VexWritesSCP-2

Oras' Proposal

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A message for you from you.

Well. Not you you but you know. The other you. The you on the other side of the mirror. The mirror-you that does the exact same as you do. Brushing their teeth, looking up from splashing water in their face, maybe flex if they're that kind of person …
Until you turn your back to them, what do they do now? They live their life. Just like you do. But a different one.
A different life for the same you.

Now thats a lot of you's so lets talk about me.
The James Oras of O657b. To be precise, formerly O657b. Now I and the rest of my humanity lives in I presume V778b ORI. I presume you named it Orasian Reality Index.
I think I know me enough to say that I would be quite fine with naming stuff after me.
If you are reading this then I am either dead or amnesticised to the point where I am somebody else.
All I have done was to protect you and your kind. For your Foundation could develop into something mine could have never been.
Conscientous
My Foundation was never and will never be anything else than malicous. Our Foundation only had a loose sutructure. The O5-Council had almost no grasp of the individual sites and were all corrupt to the point where you could sell a Keter-class object for enough money so they could get a fair share of it. Sites were run almost monarchic by their administrators. MTF squads were sometimes deployed to deal with personal affairs, if not to retrieve sold SCP's. Researchers sometimes used the D-classes for their own leisure, sometimes even putting them through SCP-procedures just because they felt like it. Being a D-class in our reality was worse than being on the death row. It was not a chance, it was a reason to write your testament, not that you would have much to testify.

Walking through the halls of these twisted places of evil has always filled me with disgust. I for sure couldn't quit because then they would have come for my family first, and then for me, and then probably for you. I was waiting for a chance to make them pay for their deeds. Until the day we found a red bus in a barn. I was in the Foundation for a couple of years prior, but I managed to get myself on the project fairly early on. It was like I was made for this bus. Working on it, the equations just appeared in my head like someone had already solved them for me.
Almost every morning I looked into the mirror and had a new idea, new ideas on how to use this new thing we found, what I could learn from it.
But you and me know what they would've done with it. So I made myself important. The scientists from my Foundation were a bit simple. Give them something of enough value and they were as dumb as you wanted them to be. Noone in the Foundation had as much experience in the field as I did, they relied on me. And that was my time to shine.
I was amazed of what I could do, what potential I had with the knowledge this bus had to offer. I built them Transporters, Weapons, an armor plating that let bullets just disappear before hitting their targets. Promising stuff, right? Thats what they thought too. Most of the things I developed blew up in their faces. I always told them that there was the risk, a high chance that this won't work at all. But they didn't care. As long as it sounded like they could make more money with it, they used it. They were more like a simple Cartel than an advanced-humanity saving organisation. It never felt right to me.

Then I built them the trans-reality-rift. I knew this was where I must succeed. Although they tried out the equipment I gave them, they were growing impatient of my failures. If I couldn't do this right, I could've just shot myself immediatly.
And it worked. The portal was stable, traversible and worked both ways. But it had its limits. It could not be held open for longer than 38 minutes, and was not larger than maybe 4 by 4 meters. I told them that was the best I could do with my team, but there was a way to stabilise the portal so this could fit entire buildings and be held open indefinetly. Although you would need something else for this, something like a gateway. I didn't tell them that, but more on that later.

Going forward just a few weeks. I witnessed the biggest proof of karma that exists.

We were monitoring SCP-XXXX as usual. The object had just exited one of its transportation phases, as a power outage blacked out our equipment, including the Anchors. Usually the phrase "looks like someone didn't pay the electricity bill" is meant to be a joke, but here that was well in the realm of possibilities. As me and my colleques tried to get the power running again, SCP-XXXX randomly ejected itself from our reality again. Soon after the power was back up again and we recieved a warning that there was a containment breach at one of the larger sites. I quickly searched the database for which objects were stored at the site in question. My heart dropped when I saw an ZK-class Warning on one of the objects. I ran to my lab, where I still had a functioning prototype of the trans-reality-rift. As I hurried down the hallway, I heard a single 'tick' echo though my mind. I'm guessing it was omnipresent based on what I read on the database. Everything around me started to melt in a very disturbing way. When I reached my lab, I hurled myself through the activated rift and ended up in this reality.

I woke up on this earth-like planet. One of the side effects of the older versions of the trans-reality-rift were that they were really slow at transporting matter, so the body had to re-adjust to the new reality and 'new' configuration. It dealt with the body cells in catergories, more then in individual objects, and rearranged them randomly inside the category parameters. Anyways. I wandered this fairly calm planet for quite some time before I found another group of humans. After I talked to them I found out that they also were from my Foundation. They took me to a larger camp of other Foundation personal who appearently alos fled through trans-reality-rifts. It took us years, but we eventually established contacts with other camps on this new world we inhabited. We rebuilt our own mini-humanity, as there were merely only around 250.000 of us left. Although, with no more anomalies to contain, our Foundation went into a sort of identity-crisis. Their corrupt ideas stayed though, which led to an totalitarian regime that ruled the leftovers of humanity. Doesn't sound so pleasing? Yeah, not to me either. Quickly the New Earth government had their own state police that oppressed killed any who would even think of opposing them. And, well if you're reading this, they got a hold of me too.

Now I am either laying dead in some hole, tortured in some underground facility or worse, amnesticised and put to work under their awful rule. One way or another, either I haven't opened this file for a week or someone unauthorized has. I plead to you, me more than anything. My Foundation wants to destroy yours, because they put the blame on you people. Block them out, I know you know how to, because I know how to.

So good luck to you me James.

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