Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Project SYPHIL-OMEGA is underway to neutralize the presence of SCP-XXXX and EoI-121 entities. Until this initiative is completed, temporary containment procedures may be used to combat SCP-XXXX entities.
SCP-XXXX-1 entities are to be left alone if encountered in the field. Hostile SCP-XXXX-1 instances are to be destroyed using either explosive weapons, acid, or extreme blunt force. SCP-XXXX-2 instances are to be destroyed in a similar manner. Avian Division personnel are advised not to enter buildings without first sending a reconnaissance drone to determine if the building is an instance of SCP-XXXX-3. SCP-XXXX-3 instances are to be demolished with explosive weapons.
Description: SCP-XXXX is the collective designation for a group of memetic entities currently inhabiting the Noosphere that are subservient to EoI-1211. The primary goal of SCP-XXXX is to fully manifest EoI-121 into baseline reality. However, for reasons that are presently unclear, they are unable to accomplish this. However, SCP-XXXX have the ability to partially manifest themselves into baseline reality by merging their concepts with that of existing objects. SCP-XXXX also designates objects that have been merged with these entities.
SCP-XXXX-1 refers to statues that have been made the host of an SCP-XXXX entity. Instances of SCP-XXXX-1 resemble their original forms, although with one or more additional avianlike features, such as beaks, wings, or talons. Instances of SCP-XXXX-1 are often capable of locomotion or limited flight. SCP-XXXX-1 are believed to play the role of a combat force on the part of EoI-121, as all instances of SCP-XXXX-1 have been actively aggressive to Avian Division personnel.
SCP-XXXX-1A is the designation given to the former Statue of Liberty, now an instance of SCP-XXXX-1 of presumably high rank among EoI-121's forces.
SCP-XXXX-2 refers to household items and tools that host SCP-XXXX entities. Similarly to SCP-XXXX-1, SCP-XXXX-2 resemble their previous forms, although now carrying avianlike features. SCP-XXXX-2 instances are capable of flight, but are otherwise incapable of further locomotion. SCP-XXXX-2 originally assisted SCP-XXXX-1 instances in combat; however, SCP-XXXX-2 is believed to now fulfill a scouting role.
SCP-XXXX-3 refers to buildings hosting SCP-XXXX entities. However, unlike SCP-XXXX-1 and -2, instances of SCP-XXXX-3 do not display any outward modification. SCP-XXXX-3 instances are able to modify their internal and external structure at will. SCP-XXXX-3 are believed to be used as ambushes.
It is believed that EoI-121 did not use SCP-XXXX initially. However, after the presence of several anti-EoI-121 groups came to the attention of EoI-121, such as the Foundation Avian Division and the Global Occult Coalition, EoI-121 either created or enlisted SCP-XXXX entities to neutralize these groups.
Addendum: Timeline
Site-17 was in ruins. The once well-kept grounds of the site were littered with debris and ash. Inside the site, tables were overturned, shattered glass was spread, and the containment cells were empty. The horrors they had once contained had either succumbed to the flock of humans that now roamed the land, or had taken one look at what was now Earth and decided to leave immediately. The containment chambers that still worked were running on badly-damaged emergency generators or what was left of Site-17's power supply.
SCP-2785 walked the halls of Site-17 as the emergency generators hummed in the background. It reminded him of bees. He remembered a time bees tried to sting him for stealing their honey, but they couldn't sting him because he was made of metal. It was sad, because SCP-2785 didn't like hurting the bees. Now he’d never steal honey, because stealing was wrong.
He found the gate to the site. It was now open, the lock shattered by the brute force of some other anomaly. SCP-2785 stepped through the doors and into the open desert to look for new friends.
SCP-2785, after strenuous and completely random navigation through the desert, finally came upon a town. It was like an oasis in the middle of the desert. SCP-2785 saw buildings, roads, and most importantly, all sorts of new people to make friends with!
After walking through the rusted town gates and entering the dusty, litter-filled streets, SCP-2785 looked around for people. It seemed that several were taking naps— some were even taking naps in a weird, red, gooey liquid— but SCP-2785 only found one person who was awake.
SCP-2785 felt excited as he approached the man. Wanting to start off on the right foot, he cleared his non-existent throat and tried to talk in a calm voice. "Hello there, stranger!" he said, "Do you want to be friends?"
The man turned around with a blank expression on his face and screeched a little. After a burst of initial confusion, SCP-2785 realized that screech sounded something like "yes", and the confusion was instantly replaced with a great amount of excitement. In the first time in what seemed like forever, SCP-2785 had made a new friend!
"Hooray!" SCP-2785 shouted with glee "Where would you like to go first, new friend!"
The new friend started to trot slowly away, stepping around the larger piles of litter. SCP-2785 followed with enthusiasm.
After spending some time wandering around the dry, sandy city with his new friend (SCP-2785 figured that he was exercising; SCP-2785 decided that he could stand to lose a few pounds and jogged with him), he entered a jewelry shop. The window was broken open, and there was no lights on inside. "Are we going to buy some jewelry?" SCP-2785 asked. The new friend didn't say anything as he entered the store.
