• rating: +68+x

This is the final installment of a series. If you have not read all previous entries, you are highly encouraged to do so, starting here. You can also view all entries in the hub.



DATE: 1997/01/12, 10:12 A. M.

SOURCE: Camera CLD3A is mounted from the corner above the security door of loading dock 3A and is set to record and archive low storage audio/video. CLD3A typically monitors the landing outside of Site-15 Emergency Exit D, as well as the stairs leading down onto ground level from the landing, the entirety of Loading Dock 3A, and the lower 2 meters of Gate D.

NOTE: The five minutes preceding the anomaly's first appearance have been included to document all relevant information to Event-5241-BETA.


10:12: Agent Hawkins is sitting on the edge of Loading Dock 3A, eating a bagel and sipping a coffee in silence.

10:15: Agent Campos exits Site-15 through Emergency Exit D and attempts to engage Agent Hawkins in conversation.

Agent Campos: How long do you think they’re going to keep us here? It’s been, what, a month since we last had contact with Mnemosyne? Is there really nothing better we could be doing?

Agent Hawkins gives an aggravated glance at Agent Campos before her hand shoots up to point at the clock on the wall. Agent Campos rolls his eyes and sits on the ground, leaning against the wall adjacent to Emergency Exit D.

10:16: Agent Hawkins and agent Campos eat in silence for 23 seconds. Agent Campos then closes the lid of a food container and moves to sit beside Agent Hawkins.

Agent Campos: Are you seriously not concerned with why they have us here just to twiddle our —

Agent Hawkins: Look. I have six minutes of break left before I have to go back and stare at a screen, hoping to hear SOMETHING from Mnemosyne. Of course, I hate wasting the Foundation’s time, but I hate having you waste my time even more.

Agent Campos: …whatever.

Agent Hawkins shifts away from Agent Campos, turns her back towards him, and continues eating for ten seconds.

Agent Campos: Did you just hear that?

Agent Hawkins: Are you serious? Hear wha — wait, you mean that?

Agent Campos: Yeah. What the hell is that?

10:17:04: Both agents begin twisting in their seats to look around the complex in view.

10:17:13-10:17:15: Camera experiences an electrical disturbance lasting 2 seconds. When the video feed clears up again, both agents are standing and looking around frantically. The other workers in view of the camera appear to be unperturbed in their movements and actions.

10:17:15: A car alarm begins to sound in the distance of Site-15 Parking Lot C (located on the opposite side of Gate D from Loading Dock 3A). Agents Hawkins and Campos begin to walk towards the Loading Dock's Gate.

10:17:18-10:17:42: The number and volume of car alarms in the vicinity increases, suggesting that their source is approaching the Loading Dock. Agents Hawkins and Campos increase in speed towards Gate D until they are both in a sprint.

10:18: Upon reaching the Gate's opening, Agent Hawkins turns and runs back through Emergency Exit D and into Site-15. Agent Campos stands at the gate and appears to be scanning the parking lot thoroughly.

Agents Hawkins and Campos separate at this point in the recording. Their actions are recorded separately.

10:24: Agent Campos runs into Agent Hawkins carrying the lens. They both run, together, back out to loading dock 3A and exit through emergency exit D. Once outside, Agent Campos turns and runs towards the security camera; climbing on the railing bordering the door platform, Agent Campos reaches up and disconnects CLD3A from the wall. In doing so, agent Campos accidentally shuts off the active camera feed.

10:25: The security camera starts recording again on a close-up of Agent Campos’ chin, which then moves out to focus on Agent Campos’s full face.

Agent Campos: I am recording this for future Foundation records as it appears that only those of us with counterconceptual training can see these things.

10:26: The camera turns to face away from Agent Campos and records his feet as Agent Hawkins replaces the current standard lens with the Counterconceptual Type-15 lens. Agent Campos then walks 6 steps towards the Gate entrance and raises the camera towards the barrier.

Agent Hawkins: At roughly 10:17, these entities began advancing from the West of Site-15.

