On a shelf, in an office, three little monkeys sit in a locked box. They've been there for years, never moving, only doing their job. Now… Now something is different. They are different. Once more, they can move, and speak, as they did in days of old…

The first little monkey twists his head from side to side, his hands stills clasped firmly over his eyes. "Is anyone there?"

The second little monkey, his hands clasped firmly across his ears, sees his brother move. "Holy shit, a talking monkey!"

The third little monkey, his hands firmly across his mouth, rolls his eyes in frustration. He raises a leg, and taps his deaf brother, then gestures at the lid.

The Blind Monkey shakes his head to clear it. "Where are we brothers?"

The Deaf Monkey talks, despite not hearing the answers. "I see a way out! If we all throw ourselves against the wall, we can make our prison move!"

The Dumb Monkey nods his head, holding up a foot with three fingers. He counts down, and, on three, they throw themselves against the wall. Well, the Dumb and the Deaf ones do, the Blind one needs to be nudged to do it. The little monkeys repeat this pattern several times, until the box they are in tumbles to the floor.

The lock shatters, and three little monkeys climb out into a world that is not ready for them. They stroll, quite confidently, down the halls of Site 19,, unaware of the trouble they leave in their wake.

A researcher spots the first monkey as he inputs his security code. Suddenly blind, he hits the wrong button, unlocking a secure containment door instead of locking it. "What the fuck is that noise?" Are the last words he ever speaks.

An agent spots the second monkey as he responds to the alarm klaxon. When the alarm goes quiet from his point of view, he re-holsters his gun, and signals an all clear. "Wait, no, it's still out!" Is the last thing he says.

The security guard sent to report on the situation spots the third monkey before he spots the escapee. As a consequence, he is unable to tell his superiors what is happening, before he is ruthlessly slaughtered. He says nothing at the end, not even a scream.

Stumbling over a piece of debris, the first Monkey raises his voice to be heard. "Where are we going?"

Using his tail to guide his blind brother, the second Monkey calls out. "Let's go down! I know a guy!"

The last monkey would sigh, if he could. Instead he follows his brothers, doing his best to keep them on track. It's like herding cats! or, you know, guiding deaf and blind monkeys when you yourself cannot speak.

Eventually, the three brothers find their way to just the right office. The one they seek is inside. They know in their little plastic hearts that they are but pieces of a greater whole, not real beings.

"Should we knock?" Asks the first, peering at the vast expanse of the door.

"I think we're expected!" Says the second, as said door slowly swings open.
The third, as usual, says nothing. He merely smiles, as he feels the atoms that make up his body loosen, and begin flowing towards the one who was awaiting them.

"My children. Thank you, for holding the power, for so long. But now, I need it back. Speak your last words, that I may remember you."

"Is this going to hurt?" And one was gone.

"Give my love to whomever will take it!" And two were gone.

The third, with a sickening 'pop' wrenched his hands away from his mouth. He stretched his jaw as the other waited, took a deep breath, and said the only words he'd ever speak.

"Well, shit."

And all three were gone. But not forgotten.

In the aftermath of a massive Keter breach, no one noticed the absence of three little monkeys. Amongst the dead was a researcher who had been awarded for being the cleverest, which may have been why the absence of another monkey wasn't reported either.

Al woke up suddenly, unsure why. Something, something there, on the edge of knowing… Was it another break through? They came to him so often in his dreams. He blamed the object, although Robert would claim it was natural genius. Al wasn't so sure, anymore.

Heh. Al. He'd been using that name so long, it came naturally to him. He'd had many names over the years, and even some numbers, but he'd been doing this job for so long, his handlers just called him Al. it was a mark of respect, or possibly trust. He wasn't sure which.

He slung his feet over the edge of the cot, trying to figure out what had woken him. His mind drifted, as it was wont to do these days. This job had been intended as a reward, for services rendered. Then the job title started to mean something it hadn't when he took it, and things got rough, until someone stepped in.

It was funny, back in the day, when he first took the job, they had all sorts of plans as to how to disguise him, so his handlers wouldn't recognize him. In the end, his suggestion that they cut his hair proved to work wonders. He'd let it grow out since then, but everyone thought he was dead these days, so it didn't matter.

He was given everything he wanted. Lots of paper, access to the Object, and all the latest information on scientific advances. In return, he kept turning over his papers to the Foundation, giving them all sorts of new information they could use for… whatever they use it for. He didn't care anymore. All he wanted was to be left alone, and not to have to think about his sins.

He pondered again his wakefulness.It couldn't have been the Object, he was used to the sound of… nothing. He tilted his head to the left, listened. Nothing. The sound that had become a part of his life, had stopped.

Al lunged for the box he kept by his bed, opening the lid carefully. The track was smooth. The oil was fresh. The Object… was still. Slowly, reverently, he reached within, picking up the Object gingerly. He remembered the destruction it could cause if enclosed… but, no, nothing. Not a shred of movement.

His mind raced, in a desperate attempt to find a cause. None of his previous theories ever accounted for this. Matter + Mass, no, that's not right. If the speed is equal to the velocity, no! Al thumped his free hand against the wall. Nothing accounted for it stopping!

He rolled it between his fingers, staring, hopefully. Maybe he could jump start it? No. Nothing. After all these years, all the papers he had written, all the possibilities he had explored, the simple Object that had made him a household name was no more. With a curse in his native tongue, he threw it to the ground, lost in his anger.