As he entered the store, SCP-2785 was dazzled by the array of gems and fineries around him. SCP-2785 couldn't wait to try them on! Of course, this dazzling was dampened by the scattered glass and litter in the shop, but SCP-2785 wasn't one to judge.
Looking at his new friend, however, SCP-2785 noted that he didn't have any jewelry. SCP-2785 was made out of metal; he sparkled no matter what. However, his new friend didn't have a single sparkle to spare! It would be a crime— no, an affront to basic decency!— for SCP-2785 to leave his new friend without even one piece of jewelry!
SCP-2785 walked over to one of the shattered display cases and took out a grey-and-white ring that he thought would match his new friend's fashionably torn shirt. Then, he walked over to his new friend, and slid the ring onto his finger. "Do you like it?" he asked.
His new friend squealed a little in response, and wet himself. SCP-2785 interpreted this as a yes, and if he could've, he would've blushed. He just helped his new friend!
SCP-2785 got to work.
An hour later, his new friend (who SCP-2785 now called Crar, based upon his screeches) was looking shinier than ever! He wore ten shining rings, five diamond necklaces, a crown that made him look like a king, jewel-encrusted sunglasses, and a golden, amazing-looking chain around his neck! "I think you look great!" SCP-2785 said.
Crar screeched in affirmation, and began to leave the shop.
Suddenly, SCP-2785 felt that something wasn't right. He searched his memory, like a housekeeper frantically searching his house, until he found what he was looking for: the Site Director telling him the rules. SCP-2785 remembered…
"Alright, 2785, we've got a few rules around here. No fighting, no escaping, and no stealing. If you do any of these things, we'll have to take away some of your privileges."
…no stealing…
…we'll have to take away some of your privileges…
The realization hit SCP-2785 like a baseball bat. He was stealing! And if he was caught stealing, the Site Director would take away his privileges! He had to do something!
"Come back here, Crar!" SCP-2785 shouted while running at Crar. Crar, seeing a robot run directly at him, screeched and began to flee. SCP-2785 dashed after him in pursuit.
SCP-2785 eventually chased Crar out of town and into the burning hot desert. Fortunately, SCP-2785 didn't mind the heat. The chase continued past another, more dilapidated town, around a range of monolithic mountains, and into a tranquil birch-wood forest. The calls of animals were gone, replaced with a peaceful silence and the mechanical wheezing of SCP-2785 running at the loudly screeching Crar.
Although Crar was somewhat weighed down by his jewelry, SCP-2785 hadn't prioritized running in his latest Transformation, and so they were about the same speed. After a few hours of zigzagging through desert and wilderness, Crar began to slow down from exhaustion, and SCP-2785 caught him in a protective embrace. Crar screeched a little before passing out.
As SCP-2785 hoisted Crar in a fireman's carry, it dawned on him that he had no idea where he was. He used to be in a desert, now he was in a forest. The birchwood trees reminded him of those from his homeland, but he didn't want to worry about that now. No worries! he thought to himself, I'll just look around and try to find things that look familiar!
SCP-2785 looked up and saw the sun, hanging over the sky, eternal. Okay, too familiar. He looked lower, and saw a snow-capped mountain. SCP-2785 didn't remember seeing a snow-capped mountain back in the town. He also saw a skyscraper in the distance. It wasn't the fanciest skyscraper in the world; even from the distance, SCP-2785 could make out broken windows, dirty balconies, and the dark brown ooze of disrepair seeping over the building. But looking at the skyscraper gave SCP-2785 an idea.
What if I climbed to the top, and looked for the city from there? It was a genius idea!
SCP-2785 set off in the direction of the tower, Crar in stow.
After some time, Crar woke up, and tried to squirm away from SCP-2785. But not wanting a repeat of the earlier incident, SCP-2785 held him in the fireman's carry. Eventually, SCP-2785 found some twine that he was able to use as a leash, and he wrapped it around Crar's waist. It reminded SCP-2785 of the dog that Dr. Jonas occasionally brought to the site. SCP-2785 wondered where that dog was now. Crar wondered where he could find the nearest seeds.
Crar, after struggling, eventually became resigned to the leash and walked along with SCP-2785. However, once the sun starting going down, Crar became sluggish, and SCP-2785 decided he needed some sleep.
SCP-2785 found a heavy boulder that he used to weigh down Crar's leash. He couldn't find a blanket, so he decided to improvise. He circled the flat plain he had decided to sleep in, and collected leaves into a pile. Then, he covered Crar with the pile of leaves, and snuck another pile underneath his head to act as a pillow. Still worried about his warmth, SCP-2785 curled up next to Crar to keep him warm, using the heat from his Core.
"Goodnight, Crar" said SCP-2785, giving him the closest thing to a goodnight kiss before pretending to fall asleep.
