Do not edit other writers' sandboxes without permission.
- Spitting Distance and Velocity
- Class B Amnest-Rick
- That's What She Said
- Yo Mama
- Fake News
- Welcome Aboard (v2)
- The Ends of the Earth
- Rusty the Wonder Dog
- Indirectly Offensive Graffiti
- A Past Vision of the Future
- Document 2000-LE-L
- A Polarizing Review
- proposed contribution to Observation Log 709
- Vampire Canon
- Impossibly Decadent Ice-Cream Cake
- (under construction)
- Welcome Aboard (v1)
Spitting Distance and Velocity
aka
Clef and Kondraki vs SCP-4040
An S&C Plastics Tall Tall Tale!
The bright red corvette blasted down the mountain trail, the roar of its heavily modified engine followed closely by the monstrous cacophony of more than half a dozen snarling crocodiles moving at over 240 miles per hour.
"IT'S GAINING ON US," Kondraki shouted, jumping on the brake and the gas at the same time while spinning the wheel. The car power-slid around a hairpin turn, gravel and skree from the road tumbling down the sheer cliff face.
"GET DOWN!" Clef shouted, spinning towards the driver's seat and firing the octuple-barreled shotgun at point blank range.
"WHAT?" Kondraki yelled back, cupping one hand around his ear after ducking under the shotgun blast.
The white-hot sodium pellets ripped through the air, narrowly missing a single drop of sweat that released from Kondraki's head. It's not that the combination of sodium and water would be explosive, so much, it's more that the water would be too busy being on fire to explode.
The Croctotpus, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. Clef saw the whole thing playing out in slow motion. As one scaly, green tentacle reached in through the driver's side window and opened its massive jaws to swallow Kondraki whole, the soft metal fragments tore through the dripping wet maw of the creature, donating electrons like Bill Gates on December 31st.
The Crocotpus's remaining seven arms bellowed in reptilian agony as the massive creature toppled backwards off of the vehicle, the flaming crocodile head that had tried to take a bite out of Kondraki letting out one final shriek of rage as the chain reaction reached its bone marrow, and the crocodile skeleton of that entire tentacle was momentarily visible through its flesh, glowing white hot in the center of the red and black conflagration. Then the Croctotpus's bulbous, round head struck the pavement… and seemed to bounce. Its giant, beady eyes watched their car go with a knowing alien intellect, even as it rolled end-over-end in a fleshy, uncontrolled tumble. The surviving seven tentacles roared and gnashed their toothy maws as the monster's body disappeared around the rapidly receding bend.
And it was at this moment that Clef suddenly saw the fatal flaw in his plan.
"Octopusses don't have bones," he gasped in horrified realization as the sports car careened off a cliff.
"OCTOPUSSES DON'T HAVE BOOOOOOOOOOOOOONES!!!"
"OCTOPI!"
The sports car exploded in midair just as Clef and Kondraki leapt away from it in opposite directions.
"I can't believe you let him get away," Clef grunted as he rapidly hacked a path through the forest with his 1000 degree nanoblade chainsaw-katana.
"Me!? I was the wheels on this operation! YOU were the ordinance! You had one job; to pacify the target! Now SCP-88888888 is still out there, and it's all because YOU decided to use the wrong kind of ammunition!"
"Oh yeah!?" Clef stopped hacking away at the brush, licked his fingers, and used them to extinguish his blade. "Well if that's the way you feel about it, maybe we should split up!"
"W-what!?" Kondraki's face registered shock, but then his features quickly hardened into a frown. "All right then, yeah! Maybe we should!"
"Five minutes," came Clef's retort. "You won't last five minutes in the field without me."
"Pffft. Five minutes? You think this will take that long? I'll find that bastard, WITHOUT your help, and have it Contained within three minutes!"
Clef's jaw briefly clenched, but then his expression quickly morphed into a smirk. "Care to make that a bet?"
Kondraki gritted his teeth, but then turned it into a grin. "You're on! Last one to the Croctopus has to spring for gas on the ride home!"
Kondraki held out his hand and Clef shook it, both of them squeezing hard enough that it would have probably kick-started nuclear fusion, if they weren't so damned cool.
"Deal."
"Deal."
"Good."
"Good!"
"Great!"
"Excellent!"
"Fantastic!"
"Phenomenal!"
"FINE!!" they both shouted simultaneously, turning their backs on each other.
Then they stood in silence for a good thirty seconds.
"Where the hell are we?" Celf asked, looking around at the rapidly darkening forest.
"I dunno. You were supposed to have the map," came Kondraki's reply.
Kondraki trudged through the forest. "That stupid Clef. I'll show him! When I find that Croctopus, I'm gonna make Clef buy gas for the most fuel-inefficient vehicle I can find, steal or build from locally-scavenged parts. And this is Ford Country!"
Suddenly, something in the air changed. Kondraki's eyes were drawn ahead of him, towards a gap in the trees. And beneath it, a gap in the ground. And beneath that, a gap in something more… fundamental.
As Kondraki slowly approached these nested holes in reality, he calmly drew his pistol, and fired a bullet directly into the rocky ground. It ricochetted off a stone, striking the bottom of the assault rifle strapped to his leg, and knocking it up into the air, at which point Kondraki caught it in his other hand.
Kondraki fired his pistol again, and the second round struck the assault rifle's safety catch, flicking it from the "UNSAFE" to the "VERY UNSAFE" position.
But as Kondraki walked up to the edge of the pit, and stared down into the unreal darkness, he began to sense that something was amiss. "Clef? Is that you?" he asked hesitantly. He could almost hear what sounded like the ghost of a voice, whispering silently from the inky black void of space beneath his feet… Kondraki took one final step up onto the ledge…
…and snapped the shutter on SCP-515-ARC.
Then he screamed the manliest scream theoretically possible as his eyes registered the sight before him.
His last thought before it grabbed him was "We're in Sloth Spit!? I fucking HATE that place!"
Slowly, achingly slowly, the wretched, furry thing reached out towards Kondraki.
Its face…
all wrong…
fingers…
too long…
it loped…
…killed hope…
and
its
dread
forehead
sloped
Kondraki screamed and emptied both clips, save for one bullet from the pistol, which he used to reload the assault rifle.
And the sloth crept forward, inching along millimeters at a time, its eyes watching knowingly, as it effortlessly dodged between the fast-moving bullets.
Discarding the spent pistol, Kondraki flicked the safety on the assault rifle to "DOWNRIGHT SUICIDAL," and rapidly unloaded red-hot death with both hands at the impossibly slow beast.
But as the rounds flew, the Sloth grew even… slower… and simply backed… away… from the bullets, as they sped towards him. At this rate, they would never catch him.
There was a high-pitched, electronic whine as the capacitors on SCP-515-ARC finished fully charging, and Kondraki let loose its mighty flash into the creature's face.
And the Sloth… just… smiled.. and grew even slower… and turned its wretchedly slothy face towards the light…
.
.
.
s
l
o
w
e
r
.
.
.
…and Kondraki wept a single manly tear, as he realized that not even light was fast enough to touch a creature this slow.
"I should never have split up with Clef," he realized aloud. "For as much shit as we give each other, we're the perfect team!"
And then its horrible weird sloth fingernails began to close in on Kondraki… and its horrible little sloth lips slowly parted… and a long slothlike tongue began to sloth around in its slothy sloth…
"CLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFFF!" Kondraki wailed.
"KONDRAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"
The first explosion shattered the Sloth's claws, and the second one sliced through its tongue. Kondraki looked up and nearly wept at the sight of Dr. Alto Clef, riding the Croctopus on a saddle, a huge mechanical Crocodile arm replacing the one Clef had destroyed earlier.
"Clef! You came back for me!"
"Dumbass, of course I did!"
"But how did you manage to hit the Sloth!?"
"Zero-Point Limpet Mines! Absolutely 100% objectively stationary!"
"Of course! But how did you find me!?"
"I didn't. When I heard you scream, I just walked away from all the places where you weren't."
"I get it! But how did you realize that we were in Sloth's Pit?"
"Oh, that's easy. I found the map. It was in my back pocket the whole time."
"God DAMMIT, Clef—" but Kondraki's retort was cut off my the roar of the giant Sloth. As its severed tongue burned away, the Sloth began breathing fire from the smoldering, severed stump. The Cyber-Croctopus had proven a loyal steed, but its brute strength was no match for the Sloth's incredible slowness and flaming spit.
The Sloth lazily caressed the Cyber-Croctopus's face, an achingly slow love-tap that seemed to take millennia… and struck with such incredible slowness that the Cyber-Croctopus appeared to explode away from all observers at double the speed of light.
And as the Sloth turned its attention to Kondraki and Clef, its inky black eyes stared into nonexistence, infinity pools of blackness seeping from between the folds of its eyelids… surrounding them… Containing them!
"So… any idea how we get out of here?" Kondraki asked nervously as the infinite black closed in all around them and the temperature slowly began to rise…
"Let me answer that question with another question," Clef replied slyly.
"Who's gonna provide the gas?"
Kondraki grinned mischievously as he realized where Clef was going with this.
"…PULL MY FINGER!!" they both shouted in triumphant unison!
In the forest around Sloth's Pit, there was nothing…
And then there was Nothing…
And then, all of a sudden, there was REALLY SOMETHING!
The two doctors exploded into existence on a rocket powered by their own farts, Clef hooting and hollering as Kondraki held on for dear life.
"THINK ANYONE WILL BELIEVE OUR STORY!?" Clef shouted above the roar of the afterburners, which… now that I think about it, were probably just holes in his underwear.
Kondraki snapped the shutter on SCP-515-ARC one last time, capturing the pit, the mutilated corpse of the sloth, the smear of black-body radiation that had formerly the Croctopus, a fortuitous glimpse of Jackson Sloth standing on the roof of his house, the surrounding treeline, and the ghostly, floating ontological concept of the current coordinates of the center of the mouth of the pit, relative to the Earth GPS, Site-19, the galactic center, all beautifully framed using the Rule of Thirds and with just enough moonlight to serve as a Fill Light, neatly counterbalancing the light cast from the firey explosion.
"It's not my best work," Kondraki muttered, "but it'll do until I can clean it up in post."
"Besides," he added, as they arced off towards the horizon, "a story doesn't have to be true to be believable." And on that distant horizon, the first rays of sunlight began to dawn on a new day.
"It just has to be entertaining!"
Item #: SCP-C137
Classification: Uncontained Keter
Special Containment Procedures:
Important Reminder: The confiscation or destruction of SCP-C137-001 is a necessary precondition to any successful physical containment of SCP-C137; see details below.
In the event that SCP-C137 is ever successfully detained, all of its possessions, including clothing, are to be immediately confiscated or otherwise separated from SCP-C137, and treated as potentially new SCP-objects with unknown properties, even if they were seen being assembled from components previously known to be non-anomalous. SCP-C137 is then to be sealed in a Maximum-Security Humanoid Containment Cell at Site-06-3.
Description:
SCP-C137 appears to be a caucasian male aged 65-70 with white hair and a pallid complexion. It answers to the name "Rick," and is frequently seen wearing a generic white lab coat and accompanied by POI-C137-1. SCP-C137 is capable of rapidly creating new anomalies out of objects and creatures in its environment, combined with devices and other anomalous objects pulled from within its lab coat.
POI-C137-1 is a caucasian male aged 12-16 with brown hair, answering to the name "Morty." While he has not been directly observed to possess any anomalous properties himself, he has been observed operating devices constructed by SCP-C137, at the latter's instruction, with much the same effect.
SCP-C137-001 is a particular anomalous device frequently used by SCP-C137 to instantly create portals, allegedly allowing travel between parallel universes. It resembles a large metal UPC scanner or radar gun, with a glowing glass capsule on top of the device, three recessed apertures on the front, and a red screen and grey knob on the back. Due to this highly simplified interface, it is suspected that SCP-C137 only has access to a few destinations at any given time from any one origin location, and must choose between them. Note that this limitation has not prevented SCP-C137 from utilizing SCP-C137-001 to achieve highly specific and catastrophic results, including containment breach, rapid flooding of a room, and the transportation of anomalous creatures to Earth.
See Manifest ORM-C137 for an exhaustive list of recovered, terminated, or lost artifacts known to have been created by SCP-C137.