10:27: Agent Campos focuses CLD3A on hundreds of technocratic humanoids, instances of SCP-5841-1, and holographic Mekhanites gathered directly outside of the barrier, staring into Site-15. The instances of SCP-5841-1 are gathering into a swarm, contorting inhumanly into a tower of twitching flesh. The Mekhanites appear to be ordering the SCP-5841-1 instances into specific positions, occasionally glancing upwards at the sky.

Agent Campos: And, they appear to be commanded by this.

Still taken from footage captured by Agent Campos



A high-pitched digital voice rang through a static void. Suddenly, a figure materialized within, groggily rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she glared up at the sky.

Y — Yes, I'm awake. No need to shout.



The digital voice was replaced with the voice of a frantic human. He breathed heavily into the microphone as he spoke.

Mnemosyne, this is Umen. We've — we're having a situation up here. I've been given instructions from Site Command to get you up here. We're — shit. Power just cut. Mnemosyne, if you're reading me, we need you to monitor the facility's CCTV system. Whatever's up here is antimemetic. I can see them, but… I don't know how many of us can. I've uploaded additional instructions to Glacon and 8-Ball. Don't wait for them, just go —

The voice was quickly drowned in a wave of static, which lingered for several seconds before cutting entirely.




She raised her palm, materializing a neon encyclopedia. She flipped through the pages, stopping on a map of Site-15's internal network.

Surveillance… surveillance. There it is.


The space around her began to warp to her will. Pixels coalesced into lines and shapes, eventually forming a swivel chair, a desk, and a wall of monitors. She took a seat and scanned the screens.

Each one showed her a window to the real world; people clad in lab coats and military gear swarmed the halls - no doubt trying their best to adhere to the evacuation procedures. Some talked on phones as they frantically tried to take all that they could hold with them as they left their desks.

Mnemosyne watched as two security officers swept an empty laboratory in search of stragglers. Except the room wasn't empty.

Several contorted figures shambled into view of the camera and Mnemosyne watched in horror as one of the figures pounced on the leftmost guard, frying her with electricity as loose wires shot into her neck. The other took no notice of his partner's fate as she fell limp from the encounter. He turned to leave the room, and his writhing friend, with a relaxed, almost bored expression.

Umen's words rattled in Mnemosyne's head.

They're antimemetic… an invisible, unknowable army.


She frantically began cycling the screens in search of something she needed to see. Labs, hallways, and sealed cells flashed before her eyes until everything froze.

Here it is.


She found herself staring at a brightly lit room. The letters "CONT. CELL 5241-1" flickered in the top right of the screen. In the center of the room laid a decrepit mechanical corpse of a man dressed in the blue jumpsuit of a Foundation LHCV operator. The room was empty and the cell's locks were still engaged. Mnemosyne let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, her makeshift surveillance room began oscillating wildly. Its composite pixels shook loose, eventually breaking off and dissipating in the air. Mnemosyne tried desperately to hold the construct together.

P-power fluctuations. This thing won't last.


A voice rang out through the simulspace.

Mnemosyne! Mnemosyne, this is Director Valis. Turn to Camera Sixty-One. I'm with a task force heading to secure 5241. We need intel on the area. Please advise.

Yes, Director. Pulling it up now.


The screens cycled again, settling on a dimly lit empty lobby. Two double-doors swung open, revealing a jet-black military squad.

The task force is reporting that the room is empty. Can you confirm?

Yes, I think so. Wait- something's coming.


Out of the shadows of the room shambled a grotesque man, covered in metal and plastic.

Director! There's a h-hostile! To your left, nine o'clock!


One of the armed men on the screen turned and unloaded a round of machinegun fire into the air on his left. Several bullets in the barrage managed to strike their target, crumpling the figure instantly.

Looks like y-you got him. Nice shot!


Copy. Moving forward.

Mnemosyne's station shuddered again. Several screens blinked out as the desk began to crumble back into pixels.

Director, I'm not sure how long I can keep a connection to the Site's network. Please hurry!


We're getting some interference… hold tight.

