Subject has declined an additional day of bereavement.
Item Number: SCP-621-EX
Object Class: Explained
Special Containment Procedures: Following research and two therapy sessions with the subject, Dr. Riverson declared SCP-621-EX to be non-anomalous.
Description: SCP-621-EX refers to what was originally considered to be a postmortem cognitohazard concerning the father of Site-203 Junior Researcher Guillaume Humboldt. After returning to work following a three-day period of bereavement, Humboldt's performance and social behavior had noticeably deteriorated. He was recommended for a session with on-site therapist Dr. Lucille Riverson (see Addendum), where he stated to have went to "the funeral of a stranger". Humboldt exhibited acute emotional detachment concerning his father, stating to have felt "nothing" during the funeral. When asked to elaborate, Humboldt initially declined. Subject has declined an additional day of bereavement.
Addendum: Excerpt from the second therapy session between Humboldt and Dr. Riverson.
Riverson: Gill, yesterday you stated that you went to the funeral of a stranger. Does that mean you didn't recognize him?
(silence)
Riverson: Do you remember anything about the funeral? Anything that might have stood out?
Humboldt: I just felt like I was going to the funeral of someone I didn't know. Someone I had never met before. Someone I had no attachment to whatsoever. I felt nothing. Everyone else…wept, cried. I sat there and watched as my aunts, his sisters, both broke down. I had never seen them do that before; they'd always been vibrant people. And my sister was crying. But I could feel nothing.
(silence)
Humboldt: Everyone else was so emotional. Weeping, breaking down. Saying what a good man he had been, how much they loved him. But I was just numb. It was like…I don't mean to keep repeating myself, but it was like going to the funeral of someone you had just seen, passing you by. You look at them for a split second, then go about your day, and then suddenly you're whisked off to their funeral and expected to feel something. But I couldn't. I just sat there.
Riverson: Did you…recognize him?
Humboldt: (sighs) Yes. But I just felt detached.
(silence)
Riverson: How was your relationship with him?
(Humboldt grunts softly.)
Riverson: If you don't want to talk about it, it's all right, but it might help me get to the bottom of this anomaly. That is our job.
(silence)
Riverson: Was he…abusive?
Humboldt: No, just neglectful. When I was growing up, he'd swing by once a week and spend about two or three hours with us — my sister and I. We'd go to a fast food place and maybe hang around a mall or something. Not even to buy something, just to look. That was his idea of parenting. Then he'd drop us off at home and we'd have to wait another week — providing he didn't have some halfhearted excuse to not show up, of course. I mean, he did have his other family to consider.
Riverson: His other family?
Humboldt: My step-family, I guess. I hardly ever saw them, maybe three or four times a year. You know, sometimes he'd call me Gary1. Pretty frequently, actually. He'd just slip. "Gar — uhh, Gill." That really made me uncomfortable.
Riverson: Do you think this may have contributed to your disassociation?
(Humboldt grunts softly.)
Humboldt: There was this one time, on my birthday — this was before I joined the Foundation — I was working, probably the first time I had ever worked on my birthday. I wanted to get myself something special, so I called out to a restaurant for some food and picked it up after work. This was back when I didn't have a car, so I always took the bus. Anyway, I mistimed things a bit and missed the first bus, so I had to wait outside, with my food. This was in December, mind you. I called my dad, asked if he could pick me up, maybe he could have dinner with me. He said it was too inconvenient, out of his way, maybe next time. So I sat waiting in the cold, with my food, for the bus, alone, on my birthday.
Riverson: I'm sorry, Gill.
(Humboldt grunts softly.)
Riverson: Is there any other instance that stands out?
Humboldt: Plenty, but I'll just stick with one. It was when he went on a Mediterranean cruise. For pleasure, not business.
Riverson: By himself?
Humboldt: (shakes his head) Nope. Took his whole family with him.
Riverson: Oh, that's—
Humboldt: His family. Not me or my sister. He didn't even ask me if I wanted to come. I didn't even know about it until after he got back. My sister mentioned it offhand in a conversation. (he pauses and looks at Riverson) Do you know what that's like? Being completely left out of something like that? (scoffs) First-world problems, though, right?
(silence as Humboldt drinks a bottle of water)
Humboldt: So, yeah. It felt like going to the funeral of someone I didn't even know. I felt absolutely nothing. It didn't even register that my father was dead.
Following this therapy session, Riverson researched similar phenomenon in civilians who had lost their parents. After an exhaustive study, she concluded that the phenomenon was consistent with baseline reality.