fragment:prehistoric-artillery-strike-19

SYSTEM ERROR

Item #: SCP-3939

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3939 is currently kept at Site-39 in pre-containment holding cell C (39-PC01-C). When not in testing it is to be kept in a standard containment locker of appropriate size.

Description: SCP-3939 is a gramophone, or record player, of unknown date of origin but consistent with design and manufacturing trends of the 1930s. It has an octagonal wooden base constructed of polished mahogany and is imprinted with the logo of HMV at the time. Atop this base is a turntable which is connected to the gramophone mechanism and a large brass horn. All components are in good condition.

SCP-3939 currently has a black vinyl record on the turntable, which is turning at a standard rate despite no visible source of power. Additionally, SCP-3939 possesses the ability to speak with a voice transmitted through the horn and potential sapience. Thus far it has only been shown to speak to certain people.

The brass horn always rotates to point at the observer. Other observers will see the horn rotate to point towards them.

Further tests are pending.

You run. You see light — real, physical light — and your foot touches the edge of the sunlit exit—

Fabric tears.

It's a mess. In the former doorway is a luminescent silver narrative tangle: storylines growing from a central plot and branching, overlapping with each other, twisting directions like a deranged fractal plant. Hundreds of Senior Researcher ████ ████████ push in and out of the mass simultaneously, babbling incomprehensibly as their voices and actions overlap. It bulges and cracks in the fine, invisible structure of (what was intended to be) 3939's containment narrative widen.

Gunhead Anomalocaris knows this won't be stable for much longer. Their narrative cannon — pitch-white and flickering between 2 and 3D — extricates itself from between the torpedo launchers in their head, taking aim. Another narrative branch to reset.

FIRE