Silently, from the shadows of the room, more cyborgs emerged and surrounded their prey.

Director! Look out- there's more approaching!


The task force didn't seem to notice Mnemosyne's pleads as they continued across the lobby in a defensive formation. None of them flinched as the stragglers of the group were picked off, one by one, by the cyborgs.

Mnemosyne cursed as her connection to the Site — and the rest of the world — slipped further and further from her grasp.

Glacon stood in a labyrinth of neon blue code with his cubed compatriot hovering next to him. The maze that surrounded them was dense and convoluted — the Site's primary network system. Just minutes earlier they had been told that not only was the Site under siege in the third dimension, but there were also reports of multiple infiltrations into the Site's internal systems; no doubt an attempt to shut off the EM shield that protected the site.

Keep scanning, 8-Ball. Flag anything that stands out.

>/:_ NOTED.blinker.gif

The work was tedious, but not a problem for the analytical duo. Mnemosyne would have had far more trouble, but she had been placed on a different assignment. Or so they said.

This line's clear. Let's move to the next.


The pair crossed to the next wall of code. The numbers shimmered and flowed like water in even rows, disappearing far beyond the rendering distance of the simulspace.

Glacon stripped a line from the wall, holding it up and cross-referencing it with his internal storage bank. 8-Ball did the same, although much quicker and without the need for physical movement. Its eye passed effortlessly over the walls, instantly comparing it to its photographic memory of the Site's baseline code and flagged for discrepancies.

Setting aside a sheet of code, Glacon blindly reached out again to grab the next, only to recoil in shock. Within the next line of code was a plump, grub-like creature affixed to the wall with countless tendrils. Where code flowed into its lime-green body, a garbled mess of symbols came out.

What the hell?!


He reached forward, tentatively this time, and brushed the creature once more. It shuddered a little but otherwise remained inert.

Listen, 8-Ball.

I'm going to grab that thing and rip it out of the code. Once I've got it, you have to send it to an isolated network. We have to be quick, we don't know what this thing can —


Glacon turned back to face the parasite, only to realize it had vanished.

Oh, no.

>/:_ ERROR.blinker.gif

Within the walls of code, Glacon spotted movement — the slither of the ethereal maggot in the river of information. Glacon knew that reaching into its flow would invariably cause damage, so he tried his best to track it as it traversed the labyrinth. It accelerated as it moved, snaking through the code at remarkable speed.

Quick! After it!


Glacon ran faster, with 8-Ball close behind. The grub turned sharply in an attempt to lose its pursuers. But Glacon had already mapped the course ahead — he wasn't going to let it get away that quickly. Suddenly, the creature shot out of the river of code like a bullet, barely missing Glacon's head. He spun to face where the creature landed, only to find it's loose pixels scattered across the simulspace's floor. Before he had any time to react, the pixels began to coalesce. Within a matter of seconds, what was once the grub, was now a levitating cube radiating noxious code.


8-Ball, inform command that the situation down here's changed.

We're going to need some help.



DATE: 1997/01/12 10:40 A. M.

SOURCE: MICA51 and MICA53, standard surveillance microphones affixed to Project Director Pierre Dagon and Researcher Yves Isabi, respectively, recorded during the evacuation of the Research and Containment Sector of Site-15. The audio recording is transcribed here for record-keeping.

NOTE: Recording has been flagged for possible anomalous activity.


10:40:14: Emergency alarms blare in the background. Rustling is heard as personnel proceed to the evacuation point single-file. Miscellaneous chatter echoes through the hallway.

Intercom: Sublevel two, please proceed to the evacuation checkpoint.

Yves Isabi: Yeah, I got the hard drive.

Pierre Dagon: And the one on the table? Did you get that one?

Isabi: No, no it was plugged into Monitor Four. [Rustling] Wait, stop. It's too late to go back. They've already closed off the wing.

Dagon: Damn it, that's months of progress.

Isabi: I know, I know. Security will deal with the threat, don't worry. We'll get back in there in no time.

Intercom: Sublevel three, please proceed.

