Item #: SCP-5000
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5000 is contained in an isolated chamber in the lowest floor of Provisional Site-273.
SCP-5000 is to be contained involving as few humans as possible. Currently, this is achieved with a staff of one person (the Caretaker) caring for SCP-5000 full-time, with assistance by automated systems, which the Caretaker must also be able to maintain.
Replacement of SCP-5000's Caretaker is to be undertaken via standard Foundation "Blind Leading Blind" protocols, ensuring that only the replacement, and the person who initiated the replacement, are aware that the operation concerns SCP-5000.
Research into preserving or encoding further information about SCP-5000 is encouraged to continue. Maybe you won't always have to be alone.
Upon induction as SCP-5000's caretaker, all personal history is to be erased, and any personal items with a sentimental connection specifically identifying the Caretaker are to be collected and destroyed if possible.
SCP-6465 has been placed within Site-97 for the purposes of medical self-diagnosis and longevity, and has been removed from the Foundation database and the number recycled. When SCP-6465 indicates the Candidate is nearing the end of their lifespan, the Candidate must initiate the replacement process and self-terminate within Room 101 in Site-97. The next Candidate must then clean and repair Room-101.
Description: SCP-5000 is a humanoid figure exhibiting a powerful teleohazard.
SCP-5000 corrupts any ontological connection or relation between it and any person with a relationship specific to it (e.g. "SCP-5000's mother", "SCP-5000's neighbor", "SCP-5000 researcher").
The degree of this "corruption" increases with the length and depth of the connection between SCP-5000 and the target. The connection also does not need to be mutual; connections that only one of the two knows exists have also been affected.
The corruption of these connections manifests as the gradual replacement of shared history. Sentimental items, keepsakes, and mementos generated over the course of the connection lose distinguishing information, degrading into featureless orange orbs. Further corruption results in even shared memories degrading, with the other person only able to recall the image of the orange orbs when pressed about shared events or links to SCP-5000.
When this connection ends in any manner, SCP-5000's effect annihilates all evidence of the connection outside its own mind. All of the orange orbs detonate explosively, as does the connected person. Additionally, the resulting conceptual "crater" prevents any information about or from the connection from being retrieved.
Interview Log 5000-A:
[BEGIN LOG]
Caretaker: Hello, 5000.
(SCP-5000 sighs.)
Caretaker: I'm sorry. I don't know your name.
SCP-5000: That's the thing. I don't either. And even if I made up a new one, you'd probably forget it eventually anyway.
Caretaker: Are you sure there's nothing you remember? Anything deep down in there from your past?
SCP-5000: I already told you. It's all gone. Wiped clean. (pause) You don't have to do this, you know.
Caretaker: Do what?
SCP-5000: Try to engage with me or be my friend.
Caretaker: Well, what else am I going to do?
SCP-5000: You could just never come in here, like the last one did. IV nutrition, do all the maintenance while I was asleep.
Caretaker: I wouldn't- wait. You remember the previous caretaker?
SCP-5000: No.
Caretaker: Then how did you-
SCP-5000: I don't remember anything about them, but I know I'm older than you. So obviously I had one before you. I can't consciously remember the previous ones, whoever they were, but I know they existed.
Caretaker: Yes, but how do you remember their behavior?
SCP-5000: The crater they left wasn't as big.
(Silence.)
SCP-5000: When someone leaves me, and everything goes "boom", I feel it. Every single time. It's like a missile strike inside my brain. It burns just trying to remember anything about that person afterwards, because the metaphorical, or maybe literal, crater is still hot. And the closer I was to that person, the bigger the explosion. I don't want you to get hurt.
Caretaker: I see.
SCP-5000: Why are you recording this, anyway? It'll be gone when the next person comes.
[[END LOG]]
Interview Log 5000-B:
[BEGIN LOG]
SCP-5000: What do you want?
Caretaker: Hey, 5000. I've got some questions for you.
SCP-5000: Fine.
Caretaker: Do you have any idea how long you've been in here?
SCP-5000: I- no.
Caretaker: There's something tripping me up about all this.
SCP-5000: You mean besides being trapped with me in a vault and becoming a ticking time bomb?
Caretaker: Yeah, besides that.
SCP-5000: Shoot.
Caretaker: There's no harm in telling you this: when I got "recruited" or "assigned" to this, the documents said that someone had to initiate the replacement process before they died. But how did the first person set up all this secrecy in the first place before they forgot everything?
[DATA LOST]
[END LOG]
Interview 5000-C:
[BEGIN LOG]
(File is heavily corrupted. Only visible object in frame is an orange sphere. Two voices are heard, one of which is similar to SCP-5000's.)
Indistinct Voice: The toy says I've got about a week left. (cough)
SCP-5000: I'm sorry.
Voice: No, I'm sorry. I tried to fix this, and all I did was make it worse.
SCP-5000: You know, you used to tell me not to say things like that when you first started here.
Voice: I did? I can't remember.
SCP-5000: I know. I just wish there was a way to save any of this, for the next person's sake. Are you worried?
Voice: Not as much as I thought I'd be. But won't it hurt you?
SCP-5000: It doesn't matter. You won't be around to know, anyway, and I'm almost starting to get used to it after so many times.
Voice: How- (coughs) how many?
SCP-5000: Fifty? Fifty-one, maybe.
Voice: Wait.
SCP-5000: What?
Voice: Wait wait wait. That can't be right.
SCP-5000: Well, I've been here longer than you. You forgot I don't age, didn't you? And you've only been here a fraction of that.
Voice: Yeah, about 10 years.
SCP-5000: No, wait, you shouldn't be able to remember that-
Voice: Who started this whole protocol, anyway?
SCP-5000: I don't remember names. Wouldn't whoever they were count as my "warden" or something?
Voice: Did you ever feel them go boom?
SCP-5000: You can't expect me to keep track of every single explosion, they all blur together after so long-
Voice: But if you didn't know about it, then they would have also not had to know about it. And that's possible, with amnestics or even weirder stuff we have around here.
SCP-5000: You're saying-
Voice: How old are you?
SCP-5000: I told you, I don't remember-
Voice: Exactly. You haven't been in here for centuries.
SCP-5000: Even if I accept for a second that that's true, what difference does it make?
Voice: It makes all the difference.
SCP-5000: You're scaring me now.
[[DATA CORRUPTED]]
Unclear: (This voice is similar to both Voice 1 and SCP-5000.) I'm sorry. Let me be free.
(A struggle is heard, followed by a grunt and the snapping of bones.)
[FURTHER DATA CORRUPTED]
Per 
