This is the first expedition that displayed the interior of SCP-4012 in full. Previous expeditions lost contact with the subject after the 135 meter mark.
D-112 stands outside of SCP-4012-1. He is a man in his late twenties. The weather that day is cloudy and somewhat rainy. D-112 has received an optical implant that streams video to Command, and is connected via an earpiece. He is also wearing an electric shock bracelet.
D-112: Alright, so I just walk along this path, see what happens? That it?
Command: That’s it.
D-112: Is anything gonna jump out at me? Like, a big slimy monster with twelve limbs or something?
Command: No, we don’t think so. As far as we can tell it’s pretty normal in there.
D-112: If it’s so normal, why am I going in?
Command does not answer.
D-112: So, I’ll just head in, then.
Command: Yes, please do so.
The delay from Command has been logged, but cannot be accounted for. D-112 unlatches the gate and begins walking down the path. The first 23 meters proceed without incident.
Command: D-112, can you please describe your surroundings?
D-112: Sure, looks like Maine coastal forest, alright. Pretty similar to where I grew up, around Boothbay. That’s about an hour from here. Lots of spruce, moss, this trail has roots in it. Bit of a saltwater smell.
Ahead on the path, there is a rustling noise. Two figures, appearing to be an overweight man and woman in hiking clothes, briefly appear walking ahead of D-112 before rounding a corner and turning away.
D-112: You saw that, right?
Command: Indeed we did, D-112. You’re going to be just alright. Nothing is going to hurt you. It’s probably just some sort of refraction from the path in times before. Like, other people who’ve entered SCP-4012. You’re fine.
D-112: I thought you said they weren’t going to hurt me.
Command: They probably won’t. Just proceed, that would be appreciated.
D-112: Alright. I’ll keep my distance though.
D-112 continues along the path for several more meters. Birdsong gradually ceases and no longer becomes audible. After about seventeen minutes D-112 appears to have proceed 100 meters. The time discrepancy is noted.
After 112 meters, D-112 begins whistling the song “It Was A Very Good Year” by Frank Sinatra.
Command: Please stop whistling.
D-112 does not comply. Command attempts to activate his emergency shock bracelet. This fails as well.
The figures continually walk ahead of D-112.
D-112: (singing) And I think on my life, hmmm-hmmm-mmm-mmm.
Twenty-five minutes from entering SCP-4012's farther boundary, D-112 discovers the mark left by the previous D-Class expedition at the 135 meter mark.
D-112: What’s going to happen to me after I step over this line?
Command: We don’t know, you’re the first person to cross over with a camera that can’t be switched off.
D-112: Am I going to be alright? I really don’t want to die.
Command: You’re not going to die. Relax.
D-112: I think I should let you know the terrain is looking somewhat different ahead.
Command: How so?
D-112: I don't know. It's looking more manicured, if I guess that's the right word. There's a lot more ferns and things that are on the forest floor. It's kind of pretty actually.
Command: Noted. Proceed with caution.
D-112: Okay. (D-112 takes several deep, slow breaths before proceeding, steadying himself and calming himself.)
D-112 crosses the line and begins to proceed down the path into SCP-4012. As he previously noted, the ferns and shrubs on the forest floor appear less like naturally growing plants and more like an artificial attempt at recreating a forest.
Small signs appear next to the plants around the 140 meter mark, identifying the species names in Latin as well as the common names in a variety of languages. Frame by frame playback shows the languages to include English, French, Hindi, Wei Bei Font, Hopi, Adytite, Proto-Hungaric, Simplified Mu, Daevic, phonetically spelled Proto-Uralic and several unknown languages with curving and geometric characters. D-112 does not stop to inspect the signs.
The hikers are still ahead of D-112. It is now sunny.
At the 150 meter mark, the trees move from coniferous coastal forest to deciduous oak and ash. Flowering plants native to various regions across in the world appear in mulch beds.
Command: D-112, could you stop to inspect the various plantings around you?
D-112 does not stop.
Command: D-112, please respond.
D-112 appears not to hear Command. The path beneath his feet changes to solid pine needles and soon to gravel. The forest is thinning out significantly and the path appear to branch ahead.
D-112 does not stop.
There is a large wooden building ahead with large glass doors. An image of a dock decorates the doors. Mouth-entities bustle in and out. D-112 walks towards it.
Command: Do not go in there. Turn back now!