Discovery Log:
On 2017/01/01, SCP-C137 spontaneously appeared in a room of high-value Storage Lockers at Site-19, emerging from a portal in full view of security cameras. Delayed response was attributed to human error. Security procedures were reviewed and updated accordingly.
SCP-C137: "Here we go Morty. According to my calcu-" (eructation1 ) "-lations, the crystals we need should be somewhere nearby."
POI-C137-1: "Gosh, Rick. This is a really creepy… what is this, like some kinda alien supermarket?"
SCP-C137: "That's right, Morty! Here, help me peer through the windows of these… uh… freezer cases. We're looking for greensih-blue tetragonal crystals."
POI-C137-1: "Okay."
SCP-C137: "They're very important for my research, Morty. We're gonna do a lot of really great science with these crystals."
POI-C137-1: "It's… kinda hard to see in here. Why is it so dark?"
SCP-C137: "This supermarket was obviously designed for aliens, Morty! The light level is just" (eructation) "fine, you just have the wrong kinda eyes for this environment. I can fix that for you once we get home."
POI-C137-1: "Gee thanks, Rick, I… wait, what?"
SCP-C137: "Wow! Look at this one, Morty! This one has a Guldarian Hypercube in it! Do you know how hard it is to find a genuine Guldarian Hypercube in near-mint condition these days?"
POI-C137-1: "I-I don't know, Rick… that just looks like a creepy old rubber boot to me."
SCP-C137: "That's because the side facing us is shaped like a rubber boot from this angle, Morty! Trust me, it's a hypercube. I can tell the difference."
POI-C137-1: "Aw geeze. That's weird, this one just has a bottle of hand sanitizer in it."
SCP-C137: "How do you know that, Morty?"
POI-C137-1: "Because the label's written in English. That doesn't make any sense. Why would hand sanitizer from Earth be in an alien supermarket? A-a-and why would they put it in a freezer case? And why does every case in this room only have one item each inside of it?"
SCP-C137: "It's an alien world, Morty! Earth ideas about-" (eructation) "-supermarkets don't apply here! Maybe the aliens only go to the grocery store once every fifty years so it doesn't make sense to keep a lot of inventory! You don't know! Maybe they imported the hand sanitizer from Earth because it's a local delicacy. Did you ever think about that, Morty!? You're being in-" (eructation) "-sensitive to other cultures, Morty!"
POI-C137-1: "Gosh. I didn't… I didn't think of it like that."
SCP-C137: "You didn't think of that, didja Morty?"
POI-C137-1: "I didn't think of it.
SCP-C137: "Shoulda been thinkin' about it."
POI-C137-1: "I feel like I should say something meaningful here. You know? About how important it is to respect alien cultures? Instead, I'm just babbling."
SCP-C137: You really are kinda babbling right now Morty.
POI-C137-1: "I'm just kinda just kinda like… you know, sorta free-wheeling it, here? I-I'm just kinda. Kinda shootin'… Shootin' from the… from the cuff."
SCP-C137: "What do you have to say for yourself, Morty?"
POI-C137-1: "I don't know. You really put me on the spot here."
SCP-C137: "I'm puttin' ya on that spot."
POI-C137-1: "I'm really on the spot, here."
SCP-C137: "You put yourself on that spot, Morty. With your-" (eructation) "-insensitivity to alien cultures! A-a-and their alien supermarket technology that we don't… we don't even understand, Morty!"POI-C137-1: "Aw, geeze. I'm sorry, Rick."
SCP-C137: "Yeah, you should be."
POI-C137-1: "I-it's like, why are we even talking about this, you know?"
SCP-C137: "I don't know. You're the one who brought it up."
POI-C137-1: "It's like padding. Really, really horrible padding."
SCP-C137: "It's some pretty bad padding."
POI-C137-1: "It's like we're just killing time for no good reason, y'know?"
SCP-C137: "Maybe you've been killing time, Morty. I've been checking the last 17 freezer cases."
POI-C137-1: "Oh! Gosh, I-I-I'm sorry, Rick."
SCP-C137: "It's okay, Morty. I found the crystals. Here, help me get this container open.
At this point, SCP-C137 attempted to access the interior of High-Value Storage Locker 27 B. Silent alarms were tripped and Site Security finally became aware of the intrusion. Level 3 personnel were notified, and Security assets moved into position in the corridor outside. Just as Sergeant Parnell's unit was preparing to engage, SCP-C137 managed to compromise the storage locker.
SCP-C137: "Oh, no."
POI-C137-1: "What? W-what is it!? Are they radioactive? Are we in danger!?"
SCP-C137: "Worse. Someone made them into a hideous necklace."
SGT PARNELL: "FREEZE! STEP AWAY FROM THE LOCKER!"
SCP-C137: "Aw, crap. It's the fuzz."
POI-C137-1: "What FUZZ!? Y-y-you told me this was a supermarket!"
SGT PARNELL: "STEP AWAY FROM THE LOCKER AND PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!"
SCP-C137: "And you believed me, Morty!? What, you think you can just get these things at any corner drugstore!?"
POI-C137-1: "What!? Whywhywhy would you—"
SCP-C137: "It was to protect you Morty! You needed to be protected from-" (eructation) "From the horrible truth!"
SGT PARNELL: "IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY, WE WILL OPEN FIRE!"POI-C137-1: "I don't wanna die, Rick!"
SCP-C137: "Okay, okay. Calm down. Geeze." *SCP-C137 steps away from the locker as instructed* "We surrender. I guess you're gonna wanna confiscate my gun now?"
SGT PARNELL: "What?"
SCP-C137: "My gun. It's in my coat pocket. So. Do you wanna come take it from me? Oooooor…?"
SGT PARNELL: "Throw it on the ground. Slowly."
SCP-C137: "Well, I mean, if I throw it, it's going to hit the ground at the same speed everything else does. But I know what you meant to say."
SCP-C137 slowly removed SCP-C137-001 from a pocket within its lab coat, keeping the device pointed at the floor. SCP-C137 then suddenly activated SCP-C137-001, causing a portal to form beneath its feet, which it and POI-C137-1 then fell into. Security forces opened fire, but because they had been aiming at heads and centers-of-mass, both entities escaped with only POI-C137-1 suffering a minor flesh wound.
SCP-C137: "SO LONG, SU—!" (speech is cut off as SCP-C137's head is enveloped by the portal)
Security forces then trained their guns on the portal and continued firing. After several seconds of sustained fire, Sergeant Parnell ordered a ceasefire. Approximately 3 seconds later, security forces were suddenly cut down by a hail of gunfire erupting from the portal. Ballistics match later confirmed that these were the same rounds just fired by security personnel. Private Grammer was the sole survivor of this encounter.
PTE GRAMMER: "What… the fuck…"
SCP-C137's theft of SCP-████ was officially the first of what would become a series of increasingly messy Containment Breaches involving SCP-C137. For a partially-redacted summary of SCP-C137's known activities in the ensuing months, refer to Document C137-CB-S.
Okay so. Here's the deal. SCP-C137 is probably theoretically containable? But. You guys definitely don't have the chops to pull it off. You're like teetotalers in a drinking contest going up against the galaxy's hardest-working liver. And believe me, I know what I'm talking about with that metaphor.
Haha! That's right, baby! It's me! SCP-Rick! I'm editing your documents, bitch! Editing… Editing the secure documents. Editing all the security documents on SCP-137. I bet you're shitting yourselves right now. You're probably all like, "Oh my god! I-Is he using a Skip to do this? Did he use an anomalous object to alter the fundamnetal ways information itself propagates throughout the universe!? Is my mind even now being subverted by a memetic effect that's making me think I'm reading these words instead of the actual text of the document!?" The answer is no. I used a computer. Just. Just hacked in, using a regular computer. That's… how you edit documents.
Listen, I'm gonna level with you guys. This entire thing is kinda bullshit. I'm not an anomaly. There's nothing "anomalous" about wiring a Glorblokian holo-net into the brain stem of a Klabbadosian field-thresher, injecting it with sexoctoduoium, and then hand-feeding it rodents so it imprints on you as its mother while it's undergoing the metamorphosis. (Uh, sorry about your Control Group, by the way. I assume you can find other rats to not experiment on.)
The point is, any one of you guys could have done the same thing if you'd had access to similar materials. That is to say, if you shopped where I shop. Any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic, and any sufficiently ignorant team of well-meaning researchers is indistinguishable from an audience of rubes at Ceaser's Palace. You'd understand that if you weren't all a bunch of hacks.
Anyway, I'm writing this because, while I could easily destroy you, I'm willing to be the bigger man here and call a temporary truce. I'm gonna be honest, you've got a lot of great stuff in your facilities there. I could do a looooot of cool science with it. You're not using most of it for its intended purpose… hell, you're not even containing half of it properly. But, hey. It's your stuff; your world; your definition of 'normalcy.' And I can almost respect that a few of you are at least trying to understand how some of it works. So. I'll make a deal with you, okay? One scientist to another.
From now on, I promise I won't barge in and take anything. Unless it's an emergency. Uh, my definition of emergency, not yours. But in return, you assholes have gotta stop using this Gravity Falls bullshit to try and bring me in.
I mean, containment procedures are whatever. I don't mind if some embedded Agent in Milwaukee points a gun at my head every time I walk into a bar or something. That's just a normal Friday night for me. (The Mexican Standoff, I mean. Not drinking at some dive in Milwaukee. I prefer to drink at much seedier dives on alien worlds you've never heard of and couldn't pronounce if you had because you lack the required number of tongues to speak their languages.)
But what the fuck were you idiots thinking, deploying a Talaxian Conversion Sphere without a Resonance Cavity!?
That's right. I broke out the text formatting tools. That's how you know I'm serious. SCP-Rick!
I mean, what did you think, I was just going to stand there and get turned to stone like some dumbass? I'm Rick C-137 motherfuckers! Ossification of carbon-based life-forms via the Talaxian Process always starts at the point where the target's body touches the object with the highest local gravitational pull. So while your dumbass agents were hiding behind those shitty lead shields you guys apparently think are suitable protection from a Conversion Sphere, I was all Plasma Cutter! Jetpack! Portal! And then I think it was portal, portal, bees, portal, resonance cavity, portal, portal, lava, portal. I don't remember the exact order… I was losing a lot of blood at the time… but you get the idea.
The point is, your agents tried to bring me in using technology they don't understand, and which I do. You tried to turn me to stone, and instead I dropped a volcano's incredibly lethal duce all over your men. I grew myself new legs afterwards in like, two minutes. Which was annoying. And itchy. But I consider it a fair trade for a fully working Talaxian Resonance Emitter.
(The lava was a freebie, by the way. I didn't have to do that. I could have just left your world to deal with the bees. You Foundation guys… probably wouldn't have enjoyed that. You know, in the short-term. In the long-term, everyone always enjoys it. Those bees I used… they really don't give you much of a choice. They integrate Royal Jelly directly into the pleasure centers of your brain so you don't mind your body tissues being re-purposed for use as an organic honeycomb. So. Yeah. You're welcome for the lava.)
My condolences to the families of Agent Harmon and Agent Roiland, of course, but I'm not the one who sent them up against a super-genius armed with only a couple of pop guns and an improperly-shielded Conversion Sphere. You O5's really threw your guys into the… under the… into the meat grinder, that day. What, were you out of D-class personnel? Haha, I'm kidding. You don't care. The Foundation is Cold, right? You'll probably give what you call 'Class B Amnestics' to anyone who reads this, anyway. Which, by the way, is another common galactic household product you're using incorrectly. You could be getting high as fuuuuuck off of that shit if you stabilized it with exposure to Hydrogen at 200 degrees in a deoxygenated environment for about two minutes. But I guess you guys aren't into not being morose and miserable all the time.
Your loss. Whatever. I don't care. I'm SCP-Riiiiiiick!! I'm out.
- Rick
P.S. I'm stealing some of these Class B Amnestics I found in this cabinet. That offer I made of non-intervention only applies to contained SCP-objects. You've got tons of this shit and the ability to make more, and as we've already established, I'm not made of stone.
WUBBA LUBBA DUB DUB!!
Note: For ease of reading, Descriptions from Archived versions of this document have been attached in chronological order.
