ADMONITION: Intermission II
INTERMISSION:
DEPARTMENTALIZED
NOTIONAL DIVISIONS
SUBVERTING CORPORATE PREDATION
This document exists in its unmodified, original state as part of an ongoing investigation.
If you would like to request a copy of this record (ID #08-8190-24), please complete form SR-01 and submit it for review of the Site-19 Department of Notional Divisions' current Director of Operations.
| TICKET#: | SEVERITY: | SUBMITTED BY: |
|---|---|---|
| 9059281 | LOW | M. NORWOOD |
Hi. It's Marisa again. Just submitting a ticket about that odd ETTRA message popping up every time I try to access the documentation for SCP-8190. Not sure what the issue is; I've been containment director of Site-19 for over 20 years and this is the first time anybody has told me to manually submit an access request, let alone in hardcopy. Normally, I'd just assume L5 classification and forget about it, but there is no listed clearance level and I see no records of an ETTRA investigation into this designation on my end. I'm pretty sure I've never heard of a Department of Notional Divisions, either.
Curious if this is some sort of bug or if I'm just out of the loop, so please send me a SR-01 request sheet at your earliest convenience. And check the Department directory you have to see if you can get me the contact info for the current head of Notional Divisions. I'm guessing it's some sort of recent internal restructuring, the Council has been doing a lot of that lately.
| TICKET#: | SEVERITY: | SUBMITTED BY: |
|---|---|---|
| 9059553 | MODERATE | M. NORWOOD |
Um, okay, still haven't received the SR-01 I requested and still cannot access the file for SCP-8190. I confirmed there is no clearance restriction, yet I can't seem to bypass this splash screen. Moreover, your response times are abysmal. Need I remind you these tickets have 48-hour windows before they auto-close due to inactivity. Please update it or assign it to someone before then, you have just about 18 hours left.
Also, I forgot to include this in my last ticket but the ACS Classifications for the anomaly are currently visible to everyone. That isn't normal, right? Why would ETTRA lock the contents of the file aside from classification? It's not really a big deal; there isn't much to learn from it anyway aside from Radix and some other esoteric class, Simulacra? I had to go look them up, and there was nothing in the classifications guide about the latter.
| TICKET#: | SEVERITY: | SUBMITTED BY: |
|---|---|---|
| 9060171 | HIGH | M. NORWOOD |
I've heard from a few colleagues dealing with computer troubles that apparently their tickets have been going unanswered for some time now. Conceptual has been completely without SCiPNET access for two weeks. What gives? Are you guys just that backlogged? Are you making a point about user error or personal accountability, because people can't google how to fix their things if their laptops won't connect to the remote network in the first place. Get off your asses and bring some toner cartridges, I know about a dozen printers that need servicing. If there is an issue with our email filters or mailing groups, I want to know, and you can reach me at ext. 31843 at any time.
Figured AIMS would be giving you guys more downtime after the migration but I guess not. This situation is a fiasco, so whatever you're dealing with must be pretty bad to not even acknowledge we exist.
My original ticket has expired, by the way. You probably knew that but it felt like a good idea to acknowledge it in case anyone comes down on me about how nothing seems to be functioning like it should.
| TICKET#: | SEVERITY: | SUBMITTED BY: |
|---|---|---|
| 9060564 | HIGH | M. NORWOOD |
Went and spoke to Director Roark about this communication problem and he told me to keep a timeline of events and to continue submitting tickets as issues develop, so if you're wondering why I haven't given up yet, it's because I don't have the option.
Don't worry about the SR-01; it took me some time but I managed to dig one up from the archive. We haven't needed to use these in 40-odd years, it even has a space for an inkpad stamp. Made me rather nostalgic.
I filled out the form and everything, but without knowing where to bring the thing, it's just going to take up space on my desk. It would be great if someone from IT could point me in the right direction; all the directories I can find are outdated.
TO: mnorwood@scip.net
FROM: dirafdond@scip.netMarisa,
Thank you for your interest in SCP-8190. We have received the required SR-01 form. Thank you for following standard protocol as described within Foundation guidelines. Your request is currently being processed. We will contact you when this is no longer the case.
Regards,
DIR. FRITZ
DEPARTMENT OF NOTIONAL DIVISIONS
| TICKET#: | SEVERITY: | SUBMITTED BY: |
|---|---|---|
| 9061267 | LOW | M. NORWOOD |
Did one of you pop by my office to pick up that SR-01?
