Per 
Item #: SCP-####
Object Class: Under Consideration
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-#### is currently not contained but is generally compliant and cooperative and may be confined in a standard D-Class Intake unit cell. SCP-#### should be interviewed intermittently, repetitively if necessary, to forestall boredom. SCP-#### is not to be assigned Site duties without consulting the 05 Council. SCP-#### may be issued antianxiety medication upon request but under no circumstances should SCP-#### be offered alcoholic beverages.
Upon identification of SCP-####, the Site Director must ensure that the following procedures are implemented:
1. Communications shall be locked down in and out of the Site, except as directed below.
2. Administration of amnestics shall be restricted except as in accordance with Ethics Committee regulations.
3. D-class personnel shall be audited for clothing needs. Where possible, upgraded uniforms shall be provided. Under no circumstances shall D-class personnel be left wearing clothing retained from prior incarceration, clothing which shows significant wear patterns, damage, or stains, or clothing which does not fit.
4. The Site Director shall interface with local administrators as necessary to ensure D-class rations meet or exceed recognized dietary requirements.
5. D-class personnel operating in hazardous or semi-hazardous environments are to be outfitted with standard personal protective equipment such as gloves, reflective vests, hearing and eye protection, and steel-toed boots. This policy shall extend to resources required in any OSHA-regulated area of employment; for example, kitchen workers shall be outfitted with aprons and nonslip footgear. The Site Director shall personally inspect all D-class personnel for adherence to safety regulations.
6. Terminations of D-class personnel, whether scheduled or ad hoc, are to be postponed unless postponement will lead to XK-class scenarios. Problematic D-class personnel are to be heavily sedated as necessary.
7. Immediately upon recognition of SCP-####, or the possibility of positive recognition (see “Description” below) the Site Director shall directly contact the 05 Council by reaching out to Dr.█████, Mr. █████, or Count █████, or by calling the Hotline at 1.800.███.████.
Description: SCP-#### is a human male of European descent. SCP-#### may be identified by significant healed injury to the right hand, caused by weapons misfire prior to incarceration. Scarring and nerve damage to this hand has led to Injury-induced Hand Dominance Transfer (the individual has become left-handed.) The individual is capable of fine motor dexterity, and can draw and write, with his left hand. The individual will also complain of Number Memory Aphasia, which he blames on the use of amnestics. The individual will self-identify as D-class personnel but will not be able to account for his recent past or D-number.
Interview Log SCP-####-01A: D-####, located in an Intake unit cell at Site-AA. Interview took place in cell.
Interviewer: Agent Gabriel
Agent Gabriel: We’re having trouble figuring out how you got here. You don’t remember?
D-####: That’s what you get from dosing people with amnestics all the time. You guys way over-use that stuff, every time somebody steps out of line they get rebooted. Buncha crap.
Agent Gabriel: You don’t remember where you were assigned before? Your number?
D-####: The last number you gave me? I don’t fucking know. I barely remember six years of my life since I signed on with you people. Look at me, I’m an old man now. I have grey in my beard now. I do, don’t I? Tell me. I was fifteen years old when I started with the Foundation.
Agent Gabriel: Okay, let’s try what you do remember. What’s your name?
D-####: Oh, I don’t go by that anymore. I’m just a number, whatever number you give me. I left that behind.
Agent Gabriel: What’s your name, old timer?
D-####: I was Matthew Spanner then.
Agent Gabriel: Where?
D-####: Psychiatric unit. Central Florida. The judge said I couldn’t have a trial until my sanity had been restored. I couldn’t participate in my own defense, see, so they put me in a locked ward and dosed me up with medications. Recruiter came in and said he’d get me out, send me to do science, and I wouldn’t have to look at people in the courtroom. Staged a fire, they said. Parents got to believe I burned to death. Relief probably. Judge probably got a kickback. I don’t go there no more.
Agent Gabriel: Right, so maybe I can pick up the thread at your first posting. Where was that?
D-####: My first assignment was SCP-XXXX.
Agent Gabriel: SCP-XXXX?
D-####: They sent me in SCP-XXXX in my psych unit pyjamas and flip-flops.
Agent Gabriel: ….You survived?
D-####: Worst thing about this gig is the clothes. We all gonna die. D-class just hasn’t got the illusions you do. But you ain’t gotta remind us of that. Admin has got D-class guys still wearing whatever they had on when they got pulled out of the prisons or wherever. Guys wearing dirty old rags. It’s like you want us to know that we’re not worth a pair of pants and a shirt.