Another day of walking through the empty forest passed, and the dilapidated tower became slightly closer. SCP-2785 weighed down Crar's leash again and, remembering what he once saw in the signals, piled some small twigs he found laying around and ignited them by rubbing two together. Sitting at the tiny campfire with his new friend, SCP-2785 felt a certain tranquility in the night.
"How are you today, Mr. Crar?" SCP-2785 asked.
Crar squealed a little in response. SCP-2785 figured that he was a man of few words. He still wore his jewelry, which glittered in the light of the campfire, making Crar look like a disco ball. This was followed by an awkward silence.
"Have you noticed that everybody's seemed to go away?" SCP-2785 said to break the silence, "I haven't seen anybody except for you, and, when I got out of Site-17, I didn't even see one of my old friends!"
Crar stared at him with beady eyes, which SCP-2785 took as a signal to go on.
"It's just… I want to see more people. I was made to help people! I feel like, if I can make just one person happier, then I'll be happy. I like seeing everybody smile. But, you're the only one here, and I haven't seen you smile."
Crar looked at him with the tight-lipped expression that he'd always looked at him with, still sort-of staring at him with those beady eyes.
"Do you think you could do me a favor, and smile? Please?"
Crar did nothing but screech a little.
"You know what, you're right, I'm ranting. Good night."
SCP-2785 laid down with Crar, ignoring the pinecones and weeds, and pretended to fall asleep.
"Hey, we got somebody."
Agent Gully nudged Agent Gullison awake with his wing. He pointed at the security monitor, at what appeared to be a robot carrying a knocked-out person covered in jewelry.
"Hold on, I recognize him," said Agent Gullison as he pulled up the mainlist on his laptop. After typing in some key words into a search engine, he loaded an SCP file. "Item Number: SCP-2785" read Gullison, "Object Class: Euclid."
"Let's call Dr. Hoygull," Gully said.
The serene silence that SCP-2785 loved about the forest was suddenly shattered by soft footprints causing the leaves to make a crunching noise. He saw a group of seagulls walk out of the forest with very stern bird looks on their bird faces. They wore lab coasts sized perfectly for seagulls, making them look like tiny scientists.
"Hello!" said SCP-2785.
The seagull in front took out a pen and a sheet of paper, put the pen in its mouth, and began to write on it.
"Um… I can't read" said SCP-2785.
The seagull clutched his head with his wing in disappointment.
"But… uh… I can't read… English!" replied SCP-2785, struggling with the word, "I can read… uh… the other language!"
One of the other seagulls stepped forwards, took the sheet of paper, and wrote in the language that SCP-2785 could read: Russian.
"Hello!" the seagull wrote, "can you read this?"
"I can understand you!" replied SCP-2785, "Do you want to be friends?"
"Yes," replied the seagull, "but we need your help."
"Oh!" SCP-2785 said, feeling the excitement creeping in, "What do you need help with?"
"You probably haven't seen a lot of people in a while. We're looking for people too. If you c-"
"Yes, yes, yes!" replied SCP-2785 before they could even finish.
One seagull looked at the other one, muttered something in their obscure language and nodded.
"Good," wrote the seagull in front, "come with us to the tower."
"But what about Crar?" said SCP-2785, pointing to him, still following with the leash.
The front seagull looked at the other one with a nervous look. "We're going to have to leave him here." he wrote, "I'm sorry, but we can't bring him to the Site. I don't think you'll understand— there's so much we need to tell you— but if we bring him to the site, it'll compromise everything we've worked for. It's either him or us."
SCP-2785 looked over to the seagulls. They wore neat lab coats and looked at him with focused eyes, and had beaks instead of mouths. He tried to imagine one of the seagulls smiling, but his imagination was weak and he couldn't. He looked back to Crar, with his ruffled brown hair, beady eyes, and tight-lipped mouth. He'd never seen him smile, but would he? Eventually?
He looked back to the seagulls, and back to Crar. SCP-2785 had made a promise to the seagulls, but could he really leave Crar behind? After everything that they'd been through?
After some deliberation, he decided to make a choice.
"I'll come with you." he said to the seagulls, while cutting Crar's leash off. It felt like SCP-2785 was cutting his own wires. Crar stood up, screeched one final time, and went off into the forest.
"Good," the front seagull wrote, "come with us to the Site. It's in the tower up there."
As he began to leave with the seagulls, SCP-2785 looked back to Crar, the last friend that he might ever make. He hadn't seen another human who wasn't asleep in his entire journey. Trying to shove the thoughts of Crar down deep inside himself, SCP-2785 turned back around and continued to approach the spire.
Revision #322 of this document was prepared by:
THE FOUNDATION AVIAN DIVISION
In accordance with the Pluto Protocol
Note: By order of Dr. Frederick Hoygull, the clearance level required to access this file has been lowered from 5/ETHICS clearance to 1/GENERAL clearance, due to its relevance to the ongoing BE-Class "Migration" Scenario.
Item #: SCP-3296
Object Class: Thaumiel Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: The remains of SCP-3296 are to be left in orbit. Retrieval of SCP-3296 will occur when more pressing matters are resolved.