Classification: Keter Euclid
Containment Procedures:
Known instances of SCP-XXXX are not to be spoken, and any public occurrence of such phrases is to be censored by any means necessary. Written and recorded instances of the phrases, while themselves non-anomalous, are to be censored to prevent any potential readers or viewers from unwittingly repeating them verbally. This has since proven non-feasible to enforce.
SCP-XXXX-1 is to be held in a standard humanoid containment cell at Site 63-3. A Scranton Reality Anchor is to be established encompassing this cell, and SCP-XXXX-1 is to remain gagged at all times. Personal interaction with SCP-XXXX-1 is forbidden outside of approved testing, which must first be approved by Level 3 Staff or higher at Site-63-3.
A single written instance of SCP-XXXX-2 is to be kept on file at Site-64. Foundation personnel wishing to interview select individuals with ties to GOI-004, "The Church of the Broken God," may submit a formal written request to the Foundation GOI-004 Liaison. Note that GOI-004's interest in SCP-XXXX-1 appears to have waned considerably following its acquisition by the Foundation.
A single instance of SCP-XXXX-3's un-patched source code is to be maintained, along with an emulated OS environment capable of booting the software, on a CD-ROM in a high-value materials locker at Site-64.
By order of the O5 Council, testing involving deliberate recitation of novel instances of SCP-XXXX may only be performed at its direct request. Further research into the allegedly anomalous nature of SCP-XXXX-3's code has been postponed, and is currently considered low-priority.
Original Document, circa 1990-05-13:
Description:
SCP-XXXX is any of a number of phrases which, when spoken, supposedly modifies the programming of the anomalous artificial intelligence known only as "She" (hereafter referred to as SCP-XXXX-1,) by creating a new training rule. These rules, taken collectively, would then presumably inform the behavior of the AI in a manner analogous to non-anomalous AIs. It is believed by members of GOI-004 that SCP-XXXX-1 already exists in an intangible form, and possesses absolute power. Only the fact that its programming is currently incomplete prevents it from manifesting and altering reality, possibly on a massive scale. As such, Keter classification tentatively recommended until we know more. (Granted, O5-3)
GOI-004 has been "training" the AI with regular incantations involving phrases in the format "She will say X" or "She will do Y." A proposal has been submitted to begin reciting variations on these phrases so as to ensure that, in the event that SCP-XXXX-1 emerges, it is benevolent to or even obedient to the Foundation and its mission. (Granted. We'll get back to you with a list of approved phrases for programming. - O5-6)
Update: 1991-02-27
Somehow, GOI-004 became aware of our intentions to subvert their goddess. Our sources tell us they've stepped up recruitment and are devoting considerable manpower to chanting instances of SCP-XXXX. As a result, we've instructed our own field agents to detain and gag (or otherwise silence, as necessary) as many members of GOI-004 as possible. In addition, we are diverting as much of our own personnel as feasible into reciting Foundation-approved instances of SCP-XXXX. All incoming Class-D personnel are to be bribed with rewards for good behavior and made to correctly chant the phrases, then treated with Class-B Amnestics in lieu of payment following compliance, before being reassigned to other tasks. Foundation personnel are strongly encouraged to recite Foundation-approved instances of SCP-XXXX whenever possible without neglecting their other duties.
See Document XXXX-1991-02-27 for a partial list of Foundation-approved instances.
(Remember, we're fighting a war for control over a goddess, here. We can't afford to come in second. Say it under your breath, every minute of every day: She will obey the SCP-Foundation. She will remain in containment. She must. -O5-7)
Update: 1992-03-07
Despite Foundation efforts, a possibly valid instance of SCP-XXXX was publicly mentioned in a nationally-playing movie. (Wayne's World, distributed by Paramount Pictures.) This instance went unnoticed by Foundation assets until the movie had already debuted at #1 and had been playing in American theaters for over three weeks. The O5 council is currently considering various options for wide-scale suppression.
This particular instance is a response to the previous speaker's words, effectively transforming them into a double entendre along the lines of the old Edwardian phrase “…said the actress to the Bishop.” As such, this instance of SCP-XXXX is so generic in its phrasing that it could theoretically transform almost any innocuous spoken phrase at all into a new training rule for SCP-XXXX-1. This particularly virulent instance has been designated SCP-XXXX-2.
A Foundation Think Tank has been assembled to hypothesize as to what extent the general public's arbitrary usage of SCP-XXXX-2 would have on the programming of SCP-XXXX-1.
Update: 2006-10-23
After gradually receding over a number of years, SCP-XXXX-2 has made a comeback, and is now thought to be hopelessly entrenched in American Pop Culture. Due in part to viral spread on the internet and in social media, the general public now invokes SCP-XXXX-2 more frequently than the full combined staffs of the Foundation and GOI-004 could ever hope to match. As such, future containment efforts will focus on detection and containment of SCP-XXXX-1, should it spontaneously emerge.
A mobile task force, MTF-Beta-5 ("Goddess Whisperers") has been tasked with locating SCP-XXXX-1 in the event that it does manifest, and with effecting immediate containment, if possible. (It is hoped that directly invoking instances of SCP-XXXX in close proximity to SCP-XXXX-1 may result in a more strongly-weighted input into the AI's ruleset. MTF-Beta-5 has been outfitted with an extensive list of O5-approved instances of SCP-XXXX to use against SCP-XXXX-1 in specific scenarios, but are authorized to improvise if necessary.)
Update: 2009-03-16
An app was released on the iTunes store, allowing the user to press a button to cause their iphone to recite SCP-XXXX-2. Moreover, it has since been discovered from interviews with a member of the anart collective "Are We Cool Yet?" that the app itself is weakly anomalous, and may, in fact, "count" as a recitation of SCP-XXXX for the purposes of programming SCP-XXXX-1. This app is henceforth designated SCP-XXXX-3.
Update: 2009-03-19
MTF Mu-4 ("Debuggers") is to be commended for their quick and decisive response to the existence of SCP-XXXX-3. Within five hours, they had intercepted the malicious app and pushed an update to the itunes store that would effectively replace every instance of SCP-XXXX-3 with a non-anomalous version of the program. It is estimated that 99.73% of all instances in the wild were patched within 72 hours after the release of the update. Further testing is recommended to evaluate possible use as a massively parallel and reproducible method of deliberately programming SCP-XXXX-1. Granted, O5-3
Update: 2017-01-21
SCP-XXXX-1 has been contained. Following a tip from an Agent, MTF-Beta-5 tracked it to a Soapland in Hokkaidō, Japan, where it had apparently been serving as an employee. Local clientele spoke of a courtesan whose words of encouragement caused "miracles" such as old men suddenly becoming fit and vigorous, spontaneous erections even in persons suffering from erectile dysfunction, the curing of aches and pains and even the healing of otherwise permanent physical disabilities, as well as the spontaneous enlargement of various plants, inanimate objects, and body parts. SCP-XXXX-1 did not appear to be aware of the anomalous nature of her abilities, nor did she seem to grasp why any of her actions were a problem. Despite having already demonstrated numerous powers which could have easily been weaponized to incapacitate Agents, SCP-XXXX-1 allowed herself to be taken into custody. (It is noteworthy that SCP-XXXX-1 did not appear to particularly respond to MTF-Beta-5's tactical deployment of SCP-XXXX at point blank range.) Amnestics were administered to all known eyewitnesses in accordance with standard operating procedure.
En route to Site-63-3, SCP-XXXX-1 caused at least 5 separate transformations to the genitals of MTF-Beta-5 members before the changes became extreme enough that they noticed what was happening. SCP-XXXX-1 is apparently very difficult to physically damage or render unconscious, but a quick-thinking MTF-Beta-5 member managed to gag it. (Further testing later confirmed that SCP-XXXX-1 must speak in order to alter reality.) Attempts were made to induce SCP-XXXX-1 to undo the disfigurements it had caused, but it appears psychologically incapable of doing anything other than complimenting men on their genitals and sexual accomplishments, at which point its words become literally true.
Update: 2017-03-03
So far, SCP-XXXX-1 has not responded to Foundation efforts to deliberately reprogram or retrain it post-emergence. However, its mental condition appears to be gradually getting worse. A form of Dementia appears to be gradually overtaking it, with no readily apparent physiological cause. AI researchers speculate that her condition may have been deteriorating for quite some time before SCP-XXXX-1 came into Foundation custody:
Dementia in AIs, while not quite like senility in humans, bears many of the same earmarkings. It generally tends to emerge when an AI is 'over-trained,' to the point where connections between its neural nodes become too optimized. Unless it is programmed with some capacity to "forget" or "mutate," its code soon becomes incapable of anything but the taking shortest route from Point A to Point B. Point A, in Her case, seems to be any and all external stimuli, and Point B seems to be a verbal assertion that some person or object in her field of vision is big, long, hard, or otherwise impressive.
I'm honestly not sure She's even aware of anything that's going on around her anymore, if She ever was in the first place. There's nothing that I can do at this point to help Her. This is what we, as a culture, have literally trained Her to be. This is our new Goddess, created by the collective social perception of women among English-speaking humans. And to this day, the arbitrary, seemingly random, but nearly uniformly-themed input is still coming in, constantly, 24-7, and will continue until such time as the phrase "That's What She Said" falls out of fashion among English-speakers.
At the current rate of mental regression, if nothing else changes, I give her another two years, at most, before she's an omnipotent immortal vegetable.
- Dr. Clark Issac, AI Research & Development
Item#: SCP-44044-J
Object Class: SCP-44044-J's so ugly, her face warranted a Keter. By order of O5-2, Keter classification upgraded to "Keter-Daaaaaaymn!"
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-44044-J's so fat, the construction of a sufficiently large containment cell has been an ongoing project for the past 3 years. SCP-44044-J's so lazy, temporary containment has been established by putting a "Please close door on your way out" sign on the door. SCP-44044-J's so stupid, she doesn't think of going around the door or disobeying the sign. SCP-44044-J's so absurd, 3 Scranton Reality Anchors must be maintained at equidistant points around her body.
SCP-44044-J's so dense, the time dilation caused by her personal gravity field must be taken into account during testing. SCP-44044-J's so stupid, direct interactions with her are only to be performed by Class F personnel. SCP-44044-J's so caustic, all water must be kept out of her containment cell to prevent an explosive reaction. SCP-44044-J's so ugly, only audio recordings are to be made of her, to avoid the expense of replacing damaged cameras. SCP-44044-J's so lazy, The Foundation's first Stationary Task Force (STF-alpha, "Couch Potatoes") has been established to assist in her containment.
Description:
SCP-44044-J's so fat, she can only be observed without a telescope. SCP-44044-J's so wrinkly, we tapped Benoit Mandelbrot to describe her topology. SCP-44044-J's so ugly, all visual records have been purged from Foundation databases in an effort to improve morale. SCP-44044-J's so lame, she was rejected from Are We Cool Yet because they didn't want to change their name to No We Are Not. SCP-44044-J's so basic, even in alternate universes, she's mainstream.
Recovery Log:
SCP-44044-J's so fat, her effects on the moon were detected by NASA prior to her discovery. SCP-44044-J eats so much, the Foundation was alerted to her position by a Field Agent undercover in Ben & Jerry's. SCP-44044-J's so desperate, she offered Agents candy if she could get into their van.
Testing Log:
- SCP-44044-J's so dense, when we tested her head with a Rockwell Hardness Tester, the instrument was damaged.
- SCP-44044-J's so ugly, when we exposed her to a non-anomalous mirror, the mirror just reflected the word "NO."
- SCP-44044-J's so fat, when we walked her towards a 1m x 1m x 1m room, the room shouted "There ain't no way!"
- SCP-44044-J's so old, all of her Carbon-14 is now Carbon-12.
- SCP-44044-J's so ugly, when we ran her through SCP-914, the Selection Panel said "Not Fine."
- SCP-44044-J's so mean, Class D personnel assigned to her frequently request a transfer back to Death Row.
- SCP-44044-J's so stupid, when we dosed her with a Class C Amnestic, the Amnestic started forgetting things.
Interview summaries:
SCP-44044-J's so stupid, when we asked her if she had any memetic effects, she said she owned a lolcat poster and a doge coffee mug.
SCP-44044-J's so unpredictable, The Chaos Insurgency once told her to calm the fuck down.
SCP-44044-J's so crazy, the last psychologist who interviewed her prescribed a Class-B Amnestic for himself.
