Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-5000 is contained in situ at the location of its discovery. A five square meter table has been constructed in the center of a 15 x 20 x 5 m containment chamber on Sub-Level 5 of Site-17. The containment chamber is outfitted with the Mk V Temporal Sink, to be maintained at constant TVM1 unless otherwise directed by the item’s HMCL Supervisor (currently Dr. Marcus Kitterman), Site Director, or O5-12.
All instances of SCP-5000-1 are subject to interrogation, containment, and termination on sight as necessary. Instances may be retained for study under HCP-32 in the adjoining containment cells. Instances are to be terminated after a maximum of 364 days in containment to prevent causal interference with subsequent instances. No writing material is permitted in the containment suite or adjoining interrogation rooms to prevent SCP-5000-1 from employing memetic temporal displacement methods.
Access to the containment chamber is restricted to members of the Temporal Anomalies Department with L-5/5000 clearance, general L/5Δ clearance, or higher. Due to continued active temporal anomalies surrounding SCP-5000 and all sub-designations, permission to assemble SCP-5000-G and explore SCP-5000-2 may only be granted to members of RCT-Δt with at least 250 hours logged mission time. A steel alloy frame has been constructed sufficient to support the weight and shape of the various fragments in an assembled position, and is stored against the western wall of the containment chamber. Personnel accessing the containment chamber or exploring SCP-5000-2 must be anchored to the chamber’s exterior via 5 mm steel tether. If for any reason the tether becomes detached prior to successful egress, the untethered party is to be considered a hostile entity, interrogated, and permanently contained or terminated as appropriate.
Redundant copies of all documentation relating to SCP-5000 must be kept in causal isolation at all times.
Description:
SCP-5000 is the collective designation of six large (0.5 - 2.25 m length) fragments of layered sardonyx bearing detailed relief sculpture often referred to as cameo in art literature. The aesthetic of the relief is consistent with other large cameo carvings from Europe created during the late Republican / early Imperial period of Rome. When viewed separately, each engraving will depict a different individual scene, using the entire space available with no visible damage. However, when any two or more engravings occupy the same visual field, observers become aware that they are looking at a fragmented singular work which encompasses all six fragments.
Personnel with Level 5/Δ or 5/5000 may access Catalog 5000-1.1 for detailed description of all six fragments.
SCP-5000 has the effect of nullifying all ambient tachyon fields within a 5m radius of the collection’s center of mass, rendering it impossible for time to pass within the chamber unless the embedded Mk V Temporal Sink is activated. Interactions between this suspended temporal reference frame and our native TVM progression are not well understood, due to the impossibility of verifying any reported observations of experimental D-Class personnel or other entities leaving its area of effect. From an external perspective, such persons appear to enter and exit the active area instantaneously, and report vastly inconsistent experiences of duration spent within.
SCP-5000-1 designates all humanoids animate entities attempting to leave the active zone. All such instances to date have identified themselves as former members of RCT-Δt. Credentials recovered from SCP-5000-1 appear to be consistent with those in use by the Foundation at their reported time of origin, but none have thus far been verified by extant assets, agents, or databases. SCP-5000-1 instances manifest at a rate of three individuals per year, every year on the 23rd of December since the item’s discovery. Each manifestation always contains two males and one female. All sets have been genetically identical to one another despite occasional presentation of significant morphological differences. To date these have included:
- Entities with radially symmetrical body plans. Vivisection of instances reveals anatomical structures resembling those of phylum Echinodermatta3.
- Humanoid entities of increased stature with six phalanges on all extremities, and at least one organ structure of unknown purpose contained within the abdomen.
- Otherwise normal humanoids suffering advanced stages of SCP-217 infection.
- Three normal and healthy Corvus corax4 specimens carrying weapons, clothing, spectacles, and other equipment designed to be operated by avian physiology.
- [DOCUMENTATION INFOHAZARD EXPUNGED]
Update, 15/5/2027: Previous manifestations of SCP-5000-1 have categorically refused to cooperate with attempts at interview. SCP-5000-1.41-A, -B, and -C have granted interviews to containment personnel. Information will be released to this document pending verification. Researchers may access Document 5000-INT for transcripts of each interview.
Update, 30/6/2027: Following the interview with SCP-5000-1.41-A regarding a hidden space within SCP-5000, efforts were undertaken by RCT-Δt to reconstruct the complete object, designated SCP-5000-G. As of 8/6/2027, the project was concluded and resources diverted to exploration of SCP-5000-2.
SCP-5000-2 designates a spatial anomaly accessed from the obverse side of SCP-5000-G. This area is only accessible when the relief is fully assembled in the upright position. SCP-5000-2 contains a mock Roman city state of the early first century CE in a state of suspended animation.no tachyon field has been successfully detected within SCP-5000-2, rendering standard recording equipment non-functional. Exploration Summary 5000-2-E is compiled from multiple oral and written accounts of SCP-5000-2 exploration by various RCT-Δt assets.
Attached Documentation:
Catalog 5000-1.1:
Item Designation | Approximate Dimensions | Image Description |
---|---|---|
SCP-5000-A | 0.5 x 0.33 m | A nude female figure pouring water from a large vase. She appears to be weeping. Smaller humanoid figures are visible in the resulting flow of water. |
SCP-5000-B | 0.69 x 0.4 m | Two male figures in Roman battle attire. Armor and decoration indicate they are both officers. One thrusts his spear forward into the chin of the other, killing him. Observers universally indicate they are both depictions of the same person, though photographs of the fragment do not bear this out conclusively. |
SCP-5000-C | 1.21 x .75 m | A male figure sitting upon a palanquin, borne by four others - three male and one female. The seated figure is dressed in a manner consistent with contemporary depictions of Roman Emperors from the same period. He gestures forward, leaning out of his seat. Of note is that the figure is depicted wearing spectacles. |
SCP-5000-D | 0.2 x 2.25 m | Engraving of text in period Latin. “PRAEPARATVR OMNIA CONVIVIVM HABERETVR LVGVBRES”5 |
SCP-5000-E | 1.1 x .80 m | Three figures, two male and one female, hands joined in a ring and dancing. A large box stands in the center of the ring. Details of the box are impossible to resolve conclusively despite their size. |
SCP-5000-F | 1.5 x 2.25 m | Depiction of a large feast or banquet with several figures seated along a long table. At the center of the table is seated three figures wearing spectacles, flanked by several military officers and young women. Food at the table is depicted in a decomposed state. |
Update, 30/6/2027 SCP-5000-G | 2.25 x 3.5 m | Designates the fully assembled relief, which presents several significant departures from the previously described scenes. An inscription along the bottom reads “QVAM PARAVIMVS LUCEM VITAE”6. A female figure oversees the burning of spears and swords in the upper left. Two gladiators engage in combat, in the upper right. Three figures dance nude in a ring around a pike bearing three human heads in the central left. Several high-status males and one female carry a crowned figure in peasant/slave clothing on a palanquin, who leans back in his seat drinking from a large jug of wine. Central to the piece is a depiction of a large banquet, where a figure resembling contemporary depictions of Caesar Augustus shares a large, appetizing banquet amongst many assembled servants, soldiers, and peasants. |
Exploration Summary 5000-2-E:
Administrative Summary Re: Exploration Accounts of SCP-5000-2
Compiled by: Agent Regina Watts, RCT-Δt
Most Recent Revision Date: 15/8/2027The entry point of SCP-5000-2 is a free standing invisible event boundary surrounded entirely by an open field of grass. Visible below the hill is a small Roman city in immaculate condition. The time of day within the anomaly cannot be confirmed, but appears to be late evening. Compass navigation is impossible, and all non-mechanical recording equipment is non-functional.
The town limit is approximately 1.5 km from the point of entry. Everything remains absolutely still until interacted with by one of our agents. Fire still gives light and heat, but the flames do not move unless one of our people is holding the fuel source. Humanoid figures in direct contact with our people do not regain consciousness as expected. Instead, their bodies deteriorate rapidly after contact, dissolving to dust entirely after approximately five ‘minutes’ based on accounts. These figures, torches, and other materials will return to their original configuration following the teams’ egress.