Description: SCP-3296 refers to two related components: a man-made satellite in Earth's orbit (SCP-3296-A) and the organism contained within (SCP-3296-B). Both components were created by the Foundation in the year of 2000 under the Milliard Project and launched into orbit on 09/08/2000.
SCP-3296-A is equipped with all faculties required to sustain a human subject indefinitely. The most important of these systems are the food fabricators and water recyclers, capable of using waste products of SCP-3296-B to produce consumable food and water. An air recycler is also equipped in the cabin to maintain an oxygen supply. SCP-3296-A's systems are also able to fabricate high-density vitamin pills to encourage health in SCP-3296-B. In addition, a console allows communication between SCP-3296-B and the Foundation. Two high-efficiency solar panels are attached to SCP-3296-A in order to power these systems.
SCP-3296-B is a human subject which operates SCP-3296-A. SCP-3296-B has undergone extensive brain surgery reducing their Cognitohazardous Resistance Score to 1.0 x 10-17, making them extremely susceptible to suggestion.
SCP-3296 is presently in mid-Earth orbit. After the events of Incident 3296-23, it is believed that SCP-3296-B is either dead or otherwise unresponsive.
PROJECT MILLIARD
Documentation prepared by Dr. Albert Milliard, present Department Head of Project Heimdall.
Abstract: It has been known for a long time that humans have the ability to influence the Hume field. This is exemplified by reality benders, who are able to manipulate the Hume field to such a level as to bend reality itself. However, recently it was discovered that this also works the opposite way. Humans are able to detect changes in the Hume field, even if they didn't make them themselves.
Of course, this is often a very subtle effect that we don't notice in the course of our lifetimes. But, given the correct brain surgery and conditions, we can make a human as receptive to these phenomena as a sixth sense.
Project Milliard is the Foundation Aeronautics Division's attempt to create an early-warning system to detect potential attacks from Interspace Entities, or IE's. IE's are entities or artifacts in outer space that pose a threat to Earth, primarily in the form of reality-bending abilities. An example of an IE is SCP-3485. It is believed that SCP-3485 accomplishes many of its feats through low-level reality-bending abilities, and it is also believed that SCP-3485 has the ability to transport itself to Earth, which would crush it in its gravitational field. However, if Project Milliard is in use, the Foundation would be not only able to detect IE's before they attack, but also detect future extranormal events on Earth.
Procedure:
1). Construct a satellite capable of permanently sustaining a human subject in mid-Earth orbit.
2). Isolate a subject matching conditions to undergo Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL. A full list of conditions is in Document MILLIARD-ASTRAL-458. To summarize:
- Subject's brain must match Relative Brain Structure #3UAC at least 97%.
- Subject must have been born in a sterile environment.
- Subject must not have any history of disease.
- Subject must be between 1 and 18 months of age.
- Subject must not be an instance of SCP-1719-1.
- Subject must not be an instance of SCP-3909-A.
- Subject's mother must not be alive.
For protocols relating to the acquisition of this subject, see Document PRO-MILLIARD-GAMMA-23.
3). Selected subject will undergo Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL. This involves heavy brain surgery, administration of several classes of mnestic/hallucinogenic products, and artificial aging of the subject using hormone techniques previously used in Bright-Zartion Humanoid Replicators. Full details of Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL are restricted to essential surgical professionals involved in Project Milliard and Ethics Committee chairman2. It is of note that, due to the conditions under which the subjects are acquired, Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL has a 9% success rate. Multiple subjects may be necessary for this step.
4). Once preparation of the subject has been completed, they will be attached to the satellite component and launched into space. This launch is to be undertaken by a Foundation front company, and a cover story stating that the launch's purpose was to launch a satellite into orbit is to be implemented into all official records.
5). Communication will be established at Foundation Secure Site-23.
TO: pcs.noitadnuof|ce.notlet#pcs.noitadnuof|ce.notlet
FROM: pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj#pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj
CC: pcs.noitadnuof|draillima#pcs.noitadnuof|draillima, pcs.noitadnuof|vrestsil-ce#pcs.noitadnuof|vrestsil-ce
SUBJECT: Re: Ethics Committee Vote - Project Milliard
Dear Chairman Elton,
I would like to raise objections to Project Milliard. The issue I take with Project Milliard lies in the fact that the subject needed for the project is required to be "between 1 and 18 months of age". In my somewhat limited medical knowledge, I do not see the reason why we need several infant subjects, rather than several grown subjects. In addition, we're also going to age them artificially later on, so I assume that this is redundant and unnecessary. Is there a reason that I'm not seeing?
Thanks for your time,
- John K. Paulos, PhD
TO: pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj#pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj
FROM: pcs.noitadnuof|draillima#pcs.noitadnuof|draillima
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Ethics Committee Vote - Project Milliard
Dr. Paulos,
I believe I can answer this question. Essentially, in order for Project Milliard to function properly, the subject needs to be fully loyal to the Foundation. Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL makes the subject extremely suggestible, and even the slightest amount of bias can cause the subject to switch to somebody else's side. There's another reason for it, although it's quite complicated.