Agent Gabriel: How the fuck did you survive in SCP-####?
D-####: Because I didn’t panic. I couldn’t panic. I was dosed to the gills with psychiatric medication, the same stuff that calmed me down after they pulled me out of the school. It took like six days for that shit to wear off. By the time it wore off I had figured it out.
Agent Gabriel: ‘Figured it out?’ Figured out what?
D-####: The SCP, man. I solved the SCP. You call Dr. █████. He’ll tell you. My work was groundbreaking.
Interview Log SCP-####-01B: Dr. █████, by telephone.
Interviewer: Agent Gabriel
Agent Gabriel: Thank you for taking my call. I’m trying to run down the history of a D-class that was assigned to you-
Dr. █████: A D-class? What on Earth for?
Agent Gabriel: He’s slipped through the cracks in the system. Nobody knows how he got here.
Dr. █████: Oh, the bureaucracy.
Agent Gabriel: Anyway, this D-class, he says he was assigned to you at SCP-XXXX.
Dr. █████: I haven’t been at SCP-XXXX in twenty years.
Agent Gabriel: He would have been very young.
Dr. █████:
Agent Gabriel: He says he survived in SCP-XXXX for six days.
Dr. █████: He survived for longer than that.
Agent Gabriel: You remember him then?
Dr. █████: It might have been twelve days, even two weeks. Jesus, it went on forever. He’s still alive? My god. He must be the oldest D-class on Earth. Yes, he was on the other end of the communicator with me. I had to sit there and listen to him talk. Usually the communicators stop working once the survey units get so far into the anomaly. With him, they did, but sometimes communication would be reestablished—usually in the middle of the night, when I was trying to sleep, or once when we were about to leave for R-and-R. I couldn’t leave. I had to sit there and listen to him prattle on.
Agent Gabriel: He said he solved it.
Dr. █████: Solved what?
Agent Gabriel: The SCP.
Dr. █████: Oh my God he solved no such fucking thing. Solved the SCP! He’s as crazy as ever. You have no idea what it was like. Listening to hours and days of the babbling of a deranged adolescent. All about the computer games he liked to play. I was praying he would die of thirst and then he found a well.
Agent Gabriel: A well?
Dr. █████: I believe he liked it. He thanked me for sending him in the SCP.
Agent Gabriel: This wasn’t in the file.
Dr. █████: Do you really expect researchers to type up two weeks of radio chatter for every moron that goes into a cave? Look, just shoot him. Put him out of your misery now, before the paperwork metastasizes. I’ve got to go, I’ve got important work to do.
Interview Log SCP-####-02A: D-####, arrived via Federation intersite transport with transferred D-class. Interview conducted in Quarantine unit in Site-BB.
Interviewer: Agent Cassiel
Agent Cassiel: We got through to the other agent you mentioned and he does remember you, so there’s that. Can I get you anything, did they feed you on the bus?
D-####: They did not feed us on the bus and they didn’t give me a whole lot at the last place.
Agent Cassiel: I’ll have them send you something.
D-####: You’re a class act ma’am. That is how to tell you’re at a real shitty Site or SCP location.
Agent Cassiel: If the food isn’t good?
D-####: The food is never good. Nobody expects the food to be good. I mean if there’s not enough of it. You know the kitchen guy is pocketing a percentage or whatever, if you’re eating ketchup sandwiches three meals a day, and if the kitchen guy is getting over then it’s a sure bet the Site Director isn’t running a tight ship. And if the Site Director is letting shit slide, well….
Agent Cassiel: It rolls downhill?
D-####: Guess who’s at the bottom of the hill.
Agent Cassiel: The reason I wanted to talk to you is that the last agent said he started to work on your file and that you were at SCP-XXXX. That was your first assignment?
D-####: That’s right.
Agent Cassiel: He said you survived it. He said you ‘solved’ it.
D-####: That’s true.
Agent Cassiel: How?
D-####: Oh, it’s in the file. I told Dr. █████everything I did.