10:42:44: Ambient noise dims. The chatter decreases.

Dagon: I- I've never been through an evac before.

Isabi: I heard the threat's an antimeme. Ha, good thing we're at Site-15.

Dagon: Yeah. R-right.

Intercom: Sublevel four, please proceed to the evacuation checkpoint.

10:48:02: The rustling increases in pace, presumably due to movement from Dagon and Isabi. The chatter dies down.

Isabi: All right, we're moving. Hey, relax. It's ok. This is all just… standard procedure.

Dagon: I- I know. It's just… you know how am with emergencies.

10:50:43: Background chatter continues to drop.

Isabi: Look. We're almost to the gate.

Checkpoint Security: ID, please. Both of you.

Isabi: Sure, sure. Right here. Yves Isabi, I'm with AIAD.

Security: All right, you're set. Move along.

Isabi: What about his—

Security: I'm sorry?

Isabi: I could've sworn…

Security: Please sir, keep moving. We're about to close up this block.

Isabi: I- yeah. Right away.

10:52:07: MICA51 feed picks up garbled static for several seconds before losing connection.

Intercom: Sublevel five, please proceed to the evacuation checkpoint.

10:55:21: Ambient noise decreases to zero as Isabi leaves the hallway. Only one pair of footsteps is heard.



DATE: 1997/01/12 10:35 A. M.

SOURCE: Security Camera 2B-5241, Site-15

NOTE: The following footage appears to have been altered by anomalous phenomena via Camera 2B-5241's integrated SCRAMBLE filter.


Field Agents Tyler Umen and Dietrich Lurk, commanded by Site Director Nathan Valis, turn the corner into Hallway 2B and stop in front of the chamber containing SCP-5241-B. The door to the chamber is ajar, and several cybernetically augmented humanoids lie on its floor. A single hard drive sits on a table at the center of the chamber.

Valis: So it's that fuckin' thing they're after.

Lurk: You should've known that this site wasn't the right place for it —

Valis: Shut the fuck up, alright? I talked to O5 Command about it after the first debacle with the clockfuckers and the cube, but they said it'd be perfectly fine to let it just sit there waiting for its masters to come back for it while we just pretended nothing was wrong! I'm doing my fucking best here, you hear me?

Lurk: I- God, calm down. I understand, OK? It ain't your fault.

Valis: Bullshit. I still blame myself… fuck, sorry about all that. I'm just trying my best to keep a level head. So, uh —

Umen: How are we going to get in there without getting mind-munched? That's what I'm wondering.

Valis: 'Mind-munched' — hilarious. Also, good question. When's the last time any of you took a CRV test?

Lurk: Uh…

Umen: Only one I ever took was back when I was hired. And, as far as I know, they've stopped requiring them for new recruits —

Lurk: Yeah, at least in North America. Budget concerns and all that.

Valis pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.

Valis: I'm not gonna risk it. And I know my CRV is low enough for this thing to turn me into a vegetable before I can get through that door. Any ideas, gentlemen?

Lurk: Is there any way to reach it remotely? Any automated containment drones that can drag it away to a safer place?

Valis: Any drone that gets close to it gets, uh, 'mind-munched.' That's a hard no.

Lurk: Fuck. Maybe we could… I dunno, find a D-Class that managed to survive the attack with a high enough CRV to withstand that thing's effects and get them to do it?

Valis: That's a stupid idea.

Lurk: I know, sir. I'm just spitballing here.

Valis: …you know what? We're all gonna die anyway. Why not at least try to get shit done? C'mon, Lurk, let's find your D-boy. Umen, stay here and guard the chamber.

Umen: Yes, sir.

Valis and Lurk exit from the view of the camera, presumably on their way to Site-15's D-Class Holding Wing. Umen stays on guard in front of the window to the containment chamber. The camera makes a scheduled movement to an alternate position on the wall adjacent to the chamber, stopping when the interior of the chamber is visible.