Now, you know everybody has a brain. Pretend like each brain is built in a completely different way, but there are two types of brains that mostly everybody's resembles: Type A and Type B. In order for Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL to work correctly, we need a Type B brain. As for why we need them to be young, well, the hallucinogenics required to implant memories of complete loyalty simply work better when they're young. We can't guarantee full viability in an older subject.
I hope that answers your questions.
- Milliard
TO: pcs.noitadnuof|draillima#pcs.noitadnuof|draillima
FROM: pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj#pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Ethics Committee Vote - Project Milliard
Dear Dr. Milliard,
I think I have found a solution to this problem that doesn't require the dulling process described earlier. First, we identify a Type B subject among our current pool of D-class personnel. Then, we give them a strong dosage of Class-F amnestics and personality restructuring agents, essentially destroying the subject's long-term memory and personality.
Then, we continue with the hallucinogenic agent treatment and MILLIARD-ASTRAL, until the subject is suitable for use in Project Milliard. Using this method, rather than using anywhere from 3-10 infant lives (depending on the success rate of the procedure), we will only have to use one of our already-condemned D-class personnel.
Thank you for your consideration,
- John K. Paulos, PhD
TO: pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj#pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj
FROM: pcs.noitadnuof|draillima#pcs.noitadnuof|draillima
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Re: Re: Ethics Committee Vote - Project Milliard
Dr. Paulos,
As much as I would like to take these actions, there are some problems.
First of all, the personality restructuring agents that are currently in the Foundation's possession irreversibly damage the frontal lobe, which needs to be intact in order for Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL to take place.
Secondly, simply due to the nature of the Type B brain, Class-F amnestic treatment is impossible. You see, Type B brains are actually more resistant to the chemical treatment, making amnestic treatment difficult. However, this resistance is developed in the late 20's, meaning that younger subjects are more easily treated with amnestic compounds.
Thirdly, we are unlikely to find a Type B brain in any D-class. In most cases, Type-B subjects are orderly and tend to be lawful or submissive. Most of these people are not D-class and are therefore out of our reach.
Again, my sincerest apologies.
- Milliard
TO: pcs.noitadnuof|ce.notlet#pcs.noitadnuof|ce.notlet
FROM: pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj#pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj
CC: pcs.noitadnuof|draillima#pcs.noitadnuof|draillima, pcs.noitadnuof|vrestsil-ce#pcs.noitadnuof|vrestsil-ce
SUBJECT: Objection to Project Milliard
Dear Chairman Elton,
With all due respect, I fail to see the purpose of Project Milliard.
There isn't a purpose that Project Milliard fulfills that isn't already fulfilled by our CK-Class scenario detectors or the observation network we already have throughout the internet. Almost all anomalies currently in containment are protected under these two programs.
As for the Interspace Entities, we already have enough of a weapons payload to blow them out of the sky, if need be. I won't worry.
Sincerely,
- John K. Paulos, PhD
TO: pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj#pcs.noitadnuof|soluapkj
FROM: pcs.noitadnuof|ce.notlet#pcs.noitadnuof|ce.notlet
CC: pcs.noitadnuof|draillima#pcs.noitadnuof|draillima, pcs.noitadnuof|vrestsil-ce#pcs.noitadnuof|vrestsil-ce
SUBJECT: Re: Objection to Project Milliard
To Dr. Paulos,
I've attached last year's containment breach statistics to this email. The important detail is what, exactly, caused these containment breaches. Out of the 41 containment breaches we had in 2017, three were caused by gross negligence. Five were caused by equipment failure. Seven were caused by improperly documenting and/or classifying anomalies. The remainder were caused by unexpected behavior on the part of hostile reality-bending entities.
You must realize that rendering several people comatose is far outweighed by the potential to stop these breaches before they happen. Yes, we have CSD's and all the other paratech. But it still isn't enough.
We have to weigh the costs here, Paulos. If taking an infant straight from their mother is the only way, it's the only way.
- Elton
Addendum 01: Result of Ethics Committee Vote on Project Milliard
ETHICS COMMITTEE VOTE
Project Milliard has been approved by order of the Ethics Committee.
Subject acquisition under MILLIARD-ASTRAL-23 will begin on 06/22/2000.
Launch of Project Milliard scheduled for 09/01/2000.
To whom it may concern,
As of the time of this writing, I am officially resigning from the Ethics Committee. It's come to my attention that actions that are clearly cruel and unnecessary have been approved by a majority consensus of the Committee. I cannot be a part of a body that approves these actions and still live with a good conscience. Retirement is the only option for me.
In addition, I will also resign from any other duties I currently hold in the Foundation, save for those required under Severence Package 09. I have already prepared a replacement for myself on the Ethics Committee, so this transition should be seamless.
I bid all of my colleagues a final farewell. You were all great people to work with.