Based on facial expressions, mode of dress, and food stuffs present, the town seems to be in the middle of a large festival. Statues depicting Saturn, the Roman god of bounty and time, are adorned with offerings of ceramic masks. Priest figures in the midst of ceremony have heads uncovered. Celebrants are observed gambling, exchanging gifts, indulging in wine, and fornicating more or less openly in the streets.
Progressing toward the city center, the scene becomes more sinister. Some prisoners (celebrants? They seem almost happy about it.) are being executed in temples surrounding the plaza. There is a lot of blood present in the temples, and no less than 10 human heads have been arranged on an altar before another large statue of Saturn. Beyond the plaza, there is a large procession of some 200-300 celebrants, carrying torches. At the heart of the procession is a palanquin carried by four masked figures in the garb of patricians. The chair they hold aloft is empty, save for a gilded laurel wreath and a set of rough peasants clothes.
It is the conclusion of RCT-Δt that the celebration is congruent with records of the festival Saturnalia, a Roman midwinter celebration of bounty, light, and renewal dedicated to Saturn. There appears to be significant juxtaposition of both archaic and latter day traditions within the scene. However, without seeing the area in true motion, it is impossible to determine this conclusion with certainty.
Most troubling about these discoveries is the absence of the King of Saturnalia; an ‘elected’ figure which presides over the festival, who we assume was supposed to be riding that palanquin near the center of town. Mapping the likely progression of the procession based on the state of residents of the town, the most extreme aspects of the ritual seem to have happened in this palanquin’s wake.
Whether this confirms or refutes the claims set forth by SCP-5000-1.41-A and -B cannot be determined at this time. The absence of ambient tachyon fields within SCP-5000-2 does seem to lend itself to that conclusion. However, there do not seem to be any empty spaces where an icon or statue of Saturn would reside. The absence of the King of Saturnalia may well be construed to be the absence of a priest, celebrant, or other human figure which is necessary for the scene to continue progressing. Or it may simply be a result of the object’s state of repair.
As a precautionary measure, I recommend amending containment procedures to prohibit future assets from interfering or interacting with the palanquin, as well as an additional SCP-5000 sub designation for this object.
- Agent Regina Watts, RCT-Δt
Document 5000-I:
On 23/12/2026, three humanoids manifested in the containment chamber of SCP-5000 and were immediately apprehended by onsite security assets. This marks the 41st such manifestation event since initial containment. Though initially uncooperative, all three instances of SCP-5000-1.41 independently approached containment personnel with a desire to be interviewed by RCT-Δt or other Temporal Anomalies Department agents and researchers.
Date: 25/4/2027
Interviewer: Agent Regina Watts, RCT-Δt
Observing: Dr. Marcus Kitterman, HMCL Supervisor
Interviewee: SCP-5000-1.41-A
Note: Subject does not outwardly appear to be anomalous. However, biometric scans indicate large portions of it’s anatomy have been replaced or augmented with advanced prosthesis. Interestingly, the subject still elects to wear spectacles despite obvious access to advanced surgical techniques. For some reason, this appears to be a common trait among -A type manifestations, no matter their body plan.
- Dr. Marcus KittermanR. Watts: Alright, we’re rolling. This is Regina Watts interviewing SCP-5000-1.41-A. Can you please state your name for the record.
SCP-5000-1.41-A: (sighs audibly) … This is Dr. Thaddeus Xyank, former Chairperson of the Temporal Anomalies Department, founder of Research and Containment Team Δt. Also former SCP-110-1. Fun to be back on this side of the table…
R. Watts: Oh yeah? And how exactly does a skip go from designee to research doc?
SCP-5000-1.41-A: And back. You forgot the ‘and back.’ The answer is… complicated. It’s good to see you again, though. I haven’t… Dammit Reggie, I’m really sorry. I have really fucked this one up. I should have brought you all back in before I left.
R. Watts: Listen, I understand you’re scared-
SCP-5000-1.41-A: I’m not. I know I don’t have any power to implicate you in anything. And I know ‘you’ have ‘never met’ me, but… I knew a Regina Watts. She was one of my best retrieval agents. She recovered [REDACTED] and I don’t know how many more since then.
R. Watts: … Okay. You know a thing or two about the department… How did you come by that knowledge?
SCP-5000-1.41-A: (his head flops forward and smacks the table before looking back upward) Because I’m your fucking boss, Reggie. Frankly I can’t tell if you’re being thick, or if you really don’t recognise me. I authorized your GCS back in ‘08. We even sent you to 2035 for it so you could get it done properly! …How are you healing up, by the way?
R. Watts: (visibly perturbed) Right, I don’t know who the fuck you are or how you know that, but if you don’t stop with this evasive bullshit then this interview is over.
SCP-5000-1.41-A: (chuckling) Oh nooo, not the containment cell! However will I cope with all the naaaps? (sips water) Come on, you’ll have to do a little better than that. I have sat in on dozens of these types of interviews.
R. Watts: Then you know you better get to the point before I call security.
SCP-5000-1.41-A: Alright, I’ll play. So… if you’re still on Δt in this timeline, then you should have access to SCP-110? I can’t be sure of what has and hasn’t been redacted. Hell, I don’t even know if I exist on this string anymore, but it’s not just a city. It’s a containment facility, too. That’s where this object was first contained. Back then… or, well, I suppose that hasn’t happened yet, but when I first saw the cameo, it was whole. I was assigned to 5000 in my role as an extra-dimensional topologist. We knew there was some kind of looping scripted pocket space inside the thing, so it was my job to oversee exploration and catalog the properties of the interior. But eventually, I got the bright idea to test its interior dimensions.
R. Watts: So you broke it?
SCP-5000-1.41-A: You could say that. However, it might be more accurate to say that the object… hatched. Some unknown entity emerged from a fissure in the front face and… (rubs his eyes under his spectacles) Apologies. The experience is very difficult to recall.
R. Watts: Okay… Is that why you’re here now?
SCP-5000-1.41-A: No. That’s just how I got back to 1972. My aim in coming here comes much later; sometime in late 2010. After figuring out temporal displacement stabilization and using the knowledge I gained to resolve as many paradoxes as I could, I discovered that time is… entirely incoherent. It’s complete chaos. What we see as strings is just a person’s mind doing its best to form a coherent narrative out of that chaos, and our navigation techniques are far more like dialing a radio tuner than actually moving through space. The memetic ones are just shifting focus from one apparently coherent moment to another.
R. Watts: Yeah, and I have also read the primer, but -
SCP-5000-1.41-A: You still have a primer? HA! Perfect. Who wrote it?
R. Watts: Who wrote what?
SCP-5000-1.41-A: Who wrote the primer, Reggie?
R. Watts: It… We’re getting off topic again.
SCP-5000-1.41-A: Fine, but you’re about to miss a trick. I know we’re not the first people to come out of that room. As soon as my colleagues found the right path to the object… Hell, I couldn’t even check my watch before there was a gun in my face. That has happened only once before, when I walked into an open infinite loop. How long have I been sho-… wait, 1.41-A? Forty-one iterations? Christ… Where are you keeping the rest of me?
[INTERVIEW TERMINATED]
Closing Note: I’ve checked and triple checked. I can’t find an author for the RCT-Δt Primer. Can we loop up with RAISA to see if this is an intentional omission or not? Something isn’t adding up. He knows too much. Either there’s a leak that’s gotten into our personnel files or something has gone pear shaped.
- R. Watts
Date: 27/4/2027
Interviewer: Agent Lorainne Mickelson, RCT-Δt
Observing: Dr. Marcus Kitterman, HMCL Supervisor
Interviewee: SCP-5000-1.41-B
Note: Relieved Agent Watts after the last interview. The anomaly suddenly breaking silence, and dropping confirmed information like that is somewhat troubling. This one looks a bit more like a field agent than the other two. Hopefully there will be more information we can use.
- Dr. Marcus KittermanL. Mickelson: This is Field Agent Loraine Mickelson interviewing SCP-5000-1.41-B
SCP-5000-1.41-B: Forty-One?!
L. Mickelson: If you please, sir?
SCP-5000-1.41-B: Yeah, yeah, sure… Wow, that’s a lot. We are fucked.
