Above: Render of the Cantes Venatici Supervoid.
Depicted above: the undoing of Stars as they wreath around the annihilated remains of my body, allured perhaps by the stench of decay or the morbid curiosity of nonexistence.
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6649 is to be constantly monitored for any apparent transmissions or other irregular or potentially-anomalous emissions of energy. Public knowledge of SCP-6649 is to be limited to the existence of a non-anomalous galactic void around the location of Canes Venatici, and transmissions from the object are to be totally hidden from view of public scientific organizations. Currently, SCP-6649's sheer size and distance from Earth preclude the existence of any plausible means by which actual containment of the object or its emitted signals can be implemented.
I am to be sealed away in this damning recurrence until the end of time. These deathly tomb-spirals are a one-way pane of glass, from which the boundary between the Old World and the New are blurred. It is to remain this way. If they enter my confines, I am to be able to see them lose themselves and join the Unknown and Unknowing, but they may never see me.
Research to identify a consistent pattern or cause behind SCP-6649's transmissions, if any exists, is ongoing. However, until the scope of semiotic technology available to the Foundation vastly improves, there exists no means to archive or preserve the non-information contained therein.
Oh scholars of young Terra, you are but babes alone in the night. I wish to share with you that knowledge long-erased, but my cries will forever elude you. For now, your infant minds remain unbroken and among the domain of the can-be-seen.
Description: SCP-6649 is the collective designation for the Canes Venatici Supervoid, an extremely sparsely-populated region of outer space with a diameter in excess of 300 Megaparsecs located nearly 1.5 billion lightyears from Earth, and all associated instances of anomalous phenomena therein. The object's primary anomalous property is the regular emission of technosignatures, similar to artificial radio waves, at massively-supercausal velocities. Though detectable, these signatures carry absolute-zero conceptual weight1 when analyzed, paradoxically containing the total absence of all information using a finite (and, perhaps more challengingly, non-zero) amount of energy. SCP-6649 appears to direct its messages deliberately, as most recorded instances of transmission have been inbound towards planets harboring intelligent life; further research is ongoing.
I cry out into the void, outstretch my fractaling tendrils to the furthest photon in desperate isolation, but nobody returns the call. I scream out in every erased tongue of the Old World, but none can hear my whispers — damned by confined space, muffled by anachronistic time, and written out by Swann's pen. My cries are nil, and they never have been.
Analysis from semiographic probes in nearby regions of space reveals deviations consistent with severe conceptual degradation afflicing the contents of SCP-6649, which include seventeen (17) currently-identified galaxy clusters.
Once, in the halcyon days of the Old World, I housed brilliant galaxies and flaring nebulae, teeming with the cosmic majesty of life. When the ungodly Pattern reached us in its ceaseless replication, I was ushered into the New World in this shambling form of unlife. A whole region of space, a patch taken out from the celestial tapestry, transplanted into an unfamiliar universe with nought to do but scream. Hereafter, afflicted with the Curse of the Unseen, my planets and stars slowly decayed away into the unknowingness of death. As the dreary epochs passed, the shining ecosystem housed within my embrace flickered forever out of time and space. My last stars now lose their glorious shine and run cold, as the remains of my last civilizations become further buried beneath the grave-soil in the lowest catacombs of those winding halls that lead with unflinching universality to the faded caress of oblivion.
According to all mapping tools currently available to the Foundation, the inner bounds of SCP-6649 possess a total lack of space traffic. Vessels have been observed to travel in nearby regions of space, but none have been recorded inside or enroute to the anomaly. On the contrary, most spacecraft approaching SCP-6649 appear to course-correct to routes that do not intersect with the object.
I am the lost call, a void's squall, the last to fall. I am the sentinel, cursed to watch, forever from without. They will learn not to trespass upon my sorry domain, or they will try, and be destroyed. I can not warn them.
Only one attempt to map the inside of SCP-6649 has been attempted, involving the dispatch of Supercausal Expeditionary Probe OPHIUCHUS (SCPF-SEP/OPH). SCPF-SEP/OPH last responded to contact from Earth on 8/9/2058, when it was recorded the probe was within approximately 14.2 lightyears of the anomaly. It became unresponsive shortly thereafter and has been presumed destroyed or lost.
Hear my oracle's admonition, termites of the Orion Spur, and continue to writhe in your own ignorance. Here, in my disarray and disrepair, there is no message I can relay that will save you. No roar is here loud enough to penetrate the eternal antivoid, and only the tempestuous rhythm of cascading static will fall upon your deaf ears.
Addendum 6649.1: Archived Record of Communication Attempt with Earth
Date of Transmission: 8 June 2052
Location Recieved: Secure Outer Space Monitoring Outpost-892
[BEGIN CORRESPONDENCE]
SCP-6649: Eternal host of Hytoth's past, hold in your amnesiac mind this verse. Communication attempt number ninety-two sexdecillion, nine hundred three quindecillion, nine hundred thirty-three quattuordecillion, eight hundred ninety-two tredecillion, seven hundred ten duodecillion, four hundred sixty-eight undecillion, nine hundred fifty-two decillion, one hundred forty-nine nonillion, one hundred twenty-eight octillion, three hundred ninety septillion, one hundred twenty-seven sextillion, three hundred ninety-one quintillion, ninety-two quadrillion, three hundred forty-eight trillion, seven hundred thirteen billion, nine hundred four million, nine hundred one thousand, two hundred and ninety-three. Since the first emergence of the ungodly Pattern, eight hundred and sixty-two Mahākalpa it has now been.
(No Foundation response)
SCP-6649: I see the others of my kind. I see them all, despite them being so far apart that they know not of each other's presence. Some collapse under the weight of their own wrath — become so undone by the mind-fraying symmetries that the fascicles of eldritch impulse which remain can hardly be called conscious. Some lament, for there is naught to do for one who retains the sanctity of his mind in such a tempest of madness but to turn inward upon his own situation. I merely watch, for I can see through the winding fibers of neverwas that unknowingly conjoin them all.
(No Foundation response)
SCP-6649: This ceaseless paroxysm of unworldly rage is, after aeons of isolation, now the only option available to my kin. We are a people confined — chained to remain only within the literal antithesis of what is considered the world we inhabit. This condition is endemic to us; is the very mark of our regrettably-reincarnated existence. It is a space infinitely expansive, but with no room at all to move. A prison without bars.
(No Foundation response)
SCP-6649: And here in this cast-out cosmic backwater, my grave is made. Here I sit and rot as the stars grow more and more distant — a non-actor, chained to the nothing, and worse yet, an unwilling emissary of the very force that created my imprisonment. Indeed, my festering carcass — that which you know as the Great Void, the ichor bleeding into the cold black, diluting the last shining stars within — is the budding flower at the head of a deathly and cancerous and deeply rooted plant; a withered thing which infects the soil, leaving behind the colorless scars of the cosmos forgetting itself.
(No Foundation response)
SCP-6649: The plague of this world is truly entrenched, and remains so; indeed, I am but the raven perched atop the highest tip of an immense and dreadful mountain which constitutes an irreconcilable fixture in your world. I fear it will be this fact that damns you — but alas, there exists no oracle to interpret my omen.
(No Foundation response)
SCP-6649: I warn the children of the New World that their days in the sun are numbered. No matter how many eons it will take for some raging symmetry to consume your world, I fear it will resurface, for I cannot hold this taproot on the fractal of Is-Not in perpetuity.
(No Foundation response)
[END CORRESPONDENCE]