- John K. Paulos, PhD
Editor's Note: Additionally, the following document was recovered from a deepwell server in Site-01 during our scavenging of the area. Cognitohazardous language has been removed.
To the O5 Council,
I am retiring. However, in reality, I will continue to perform my duties for the Foundation.
I volunteer myself to be the subject for Project Milliard. I've had the necessary tests preformed on me, and I match all conditions required for the subject, including general brain structure. If you look at my disciplinary record, I believe that I have no marks whatsoever. On pain of termination, I swear that I am completely loyal to the Foundation and that I will remain loyal to the Foundation for the remainder of my lifespan. In addition, due to my maturity, there is a higher likelihood that Procedure MILLIARD-ASTRAL will succeed.
Thank you for your consideration,
- John K. Paulos, PhD
Addendum 02: 09/30/2000 Progress Report of Project Milliard
PROJECT STATUS
Project Milliard subject (Name: ████ ██████, Designation: SCP-3296-B) has been successfully prepared.
Project Milliard satellite (Designation: SCP-3296-A) has been launched into Mid-Earth orbit.
As per O5 Order #4545 ("Classification of Thaumiel-class Projects"), Project Milliard and all associated components have been classified as SCP-3296. Project Milliard has been deemed successful.
SPECIAL ADDENDUM 3296.1: Incident Report 3296-Alpha
On 06/20/2018, the Avian Division noted a series of messages found within databanks at Site-54, dated to 05/11/2018. These messages are believed to have originated from SCP-3296. Transcripts of these messages are recorded below:
I'm awake now. I assume this was successful?
I see space outside the window. Does this even have windows?
I get a lot of time to think out here. How many stars do you think there are?
I see red splotches in Kansas3. I haven't even heard of Kansas before.
Secure, contain, protect.
Blue all across Florida. Might be your time to shine.
There's a red dot in Canada that just keeps getting bigger. It looks angry.
A giant black line is racing at you from the stars. Are you OK?
You are OK.
There's some yellow goo that's spreading all over America, and there's some in Europe too.
Are you OK? The yellow goo is getting bigger.
The yellow goo is snapping at me. Please send help.
Please send help.
Are you there?
A bird came down and tried to eat me. The invisible hand of something swatted it away. I don't know if I'm lucky or not.
The bird came down again and it picked me up and dropped me somewhere and now my legs are broken. Are they? How can I still move them?
The bird is still attacking me it hits me around like a bowling pin if your there please help
Im breaking up up here
The birds cry has destroyed me ears and now i cant hear the world anymore i cant help you now
requesting extraction
god is dead and birds killed him
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Limited analysis of the SCP-3296 capsule orbiting Earth has revealed a lack of life signs, save for several feathers attached to the exterior of SCP-3296-A. SCP-3296-B's messages are believed to be related to the containment breach of EoI-121 and SCP-3662. SCP-3296 has been reclassified as Neutralized.
ANALYSIS OF ANOMALY
We have analyzed the interviews with subjects that come out of SCP-3662. Though all of their experiences vary wildly, there has been an interesting constant. All subjects have reported seeing a large bird, often orange in coloration. This includes subjects who were avid bird watchers to subjects who lived in areas without an abundance of birds.
We haven't been able to isolate what, exactly, the bird is. However, recent subjects have reported that it's getting larger, and one subject even reported being attacked by it. We're still trying to figure out what this means, and the interviews are still in progress.
- Researcher C. Calvin
Sergeant Michael talked softly to the D-class subject. She had just exited SCP-3662 and entered the body of another D-class, and he wanted to know what, exactly, went on in SCP-3662.
"So," Sergeant Michael said, making sure not to raise his voice, "try to describe your experience inside of the device."
"It was like a black, blank void," said the young woman in an even softer voice, "sort of like a raven's coat of feathers. Do you like birds, sir?"
"Yes, yes I do," Sergeant Michael said. He thought that it might have been slightly odd that she brought up birds; didn't she get attacked by one? At least, that's what she said in the other interview. These kinds of anomalies rarely had any consistent rules. He decided to ignore it and continue his questioning.
After the interview was done, Michael said his goodbyes and left the room. On his way out, he ran into one of his old friends, Dr. Marco.
"Hey there, pal," said Dr. Marco, "how was the interview?"
"Meh," Sergeant Michael replied, "now if you'll excuse me, I have to take my leave. Early bird gets the worm, you know what they say!"
Dr. Marco chuckled a little bit. "Oh, you!" Dr. Marco was an avid bird watcher, and Sergeant Michael liked fun of that fact.
Dr. Marco eventually clocked out and went home to his wife, with whom he talked about a bird he saw on the way home that had blue and black stripes. Mrs. Marco pretended to be interested in his hobby before going to bed. In the morning, Mrs. Marco met with her book club and talked somewhat excessively over the birds and the symbolism in To Kill a Mockingbird. Everybody went home to their husbands, and talked about some bird related subject.
"Ma'am, there's something wrong with my monitor."
