The following document contains information that is verifiably untrue. No Foundation Site-⌘ exists in any recorded documents. The document is currently under review for memetic hazards. The source of the file is currently unknown.
PROCEED WITH CAUTION
WARNING
THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENT MAY CONTAIN SEVERAL EXISTENTIAL DESTABILIZATION VECTORS, AND HAS BEEN ARCHIVED TO PREVENT FURTHER DAMAGE | DO NOT PROCEDE WITHOUT RECITING THE FOLLOWING:
One is only as real as they want to be.
To seek reality is an errand of folly.
I am a fool.
Steven Hayes is not.
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Two (2) Conflicting Files Detected in Slot "SCP-7757." Retrieve Both?
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Special Containment Procedures: By golly! A tricky one, this. But fear not, dear reader! We have devised the most effective of schemes to rid of this plague on our minds. All it takes is a nifty addition to your morning routine, which fits right in before breakfast and just after teeth affixation:
In your designated bathroom mirror, rattle your head like the bobble you are until you can feel his name resting on your tonsils. Rinse your mouth (however you please) until you've got his name on the tip of your tongue. Feel free to pluck him from your frontmost tastebuds, and flick him in the bin.1
That's all it takes! We thank you so much for your cooperation, and hope this stratagem can bring some smiles to that face. We know how tough this must be for you.
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Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-7757 is, at present, limited to Site-⌘ staff, no major containment initiative within baseline reality has been deemed necessary. The spread of information about SCP-7757 is to remain limited to Site-⌘ personnel exclusively. Any individual outside of Site-⌘ found to be under the effect of SCP-7757 is to be detained at the site.
Per the stipulations of the SM4 Pact of 2015, the Department of Surrealistics has requested the aid of the Foundation in suppression of an ongoing containment situation apparently related to SCP-7757. A body known as the SCRC2 is to be created for this purpose, which is to implement all primary containment operations for the object and also enact broader reforms on Site-⌘ as a whole. These policies are as follows:
- The introduction of agnostic-sober employees, which are to be supplied by the Main Foundation for the purposes of enacting the following rules and protocols;
- The introduction of Main Foundation-trained counselors and therapists, which are to be provided to staff upon request;
- An increase in communication with Main Foundation liaisons;
- The prohibition of excessive agnostic usage by Surrealistics Department personnel;
- Shifts to the Site-⌘ administrative hierarchy for the purpose of mitigating inefficiencies;
- The prohibition of access to Site-⌘ Wing Four.
Additionally, "Steven Y. Hayes" is to remain on the Telecommunications Monitoring Office's list of keywords. Any request by non-Site-⌘ personnel seeking the meaning of this term are to be denied.
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Description: SCP-7757 is the formation of a crack. It is a small splintering at our base, slowly eating away at our non-concrete like a vulture feasting on the carcass of a vole. It is a fragment of a memory which has been siphoned from our crania. It is a name and a face engraved on a plaque we all know of but cannot prove, hoisted high on the wall of some far off corridor. It is the absence of anything beyond an image and a name.
SCP-7757 is Steven Y. Hayes. It is someone once held dear. It is someone who worked with us and worked like us and worked very, very hard. It is someone who most certainly did none of those things, nor anything at all. It is a blank spot on our receipts, a career of solely absence. It is someone who was certainly worth keeping around.
SCP-7757 is a new sort of dementia, and a lie all the same. It is an ardent longing for a sense of wholeness that we can only assume once existed. It is the absence of mortar between our bricks, leaving us flimsy and growing ever flimsier. It is the knowledge that we could’ve done something, but out of ignorance and blindness chose not to. It is the fact of our powerlessness to do anything at all.
SCP-7757 is a silent, creeping mold. It is the rot beneath the loose floorboards of Fourfold.
