Special Containment Procedures: SCP-4072 research is under the jurisdiction of the Department of Aquatic Anomalies at CANSHM-Site-184. Major high-debris coastlines subject to prevailing oceanic currents across all continents are to be surveilled for potential sightings of SCP-4072 or its victims. Any recovered victim of SCP-4072 is to be detained and remain in Foundation custody until any cognitive and physiological impairments or injuries are sufficiently treated, all research and investigatory value has been extracted from the subject, and amnestics have been administered.
SCP-4072.
Description: SCP-4072 is a white, three-mast sailboat with no identifying markers, crew, or registration with any maritime agency or government, that is capable of steering autonomously despite lacking the necessary mechanical components. The first known instance in which a victim was returned to shore occurred in early 1981, yet despite SCP-4072's apparent age and longevity of its activities, it remains in pristine condition.
The ship has never been observed docking at a pier, and its location can only be determined from assessments of victims most recently washed up on shorelines. Of the victims who were recovered with intact memory comprehension, all reported being stranded at sea before interaction with SCP-4072.
Though SCP-4072 does not possess a crew, manual tasks such as preparing meals, cleaning, and adjusting the masts are fulfilled when the relevant area on the ship is unobserved. While the ship is not believed to be sentient, its autonomous functions generally demonstrate hospitality towards its passengers.
The passage of time and the congruence of reality distort progressively the longer a person is aboard SCP-4072. This entropic process results in passengers experiencing hysteria, apparent shifts in universal properties, accelerated aging, and often death. The dimensional structure of this process is not yet known.
Discovery: Foundation researchers Dr. Cooper Solano and Dr. Gabriel J Oswald were partaking in an independent five-day aquatic study in the central South Pacific Ocean in French Polynesia, when they were reported as missing in action. After losing radio contact with the researchers, a series of messages was received via Dr. Solano's emergency transmitter.
Log 4072-1
Static permeates for a moment until a connection is reached with Solano's transmitter.
"This is Doctor Cooper Solano, with accompanying Doctor Gabriel Oswald. We are employees of the Secure Coasts Patrolling Group, based at Sierra One-Nine. Our emergency call was expended an hour ago. If a search team is en route, beep twice back. If you received the emergency call and the search team is negative, beep once."
There is a pause.
"A heavy storm hit us in the middle of the night. No warning, no nothing. The weather was clear skies going into the evening."
Solano sighs.
"Our one good flashlight went overboard in the storm, and we had to wait until daybreak to see clearly enough to find our radio. Presently, neither of us knows where in the hell we are, and we've got a hole growing in the bottom of our boat, too."
Another pause. In the background, Oswald can be heard puking into the ocean and then murmuring something to Solano.
"Yeah. Needless to say, this study has gone south. More than half of the stuff we didn't lose is fried, and without GPS and any sense of where we are, I doubt we'll be able to find shore ourselves. We'll need an early retrieval. I'm talking within 24 hours. This study was supposed to be five days: 48 hours of observation with 36 hours of sailing each way. My honey needs me home, so please be quick."
Log 4072-2
"So, it's been about another two days, and I haven’t received anything from you all, nor have I seen a search team. And in case you failed math, two days is 48 hours, which is more than 24, which is when we needed retrieval. I presume either I'm not receiving any messages you're sending back, or you've left us for dead. I pray it's the former."
Solano sighs.
"We have no other means of communication."
There is a pause, and Solano can be heard handing packages to Oswald, who is swearing under his breath.
"As for our dwindling food supply, Gabe has devised a system for us to divvy up our rations. Neither of us is exactly happy about it, but we've got to do what we've got to do. The plan is that we each get two meals a day.
Oswald murmurs to Solano, and he corrects himself.
"One-and-a-half meals a day."
Solano falls silent for a few minutes.
"Our fishing gear seems… beyond repair… to say the least. I’m not sure there's anything we can do once those rations run dry. Again, search team, ASAP. We seem to be much farther out than we previously thought. Like, much, much farther."
Log 4072-3
A loud splash of water is heard.
"This is my third entry, if I'm counting right. I still haven't seen a single boat, nor a helicopter, nor any sign of life whatsoever."
Solano pauses, and Oswald mutters to him.
"Except Gabe, I mean."
Two more splashes are heard.
