A photo of SCP-XXXX-1 during recovery from the █████ residence.
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-XXXX is currently hung in Site-24 Revised Staffroom 16 on the far left wall. Revised Staffroom 16 has the following modifications;
- Level S-XZ-ALT Reality Holsters affixed to each wall (previously Level E-XX-ALT Reality Holsters)
- Furnishings removed to be replaced with an observation deck
- Outside door replaced with standard issue containment door
Personnel wishing to use the board outside of testing parameters must write a request to the current project head, containing the reason for use and the colour of chalk they wish to use. Any personnel writing permission to use the red or yellow chalk are subject to a mandatory psychological screening after use to be immediately denied.
SCP-XXXX-1 and it's contents are to be stored in the allocated slot on the side of the chalkboard held in a Level 1 Anomalous Objects Locker inside of Safe Object Vault 3. All extractions of the chalk are to be logged, along with the personnel that submitted the request.
Instances of SCP-XXXX-2 appear to be confined to SCP-XXXX, and therefore, no further containment is required. The Trans-Dimensional Communication Hub are to be sent transcripts of conversations between test subjects and SCP-XXXX-2 for dimensional code to be identified and contacted for further study and information.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a 60 x 80cm chalkboard with a pinewood trim. SCP-XXXX displays its anomalous properties when written on by SCP-XXXX-1, though it can be written on with standard chalk and erased with a blackboard rubber. It shows minimal signs of wear and little to no exterior damage, which due to the location it was found (see Discovery), should be impossible.
Found alongside SCP-XXXX, designated SCP-XXXX-1, is a collection of five (5) pieces of pastel chalk inside. The colours are varied, from green to brown, and all appear to have been used before. Fingerprint analysis has come up inconclusive. It is theorized that SCP-XXXX-1's anomalous properties occur when the chalk comes into contact with SCP-XXXX, due the lack of anomalous ability displayed when using SCP-XXXX-1a ("Brown Chalk") against a Foundation-bought chalkboard.
Instances of SCP-XXXX-2 manifest in the form of answers or statements to questions or remarks written on the surface of SCP-XXXX with any variety of SCP-XXXX-1. Subjects holding the chalk are always directly reffered to by name. SCP-XXXX-2 is thought to be (and when using particular colours, actively claims to be) a clone of the subject in a different dimension. It displays knowledge of a subject's private and personal life - subjects remarking that the information is 'completely accurate' despite claiming to have never told anyone the information. Despite the accuracy of this information, several historical and temporal differences have been noted when talking to instances of SCP-XXXX-2, most notably when using SCP-XXXX-1c ("Red Chalk") and SCP-XXXX-1b ("Green Chalk") - See 'Chalk Testing Log' for further details.
Discovery: SCP-XXXX was discovered alongside SCP-XXXX-1 after being salvaged from the aftermath of a tornado in Manzanita, Oregon. It was found in perfect condition and purchased by the ██████ family, who hung it up in their kitchen for use. The seller has not been found - Foundation location efforts are still underway as of 12/5/10.
The Foundation was alerted to its potentially anomalous qualities after the ██████ family called the police a little over 48 hours later, claiming that someone was coming in at night and writing on the chalkboard. An operative stationed within the police department was called to the scene and attempted to write on the chalkboard with SCP-XXXX-1b ("Green Chalk"). After getting a response a little over an hour later by an instance of SCP-XXXX-2, the operative contacted the Foundation for retrieval and recovery. The civilians in question were given Class B amnestics and placed under Foundation surveillance for 2 weeks before being cleared by security personnel for any involvement in further anomalous activity.
Test 1 - SCP-XXXX-1a : Brown Chalk
Subject - D-34463 : Previously "Darren Martin" prior to incarceration
Question - "Who are you?"
Response - "I am you."
Question - "What year is it?"
Response - "2009"
Date is incorrect. The date at the time of the test was January 12th, 2010.
Question - "What's my daughter's name?
Response - "Amelia Martin."
Question - "What's my wife's name?"
Response - "Elizabeth Martin."
D-34463 shows signs of distress and requests to stop the experiment. Request denied.
Question - "Who's the president of the United States?"