You guys are the only people I mentioned Notional Divisions to, but I just got an email last night saying that they received the form? I'm back in my office this morning and it's definitely gone.
I know it's a step in the right direction, but I just realized there was no digital copy in the archive. I couldn't make a photocopy because the printer was down, and then I forgot entirely, so… I might have just used the last SR-01 in Foundation possession. Whoops.
TO: dirafdond@scip.net
FROM: mnorwood@scip.netGood afternoon!
Are you Director of the Department of Notional Divisions? I can't find you anywhere in our building directory. I saw your entry on the company-wide glossary of Departments, but I really don't understand what it is you guys do, exactly? The IT Department was no help either, although they haven't been much help at all lately, if I'm being honest.
I would like to update my directories and contact info, as it is required for all departments to do so, yours included. Plus, it makes it easier to communicate with each other. :)
Thanks,
Dr. Marisa Norwood
Containment Director, Site-19
TO: dirafdond@scip.net
FROM: mnorwood@scip.net
hello?
TO: mnorwood@scip.net
FROM: dirafdond@scip.netMarisa,
Thank you for your patience as we reviewed your documentation. You'll be pleased to hear your request has been authorized in accordance with Foundation guidelines. Note that our department does not choose who is approved or denied. We only act as an intermediary.
Attached is a photocopy of the approval for your records. Apologies in advance, the document was inadvertently mistaken for refuse. The misunderstanding has been rectified.
Sorry to hear about your technical difficulties. I recommend reaching out to technical support; I'll append their contact info to this email for your use.
Goodbye,
DIR. FRITZ
DEPARTMENT OF NOTIONAL DIVISIONS
ACCESS GRANTED
| ASSIGNED DEPARTMENTS | PROJECT LEADS |
|---|---|
| Notional Divisions | Dir. Ruaidhri Quade |
| ASSIGNED SITES | RESEARCH HEADS |
| Site-19 | Dir. Ruaidhri Quade |
SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: Site-19's Automated Intelligent Management System (AIMS) has tasked the following departments with investigation into SCP-8190 phenomena:
- The Department of Notional Divisions is assigned to SCP-8190-A;
- The Department of Asset Acquisitions and Accountability is assigned to SCP-8190-B;
- The Department of Cartography is assigned to SCP-8190-C;
- The Department of Internal Investigations is assigned to SCP-8190-D;
The Department of Notional Divisions has assigned itself a top priority directive: Identifying and understanding the nature of SCP-8190-Prime..[QUERY:DENIED]
No further actions or guidance will be provided. Information that may be of use to the Administration must be immediately relinquished to the project's Directing body. The individuals providing this information are to submit for involuntary amnestization before returning to normal duties.
The following departments have restricted or modified access credentials for SCP-8190 and all related documentation:
| DEPARTMENT | STATUS |
|---|---|
| Department of Tactical Theology | RECUSED |
| Department of Procurement and Liquidation | RECUSED |
| Department of Cartography | LIMITED |
| Decommissioning Department | UNDER INVESTIGATION DECOMMISSIONED |
| Department of Logistics | RECUSED |
| RAISA Department | LIMITED |
| Department of Miscommunications | RECUSED |
| Department of Nonexistence | LIMITED |
| Department of Internal Investigations | LIMITED |
| Department of Deletions | UNDER INV▄▜▜▆GATION |
| Temporal Anomalies Department | RECUSED |
| Department of Municipalities | LIMITED |
| Department of Asset Acquisitions and Accountability | LIMITED |
| Department of Notional Divisions | PASSEPARTOUT |
This information is subject to change on a regular basis and thus may or may not be accurate at this time. If you and/or your department would like to access this file, please complete form SR-01 and submit it to the current head of the Department of Notional Divisions.
DESCRIPTION: SCP-8190 is the collective designation for a number of bureaucratohazardous effects potentially impacting all systems of administrative management within Site-19's employee hierarchy and core functions. SCP-8190 appears to correlate directly with certain sections of the Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition, from which the rise of related semiohazardous qualities were first noted having spontaneously manifested around Class-C personnel and employee of interest James A. Harkness, also referred to as PoI-8190.
Instance of the First Edition Handbook.
