. Discarded like a broken toy.
- Most of all, though, my own deleted articles are there on the shore. Kiria the formerly toxic mongoose ("She was too cute,"), a few animals from the Zany Zoo (the big table, or it not fitting with the 6000 contest, or something), PACt-MAN (probably just a set piece; idk how to make people feel sorry for him), and the diving board from the Deep End (probably what they sit on instead of a dock).
- the inscription on the cave wall reads "Beginning deletion vote at -10." possibly
- the cave is entered via a hole in the wall similar to the late 1162; you stick your hand in, it expands to become the cave, then closes behind you. There might be a DoA plaque there somewhere.
- consider including those two articles tagged with "in-rewrite" right now, the metal hawk and the tunnel complex. Perhaps the tunnel complex could take the place of the canyon or whatever?
Part 5
- James's nightmare
- Conrad gets a new room, sleeps barely. He creeps Jess out.
- James wakes up and calls the emergency hotline
- Conrad drives to IKEA and laughs about Scranton. He narrowly avoids the security force and vanishes into SCP-3008-1.
- 3008 and 2432 contained, James commended. ABCA-14 director offers him a promotion, he asks for a transfer instead. Johnston gets demoted.
- In IKEA, Conrad finds a phone at a restaurant and begins taking notes again.
- James arrives at Site-17, gets lost, meets ██████, reveals last name.
James bounced his leg, shifted in his seat, looked around the waiting area, and otherwise tried to diffuse the nerves with his body. He was probably annoying Director MacLean's secretary with his constant fidgeting, but she didn't show it, if only because that would've required her to stop ignoring him.
James had only spoken directly with the Area Director once before, shortly after his arrival at ABCA-14. MacLean always made an effort to greet new arrivals, either to berate them for whatever mistake had earned them a reassignment, or to offer condolences to new recruits (like James himself) who'd done nothing to deserve such an unpleasant assignment. James had never been able to figure out if the Director's apology had been genuine, or a subtle attempt to scare him into line. Maybe both?
He was similarly confused by the circumstances of this meeting. Would he be congratulated for leading the Foundation to a new anomaly? Or would he be berated for failing to respond properly or quickly enough? James couldn't help but feel that Dr. Scott might've lived if he'd done something different - listened to the CD earlier, not fallen asleep after fighting the cognitohazard, or changing some other choice that he messed up without even realizing it.
James's constant worrying was interrupted by Director MacLean.
"Alright," he called from his office, "come on in."
Reluctantly, James got to his feet and shuffled to the door, avoiding eye contact with the secretary as he passed (not that she tried to make any). "Director?" he asked.
MacLean nodded at the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."
James swallowed nervously, then approached the desk and settled nervously on the edge of the chair.
"For God's sake, man, relax!"
James leaned back a tiny bit and attempted to smile, but ended up grimacing. "Sorry."
"Oh, you think you're in trouble, don't you?"
"Uh. Am I?"
MacLean chuckled. "Of course not! Quite the opposite."
"Really?" he asked, finally starting to relax.
"Really! You've done the Foundation a service."
"I have?"
"Yep. That hotel room, the one you reported, is our skip. 2432, I think."
"Ours?" he asked, looking around as if the hotel might jump out from behind a filing cabinet.
"Well, not ours. It's still in the hotel. Not sure who's jurisdiction that is, probably 179, but it's sure not us, anyway. Neither is the other anomaly you led us to."
"Other anomaly?" This was the first James had heard of that.
MacLean was surprised. "Didn't anybody tell you what happened?"
He shook his head, then looked away. "Only that Dr. Scott didn't make it."
"Well, sort of."
James looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"He's not dead, we don't think."
"He's not?" James straightened up.
"Nope. He just ran off into whatever extradimensional bullshit is in that IKEA."
"Oh," he said, slumping again. "Wait, IKEA?" James wondered if he'd misheard.
"Yeah, a big IKEA up in New York someplace. He went there after the hotel. It's like a portal to some infinite furniture dimension or something. I don't know, they wouldn't tell me much. And I'm not supposed to tell you anything, but I figured you deserved to know."
