Between its opening in on November 15th, 1971 and the present, Site-64 has seen its fair share of staff role through its doors. From the various regional MTF agents to the dedicated scientists of the Anomalous Materials and Anomalous Electronics labs, the often-overlooked storage facility has been called home by all kinds. These are some of their stories.
Walter was alone.
Site-64 had been built to serve as a glorified warehouse with little in the ways of containing animal life. The gorilla had been stuffed into a small, barren enclosure deep underground. There were no toys to play with. There was no water to splash in. There was only hard, cold concrete and bales of hay. With every passing day, it became difficult to distinguish his current accommodations from those he was originally rescued from by Wilson's staff.
He missed the gentle caress of the sun on his fur. He missed the dancing bear living in the next pen over. He missed the soft breeze carrying with it the scent of doughnuts from Boring. He missed his friends. He missed the human who sang as she hand-fed him mango slices. He missed Faeowynn.
With a loud screech, the primate rose on his hind legs and banged the cymbals, which had replaced his hands, together. He roared and bellowed, demanding to be returned to the Wilsons. Unfortunately, the Foundation's gorilla-translating technologies were non-existent, and Walter was met with resounding silence from his assigned researchers.
"I wonder what it's trying to say."
"Whatever it is, it's not food. We just fed it an hour ago."
"Hmm."
"Do me a favor and issue it the silence command."
The researcher nodded and reached for the microphone, which connected into Walter's pen.
"Thank you, Walter. That was fantastic."
A strong numbing agent ran through his veins and forced him into quiet stillness. The silence boiled into a tranquil fury beyond acceptable levels for Wondertainment products.
"Thank god Wondertainment installed a stop function."
"No kidding. Hey, wanna head to lunch?"
A lot of people say that Oregon is a beautiful place, with vast swathes of forest butting up against a rocky shoreline. Drive ten miles in the right direction and you'll find yourself surrounded by nature ideal for hiking in. All the pictures of the place look like they're straight out of a nature documentary. Tall cliffs covered with pines and elegant rivers, all underneath a clear blue sky.
It took Sarah O'Connell a few years to put her finger on what part of those pictures had deceived her. The beauty of Oregon was a large part of the reason she took the transfer offer in the first place. When you work in a concrete dungeon for eight hours a day, coming home to asphalt and brick doesn't feel like that big of a change.
Even after she stopped smoking, at half-past two Sarah would work her way up to the surface access overlooking Miller Creek running above Site-64. She'd lean up against the handrail and just look at the sky. She told herself it was a change of scenery.
"Isn't it a bit cold to be out here?" A voice asked from behind her.
"I don't mind it."
Edgar strolled up beside her and rested his hands on the rail. He refused to put any weight on it.
"Wonderful weather we're having here," Edgar joked, "You think it's going to actually rain?"
"Nah. I think the sky just likes to be grey for the hell of it." She was certain about this. It's funny how big a difference the weather plays in the way one looks at a place. Without the blue sky, the water loses its vibrancy, and the rocks just look like rigid outlines of clouds. Depending on where you're at and the time of year, the trees can lend a little color to the scene, but around Site-64 all the flora had given up their leaves. The view didn't look much different from inside.
"How much would it cost to paint the walls?" Sarah asked.
"Not a lot, but probably more than Overwatch would like."
"What if we did it ourselves?"
"You think we can afford the man-hours?"
"Something something morale and mental health."
Edgar couldn't help but smile, "You finding a new passion for interior design?"
"Maybe some blue for the ceiling. And orange in the hallways."
"We can do the offices hot pink."
"I like it. I'll start drawing up a proposal outline."
Edgar started to laugh to himself as Sarah headed inside. He didn't take his eyes off the glowing spot where the clouds hid the sun.
"I can't tell how serious you're being anymore," Edgar said before Sarah left the surface. She paused before entering the site again.
"Honestly, I just want to feel like I can actually leave this place. It'd help if everywhere in the damn state didn't look the same."