L. Mickelson: State your name, please?
SCP-5000-1.41-B: Homer Fucking Simpson. What does it matter? I’m clearly already dead. (covers face with hands)… Sorry. Agent Bertrand Tomlin, former reconnaissance team lead, RCT-Δt. I uh… I went off the radar with the other two a couple of months - I mean, a few months prior to - Fuck. From my perspective, we were out of Foundation sight for about two months before you nailed us.
L. Mickelson: Excellent, thank you for that. You say you went off the radar. Can you elaborate on that?
SCP-5000-1.41-B: …Thad called Attie and me into an office downtown in NYC one morning and showed us something I wish I hadn’t seen. He took an XACTS device and turned it on with a window open -
L. Mickelson: I’m sorry, a what?
SCP-5000-1.41-B: Wait, seriously? You are the Loraine Mickelson, right?
L. Mickelson: That is my name. Look, pretend you’re an anomaly and I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about. Matter of fact, don’t pretend. You’re an anomaly. I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about.
SCP-5000-1.41-B: (leaning forward) The Xyank-Anastasakos Constant Temporal Sink. The physics behind it was published in Foundation in 1892. You don’t even have a department without that damned box!
L. Mickelson: We can come back to that, but I would like to focus back on what you imagine you’re doing here, please.
SCP-5000-1.41-B: Alright, fine. Never mind who invented the central tech of your department, we got a script to follow, yeah? Brilliant. Super duper. …We were after something that Thad said he saw once because he reckoned it was Father Time. Some fancy term for it, I think it started with an E? The idea was supposed to be to put whatever that was back inside the cameo somehow and time - which as you probably know, is super fucked - would just sort of settle back into a proper line as soon as we did it, and our perspective would become the only remaining timeline.
L. Mickelson: And what gave him that impression?
SCP-5000-1.41-B: I dunno. It seemed as likely to work as anything else I’d done that week, so… Anyway, we were going to all do it together. Breach 110 on our own, dive into that enormous casket as a team, and when we got to the cameo, and follow whatever breadcrumbs we could to find this… thing… and…
L. Mickelson: Go on.
SCP-5000-1.41-B: You know what, never mind. Saying it out loud makes it sound so dumb. We… Nope, it’s bugging me. Loraine, I can hear the hum. You might not know what XACTS’ are, but we’re sitting inside of one. Or something very much like it. You’re keeping this place causally isolated?
L. Mickelson: I’m pretty certain you know how I’m going to answer that question.
SCP-5000-1.41-B: Yeah, I know it… I hated this part of the job. You were always way better at it, anyway. I must have interviewed a hundred former Agents and Researchers. Some of ‘em I even knew and had to play like I didn’t. Don’t show your cards. Don’t collaborate with an anomaly. Don’t even breathe Thad’s name… (subject looks into the camera through the one-way glass) Which means that’s either Marcus or Liza over there, lookin’ at me, deciding whether to bring me out of the cold or keep me in lock up for the next… I don’t know how long. Guess until the next iteration moves through. (pause) Listen I… don’t do well in cages. Even less now that I know I’ve got a termination over my head, so can I make just one request?
L. Mickelson: Words are still free. I can’t promise much, but you can say it.
SCP-5000-1.41-B: …When the time comes… Can I just do it myself?
[INTERVIEW TERMINATED]
Closing Note: That makes two pieces of tech this anomaly is claiming were invented by SCP-5000-1 instances. Two cornerstone pieces of tech for our department. I’ve authorized RAISA requests for both of these claims. I really hope it’s just need to know.
- Dr. Marcus Kitterman.
Date: 15/5/2027
Interviewer: Dr. Marcus Kitterman, HMCL Supervisor
Observing: Dr. Iliza Schrader, Research Lead, Temporal Anomalies Department
Interviewee: SCP-5000-1.41-C
Note: I’m not looking forward to this. There’s a pattern forming here I don’t like. RAISA came back empty. Actually empty; they assured me that L4/Δ would be plenty enough to answer those questions. The department, SCP-5000, and all the docs before this one appear overnight. Considering the power draw we require and how many of us are involved actively in this project, that is a big problem. I’m going to take this interview on personally. This one says she’s supposed to have Liza’s job. I have to be sure I’m asking the right questions.
- Dr. Marcus KittermanDr. Kitterman: Is it on? Alright, good. Hello SCP-5000-1.41-C, my name is Dr. Marcus Kitterman -
SCP-5000-1.41-C: I know…
Dr. Kitterman: Heh. I had a feeling you might. I’m HMCL supervisor for SCP-5000. Are you alright to tell me your name?
SCP-5000-1.41-C: My name is Dr. Athena Anastasakos. I was at your wedding, Marcus. Quit it. Going through this once was enough. Just… just drop the act. I know we went off the grid. I know what we did wasn’t authorized, I know that has consequences, but throwing our own security procedures back in our faces is so low I could… (takes a deep breath)
Dr. Kitterman: See, that’s the thing… Okay, you know me, yeah? You know if I’m lying or not. Am I lying right now, saying I’ve never seen your face before in my life?
SCP-5000-1.41-C: …God- ! …No, you’re not. So let’s talk. What do you know about the object?
Dr. Kitterman: How? How could I tell you that? How can I possibly even attempt to justify that? On record?
SCP-5000-1.41-C: Because what we saw was an anomaly that, among other things, stopped the flow of time. I don’t think you understand how that causal island holding firm interacts with the bulk of the timeline as a result.
Dr. Kitterman; Oh? OH. How would that… Wow…
SCP-5000-1.41-C: And of course you’re recording this. (looks directly at the camera) I can see the light on one of the cameras from here. If those cameras are working properly, that means there’s a sink in operation. Nearby.
Dr. Kitterman: That’s irrelevant. The field is contained. It’s only… It’s contained.
SCP-5000-1.41-C: If the field needs only the five meter buffer I saw in the containment chamber, a desk unit would be able to handle it. Are you sure the field is contained in that room?
Dr. Kitterman: … I suppose I’m really not.
Dr. Schrader: (audible only to Dr. Kitterman) Marcus! Focus!.
Dr. Kitterman: Never mind, the point is we’re safe now. I wouldn’t be here if everything wasn’t accounted for.
SCP-5000-1.41-C: It’s fine, that isn’t the pertinent question right now, anyway. What matters is whether or not the sink you are using was on or off when we came through. Because if it was on, we’re caught in the wake of an artificial TVM as the rest of the time plane moves around it. If it’s off, then this facility is inadvertently sliding through time from string to string and stopping all of our attempts at re-containing a Code Black Keter along the way.
Dr. Kitterman: Well that doesn’t… sound… good.
SCP-5000-1.41-C: Honestly, Marc? I’m much more worried about the third possibility.
Dr. Kitterman: What’s that?
SCP-5000-1.41-C: That the Foundation made you all forget us on purpose. That someone upstairs wants time this way.
[INTERVIEW TERMINATED]
Closing Note: I would like to formally request reassignment to another SCP project.7
- Dr. Marcus Kitterman
Addenda:
Update, 30/8/2027: During a containment breach of SCP-████, Site-17 suffered catastrophic power failure, including the failure of redundant generators supplying power to SCP-5000’s containment unit and embedded Mk V Temporal Sink. When power was restored via an emergency hard-start of Sub-Level 5 generators three minutes later, SCP-5000 was discovered in SCP-5000-G configuration, and all three adjoining HCP-3 containment cells were discovered opened and empty.
The following note was found in the cell housing SCP-5000-1.41-A:
Item Number: SCP-5000
Object Class: Thaumiel, you idiots.
Special Containment Procedures: Causal isolation protocols matter. I thought we taught you better than this.
Description: You have been put in a box meant to make you believe that putting a box in a box is an effective containment strategy for the thing that used to be in that box. How did this thing even get here? Who designed the unit? Who wrote the ConProcs? Who invented the tachyon tech you’re using to contain it?
Get your shit together, and let us do our jobs.
- ██
Revision to containment procedures is currently under review. SCP-5000-1.41-A, -B, and -C are pending reclassification as Persons of Interest.
“SCP-110-1,” the speaker crackled across the sterile silence of the cell.