"I mean, just who do you think you are? You probably have some cushy desk job in some air-conditioned control room on the East Coast or some crap. Shit! Do you have any idea what it's like out here? We're resorting to cleaning seawater with a coffee filter, and we're tossing the fried tech overboard to conserve weight."
Oswald is audible for a minute in the background, before another splash is heard.
"You'd think a trillion-dollar shadow government could maybe afford to waterproof its shit! This is what happens when you cut costs. Tomorrow, Gabe and I are starting on one meal a day. We thought one-and-a-half would last us until we were rescued, but it seems like we'll be out here longer than expected."
Log 4072-5
"Day… four?"
Solano yawns and trails into a groan that lasts an uncomfortable duration.
"The hole in the boat slipped our minds. It didn't exactly stay at the top of our priorities since we placed some towels and a weight over it and taped it all up to keep us afloat, and frankly, we had more important matters to tend to. But the hole just swallowed our fix, so…"
Oswald makes a comment to Solano.
"Gabe needs my help with the hole, so I'll keep this brief. I told him I think we should flip the boat and use it as a raft, but I guess he'd rather drown. And, uh… what else?
Despite his calm demeanor, Solano stammers.
"Most of our research from this trip was lost in the initial storm, so this entire thing might have been in vain. I'm going to be really pissed if this is how I go out. That's about it for right now."
Log 4072-8
"It's been… I'm not sure, but it’s been a while since I last sent a message. The last one I sent, I'd mentioned that we were running low on food, but I think I understated how dire the situation was."
Solano's stammering has become immensely more apparent.
"A lot has happened. The last of our food ran out last week."
Solano's breathing grows heavier, and his voice drops.
"Gabe is dead. I woke up one morning, about a day or two after we polished the last of our rations, and he was just limp. It could've been something he ate, or the water he drank. I don't know."
Solano goes silent before breaking into bursts of shouting.
"Why aren't you here? Why did you kill him? He could have been home! He had a husband and a daughter, you bastards! My goddaughter! Instead, he's… good God. I could have been home, too! Why don't you care? Why did you make me do this?"
Crying is audible as Solano mutters almost incoherently.
"I didn't want… I mean… I wouldn't… God damnit."
Solano is heard hitting the top of the raft in frustration.
"He was already dead anyway. He would've done the same thing if it were me!"
Solano falls back into silence for several minutes, only interrupted by sobs.
"What do you want from me? I wasn't just going to toss him overboard and let him go to waste. This is your fault. It's been weeks. Weeks! And… nothing."
Log 4072-12
"I've never been more disgusted with myself."
Solano takes a deep breath. His voice is scratchy and reserved.
"I want to get in the water. You have no idea how badly I want to get in the water. I've started seeing things that aren't real. This boat has been slowly falling apart, but I keep doubting whether it's actually happening. Once or twice, I've had to reach out and physically feel that parts of the boat are still there, or that Gabe's still there. There's hardly enough left of him to keep me alive much longer."
Silence.
"I've been watching the horizon incessantly, in every direction. What else can I do? There's nothing out here! I don't want to be stuck with my thoughts, or thinking about the smell, or…"
Silence.
"Other boats. I keep hallucinating other boats. They look so real, and I'll stand up and shout at them. I'll wave my arms and scream at the top of my lungs until I can't scream anymore. Then, they'll disappear. I can see one now, far, far in the distance, and tiny, but my throat is too sore to scream. I've been watching it for what feels like an hour. This one looks real, too, but I know it's not. Even as it slowly gets closer."
Silence, interrupted by rough coughing.
"Closer. Closer."
Log 4072-19
"I don't remember much. I remember my heart pounding out of my chest, watching the ship get larger and larger on the water, until I could make out details and tell it as a sailboat of sorts, and it got so close that I could practically reach out and touch it. Then, everything went black."
Solano pauses.
"I don't know where to begin. I woke up lying on the deck of this ship with a pounding in my head. The sky was pitch black, and my body was too weak to move, but my mind was racing too fast for me to go back to sleep, so I just stayed there and watched the sun come up."
Solano's voice chokes up.
"I sort of just stayed there on the ground and waited for the footsteps, the flashlights, and guns, the voice telling me, 'Doctor Solano, you're safe.' It didn't take me long to realize that wasn't going to happen. This isn't one of yours. Some sick fucking joke! In fact, I don't know who the hell it belongs to. I haven't seen a single person so far."
