Per 
Dr Brannet gave three hard knocks to the dark wooden door. He waited.
"Come in," called a friendly voice.
Dr Brannet pushed open the door, and strode through into the comfortable office of Site-44's competent Director. The room was light and spacious, furnished innocently with a few scenic paintings. Brannet eyed them suspiciously. Behind a simple desk sat the Director herself, smiling at Brannet in a welcoming manner.
"Please, sit down."
Brannet carefully pulled back the offered chair, and glanced at its seat. He sat down.
"And how are you, Dr Brannet?" asked the Director.
"Fine".
"I'm very glad to hear it. And your work?"
"Fine."
There was a moment's pause while the Director straightened a stack of paper on her desk. As her desk was already a grid of impeccable tidiness, she didn't accomplish much.
"Now,' began the Director. "You've been very persistent in trying to speak to me. What exactly are you hoping to achieve in this meeting?"
"You've been rejecting my proposals," said Dr Brannet bluntly. "And I thought that if I could pitch my idea to you in person, you might see how important it is."
"Of course," sighed the Director. "Your plan for a… theory division?"
"I was thinking it could be called the Conceptualization Crew," said Dr Brannet. "But the name's not important."
"Luckily," murmured the Director.
"Basically, it's like this." began Brennet. "Every other day we find and classify a new SCP. Half of them are fish-headed nothings, or random objects that we can throw in a box and forget about. The rest are dangerous monsters, or incomprehensible phenomena that can rip humans apart. We have plans and procedures for handling them when they're contained, but we can only contain them once we've found them, and until we find them they're out there, at large, doing math knows what to the world…"
"The foundation utilizes hundreds of resources for locating anomalies," explained the Director calmly.
"Well, yes, but that's not really the point. Just think about it: we find and classify dozens of new SCPs every month. We've been finding them for years, and in all that time the rate at which we discover them hasn't gone down at all, not one bit. Now if we were actually making any kind of significant difference to the number of anomalies out there, the sample pool would thin, so to speak, and it would start getting harder and harder for us to find new ones. But that's not what's happening! If anything, our capture rate is going up, and that's not good."
"I don't -"
"Just think, for a moment, about how many really dangerous things we've got locked, the ones that could end the world if we let them. I can think of at least thirty from the top of my head. If you model the probable distribution of unclassified SCPs, based on the threat levels of the ones we have locked up and the dates at which we caught them, then you can prove, statistically, that there are more world-ending threats at large than in our entire catalog! You've seen my calculations, right?"
"Yes." That was a lie; she had made one of her more trusted mathematicians check it for her. The results were, in his words, 'quite compelling'. The part that had interested the Director the most was the question of how Dr Brannet had managed to include quite so much need-to-know data in his workings.
"And then you have to consider that the SCPs we're currently catching are, by nature, the most detectable, most detainable. The tamest. The worst ones are still out there; our current methods aren't enough!"
Abruptly, as if he had run out of power, Dr Brannet stopped talking. There was a brief pause. A small and innocuous cactus hidden in the room's far corner caught his eye; he looked at it warily for a moment. You never know.
"And so, we come to your…Conceptualization Crew," said the Director. "In your words, a team that would 'Theorize about undiscovered threats, propose modest contingencies and counter-measures, and otherwise ensure that the foundation has an answer for every situation'."
Dr Brannet nodded eagerly.
"It's a novel idea, certainly. But to get it authorized you'd need to take it to the O5s, and I tell you now that they will reject it."
"But…"
"I'm sorry, but nobody is going to sanction the spending of real resources on imaginary threats."
"But if you set up a meeting with them, I could pitch my idea face-to-face. We need this division, they have to understand that!"
"I'm ending this interview here," the Director told him flatly. "If you -"
"No no," interrupted Brannet desperately. "No, listen. What if the Earth's gravity disappeared?"
"Dr Brannet, I really -"
"Imagine it. Locomotion would become impossible. Structures would collapse. The atmosphere would disperse, continents would float away, our core would expand and freeze. Nearly every foundation asset would be neutralized; even if we figured out what was causing the problem we wouldn't be able to do anything about it."