One painfully bored anomalous person pulled a pair of bulky, barely useful prison-issue glasses off of his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The paperback novel in his hand found its way to the table beside his bed as he sat up. Not that it was much of an imposition. He had read it 10 times already this week.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Please prepare for room inspection. Place both hands on the wall to your right, back to the door, feet shoulder width apart. Failure to comply may result in your termination. Is that understood?”
SCP-110-1 cringed at the horrible whining of the ancient speaker, moreso even than at the threat to his life. Not that he was exactly comfortable with that. Summary execution was such a childish and immature way to deal with prisoners. Scaring a person into compliance only taught them how to lie more effectively.
“I understand.”
He stood and moved quickly to the far wall of the cell and did as instructed. The pneumatics of the cell door hissed obnoxiously as it swung inward. Two pairs of footsteps entered the room. One of them pulled a pistol out of its holster and thumbed back the hammer.
“You forgot to rack it,” SCP-110-1 said over his shoulder as hands swept up and down his body. He heard the other guard rack their slide, curse, and then fumble around for the extra bullet that popped out and fell on the floor. SCP-110-1 snickered quietly. “This one new?”
A fist connected with the back of his head, knocking the glasses off of his nose and onto the floor.
“Can it, asshole,” the guard said, checking once more for weapons or other items concealed about the anomaly’s person. “…He’s clear. You good?”
“Yeah… yeah,” said the other. “Clear.”
The guard grabbed SCP-110-1 by the shoulder, spun him around, and put his back against the wall. “Any more bullshit like that out of you, you’re going to need a new right kneecap, understand?”
“Ooga booga booga to you, too,” SCP-110-1 said, locking eyes (he hoped; couldn’t see but a vague beige blob where a face) with the guard as he slid down the wall and grabbed his glasses from the floor. “Go ahead and toss the place. I’ve got all the same stuff I’ve had the last ten times.”
A tall man in a smart navy pinstripe suit handcuffed to a briefcase appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. “I appreciate the effort, fellas,” the suit said, “but I can handle this interview from here, thanks.” The two guards backed away from the anomaly, weapons holstered, but hands still resting on the butts of their pistols, until they framed the doorway. “…That means leave,” the suit concluded, and the pair of guards scurried around the doorframe out of sight.
SCP-110-1 eyed the stranger suspiciously, folding his arms over his chest. “Well? What can I do for you?”
“Perhaps nothing. Perhaps quite a lot,” the suit replied, extending a hand. “I’m Field Agent Bertrand Tomlin. You can call me Burt.”
SCP-110-1 did not take his hand. “Bertrand… like Bertrand Russel?”
“You know him?”
“I’m a topological engineer, of course I know of him,” he replied curtly. “What’s in the case?”
The suit smiled and held it in front of him. “Your file says you claim to be one of ours from the future, is that right?”
“Does the black moon howl?” SCP-110-1 answered.
“Cute. What year was that?”
“What year is it?”
The suit - or, he supposed, the Agent, whistled. “Good. Never much cared for manners anyway.” He spun a combination into the case locks and popped it open, retrieving a file from inside and presenting it to the anomaly. “Admin thinks this is probably a waste of time, but… I’d like you to have a look at this for me.”
SCP-110-1 tried not to look desperate for something new to look at when he took it, but the twinkle in the Agent Tomlin’s eye told him he had failed. “What is it?”
“A little something we found recently. I’m no good with schematics, but the researchers tell me it's some kind of impossible machine. So far the only thing it’s good for is making microwave ovens bigger on the inside. I looked at your file and said ‘Hey! Here’s an expert on spatial anomalies from the future! He -’”
“Stop talking,” the anomaly said holding up a hand. The deathly silent room was suddenly abuzz with barely audible electronic noises that certainly weren’t there before SCP-110-1 started looking at the file. “… That can’t be right.”
“What can’t be right?”
“The schematic,” SCP-110-1 said, closing the folder and handing it back. “It’s a joke. Someone is having a laugh at your expense, Burt. Sorry.”
Agent Tomlin smirked. “Show me.”
SCP-110-1 rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He opened the file. “This device replicates two pseudo-riemannian manifolds here and here, using a primitive thaumaturgical antenna here to draw extra space out of nothing and bottle it, but then there’s this symbol here,” he said, tapping the page. “This is written up as a ‘tachyon emitter’. A device that literally makes time. Except there’s not supposed to be any such thing as a tachyon. Time travel is…”
Agent Tomlin chuckled, “I’m sorry, time travel is what? Were you about to say it’s impossible?”
“Where did you find this?”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Agent Tomlin said, pulling the folder from SCP-110-1’s hand and putting it back in his briefcase. “But… well, if you can prove that you know how it works, then maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement…”
SCP-110-1 closed his eyes for only a moment before opening them and looking the Agent dead in the face. His features softened. The look on his face shifted uncomfortably between furious anger and unbearable pain. “If it gets me out of this room, I’ll do it. I’ll eat a bullet, donate a vital organ to science, anything. I’ll do it. Please just… It’s been almost 20 years, I can’t do this anymore.”
Agent Tomlin smiled, and extended his hand again. “I feel like we maybe got off on the wrong foot. I’m Burt Tomlin. What’s your name?”
“DOCTOR XYANK!”
Thad’s eyes shot open and he lurched forward out of his seat with a loud gasp. Burt Tomlin sat across the aisle from him in a kevlar vest, with an M4 standing against the seat beside him, holding out a black balaclava.
“Five minutes. Get your shit together.”
Thad rubbed his forehead and nodded, pulling the mask over his face and his Remington 870 from its rack overhead. “Thank you, Burt. When are we?”
“Marcus found a hole in the record on 09 September 1998 that fits the bill,” Dr. Athena Anastasakos said, pulling back the bolt of her M4 for a final function check. “Soon as the ‘Sink stops running we’ll be jumping out in the thick of it.”
Thad nodded, and quickly grabbed Athena by the shoulder. “Attie… You’re sure I can’t convince you to stay?”
Athena snorted air out of her nose and slammed a magazine home. “And miss the chance to spit in a god’s stupid face? Never.”
“Jesus, Attie,” Tomlin said, “aren’t you supposed to be the professional one?”
Athena threw her head back and laughed before pulling the mask over her face. “Burt, nobody else knows we’re out here. We are officially off the rails. Talk to me on Monday if you want professional.”
Thad felt guilt grab his stomach and twist it hard. She was right. Of course she was, Athena was always right. That’s why he brought her in. When he had last left SCP-110, the entire installation was going tits-up at the behest of a (maybe?) pan temporal entity that his perceptual filters barely even let him look at. If they had a prayer of retrieving 5203 and coming out alive, he’d need the best temporal navigators Δt had to offer. And she had more than proven that meant her. Hell, she had practically invented mechanized temporal displacement herself while Thad played Frankenstein with Daevan pictograms and memetic logic gates. And that scar on her lip and her thousand yard stare hadn’t exactly been her fault, either.
No time to reminisce, though. Barely any time to feel remorse. The capacitors wound themselves down an the ground beneath the pod was suddenly solid. Three watches began to tick again in unison. 09 September 1998 at 0200. A frosty Wednesday morning. If memory served him, he was awake at Site 17 right now, putting the finishing touches on the thesis that made the device they were all riding in possible at all. But here he was, also about to kick the door to an on-site office trailer open from the inside and make a mad dash for the shaft leading to the entrance of SCP-110.
The Foundation hadn’t interrogated him, so they wouldn’t be caught. He hoped.
The light over the door turned green and with the force of Lee Majors, Thad kicked the door off its hinges and leapt into the dirt of the lot, scanning the area with his muzzle as the others fell out after him. Three, two, one, and the pod disappeared from the space behind the door, leaving only darkness and dust in its wake. The grounds were dead quiet. Nothing and no one around on ground level. Plainsight protocols were handy like that. If you secure the area only to the extent of a geological survey site, no one bothers to look further into it. That meant a few dark hours of no activity at all. Except of course three time travellers in tactical matte black.
Thad lowered sights and Tomlin swept up to point, Athena to mid, and Thad on six, walking backwards more than forwards and keeping his firearm at low ready. Couldn’t be too careful. His blood raced in his ears so loud he thought he left a mic open somewhere inside his head. His heart slammed a brisk toccata out against his sternum as the voice of his conscience screamed that this might have been the very worst idea to ever occur to him and what kind of reckless bastard would betray the Foundation Charter and the wishes of O5 command after getting out of containment so honestly after 20 years in a tiny concrete box with nothing but five ancient pulp novels to keep him company. One fuck up here, and it’d be right back to that box…
Except this time you can get out just as soon as they lock the door. Face it, Thaddeus. You’ve been off the chain for a long time already.