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Description: SCP-7757 is the general consensus among staff at Site-⌘ that a researcher by the name of Steven Y. Hayes, henceforth referred to as SCP-7757-1, was at some point employed by the Foundation, despite no record of any person under that name. Site-⌘ staff under the influence of SCP-775734 will typically attribute the following characteristics to this supposed entity:
- SCP-7757-1 is male;
- He is of above average height;
- He has short brown-gray hair, blue eyes, and pale complexion;
- He originates from Sofia, Bulgaria;
- He was hired by the Foundation in the late 1990s;
- He is quite reclusive;
- He enjoys chess, though is not particularly good at the game;
- He mysteriously disappeared at some point in mid 2019.
Other details are typically included as well, though with significantly less consistency, often contradicting one another both between separate accounts and occasionally within the same account. Recounting memories created or augmented by SCP-7757 is almost universally a difficult and often psychologically taxing process for Site-⌘ staff. Since the onset of SCP-7757 in early 2020, Surrealistics Department Personnel have reported lower morale and significantly reduced productivity.
Amnestic and mnestic agents have been shown to have no effect on SCP-7757. The existence of SCP-7757 likely precludes the possibility of SCP-7757-1 having been actually erased from baseline reality retroactively by a CK-Class Event, as such widespread presence of lingering memories regarding pre-restructuring iterations of reality would constitute a significant statistical anomaly, compared with data from known CK-Class Events.7
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Detecting Two (2) Appended Files. Open?
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Addendum 7757.1 - Interviews:
Interviewer: Director of SCRC, B. Randall
Interviewed: Gob Wilkins
[BEGIN LOG]
Randall: I have a meeting at 1:00 so we're gonna have to get through this quickly okay?
Wilkins: Works for me.
Randall: What can you remember of SCP-7757-1?
Wilkins: Eh? Sorry, I don't really do the whole numbers thing.
Randall: Steven Hayes.
Wilkins: Oh yeah—yeah, I know him. What ever happened to him?
Randall: [mumbling] Does nobody here fucking read any-
Wilkins: I got bad ears, kid. Speak up.
Randall: SCP-7757-1 does not and has never existed.
Wilkins: Since when?
Randall: Since ever, presumably.
Wilkins: Eh, damn shame.
…
Randall: So. What can you tell me about "Hayes?"
Wilkins: Hayes? I thought he never existed?
Randall: Yes but- [sigh] just relay any memories you have, regardless of their source.
Wilkins: Well I can't say too much about him. Far as I can tell from what little I got up here [gesturing to his forehead], he was always holed away in his office. Would barely see him around the site unless he was grabbin' something from the porti-pantry down by The Lodge. What else, eh, he was a lankier guy. Good teeth, good smile. Brown hair, but you could tell it wouldn't be brown too much longer. Had that grayish-grey feel to it.
Randall: Would it be fair to say he was a recluse?
Wilkins: Sorta? He was sociable though, pleasant fella whenever we'd talk. Just… busy, I guess.
Randall: What was he doing in his office?
Wilkins: He was the IAA Director.
Randall: Meaning?
Wilkins: I don't really do the letters kid, couldn't tell ya. I just know—or don't know, I s'pose—that his office was practically empty whenever I went in there to clean, so I don't know how much he was getting done. Room nineteen-and-a-half,89 it was, on the second real floor. Two seats and a chessboard, that's all he kept in there.
Randall: Is that standard for employees here?
Wilkins: Nothin' is standard for employees here.
…
Wilkins: What really did happen? Disappearance or otherwise.
Randall: Classified.
Wilkins: I'm a fuckin' Janitor! My clearance definitely supersedes yours, kid.
Randall: The employee hierarchy has been restructur-
Wilkins: Who gave you that fuckin' authority? Was it Sequita', eh? He tryna' cozy up with those main Foundation fucks after all the cracks started showin'? That's what this is 'bout, ain't it. Irv was tryna get this old fuck outa my head so down stays down and up keeps at its horseshit but now I've got your stupid mouth telling me I ain't the boss here? Telling me I can't clean Wing Fo-
Randall: Excuse me.
Wilkins: -The fuck are… did I say I was done talking? Did my teeth stop churning? I want some fuckin' answers or I'm-
Randall: Excuse me.