D-112 walks up to the doors and pushes them inwards. Attempts to capture still photographs of the interior fail at this point.
Command: Please turn back.
The interior of the wooden building is a large lobby with skylights. There are structures similar to a customs or border checkpoint with queues with one way gates. Mouth-entities in booths are at the end of each queue. Aside from them, D-112 appears to be alone.
Command: If you go through those gates, you can't come back. You still have a choice. Come back now.
D-112 proceeds down the empty queue.
Command: Please!
D-112 approaches one of the booths. The mouth-entity at the counter begins to growl and gibber at him. D-112 nods and looks down. His orange jumpsuit has been replaced with a dark three piece suit.
Command:D-112, please! I'm begging you, please! There's still time. Turn around and come back, please! You don't have to go there!
From his suit pocket, he removes a small blank piece of paper the size of a business card and hands it to the mouth-entity. It inspects it, inserts it in a featureless black machine behind the counter, and then returns it to D-112, who briefly nods. The entity waves D-112 through the gates.
Command: No, no, no, no, no. (Command begins whimpering)
D-112 proceeds through the glass double doors at the front of the building. There is a cobblestone path with a mosaic depicting a galaxy in front, leading to an immense parking lot. There are cars of varying vintage and model, the oldest visible appearing to be from 1910 and the newest of unknown make, some lacking wheels. All cars appear to be in very clean condition. D-112 begins to walk across the lot
Command has noticed that D-112 is no longer blinking.
D-112 approaches a silver BMW X6 M parked nearby, opens the door, and sits in the drivers seat. The X6 M has no license plate. There is already a key in the ignition. He turns it and the car begins moving of its own accord. The countryside surrounding the building and gardens can be seen, consisting of a forest from an unknown region of the world, with significant bare patches.
D-112 exits the garden/customs facility through a long driveway ending in a gate. He turns onto a long highway cutting through the forest. He drives uninterrupted for approximately thirty minutes.
Command: D-112?
Aside from forest, there are no landmarks on the road, and it is perfectly straight with no curves or hills.
Command: D-112, I need you to answer.
Abruptly, D-112 arrives at a four way intersection which did not immediately appear ahead. It is busy, and is along a main street resembling a modern American small town. A number of buildings with 1920s-1930s architecture are occupied by modern American-based chain outlets as well as specialized boutiques including probable juice bars within D-112's eyesight. He cranes his head to look both ways up the street. To the left the main-street gives way to big box stores, fast food restaurants, and a mall. Notably all text is absent from buildings, save logos. To the right it gives way to large upscale houses. D-112 turns right within a break in traffic.
Command: I'm sorry. I'm so sincerely sorry.
D-112 drives for approximately one kilometer before pulling into one of the driveways. Notably, all the houses are located along a river running parallel with the street. At no point previously did D-112 cross a bridge. In every backyard is a dock with a small boat anchored to it.
He exits the car and approaches the front door. It is opened by a mouth entity dressed in stereotypically female costume, which gargles brightly and embraces him. It kisses D-112 on the cheek and leads him inside. Note that D-112 was homosexual, and was in a relationship with another D-Class prior to SCP-4012 assignment.
Two smaller mouth entities, one in a T-shirt and shorts and one in a dress, run up and hug him, chattering and gargling all the while. D-112 does not hug them back, nor show any real reaction at all.
Command: We should have done better by you. I'm sorry.
The house is similar to an upper-middle class suburban house, with a television, couches and chairs, houseplants, a staircase probably leading to bedrooms, and a large kitchen with an island and dinner table. D-112 sits down at it.
Command: Look, you're not a death row prisoner. We just picked you off the street and made you believe that. I'm so sorry, you were just living your life. You didn't deserve this. You had a life once.
The mouth-entity, which appears to be acting as D-112's wife, brings a large pot of steaming food to the dinner table. It serves everybody. The food is a porridge-like lump of purple grains containing live, wriggling pink worms. D-112 does not react. The wife mouth-entity pours what appears to be Karo brand corn syrup over the worm-porridge.
Command: Goddamnit, I'm gonna vomit.
D-112 begins to eat with a spoon, very rapidly. The worms scream as he eats them. The mouth-entities chatter animatedly and appear to be attempting to make conversation with D-112.
Command: We're monsters.