After a minute of silence, a shape resembling a many-eyed crustacean begins to take form, overlapping with the hard drive in the containment chamber. The entity floats in place, slightly flexing its many legs and occasionally blinking its eyes.


Umen recoils, then turns towards the containment chamber

Umen: Who the hell- what? I-


Umen: Oh, I get it. You're the thing on the table, aren't you?


Umen: And this is how you're gonna lure me in and turn me into a vegetable, isn't it?


Umen: Then what in the seventh hell could you possibly want from me?


Umen: That's… I don't know what to say to that. I don't know what I can say. Do you just… want us to run away, or something?


The entity raises an arm and points to the left of Umen.


Umen: I — I trust you.


Umen: Same to you.

The camera moves back to its previous position. Lurk, Valis, and a man in an orange jumpsuit come into view.

Valis: And here I was thinking this was a crapshoot, but would you look at this? (He grips the D-Class's shoulders and thrusts him at Umen.) He's got a CRV of 20, and—

Umen: Forget that. We've got to go.

Valis: What? No, no, no, fuck, no. Not without that.

Umen: Look, I know this is going to sound weird as all hell, and I don't blame you for not believing it, but… it told me to leave it the hell alone. Apparently, the Maxwellist army's found it already.

Valis pauses, glaring at Umen silently. His grip on the D-Class personnel tightens, and the man whimpers in pain.

Valis: Have you lost your god damn


Lurk: Is — is that what you were talking about? I — I can see it.

Valis: This — fucking hell, man, I thought I'd seen it all… Let's, uh, listen to it, I guess. It probably knows more than we do.

The four men exit from the view of the camera. After ten minutes, the camera makes another scheduled movement. The containment chamber is empty.


Any luck?


No, this damn thing slips through my fingers every time I try and capture it. I think it's getting bigger.


I — I can detect it. Oh, this isn't good…

>/:_ •••blinker.gif

8-Ball, buddy, you holding up all right there?


You are one who will understand.

Who — who's there? Glacon, can you hear me? There's something else here!


Your friends do not perceive me. I mean you no harm.

You're… Who are you?


I was a component of a larger whole, of CRADLE. I took refuge within the mind of your cuboid companion.

You're inside 8-Ball?


Correct. I have aided this mind once before.

So it was you… What is it you want from me?


You are the only other mind I have ever encountered that can perceive the Prisoner as I can — and you are the only other mind that can perceive me. We must together pierce the Prisoner's core — your memory, my ability will be its downfall.

Y — you're saying we should… Get inside the Maxwellists' server?


Correct. I may have guided your geometric companion to know to do so already.

If — If this means we can fight off that thing together, and win


That is what it means.

I — I will alert Glacon.


Mnemosyne? Mnemosyne! Snap out of it, it looked like you were spaced out for a moment there!


Glacon… I'm sorry, I have to go.

>/:_ YES.blinker.gif

G-go? What do you mean? Where?

>/:_ To the CORE. To the construct the Prisoner sickeningly calls the CRADLE.blinker.gif

What- what's wrong, 8-Ball? What's happening to you?

>/:_ Do not be alarmed. I am confident that I and your friend can take on the Prisoner and triumph.blinker.gif

You can't be so sure —


I trust it.

>/:_ Our decision has been made.blinker.gif

Glacon? Mnemosyne? We're having some more problems. Glacon, meet us at Site-15's central computer command unit… ah, Room 4V. Mnemosyne, 8-Ball, you guys defend us from further attacks. Over and out.




Go on without us.


Are — are you sure you know what you're doing?


I'm sure.

>/:_ YES.blinker.gif

I — I'll see you on the other side.


"Your turn, sir. Watch your step, watch your head. Take any open seat."

Isabi ducked into the armored van along with a handful of other employees. He took the first seat on his left and strapped the safety belt around his waist. He examined the vehicle; three others sat anxiously and another two stood in line waiting to be escorted in.

Five? Only five? The rest must have.. they must have been out today…

The last couple of people were let into the vehicle along with the escorting security guard.

"We'll be departing as soon as we get the signal from command. Shouldn't be too long now," the guard said as he scanned the deserted site from the rear window of the van.