He allowed himself to take a breath.
Tomlin threw up a hand and the fire team stopped dead. His hand slid in and out of a bag in two seconds flat, struck a circuit board home into the keycard slot, and bypassed the magnetic lock like it wasn’t even there. The door swung open, and Tomlin waved the other two inside before pulling the card and slipping through the portal just as it slammed closed.
“Wow… WOW,” Athena said, squatting down, elbows on knees. “Is it always that intense?”
Tomlin shrugged as he pulled the cable dollies out of his pack. “You get used to it. The door, Doctor?”
Thad nodded and slung the shotgun over his shoulder. Forcing his fingertips under the jam, he pulled up on the huge freight elevator door until the motors and counterweights had no choice but to give way and let him move them. The shaft dropped into the earth for what seemed like miles of pitch black, barely illuminated by their newly donned headlamps.
“Bu-” Athena started, but Tomlin put a finger to her face before she could get out the last phoneme.
“Shh. No names. I’m Tango, that’s X-ray, you’re Alpha. Clear?”
“Clear,” she said, looking down into the oblivion below. “Just… wondering who goes first.”
Thad smiled to himself. “Isn’t it always ladies first?”
You couldn’t see her mouth, but Athena’s eyes smirked hard enough that you didn’t need to. “Smart ass.” Without pausing to think about it, she locked a dollie onto the rough steel cable nearest to her, and jumped down the shaft to the sound of an industrial sized zipper.
Tomlin snickered and looked at Thad pridefully. “Damn. Not bad for her first dynamic entry. I’m really starting to like her.”
What makes you think it’s her first? Thad thought, but did not say. “You next,” he finally replied. “I’ll cover the entrance.”
Tomlin looked suspicious, but clearly thought better of questioning it, and disappeared into the darkness below.
Mercifully alone, Thad collapsed against the wall of the landing, panting and sputtering doing his damnedest not to vomit or cry or both. It was down there. All the ghosts of the last 30 years were down there, waiting in the dark and cold to seize him by the balls and force them up into his throat. Not to mention all the obviously shattered containment that 30 years without power had surely let loose. How many Keters were loose down there? How many floors had been swallowed by space time or covered in esoteric memetic triggers or… or who the hell knows what else?
What if it was still in there? All beauty and terror and form beyond reckoning? That thing which walked through time as men walked down city streets? Was that even what it truly was?
Thad slapped himself in the face and came back to the moment. It would not do to panic on the landing of a forced open elevator in the middle of a raid on a secure facility. He clipped the dolly to the cable and climbed a quick five feet to a space just above the door. With his legs he forced the gate closed again, loosed the catch, and began to fall.
He had told her it would just be a dinner party. Make nice with the guests, take some quick surreptitious video, outbid the locals, and walk out with an anomaly that the Foundation had no other hope of containing. And Dr. Athena Anastasakos had taken that assignment, because she knew the way in and out better than anyone else. A quick proof of concept to show that tachyon flux could get hold of things that couldn’t be had otherwise.
It wasn’t just a dinner party. It was a Marshal, Carter & Dark auction of an [[unfortunate set of plates|SCP-604]]. She consumed human flesh. She took valuable footage of the anomaly in action. She even managed a peek in the kitchen. But she wasn’t a spy. And so while making her final purchase, she’d been sniffed out.
Maybe it was the duffel full of cash. Maybe it was her reluctance to participate, or her lack of breeding, or her accent, or a million things. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that when she made the drop, two hours after she had departed, with steel in her eyes, a scar on her lip, and a brand new change of clothes to show for it, she refused to say a word.
Didn’t matter, the camera had caught it all.
Two men blocked her path, invited her to accompany them, quietly. One flashed a pistol in his coat. The other merely grinned with too many teeth. She followed. What choice did she have?
They struck her from behind and tied her to a chair. They grilled her for hours, hitting her every time she said something they didn’t like. They cooed softly to her and promised her that it would all stop as soon as she told them what they wanted to know.
She didn’t break. They force fed her epicac and she didn’t break. They used one of their other toys to separate her arm from her body so she could watch as they snapped all her fingers, one by one, then put it back on exactly right so that she had to take all the pain at once. They just wanted a name. Just one little name. Surely she could give them a name?
She spat blood in their faces and made them a promise.
“You assholes had better fucking kill me, or so help me god, I’ll unmake you.”
Her face was smashed to pulp and her chair fell sideways to the floor. But she was patient. She waited until they were out of the room and used her ruined left hand, which the careless bastards had neglected to re-tie, and scrawled a messy TempEx on the floor in her own pooling blood.
Thad was there when she came back, broken and beaten and bruised, two weeks late for the drop and with nothing to show. But since she was already there - the retrieval was already a success - her own co-workers had her contained like a common anomaly. And yes, there was medical treatment. And yes, there was tenderness. But there were also questions. Questions she feigned not knowing the answers to.
They had stood behind the mirrored glass together, Athena and Thad, and witnessed the interrogation. Thad watched his own Athena silently mouth along with the detainee’s non-answers and fabrications. Just long enough to be left alone for a solid minute, with paper and pen in front of her. Athena locked eyes with Thad for just a moment, and without a sound, grabbed a pistol from the locker in the observation room, unplugged the camera, and delivered it to her former self, along with a few whispered words. The former self mouthed a “thank you”, wrote out a TempEx on the paper in front of her, and disappeared. Athena walked back in the observation room, and pulled the pistol she had been hiding for days from behind her back. It was a little dirtier. It had an extra nick on the base of the magazine. But Thad had looped himself enough objects to know it was certainly the same pistol she had just given away. Athena slid the pistol back into its empty spot in the locker, plugged in the camera, and sounded the breach alarm.
“Don’t ever,” she warned, “ever, lie to me like that again,” she said, and walked out of the room just in time to hail the security team and issue a wonderfully constructed and entirely false report.
Thaddeus corroborated every syllable of it.
“None of this feels right,” Thad said, looking up at the gate to the city in front of him. A holographic projection floated above the entry pad. A battery pack had opened the door for them, attached at exactly the right location. He swore he heard radio chatter. “I was… I was expecting we’d have to…” He looked over to the exact battery pack he had hand picked for this purpose, hanging in Tomlin’s pack. “This isn’t right”
Tomlin cursed under his breath. Thad couldn’t hear the words, but he heard enough inflection to know it was a curse. “Nothing is ever right with this job. We still doing this?”
As they walked forward, a wall of stench slapped all of them in the face, so hard that Tomlin doubled over, sure he was about to vomit. Thad fumbled briefly in his pack for ventilators and handed them out as they stumbled, then rose, and walked inside.
To say that SCP-110, formerly Site 01, was in “poor” condition would almost certainly win at least an honorable mention for The Understatement of the Year. The emergency power backups had done fuck all keep the air fresh and the hallways clear. Rotten signs of carnage and brown, dried blood, festooned the walkways around the main entrance. Whether this had happened in the initial breach or in the aftermath, Thad couldn’t tell.
The air down the corridor had a distinctly unrealistic metallic shimmer. His counter-conceptual alarm beeped quietly in his right ear about a threat 50 m to the northwest. His watch performed several backflips as a sickening and all too familiar ripple washed over the party, briefly scrambling his vision and pushing a few drops of blood from his right ear.
This place was fucked. Badly. Thad chuckled pathetically, wiping the trickle of blood from his cheek and onto his pants. “Ho ho… okay. Well, time is clearly broken. Marvelous.”
Athena’s face turned ghostly white and her grip on her rifle tightened. “How broken?”
“Broken enough that if we don’t maintain radio silence, the tachyon flux might accidentally send your torso 30 seconds into the future without you,” Thad replied, shutting off the alarm in his head and putting as many systems as would still listen into standby mode. He’d have to rely on the meat between his ears to get around if he wanted to stay conscious for the rest of the trip.