Following dinner, D-112 ascends the staircase, gets out of his suit, and hangs it up in the closet next to a row of identical suits. He gets into blue pajamas, brushes his teeth robotically in the small bathroom with a substance identical to the worm-porridge, and goes to tuck the child mouth-entities into bed. They are both absorbed in devices similar to a smartphone or hand-held game system and do not acknowledge D-112. He stares at them for about thirty seconds, turns out the light, and then lies down in the bed intended for him.
The wife mouth-entity is already lying down, nude. It has no breasts, but instead a large penis like organ where they should be. D-112 takes off his shirt and looks down at his own chest, where there is a vertical slit. The two climb into the bed and proceed to copulate.
Command: I can't look away any more. I physically can't. If you're still listening D-112, I physically cannot leave my chair or alert help. It's something about you, D-112. It always has been.
Copulation lasts two minutes, and then both parties fall over and immediately fall asleep. For the first time in hours, D-112's eyes close.
Almost instantaneously, D-112 awakens in what appears to be morning. He goes to shave in the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. His face is slack and relaxed. There are no expressions of any kind. Notably, despite entering SCP-4012 in his late twenties, he appears to be roughly thirty years old.
After getting dressed in another suit and drinking a cup of a dark liquid from a mug, D-112 climbs in the BMW X6 M and drives to an office building beyond the mall, where he takes the elevator to a cubicle in an office. Every other worker is a mouth-entity. One mouth-entity in a loose suit runs over to where D-112 is sitting. It shrieks and gibbers at him loudly. D-112 nods and begins to sort papers marked with straight horizontal lines. The mouth-entity, presumed to be the manager of the floor, walks away.
The sorting continues uninterrupted for three hours.
Command says nothing.
D-112 leaves the office building and drives to a fast-food restaurant resembling a KFC. The family mouth-entities are present, having driven another BMW X6 M to the eatery. It is evening already. The KFC is staffed by and serving only mouth-entities; outside of the garden area, D-112 has been the only human. The family enters and orders one eight piece bucket meal and several very large soft drinks. The meal delivered, however, is more of the worm-porridge in the KFC bucket, and the soft drinks contain the corn syrup substance.
The family drives home in D-112's car, having abandoned the duplicate at the restaurant. They watch a television program, consisting of a mouth entity in closeup slowly opening and closing its mouth, for ten minutes.
The previous bedtime routine repeats.
Command: (inaudible)
The next 'day' follows similarly to the last one, only with the family eating the meal at home. D-112 appears to have aged again, and the child mouth-entities are larger. The evening includes D-112 helping the child mouth-entities with some form of homework, appearing identical to mathematics used in quantum physics. Note that the children do not ever appear to go to school.
The next day after that is identical to the second day. D-112 continues to age. He appears in his early forties. Mouth-entities representing the wife mouth-entities' parents visit for dinner. They spend the entire visit screaming and chattering at each other. Eventually the father-in-law mouth entity grabs the mother-in-law mouth entity by the hair and slaps it. It takes the skin on the other's forehead and rips it off, revealing a single blind, rapidly moving eye. The mother-in-law mouth entity screams and shrieks. D-112 does not look away.
The days get shorter and shorter. One day the family visits a church-like building. The stained-glass windows show various mouth-entities worshipping a large exploding star set on a grid of some kind. A mouth-entity dressed as a pastor shrieks for ten minutes before they leave.
Command: What if it's not the Foundation, what if I'm the monster? Oh god, D-112. Oh god. It's all my fault. It's my fault.
The town's geography is getting smaller to accommodate the shortening days.
D-112 is in his early sixties by "Day 8," and the child mouth-entities are leaving in identical BMW X6 Ms, presumably for college.
D-112 has said nothing.
Command: Once, when I was in high school, I sexually harassed a girl. She was wearing these, these tight shorts and I complemented her rear in a leering sort of way and she got very angry and very scared. I even attempted to touch it and at that point, you know, I got very red and then I started to apologize profusely and she seemed to shrug it off but I was reported to the principal and there was all this disciplinary consequence that had to happen. It was the only time. I swear, I've tried to lead a blameless life. I've tried. I think about her face every night, D-112. Every night.
Command: Since I've joined The Foundation, I've sent a million D-Class like you to your deaths. Told them it would be alright. But why? Why you? Why this town, why this anomaly? I feel so guilty, so ashamed. My eyes hurt, I can't ever atone. You're not even dead. I can't ever atone. I am stuck with my sins for eternity. I am unclean, I am unclean, I am unclean, D-112.