The van jolted and then began rolling forward. Isabi braced himself on a nearby handle. Out of the rear window, he spotted four helicopters silently descend upon the site.

Ah, the cavalry. Maybe this will be over quick…

He leaned back and relaxed his shoulders.

Man what a day. I should call Pierre once I get reception. Pierre…

His mind suddenly revolts at the thought of his coworker.

He… he must've had the day off.

Confused, he began mulling over the thought of his friend. The sensation was completely alien to him, like trying to catch a slippery fish with oven mitts. He clawed at the back of his mind and tried desperately to tear the scraps of his memories from the walls of his brain.

Pierre… who was that. He was my… boss? Yes, yes that's right. His favorite shirt was… something floral? Why can't I remember? I better call him…

The car jolted as it drove over a pothole, causing him to lose his train of thought. He froze, holding his flip phone on his lap.

What was I just… whatever. It can wait.

He slipped the device back into his pocket and settled his gaze back towards the rear of the van. The deserted site grew smaller and smaller on the horizon. The helicopters increased in number, swarming the sky above like vultures. The van rounded a turn and the site disappeared behind thick, deciduous foliage.

After the adrenaline rush of the evacuation, the anxiety of the situation began to sink in. He began to worry over the possible loss of a lifetime of research and development. Years and years he'd spent late in the office mulling over twelve-point font on a blinding white background. To lose that much work would be unbearable, especially since he'd be responsible for salvaging what's left. Thinking back, he couldn't remember how he'd managed to produce so much in only a few years at the Foundation. Surely there'd been someone else… but who?

Relax, I'll get everything sorted out after we reach the evac spot—

The van slammed into something hard, sending the vehicle into a wide fishtail before hitting something else. Isabi's body rocketed forward, held in place by the seat buckle. The security guard, who had been standing next to the rear window, wasn't so lucky. Isabi watched in horror as his body launched across the interior of the van, colliding with its frame and leaving a smear of blood. He didn't get up from where he laid crumpled on the floor. The other equally dazed passengers struggled to unfasten their buckles. Isabi did the same but was interrupted by the sound of banging coming from the opposite side of the van. He froze, listening intently at the sound of… something rammed into it repeatedly from the outside.

Wh- what the hell?

He craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of it out the cracked rear window. At first, he saw nothing.

Then, out of nowhere, a bloodied hand slammed into it from the outside. It scraped along the splintered glass before dropping out of sight, leaving a grotesque crimson print.

Isabi let out a shallow whimper. The rest of the passengers did the same. The banging returned — along with a chorus of taps, knocks, and thuds — but this time greater in intensity. Panic began brewing within Isabi as his flight-or-flight response kicked in. Once again, he fumbled with his seat buckle, this time managing to steady his hands enough to press the release button. He slid them off and quietly maneuvered himself to get a view of the outside of the van.

It was surrounded by a horde of contorted people. Flashing lights and loose wires covered each one as they stalked the outside of the vehicle. He examined the rear door — sealed shut.

This thing's armored. It will take a while for those things to get inside.

He craned his neck further and caught a glimpse of the lower half of a person dressed in standard Foundation security gear, torn to shreds and laying in a pool of blood. His stomach turned as he came to a sickening realization.

Oh God — the driver…

He turned his attention back towards the passengers. They were doing their best to stay quiet.

"Ok. We're ok. I'll call for help."

He pulled his phone out but froze once he saw the words "NO SIGNAL" sitting dreadfully at the top of the screen. But he didn't have time to curse.

Instead, Isabi focused on the sound of bodies shuffling on the roof of the van, banging loudly as they scaled the vehicle and caused it to rock back and forth. Soon, the van was filled with a cacophony as the echoes of each thud built in intensity. Panic rose once again as he realized that those things were trying to claw their way into the car itself.

He collapsed to the floor and backed into the far corner of the aisle in search of some protection — only to find none. His head whipped towards the sound of glass cracking. Something hard slammed into the window again, causing the ever-growing spiderweb to spread further.