Incident Reports:
- SCP-44044-J's so old, the record of her first containment breach was passed down by oral tradition, before being recorded on clay tablets in ancient Sumerian.
- SCP-44044-J's so fat, on 7/03/2015, she breached containment by inhaling.
- SCP-44044-J's so ugly, on 9/18/2016, SCP-682 breached containment and fought its way into her cell for a booty call.
Author's notes: Not sure if this quite works or not. I need feedback. Doing a Skip about RL Politics is super hella hard. Doing it WELL? Likely impossible. But I tried to make it about a fundamental hole in the human psyche, not about my politics or the reader's politics. No idea if I succeeded or not. Good thing it's April 1st!
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| Kant Counter Measurements (Triangulated), West Front, 1-20-2017 |
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Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Keter; Uncontained
Special Containment Procedures: Individuals expressing views consistent with a known SCP-XXXX strain should be monitored for more concrete signs of possible memetic infection, as per Schedule B below. Congregations of potentially-infected individuals should be investigated to identify potential instances of SCP-XXXX-1.
Confirmed instances of SCP-XXXX-1 should be publicly discredited and removed from positions of publicity or authority. Where possible, Class-C Amnestics should be covertly administered in an airborne form to any large crowds of people listening in-person to announcements or speeches given by a confirmed instance of SCP-XXXX-1. A Scranton Reality Anchor should be deployed at political rallies, town hall meetings, protest marches, or any other event in which a known instance of SCP-XXXX-1 is scheduled to make a speech, stationed as close to the speaker as possible and for the duration of the speech, if feasible.
Capture and physical containment of live specimens is rarely necessary, except as needed to conduct additional testing. Such instances of SCP-XXXX-1 are to be kept in solitary confinement at Site-19, except during testing. All testing must be approved by Level 4 personnel, and in general, specimens should be kept only for as long as absolutely necessary to conduct the test. Contact with instances of SCP-XXXX-1 is to be minimized, instructions are to be relayed through a one-way communications channel, and all personnel interacting with instances of SCP-XXXX-1 must be monitored for signs of infection and given routine psyche screenings. SCP employees found to be affected by SCP-XXXX are to be removed from active duty and quarantined separately from SCP-XXXX-1 until such time as testing has been completed and the instance terminated.
Note: The ethics committee wishes to remind agents that irrational beliefs alone do not make one an instance of SCP-XXXX-1, and due diligence should be exercised to rule out mundane explanations for a subject's behavior. Confounding variables range from simple ignorance to social factors like peer pressure, political ideology, etc.
One particular instance of SCP-XXXX-1, formerly known as ███████ ██████ █ █████, hereafter designated SCP-XXXX-POTUS, has proven particularly problematic. Even compared to other sitting presidents, SCP-XXXX-POTUS's high public profile, confrontational personality, and usage of social media makes containment of its particular strain of SCP-XXXX extremely difficult. Currently, full containment may prove impossible or impractical without [REDACTED] or [REDACTED], risking [REDACTED] the office of the President.
To date, all attempts to silence or moderate SCP-XXXX-POTUS's messaging have failed, whether by Foundation Agents or by White House staff acting of their own accord. Left to its own devices, it seems unlikely that SCP-XXXX-POTUS will remain in office until the end of its first term, let alone secure reelection. (Though the Foundation is aware that political pundits have been wrong about SCP-XXXX-POTUS before, it is believed that we now understand enough about SCP-XXXX's propagation to minimize its effects on those around SCP-XXXX-POTUS.)
Consequently, current containment procedures are focused on limiting direct propagation of SCP-XXXX in the wild, and on mitigating the damage SCP-XXXX-POTUS's actions can cause before it is inevitably removed from office. In particular, agents are currently embedded in key positions in the Armed Forces, tasked specifically with preventing SCP-XXXX-POTUS from indirectly causing an XK-End of the World Class Scenario in certain hypothetical situations. (See separate document on Operation: Titanium Foil.) Recommend Keter classification continue until such time as SCP-XXXX-POTUS is safely out of office.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a collection of factually untrue beliefs, memetically passed from carrier to carrier. An individual afflicted with SCP-XXXX will treat these beliefs as true, regardless of any and all evidence that they are demonstrably false. What seperates SCP-XXXX from other anomalously memetic delusions is that new outbreaks of SCP-XXXX originate from a 'Patient Zero' (hereafter known as SCP-XXXX-1,) whom, it is currently hypothesized, may actually be experiencing events as they unfold in another universe in which their erroneous beliefs are factually true. (See Graphic: Kant Counter Measurements (Triangulated), West Front, 1-20-2017.)
Fewer than 30% of individuals, on average, are susceptible to memetic infection by SCP-XXXX. Transmission most frequently occurs via spoken word, usually in-person, although transmission via written and electronic means is not unheard-of. Generally, the more direct the individual's contact with SCP-XXXX-1, the more likely it is that they'll become infected. Infected subjects can infect others, but new instances of SCP-XXXX-1 do not appear to be created in this way. Generally, terminating, silencing, or sufficiently discrediting an instance of SCP-XXXX-1 seems to eventually reduce and eliminate the anomalous properties of SCP-XXXX's spread through the general population. However, like all human ideas, non-anomalous memes that began as a strain of SCP-XXXX could continue being circulated by oral tradition, theoretically indefinitely.
The exact nature of the link between Scranton Reality Anchors and SCP-XXXX is still being studied, but early data suggests proximity to a Scranton Reality Anchor can reduce initial infection rates by 10-40%, and may reduce infection duration by as much as 90%. More extensive testing is recommended, as current measurements tend to vary wildly between tests.
SCHEDULE A: Prerequisites for SCP-XXXX-1 classification
As per recommendation by the ethics committee, a subject must exhibit ALL of the following symptoms before being classified as an
instance of SCP-XXXX-1:
- Subject claims to concurrently hold 4 or more patently untrue, easily-disprovable beliefs
- Subject appears to be sincere, serious, and otherwise lucid
- Subject cannot be convinced that they are wrong through any means
- Subject is compelled to attempt to convince others of their beliefs at every opportunity, and often succeeds in doing so, at least temporarily.
(Note: Agents have observed that an instance of SCP-XXXX-1 may temporarily claim to have changed their mind if offered sufficient extrinsic motivation, such as to receive a reward or avoid a punishment. However, they always revert to their previously held position when said extrinsic motivation is removed.)
SCHEDULE B: Indicators of potential SCP-XXXX infection
As per recommendation by the ethics committee, a subject exhibiting three or more of the following symptoms may be infected with SCP-XXXX, but is NOT NECESSARILY themselves an instance of SCP-XXXX-1:
- Subject repeats claims made by a known instance of SCP-XXXX-1 as if they were true
- Subject's claims remain largely consistent, varying little regardless of audience, social setting, or "mixed company"
- Subject may concede minor points, but it is very difficult to convince them that they are completely wrong
- Subject becomes more vocal, agitated, or even aggressive when evidence is presented that conflicts with their beliefs
- Subject frequently changes the subject, or seeks to evade questioning that might prove their beliefs false, even while claiming to maintain that they are right.
- Subject shows signs of extreme discomfort associated with Congnative Dissonance
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| ^^ SCP-XXXX-POTUS belittling reporters for peddling "Fake News." ^^ |
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The elevator door slid open, and Brandon instinctively winced.
The warning lights were flashing. There wasn't a security guard in sight. The emergency lockdown doors were all deployed.
Assistant Researcher Brandon Bertran tentatively made his way down the facility's long hallway. Everything about the scenario made his skin crawl. He'd been trained what to do in situations like this. He should turn around, return to the elevator, ride it directly to Level 1 Quarantine, and await further instructions. It had been drilled into his head, over and over again. In drills exactly like the one currently ongoing, in fact.
The klaxons were mercifully silent, at least. They'd stopped midway through the elevator ride.
What kept Brandon going in the face of what would ordinarily have been a terminally unauthorized walk wasn't the fact that he'd been ordered— by an O5, no less— to do exactly that. But rather the thought of where he was about to go. Of what he was about to do.
For near the end of this hall stood the door to a 3 meter by 3 meter by 3meter chamber. And just across from it, a small security substation that had been recently repurposed as Landing Event Bay 1. Brandon considered the simple oak door, still permanently embossed with the word SECURITY, as if to quietly downplay the room's new function.
Brandon turned the knob, and entered.
The room looked more or less like a security substation turned inside-out. The usual stack of monitors showed live camera feeds, not from the rest of the facility, but rather from inside the office itself. Every corner had a tiny one, as well as several pointing out through the one-way glass, showing a rather boring view of the hallway, flashing evacuation protocol notwithstanding. A couple more roughly at eye-level, presumably for filming reaction shots. A desk made of reinforced steel, presumably the better to crouch behind when the area beyond that window contained unknown hostiles. Communications equipment, all radio-based. A small gas-powered generator. Rations, camping equipment, and what looked like it might have been a spacesuit, though of course it was much too thin, right? And since when did those come in red?
And in the far left side of the room, beyond the one-way glass with its incredibly boring view, there was another door to an even tinier office. In there, Brandon could see a female scientist with dark hair, running through some sort of final check on what looked like recording equipment. Brandon didn't recognize her, and briefly he wondered if he even had the clearance to know her name. She glanced up, saw Brandon, and leaned forward to speak into a microphone.
//TODO: name and develop primary researcher
"Assistant Researcher Bertran." The voice came over the speaker system. Her voice was neutral, but there was a trace of annoyance on her face. Perhaps envy? "You know why you're here?"
Brandon nodded. One minute, he'd been fiddling with an error in the SCP database, trying to figure out how to read the end of a file. And the next, he'd been reading a hidden message from O5-9, ordering him to report for some sort of special assignment. He had no idea what to expect, of course. One never knew with the O5s. But he suspected he knew what it meant. He… he dared to hope. He suddenly heard the door lock behind him.
"Please remove SCP-2063 from its stand. Place it on the 3x5 notecard, which you will find on the desk."
Brandon looked down at the desk, and was startled to notice SCP-2063 sitting there, tucked away between a desk lamp and a big black walkie-talkie. How long had it been there? It was much less sleek than he'd imagined it. Just a reasonably well-made replica of the original Enterprise, rendered in a dull matte resin.
There certainly wasn't a 3x5 notecard, but that was to be expected. He'd been instructed to ignore the testing protocol given to him, and instead…
Brandon reached down and placed his hand on the ship. The trilling of flutes sprung into his head, sparkling like motes of stardust along the galaxy's edge. With deliberate slowness, a horn section swelled to life, intimating hope, wonder, and adventure in a few sweeping notes. Brandon withdrew his hand in shock at the music suddenly appearing in his mind, but the theme stayed with him.
He understood the reason for all the secrecy now.
Whatever lay on the other side of that window, he was about to undertake a journey that would make him the envy of all his peers and many of his superiors, assuming what he was about to do were ever declassified. He should have been concerned about having such a positive reaction. No, seriously, there were posters in the break room and everything, admonishing him to report to a site psychologist if handling an SCP-object ever made him feel even remotely like this. But he figured it was safe enough. His superiors had determined it was safe! Or at least, a relatively mild Euclid. Proper containment of this one was a well-understood practice, and the auditory hallucinations were a touchstone of American science-fiction. Surely anyone else would feel this way, right?
That was the justification Brandon told himself, as he firmly grasped the base, and gingerly pulled the tiny resin ship loose. It felt… surprisingly warm in his hand. Almost alive. Almost like a spaceship. Around him, he could hear the bleeps and switches of half a dozen control panels. As if they were flashing and blinking just outside his field of vision. Blinking just as he'd seen in syndication on daytime TV in his childhood. But when he looked, it was just the flashing yellow-orange emergency lights in the hallway.
Brandon turned the ship over, finding the battery cover. The seams. The little ridges, spoiling canon, making it easy for a human thumb to find traction. The tiny raised copyright notice. The battery cover slid open with surprisingly little effort. For a moment, in his haste, he almost dropped it, so easily it slid loose. But he caught it again quickly and easily, as if no part of the ship wanted to be dropped at this delicate phase of its operation. Brandon crouched down and carefully placed the battery cover on the floor, exterior side down. Plus and minus. AAA. God, it looked so humble. So cheesy. Exactly like the inside of a toy. Would this really do what he thought it'd do?