Response - "John McCain."
Question - "Where are you?"
Response - "At home, writing to me us you."
First recorded instance of SCP-XXXX-2 erasing it's own words.
Conclusion - Testing stopped after SCP-XXXX-2 wrote to D-34463 first, asking 'How's mom and dad?' to which the subject had a violent reaction and refused to continue with test. SCP-XXXX-1a appears to be a link to a dimension not too dissimilar to our own, with minor time and historical changes.
Test 2 - SCP-XXXX-1b : Green Chalk
Subject - D-34467 : previously "Lydia Roman" prior to incarceration
Question - "Who are you?"
Response - "You, I think."
Question - "What year is it?"
Response - "1984"
Second recorded instance of SCP-XXXX-2 reporting a different time.
Question - "Where are you?"
Response - "Bunker. Damn commies dropping bombs."
Question - "Commies? Like the USSR?"
Response - "Who else? The Reds, whatever you want to call them."
Question - "Is James okay?"
Response - "James? James Graw? He is He was alright. I think he was outside when the bomb dropped."
When questioned, D-34467 confirmed that she knew a 'James Graw' in prison briefly, though she had been told that he'd been terminated a few days before Foundation acquisition.
Question - "Where did you work before the war?"
Response - "I can't remember. Been too long since they did it, I guess."
Conclusion - Testing was concluded at 1400. SCP-XXXX-1b appears to be a link to a dimension where the Cold War 'went hot' with atomic detonation.
Test 3 - SCP-XXXX-1c : Red Chalk
Subject - D-77563 : Previously "Kyle Morian" prior to incarceration
Foreword - Unlike previous testing, as soon as D-77563 held SCP-XXXX-1c, SCP-XXXX-2 manifested as seemingly frantic scribbles that covered the whole of SCP-XXXX before rapidly erasing itself. Phrases included 'Micheal killed himself for me to live', 'Please, god, help me' and other such pleas for help. Testing was postponed until the following day to avoid any unwanted dimensional affects.
Question - "What were you writing yesterday?"
Response - "Oh thank god, someone's there. I read the article on this thing but I didn't think that it'd actually work."
Question - "What do you mean 'read the article'?"
Response - "You should know! You're me, after all. Or am I you? I doubt it matters. Where you can talk to yourself in another dimension?"
Question - "What's going on over there?"
Response - "So it's not in your dimension? Things are going to shit over here, man, to shit. There wasn There was a news article about this… guy who got eaten by some street art, I think, and it all went to hell from there."
Question - "How did you find the article?"
Response - "After everything went to hell, here was this .. Foundation, I think? They came out and told everyone to keep calm and that they would take control of the situation. Heard a few of them calling it an 'Dead World' scenario or something. I've just been finding articles about the place."
Question - "What other things have you seen?"
Response - "God, I don't know. It's been hell. Hell."
End of Testing Notes - As testing ended, SCP-XXXX-2 actively tried to avoid the connection between D-77563 and SCP-XXXX-1c being severed, claiming that 'I'm going to die here without myself'. Further testing required See Addendum-XXXX-1c.
Conclusion - SCP-XXXX-1c seems to link to a dystopian XK-Class 'End Of The World' scenario. Attempts are currently being made to locate the dimension number to try and contact a Trans-Dimensional Communications Hub to confirm or deny this hypothesis.
Test 4 - SCP-XXXX-1d : Blue Chalk
Subject - Dr. Sovereign : Assigned to SCP-XXXX under provisional basis. Submitted a form for testing on 5/12/10, approved on the 7/12/10 by project head.
Foreword - Dr. Sovereign commented that the board appeared to be more damaged than before. Caution was advised going forward.
Question - "Is anyone there?"
Response - "Hello! How many I help you today?"
Question - "Pardon?"
Response - "Sorry, let me clarify! Welcome to the Trans-Dimensional Service Stop! How may I help you today?"
Question - "Where is this place?"
Response - "Sorry, I don't think I understand! You can only talk to the TDSS if you have the correct phone line. I'll have to assume an incorrect dial. Please come again next time!"