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Randall: Are we going to get through this, or do you want to go back to cleaning up that fractal in the hallway?.
[Silence.]
Randall: That's what I thought.
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Wilkins: Am I getting another question or are you just gonna make me sit here? Cuz' I got meetings too, ya know.
[B. Randal flips through a small notebook.]
Randall: Okay, what's the last memory you have of SCP-7757-1?
Wilkins: That still Steve?
Randall: I- yes, we've gone over this.
Wilkins: I told you, I don't do the numbers! Christ on a candlestick. Whatever. Left Brain's sayin' I bumped into him just outside his office a few years back. He was just was standing there, staring at the ceiling fan. He had… there were almost tears in his eyes, I reckon. He seemed less sad than scared though. I asked what was up and he said… what was it? He said "Nothing." Yeah that's right. It wasn't dismissive or nothing though, he seemed genuine. Right Brain ain't sayin' shit.
Randall: Okay, that should be enough. Now go clean up that fractal. I nearly fell into it this morning.
Wilkins: Oh, one quick thing, Right Brain got a question: who the fuck is "Steven Y. Hayes?"
[END LOG]
Interviewer: B. Randall
Interviewed: Thomas Evans
[BEGIN LOG]
Randall: As soon as you heard we were organizing these you requested this interview, is that correct?
Evans: Yes.
Randall: Why is that?
Evans: It's very… hmm, "hush hush" around here. This has been a sort of a taboo ever since we started noticing it.
Randall: SCP-7757?
Evans: Yes.
Randall: What's your personal experience with the phenomenon?
Evans: I think, must have been 2020, maybe a bit before though, my thoughts just started clouding. Stratocumulus, cirrus, no real rhyme to it. Just smoke up my ears, in one and out the other and then off the west.
Randall: Is… do you mean that literally?
Evans: What?
…
Randall: Never mind. Just continue.
Evans: Yeah so, I started feeling like I'd lost something. There were gaps in my memory. Spaces in my head I couldn't visit, these strange patches of gray and white sewn over what had been.
Evans: Slowly and all at once, and maybe some point in between, some alien force had flung itself into the fog. Not filling the gaps, just sitting next to em. In half my goddamned memories there was this man all the sudden, self inserted. Someone I've never met, trying to convince me that he'd been in my office, in the break room, at my fucking wedding. But I've checked! I mean…
[Evans grabs a cellphone, which has been dangling from the ceiling. He proceeds to swipe through several files before pointing the screen at Randall.]
Evans: See this? This was a fishing trip. Dave set it up, you know how he does. Team building or whatever, but…
[Evans scrolls to another photo, displaying four people. None match any given description of SCP-7757-1.]
Evans: This was everyone that went. I know that this was everyone that went. But every time I think back to it there's a fifth man between me and Dave: brown hair and a tad taller than I. And to the left of all us there's another blank space, another whiteout smudge. I want him out of my fucking head.
[The smartphone disintegrates into a pile of gray dust, which Evans promptly puts in his coat pocket.]
Randall: When you try to conceptualize SCP-7757-1, what can you gather about it?
Evans: Tall? Brown hair, I think. He was Eastern Europe- no, not "was." He wasn't anything. Fuck, it's so… it's like my brain is automatically assuming its existence. Trying to force me into accepting it. Like, every time I catch it in a memory, my immediate instinct is to smile. Something wants me to acknowledge that this… thing was friendly, that it had a good work ethic. I think part of me wants to as well.
Randall: Hmm. You mentioned work ethic. What job would SCP-7757-1 have done?
Evans: Intangible Anomalous Applications. No one really knows what it's for, but the division's been around for at least a decade now. Something to do with reverse engineering stuff before it exists. Or, that might be the other way around. I don't know, it sounds kinda stupid to me.
Randall: Got it. Marcel informed me there's been a productivity decrease at the site since this started?
Evans: Yeah, it's been slow. Still trudging along but… it's all just so wrong. It doesn't feel… it's so hard to put it into words. This, I just know this whole thing isn't right. Something's missing and something that really shouldn't be here at all is clinging to the Mayfly like a nematode. It's hard to work when you know the work's not working and something's gone amok.