Agent Cassiel: Okay, I don’t think they understood it or something-
D-####: Just like a computer game. You know what SCP-XXXX is? It’s a geometry shifter. It changes shape, buildings move around, distances change, yada yada yada. Like a third of the SCPs are geometry shifters or have some of the symptoms of geometry shifting. XXXX happens to be an easy one. It doesn’t go into the Z coordinates, the tile set is finite- The tile set is always finite, but at XXXX it’s really limited, and there’s no monsters. It’s just a bunch of buildings in an underground city, moving around. And like all geometry shifters it never, ever, shifts when you’re looking at it.
Agent Cassiel:
D-####: I told them all this.
Agent Cassiel: How?
D-####: ‘How?’ Who cares? Nobody gives a shit about how. D-class, anyway. The scientists break their brains figuring out how. D-class has to anticipate the actor’s moves.
Agent Cassiel: Yes, well, I think it’s the actor that the scientists are trying to understand.
D-####: Big mistake. The actor’s like a two-year-old banging on a piano keyboard. You’re hearing a bunch of notes and listening for a song. There’s never going to be a song, a rhythm, a melody. The actor may be more like wind blowing on wind chimes for all I know. The important thing is to figure your location in the maze. The maze shifts; you don’t shift. In most of them, I mean, you don’t move. The walls move when they’re out of sight; you come down one tunnel and it’s full of pipes and when you try to go back it’s a corridor of file cabinets, and it’s half as long and goes in a different direction. People panic and run and die of thirst or the monsters get them. But a lot of them aren’t even that far into the maze when they freak out. At SCP-XXXX I was able to navigate based on the radio. The radio quit working every time I got more than four hundred feet from the entrance. The solution? Stay within radio range. As long as I could hear them talking it didn’t matter where the walls were. I’d get through sooner or later.
Agent Cassiel: Okay, well, uh…. This isn’t helping me find your file. Where else were you assigned?
D-####: I was with Eliminations, later, for a long time.
Agent Cassiel: What did you eliminate?
D-####: False positives. Foundation gets a lot of bullcrap reports. Anomalies, aliens, whatever. Most of the time it’s a serial killer or swamp gas or kids making up stories. Somebody has to go in and stump around in the swamp and prove it’s not whatever, supernatural or whatever.
Agent Cassiel: That sounds easy.
D-####: Easy?
Agent Cassiel: Safer, anyway.
D-####: It was dangerous. One time they sent me in a cave. Up in Canada, where it’s snow and ice all the time. Cave in the snow going down under the permafrost. No maze, just one tunnel getting deeper and deeper and steeper and steeper. You ever hear the phrase, a slippery slope? This was a real slippery slope. Muddy. You get deep enough nothing ever freezes, see, the Earth keeps it warm. It smelled so bad in there. I begged and cried. All I wanted was a mask. Told them I couldn’t stand the smell. I’d go in there if they gave me a mask for the smell. Just stopped halfway and cried. You got to get me a mask, I said. Finally they threw a mask down the hole. It just happened to be the kind of mask with an oxygen bottle; otherwise I’d’a died. Cause why?
Agent Cassiel: The air?
D-####: No circulation at the bottom of a hole. Dead folks, and animals, rotting away, used up all the oxygen. Anybody that went in after that died of suffocation. The Foundation is always getting people killed through little shit. I mean the kind of thing that could get fixed or prevented for five dollars. Just basic mandatory minimums. Safety goggles, a piece of rope, that sort of thing. You go over to the reactor right now? Going to be a bunch of Ds mopping up radioactive discharge in slip-on shoes, I guarantee it.
Agent Cassiel: What makes you think there’s a reactor?
D-####: There’s always a reactor. And the discharge. And the shoes. Every time.
Interview Log SCP-####-02B: Site Director Jujarti, assigned to SCP-1555, by telephone.
Interviewer: Agent Cassiel
Agent Cassiel: I’m trying to find out about a D-class that was assigned to your site-
Site Director Jujarti: We don’t currently have any D-class here. I’ve requested some more and they may be in transit. How long ago did your man go out?
Agent Cassiel: Not out—he was brought to here and his description of his previous posting matches your site.
Site Director Jujarti: No, we haven’t transferred any D-class back out.
Agent Cassiel: He calls it ‘Mouse Mountain’ and says he was sent inside.
Site Director Jujarti: Is he there? Let me talk to him.
D-####: Hello?
Site Director Jujarti: What’s your D-class code number?
D-####: The fuck if I know. You people have dosed me with amnestics until I barely remember which end of my cock the piss comes out of. Is this Jujarti? We met. I was the guy that wanted you to get a plumber.