End of Testing Notes - Shortly after these words, SCP-XXXX-1d shattered into three (3) pieces in Dr. Sovereign's hand, resulting in small lacerations to his palm and left cheek. SCP-XXXX was additionally reported to unhook itself from the wall and fall onto it's corner, remaining suspended there until Dr. Sovereign left the room, at which point, it hung itself back up again. No other instance of something like this has happened after this incident.
Conclusion - SCP-XXXX-1d appears to be a link to a customer-service-esque help line located in Di-Pass8839-XF. No Foundation presence as been reported in such a dimension, as contact seems to be impossible as of writing.
Memo from Dr. Sovereign - 'Can we get this thing S-XZ Reality Holsters to affix it in 16? I know it seems like overkill, and I never though that I'd say this, but I really think that something horrible could go wrong if we don't take steps to make sure that SCP-XXXX isn't allowed to be moved of it's own accord. Come on, guys - It's the 'Secure' part of the memo we're missing here. - Dr. Sovereign.
.
.
.
WARNING. LEVEL 4/XXXX CLEARANCE REQUIRED TO ACCESS THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION. ALL LOGIN ATTEMPTS WILL BE LOGGED AND STORED.
Test 5 - SCP-XXXX-1e : Yellow Chalk
Subject - Dr. Marshall
Foreword - Due to Dr. Marshall's sudden and impromptu shift in mental stability after the test was concluded, no further testing is permitted with SCP-XXXX-1e without approval from at least 2 Level 4/XXXX clearance personnel. Dr.████ is currently taking any and all testing requests for Dr. Marshall until his recovery or removal from the project. As per Dr. Marshall's request, testing with SCP-XXXX-1e is to be suspended indefinitely. Any personnel found accessing SCP-XXXX-1e will be severely sanctioned.
SCP-XXXX-1e exhibited behavior similar to that of SCP-XXXX-1c, though rather than pleas of help, they appeared to be quotes from Dr. Marshall's private life.
Question - "Where are you?"
Respose - "Not really anywhere. Then again, neither are you, are we, A███?
Question - "Are you suggesting you know where I am?"
Response - "Well, we have to make sure that our silly selves don't get hurt, don't we?"
Question - "Who made this board?"
Response - "Human curiosity - no more, no less. We've always wanted to see ourselves as others see us, so here's the solution."
Dr. Marshall is shown to get a little uncomfortable, but continues
Question - "What are your intentions?"
Response - "What are your intentions, would be a better question. What do you want to know? Or see? Or hear?"
Question - "I intend to understand and contain you. Those are my intentions."
Response - "When faced with impossibility, you revert back to work. We always do. What do you want to know, A███?"
Dr. Marshall pauses for a second before placing the chalk back on the board. Before he writes, another message appears
Response - "I'm you, you're me. We don't know where he went, A███. It's best not to think about that."
Dr. Marshall begins to shake
Question - "How did you know what I was going to write?"
Response - "We are together, apart. Magma and lava. Verbatim. I know as much as you know, and in that regard, I know all."
There is a prolonged pause. Dr. Marshall is urged to continue
Question - "You know where he is, don't you, you bastard?"
End of Test Notes - Test was stopped by Dr. Marshall before SCP-XXXX-2 had a chance to respond. SCP-XXXX-1e was split in half upon contact to the floor. Dr. Marshall left the testing chamber at 1340.
Addendum-XXXX-1c: As of 4/12/10, SCP-XXXX-1c no longer appears to produce an anomalous affect when used on SCP-XXXX. Subjects told to use SCP-XXXX-1c, even without prior knowledge of its anomalous abilities, will actively try to avoid testing or refuse all together. Current hypothesis suggests that the dimension that SCP-XXXX-1c links to is being destroyed or no longer exists.
Space - It's not a final frontier anymore
The crew of a space station (entirely unrelated to the Foundation) watch Earth from afar - watching an XK-Class scenario or something along those lines (or just perhaps anomalies in general). Could be done through journal logs or just typical stories.
Idea Review: Not done
Good Idea?: Blank for now
They looked as if they were touching the heavens, molten hands gripping at the pearly gates before crashing back down on the tidal wave of madness that was the burning building. The flames had certainly exceeded Lerou's expectations. The cries of blackened allies merely echoed on his twinkling eyes as the rising flames billowed out in an inviting, hypnotic swathe. The crimson fans swayed in the wind, gesturing to the far off escape of blue skies.