"What do you mean?" Technical Assistant Marie walked over to the research assistant's cubicle. As expected, the young man was browsing Twitter. She was supposed to issue reprimands for this, but at this point, she was more apathetic than not.
"As you can see," the research assistant continued, "there's a smudge on my monitor. I've tried to wipe it off, but it's stuck. I think it's somehow in the computer."
Marie leaned over and looked at the monitor. A user had taken a picture of a rather non-photogenic bluebird. Marie scrolled up, and the blur stuck to the picture.
Marie's expression changed from pure disinterest to that of concern. She took out a cell phone and dialed a number. "Hello, site command? Could you please seal off Computer Center 26, Hall 3, please? We've got a meme in here and I think we've all been exposed."
This was the life for Sam. Sitting on the dock, smelling the lake, and fishing with his best friend, George. He couldn't have asked for a better vacation.
"We're blessed in this life, right, George?" said Sam.
"Uh-huh. I love the birds here" replied George.
After a short silence, George made another comment. "Boy, we haven't seen a fish in hours. Where do you think they all are?"
"I wish I could catch birds with this pole" replied George.
"Say, what's with birds, today?" question Sam, "It's all you've been talking about since we got here."
"What can I say? I guess I'm a bit bird-brained."
Sam chuckled. "Alright, you know that was terrible."
"Hey, I like terrible jokes too. You know, birds of a feather flock together."
Sam chuckled again and said no more. He continued to fish, but he paid a little extra attention to the flock of birds flying overhead.
Dr. Frederick Hoygull, despite the fact that he was a bird, had earned a PhD and a well-paying research position in the SCP Foundation. Hoygull wasn't his real name, which didn't roll off the tongue; one of his colleagues had given him the name of Hoygull at one point, and it stuck. Right now, Dr. Hoygull was sitting across from Site Director Browning as he jabbed his finger at a multicolored map.
"All of the red dots," Director Browning yelled, "are people we know are infected. Now, if the agents had done the quarantine properly, all of the dots would be here." Director Browning pointed at a significant cluster of dots around the town of Wakeford. "However, some chucklefuck didn't do his job, and another chucklefuck posted the meme on the internet, which is why we've got dots all over the goddamn country!"
"Why don't we just quarantine America, then?" replied Hoygull.
"It's too late for that. We've already got reports of infection in Europe and China. This is on the internet now; we can't take this down, at least not alone. So we have to pass this on to our peers in other countries. That's your job. You know about your natural immunity, right?"
Dr. Hoygull nodded. For whatever reason, SCP-3095-1 were not able to catch nor spread the bird meme.
"Get the message out to them. I don't want to lose more personnel, or more importantly, myself, to whatever this thing is."
"Welcome back to CNN. Today, we have some breaking news. Michael?"
"Thank you, Cheryl. Today, an episode of Family Guy titled 'I Dream of Jesus', has been taken down from all streaming services and television rosters. Fox has refused to respond to any contact from CNN about this incident."
Scene cuts to 'I Dream of Jesus'. In this scene, main character Peter Griffin is performing a dance to the tune of The Trashmen's 'Surfin' Bird '. A male voice narrates.
"The episode 'I Dream of Jesus' contains Peter Griffin dancing to a 60's song titled 'Surfin' Bird", before he meets Jesus Christ and turns him into a celebrity. It is unclear whether Fox was under pressure for the inclusion of Christ, or for another reason. However, it is unknown why this happened over ten years after its release, and not earlier."
"Thank you, Bill. What do you thi-"
At this point, Foundation officials detected the presence of SCP-████ in the broadcast, and hijacked broadcast equipment to disrupt the broadcast. Over 1.3 million people are suspected to have been infected. Quarantine operations ongoing.
Gregory sat at the poker table, holding a few cards in his hand. He had a royal flush lined up to be played, and he was trying to read his opponents for anything that might help him in his play. He looked at Kens, who had a pretty good poker face, and was therefore hard to read. He shifted his gaze over to Frank, whose eyes were glazing over as if he was dozing off. Finally, he switched his sights to Donald, who… also seemed to be dozing off.
Looking back to Kens, Gregory saw his eyes were losing focus as well. He stood up; the fish-eyes of his friends followed him. They dropped their cards (which were less than stellar) on the table and stood up with him. Then they started screeching, accompanied by the screeches of people all through the neighborhood.
Gregory instinctively clutched his ears as a million questioning thoughts ran through his head. What are they doing? Why is everybody doing it? Do I hear a bird? What's going on? Are they fucking with me? Why can't I be a bird? Are they hypnotized? Who are the birds? Wh… How can I become a bird? What, exactly, is a bird? Why shouldn't I be a bird?
Gregory felt his eyes losing focus.
"This is your captain speaking. We've just, uh, received an order from the national government. Stay in the air, at all costs, and try to find an uninhabited place to land. Now, uh, we have no idea what's going on on the surface, but, if they're making us, uh, stay up here, it's probably pretty bad. Now, stay on board, and we're going to await further instructions. Thanks for flying Southwest, and we, uh, apologize for this inconvenience."