The Director watched Brannet, a growing frown on her face. Her fingers tapped impatiently at her desk.
"So what's the solution? Simple. We get one, or several, superdense spheres. Or we make a miniature black hole, enclosed and weak. I know we have the capability, and it doesn't have to be elegant. We just put a small black hole into the Earth's core, or we sprinkle several throughout the mantle, and we leave them there, dormant. And then, if there is an issue with gravity, we just switch them on. Instant gravity! That gives us time to solve the problem, and Earth survives."
"You seem very sure that such measures are not already in place," said the Director. She held up her hand, forestalling his next comment.
"In short, this division would spend its time dreaming up hypothetical ways in which the world might end, and wasting foundation assets on them."
"Contingencies can't be wasted," said Brannet quickly. "But this is the only way to fight the things we don't know about. And I haven't even mentioned the trows."
"The what?"
"Threats right out of other worlds. I used to call them trooows, but it felt a bit redundant."
"I'm not interested -"
"We know about the existence of other worlds, right. Other universes, dimensions. Well, how many there? Infinite. It can be proven, almost. You see, if we start with the axiom that everything in our universe must have a beginning…"
"Get to the point," said the Director tiredly.
"If there are infinite universes, there must be infinite possibilities. Anything that can be imagined, and anything that can't be, and everything in between, must exist somewhere. I know your job probably doesn't leave you much space for imagination, but just try, for a moment. Think of…"
Dr Brannet trailed off as the Director looked at him, hard. There was not a trace left of her earlier friendliness. Seconds ticked by. Dr Brannet squirmed slightly in his seat, but he didn't look away. One of his hands slipped quietly into his pocket, wrapping itself around a steel knuckleduster. You never know.
Finally the Director sighed, and pushed her chair away.
"You may write a short paragraph, outlining your proposal. Make it good. I will pass it on to an O5, who will decide what to do with it. Should they reject you, this topic will never be brought up again."
"Just one O5?" asked Brannet disappointedly.
"Yes!" snapped the Director. "Which is more than your idea deserves. And no more than a hundred words - these people are very busy."
Dr Brannet opened his mouth. Then, with rare wisdom, he closed it and stood up.
"Thanks," he said.
He looked around for a moment, as if unsure what came next. Then he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.
The Director sat, alone in her comfortable room, staring at the chair Brannet had left behind.
"'My job doesn't leave space for imagination'," she muttered mockingly. Almost by themselves, her eyes slowly closed…
Timothy and Martha burst through the front door.
"Mummy! We're home!" yelled Martha.
"I'm in the kitchen, dears!" called out Mother's beautiful voice.
Father strode in after them, and shut the door. He followed the two lively children through to the spacious kitchen.
"The children have something they'd like to share with you," he told his wife.
"Yes!" grinned Martha eagerly. "Miss Aitkin said I had done really well on my memory work, and she helped me to forget the entire evening!"
"Oh, well done, darling!" beamed Mother. "I'm so proud of you. You're even younger than I was when I first learnt to forforget!"
"That's only if she actually learnt it, and isn't just pretending," said Timothy provokingly.
Father, who was quietly standing behind Martha, took a large red balloon out of his pocket. He moved it close to the back of her head, and popped it. Martha gave a loud shriek and jumped high into the air.
"Ahh!" she giggled. "That was amazing! I had no idea that was going to happen!"
"I think it's safe to say that she's forgotten the next few hours, at least," said Father, a twinkle in his eye. "And while we're here, let's not forget to hear what Timothy's accomplished!"
"Oh?" said Mother, turning to him expectantly.
" I remembered an alternate lunch today!" said Timothy proudly.
"Oh, well done! What did you remember?"
"Well, I was trying to remember fish and chips," said Timothy ruefully. "But I ended up with a lunch where I eat nothing but a bowl of tartar sauce."
Martha dissolved into giggles. "The first timeline you ever visit is the one filled with tartar sauce! Do you think you eat it for breakfast and dinner too over there?"
"If he is, I'm sure you're eating it right alongside him!" said Father. That just made Martha giggle even more.