Solano pauses.
"It's the strangest thing. As the sun came up, I couldn't help but notice that I was the most well-rested I have ever been in my entire life. And when I finally worked up the energy to move about, I found a cabin and a hot meal on a plate in front of the doorway. I don't know whose meal I was taking, but I couldn't help it. I was so, so hungry! And it was real food, too! God… it makes me wish I'd gone hungry for just a few more days, then maybe I would be less disgusted with myself."
Silence.
"I spent most of my first day in the cabin. It's empty, it has a bed, and the sun is ungodly hot. I awoke this morning to find another hot meal waiting at the door. Curious, I decided to find whoever else was on board, only to discover that the cockpit, the other cabin, and the hold were all empty. There isn't a single other person on this ship, and I have no clue where the food came from."
Solano stammers for a minute, trying to find the right words.
"It's very possible that I'm dead."
Log 4072-28
"I've begun logging my observations about this ship, and the appearance of the food, especially. I don't know if anyone is listening, but if someone is, you ought to be taking notes. Last night, I kept a watch on the doorway and didn't sleep a wink. The food never showed, so I suppose I'll have to stomach the hunger today."
Solano can be heard standing up and then walking about.
"Sunset to sunrise, I'm going to study the stars, and where they are, where they set, and whatnot. It's really all I can do to try and pinpoint where I am. From what little observation I've done so far, I know I'm still in the Pacific, but that's all I have. This is really all I can do to keep myself busy. If I don't keep my mind active and my senses stimulated, what is there left to convince me that I am still alive?"
Silence.
"I've come too far to die. It's been over a month, at least, but I can hardly keep the time anymore. It kills me to think about how terribly worried my wife must be… assuming you haven't gone through the motions of faking my death. I just want to go home. I've even come up with a mnemonic to remind me what I'm pulling for. It goes… hope, optimism, motivation, and enthusiasm."
Silence.
"I've never been all that religious, but since Gabe and I got stranded, I've been praying regularly. Not to any particular god, and sometimes, not for anything in particular. I only need someone to hear me, and you've all but let me down."
Log 4072-51
"It is getting harder and harder for my brain to process simple things. I've spent days just working out some simple math. A sailboat of this size can travel at about six knots. At a constant speed, that's 144 nautical miles a day. If… if, uh…"
Solano trails off for a minute, attempting to recollect his thoughts.
"Well, if Gabe and I were ready to turn around right before that storm hit, we would have been about a hundred nautical miles north-northeast of the Rangiroa island. Since we were adrift for two or three weeks, and the Southern Equatorial Current would've pushed us westward, I could have been as far as 250 nautical miles from our original point by the time this ship rescued me. Either way, I still would've been within a couple hundred nautical miles of the archipelago."
Silence.
"I've fashioned something of a shiv by sharpening bone from the smoked haddock I ate the other day. I need to write all of this down, so I've been carving it into the cabin's wall. You ought to be writing this down, too. That is, if you're even receiving these. I'm starting to lose my train of thought in the middle of my sentences. I'm doing what I can to keep my voice alive. By that I mean talking to you, mostly."
Log 4072-87
"As a result of weeks of further observation, I have been able to determine the direction this ship is headed. Just after sunset, the bow is in near-perfect alignment with the azimuth of the Cassiopeia constellation. If I remember correctly, that's about 45 degrees, or northeast. What's more, night after night, the ship's heading has oriented relatively toward the same point, so I can only assume it's traveling in a constant direction."
Solano breathes deep, intentional breaths for a moment.
"To better dark-adapt my eyes to find Schedar in the sky night after night, I've been spending my days in my cabin in complete darkness, meditating mostly. Of course, that's given me time to think, which I hate."
Silence. His voice has grown substantially more hoarse.
"I have given up on keeping the time. As soon as I fell asleep in this cabin for the first time, I knew I couldn't trust my count of the days anymore. What's more, there's no point in my keeping tally. The carvings I make on the cabin walls always vanish, and the same with anywhere else on the ship. God knows why. What I do know is that it has been far, far too long. In my meditation, I have begun to hear Gabe's voice, and my wife's… and… and this faint, infantile giggle."