Sam barricaded the door with the mahogany dining table. He could still hear the incessant screaming of not just his former friend George, but of the thirty or so other people that had begun to roam the area. Was it an overreaction? Possibly. It wasn't like they were doing anything other than screaming. All Sam needed was a pair of headphones to keep it out.
I wonder if the birds are alright…
As Sam realized what he was thinking, he tried to push the thought aside to address more important matters. But it stuck there, like it was bolted to his mind.
Hey, don't they sound kind of like birds?
The second thought then anchored itself into his brain. He tried to move it, but Sam just couldn't stop thinking about how the screaming outside resembled the call of a wild seagull. A third thought arrived that posed the question of whether or not humans were just unwinged birds, and then a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth, until all that was on Gregory's mind was birds.
Gregory felt his eyes lose focus.
Director Browning sat across from twenty-three other suited men at the circular table. Usually, it would be up to the O5 Council this decision; however, the bird meme got spread at one of their meetings. In their absence, the Site Director's Executive Committee of the Whole was the highest authority in the Foundation. These people were the last remnants of the chain of command that had managed to avoid the meme.
"It appears that the meme has somehow been altered to modify the brain chemistry of its infectees," lectured Director Frant while pointing at a diagram, "which is what's causing this behavior. Now, if we look at this diagram…" Frant clicked a button that switched over to a different slide, showing another, similarly colored brain. "This is the brain of a bird. If we compare these two brains together, one can see that they are very, very similar. I submit for your consideration that this meme is transforming people, on a mental level, into birds. Now…" Frant clicked the button again, showing a picture of a crowded street filled with litter and glass from broken windows. "A good portion of humanity appears to just be infected. The remainder are either hiding in their homes, attempting to escape their areas, or going on looting sprees."
Director Browning wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Is the Memetics Division working on a countermeme?"
"I'm afraid there isn't really a Memetics Division anymore," Director Frant replied, "aside from us, we have one hundred, maybe two hundred, researchers and agents under our command. None of them have any training in Memetics whatsoever. At this point, over seventy-five percent of America is infected. It's going to be hard to recover anybody who can work for us, now."
"What about the Avian Division?" Browning replied.
"They're over half of our remaining workforce, and the only ones immune to the avian meme, it seems. They're working double shifts for us, but even then they can only do so much."
A silence crept over the room before Director Moose spoke up. "What's our plan?"
"I don't think we have a plan, at this point," said Director Bright while he was pinching the bridge of his nose, "over half the world is already infected, and I doubt anything we do will help. I'd suggest waiting until certain contingency options are available to us before we take action."
"Are you talking about-" began Director Browning, before realizing the taboo of talking about it aloud, "that could take a thousand years before it's operational again!"
Everybody at the table looked down, despondent. Nothing was left to do.
Tim threw the brick through the window of the supermarket. The police were too busy fending off the hordes of screeching people, and it was pretty obvious that the world was going to shit, so Tim wanted to stockpile enough supplies to live comfortably in his basement for at least until the whole thing blew over to the point where he could get more supplies. As he stepped through the window, he picked up a suitcase and went to work, picking up canned foods, appliances, and weapons before anybody else could get them.
Tim took a bag of sunflower seeds off of the shelf. I wonder if I could feed this to the birds… he thought as he tucked it into his suitcase. Suddenly, he realized that he'd thought about feeding the birds before he thought about feeding himself. I hate birds. he thought to himself, remembering a point in his childhood where a pigeon managed to land a shit on his head. For some reason, that memory seemed almost appealing now.
Assuming that the apocalypse was fucking with his head, Tim quickly shoved the bag in his suitcase and speed-walked away.
Tim stumbled upon the jackpot: a hunting rifle, complete with ammunition and a manual. As he picked it up, he wondered how he could use it to not shoot down the birds.
Once again, Tim stopped himself at that thought. Why am I thinking about birds so much? Because they're cool. Tim ran through a list of reasons why birds were cool in his mind. Resisting was futile; every time he tried to refute a reason, his mind would come back with a greater reason as to why he was wrong.
Tim felt himself starting to caw like a bird, as he felt a talon pushing him far, far back into his mind.
Dr. Frederick Hoygull, head of the Avian Division and therefore the remainder of the Foundation, looked out over what used to be New York City. From a distance, it still looked relatively untouched. Once you got closer, you could see the broken window, turned dumpsters, and broken streetlights left over from some amount of rioting and looting. Then you saw that the people walking the streets wore dirty clothes, and did nothing but screech if you got close to them.
Hoygull sat at a distance from the commotion, next to two of his associates: Linda Duck (despite the fact that she wasn't a duck), and James Crowl.
"Shouldn't it be more crowded?" questioned Crowl.
"I think they're all… migrating, for lack of a better word" replied Hoygull, "I've sent Eta-4 out to try and figure out where they're going. If anything, it looks like they're moving east, for some reason."
"This is bad" commented Duck. He was right.
- Dr. Frederick Hoygull