It was a crisp day, thought Dr. Mark Kiryu. The fresh spring air was crisp. The apple he had consumed earlier in the transport to Site-64 was crisp. The smart clicking of shoes on the floor was crisp. The new labcoats for Kiryu Labs, currently worn by himself and his former-assistant, now new co-director… well. Crisp.
Mark hid a grin as he raised a hand to wave at one of the other researchers they passed in the corridors; the motion made visible the simple dragonlike embroidery done on the right cuff of the white coat. Courtesy of his Dr. Riven Mercer, co-director of Kiryu Labs, who refused to give up his sewing hobby no matter how much fun the interns and junior researchers poked at him. Riven had plenty of practice tuning out teasing as he’d grown up following around his eccentric mostly-service-dog-trainer-kinda-hippie parents.
Riven was idly checking messages on his phone. Since both he and Mark were away from their usual Site, that meant someone else in their lab group would be feeding the lizard who lived in their break room. Riven cared about his grumpy spiky boy very much, and meant needing hourly updates.
"I think we had some good fun, don’t you, Rivs?" Mark said breezily as they strode in the direction of one of the Site-64 cafeterias.
"Well… it was nice to see how Site-64 handles anomalous items processing. And I did take some notes about practices we can consider implementing into the Kiryu Labs protocols." Riven slipped his phone into the pocket of the cargo pants he wore under the lab coat.
"What did you think about the kid with the turtle?" Mark held a door open for Riven and the gaggle of interns walking behind them.
"The one who asked if we could write him a recommendation? To be lead caretaker of the turtle that blows bubbles made of sugar glaze?"
"The very one. Let us call him… Junior Researcher Happyman."
"…right. And I suppose we'll call the anomalous turtle a code name too."
"Turtle the Turtle."
Riven rolled his eyes and made some obliging "hmm" sounds. "Well Mister Doctor Person Kiryu, I believe that Junior Researcher Happyman has exhibited exceptional initiative in his care of Turtle the Turtle. He has not only been willing to devote particular care to the entity’s diet, he has also taken it upon himself to make sure that the terrarium is clean and free from any unwanted contaminants that may negatively affect data collection. This shows attention to detail that is ideal in a laboratory environment."
At the entrance of the cafeteria, Riven abruptly stopped walking as they approached a vending machine. With a flourish, he withdrew his Foundation ID, jabbed it into the card slot on the machine, and made a selection for dark chocolate chip cookies.
"Aaaaand while I advise careful supervision at the start to make sure they are adequately addressing their other duties of higher priority, I believe that Happyman would make an excellent primary caretaker of Turtle the Turtle." Riven finished as both doctors watched as the package of cookies slid out from the holding rail and snagged on the side, refusing to drop into the reception slot.
Mark kicked the machine and the package dropped down for Riven to retrieve. "Sounds good, Rivs. Write that bit up, and I’ll submit it to the Site-64 board. Kid had some spine to ask total strangers to do a favor for him, but he's got the makings of a good biological entity researcher and you can tell he'll treat the specimens with care and respect."
By the time Mark finished speaking, Riven had already opened the cookie package and was chewing contemplatively. "I've heard you say that about someone before."
With a sunny grin, Mark sidled over to the cafeteria menu display. "Of course, Rivs. And look where you are now. I like to think I am a good judge of character. How's your lizard doing?"
Gabriel Merlo had been on the wrong end of a shotgun more times than he would like, but the empty barbell hanging over him was somehow more intimidating in that moment. He had followed the instructions on the fitness website to the letter — but it was that final step, the lifting of the barbell, that made him quiver. Thoughts of sprained arms and torn ligaments raced through his mind.
Gabe took another look around the room. The sight of so many taut, toned individuals pushing both themselves and the gym machines to their limits made Site-64's Director of Finances positively bubble with bodily envy. He wanted to slink out of the room and bury his grief in some chicken korma. But he slid back under the bench. Even more so than korma, Gabe wanted to look at these people as equals.
He also wanted to be able to lift Sasha up when they had sex.
