████████
Item #: SCP-███
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment procedures: SCP-███ is currently contained in theater three (designated Site 204) at the ███████ No.9 Cinema in ██████, ████████ A minimum of seven showings of a feature length film must be performed and made open to the public in this theater each week. Five Foundation security personnel, a neurosurgeon and a medical assistant are to be fully trained in procedure "free tickets" (see document ███-A) and on staff for every showing. Anyone suspected of using video or imaging devices in site 204 is to be detained and the risk of security breach assessed. In the event of SCP-███ not manifesting for four or more days, Dr. Biel is to be notified immediately.
Description: SCP-███ is a spectral entity usually detectable as a specific distortion in the electromagnetic spectrum between 108 and 1013 Hz. When active, it first appears below the visible spectrum between the microwave and infrared wavelengths. Physical appearance, when manifest is of a translucent figure sitting in an empty seat (or if all seats are occupied, standing against the back wall) dressed in a brown fedora and overcoat. While visible, SCP-███ remains non-corporeal and unresponsive to all stimuli.
SCP-███ causes specific visual hallucinations in certain humans who attend a movie in a theater it is occupied by. Imaging technology has shown that during 62% of films aired, SCP-███ will become detectable behind an audience member and remain stationary for up to two minutes. It then 'drifts' throughout the room until settling behind another person and repeating the process. Viewers of the film chosen in this manner are considered Phase 1 subjects.
Phase 1: Subject will begin to see themselves making brief, recurring cameo appearances in the film. Hallucinations at this stage will be in character with events happening onscreen. However, no coherent dialogue has been reported being spoken by the onscreen subjects, with 87% of sightings in motion and visible for less than two seconds.
It has been shown that if affected subjects experience an adrenaline secretion at this time as the result of a stress response from noting their appearance in the film (or for any other reason) SCP-███ will immediately spike in frequency into the visual spectrum, causing its humanoid aspect to manifest. If a subject causes one of these EM spikes, all those currently in Phase 1 are then at risk for Phase 2 effects. As long as SCP-███ does not manifest visually, whether by subjects not perceiving their own onscreen presence or failing to release sufficient adrenaline in response to it, there will be no danger of further symptoms.
Phase 2: If SCP-███ manifests in the visual spectrum, all previously affected subjects will be able to perceive the entity. Unaffected individuals cannot see SCP-███ directly, though it appears normally on video and imaging equipment during this time, posing a risk to containment. If any subject experiences an adrenaline response as a result of observation of SCP-███, a second EM spike in the entity will occur which emits a burst of concentrated X-rays. If this happens, all Phase 1 subjects in Site 204 will proceed to Phase 2.
Two to three hours after exposure to Phase 2, affected subjects begin to see characters from the film they were watching appear around them in situations similar to Phase 1 hallucinations. Within 24 hours, these characters begin repeating lines from the film as well as improvising dialogue, treating subject as though they were a character in-story in an apparent attempt to attract attention from the subject. If these imagined characters are not interacted with they become increasingly more insistent and extreme in their interactions. (eg: "We've got to get out of here, there's a bomb!" or "You're the one who turned my wife against me!") Physical altercations with imagined characters have been observed, including subjects reacting as though struck. If left untreated, schizophrenia will develop along with an eventual inability to sleep for long periods.
Phase 1 symptoms are only known to persist within site 204. Phase 2 apparently lasts indefinitely due to selective mutation of the thalamus in subjects. Extensive testing has confirmed that the radiation released during phase 2 contamination promotes tumorous growth in a specific area of the lateral geniculate nucleus approx. 3 mm in diameter. The method through which this radiation consistently affects only a specific area of the brain remains unknown.
Document ███-A: In the event Phase 2 radiation is released, procedure "Free Tickets" is to be initiated and ██-X7 gas is to be pumped into the auditorium. Once all patrons have been rendered unconscious, subjects believed to be in Phase 2 are to be removed along with relevant parties and counteractant ██-A2 introduced to restore remaining patrons to consciousness. It is as a result of this procedure that only drama films are to be shown in Site 204.