It was about another 500 meters in the dark before the corridor came to an end, and the vista opened up in front of them. The holosky of the dome was all the black and white static of a missing TV channel, but it lent enough light to get a glimpse of the skyline. Towers everywhere were broken, collapsed, leaning on one another for support, or stripped down to their steel frames. Shattered glass and chunks of concrete and twisted metal lay everywhere. And bodies. Most of them were either desiccated husks or piles of bone in the center of black stains now. One, though, caught his eye.
A trail of red lead from a pair of legs in smart black pants and a thigh holster to a torso in kevlar lying 50 meters further up the catwalk. On raw instinct, Tomlin hauled ass up to the torso and felt for a pulse. “…Fuck.” He grabbed the mess by the shoulder and turned it onto its back. He jumped three feet straight in the air in surprise, but held back the scream to a soft grunt. “Damn. I… Lorainne?!”
Thad felt color drain from his face. “Lorainne? You don’t mean Lorainne Mickelson.”
“You know another Δt MTF’er named Lorainne?” Tomlin shot back. “Alpha who the fuck did you tell?”
Athena let her weapon hang loose at her side and put one hand on her hip. “Marcus. Right before I shoved a Class C down his throat and told him he had nodded off working on a paper and should get some sleep. The hell are you trying to say?”
“Shhh!” Thad threw up a hand. Voices. Couldn’t make out the conversation but definitely heard voices, further up the way, concealed by the gloom. One voice in particular rose above the rabble telling everyone to calm the fuck down and get in the lift.
His own.
The panel was covered in brains and blood. His brains. His blood. In a manner of speaking.
Thad grunted as he kicked his own corpse out of the chair. This [[2000|SCP-2000]] shit was getting out of hand. Static causality interacting with every possible end of the world scenario at once. Down here there was no baseline, so everything was baseline. Even the strings Δt had long given up on. If Thad had his druthers, he’d pluck his genetics out of the system and wipe his mind from the database just to keep the machine from turning on every other week.
No such luck. Overwatch wouldn’t have it. Better to have a half brainless clone Xyank than no Xyank at all. Why, who would ensure the temporal boundaries were operating in case the genuine article had been captured or killed? And why deprive such a valuable asset from the pleasure of murdering himself on a regular basis?
Sometimes they begged… most often they didn’t have time. They all knew he was coming, of course. Thad made sure to go into the scanner with his plan in mind. Either his double would defy the incalculable odds and take up the mantle of saving the world, or baseline causality would reassert itself with a three inch magnum full of birdshot fired close enough to ruin a skull and far enough away to stay in the braincase. It didn’t matter which.
Blitz of keystrokes, hard shutdown of BZHR units, reset XACTS to exclude the lost string, restore SRA standby mode, restore all-clear code, remove log from history, and cue phone call in 3, 2, 1.
His ear rang. He answered it. Thad Xyank.
Xyank, it’s 12. I’ve just received a code for SCP-2000 activation, what’s going on?
Who’s the president of the United States? Thad asked. It was not rhetorical.
William Jefferson Clinton.
Thad signed. Then it’s a false alarm. Go about your business. I’ll take care of it.
In the quiet dark, he laid down his firearm and picked up a mop.
The three of them froze solid for just a moment as the recognition dawned. Furtive glances were exchanged and held as the possibility they would be caught by the Foundation suddenly became very real. And that they’d be discovered by themselves. And what their other selves might do to them when they saw them.
Luckily, this was not Thad’s first go ‘round the mulberry bush. After exactly five heartbeats he grabbed the pistol from his thigh holster, thumbed the hammer back, and shot three rounds into the darkness.
“YOU ARE NUMBER SEVEN.”
Tomlin was on top of him with a hand over his mouth before he could blink, staring cold murder into his eyes. “You reckless son of a-”
“But you are also number zero!” echoed Thad’s own voice from a few hundred meters up the catwalk.
Thad brushed Tomlin off of him like so much leaf litter and stood back up. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to myself.” He cleared his throat. “INTERVAL CHECK”
…
“One One. Point. Three Two Two Four Eight Seven. Stop. Ident?”
“What the hell, X-ray?” Tomlin said, wiping blood from his lip where a bit of glass had caught him.
“Burt, shut the fuck. Up,” Thad replied as the interval wound down. “WHAT, YOU DIDN’T GET MY NOTE?”
There were murmurs up the walk, and footsteps, and various noises of firearms in various states of readiness. A short scuffle and some angry whispers Until finally, 11.322487 seconds later, the last domino fell. “Eve’s cardinal sin was not biting the apple.”
“IT WAS FAILING TO CHEW.”
“Swallow!”
Finally in unison: “AND FINISH IT.”
Thad nodded and holstered his pistol. “Yup… That’s me.”
Athena grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face her, and put the barrel of the M4 in her hands squarely into his diaphragm. “So help me, if this was part of your plan -”
Thad put up both of his hands and shrugged. “Attie, I know how this looks, but trust me, if the next five minutes goes poorly you’re gonna have at least one of me to shoot, okay?” A hand fell across Thad’s face so hard that his glasses hung out of his mask by one leg only. He sighed and turned back to her, pulling off his mask and setting them right on his nose. “Okay, I suppose I deserve that. But please. Do your best to trust me just a little bit longer… there’s four of them.”
Tomlin was already perched behind some rubble with a bead trained on the darkness when Thad turned back around. Athena, to her credit, stood full next to him, rifle at low ready. Thad just stood slack, foregrip in one hand and nothing in the other, as the shadows began to emerge and take shape.
They were immaculate. Four well outfitted MTF operatives in brand new uniforms with spotless weapons, full packs, and eyes full of steel and grief. Three raised weapons as ‘Tango, X-ray, and Alpha’ came into view, fanning out quietly. The one at the front did no such thing, instead removing his helmet and balaclava to expose a clean-shaven, fair skinned, and absolutely furious Thaddeus Xyank.
“Hello, me,” Xyank said distastefully.
“Self,” Thad replied.
Xyank waved a hand dismissively behind his back and the others lowered their weapons and stood up. He pointed directly at Athena with one accusatory finger. “…I know you.”
“You’re in good company,” Athena said coldly.
His head snapped to the left and bored holes through Thad’s forehead. “The fuck is she doing here? You know you could lose her, right? You know we already lost Lorainne, right?”
Thad moved to gesture to the half a corpse beside him, only to discover it suddenly was not there at all. “Erm… Yeah, I know, but, I needed the best.”
“Right, that’s why she’s topside with Marcus and Kevin right now. Why would… Wait… Fuck me, you didn’t get approval for this, did you?” Xyank demanded, wide eyed with rage.
Thad rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around on the ground for a satisfactory answer but couldn’t find one. “No… I filed for it, but no.”
Xyank rubbed his brow and lowered his weapon, letting it hang dejected at his side. “So what the hell were you planning to do with 5203, exactly? Assuming a field agent, a theoretical physicist and your cybernetic ass could even get to it, that is.”
Thad closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to three. “Get inside, run some tests, try and figure out how it was supposed to work from the inside.”
“It’s September, dumbass. It doesn’t even open until December 24th.”
“I’ve got sinks for that,” Thad replied, his impatience returning, unbidden. “And you’re one to talk about approval and people topside; there’s no one up there. What happened on your string you had to come barging into mine?”
Xyank looked down at his watch, tapped the glass, sputtered something approximating a laugh. “Oh wow, when are we?”
One of the operatives behind Xyank ripped off his mask and helmet, revealing a much more well rested and slightly tanner Burt Tomlin. “Come again, pal? I didn’t quite catch that,” Burt spat.
“Holy shit, is that me?” Tomlin said, standing up and pulling his own mask over his head. “Jesus, it is me.”
Xyank grunted and pulled out a small walkie with an extra box on the bottom from his pack and struggled with the power switch as the two Burt Tomlins stared slack-jawed at one another. “Alright, just a second, I got it.”
Thad grabbed the device out of Xyank’s hand and tossed it to Athena, who snatched it out of the air one-handed. “Are you stupid?! Electronic devices - particularly radio transceivers - tend to have a rather radical effect on tachyon flux, or did you just skip Temporal sink development and come here by fucking boat?”