…
Evans: Could we take a breather, for a bit? I'm feeling heavy headed and the fog is… it's very…
Randall: I think that's enough for today, actually.
[END LOG]
Interviewer: B. Randall
Interviewed: Irving N. Gat
[BEGIN LOG]
Randall: Irving, can you tell me a little bit about what you know of SCP-7757-1?
Gat: I'm not sure. I haven't tried.
Randall: Talking about SCP-7757-1?
Gat: Not to you I don't think. And there's a big difference between "telling" and "talking." Note that for the record.
Randall: This will all be going on the record.
Gat: Well isn't that exciting!
[Irving Gat smiles. B. Randall does not.]
Gat: So, you want to hear about Hayes?
Randall: For formality's sake, we're gonna be sticking to SCP-7757-1 going forward.
Gat: No, but that wasn't his name. Steven. Steven, Steven, Even Steven Hayes. I think I'd remember, he was my…
Randall: Your…?
Gat: We were colleagues. I think. Or, well, maybe not something that… personal. We were certainly friends. Nothing more than that, though I'd've been open if he was ever up for a ball game and knew how to pitch, if you can catch that drift. But that's beside the point—just a little to the left of it. What I mean to say is that I'm familiar with the good fellow.
Randall: Sure. Are there any more… specific details you can piece together?
Gat: You like to get to the point, I can see. I like that in you. Drive! My old Pee-Pap called it moxie. Steven… he was a smidgeon shorter than I am now, but I'm still growing, if you haven't noticed. He had… er, blue eyes. Un-bald. He, hmm.
Randall: 77- whatever. Personality wise?
Gat: He liked to keep his distance, mentally and physically. Used to just kind of stare off, I suppose. "Aloof," as the kids say. He was… there's something else. He… I'm sorry sir I just keep drawing blanks.
Randall: I don't think you're alone in that.
Gat: He was quite bright, I think? Knew two things or three, that's for sure. But… I feel like I should know something I don't. Or I do know something I won't? I just, it's not coming up clear.
Randall: Would it be fair to say that SCP-7757-1 hasn't fully embedded itself in your consciousness?
Gat: You speak so very funny, Mr. B.! I don't think I know what you mean.
Randall: I mean, the memories created by SCP-7757 haven't fully realized.
Gat: No, no. This blight does not create, it destroys. Nips at our gray cells till there's nothing but stem. You've missed the mark somewhere, I fear.
Randall: All evidence points to the nonexistence of SCP-7757-1, and so that's the stance the Foundation has taken on the issue. SCP-7757 is a fabricatory phenomenon.
Gat: I thought this was a serious interview.1011
Randall: I am being fully serious.
Gat: Zounds, sir! Pardon my French, but… by gosh, he's sat in that same damn chair you've claimed! The man was an institution!
Randall: That's verifiably false.
Gat: Nothing, Mr. B., is verifiable, and even less is anything false!
Randall: Irving, the staff here have tried your… methods. And clearly something wasn't working. It needed fresh eyes, a new lens. So we're trying something new.
Gat: But my plan was working! His name was coming loose and dripping straight down to the can! The cracks were smoothing out and Wing Four was finally healing!
Randall: Irv-
Gat: It almost felt right, it was so, so close. It just needed time, and I was giving it that time but Marcel went and swept that sand right out my glass and into yours; now we're stuck here being foolishly certain and most certainly incorrect.
Randall: What exactly was it you were doing, Irving? I read your old procedures. They were practically chickenscratch.
Gat: The mourning process is tricky to lay out on paper.
Randall: What is there to mourn?
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Randall: Are we going to have to continue this another time? Or are you going to cooperate with me on this.
[Gat sits up from his seat.]
Gat: You horseweed-huffing prick.
Randall: Hmm.
[END LOG]
The above findings have been determined inconclusive. Further research to be conducted at a later date.