D-112 is in his mid seventies. A full 24 hours at the monitoring site have passed but Command has not left.
Command: I want to die.
Day 10 is only thirty minutes, a full five minutes of which is devoted to some sort of office party for D-112's retirement. He retires for the night, forgoing sex with the wife mouth-entity.
D-112 wakes up at what appears to be the middle of the night. There is a series of humming sounds. Command discovers their audio communication system is missing.
He makes his way down through the backyard to the dock. He walks down the steps out to the water. He faces the opposite shore for thirty seconds before turning around to face the house. He then stares straight up at the sky. They do not match any constellations seen from any point on Earth. Analysis of D-112's focal point indicates that he is staring at the darkness between the stars.
The stars begin to spin.
Blossoms of color similar to phosphenes produced within the retina begins appearing between the dancing stars. They are green and purple.
D-112 begins to grunt and moan. This is the first time he has vocalized. He looks down from the moving night sky and stares straight left. The optical implant begins to move forward from his eye socket. D-112 is now yelling in pain.
The implant breaks free of the optic nerve and levitates forward roughly 30 centimeters before spinning around and facing D-112. His blue pajamas are stained with blood, which is dribbling from his empty eye socket. He is sobbing from his other eye.
D-112 begins to distort, growing in length while decreasing in circumference.
D-112: No…
The distortion on D-112 continues, and his sobbing becomes more distorted as his body grows taller and thinner. Eventually the top of his head passes out of range of the camera. He is estimated after roughly 30 seconds to be only 2 or 3 centimeters in circumference. His height cannot be determined. There is a loud sucking noise somewhere above the camera and D-112's body continues to grow thinner until it appears to vanish altogether. The humming is now 80 decibels. Between the humming and the sucking noise it is unknown how the optic implant camera can be recording sound when the earpiece is gone.
The optic implant rotates upwards, towards the blossom of color. It very quickly speeds upwards, gaining escape velocity very quickly. There is no sign of atmospheric friction or G-force on the optic implant, and it quickly escapes the atmosphere. Objects similar to asteroids, planets, stars, nebulas, and then galaxies appear as the implant increases its speed.
Eventually all the implant passes are various gas clouds, which it continues to speed through very quickly, then nothing. Suddenly there are blinding, large flashes of light surrounding the implant. The structure of space around it appears to twist and bend. The humming has transformed into a kind of screaming. Large collections of electrically charged matter, producing light, flash around the implant. It begins to sail past the universe itself.
The space around the implant appears to twist into a three dimensional slice of a six-dimensional Calabi-Yau quintic manifold. The implant enters it.
The implant bumps into the back of itself. A line of it stretches infinitely. Complex, monochromatic prism like images spin around it.
The manifold breaches and begins to high straightaway farrow bridges turning twisting beyond the mesh at the bottom of a long tunnel wherein the light begins and the Dedekind Infinite is dancing at the end of the number line An unmade bed in a distant place sleeping straight up our hidebounded decaying muscles are not our own and we are stacked puppets begging controlled by other puppet and it spirals and spirals and the darkness keeps eating chomp hooray its way up the puppet stack sleeping standing up mI woke and dreamed a thousand million dreams weaving and twisting your way in and out of your skull a thousand monsters screaming wavy thing and there
There is no time there.
we are sailing in deep waters now
be yond the breakers
whose any mystery makes every man’s
flesh put space on;and his mind take off timewhose any mystery makes every man’s
flesh put space on;and his mind take off timewhose any mystery makes every man’s
flesh put space on;and his mind take off timewhose any mystery makes every man’s
flesh put space on;and his mind take off time
Boy: What happened here?
spinning spinning sound boom glorious chant do not be afraid entering love glorious void immense infinite void comforting and terrifying knowledge
no space
Hello, my child
Everything shrinks inwards before
There is a pop noise, and the optic implant falls to the forest floor on the other side of SCP-4012.
Further tests have yielded similar results depending on origin of the subject sent in. Containment procedures have been updated in light of this test. Further information on the varying experiences of those entering SCP-4012 have been logged in Supplemental Document 4012/1. This document's memetic corruption is currently in the process of repair and review. Dr. Raymond Brakstein, acting Command, has posthumously been awarded the Foundation Star.