Subjects confirmed to be entering Phase 2 are to have the relevant area of the lateral geniculate nucleus removed via endonasal surgery and treated with [REDACTED] to allow faster recovery. Typical symptoms from this procedure are assumed to simply be a sinus infection, with only █% historically experiencing vision reduction.
For more information, see Document ███-5H.
Movie theater, haunted
causes 'cameos' within the movie
random ppl find themselves in fleeting background scenes in the aired movie
after seeing themselves, SCP guy becomes visible to them after lights come back up
only ppl who see SCP will begin experiencing cameos of chars. from the movie in everyday life
Theater bulldozed, reappeared later in a different theater (possible electromagnetic tracking of migration?)
Containment prods should include phase 2 allowance but prevention of symptoms to maintain containment
Squick up phase 2 symptoms
Acquisition / experiment log a must
Fix lobotomy details
Since phenomena associated with SCP-XXX have only been observed in people who recently viewed a movie in a theater, containment procedures are based on the theory that it is somehow confined to those conditions.
Exposure to phase 2 usually occurs in a cascade effect.
Due to SCP-███'s benign nature, requests for modification of containment procedures have been put on hold until the minimum number of willing participants required per week can be assessed.
It was dark. The man hung suspended in the gloom. Half the time up in the air, half on the ground.
He was insane now. He knew that sometimes. It was okay though because he was drifting now, drifting away. He was past the pain. Only a strong coughing fit or spasm would jar him back, reminding himself of who he was and also who was responsible for this.
Worse than what came out of the pipe was the smell that stung his eyes. Worse than how he got food and water was the silence. He felt the silence as a thing. Watching, leering at him. Screaming helped. It was his weapon, it kept the silence from sneaking up on him and bringing the nightmares. It seemed there was no escape from them. The sounds he did hear when they came down the pipe were bad enough.
No longer aware of having slept or not, the man was easily confused now. So he did not immediately notice the figure standing in the entrance. It stepped toward the man on the chain, revealing a well cut suit with a respirator that covered most of the face and muffled his voice. That bastard came closer than anyone but the doctor had, then paused before speaking.
"Hello Nathaniel."
The man on the chain was surprised, the kind of surprise that comes from having been sure of something already yet only now being presented with proof that it's true. However, Nathaniel made no outward sign of movement upon recognizing his tormenter. The pain from his atrophied muscles and brittle bones had drilled unnecessary reactions out of him. This was countered by the constant fire in his chest and throat, and whatever was happening to his legs.
"I know you can't speak." the businessman said through pressurized breaths. "I'm sure you've probably realized what triggered all this, perhaps even what Cassandra meant to me." He looked down, then brought his eyes up to lock with Nathaniel's.
"You took my self confidence from me. I had to regain it. I needed to subjugate you as I had been subjugated by you. This was my way." The man gestured offhandedly at the revolting surroundings, the simple movement making a mockery of the extreme filth. Still Nathaniel remained silent, unmoving.
The old man sighed. "I came here not to explain myself but to tell you that I have gained my satisfaction. Through you I'm as enthusiastic as when I was fresh out of college. Our shared experience is something I'll treasure." He smiled a warm smile at the horrific, emaciated form before him, then leaned in even closer. "With you on the brink of death now I realize how… sad that makes me. When you're gone, I'll miss this."
The suited man brought a long, leather gloved arm up, revealing a tiny case clutched in his fist. He opened it and carefully removed a small red speck nestled in some foam. "I thought maybe it was the torture method, but it's not. In truth I find that repugnant. And yet…" the man trailed off. His gaze was on the tiny white cylinder in the palm of his glove. He put the case away, and when he spoke again his voice was softer.
"This cost more than most countries. It's so small, yet rumor makes it so large." He turned away from his prisoner, not seeing him. "I had a cancer scare, right before we met, and became desperate for a way to prolong my life. Wouldn't you know it? once I had one, I couldn't take it. It's too good to be true and you never trust one of those." His gaze snapped back to regard Nathaniel with dispassionate eyes. "Just like you. Too good to be true. You're my drug, you see Nathaniel? I'm addicted to you!"