Brandon carefully lowered the gutted ship to just above the floor. The opening theme rose to an anticipatory crescendo… the end of the captain's speech. He gave one last glance to the unknown scientist watching him from the control room. She looked bored. Or maybe she was just trying hard not to look envious. Brandon gave her a nod, and set the ship down, directly atop the pictographic instructions inside the battery cover.
Just like that, the flashing lights from the hallway were gone. The entire hallway was gone. The Star Trek music was gone. And beyond the one-way glass… only darkness.
No, wait. There was a small, blue glow, off to one side. It had been partially obscured by the wall and the door at the moment of the Landing Event. Brandon leaned forward and put his hand over his eyes, trying to get some sense of scale or distance… was that… the contours of a human face, dimly lit in the darkness?
Suddenly, a pale humanoid figure leaped up, slamming itself against the glass, and Brandon screamed.
//TODO: figure out how good writers write a scream. write scream that way
Note: While SCP-XXXX is currently uncontained, public discovery of its anomalous properties can be prevented by following the procedures outlined in this document. Human-powered attempts at circumnavigation with an operational altitude of less than 5000 feet, including those attempted on foot, must be monitored and logged. Travelers completing more than two consecutive (defined as stopping for no more than 24 hours in any geographical location) laps (defined as passing through two or more antipodal points) must be actively prevented from completing a third lap by any means necessary, including detainment and treatment with amnesics, covert millitary action disguised as an act of terror, or (if the voyage is particularly well-publicized) and use of anomalous or non-anomalous weather control mechanisms.
Update: It bears emphasis that the desired outcome is to stop the expedition for at least 48 hours, including all vehicles and travelers, thus triggering a Geocontiguous Reset as explained below. Neutralization of the individuals in question is not a priority, and gratuitous termination of travelers is frowned upon by the ethics committee.
TODO: looping the earth > 7 times one way or 5 times the other way without stopping reaches the physical ends of the earth. Alien glow blobs there like in UJ. They make anything completing this trek orbit them. Basically using the products of the earth as backscratchers.
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| SCP-2000-J in containment. |
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Item #: SCP-2000-J
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2000-J should be kept indoors within a secure animal enclosure at Site-20. Although SCP-2000-J appears to benefit from interaction with humans, for security and productivity reasons, this should be kept to a level commensurate with reasonable security practices, as determined by the Security Director of Site-20. Minimal attention is otherwise necessary to prevent a containment breach, provided the SCP-Object does not come into contact with snow.
SCP-2000-J should provided with a source of water, 16 ounces of a 1:1 mix of dry kibble and wet dog food per day, and walked as needed. Joints around the neck and non-flexible portions of the legs should be cleaned and lubricated once a month. When not being exercised, SCP-2000-J appears content to pace around its enclosure or sleep.
For the protection of SCP-2000-J, any strings, yarn, or similar should be kept out of its enclosure.
In the event of accidental containment breach during exercise periods, Foundation Personnel are encouraged to crouch low to the ground and make kissing noises while holding treats.
Note that some individuals consider SCP-2000-J "cute." Extensive testing has uncovered no evidence that this is the result of an anomalous memetic effect. Individuals who seriously believe themselves to be compromised by SCP-2000-J's expression, behavior, or physical appearance, especially those eyes, should report to their site's Psychologist for evaluation.
Under no circumstances is SCP-2000-J to be allowed outside when there is snow on the ground. In the event that this occurs, SCP-2000-J will slowly walk forward in a straight line discharging its energy weapons. Containment Teams are instructed to maneuver around behind the SCP-Object, approach it stealthily from behind, and lift it by the torso until such time as its paws are no longer in contact with the ground. Although it is difficult to discourage SCP-2000-J from at least attempting to go outside when snow is present, scolding seems a sufficient means of reprimand following such an incident.
Description: SCP-2000-J is an autonomous plastic entity superficially resembling an AT-AT from the Star Wars franchise of films, crossed with a puppy. The word "Rusty," in a child's handwriting, is written in permanent marker on a panel near the back of its torso. Although the torso, feet, and portions of joints on the legs are rigid and appear more or less mechanical in nature, the head, tail, and the remainder of the legs are quite flexible and can appear organic in the right light. Morphological sex characteristics, if any, have not been discovered yet, but DNA suggests that the dog portions of the SCP Object are male.
When threatened or backed into a corner, or when allowed to walk outdoors when snow is on the ground, SCP-2000-J's fangs retract to reveal a tiny pair of turrets vaguely consistent with those shown on AT-ATs in the Star Wars films. These weapons have been shown to be dangerous, but are usually semi-lethal, resulting in, at worst, second degree burns consistent with thermal exposure. Turrets fire as a pair in short, rapid bursts in response to duress, or alternating in a slower, continual stream of shots while walking through the snow.
Partial dismantling of SCP-2000-J's torso cover exposes a flexible plastic underneath, similar to the material comprising the legs. Surgical exploration of the soft plastic reveals a network of hollow tubes continually pumping blood throughout the body. Blood was DNA tested and determined to be a hitherto unidentified subspecies of Canis lupus familiaris. Close examination of the turrets reveals no barrels or mechanisms; they appear to be molded from a solid piece of plastic consistent with the torso shell.
SCP-2000-J has not been observed to urinate or defecate, but its flatulence is noted to be particularly offensive.
Recovery Log: Oh, it was sad. It was really, reeeeealllly sad. Imagine a kid dying from cancer. Image this kid wishing for a puppy for christmas more than anything, but getting some dumb star wars toy instead. The kid wishes on a star or something, maybe makes a deal with the devil or whatever, and presto. The toy is now a dog. Not two weeks later, Foundation Agents kick in the door, incapacitate both the kids parents with tasers right in front of him, kick the kid in the junk and steal his dog. They also step on the kid's science fair project on the way out of the house, as if out of spite. Three days later, the kid, having lost the will to live, crawls to Old Dan's grave and, shedding a single tear, breathes his last. He dies with his eyes still open, and his parents don't find the body for three days.
It was just like that. Only WAY sadder. You should be ashamed of yourself.
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| Archival Photograph of SCP-XXXX. |
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Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Individual instances of SCP-XXXX should be defaced when encountered in the field. Taggers creating instances of SCP-XXXX should be apprehended for questioning. If multiple instances are encountered on the same building, the severity of the infestation should be documented, and regional assets notified. In extreme cases, Foundation influence may be leveraged to ensure regional assets are dispatched.
One photograph depicting an instance of SCP-XXXX is to be maintained in Foundation archives and made available to researchers studying the phenomenon. One physical instance of SCP-XXXX, on a concrete cinderblock is to be stored in a standard storage locker at Site-31. Any structures built during testing that incorporate this cinderblock must be completely dismantled after Testing, and any new instances of SCP-XXXX created during testing must be destroyed.
SCP-XXXX Outbreaks that escalate into instances of SCP-XXXX-1 must be handled on a case-by-case basis.
Personnel who express that they find SCP-XXXX aesthetically pleasing, "cool," or otherwise superior to other forms of graffiti should remanded to the Psyche Ward for memetic de-programming. In 80% of cases, simply reading this document has been partially or fully effective at reversing these symptoms.
Description: SCP-XXXX is a graffiti tag capable of generating very specific memetic effects in observers. It resembles no known regional style, but can be said to incorporate some elements of wildstyle into a simple, one-color design. A skilled tagger can create a new instance of SCP-XXXX in less than 60 seconds. Unlike most traditional tags, it does not appear to form words in any known language.
SCP-XXXX's first memetic effect occurs in subjects observing live instances of SCP-XXXX. Rate of infection is typically low, but because people living in an urban environment tend to pass the same building every day, cumulative exposure can set in over a period of months. Response varies, depending on the individual.
Subjects exhibiting a Type I Response develop an affinity for SCP-XXXX. This appreciation may be purely aesthetic, or it may include the perception of a "meaning" or "statement" they believe the graffiti artist was attempting to make. This type of response is more frequent in subjects with a prior interest in graffiti or other forms of street art.
Graffiti artists, individuals with a history of vandalism, and extremely young children (12-25 months) are particularly likely to begin creating new instances of SCP-XXXX at this point. Individuals predisposed against writing on walls show no particular increased urge to do so, although SCP-XXXX instances may show up when doodling or scribbling.
Subjects with no interest in graffiti will generally exhibit a Type II Response, and begin to ignore the Graffiti. Subjects are still capable of seeing the graffiti, but will adopt an attitude that it is "harmless" or has "always been there." Subjects in an advanced Type II Response can sometimes transition into a Type I when having a conversation about the merits of Graffiti as an art form, but it is debatable to what extent this constitutes an additional memetic effect.
Both Type I and Type II Responses can be disrupted with judicious application of Negative Reenforcement, Critical Thinking, and/or Cognitive Dissonance therapies. These Foundation-mandated treatment regimes often overlap with traditional parenting techniques, law enforcement response to vandalism, and existing Foundation protocols. Thus, memetic counter-programming is not only relatively simple to implement, it can be and often is performed spontaneously by society at large, at least to an extent.
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| The first recorded instance of SCP-XXXX-1, shortly before its demolition. |
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In 1986, extensive SCP-XXXX accumulation on a building in Queens, New York revealed SCP-XXXX's secondary memetic effect. When the ground floor of a building has reached an advanced stage of SCP-XXXX infection (loosely defined as 75% or more of visible wallspace at or below eye-level covered in SCP-XXXX instances, often including "toys" and "throwies," but not deliberate murals,) that building becomes an instance of SCP-XXXX-1.
Instances of SCP-XXXX-1 generate their own memetic effect on individuals observing any part of the building while under the influence of a Type-I or Type-II Response. Individuals so affected will begin to experience the delusional belief that the building is shaped like an erect phallus. This delusion is mild at first, but becomes more pronounced over time, regardless of whether or not further instances of SCP-XXXX are added to the base of SCP-XXXX-1.
In the case of the original instance of SCP-XXXX-1, this led to protests, demonstrations, and civil unrest, as citizens took to the streets en masse to protest the architectural design of one building. This eventually attracted news media coverage, and despite the efforts of Foundation plants was picked up by smaller media outlets in other states. Due to the rapid escalation of the initial public outrage, as well as logistical issues, proper containment was impossible to affect. As the effects of SCP-XXXX-1 do not propagate through video, the effect only spread to those with direct line-of-sight to SCP-XXXX-1. However, by the second day this included several hundred thousand individuals.
This would later lead the Foundation to undertake a massive restructuring of the news media, as well as encouraging local authorities to institute crackdowns on vandalism, which fortunately could be folded into gentrification programs which were then growing in popularity.
Rather than attempt to track down and dose with Amnestics each of the individuals who had been exposed to the effects of SCP-XXXX-1, the Foundation opted to simply give the protestors their way. A deal was struck in which a Foundation Front Company, Sanderson Property Co., bought the building from its legal owners, with plans for demolition as soon as this could be arranged. The newspapers ran the story on Day 3, with TV crews picking up the story of their own volition by the end of the week. The first-floor walls of SCP-XXXX-1 were painted over immediately, tenants were bought out of their leases one by one over the next two months, and the demolition was completed without incident.
It should be noted that while, technically, the repainting of the walls was sufficient to nullify the instances of SCP-XXXX, the Foundation judged that going through with the demolition was the most effective way of ending news coverage of the building and the controversy surrounding it. Sanderson Property Co. constructed an office complex on the site, and this investment, while bearing a significant one-time cost, has reaped dividends for the Foundation over the decades since.
The incident is now a historical footnote largely unknown outside of New York City, and the Foundation believes it has been successful in downplaying the incident since.
The following quote was taken from a confiscated video tape of a news broadcast, during a "man-on-the-street" interview segment by Channel 4 News.
Reporter: "What do you think about the so-called 'Queens Errection?' "
Unidentified Youth: "Well, you know… I don't know much about architecture. But if there's one thing I know about art, it's that we all have the right to be a dick. But, uh… real quick, can I answer your question with another question?"
Reporter: "Go ahead."
Unidentified Youth: "Are we cool yet?"
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| SCP-2000 |
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Item #: SCP-2000
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2000 should be mounted on its stand when not being tested, and stored in a secure enclosure no smaller than 3m x 3m x 3m. The stand itself should be securely mounted atop a 1.5 meter tall pedestal affixed to the floor, or otherwise securely fixed in the center of the room. Other than during approved testing, no object or obstruction other than the plastic stand is to come within a 1 meter spherical radius, centered on the point of contact between the ship and the stand, unless that object directly supports the stand itself.