Gabe gritted his teeth and reached up, wrapping his hands around the rough patches on the bar. Slowly, he lifted it off the bar and lowered it onto his chest. Then he pushed. Equally slowly, the bar rose back into the air until Gabe's elbows were locked. He took a breath, then lowered the bar back onto the safety catch.
"Hey Gabe. Your form's off."
Gabe looked over to the source of the voice: Agent Clarissa Shaw, leader of Mobile Task Force Gamma-13. She was wearing a plain black tank-top and sweat pants, with earphones in hand and smartphone clipped to her waist. It made Gabe, in his fleece shorts and The Breakfast Club T-shirt, feel unprepared.
"I'm doing well, Clarissa. How are you?" he said.
Shaw exhaled. "Haha. I don't wanna interrupt you too much. But if your form's bad you'll get nowhere fast. Want some advice?"
Gabe smiled apologetically. "I'd appreciate it. I'm new to the whole 'gym' thing."
"Hey, you're here." Shaw moved over to Gabe's bench and stood over him. "That's something to be proud of."
She grabbed his hands and adjusted them onto the barbell. "Keep your wrists level — no, parallel, parallel to your hands. Don't flare your elbows, that's what you were doing wrong. It'll hurt your shoulders."
She stepped back. "There we go. Feet planted on the ground, wrists parallel, elbows tucked in… Nice. Now lift!"
Gabe slowly lifted the barbell overhead. Now that he was actually lifting properly, he could feel the strain. He was afraid his arms might snap off at the elbows, but they held.
"Now hold for one second," Shaw said. "Lower it slowly 'till it's barely touching your chest. Then lift immediately. Don't keep it down."
Gabe concentrated on Sasha. With a herculean effort, he lowered the barbell down and then raised it back up.
"Nice!" Shaw said. "One more time… again… last one!"
Gabe repeated the motion three times. Each time he was sure that his arms would detach from their sockets. As the weight came to rest upon the safety bars, Gabe gave a final loud gasp and his arms flopped bonelessly towards the ground.
"Thank… you," he wheezed.
"Take three minutes break," Shaw said. "That bar weighs forty-five pounds. Good job!"
"You think so?"
"When was the last time you lifted forty-five pounds?"
"Point taken," Gabe said. "Have you got a workout for today?"
"Oh, I was actually about to head out," Shaw said. "Today's my cardio day, I ran about 3K on the treadmill."
"Nice," Gabe said. "Do you lift weights?"
"Oh yeah," Shaw said. "I have a whole routine. 6-day workout, alternates between cardio and weights. Send you a link? I got into it way back when, after Anderson wrecked my spine."
Gabe tried to hide the flinch, but there was a reason he was an accountant and not a spy.
Shaw chuckled lightly. "Hey, it's my spine that got broke, right? I can laugh about it now."
"Yeah, that makes sense," Gabe said. "You've bounced back really well."
Shaw scratched her back. "It doesn't hurt the prick gave me a new one."
"How's it been treating you?" Gabe asked.
"Bit of a pain to be honest. I gotta keep an ACE bandage around the thing, make sure it doesn't peel off. That actually happened to me a couple times when I first got it installed — fucking irritating when you sweat so much your legs drop out from under you."
She shrugged and checked her watch. "Still, I'll take it over the wheelchair any day. Alright, break's up. Back on that bar. Five reps, let's go. Keep those elbows tucked."
Forty seconds later, Gabe thought he might die. "Oh, it hurts," he groaned as he let his arms flop. "Feels like my arms are gonna fall off."
Shaw giggled. "Take three minutes, then you still got three more sets to go."
Gabe sat up and bonked his head on the bar. "What?! Auw!"
He rubbed his forehead.
"Yeah," Shaw said. "Five sets of five reps each. Then we'll move onto squats, then get you started with the barbell row. Then we'll get you started with pushups, crunches, rowing."
"Oh God," Gabe said. "There's more?!"
"Sorry to burst your bubble, bud, but you can't just do one press and get anywhere," Shaw said. "Did you even have a plan for your workout?"
Gabe hemmed for a moment, then smacked his lips exaggeratedly.