With that the businessman grabbed a handful of wet, matted hair and what didn't come out in his fist held Nathaniel's head in place as he shoved his other hand in the wretched man's mouth, forcing the pill easily past his stump of an amputated tongue. Nathaniel's eyes bulged and he tried to scream, then screamed around the fist anyway as the struggle broke his frail left wrist.
Nathaniel gagged, eyes bulging, then coughed blood, followed by a deep, ragged breath which made him swallow involuntarily. The businessman stepped back hurriedly, both men gasping.
My Pa went away in the fall with our crop. Down to Pig's Eye Landing to get the best prices where the barges and mills met. When he came back he was different.
He was dull. His eyes especially. Pa had used to tell stories, wonderful stories where he did all the voices. Now it was as if he'd forgotten how. He still knew them, but they were dull too. The knight fought but no longer swung his sword. The princess didn't scream for help anymore.
I'd heard at the schoolhouse that people could change if they got kicked in the head by a horse or a cow. I asked Pa if anything had happened to him in the city. It wasn't till the height of winter when we were all snowed in that I got him to tell me.
A man came up in Pierre's Tavern. "Good farmer. Might I share your table?"
Pa looked at the stranger's wide brimmed hat and coat that had once been nice but now was dust colored. "Not interested in any flim-flam tonic." He said.
The stranger smiled. "I am a merchant, yes but no flim-flam man. My name is Robert Tremblay. Beg pardon, I'm only wondering where to get the latest news from a practical man, being new into town and not having heard much of the wider world lately." Well, Pa just couldn't take to being called impractical, so he had the stranger sit down.
Pa told him of the grain blight from the early frost up north, recent crime dramas, rumors of the Industrial Revolution in Europe. Afterward, Robert leaned back and sighed in satisfaction. "It's good to be up on the latest information, and you tell it well. Say, have you ever considered being a newspaper reporter?"
Pa was flattered until he realized the merchant hadn't even asked him his name. "I don't have the learning for that, Mister Tremblay," He muttered. "but you must be a genuine salesman. What do you sell if it's not flim-flam?"
"Mostly food tins from New York, the latest variety." The merchant said smoothly, deflecting the criticism. "They even make corned beef hash now."
That was impressive. Things like that were always in demand around here. "Hmph. Well if your prices are fair and you're willing to prove freshness, I'll take a look at your stock." Pa said.
"Certainly." Tremblay stood, gesturing to the exit. "I also have the latest innovation in fruit jars. We're thinking of calling them Mason Jars…"
Before settling up Tremblay pressed a piece of metal into my Pa's hand. A gift to make up for any awkwardness on his part, he said. A firestarter, based on the latest technology. At his urging my Pa tested it and found the brilliant white flame the metal shavings gave off more than adequate. Magnesium, the merchant said it was.
Pa didn't tell me that part of the story but I figured it out anyway. After he got back Pa would send me away whenever he started a fire. I didn't notice at first, but eventually I did and kept back behind a far corner, watching him strike flint to flame. The unnatural white glare was like lightning from a rock, making weird shadows that left little afterimages in your eyes, which was not pleasant. Still, when Pa had the hearth lit and orange flame was licking around the wood, he carefully made another pile of shavings from the firestarter and a snick, snick across the flint had another glaring strobe going in no time. Like he just wanted to watch it burn.
By then he was already pretty far gone, but I was too naive to put it together. He became so silent. You could ask all the questions you wanted and not get an answer. Feeding the animals and using that thing was all Pa did after a while, otherwise he stayed in bed like a hibernating bear. I tried hard to do the rest of the chores and keep the fire going but it didn't matter, the windows would shine with a too bright glow when I was outside. In the early darkness one night the wrongness of it and the not being able to do anything rushed in and I cried and cried.
Just when it felt hopeless, I thought of how people in the stories always made out somehow or other. They had hard things happen to them and they overcame it to solve their problems someday. I made a decision, that I would understand this problem. I would solve it one day. It made me feel better and I went back into the house to do what I had to, but I didn't know what that was and the wall of silence from Pa blanketed my young resolve and nothing changed.
