Still image from the recovery video of SCP-7885-4.
Item #: SCP-7885
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: All inhabited coastal areas in which funerary interment is practiced are to be monitored for instances of SCP-7885. At-home burial customs are to be dissuaded and/or banned in these areas.
Regular ocean-floor submarine sweeps are to be carried out, according to the schedule specified in Document 7885-A.
A disinformation campaign is to be employed to dismiss reports of SCP-7885 sightings as "sailors' tall tales". Amnestics are to be employed in cases of direct interaction.
All recovered animate SCP-7885 instances are to be transported to Seafloor Site 3, without removal from the ocean during transport. Mobile instances are to be contained within the 5km-radius holding area surrounding Seafloor Site 3. Sessile instances are to be contained adjacent to the site's north airlock.
Each recovered instance is to be interviewed upon recovery via written communication, and interviewed periodically throughout containment. The circumstances of each recovered instance's death and/or burial are to be studied and documented. One week after complete cessation of movement, former SCP-7885 instances are to be cremated, with ashes stored onsite.
Description: SCP-7885 is a collection of animate human corpses which are typically found wandering a complex path along the bottom of the ocean. Instances normally walk continuously at a rate of approximately 4km/h.
Instances disintegrate over time, comparable to non-anomalous postmortem decomposition, though with a somewhat slower overall rate and an absence of gaseous bloating. When instances have sufficiently decayed, walking halts, soon followed by complete cessation of movement. Instances are typically mobile for 2-6 months, followed by a 2-4 week sessile period, after which all movement ends. After movement has ended, SCP-7885 instances are indistinguishable from non-anomalous remains. No medical interventions have been found to extend instances' period of activity. Removal from ocean water rapidly speeds the decomposition process.
SCP-7885 instances are typically self-aware and capable of directed movement, as well as communication via writing and gestures. Instances have been found to retain much of the behavior, personality, and identity that they possessed prior to death, in cases where prior behavior has been ascertained. Instances rarely exhibit significant goal-seeking behavior, beyond ceaselessly walking. Instances report no knowledge of a destination or purpose to this behavior, merely commenting that walking feels right.
If an instance remains mobile and unobstructed for a sufficient duration, it will eventually approach the region of seafloor located at approximately 45-50°S, 120-125°W. In this region, the instance will walk in a wide circle, before finally becoming stationary. The significance of this region is the subject of ongoing investigation.
Current evidence suggests that an SCP-7885 instance is generated when a recently-buried human corpse is washed out into the ocean due to accidental or unforeseen circumstances. Additional causal mechanisms are currently under investigation. Intentional generation of SCP-7885 instances has failed.
Addendum 7885-4: SCP-7885-4 was recovered from the ocean floor at 56.63485°S, 68.64536°W, just south of the Diego Ramírez Islands, the southernmost extreme of South America. SCP-7885-4 was stationary and nearly unresponsive upon recovery, and ceased all movement within days. In life, SCP-7885-4 was Ella Waters, a 22-year-old mother of two, living in Miami, Florida. Records show that she died on ██/██/2023, and was buried soon thereafter in the backyard of an oceanfront house in Miami. Three days later, Hurricane Idalia made landfall within 5km of the burial location. Numerous houses in the area were destroyed, and Waters' remains were lost.
Upon recovery, SCP-7885-4 was holding a 8.9x14cm (3.5x5.5in) waterproof notebook.
Entry 1
I'm floating in the water. It's sunny and hot. I can't see land, I can't see ships. The waves go by and I bob up and down. I woke up next to a swirl of floating junk. Beams and insulation and clothes and plastic. I found this little notepad and pencil in there, so that's nice.
I'm pretty sure I died. I was in the hospital, Miami General. I was coughing and coughing, and I fell asleep. And I woke up here.
I feel like I should be doing something. Should be swimming to land. Should be trying to find someone. Should be trying to live again. Should, should, should.
Nothing hurts anymore. I'm not hungry, I'm not thirsty. When a wave sweeps over me, it doesn't sting my eyes. I don't cough on the water. I don't cough at all. I don't breathe, not unless I try to. So that's all nice. But I'm falling apart a bit. Swimming around in the junk really took it out of me. My skin is hanging loose in a few places. It doesn't hurt either. But I think I'd rather just drift.
Entry 2
Sylvie and I got married right out of high school, the two of us against the world. My parents never liked her much. Marrying too young, she's not a man. She had so many plans for the two of us, and I was along for the ride. We never made enough money to be fully independent. My parents chipped in, especially once the grandkids came along. But I was always torn between what they wanted and what she wanted. I'm glad I'm not going to see my parents again. And Sylvie - I said till death do us part, so I guess that's done. No one to disappoint, no one feeling betrayed. Just floating.
Entry 3
I accidentally swallowed a bunch of water, and I started to sink. I'm on the bottom now. I can't see much, except when the fish swim by. They glow bright blue, I can see right through them. I think they're seeking me out - I'm shedding bits of myself, which they seem to like. It feels good to walk, down here - a slow, steady pace. Nobody around, nowhere to be, nothing to do.
Entry 4
When I came down with my cough, we thought it was allergies at first. But I started coughing up blood, so we rushed to the hospital. Sylvie and my parents were always in the room, and they could never be around each other without arguing.
I was mostly too out of it to care about what they were arguing over, but I think it was usually about me. Whether I should be moved to another hospital. An experimental treatment. More painkillers. Less painkillers. I remember the doctor said something about "MDROs" and "heroic measures", whatever that means. It set off their longest argument yet. I knew I needed to be the one to settle it, to take one side or the other, but I was just too exhausted.
Entry 5
It's simple down here. Easy. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. I don't know how long I've been walking. There are no days down here. No sun, no moon. I don't know where I'm going. I don't think it matters. I write a bit when I can see, when a fish comes by for a snack. I walk. No pressure, no decisions. Simple.
Entry 6
The last day I was alive, all they could talk about was my will. They'd each brought their own versions for me to sign. They read them to me. I couldn't hold my head still to read them. I was coughing too much. It was weird hearing them tell me what was going to happen to me after I was gone. They couldn't even get through reading the wills.
They got into another big argument about what was going to happen to my body once I was gone. Sylvie wanted me buried by our house, my parents wanted me by their house, next to some relatives. I don't know why they all cared so much. I'd been up for a long time at that point, and I could barely think anymore. I think they were still going at it when I fell asleep for the last time.
Entry 7
My legs are coming apart. The joints are swelling and sliding around. My feet are getting all rotated. I don't think I'm really getting anywhere anymore. I wonder where I am. I wonder if I ever got anywhere.
I think I'm going to sit and relax. There are more fish coming by. They're polite - they don't eat anything that's still part of me, they just wait until it floats away. I haven't slept in a long time - I wonder if I still can. Sleep sounds nice.