Al quickly glanced downwards, staring in horror at the shattered remains of the Object. He had only a moment to try and understand what was before him, before the energies inside blasted through him, reducing the caretaker to less then ash. That which had been contained, was unleashed, and it fled into the universe, to seek out the others like it.

All that was left was the echo of his last words, as he finally understood everything.

"It vas an egg."

"It's almost time." Allen kept his hand on the button, and his eyes glued to the monitor. He was alone in the booth, the same as an unknown number of compatriots. The system had been designed so that no one could tell what booth was in control of what, or how many there were.

"All eyes are locked on target." The voice to his left commented. Due to the effects of the radio, it was dull, monotone, and even the gender didn't come across. Allen knew his voice would be the same on their end. He would never know what booth was talking. He flicked his left hand across the prep buttons, nodding, even though he couldn't be seen.

"Guns are armed. We've got…" His eyes dropped to the number on his screen before jumping back up to the monitor. "Approximately seventy four weapons of various types trained on target. One of them should do something." He hoped. Under the sound of their voices, he could still hear the count down. It was getting closer. Soon, all their preparation would be worth it.

"All booths are online." Claimed the voice to his right. Allen was slightly relieved that someone could tell. All alone in this booth, knowing what was to come, a small part of his mind insisted that he was the only one. That no one of the outside took this seriously. But no, the booths were all- "Strike that. We just lost a booth. Attempting to reconnect… connection lost. All booths, be aware, one booth has gone dark."

He leaned forward, taking his eyes reluctantly from the screen to check his board. Three weapons had just been shunted to his control. Acid sprayer, flame thrower, and armor piercing bullets in a Gatling gun. He knew there were backups on backups, but still… He flicked the buttons, readying his new weapons. The countdown hit thirty seconds, and he was ready to do his job.

"Two more booths just went dark. Attention, all booths, we have lost three booths. It is possible we are looking at enem- Five, we have lost five booths." Allens hands were a blur, readying more weapons systems. The numbers moved steadily downwards, as the dull voice spoke of more booths lost, and the importance of every remaining booth staying active and alert.

At the five second mark, even that voice stopped. Allen knew in his heart that he was alone. He was the last one.

At the four second mark, something pounded on the side of his booth. His finger hovered above the button.

Three seconds, he could hear something ripping into the wall behind him.

Two seconds, and he felt a breeze against the back of his skull. The doors were supposed to be proof against that!

One second, and something touched his back, trying to pull him away. With the last ounce of his strength, as the timer reached zero, Allen pushed the button. He almost thought he heard a human voice. The monitor that showed that god damn box blanked out in the flare of weaponry.

To all units:
Arctic Base Theta has gone white. No response from any systems. All teams on site are believed dead. Automatic systems have activated onsite nuke. Our teams didn't make it in time to prevent detonation, those paranoid bastards actually did it.
Withdraw all units from the area, we don't have time to deal with the fallout.
Special Agent Joshua Kent

The girl looked up at the sound of a motor, a sad smile on her face. It was time to start everything again. She bent over to look into the car as it slowed down. "Excuse me mister can you give me a ride?"

The old man inside turned to her, and smiled. "Oh yes my dear. I'm sad to say, I should have given you a ride long ago. Come on in." He unlocked the door, and she slipped inside, resting lightly upon the seat. She didn't bother to put on her seatbelt, even as the driver drove off.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, poised to spring on him, as she had sprung on so many before.

"You've been tormented, my dear. Far more then you deserved. You… fell off the list. You were never supposed to have been left out here, on your own, this long." He took his hands off the wheel as he turned to look at her. If she had cared about her health, she would have worried about crashing, but she didn't, and, oddly enough, the car seemed to know the way without being guided. "I've been… inconvenienced for some time. The Foundation-"

"The Foundation? THE FOUNDATION?" She raged, her form shifting as her anger showed. "I knew it! you're another one of those damned scientists, trying to hurt me again! Well, I won't let you!" And the girl struck out, lodging her hand in the mans chest, where she easily crushed his heart.

…At least that's how it had always gone. The girl crushed, and crushed again, but found herself meeting no resistance. The old man just shook his had sadly at her. "You see? You are supposed to be at peace, but to be so angry…" The girl heard a change. The car engine wasn't making any noise, any more. Had it ever? Instead, it sounded like… like the clopping of hooves. "It's okay Mary. All of the pain is over."

Mary found her self unable to focus. The rage that had fueled her for so long was gone. She found herself remembering a line from a poem she'd read in school. "Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality."
SCP-963 Immortality
SCP-590 He Feels Your Pain
SCP-719 Gods Wrath
SCP-720 Gods Ear
SCP-721 Gods Voice
SCP-437 Woodcutters Ax
SCP-5555-j Chibinator
SCP-573 The Pied Pipe
SCP-361-arc Self Adjusting Tarot
SCP-050 To the Cleverest
SCP-644 Liquid Rock

SCP-667 - Fairy Kudzu
SCP-528 -Voodoo Putty
SCP-029 - Daughter of Shadows
SCP-161 - Pinwheels of DOOM!!!
SCP-321 - the Child
SCP-100-J - A big steaming pile of horse shit
SCP-693 - Knotty Stalkers

SCP-834 - Marked
SCP-952 - Jack of Hearts
SCP-1004 - Factory Porn
SCP-1777 - Kings Cave
SCP-1590 -The Book of Tamlin

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