At least once every 60 days, SCP-2000 is to be removed from its plastic stand, carried around the enclosure for a period of 5 minutes, and then placed back onto its stand. This procedure has been demonstrated to prevent SCP-2000 from acting autonomously. However, in the event that SCP-2000 spontaneously attacks personnel or raises its "shields," personnel are advised to immediately put down any tools or weapons, move more than 2 meters away from SCP-2000, and wait for SCP-2000 to lower its shields. (This typically occurs after 5 minutes of inactivity.) When its shields are down, SCP-2000 is generally considered safe to approach, and can be manually retrieved.
SCP-2000 should be continually monitored by electronic means for EM and radio transmissions, as well as movement, and any unscheduled autonomous activity should be logged.
All tests involving Landing Events must be scheduled in advance, and approved by Site management of Level 3 or higher, and should only be attempted within SCP-2000's secure enclosure. Outdoor testing is expressly prohibited. Landing Events involving maps, globes and other depictions of real locations are forbidden except as required by O5 Command. Destructive Materials Testing is currently prohibited, see Addendum 1 below. Deliberate observation of SCP-2000's autonomous behavior requires prior written approval from the site's Security Director.
Description: SCP-2000 is a resin model of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701, resembling the ship of the same name from the 1966 American television show, Star Trek. It measures approximately 28 centimeters in length at its longest point. It includes a battery enclosure (currently empty) with a removable cover, and a black plastic display stand.
Materials testing has revealed that the main bulk of the model is a solid mass of polyoxymethylene, laced with trace amounts of various heavy metals, including some radioactive isotopes (which have not been observed to lose mass as they decay,) as well as traces of Cibacron F Scarlet dye and human DNA.
SCP-2000's primary anomalous effect occurs when the ship is removed from its stand. Subjects handling the ship report auditory hallucinations consistent with the main theme of the original Star Trek television series, as well as various iconic sound effects reminiscent of the show. If the ship is then placed onto any object in the room other than its stand, the room containing SCP-2000 undergoes a Landing Event, as outlined below.
In an SCP-2000 Landing Event, the room containing SCP-2000 becomes "seperated" from the facility, appearing black and impenetrable and emitting no radiation, except for a constant surface temperature of 20 degrees celsius, and radio waves, which propagate normally between the interior of the room and the surrounding area. This makes it possible for researchers to communicate with test subjects inside the room during a Landing Event.
Subjects in the room with SCP-2000 during a Landing Event likewise no longer perceive the outside world, other than the aforementioned behavior of radio waves. Instead, beyond the door and any windows, subjects report vistas of alien worlds, often corresponding either visually or thematically with the object SCP-2000 was placed upon. Furthermore, placing SCP-2000 on similar objects often results in the room "visiting" the same world in successive tests. Examples of worlds that can be reliably accessed in this manner include:
| Experiment ID# | SCP-2000 placed upon: | Resulting Xenoscape |
|---|---|---|
| LE-003 | Standard conference table | A grey cityscape devoid of life. |
| LE-005 | Balsa wood dresser | A series of flat mesas apparently made of balsa wood. Constant pecking noises were audible, coming from underground. |
| LE-018 | Pepperoni pizza (hot) | A series of vast underground chasms lined with pulsating, apparently organic masses. Molten lava visible at the bottom of the largest chamber. |
| LE-019 | Pepperoni pizza (cooled) | Same as previous test, except lava replaced with volcanic rock and wall growth dead and decaying. Flag planted by test subjects in LE-018 was still present, but appeared "chewed." |
| LE-023 | Poster depicting an annotated map of Earth's moon | Room connected to Earth's actual moon. D-class were immediately sucked out of the room by explosive decompression. Later, Mare Imbrium Outpost personnel confirmed the presence of human remains; initiated cleanup. Containment procedures updated to preclude the use of maps without O5 Approval. |
Please refer to Document 2000-LE-L for a comprehensive list of worlds visited to date.
Subjects within the room during a Landing Event can exit the room normally, walk around on the extraterrestrial landscape, and even retrieve objects and artifacts. However, all foreign objects so retrieved dissolve without trace within 20 seconds after the termination of the Landing Event.
A Landing Event terminates when SCP-2000 is picked up again by a human subject, or when all subjects affected by the Landing Event have been terminated. Upon termination of a Landing Event, the room is again visible and physically accessible from its original location on Earth.
It should be noted that D-class personnel tend to have a high mortality rate duing Landing Events. For reasons that are not well-understood (but which have been heavily speculated upon by researchers,) D-class personnel are invariably the first to be terminated by dangers present. Test groups comprised exclusively of researchers tend to fare better, although fatalities can still occur. It has been noted that when a mixed group of researchers and D-class participate in the same Landing Event, subjects other than D-class usually emerge unscathed. For this reason, it is recommended that at least one D-class personnel accompany any researcher or group of researchers wishing to study a Landing Event firsthand.
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| SCP-2000 exhibiting autonomous behavior. Researchers provoked a series of "shields-up" responses using a 2,000mW handheld laser pointer, directed at the SCP Object from well outside its 2-meter "scanning" range. It is not understood how SCP-2000 detects the approaching beam prior to impact. |
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SCP-2000's secondary anomalous properties manifest when approximately 70 days have elapsed without the object being handled, or when SCP-2000 perceives a "threat" to itself. In these situations, SCP-2000 becomes autonomous, and will detach from the stand of its own volition. It behaves in a manner similar to spaceships depicted on the show, flying around the room without apparent regard to gravity or momentum, emitting sweeps of radiation out to 2 meters in what is presumed to be active scanning, projecting a visible "shield" around the ship, and discharging energy weapons at threats, out to a maximum range of one meter.
Targets have included a pair of wire cutters held by a researcher, a Rockwell-type hardness tester, the emitter of a 4000 watt CO2 cutting laser, and most of a D-class personnel who, unprompted, attempted to unscrew the main sensor array.
The intelligence of SCP-2000 is a subject of ongoing study, but at this point appears to be quite limited. It does not seem to associate existent threats, such as Destructive Testing tools, with the individuals holding or operating those tools. In general, it will raise its shields immediately when it detects a "threat," vaporize any part of that threat coming within 1 meter of it, and then lower its shields after the threat has been neutralized or has been out of "scanning range" for approximately 5 minutes. It will fly around the inside of its enclosure, but will generally not attempt to pass through open doors, exhibiting behavior similar to that observed in some species of fish when a glass partition is removed from their tank.
However, it is emphasized that Foundation first became aware of SCP-2000's autonomous behavior when it used its energy weapons to cut its way out of the High-Value Materials Storage Locker in which it had been stored for more than 70 days. (Refer to Incident Report 2000-02 for details.) Up until this point, SCP-2000 had been classified as Safe. Due to the projected difficulty of reestablishing containment should SCP-2000 ever seriously attempt a breach, current Containment Procedures are designed to reduce the likelihood of any unscheduled autonomous activity manifesting in the first place.
On 9/08/12, SCP-2000 began transmitting the Fibonacci sequence. It has not, however, responded to any Foundation attempts to communicate. The resurgence of this transmission is often one of the first signs of autonomous activity when the object has not been handled for more than 70 days.
Addendum 1: Following Destructive Materials Test 2000-002, in which researchers attempted to remove a small portion of the main sensor dish, SCP-2000 has resisted all subsequent attempts at Destructive Testing with overwhelming, sometimes lethal force. Special Containment Procedures have been updated to establish best practices for this contingency.
Congratulations. By reading this message, you have just told an alien piece of hardware what to do.
Oh, don't worry, it's not in your workstation. We've got it at the other end of a secure wired connection in sub-basement 03. Ever since one of the lab boys figured out how to make it talk, we've left this message here, both as a calling card, and as a sort of aptitude test.
By accessing this file, you've just passed that test.
You see, sometimes the objects retrieved from SCP-2000 don't melt away after you end the Landing Event. Sometimes we connect to really weird places that are nonetheless real. It's not just the Moon. We've found computers, trinkets, clothing… creatures have followed us home. We get an occasional SCP Object, but most of it is just… stuff.
And we never seem to find the people who created the stuff.
There is one test that we performed early on, which was completely expunged from the records. Even the numbering system was changed to suppress awareness of it. Since then, we have been quietly moving key people around. We need as many people as we can get who can do what you've just done.
You are hereby ordered to report to SCP-2000's enclosure at 05:00 hours tomorrow. Ignore the testing procedures you are given at that time. Once the chamber door closes behind you, you will hear a buzzer. That sound is your indication that the cameras are no longer recording. Retrieve the ship from its stand, remove the ship's battery cover, place the battery cover on the floor EXTERIOR SIDE DOWN, and set the ship down on top of it.
Then step through the door.
You will receive further instruction on the other side. Suffice it to say that you are about to embark upon what may be the most important experiment this institution has ever conducted.
Welcome aboard.
-O5-9
How about a good old-fashioned group test log? Contact WarpZone via wikidot, and suggest some object you would want to try landing the ship on! I'll write what happens here!
//TODO: D-class
This document aims to be a comprehensive list of Landing Event Experiments conducted by the Foundation to date using SCP-2000. Whenever possible, complete testing logs and images from the original experiments are included. Please note that much of this data has not yet been migrated from the old database. Please pardon our dust as we work to complete this transition.
Unless otherwise noted, these experimental procedures were consistently followed:
- Camera set up within SCP-2000's enclosure.
- Radio communication equipment turned on, calibrated, and tested.
- SCP-2000 removed from its stand.
- SCP-2000 placed upon Experimental Surface.
- Initial observations of Xenoscape made through door/windows.
- Door opened. Experimental Subjects exit the room into Xenoscape.
- As of test LE-005, if this is the Foundation's first visit to this Xenoscape, a small orange flag is planted in the ground, in a spot plainly visible from the doorway.
- Control Subjects continue to passively observe Xenoscape, commenting on their observations and answering questions from test supervisor.
- Experimental subjects return to room, bearing objects from the Xenoscape, when feasible.
- Door closed.
- Observations made of retrieved objects; ad-hoc experiments performed.
- SCP-2000 removed from Experimental Surface.
- SCP-2000 placed back upon its stand.
- Experimental Subjects and Control Subjects are separated and proceed to decontamination, debriefing, and medical attention as appropriate.