"It's very impressive, darling," said Mother to Timothy. "And I know it won't take you long to start getting the variations you want. Ad then you can start remembering all sorts of fun! Why, I recall when your father and I had our honeymoon; there were days when we would just sit in our cabin and remember such wonderful things!"
Mother sighed sensually. Father, who was less talented than Mother, just smiled sadly.
"And you said when we both knew how to forforget, you'd give us a to play with!," interrupted Martha eagerly.
Father frowned. "I only said that we had a treat for you; I never said it was a . You remember playing with it, don't you?"
"I don't remember it tonight!" said Martha defensively. "But we're going to play with it tomorrow, and afterwards."
"You know what I said about this," said Father sternly. "A is a very special toy, and I'm not going to give it to you until I know that you can appreciate it fully."
"Yes daddy," said Martha demurely, looking at her feet.
Mother closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed in. "They're going to get bored of it after four months," she said. "I'm sure Martha can forget that much."
"Four months!" said Martha, horrified. "But then I won't know that I'm going to break my leg!"
"Oh, you can remember that later," said Mother carelessly. "But if you want to play with the tonight, you're going to have to do as your father says and forget all about it first."
"Ok," said Martha, screwing up her face in concentration. Mother laughed softly.
"Four months is going to be a lot harder than a single evening, dear," she said. "Why don't you come over here, and I'll help you out."
"Just be careful, you two," warned Father. Mother nodded distractedly.
"And as for you," said Father rounding on Timothy. "Can you remember the next four months?"
"I've already forgotten them," said Timothy smugly.
"And what about the last few minutes? You heard me say that the surprise was a . You'll need to forget that too."
"I bet I can forget just the word and nothing else," said Timothy boastfully.
"I'm home!" called Martha, suddenly and loudly. "Miss Aitkin said I had done really well on my memory work, and she helped me to forget the next four months!"
Father looked sternly at Mother, who had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
"No dear, Miss Aitkin just helped you forget his evening. I helped you to forget the rest. We've already had this conversation."
"Oh," said Martha, brow wrinkled in confusion.
"But," said Mother quickly, "Do you know what your surprise is going to be?"
Martha thought about it for a moment. "No, I don't!" she realized in an excited voice.
"And you?"
"I have no idea!" said Timothy eagerly. "What is it? Tell us!"
"Tell us!" Martha repeated.
With everyone looking at him, Father smiled.
"Oh, all right then. This is your reward for being such clever children. Are you ready?"
"Show us! Show us!" they cried.
Father unlocked the Forbidden Cupboard, and took out a box. Then he paused.
"You know, I really feel like this might be a better thing to open after dinner…"
Martha shrieked.
"Oh, stop teasing them," said Mother fondly.
"Alright then," smiled Father. "Are you ready?"
He reached into the box and pulled out their gift.
"It's a world!"
A stick figure, relaxing in its two-dimensional world, has a very limited range of vision. It can look up and down, but that's about it. Any sense of depth, from its perspective, can only really be estimated at. Width is a concept beyond comprehension. As such, any two-dimensional being would only be able to see things as a single, widthless, one-dimensional line.
Three-dimensional beings have a lot more to work with. They can look up and down, and left and right. They can use their sense of depth perception to guess at how far away things are. Three-dimensional beings, such as the humble human, see two-dimensionally.
Imagine two stick figures, reclining in their two-dimensional world. Between the two is a wall, blocking their vision. They cannot see each other. But a human, standing on an axis beyond their comprehension, could see both stick figures simultaneously. A human could see right past the wall.
As Dr Brannet sat at his desk, desperately writing and re-writing his plea to the O5s, he was surrounded by a pile of sketched equations and scribbled theorems. Some of them he brushed against as he worked, sending them untidily on to the floor. He didn't notice. Eventually he got up and dashed off, mindlessly trampling on his work as he headed back to the Director's room.
And so it was that a muddy shoeprint and a streak of ugly creases covered the carefully considered ideas, theories and hypotheses that marked Dr Brannet's attempts on how to shield the foundation's most hidden secrets from the piercing gaze of any, potential, four-dimensional threat.
Timothy and Martha gazed at their brand new world through eight different dimensions.