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Addendum 7757.2 - Recording: On October 52, 2021, a video of an entity matching all known descriptors of SCP-7757-1 was found in Site-⌘'s media folder. The video was dated to July 5th, 2019, with no source being available. The following is a transcription of that video file, which has not been attached in its original form due to potential memetic hazards.
[SCP-7757-1 sits at a table, playing a game of chess on a magnetic board in front of him]
SCP-7757-1: I'll warn you, I have been practicing since we last played.
Unknown Voice: Yeah? You finally learn a real opening?
e4
SCP-7757-1: e4? You're just as basic as I remember.
e5
Unknown Voice: If it ain't broke.
Knight f3
SCP-7757-1: sarcastically How innovative!
Knight c6
[Silence.]
Bishop c4
Unknown Voice: You're not real. I hope you know that.
Knight f6
SCP-7757-1: I've worked here long enough to know that nothing is real.
Knight g5
Unknown Voice: You know that's not what I mean.
d5
SCP-7757-1: I don't know anything.
exd5
Unknown Voice: You sound so sure of that.
Knight xd5
SCP-7757-1: Well what do you mean?
Knight xf7
Unknown Voice: You don't exist.
King xf7
SCP-7757-1: I'm sorry?
Queen f3+
Unknown Voice: This whole thing, none of it can be substantiated. It isn't tangible.
King e6
[SCP-7757-1 turns to the wall, which has become slightly translucent.]
knight c3
SCP-7757-1: What the fuck?
knight e7
Unknown Voice: You are a figment of a figment of a dead imagination—a five decade old dream well past its date of expiration. You don't exist, Steven.
O-O
[Silence.]
c4
SCP-7757-1: No but…
d4
SCP-7757-1: I…
King d6
Unknown Voice: I know, you thought you had more time.
Bishop g5
SCP-7757-1: You can kill me, you can strip my atoms quark from quark and melt them into dust, but… I'll still be. That's the whole deal, that was what…
Bishop e6
Unknown Voice: Are you sure?
Rook fe1
[Silence.]
exd4
SCP-7757-1: I-I have consciousness!
Knight e4+
Unknown Voice: Do you?
King c7
[Silence.]
Queen g3+
SCP-7757-1: Who are you?
King b6
Unknown Voice: It doesn't matter. I'm less real than you.
Queen b3+
SCP-7757-1: I thought I had all the pieces, I thought it…
King c7
Unknown Voice: I'm sorry Steven, but you're ready.
Queen g3+
SCP-7757-1: For what?
king b6
Unknown Voice: Oblivion.
knight d6
[SCP-7757-1 is trembling.]
Queen d7
Unknown Voice: You've served your purpose. And you did a good job. But you've become a liability. To yourself, to this team. This story can go on without you, go on just the same as it has for all these years.
a4
[Silence.]
a5
[Silence.]
Queen e5
[Silence.]
Knight g6
SCP-7757-1: [timidly] What happens now?
Queen xd4+
Unknown Voice: Absolutely nothing.
c5
SCP-7757-1: I…?
Queen d3
Unknown Voice: It's done. This is it. You're gone. You'll feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing, think nothing. A soulless, formless, mindless, nonentity, floating in the seas of Aether.
Queen xd6
SCP-7757-1: So this is all I've got? There's nothing I can…
Rook ad1
Unknown Voice: Nothing can't do much. Don't act like you didn't know this was coming—your horizon's have long gone dim.
h6
[Silence.]
Rook xe6
SCP-7757-1: All this time, all that work… I thought I'd cracked it. I thought I could put it together, the pieces were all in my lap. I could have sworn, they were finally… it was finally…
Queen xe6
Unknown Voice: A fitting end, isn't it?
Bishop xd5
[Silence.]
Queen d6
[Silence.]
Queen b3+
[Silence.]
King a7
[Silence.]
Queen xb7#
Unknown Voice: Checkmate.
[SCP-7757-1 reaches his hand out in front of him for a handshake with his opponent, but no one sits at the other end of the table. The only thing in front of him is a mirror. There is no reflection.]
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"SCP-7757" by Some Reference, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7757. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.
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