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On one fine morning, the flowers were singing, the birds were…also singing, and Fred was riding a carriage to the guillotine. “Why the hey is there an eighteenth century execution method here in modern Earth?” he asked unhappily.

“I have absolutely no idea,” said a guard who was examining one of the singing flowers. “I also don’t care, because I just downloaded a new battle royale game where you get to blow all of your cash on building forts during the period of time between sunset to sunrise. Now I am completely broke.”

The carriage stopped and Fred was pushed forward. “Hey Fred. Jailbird Freddy Fred. Ready steady getty a teddy called Freddy my friend. How would you like to get used in experiments, deal with dangerous and anomalous objects, and then die?” Fred looked up. A doctor was speaking to him. He had on a nametag that read, “Dr. Fluffyfluf.”

“Are you a rapper?” asked Fred.


“Okay,” shrugged Fred. “Sure. Why not?”

3.1415926 hours later in a facility in redactedland, Dr. Fluffyfluf was busy telling the new D-Classes what they were supposed to do. “Well dudes, it’s time to do some tests,” Dr. Fluffyfluf finished.

“But I didn’t study,” whined Fred.

Dr. Fluffyfluf stared at him. “That was honestly the worst joke I’ve heard all week,” he finally said.

Log of Exploration V of SCP-087
Fred stared at Dr. Fluffyfluf. “Let me get this straight. You want me to walk down an infinite number of stairs and tell you what’s at the bottom of them?”

The doctor thought for a moment. “Pretty much,” he shrugged.

“But I hate exercise!” Whining, he ran down the stairs.

About thirty flights later, Fred met up with SCP-087-1. “Well shoot,” he said. He contemplated his options. “I guess if I break the law all the time anyway, I might as well try…” And then, in a show of pure bad-assery, Fred broke every single one of the laws of physics and survived falling down an infinite number of stairs.

“Wait, so this is all there is to see down here? Man, that’s kind of disappointing,” Fred frowned.

“Stop..[huff]…right…[huff]…there!” SCP-087-1 paused at the bottom flight, panting. “Do you have any idea how much I have to run to get from up there to down here?”

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of your fault for living in a place that has an infinite number of stairs, so don’t complain about the exercise. Also, what the heck is ‘down here?’”

“To your first comment, I’m only staying here because I don’t have to pay rent.” SCP-087-1 scowled. “And as for the second comment, this is my house, and you’re breaking and entering!”

“But there is no door.” He stared at SCP-087-1. SCP-087-1 stared at him. The stairs stared at nothing. “By the way, why is there a crying kid down here?”

“I dunno,” SCP-087-1 shrugged. Suspend your disbelief that disembodied faces cannot shrug. “She showed up one day and was too lazy to walk out. And the police are too lazy to walk all the way down here and take her out for breaking and entering.”

“Okay,” said Fred. “What about that lady?” he gestured to the D-class woman lounging on the sofa. “Did she fall down here, too?”

“Nah, I just got sent down here and found this place, and then I decided that I might as well stay and completely avoid the monthly termination.”

“Yes, and now SHE WON’T LEAVE.” The very ticked off SCP-087-1 glared at her. “Seriously, the party’s over, people. Get out.”

“Meh,” D-9884 said. The crying girl continued crying. Fred picked his nail. The stairs did nothing.

“That’s it,” SCP-087-1 finally stated. “I’m done here. I’m calling my mom. You took over my house. I hate you.”

And at that moment, the researchers of the Foundation heard a horrible grumbling sound. Dr. Fluffyfluf looked from Fred’s video feed to the other researchers. The other researchers frowned, appearing concerned. And then they saw it, floating down from the clouds. “Holy pumpkin pie in the sky,” muttered Dr. Fluffyfluf. “It’s the stairway to heaven.”

“I’m here, sweetie. What did you call me for?”

Most of the researchers were busy scrambling to contain the new anomaly, but a few of the newer members of the Foundation were staring agape at the figure that had appeared on the ascending stairs. It was a face that lacked pupils and nostrils, and where there should have been a mouth, the face was wearing a smear of lipstick that appeared to have been applied by either a 5-year-old or a being with no arms.

“Mom! These people are bullying me!” SCP-087-1 whined.

“Children! I’m calling your parents. You should be ashamed of yourselves!” the mom face scolded everyone. Dr. Fluffyfluf was frantically attempting to build a containment room around the intruding staircase, which was fairly difficult due to the fact that it extended into the sky infinitely. Fred and D-9884 apologized profusely.

The mom face looked stern. “Now stay away from my darling little offspring,” she nodded.

“We will Mrs. Infinite Stairs,” they dully chorused.

“Good. And sweetie, I brought you a juicebox in case you’re thirsty. I don’t want to hear that you’re getting dehydrated.”

“Thanks mom,” SCP-087-1 mumbled.

“And make sure to clean your room.”


“Good. I love you.” And then it ascended back into the sky. The researchers, agents, and sentient SCPs that had witnessed the spectacle all looked at one another and blinked. Dr. Fluffyfluf kind of just stared blankly at his notes.

At about that moment, Fred finally made it back to the top of the stairs. “Huh,” he stated, “maybe I should try calling my mother.”

In the ensuing chaos D-9884 ended up in Canada, the crying child ended up in the lost city of Atlantis, and Fred ended up falling through a plot hole and was never seen again.