Glass was scattered around the scene, traces of what was once soaked fabric far gone to the wind. A broken window? A smashed bottle? It was all the same now, no matter the cause - united under an equilibrium of ash and dust.
Unity. Peace within destruction.
Peace was an unsuccessful focus test with the entire human population as its subject; It was teased and teased until humanity screamed for the teasing to stop. Those with higher power laughed at that little game they played, so vainly called 'democracy'; Lerou scorned their tainted consciousness.
As the only defining truth of human nature, violence was the only thing they understood. Destroy the status quo and remake it to your own suiting - a better life.
Fire, however, was so much different from 'destruction'. It was like watching living art; canvases painting themselves and stories being written in front of you. Curls of amber forming faces, lyrics, pictures; the stories of a lifetime told through a soft and delicate hand. You couldn't let such beauty be portrayed as destruction, could you? Under the watchful eye of the enlightened, the flame of revolution would never go out.
Lerou threw the matchbox into the dimming flames of the west side, ignoring the calls to stand down behind him. The operative could care less, at this point. Couldn't they understand what he was trying to show them? An eye for an eye and the world does not simply grow blind, they find new ways to see.
Was that an evil goal?
Peace and protection?
The agent hardly saw it as such. If that was such a stretch, then perhaps the Foundation was the biggest evil of them all. If that was true then he was doing the world a favour. They couldn't see this beauty properly so he'd burn it into the sky.
A glimmer of a smile appeared on Lerou's face, the lick of the flames across his feet enticing. Asking him to join the revolt; dancing with him one more time, across the pyre into a new age.
The whisper of flames drew the agent to his feet and towards his kingdom of warmth, the crackling of embers the soundtrack to the grandest ball. Voices faded into radio static as his feet lightly pattered across the broken dance floor. He'd be there, too.
Freedom under ash.
What were numbers, anyway? What did they mean anymore? Blank strokes over useless lines; all of these numbers that reflected something. Some of these numbers even reflected someone, at one point. Someone's whole life taken from them because they were deemed 'special' enough to lock up.
MacJade didn't have the place to interject, though.
There were so many numbers that ran past his eyes every single day that it was so hard to keep a track of. Drowning in a sea of meaningless subservience - that was MacJade. A number on a spreadsheet. He was a number too. That realization had come rather quickly once he watched the clock enough. A number holding precedent over other numbers.
This had to be a violation of his worker's rights, if he had any left.
Maybe he'd write up a complaint to the Ethics Committee, if they existed.
No, that was too much effort. Too little numbers.
[WIP]
Tears spat at his eyes, heavy breathing breaking his ability to hear what was around him. Thorns were trodden into the soles of his feet but there was no point in stopping. If he did, there'd be more than thorns piercing his skin. Streaks of red fluttered behind him as the feathers of his wings tried desperately to gain any leverage. There was nothing that he could do - the crimson feathers were just too weak and fluffy to get him any leverage at all. He was stuck, grounded. The yelling of people behind him were barely heard over his resounding sob as he stared at the cliff in front of him.
And he jumped.
It'd be wrong to call this an epitaph. I cannot die. Rather, I think this shall be a message to those who wish to know. Know everything? Not quite. Just know. Something. If you found this empty place on your star maps or codexes and came to investigate, let this letter be your guide, like I once guided many others.
An epitaph for Earth. Yes. That's what I shall call this.
His heart stopped.
Then it restarted.
The sensation of falling was immense. Liseo wanted to scream yet there was an odd sensation of something pulling on his chest.
It took him far too long to realize that he'd been helping himself up.
An epitaph for Earth. What a title. It could have been a title to a book, at one point. But that's getting ahead of ourselves.
In the year 2020, the world ended.
In the year 2025, humanity ceased to exist.
In the year 2030, the world ceased to exist.
Despite humanities best efforts, the things they sought to contain and protect fell back on them.
I did warn them to just destroy it and be done with it.
Questions swam through his mind at a million miles a second. He was only 12, how was he meant to deal with this?