Site Director Jujarti: Yes, I remember you. You were sent to draw a map of the facility.
D-####: That mountain needs a mapmaker like a cat needs a calendar. Okay, look. What you’ve got there isn’t that bad. It’s just big, that’s all.
Site Director Jujarti: Did you find out about the mice?
D-####: The mice? The mice are test subjects. It isn’t that weird. Look, you have two things. First, you have a big secret underground base that was built to test what was it, a cannon, and they were test-firing it and they wanted to measure, I don’t know, the acceleration, so they loaded the cannon shells with mice to see if the mice died. The mice were like their D-class.
Site Director Jujarti: There are no records of construction. We would know-
D-####: It may have been in another universe then. Now, second, you have an actor.
Site Director Jujarti: An entity?
D-####: If it were an entity it would be conscious, right? It may not be conscious. It may be just a collection of reflexes, or maybe it acts like a computer program. It might be like wind or water moving.
Site Director Jujarti: Were you able to make contact with it?
D-####: I don’t think it’s anything that thinks like a person. These things hardly ever do. So at some point this whatever, the actor, got into the cannon place. Maybe it was under the mountain and people dug down and awoke it. It’s still there. It’s moving around, and it’s gotten the place stirred up, but it doesn’t know what it’s doing. I mean it knows that stairs are different from escalators, but it doesn’t have legs so it doesn’t know what either of them are for. It puts stairs over here, and maybe that doesn’t feel right, so after awhile it tries moving them off to the other side. Copies offices over here, pastes labs here, moves them all around. It may not even know that people are in there or what people are.
Site Director Jujarti: I see.
D-####: You’re just lucky you haven’t had any monsters take up residence.
Site Director Jujarti: How’d you get out?
D-####: Figured you transferred me. Amnestics, you know.
Site Director Jujarti: Okay, thanks! Put the girl back on the phone, please.
Agent Cassiel: Hello?
Site Director Jujarti: Is he nice?
Agent Cassiel: He’s been cooperative.
Site Director Jujarti: Can you terminate him?
Agent Cassiel: That’s been tried.
Site Director Jujarti: Will he take pills?
Agent Cassiel: I believe so.
Site Director Jujarti: Get him sedated and into a cyro tank. Freeze him, but don’t let him die.
Interview Log SCP-####-03: D-####, located via D-class transponder signal at decommissioned Site-CC. Interview conducted in vehicle storage/maintenance building.
Interviewer: Lt. Hunder, Mobile Task Force Kappa-12 “Body Horror”
Lt. Hunder: Hey, are you the guy?
D-####: I’m a guy.
Lt. Hunder: They said there was a D-class they wanted me to come and pick up.
D-####: Must be me, I’m the only one here. Whole place is deserted.
Lt. Hunder: What are you doing here?
D-####: I dunno. Amnestics fucked up my memory. I must have got left behind. This place has been closed awhile. You MTF?
Lt. Hunder: Yeah.
D-####: What’s your unit?
Lt. Hunder: Kappa-12.
D-####: I’ll never remember that—what’s the code name?
Lt. Hunder: ‘Paul Revere.’
D-####: You taking me to a beer party, Paul?
Lt. Hunder: ‘Beer party?’
D-####: Yeah, I said a beer party, man. Is that what they told you to do to me?
Lt. Hunder: I don’t know anything about a beer party. I don’t have any beer.
D-####: You new to this, man?
Lt. Hunder: I was working for the Sheriff's office, in Alameda, just about six weeks ago-
D-####: A beer party is what they do with the D-class when the job gets done. Like, ‘Get all these bodies on the trucks and we’ll take you to a beer party.’ The beer party’s in a hanger or down on the beach. Only there’s no beer and they spray everybody down with machine guns.
Lt. Hunder: Woah.
D-####: Yeah, so. I don’t give a shit. You MTF got a higher death ratio than us D-class. They didn’t tell you that, did they? You guys die all the time. Only Operational Security has a higher KIA rate. Just want you to know, I ain’t going to no fucking beer party.
Lt. Hunder: Can I ask you a question?
D-####: Sure, why not?
Lt. Hunder: Well, they sent me your file. It says you’re a human male of European descent.
D-####:
Lt. Hunder: Because you’re not.
D-####:
Lt. Hunder: I mean, you’re a black guy now.