One physical copy of the first edition handbook is still in existence, held in a locked glass display case located within the Site-19 atrium, featuring a commemorative plaque celebrating the Foundation's progress as an organization dedicated to the maintenance of the Veil. At time of the handbook's printing, Foundation collective infrastructure represented about 0.4% of what it does today, with employees stationed at less than twenty secure facilities worldwide.
Following the development of novel detection systems for anomalous phenomena, the remaining handbook was analyzed, revealing larger-than-average Akiva radiation emissions. No other anomalous properties have been detected, and Akiva radiation levels have not changed since initial measurements were taken.
Although Foundation records indicate PoI-8190 was employed by the Organization for almost three decades,.Plurality of which was spent from within network security, other infotech-related departments, and in brief stints as interim staff—owed in part to a notably high cognitive resistance threshold. specific details regarding his employment history are missing from the database. This discrepancy was not detected until his recovery, which prompted an internal investigation into the AIMS Consensus System that was ultimately futile..The AIMS Consensus System is a handshake-based confirmation network used to prevent data loss and manipulation by forcing revisions to archives that do not match the rest of the network. Established in 2025.
Recovered materials and post-action interviews with Harkness imply that SCP-8190 primarily impacts the original code of employee conduct, though more recent evidence suggests the entirety of the guidebook may be susceptible. Affected individuals are unable to deviate from the guidelines discussed in relevant sections and will experience retroactive changes in reality that ensure this is the case. In the rare event such retroactive changes are not possible, affected employees will vanish, a facsimile construct filling the role of the lost employee shortly thereafter. Constructs are capable of emulating human behavior and completing most duties required.
Other impacted statements or sentiments include the necessity of coffee in the break room, certain members of the administration being unable to close the doors to their office, and the spontaneous appearance of employee group photos despite none being taken.
Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition
Employee Guidelines: The Basics
On your first day as Foundation personnel, it's important that you familiarize yourself with the way our organization is, well, organized! Everything from contacting your supervisor to ordering tests, performing said tests and disposing of waste materials—they all have procedures to follow! Not only that, but they all have hardworking people, just like yourself, behind the scenes. It is integral that we all do our part, and that includes knowing when to pass the baton on to the next person. This keeps your secure site moving smoothly like a well-oiled machine!
The FOUNDATION EMPLOYEE AXIOMS are an effective means to remind everyone of the roles they play in our workplace, with hope that THE FOUNDER's guiding light shines through us, even in the dark:
▪︎ All employees have purpose. They are the foundation of the Foundation
▪︎ All employees report from an assigned Secure Facility
▪︎ Each Secure Facility has a Site Director
▪︎ Each Department has a Director of Operations
▪︎ Every onsite employee is assigned a Department
▪︎ Every employee has a voice and a right to be heard.Replaced in Second Edition with "Every employee has a right to an appeals process" before being completely removed in Fourth Edition.
▪︎ Every employee does their part, allowing others to do the same
▪︎ Employees will behave in a manner becoming of them, or they will be replaced
Now, you might be thinking, "This is great, but how do I clock out for lunch?" Luckily, we're covering our punch clock system in the next section…
Did you know?
Look for Sammy Skipper to find helpful tips and information throughout this book. Sammy knows more than you might think!
The breadth of SCP-8190's effect, the status of PoI-8190, and, subsequently, any other hypothetically-affected employees were ultimately lost for an indeterminate amount of time; PoI-8190 was discovered accidentally, found working within SCP-8190-A some fourteen years after the last time his ID badge had been used. PoI-8190 has not outwardly aged during his time inside the anomaly, which was discovered by Notional Divisions agents during a routine structural analysis of Site-19.
SCP-8190-A is an extradimensional space resembling a rectangular borehole, located beneath the substructure of Site-19. Access to SCP-8190-A is only possible when passing through the floor of the Site-19 atrium and adjacent rooms, which lead to a sheer drop with bare concrete walls, roughly 150 meters in depth. A nondescript staircase then can be found along the outer perimeter, with each landing containing an identical corner office along its descent. This office is designated the "Department of Redundancy Department".
At the time of discovery, PoI-8190 was observed staffing the office on all floors.
Substructural Ground-Penetrating Radar model of SCP-8190-A.