When the firestarter hit the ground, it was terribly startling. A thunderclap upon the floor. I went over and saw it lying there, figuring Pa had dropped it in his sleep. When I picked it up though I saw he was awake and as our eyes met he suddenly sat up. He looked at me but… but nothing. That was all he did. Pa made no sound. I screamed, and there was a tightening around his eyes. I ran.
That night, hidden in the extra cattle blankets up in the hayloft I clutched the firestarter in my hand. It was warm from Pa's touch and I hadn't let it go, thinking that as long as it was kept away from him things would return to normal. I had solved the mystery. There were letters on it I could almost make out but they were just teaching us reading at the schoolhouse, so the letters remained a jumble.
I had many vivid dreams that night. When I awoke, there was a moment of perfect clarity where all of the events and stories were there in my head, but by the time I was up and about I was grasping to hold onto the most memorable ones as usual. I knew I should go send for the doctor like in one of my dreams, the one where Pa got all better. Yet when I went out, there was Pa up and feeding the cows which let me get in the house without any awkwardness. Later when we were together again he said, "You be good pumpkin." and I was so happy. He was getting better. He didn't say anything else though, so I told him his own story of the train robbery that I'd dreamt about last night and I did all the voices.
By the third morning, the firestarter was a cold lump upon waking. My head was so full of dreams that I had to sit for a while, putting things in order. I realized that I was looking off into space, just like Pa did so I got up, speaking to myself as I went down the ladder to prove I still could. He was in bed staring at the wall and I cried again, till a knock at the door interrupted me. Maybe it was the neighbors coming to check on us since we hadn't been over.
Instead there was a tall, filthy man in a no longer fancy tailed coat and hat on the stoop, damp from the late winter rain.
"Hello little girl." He said, as a fake smile quickly replaced an irritated frown. "Is this the Miller farm?"
I didn't answer, not knowing what to think of a stranger out here. He peered beyond me and spotted the figure in bed. "Oh dear." He muttered absently, pushing past me into the house, going straight over to my Pa. The man put his hands on him as I moved over, thinking, 'Stop! Who are you? Get out of our house!' but still not finding words to object as he turned back to me.
"My dear, you must listen. Your Father is very sick." He paused to let this sink in, then got down on one knee to put his face at my level. "I can help, but we must get him to a doctor. My wagon is at the top of the valley."
In my head I thought, He's exactly like Mr. Crabtree from the story about the evil railroad man. He'd even tie me up to the tracks. I don't know how but I was certain he was trouble, like a bear looking at you. This is obviously the part of the story where the villain gets what they want so that all hope seems lost. How easy for him. Yet what can I possibly do?
He saw my hesitation. "What is the matter, girl? Why don't you speak?"
His gaze grew sharp, searching. Self conscious again, I put my hand in the pocket of my dress where it was to help with the fear. The man saw and grabbed my wrist, withdrawing the firestarter I hadn't had time to let go of. He took it and removed one of his gloves, holding it in his bare hand. It must have been as cold to him as it was to me now because he frowned and looked to Pa, then to me.
"Ah, it is you." He said, with that tie you to the tracks look and I got scared and had to say no! It's not me and make up a story quick. Only, when I did suddenly all I could think of was what to say to get him to go away.
About how my Pa was on the mend cause the priest had been 'round and if the good mister was saying I had caused his bad humor well that couldn't be since The Father had taken confession and pronounced me fit and also surely others were more sick nearby cause of the wet months and could pay if that was what mister wanted and also we had no money and we had many relatives due immediately from town so really there was no need anyway.
The explanation kept flowing from my mouth as ideas lined up in my head to be counted. I thought of sad or funny or scary things I could say. The knight, the cowboy and the princess with her royal court
were ready to be included with fantasy lands sparkling to the horizon. Vast, shadowy concepts rose behind them until I shrank in terror from my own imagination into gasping silence, unsure of how long I'd been babbling to the man in front of me.
He was silent awhile, then said simply, "My name is Mr. Tremblay. This belongs to you." and handed the stump of the firestarter back.
I'm still not sure if accepting it was the worst mistake of my life or not.
-1840
Perhaps delete mothers story and merge paragraphs