Solano taps his foot nervously against the deck of the ship.
"Visions of them will elude me even. I'll turn a corner and see the back of my love's head disappear behind another, as though she's keeping a few arm's length apart from me. And the truly screwed part? I wouldn't blame her for a second, either. Why do any of the things I've done only to end up here? Alive, but hardly living. Whether they're still hallucinations or a symptom of whatever anomaly I've stumbled upon, I don't know. And for what? Maybe it is God's way of punishing me."
Silence.
"I should've been home by now."
Log 4072-200
"These days, I can only think one thing while looking out over the water. And that is how easy it would be to throw myself in. All of this could be over in a second. The uncertainty, the mundanity… this slow, banal torture… could all just cease in a moment."
Silence, until Solano audibly slams his fist against the railing of the bow.
"I can't. As long as there is a fraction of a fraction of a sliver of a chance that I am still alive, and that I can still get home to my love, and that she's still waiting for me, then I can't give up. But I won't, won't I? I won't get home. God, I just have to remember… hope, optimism, motivation, enthusiasm."
Silence.
"I have run the numbers time and time again, more than I can count. It has been months, at least, and with how fast this ship is sailing, with no change of course or speed, I should have seen land by now. How long can a ship possibly sail straight forward before it has to reach land? At some point, there has to be something."
Solano's voice wheezes for a minute before he goes into a fit of coughing.
"I cannot even cry anymore. No tears come out. How long am I expected to persist through this?"
Log 4072-877
"My love. It's as though I know her now better than ever. All these days, I spent them talking to her and her alone. There is nothing else in the world anymore as far as I am concerned. I'll stare into the water as she talks my ear off for hours on end, and sometimes, I'll see those eyes glisten back at me. The pain in those eyes every time she watches me struggle to remember her name… it kills me. She'll get closer, closer. Every once in a while, I could swear I feel her hand on my cheek."
Silence.
"But every time I bring him up, she leaves. He and I haven't talked in years, and the way we left off, with what happened on the raft… It's the only thing in my heart that truly weighs me down. It is the one thing I'll never forget, and I just need someone to talk about it with. Even my own name escapes me now and again, and if it weren't for her, I'm sure I would have lost it long ago."
Solano lets out a sigh.
"I am sorry that I don't talk to you much anymore. I try to at least once a day. But my voice has gotten so weak, and I try to sing to myself, but there are mornings I can't even get one note. There are mornings when I struggle to get out a sentence or two. It's horrifying having all of these thoughts in my head, but seldom the energy to put them out into the universe."
Silence.
"I want to be at that place again. The place I came from, where my wife is waiting for me. If only I could remember what it was called."
Log 4072-4961
"The energy isn't there any longer. I can still find it in myself to move around and to exercise, but there's nothing left in… here. No drive, no determination. Everything I was fighting for is now a faint spec in the back of my mind."
Solano speaks slowly and deliberately, between long, crackling breaths.
"At some point or another, I'm going to forget the food at my door, or how to eat, or what food even is. Sooner or later, for my own good, I'll have to swear off eating entirely. Why prolong my suffering? I've given up on watching the horizon for the slightest indicator of land nearby. Never another ship, nor aircraft, in all these years and years on the water. No matter how much time seems to pass, there's never any wear… never any tear. I've never seen any corrosion, and every stain I leave is gone by morning, as though nothing I do matters. I've come to the conclusion that whatever world this is, it isn't mine. Or whatever world this is, it doesn't want me."
Silence.
"Hope… optimism…"
Solano pauses to think.
"Motivation… and."
Silence.
Log 4072-20189
Silence.
Then, a splash of water.
Upon receiving the final transmission, the researchers had been declared as missing in action for 32 days. On October 4, 2012, Dr. Cooper Solano's body washed up on a beach in Orange County, California, where he was quickly recovered alive but unconscious by Foundation agents. Immediate assessment found him to be severely malnourished from prolonged, voluntary starvation. The body of Dr. Gabriel J Oswald was never found.
Solano aged by 73 years and seven months over the span of his 32-day disappearance. Additionally, he had developed brain damage and hallucinatory symptoms as a result of isolation. The effects of the drastically decelerated time passage aboard SCP-4072 have not proven to be reversible, even with the usage of anomalous paraphernalia.