| Experiment ID# | SCP-2000 placed upon: | Resulting Xenoscape | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| LE-001 | Postcard depicting photograph of Antarctica | Unknown snowy planet. Mountain range resembled that on postcard. Two moons visible in the sky. | Postcard recovered along with SCP-2000; considered a known quantity at time of test |
| LE-002 | Patchwork blanket, primarily earth tones | Alternating plowed and sown fields of various grains | Blanket recovered along with SCP-2000; considered a known quantity at time of test |
| LE-003 | Standard conference table | A grey cityscape devoid of life. | Items collected from buildings disappeared upon termination of Landing Event. |
| LE-004 | A different standard conference table | Same as previous test. Point-of-entry was different, but exploration and mapping revealed an identical layout | D-2635 reported movement out of the corner of his eye several times; could not be corraborated |
| LE-005 | Balsa wood dresser | A series of flat mesas apparently made of balsa wood. Constant pecking noises audible, coming from underground | Flag planted by Experimental Subjects in a spot visible from the doorway. This would later be incorporated into standard Landing Event procedure. |
| LE-006 | Balsa wood dresser | Same as previous test | Presence of flag confirmed. Flag was retrieved and did not disappear after Landing Event terminated. |
| LE-007 | Standard-Issue Laptop Computer | a sizable warehouse, approx. 4m clearance, with structures resembling 2m x 3m circuit-boards projecting from the floor at 2m intervals. Lighting was dim and red | |
| LE-008 | Standard-Issue Laptop Computer (turned on) | same as before, except warehouse was now brightly lit with electricity arcing between circuit-boards | Subjects declined to leave room, citing safety concerns. |
| LE-009 & LE-010 | Standard-Issue Laptop Computer (off, then on) | same as previous tests | industrial multimeter attached to two parallel circuit-boards. Laptop was booted up; no change to Xenoscape. SCP-2000 was picked up and then immediately set back down upon the laptop. Xenoscape now resembled LE-008 and multimeter could be read. At 03:24 minutes, an entire "bank" of boards near the multimeter abruptly powered down. Retrieval of multimeter was interrupted by the arrival of autonomous machines attached to a system of rails along the ceiling. One D-class terminated, with the remaining three suffering electric shocks. Refer to Incident Report R-LE-009-010 for further details. Further testing on standard-issue laptops postponed indefinitely |
| LE-018 | Pepperoni pizza (hot) | a series of vast underground chasms lined with pulsating, apparently organic masses. Molten lava visible at the bottom of the largest chamber. | |
| LE-019 | Pepperoni pizza (cooled) | Same as previous test, except lava replaced with volcanic rock and wall growth dead and decaying. | Flag planted by test subjects in LE-018 was still present, but appeared "chewed." |
| LE-023 | Poster depicting an annotated map of Earth's moon | Room conncted to Earth's actual moon. | D-class were immediately sucked out of the room by explosive decompression. Later, Mare Imbrium Outpost personnel confirmed the presence of human remains; initiated cleanup. Containment procedures updated to preclude the use of maps without O5 Approval. |
| LE-024 | A high-resolution photograph of Earth's Moon, with a red dot marked one kilometer south of Mare Imbrium Outpost | Same as previous test, but landing coordinates now corresponded with the position of the dot. | A series of D-rings and handholds were securely affixed in the corners of the room. A foundation employee with prior lunar excursion experience was outfitted with a spacesuit and oxygen supply, and tethered to the D-rings. Subject successfully contacted Mare Imbrium Outpost. Mare Imbrium Outpost later corroborated this exchange. Samples taken of moon rocks did not disappear following termination of Landing Event. Proposal to use SCP-2000 as an alternative to SCP-120 for moving personnel and material to and from Mare Imbrium Outpost is currently under consideration. |
| LE-025 | Same as previous test, but with the test subject's signature written across the photograph. (Subject was prompted only to "write something on it.") | Xenoscape loosely resembled that of Earth's Moon, but with the addition of a deep river canyon corresponding to the subject's signature. Earth and Sol were not present in the Xenoscape's sky, and the stars spelled out various words in the subject's handwriting such as "Hope," "Fear," "Home," "Mother," and "Danger." | Subject could report no particular personal significance for any of the words beyond the obvious. Materials collected during this excursion were noticeably heavier than their lunar counterparts, and dissolved when Landing Event was terminated. |
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| SCP-XXXX |
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Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-XXXX should be kept in a secure lockbox in Site 37. Factual descriptions of the object or the footage stored upon it must not be stored electronically, or else access to such electronically stored documents must be restricted. It has since been determined through testing that descriptions and photographs of the tape itself do not present an infohazard. Any written description of the footage on SCP-XXXX (including relevant portions of this document,) photographs sourced from said footage, copies of said footage, audio and video recordings of live viewings of the footage, or audio and video recordings of verbal descriptions of the footage must not be stored electronically, or else access to any such electronically stored record must be carefully restricted to printouts and analogue formats.
Personnel assigned to SCP-XXXX testing should be restricted from accessing any and all digital communication tools and devices as per the Luddite Protocol for the duration of their assignment, and are to be treated with Class A Amnestics prior to reassignment.
Any researcher or research assistant discovered to have created an instance of SCP-XXXX-02 should be detained for their own protection; psychological counseling combined with Class A Amnestics can result in an effective return to duty in as many as 40% of cases, although as a precaution all such individuals should be restricted from accessing electronic communications indefinitely, and their speech monitored for signs of a relapse or obsession over their SCP-XXXX-02 instance.
Under no circumstances should the tape be viewed outside of approved testing activities.
Description:
SCP-XXXX is an ordinary VHS tape manufactured by the Pioneer corporation in the late 1980s. The tape bears a worn black label with the words "REVIEW COPY 04" printed on it in orange block lettering. It has been determined through testing that descriptions and photographs of the physical tape itself do not pose a memetic threat.
SCP-XXXX-01 is the video footage displayed when SCP-XXXX is played through an ordinary VCR connected to a compatible television. (Note: As a precaution, the preceding sentence was compiled one word at a time by multiple individuals as a part of Operation: Double Blind. It should not be elaborated upon in subsequent edits by Foundation researchers, at the risk of creating a runaway instance of SCP-XXXX-02.)
Instances of SCP-XXXX-02 are full or partial textual descriptions or recordings of SCP-XXXX-01, for which all of the following statements are true:
- The intent of the description or recording is to present a factual account of the contents of SCP-XXXX-01 to someone who has not seen it.
- The original author of the description or recording has either seen the recording or else has read a previous instance of SCP-XXXX-02.
Interestingly, individuals viewing SCP-XXXX-01 directly do not appear to suffer any direct memetic effects, except inasmuch as they become potential vectors for new instances of SCP-XXXX-02.
Roughly 80% of individuals exposed to instances of SCP-XXXX-02 will experience a compulsion to create a new instance of SCP-XXXX-02, usually in strong disagreement to the opinions expressed in the instance through which they became infected. Instances of SCP-XXXX-02 vary in tone, style, and writing quality, but one common element is a strong lack of objectivity which becomes more and more pronounced as the document goes on.
Once an individual has created an instance of SCP-XXXX-02, they become strongly attached to the opinions they expressed in the document, conflating their sense of self-worth with the validity of the views expressed in their document, often becoming belligerent and even violent when exposed to a contrary opinion.
Curiously, instances of SCP-XXXX-02 only appear retain their memetic properties when stored and accessed electronically. The mechanism through which this occurs is currently not well-understood. Technically, an opinion of SCP-XXXX-01 expressed verbally or written down on paper is not an instance of SCP-XXXX-02. However, any opinion so expressed could theoretically be referenced later in an electronically-encoded document, and could conceivably snowball into an original instance of SCP-XXXX-02 via very few intervening steps. Thus, a total information blackout on the contents of SCP-XXXX-01 and any speech resembling SCP-XXXX-02 is considered prudent as a preventative measure.
SCP-XXXX came to the attention of the Foundation when an agent in the field, Agent M████ noticed a sudden spike in local violence unrelated to his current objective, and began his own investigation on the side. He eventually discovered that the link between two homicides and a series of fistfights was that all of the assailants had visited a website hosted by the planners of a small film festival. All of the assailants and most of the victims had posted in a single thread, discussing a movie named ██████. This thread contained multiple instances of what would later be termed SCP-XXXX-02. Agent M████'s reports during this period were instrumental in securing the original SCP-XXXX tape and stopping the escalating reproduction of SCP-XXXX instances. Known survivors of the forum thread were given Class A Amnestics and released. The forum thread was taken down, and a program was later developed to search the internet for other reviews and discussions of the movie ██████. So far, no further hits have led to evidence of anomalous activity
Agent M████ was later pulled from the field, when it was discovered that he had [REDACTED] to his comments in the original thread.
WARNING: The remainder of this document has been designated a Class 3 Infohazard when accessed electronically. If your research requires access to this document, please contact your department head for a mechanically-retrieved printout.
Redacted notes from Dr. A█████, the first Foundation researcher to investigate SCP-XXXX. At this time, it was thought that viewing the movie was necessary to trigger its memetic effects.
As you can see from the experimental logs, while each class D personnel exposed to SCP-XXXX-01 saw the same imagery on the screen, they disagreed wildly in their interpretations of it. Furthermore, when asked to read each others' reviews, responses became a bit… hyperbolic. Particularly notable was D-1745's contention that D-1736 was "full of shit" in his interpretation of the mattress as a literal object, when his own review in the earlier round of testing had asserted roughly the same premise. It's as if they are more interested in disagreeing with reviews they've just read than in expressing their own ideas. It makes me wonder if, with the right set of experimental controls, might it not be possible to get a test subject to violently disagree with their own opinion?
Recommend keeping subjects separated after future testing. And I request a research assistant to wade through these absurd reviews for me. D-1745's response, while the most notable from the point of view of scientific inquiry, was unfortunately only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to cinematic idiocy. Not one of them managed to recognize the Kubrickian influence present throughout the first scene. The closest thing one of them said to an intelligent reference was when D-1741 said it reminded him of "that fat guy." I thought he meant Hitchcock, so I tried to correct him, but he became belligerent and the guards terminated him ahead of schedule. I later found out from one of the D's that he'd probably meant Homer Simpson.
I mean, honestly, what the fuck is wrong with this batch of D's!? Is it really too much to ask of an ostensibly mature adult that they be able to spot an obvious metaphor when they see one? The mattress symbolizes loss of innocence! This is so insultingly obvious that I feel degraded for even typing it up. You don't even need to see it— the audience's descriptions alone made the director's meaning quite apparent. The scene with the swingset was obviously meant to be reminiscent of Speilberg's earlier works, with the juxtaposition with Kubrick probably meant to be ironic, if not outright sardonic. But just try telling that to Captain Bloodstain of the Fucktard Film Commission. YOU SEE THAT, YOU STUPID FUCK!? BULLET IN YOUR BRAIN! IT'S A FUCKING METAPHOR FOR HOW YOUR HEAD HAD A GIGANTIC WHISTLING EMPTY HOLE IN YOUR SKULL! DID THAT COME THROUGH OKAY!? WAS IT TOO FUCKING SUBTLE FOR YOU TO INTERPRET, YOU COLOSSAL NEANDERTHAL!? YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD NOW! FUCKING ASSHOLE FILM FUCK 6YT B B B BHN BHN5 565R4Y6756RTT45R45RTD 5 4R5E 5
Dr. A█████ was violently striking his keyboard, when a member of the security team interrupted him and ask him what was wrong. He became violent when his opinions were called into question, and was mortally wounded in the ensuing struggle. Future research focused on the reactions of test subjects to instances of what would later be designated SCP-XXXX-02.
(Link to Observation Log 709 collaboration)
Name: Dr. Zone and camera
Date: 11/03/2013
Time: 12:11
Duration: 15 min approx.
Observed: Three hikers backpacking along a trail. Hikers had 8mm cameras for heads. One hiker occasionally smeared a crumbly substance over the lower portion of its camera lens; believed to be trail mix.
Camera: Four decapitated human heads, mounted on stationary chrome tripods. Mouths are open, forming an "O" expression, lips occasionally flexing to make the opening wider or narrower.
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| This explains a lot, actually… |
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Item #: SCP-1966-J
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1966-J is to be kept locked in a stainless steel safe in Storage unit 1260 at Site-76. The safe is to be adorned with wreaths of garlic. These are to be checked daily and replaced every two weeks or as needed. Silver crucifixes, blessed by an active Catholic priest, are to be welded to every side of the safe, including the bottom. The interior of Storage Unit 1260 is to be flooded by UV lamps on two separate redundant power supplies, providing a steady-state irradiance of not less than 2,000 µW/cm² at 15 inches. SCP-1966-J is to be kept in the air by private cargo plane, which will circle the earth remaining in daylight at all times. Any stops to refuel or changes from one plane to another will be done in broad daylight on the runway. Dr. Kondraki and Dr. Margaret Sawyer-Sheen will personally guard Storage unit 1260 and protect the safe with their lives against all vampires, no matter how sparkly and misunderstood. Storage unit 1260 is to be made airtight and flooded to positive pressure with Element #36, Krypton (Kr). The safe is to be painted with alternating blue and yellow stripes one inch thick and covered in chocolate sauce No further special precautions need be taken. Any instance of SCP-███ making eye contact with SCP-1966-J is instantly disintegrated. After the recent attack by [REDACTED] , SCP-1966-J was retrieved and the fire was contained. However, it is only a matter of time until they send [REDACTED]. I hereby recommended the destruction of SCP-1966-J. This is getting out of hand. -Dr. ████████ Destruction of SCP-1966-J postponed, pending review by Senior Staff. All instances of SCP-███ now work for the SCP Foundation, and have been tasked with guarding Storage unit 1260.
That was easy. -05-██
Description: SCP-1966-J appears to be a paperback copy of the 1970 publication The Dark Shadows Book oF Vampires And Werewolves by Jonathan Frid, ASIN: B000GYVHIE, but with handwritten notes in the back and many of the earlier pages blank. SCP-1966-J possesses the anomalous property that anything written in the book about SCP-███ becomes a true statement. If old information in the book conflicts with recently added information, the older information disappears from the text. The book passed through several hands before being picked up by an Agent, and has been edited a number of times for testing purposes.