Upon entering the offices, personnel discovered PoI-8190 filing paperwork in an identical fashion at each landing. Despite the conditions, he appeared disinterested and preoccupied, unable to respond or otherwise react to the presence of others between receiving, signing, stamping, and depositing documents, which arrived via a pneumatic tube aside his desk and continued downward through the floor. As personnel descended further down the staircase, the offices were seen growing more recursive, leading to increased travel times, odd variations in layout, and redundant repetition of phrases..Doors of the bottom floor were observed to read "Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, Department of Redundancy Department, Recursive Division, […] Site-19".
Upon reaching the bottom, personnel discovered a tessellation of the previously-described office staffed by many copies of PoI-8190, all of whom were working on large volumes of similar paperwork in a persistent loop. As the staircase continued downward,.Despite reaching the bottom floor, it was still possible to descend the stairs, suggesting SCP-8190-A's extradimensional nature was also recursive. the matter of the space became metastable, unable to retain its form as it shifted between a variety of objects and structures upon contact.
Personnel were not able to safely proceed further into the anomaly at this point and were recalled. Further attempts to communicate with PoI-8190 or request an extraction team have not been attempted. It is unknown which Harkness is the original instance, or if an original exists at all. Members of the Department of Notional Divisions are, however, able to observe the infinite recurrence of PoI-8190 and the infinite confluence of paperwork he provides.
A hatch is to be installed in Janitorial Supply Room 0-3A, disguised as a sewer maintenance access panel, in the event further communications or interventions prove necessary.
UPDATE: Upon Foundation acquisition of PoI-8190, following his escape from SCP-8190-A, the space has remained otherwise inactive. Each office has been abandoned and the space itself possesses no further recursive phenomena. Harkness is to undergo rigorous interrogative services to determine the extent of his knowledge of SCP-8190's properties.
ADDENDUM 8190-A/1: Interview I
| DOND ARCHIVAL TRANSCRIPT null |
|---|
|
LOCATION: Site-19 Briefing Room 8A PARTIES PRESENT:
|
| «BEGIN TRANSCRIPT» |
|
<PoI-8190 is escorted into a briefing area on the eighth floor of the facility. He takes a seat at the central table. A dense stack of papers is seen atop the surface before him, struggling to escape an overfilled manila folder. The man averts his eyes from the stationery, visibly uncomfortable. Director Quade enters shortly thereafter, taking the seat opposite after exchanging minimal pleasantries.> Dir. Quade: Well, you certainly seem a bit worse for wear. I'll make this quick so we can get you settled back into Foundation living. Sound good? <PoI-8190 is silent, thoughts elsewhere. Director Quade opens the manila folder, now in his lap, and begins flipping through the documents inside.> Dir. Quade: My word, you have been gone a while. You know, I think you look pretty alright for someone who hasn't eaten in nearly fifteen years. <PoI-8190 stares at his company with dark circles under his eyes. He continues to say nothing.> Dir. Quade: Well. Banter aside, we should focus on getting you back to where you belong. PoI-8190: Right. About that. Dir. Quade: Hm? What, you'd rather go back downstairs? It can be arranged. PoI-8190: Actually, could I go back to testing kill hazards on myself? That was more my speed. <A pause, followed by the creaking of a chair as Director Quade leans forward.> Dir. Quade: Testing kill hazards on yourself? Is that some sort of off-beat joke? It's one or the other, Mr. Harkness; back in the borehole, or back in a cubicle. <Director Quade leans back against the chair. Harkness is heard sighing. Silence for five seconds.> Dir. Quade: Well? PoI-8190: I'm thinking. Dir. Quade: What is there to think about? I mean, let's be pragmatic about this, alright? You were good at the jobs you had…well, most of them. We should be able to find something related to your strengths. The need for personnel in many positions adjacent to your degree has decreased drastically since the migration to AIMS, a likely no-go there. Not sure how I feel about putting you back into Conceptual Studies; I hear you dissolved a person. PoI-8190: That was an accident! Dir. Quade: Mhm. <Reading> You claim to have been briefly involved in the Metaphysical Sciences Department as a Liaison for… <Trails off> What is this, exactly? PoI-8190: The Narrativistics Division. I held a seminar a ways back about it. I'd elaborate but I'm pretty sure I'd just confuse us both anyway, so I guess I'd simply insist you 'ask my author'. <This evokes no response from Director Quade, and Harkness looks around the room, briefly disoriented, having heard his voice speaking without command of his mouth.