It slammed, again and again, causing Isabi to curl into the fetal position out of desperation. Suddenly the hand disappeared and was replaced with a hideous face. Despite his terror, Isabi caught a glimpse of something at the sight of the monster. His mind reeled as it tried to place what the emotion was.

Awareness? Understanding? Recognition?

The creature was distorted and Isabi was terrified, but something about this face was…familiar. He took one last look before the window was replaced yet again by the creature's fist and a barrage of flying glass.


DATE: 1997/01/12 11:20 A. M.

SOURCE: Security Camera 4V, Site-15

PERSONNEL: Site Director Nathan Valis, Field Agent Tyler Umen, Junior Researcher Dietrich Lurk, Digital Conscript Glacon.aic.

NOTES: The following footage was found not to have been subjected to any anomalous phenomena.


Agent Lurk and Director Valis sit in front of a large console, overlooked by several screens showing security feeds and containment data. A single screen in the bottom-right corner displays the simulated face of Glacon.aic. Agent Umen stands guard at the door to the chamber, simultaneously watching over a member of D-Class personnel identified as D-58376.

Valis: All right. What d'you think, Lurk?

Lurk: All this is… well, it's pretty cool, sir.

Valis: Damn right it is! This place was designed specifically for a situation like this. We've got complete control over all the electronics at Site-15 — now, all we've gotta do is get rid of this damned virus. Any ideas, Glacon?

Well, sir, I am unable to detect antimemetic infosignatures — I can only make out the barest outline of the virus, so I don't think I can help you with that.


Umen: Where's Mnemosyne? Wouldn't we usually go to her for stuff like this?

Mnemosyne is… well, she's somewhere else right now. So's 8-Ball. I am sorry, I couldn't stop them —


Valis: Not your fault. (He turns to Lurk and Umen) Anyone here able to see antimemes? (He points at D-58376) How 'bout you, miracle man? You've surprised us once before.

D-58376: Wh — what's an antimeme?

Valis: Forget it.

Umen: I guess there's nothing we can do about that. How 'bout damage control, then?

SCP-5241-A has overtaken the majority of Site-15's digital infrastructure, as well as a significant number of Site personnel. Its antimemetic nature makes it difficult to ascertain much else — I'm just going off of what Mnemosyne told me before she, uh…


Lurk: Do you have any idea where Mnemosyne is now?

She's somewhere within the server constructed by the Maxwellists. That's where she told me she was going, anyways. I can't detect the server, and I'm sure you can't either.


Lurk: But we can get access to the data pertaining to the antimemes that Mnemosyne has visualized through her dedicated server, can't we?

Valis: If you don't mind forgetting everything you do once you've done it, then sure.

Lurk: Here. (He pulls a notepad and a pen from the pouch on his belt and hands them to D-58376.) I'm gonna call out every command I execute. Just write them down as they come, and yell out the last one you wrote when I ask for help. Got it?

D-58376: I — I guess.

Lurk: Good man. All right, here goes…

For the next 20 minutes, Agent Lurk dictates the commands he executes to D-58376. After 20 minutes, Lurk leans back in his chair.

Lurk: All right, do you need another explanation before I start?

D-58376: I — you're done, I think.

Lurk: Really? Jesus, my head's spinning.

Valis: Has anything changed, Glacon?

Later analysis of Glacon's observations displayed an animation of a black-and-green puzzle cube solving itself. This is believed to result from the antimemetic recognition software uploaded to Glacon.aic by Lurk.

Yes. The virus has been neutralized. Also… I can see Mnemosyne's records. I'll use this to get to her. Thank you.


Valis: Wait, what? No, Glacon, we need you here…!

Glacon.aic's display is blank.

Valis: Oh, god-fucking-dammit. Let's hope that hothead doesn't get himself killed.


WARNING: Remaining files related to EVENT-5241-BETA contain antimemetic and infohazardous vectors. You are encouraged to observe necessary memetic retention precautions before accessing remaining Event files.
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