"That's what I thought," Shaw said. "Hey, having a plan is half the battle. Congrats, you've got a workout coach now."
"Are you sure?" Gabe said. "I don't wanna take up your time or anything. I'm sure you've got other stuff to do."
"On a Sunday?" Shaw said. "I was just gonna go home and rewatch The Office for the twelve dozenth time. Plus I owe Sasha like, a dozen and a half different favors. I figure getting you into shape has gotta be worth at least three of them."
"But then I'll owe Sasha for making you owe her," Gabe said. "No matter what, she still has three favors left!"
"Ye gods!" Shaw said. "She's been playing us like fiddles!"
They laughed.
"You are one lucky sonovabitch to have landed her," Shaw said.
"Don't I know it," Gabe said. "I gotta pinch myself every morning when I see her, make sure I'm not dreaming."
"Ha! Back under that bar, lover boy."
Forty seconds later, Gabe let out an exaggerated grunt and flexed his biceps. "You know, I think it's working," he said, hands resting on the barbell. "I can't wait for Sasha to see these guns."
"Make sure to tell her I'm coaching you," Shaw said. "I already owe her a bar tab, I can't owe her a favor tab too."
"Tell her yourself," Gabe said. "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"
Shaw waved her hand. "Ah, I couldn't — I don't wanna impose or anything."
"Oh, please," Gabe said. "It sounds like this workout is going to run at least an hour and a half. Plus Sasha's got the night off. When was the last time you two got together?"
"Well — I mean — well it sounds like you two ought to spend some quality time together," Shaw said.
"Date night was yesterday. We dropped Jessie off at my parents and hit the roller rink. That woman can do things on skates that Tony Hawk couldn't on a board."
Shaw's eyes lit up. "Oh, all right," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "I really can't refuse, can I?"
"You can't escape, Clarissa. I'm making my special chicken korma…"
Shaw narrowed her eyes. "I'm not gonna owe you a dinner tab, am I?"
Gabe winked. "Let's call this one a quid pro quo."
"Hey, Jake?"
Researcher Conwell looked up from his desk, towards his office door and the Anomalous Materials Lab that lurked beyond. Standing in the threshold was one of the newer hires, a young woman named Sonia.
"Everything alright?" he asked, turning down the music that was playing from his computer.
"The AMAT and Paratech symposium at 81 next month," she replied. "Have you already picked what the lab is going to present?"
The older researcher leaned back in his chair and chuckled.
"The snakeskin grafting project you and Apruva are working on is pretty promising," said Conwell with a small grin. "But no, I haven't decided yet. The Director is going to want a say in what we send out so we put our best future funding foot forward."
Sonia's shoulders sunk. She frowned briefly, then gave a nod of understanding.
"Just thought I'd check," she eventually said. Without another word, she began to take her leave.
"You really want to go, huh?" Conwell called out.
"This is the most excited I've been for a project since I started with the Foundation," Sonia turned with a sheepish grin.
"Well, then I suggest you and Apruva get a rough draft of your presentation to me by Monday. If I like what I see, I'll pass it onto Holman. With any luck, by this time next month, you and Apruva will be at Site-81."
Sonia blinked, opening her mouth to speak. No sound came out.
"Well," Conwell chuckled again. "Get going."
She nodded, and quickly bolted through the door, only stopping as a moment of realization hit her.
"Wait," she called back into the office, "You wouldn't be there too?"
"As much as I would love to be in the middle of Indiana in the dead of winter, and listen to the panacea guys go on about active ingredients for the twelfth year in a row, I think I'd rather spend the holidays here, with my family," Conwell replied. "Besides, I've got a real go-getter who wants to go in my place this year."
Conwell couldn't see Sonia's face from the other room. A silence fell over the lab.
"No taksies backsies!" Conwell added. He then turned his music back on and returned to his paperwork.
Cite this page as:
"Scenes from Site-64" by A Random Day, Captain Kirby, Jacob Conwell, Uncle Nicolini, and Zyn, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scenes-from-site-64. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.
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