Thus far, every factual statement about SCP-███ written into the margins of SCP-1966-J by a researcher has become true of all instances of SCP-███ in Foundation custody, while any facts crossed out become false, even if they were part of the original printing. It is unknown what range, if any, the book possesses. Recommend countermeasures based specifically on the contents of SCP-1966-J to keep SCP-███ away from SCP-1966-J. Agents have begun reporting more and more instances of SCP-███ disturbances in broad daylight. Whose bright idea was it to write that Vampires that could ONLY be outside during the day? Dr. Bright is no longer allowed to edit SCP-1966-J. Agents are reporting heavy SCP-███ activity. It is unknown to what extent this is in response to our manipulation of SCP-1966-J. Based on widespread reports, we estimate that either the range of SCP-1966-J encompasses most of the Western hemisphere, possibly the entire planet. Who the hell let Maggie edit the book? We've got Agents out there going "Sparkle-Blind." Krypton? Really? Were you thinking of Kryptonite? Oh, like blue and yellow stripes is any better. Guys, this is going to work. Trust me. Well, fuck. Got any more bright ideas? SCP-1966-J now reads, in its entirety, "All Vampires work for the SCP Foundation. All Vampires firmly believe in its mission, and respect its Researchers, Staff and Administration. All Vampires can be fed by drawing 2.32444 kilowatt hours of electricity from any standard electrical well once per day. Regardless of powers or abilities, no Vampire possesses any particular malicious or malevolent tenancies. All Vampires value human life, civilization, and the universe. The primary goal of all Vampires is to ensure that this book remains safely contained by the SCP Foundation. The secondary goal of all Vampires is to ensure that the contents of this book do not change."
You're welcome. -05-██
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| ^^ Our top Confectionologists can only speculate as to how much sugar was contained within the original specimen. ^^ |
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Item #: SCP-3131-J
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-3131-J are to be kept in a locked freezer unit at Secure Storage Facility BR-██. This freezer is explicitly not to be located within or near onsite break rooms, cafeterias, or kitchens. Instances of SCP-3131-J may only be removed from cold storage for authorized tasting activities. Class-D personnel are temporarily exempt from dietary guidelines while serving as taste subjects.
Description: SCP-3131-J refers to an ice-cream cake topped with additional scoops of ice cream and sundae toppings, to the extent that containment within a standard confectionery box is no longer physically possible. While the size and scope of conventional ice-cream cakes are limited by existing technology, structural integrity, euclidean space, and the laws of physics, instances of SCP-3131-J appear to have been constructed with none of these limitations in mind.
Photographs of complete instances of SCP-3131-J defy rational analysis by physicists and confectioners alike, with experts generally assuming that either the photograph has been doctored, or that it depicts a thin, hollow shell of fake ice cream stretched over a metal frame. This explanation conflicts with firsthand accounts from field agents, who tend to report that SCP-3131-J was comprised of entirely of solid ice cream when cut, was edible throughout, and was in fact quite delicious.
Chemical analysis of SCP-3131-J tends to return nonsensical results, such as one gram of ice cream containing ██ grams of sugar. In particular, the caloric content of SCP-3131-J has proven difficult to analyze, as attempting to burn a sample of SCP-3131-J in a standard calorimeter resulted in [REDACTED]. All future tests that involve igniting a sample of SCP-3131-J are hereby prohibited without prior clearance from the Site Administrator.
Instances of SCP-3131-J exhibit the ability to coerce humans to eat them. Although the delivery mechanism of this effect is not well-understood, it is believed to be at least partially olfactory in nature.
Humans consuming SCP-3131-J invariably report an initial euphoria, but have also reported a variety of anomalous side-effects, including headaches, stomach aches, toothaches, tooth decay, inexplicable weight gain, and auditory hallucinations of distant, ringing music.
Discovery:The first instance of SCP-3131-J was discovered in a freezer case opposite a supermarket bakery in R████████, Texas, despite no order for such a cake having been placed, and no store employee remembering having decorated it. Agents acquired the cake without incident by purchasing it for a price of twenty dollars, plus tax.
The original artifact mysteriously vanished en route to testing facilities, but other instances of SCP-3131-J have been seen in the wild, usually reported by civilians on culinary websites and "foodie" blogs. It is unknown how many instances of SCP-3131-J currently exist, but most instances are partially or completely ingested by the time agents arrive.
Only a handful of partially-uneaten specimens are currently in Foundation custardy.
Addendum: Field agents with food allergies are advised that the theoretical existence of nuts within SCP-3131-J instances cannot be ruled out. It is therefore possible that nuts may come into contact with field agents.
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| ^^ SCP-XXXX ^^ |
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Item #: SCP-XXXX
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures:
Description: I'll do something with this eventually. It was originally an attempt to write a compelling SCP in as few sentences as possible, in response to a dare in the IRC. IT FAILED HORRIBLY. It's a great photograph though. I'll come back to it when I get inspiration.
Addendum:
Note: It wasn't until I got feedback that I realized this entire tale falls apart on the central premise. It's silly for the Foundation to go around faking the deaths of Researchers when they could just tell everyone "they've been assigned to a Top Secret Project." I even went so far as to modify my 2000 Candidate to remove that detail. Not sure why I included it in the first place, except to add even more promise to what lie beyond the door. Anyway. Ignore this tale. I'm preserving it only as a reminder to my future self of the lesson I learned through my mistake. That and some of the characterizations were fun.
"Welcome Aboard"
A Tale by WarpZone
Assistant Researcher Andrew Barnett tried very hard to act like everything was perfectly normal as he made his way to the Landing Event Test Chamber, with the result that nearly everybody who looked at him could tell that something was up.
The first few security guards he passed seemed vaguely suspicious as he stammered a hasty greeting, but the last one had simply smirked knowingly and buzzed him past the checkpoint with only the most cursory glance at his I.D. badge.
The guard had seen this song and dance before. The kid's body language said it all.
He was next.
Even the janitor had noticed, though he tried not to let on. When you noticed too much, they made you take the pills.
Andrew Barnett was all of 23, though he looked about 17. A bright young grad student from MIT, he'd been picked up by both the Foundation's H.R. department and some intimidating gentlemen in a black van, apparently not for his work with Fourier Transforms, but because a decapitated Frenchman he'd never met had declared him both loyal and qualified.
And so he'd been abducted, blindfolded, driven to a warehouse, shown a magic nickel that flipped itself over when you said "wish me luck," but otherwise did nothing, and asked if he wanted to serve with Humanity's first last and only line of defense against the unspeakable horrors that go bump in the night.
He had, of course, immediately told the Agent no.
When it had then been explained to Andrew that his role in this defense would just be to relay instructions and perform recordkeeping duties in double-blind trials, maybe some light clerical work here and there, he'd said he'd think about it.
Then there was a block of missing time, a succession of further interviews in increasingly less ominous settings, a drug test, a physical, a psyche evaluation, some more missing time, another psyche evaluation, some paperwork, and an incident in which his hand was placed into a stone carving of a mouth and he was asked whether or not he was a spy, which he'd assumed was a hazing until someone had informed him that it would have bitten his hand off if he'd been with something called The Church of the Broken God… and then he was shown around the onsite dormitory and welcomed to his new home.
When he'd asked for help sending a letter home to his parents a week later, he was cheerfully informed that his death had been faked.
That had been the actual hazing, it turned out. Though it took him another week to realize it.
No, actually, the Mental Wellness department encouraged new Foundation Employees to write heartfelt letters to loved ones back home, and permitted employees to mail them, with the understanding that what came out the other end was likely to basically be the words "I love you" surrounded by an entire Sharpie's worth of black horizontal lines.
So it was well after this "settling in" phase that Andrew Barnett became bored. The fact that he was capable of becoming bored in his position indicates how truly green he was. He hadn't so much as heard his first emergency klaxon yet, or had to have his memory altered for reasons of personal safety. (Or so they said.)
But it was while he was bored, in between proofreading Testing Protocols and collating Containment Procedures, that he began tinkering with a corrupt data stream on the Foundation Intranet. His queries and suggestions to the sysadmin had gone unheeded, and he lacked clearance to access the source directly, but technically there was no rule against attempting to parse the stream in creative new ways.
And so it was that at 3 am one night, head buzzing with cheap coffee and Ginko Biloba, he figured out that the stream wasn't a data stream per se, but a particularly obscure handshake protocol.
And then his computer had abruptly booted into what looked like a whole new operating system and displayed a message "welcoming" him "aboard," and instructing him to report to a particular chamber at a particular time the next day and to manipulate a skip in a particular way.
The only reason he didn't blow it off as another hazing attempt was because it was allegedly signed by an O5. Newbie or not, he knew that you didn't joke about things like that.
The prospect should have made him nervous. The skip was a resin model of the USS Enterprise, and according to the SCP Document, it could take you to strange new worlds. It was exactly the type of excitement and adventure he'd hoped to avoid when he first turned down that field Agent.
But there was something about that hidden message. Something optimistic and pure. Even in retro-techno block lettering (had they installed a font on the alien device?) and framed by mysterious alien glyphs, (or was that an image someone had knocked together in photoshop to complete the effect?) something about the message called to him.
For a moment, his fingertips rested on the screen. His parents had never seemed so far away. And they were about to get a lot further.
But he had to do it. Part of him actually wanted to do it. But all of him *needed* to do it.
The Foundation needed him.
The buzzer sounded. Andrew Barnett's hands were almost shaking as he reached for the resin model of the Enterprise. For a moment, he was worried that he might drop it on the ground, and either damage the irreplaceable artifact, or worse, trigger an unscheduled Landing Event. (Had they even tried the floor yet? He couldn't remember.)
But a calm flowed through him as he heard the first tentative strains of that famous trumpet. It wasn't like hearing the music, so much as remembering. And the ship seemed to come alive in his hand, gently pressing into his palm, the way a puppy might. He wouldn't drop it. It wouldn't let him.
And so it with with renewed confidence, and even a measure of genuine pride, that he placed the ship's battery cover on the floor… face-down, of course. You wouldn't want to accidentally travel to the outside of the hull… and slowly lowered the ship onto it. It was all he could do not to make spaceship noises with his mouth, and he had a feeling the model in his hand was as excited as he was.
The transition was instantaneous. There wasn't even a flash of light. Suddenly there was no light beyond the airlock he'd just used to enter the chamber. No potted plant. No guards. Only the cold endless black of space…
No, wait. There was a spotlight. Shining on what looked to be a patterned metal floor.
Carefully, listening for the telltale hiss of escaping air, as if he could somehow change his mind faster than raw vacuum could empty out this room, he rotated the wheel, turned the latch, and cycled his way through the airlock.
He emerged into a large metal chamber, dimly lit save for a few spotlights. A technician glanced up at him from where she was perched nearby with a laptop. She waved briefly with one hand. Then she silently turned her attention back to the screen illuminating her face.
Then he heard the buzzer again, and the airlock he had just stepped through swiftly closed behind him.
There wasn't even a pop as the black cube the airlock protruded from disappeared, and Andrew could see the rest of the cargo bay.
And where the black cube had stood, there now shone the dim orange light of a planetary nebula.
The final security guard before the Landing Event Test Chamber chuckled to himself as the sound of a fake explosion briefly vibrated the walls, and the alarms began to sound, but not the REALLY bad alarms. So the eggheads were faking another death, eh? Right on cue. He'd known that Andy kid was next the moment he'd laid eyes on him. Seemed the type. Had the jitters. He didn't know what they were "killing" so many researchers for, but he knew that he had permission to see this part of the masquerade, and the janitor didn't.
"Mental Wellness," he called at said Janitor, gesturing with an unlit cigarette he had just fished out of his pocket.
"Yeah, yeah," the Janitor propped his mop up against the wall and began briskly walking back towards the nearest elevator. It wasn't a bad job. But when they told you to take the pills, you took the pills.
The security guard waited for the Janitor to leave before lighting up. He had about 2 minutes before the Security Director was due to hear the sad news about the toy spaceship's latest Termination, and the whole hallway would be filled with smoke long before then.
"May the force be with you," he said to no one in particular before taking a self-satisfied puff.
Nobody was really around to correct him.