He smiled at himself and in the warmest voice that he'd ever heard, he said;
'You'll understand soon enough'.
And Liseo believed himself.
I had a student. She was called Claire. The sweetest girl you could ever ask for.
Intelligent, amusing, positive.
What the world needed, yet did not deserve.
" The Foundation? "
" Yes. Please, I must ask this of you. Avoid them. At any and all costs, avoid them. "
" You speak of such grand things and you expect me to just stay away from them? "
" We are eternity. I am you. You are me. Yet you doubt me so adamantly? "
I was responsible for her death.
I cried for months. Sometimes I damn my immortality to hell.
Just a shame I can't go there with it.
" Are you… Crow? "
" Yes, I am. Who are you? Why do you know my name? "
" My name is Liseo. Eternity told me to find you. "
" Eternity? "
" What can you tell me about the Global Occult Coalition? "
But despite my 'knowledge of everything', I have yet to learn one thing.
Perhaps the person reading this knows of it, yet I do not.
Love. Such a mysterious thing.
" Claire, is it? My name is Liseo. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. "
" Wonderful to meet you! How did you guess my name? Did Keiran tell you? "
" No, my dear. "
" Eternity told me to find you. "
.
.
.
Liseo put down his pen, shaking his head as he stared at the glittering diamonds sewn into the night sky. Stars were always so beautiful, weren't they?
" ah.. you would have loved this, Claire. "
A sad laugh echoed on the nothing of space. A fragment of a locket shimmered past him and he cradled it with his wing, bringing it closer to his body so he could read it.
The word 'Eternity' was scratched onto its surface.
Liseo cursed the universe once more.
I know you hate letters.
The day was dark, the sky mourning the loss for those who'd died under it. At least, in that respect, Ivan had something in common with the world around him.
I know we were meant to protect you. I know you're busy; You have such a bright future in front of you but we need you for this. We can't do this without you.
The whir of the taxi was annoying.
Distracting.
Then again, what wasn't? It wasn't hard to pay attention to everything when two of your friends had been taken by the pseudo-government. There wasn't a lot to go from this note alone. The apartment would provide some more answers.
You know as well as I that this was the worst possible outcome. I know we never told you about the failsafe; this is it. Print this out, you're going to need it.
He read over the paper again and again, his bruised fingertips brushing over every word. They weren't the type to mess around, after the Bridgewater incident. None of them had doubted for a second that this was inevitable.
Ivan, if you're reading this? We failed. And we're sorry.
Answers. Truth? No. This was a personal matter now. Steel shone in Ivan's eyes as he stared at the snow-covered streets passing by.
Personal matters required a personal touch.
The sense of overwhelming nostalgia was enough to drive him to tears. An uncharacteristically open door glared him the face, glimmers of sunlight slicing through the heavy air. Impromptu vertigo tore through his perception as his hand guided the door open, the crushing weight of solidarity pushing against Ivan's meek effort.
The cloying odor of permanent markers and stale coffee rushed out to greet him. The apartment was frozen in time; its wallpaper was mottled and blemished, like the curled pages of an old book left out in the rain. Newspaper clippings were scattered across the floor. Three clipboards had been stacked up like a Jenga tower.
Home, at one point.
Ivan's boots crunched across a few of the papers as the door squealed shut behind him, his eyes guiding him slowly over the scene. No sign of struggle; no real sign that anything was wrong. Like he'd turn the corner and see Lily and Simon there, pens in hand as they tried to piece together a string of probably nonsensical numbers. As if they'd just look up, wave and invite him to have some coffee and contribute to their conspiratory ramblings.
Despite being the youngest, he was the father of the group, metaphorically speaking. The idea of 'the truth' - whatever the people in power were undeniably hiding from them - was an exciting prospect, if not a dangerous one. Now the facts were laid out here, clear as day, and there was no room for denying it.
They'd forgotten. Lily and Simon remembered. Lily and Simon were silenced.
They'd only given Ivan a muffler.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Ivan made his way over to the little circular table that sat, solitary, in the middle of the kitchen and picked up the clipboard that was balancing precariously on top of all the others. The counter groaned disapprovingly at Ivan's weight, several pairs of test tubes clinking together.