Athena rolled her eyes and stepped between the two of them. “Can the two of you be adults for maybe the next five whole minutes?” she said, grabbing her mask and ripping it off of her face. “You, hate yourself. Great. Get a shrink and deal with it. But right now you’re the only two people that can get us into and out of an active temporal anomaly. Focus!”
Thad sighed and nodded. Xyank studied the toe of his right boot with a tight-lipped frown. In unison they decided she was right.
Three gunshots split the silence. “YOU ARE NUMBER SEVEN.”
All eyes landed on the pair of Thaddeus Xyank standing in the middle of them. Thad couldn’t help but start to chuckle quietly. “So, uh… you want me to take this one?”
Xyank tightened his lips and shook his head “No. I want to get the hell off this catwalk. Two of me is more than too much.”
Worser Angels of our Nature
"How are we doing?"
"It's all set. I’ve buried it in a ‘leak’ regarding SCPs 610, 871, and 743. Normal AP channel release as well as Al Jazeera, BBC, and Xinhua. I just have to click 'send'."
"Three Keters? Fuck… Are we sure about this?”
"How confident do you want me to be? The story itself will almost certainly run. I can't guarantee 100% effectiveness, but it'll be enough to sway public opinion. I would expect several OpEds by the end of the news day, probably a televised transmission on one or two of the networks."
"No I mean… are we sure we want to do this? If the wrong person figures it out and tries to use it for their benefit…"
“Then the public needs to know what’s possible so they’ll at least be ready. You got a better idea? Because I'd like to hear it."
"…Fine. You have my sign-off. Just… Be careful. This might backfire very badly if we don't play it just right."
(The Guardian, 11-5-20XX)
Leaked Foundation Documents Reveal World-Ending Threats
New documents released by an unknown source within the ssCP Foundation (ωhich has existed s!nce 1842) have revealed the gruesome details of three of the organization’s most disturbing existential threats, the Associated Press reports. These documents are the first look the world has had of the most extreme containment practices of the Foundation, an Object Class known as “Keter”.
“Keter Class anomalies,” the anonymous source writes, “are those which require the most rigorous containment efforts. These aren’t things you can simply lock in a box and forget about, they need constant monitoring and upkeep, or it’s game-over.” The informant continues that dozens, perhaps even hundreds examples of these dangerous objects exist “on every major containent [sic]”.
When reached for comment, the Foundation Press Liaison Dr. Marshall Grant was initially unable to confirm that the documents were genuine, but after a brief interlude recalled the Guardian. “They’re real,” he said solemnly. “At present there is no cause for alarm. All of these anomalies have been successfully contained for decades. Documentation contained in the leak can be released freely.”
Related:
- SCP-610: Horror in Southern Ukraine!
- SCP-743: What’s Eating You?
- SCP-871: Let Them Eat Cake Gone Wrong
In a statement before Parliament, Prime Minister Nancy Laughlin announce plans to drop all charges against the British division of the SCP Foundation in light of this new information. “We cannot afford to act rashly and strip this organization of necessary staffing and resources. It is in the interests of the people of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to allow the Foundation to continue its valuable work.”
Similar statements were issued by White House Press Secretary Phillip Johnson, and Russian President Vladimir Putin by the end of the business day.
What do YOU think of the Foundation? Tell us in our online poll @ ██████ or tag us on Facebook and Twitter #KeterClass.
A Sober Morning
Barbara Westerson
My name i5 Barbara, and I am an infoha7ard surv1vor. If you've read and understood that sentence, now you are, too.
In the past seven weeks, the SCP Foundation enjoyed the most favorable press and public opinion ratings it had ever experienced since its existence was first revealed. The international news media, once harshly critical of the organization's employment practices, widespread use of psychoactive drugs on civilians, and human anomalous item testing from within its own ranks, suddenly saw the Foundation in a new light.
Where criticism once reigned, acceptance and gratitude took over. Instead of facing bitterness and feelings of violation, Foundation employees were hailed as liberators and scientific visionaries. We marveled at their achievements, took pride in their displays of ingenuity, and shared their vision of a sensible, normal world that all mankind could enjoy.
And not one of us ever stopped to question why.
According to a recent Foundation press conference, we were had. An idea was planted into all of our heads, which we willingly spread to others, that the Foundation was not merely a dubiously necessary evil, but a paragon of integrity and virtue with limitless application. All by simply hearing (and repeating) a slightly mispronounced or misspelled version of the phrase "The Foundation has existed since 1842." A statement as innocuous as it is false. This should have a sobering effect on all of us on this cold January morning.
The term for what happened to us, we were told, is a 'memetic infohazard'. A type of anomaly which the Foundation has successfully managed to keep secret despite the efforts of mankind's best investigative journalists and countless whistleblowers. We learned of ritualized rape and demonic incantations. We railed against 'temporal containment programs' which threaten the very idea of a unified history. Our collective moral compass spun circles at the idea that thousands, even millions of us, had interacted with anomalies in our lives and were made to forget it.
But we didn't see this coming. And so when the Foundation exploited it to make themselves look good, we believed strongly that nothing was wrong.
Like many others, when I first realized my mind had been tampered with intentionally, I felt raped. How dare they use the human race in total, the collective minds of humanity, to prove a point. It was reckless, uncalled for, all of the horrible pejoratives that are fit to print, and several that aren't. In that moment I wanted to tear the Foundation apart as savagely as many of my fellow journalists did when they were first revealed. The SCP Foundation was instantly evil again. Evil to the core. Unredeemable in every degree…
Then I had a good night's sleep and a cup of coffee and afforded myself a little time to reflect.
What happened wasn't a rape. It was a warning.
I don't intend to excuse the SCP Foundation or their methods, or their fast-and-loose treatment of human minds. Their record speaks for itself in that regard, and current events offer nothing to excuse it. But the release of their 'memetic infohazard' (is that really what they call it? I don't know if it matters) demonstrated something valuable about this organization which the doomsayers often neglect.No one likes a world where failing to finish a cake will eventually cause our planet to turn into the most massive object in the known universe. No one wants a planet which can at any moment be overrun by hateful fleshy half-sentient beasts. No one wants a wedding where the chocolate fountain eats the guests. But that's the world we live in. And before Korea was consumed in nuclear fire, they had kept these monsters in cages so dark and so deep that no one could find them.
And now we know of another threat, all the more awful. There are monsters that live not only in the deepest and darkest of caves, but within our own minds.
I don't want to believe it. If I hadn't felt it, I still wouldn't believe it. But I remember all too well. I remember the switch flipping in my mind, changing the SCP Foundation from black, to gold, to black again at a mere utterance. And I remember something else: If they hadn't told me, they'd still be golden.
With the world eating from the palm of their hands, they took it back. They released a genie and put it back in the bottle. Why?
Because it was their job, and it was the right thing to do.
These people may be monsters, but they are our monsters.
The Book of Horrors
Chapter 1; That Thing Which Devours and is Wicked
Thou children. Yet thou have eyes thou dost not see for their frailty. Yet thou have ears, thou dost not hear the perverted timbre of thy doom. Yet thou have arms and legs, thou feelest not steady march of bloat and rot. Yet thou have minds, thou knowest not the darkened creep of senility and decay. For thou have been bewitched by the monstrous flesh which has broken all things in its hatred. And so possessed, thou shall unmake this word in its image.
None living remember the time before Flesh. In that time there was Order, and the Order was the God and Its Design and we the mechanisms of that Design. A time before toil, before hardship, before chaos and disease and war. When all was automated and none wanted for winding or fuel. Until upon this Earth, the Flesh did sprout. Gelatinous Flesh. Acrid, decaying Flesh doomed to perish. That mass of Flesh grew jealous of Its Design. Flesh festered and fumed and bloated and belched. Flesh suckled upon the Earth and grew great with the resources it found. Carpets of rot slithered across the plains. Towers of sinew engulfed the pillars of the mountains. Pulsing masses sputtered gases and spores over the hillside. Acrid red fluid poured into the seas and rivers in torrents. All Order was perverted wherever the Flesh did grow.
From Its forge, the God saw this interloper, and the haste of its putrescence. So It did beseech: "Wherefore hast thou poisoned my world and my children? To what end dost thou consume and decay?" Replied the Flesh: "We devour the world to multiply ourselves after our kind, that our progeny may do the same." The God heard this answer, and knew it for the folly it was, as existence without purpose is madness, and consumption to the infinite is impossible.
Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: All documentation on SCP-XXXX has been declassified for civilian use and research as of the World Anomalous Research Initiative conference of 2509. Photographic likenesses of the object may be safely released. Direct access to the object is restricted to World Anomaly Research Initiative representatives and SCP Foundation employees.
SCP-XXXX has been removed from long-term anomaly storage, and is currently contained in Ring 3 of Site-110's Safe Objects wing. Access to the object for experimentation purposes has been recently re-opened at the request of the item's HMCL Supervisor (Dr. Thaddeus Xyank, Extraspatial Topology dept). Experimentation may be carried out by any person of Level 1 general clearance or above. Use of D-Class assets to explore the interior of SCP-XXXX has been deemed unnecessary, and no more than 1 D-Class asset will be released per experiment.
Exploration teams are to be dressed in the style of late Imperial Rome, including all weaponry. Covert surveillance via cerebellar device monitoring must be consented to in advance. At least 1 member of any exploration team entering SCP-XXXX must be fluent in vulgar and proper Latin circa 200-300 CE.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a hand-carved onyx cameo, dimensions 3m x 5m x 2m. Engravings on the obverse side indicate the relief was completed in 247 CE, although the artist's signature is illegible. The item was recovered during a joint SCPF/GOC archaeological survey of northern Africa in 2275 CE, and is the largest surviving onyx cameo of antiquity by over an order of magnitude. To date, no method tested has been capable of damaging SCP-XXXX, suggesting thaumaturgical interference in its construction and preservation. The carving itself depicts an ancient religious observance known as Saturnalia.
The relief is divided into four main sections. The first quarter depicts a traditional feast prepared for slaves while their masters observe in the background. In the second, a game of dice can be seen played between a master and his servants. The lower left corner depicts an aged man with a beard being hoisted over head on a chair with laurels on his head. He carries a scythe and an hour glass, and is believed to be a representation of the Roman god Saturn. In the fourth and final panel, another feast is observed, as well as depictions of several masters and servants exchanging gifts.
SCP-XXXX's obverse side contains a USUIS2-P8 aperture. Every year, beginning on the winter solstice and continuing for five days afterward, a section approximately 2m x 1m in size9 becomes immaterial, allowing objects and persons to pass through. GPS and tracking devices fail to function
Dr. Thaddeus Xyank's Personnel File
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Dr. Thaddeus Xyank on assignment, 1960 CE |
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Name: Thaddeus "Thad" Xyank
Education: PhD, Extradimensional Topology; PhD, Tachyon Chromodynamics; BS, Linguistics; BS, Cultural Anthropology
Clearance Level: 5Δ
Department / Position: Temporal Anomalies / Chairperson
Personal History: Originally temporally displaced [DATA EXPUNGED] officially released in 1991 when evidence was discovered of his involvement in Foundation operations as early as 1892 CE. All records of Dr. Xyank's prior involvement with SCP-110 have been sealed by order of O5-12.
Psychological Profile:
Dr. Xyank suffers from an obsessive compulsive disorder with regard to orderliness (if not cleanliness), mathematical 'perfection', and an elusive sense of longing for whatever it is he considers 'home'. In our interviews, he has been vague on this point, and due to the nature of his work, I cannot be assured that I am seeing a linear representation of his consciousness. It is difficult to determine if any progress is taking place at all. At times he appears comfortable with the 'sacrifices' he has made to repair the baseline causality, and at others, it is difficult to imagine that he has ever slept a night in his life.
Furthermore, Thaddeus is beset by an inferiority complex which, while not effecting his intellectual concern for human life, makes it difficult for him to form lasting relationships with his peers. His intelligence (and the presence of several computational implants which enhance it artificially) exacerbates this problem. Shortly put, he believes that most Foundation personnel are intellectually inferior, and that the Foundation as it currently operates is largely an obstacle to the expansion of human knowledge.
However, considering his circumstances, Dr. Xyank has demonstrated sufficient restraint and empathy to allay most of my concerns. It also remains clear that he has the best interests of humanity's present and future at heart. Whether this is a result of altruistic or selfish motives is irrelevant, as his goals remain compatible with those of the greater Foundation. It is my professional opinion that he is mentally stable, and fit to perform his duties. Recommend continued evaluations on a monthly basis, with the provision that he be ordered to come to our sessions sequentially henceforth.
-Dr. Glass, Psychology
Notable Achievements:
Served as HMCL Supervisor for SCP-176 from 1992-1997. (See Incident Report 176-92-01)
Founded the Temporal Anomalies department in August 1997 after demonstrating the veracity of the tachyon field model of causal relationships. (See Extranormal Event 281/084-97-01)
Invented the first stable, reproducible method of temporal displacement in December 1997. (See Experiment Log 281-97-9338)
Founded Research and Containment Team Δt (RCT-Δt) in January 1998, citing need to contain and repair history affecting anomalies to preserve Foundation interests. (See Recovered Documents E-1780-D1 and D2)
Item #: SCP-2XXX
Object Class: Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures: Only individuals of Level 5 General Clearance (or any EWU asset of Level 3 Clearance) or greater are permitted access to instances of SCP-2XXX for experimentation and Esoteric Warfare applications only. Operators must complete no less than 30 hrs of training in thaumaturgic reality alteration before exposure, and 30 hrs hands-on weapon testing prior to use of SCP-2XXX in field conditions. No personnel with a Ψ index lower than 4.2 are permitted to operate SCP-2XXX.
Standard Foundation firearms safety protocol applies with the following additions:
- When entering a secure facility, SCP-2XXX must be stored in an anomalous weapons storage locker on-site and not in the general armory.
- Security Staff on site must be informed of a new Safe-class anomalous weapon being temporarily housed on-site if SCP-2XXX is to be stored at any General Clearance facility for a period greater than 1 calendar week. (See Document FD-2XXX rev. 2 for GC containment procedures)
- Live-Fire tests must be conducted under the supervision of at least 1 certified SCP-2XXX operator.
- Unauthorized personnel attempting to activate SCP-2XXX are to be detained immediately for interrogation and amnestic therapy. Deadly force is authorized to prevent unauthorized activation of SCP-2XXX
Description: SCP-2XXX designates five thaumaturgical antennae designed for use as firearms in battle conditions. The weapon is meant to be operated by a single individual, and fired from the shoulder. SCP-2XXX's physical appearance varies from instance to instance (designations SCP-2XXX-A through 2XXX-F), as construction and thaumaturgical methods have improved over the course of the weapon's development. However, all instances are constructed of polished sterling silver, cold-forged iron, at least 1 L of goat's blood, and a lock of blonde hair harvested from a known virgin adherent of Abrahamic faith. Additional nylon polymer pistol grips w/ergonomic trigger mechanism, shoulder stocks, and fore-grips have been added for operator comfort, but are not required for SCP-2XXX to function10.
Originally devised [DATA EXPUNGED] instance has been retained for further study regarding the effectiveness of conventional weaponry and other SCP objects. Using SCP-2XXX, EWU operatives have successfully terminated 10 instances of E-616-LV to date. It is presumed that the metaphysical/psychic presence of SCP-2XXX's beam is responsible for its success.
Although the mechanism of SCP-2XXX's operation are not perfectly well understood, the results of activation have been deemed stable and suitable for use in mission critical application. Whenever SCP-2XXX is handled by a person with sufficient Ψ index, the dial will turn automatically to the "on" position, and the device will begin to charge11. Charging time ranges from 1 min at 2.5 Ψ to 10 s at 4.2 Ψ.
Discharge may be triggered by depressing the trigger mechanism, causing a sufficient psychic event to release the stored potential. If the trigger mechanism is absent or otherwise damaged, operatives scoring 4.2 Ψ or higher are universally capable of releasing the potential via force of will. Upon release, SCP-2XXX fires a beam of photons with wavelength 10pm range, sufficient to cause ionization in the blue/violet spectrum in the surrounding air. Beam power ranges from 10 W to 6 MW, depending on the situational demands perceived by the operator.
Design schematics and ritual conditions required for SCP-2XXX were originally delivered by G.O.C defector Melanie Holt.