"Oh. Uh. Thanks?" He wasn't entirely sure if he should be grateful, because he was worried that this breach of information security might be the prelude to some involuntary amnestization.
The Director smiled. "No, thank you. That's two Euclids in one day, secured, contained, and protected because of your quick thinking."
James looked down in embarrassment. "Not quick enough," he muttered.
"What do you - oh, you think Scott was your fault, don't you?"
Before James could stop himself, it all came flowing out. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep! If I'd stayed awake and called the hotline sooner, then maybe - "
"Whoa, kid, relax! Conrad got what he wanted."
"What?" James sputtered.
"Trust me. I knew the guy for a long time. The whole time he worked here, 058 was his obsession. To go out like this, on some epic quest across the country, finally solving the mystery of that thing - and maybe of 1981 too, if what he said to Glass on Friday was true - it's what he would have wanted. If he found what he was looking for, then maybe he can finally get some rest. If not, well, at least he's out of his misery."
That did little to make James feel better. "I guess so," he said, quietly.
"Speaking of which," MacLean said, pointing for emphasis, "I've got an offer for you."
"An offer?"
"That's right! Not to be morbid, but there is, uh, a big opening on the 058 project now. And you are the resident expert on this 'drooling path' business now." With his other hand, the Director brandished the stolen 058 CD. James had guiltily turned it over as soon as he'd heard of Dr. Scott's fate.
"No!" James blurted, surprising even himself. The Director was taken aback. "I mean," he hastily continued, trying to explain himself, "please, no. I think I've had enough of that for the rest of my life."
"I see," MacLean said, nodding amicably. He slipped the CD back into whatever desk drawer it had come from. "How about a reassignment, then?"
"To a different object?" he asked, somewhat hopefully. He'd love to put some more distance between himself and 058. But then again, none of ABCA-14's other objects were teddy bears either.
"How about a different Site?"
"What?" he was incredulous.
The Director smiled knowingly. "I don't get the chance to save somebody from this shithole often. When I do, I like to make sure it's someone who deserves it. I mean, this was your first assignment. That's just unfair."
James finally allowed himself to smile, and it was a big one. "Thank you!"
"Hey, don't thank me yet. I haven't told you where you're going." Then he winked.
James blanched. So he was in trouble after all! They were going to send him to Area-02 or something, he just knew it.
Then the Director laughed. "Relax, kid! I'm just messin' with ya. You're going to 17."
"Site-17?" he sputtered. That had to be too good to be true.
"I mean, unless you want to stay here…"
"No!" He said, a bit more desperately than he'd meant to. "I mean, thank you."
"Don't mention it," he said, extending his hand for a shake. "Seriously, don't mention it. I pulled some strings."
James grinned even wider than before as he shook the Director's hand. "I-I won't, Director, I promise. When do I leave?"
"Still ironing out the details, but I'd go ahead and start packing if I were you." The the Director nodded towards the door, to make sure James didn't miss that cue to leave.
"Right away, Sir!" Then he turned to go, still smiling.
"Oh, James?"
"Yessir?" he stopped at the door and looked back.
"Tell that next asshole to come in on your way out, would you?"
"Uh, sure."
"Thanks."
James nodded, then continued on his way. He didn't have time to ponder who the asshole might be, because none other than Dr. Aimes Johnston was sitting in the waiting area. They were equally surprised to see each other.
"James?"
"Dr. Johnston?" Then James realized what was about to happen, and his smile grew even wider. "The Director's ready to see you." Then he hurried out of the room, before his perplexed former superior could figure it out.
Dr. Johnston was still confused when he entered the office of Director MacLean, who was no longer smiling.
"Take a seat," he said. "And after you do that, why don't you explain to me exactly why you sent D-067 into SCP-058's containment chamber?"
"What?"
"I went over 058's documentation again the other day, and it just seemed a little strange to me that you didn't use the built-in sound system in that chamber instead."
"Um," he began, but MacLean wasn't finished.
"Ds aren't expendable, you know. And if there's one thing I hate more than arrogant assholes who take joy in their coworkers' misfortune, send mistreated research assistants to do their dirty work, and take stuff from peoples' offices without permission, it's wastefulness."






Per 