Day 23, I think.
It's hard to see where we're going wrong. I mean, it's getting harder and harder to recall anything at all, now. I think someone spiked our air con or something. Convenient, considering it's broken and we can't turn it off.
Oh, who am I kidding? Those bastards are this close to finding us. I'm taking Lily out of town tomorrow - we're not going to be tracked down and herded like a bunch of sheep. There's a reason I use the term 'sheeple' so liberally.
I regret not being better at my damn job. These clipboards are meant to be all 'science-y' and stuff but I can't find an ounce of science in here. I don't even remember writing half of these articles. How stupid does a living piece of street art sound, anyway?
Though, if my our theories are correct, that's exactly what they want us to think.
God damn it all, I'm so confused.
I regret not being better at my jo
Screw leaving tomorrow.
We're leaving right now.
Thanks for everything,
Simon Cortez.
The ink was still strangely wet. It was the same solution they used on their whiteboards, producing a strong smell reminiscent of the teachers lounges that Ivan complained about so much.
Simon and Lily kept Ivan up to date regarding research and breakthroughs, especially since the spillage from the 'radio plant' down the road. The only thing they broadcast were lies as far as the group was concerned. Even then, the fail safe had been sent out two days ago. They could have called him in that time frame; Lily was infamous in their little circle for constantly being on the phone.
Taking the next clipboard from the pile, the whir of the air con sang its tune across the stagnant air, the dust dancing to the slow melody. An all-encompassing sound, filling the air and quelling the worried whispers of supplies and notes left behind.
Day 43,
Simon told me to pack my things. He said something about a 'panic reaction' and 'amnesia instigators' or something. He seems to think it's the end of the world.
There's really no point arguing with him; everything he says adds up. I mean, let me give you an example.
The corrosive ability of this material is not yet known, though when tested with Mica-Rat-1 and Mica-Rat-2, the latter adapted to the H-Readings incredibly quickly and the other melted as if encountering Sulfuric Acid.
We found that sample in a seemingly resistant test tube in the ocean in the river somewhere in water. Isn't that just a little bit strange? We can't even find Mica-Rat-2! Only a little black spot on the wall!
I think it might be a little too late to run away now; we should have seen this coming since Bridgewater.
Good luck, Ivan. I'll give you a call soon, if they haven't got you too by then.
Lily Cortez.
Ivan's interrupted breathing quelled the dance of the dust ever so slightly, rising in protest as the second clipboard was set down. There was only one left, laying peacefully, undisturbed.
Amnesia Intervention Study 7.
L - Light Amnesia; sample found in nearby water reservoirs. Local wildlife showed decreased awareness of human presence and automotive vehicles. Appears to have similar chemical qualities to AM-40 - Simon's suggested hypothesis as to the Feds control use.
G - General Amnesia; sample found inside of Felis catus (Common House Cat). Discovered by me Ivan Lupei after subject wandered straight up to a stray dog and started meowing at it for food, like it would to the likes of a human. Subject showed no sign of panic or even a flinch response when picked up for further testing. Appears to be a stronger variant of AM-40, designated AM-50.
Ivan's ghost of a smile twisted into a frown as he idly patted his blazer pocket for a pen. The pen that he swore he took with him. The pen resting neatly on the clipboard's holder.
A - Advanced Amnesia; The air vent. Check the air vent. Do not forget the air vent. Designated AM-90.
The same cool eyes glanced towards the vent, whirring its same, hypnotic song. Upon second inspection, there appeared to be a note stuck onto the grate, fluttering gently in the slightly flower-scented breeze.
Out of time crunching accompanied his movements as his purple fingers took the note, gripping the paper tight enough to rip it.
We have a lead.
I found the Bridgewater Files.
XilasCrowe - 11 - "It's Xilas. This is normal." REDUCTION -2
Proasek - 10
North - 2 - MAD BONUS +5
Lazerhawk - 0
MaliceAF - 2
PopcornK - 0
ARD - 0
BlueJones - 0
FitnessGram - 0
NotExactlyHuman - 3
Pratten - 0
dentix - 0
Solari - 4
MoreWorldliness - Satan.