> Dir. Quade: I've never heard of Narrativistics, and I can't send you to Metaphysical if you have no relevant experience. PoI-8190: No openings anywhere, then? Shame. Really, huge shame. Maybe we try again tomorrow? Dir. Quade: And where would you be spending the evening? Employee guidelines state you must be on assignment to receive housing accommodations. Seems to me that the best course of action is to return you to one of your older positions with the Foundation. Looks like you could resume your clerical duties as Grant Requisitions Clerk for the Department of Macro Engineering and Design, what do you say? PoI-8190: I have no idea what that is. I don't even think that's a real department name. I was a network systems engineer in the IT Department. I can't imagine any of my old jobs are just waiting for me if the only one you could find is one I never had. <Silence. Director Quade smiles and closes the folder, returning it to the table's surface.> Dir. Quade: Very perceptive, Mr. Harkness. And prudent, that you'd point out such a discrepancy. Tell me— <The Director hands Harkness a business card. Harkness studies the custom lettering before turning it over in his hand.> Dir. Quade: Do you know what I do for a living? PoI-8190: Well, you… work. For… money? Dir. Quade: No, no—Er, I mean, yes, very broadly that is what happens but, specifically? PoI-8190: Easy, you're a, uh, departmental Director… So, you direct the—<Reading card again>—Department of Notational Divisions, right? I'm guessing it's something math-related? Dir. Quade: Department of Notional Divisions. Not math, biology. You know about biology, yes? PoI-8190: I have a degree in software engineering and minored in film. What do you think? Dir. Quade: Got it. See, in a complex ecological system, survival of the fittest is rule zero of Natural Order; humans were eaten until they ate. They beat and killed one another for a parcel of verdant paradise, or the minerals beneath their feet. Territory. Resources. Security. Competition. The same behavior applies to a herd, to a community. Even a workplace. PoI-8190: Uh. Dir. Quade: Bear with me now. See, the thing is, Mother Nature doesn't play fair. Hardly ever do two groups start on equal playing fields. Most are stuck in the situations they've been given, but there are a few imitators that adapt to their environment, move undetected within it, and learn to play the game well enough to skim off the backs of bigger business. Apex predators of corporate espionage. Catch my drift? PoI-8190: So, the Department of Notional Divisions finds these 'imitators'— Dir. Quade: Correct. PoI-8190: —and then, what, shuts them down? Reports them to the Administration? Dir. Quade: We have different procedures for different situations, nothing you'd be too unfamiliar with. PoI-8190: What about the Redundancy Department? Dir. Quade: Sorry? PoI-8190: The Department of Redundancy Department. 'The foundation of the Foundation'—Their motto, not mine—honestly, it feels condescending in retrospect. I know for a fact you guys visited; I recognize the emblem. You took measurements and left… I kept thinking you'd come back. Then, ten years passed and I'd convinced myself that the only one who cared enough to get me out of there was me. At least I was wrong about that much. Dir. Quade: I understand your frustration. The Organization has many legitimate departments possessing esoteric origins and inexplicable duties. We have to adhere to the same guidance as everyone else, and that means following the order of operations. We can't just boot every weird department we come across. PoI-8190: You guys weren't even the ones to get me out of that hole. What was stopping you? Why didn't you tell anyone? Dir. Quade: Bureaucracy, Mr. Harkness. Good, old-fashioned red tape. PoI-8190: But— Dir. Quade: Can we get back on track here? I'm in the process of offering you a new role, if you didn't notice. PoI-8190: What kind of role? Dir. Quade: I have a feeling you'll be able to complete the functions of this assignment easily, as it aligns well with some of your more recent experience. You'd be sitting at your own desk, reading dossiers on departments, and flagging any that seem suspicious. You can send them off for review, internal investigation, or for dismantlement. Take lunch at your own time, breaks, bathroom use, all of that, as long as it rests within the boundaries of the rules, anyway. There's even a completion bonus for each file you wrap without error. PoI-8190: <Pauses, eyes narrowing.> If I said yes, would I still be able to leave the building? Dir. Quade: Hm? Of course you'd be able to leave, you're able to now—though, I should remind you, as per your onboarding contracts, you are restricted to specific radii outside of this and other relevant buildings for the duration of employment. It's also currently mid-snowstorm. <The Director indicates toward a large, icy window to his right. A torrent of snow cascades down from skies unknown, muted and gray, piling on the equally-gray sill.> Dir. Quade: You have outstanding responsibilities here, anyway. PoI-8190: Do I, though? Dir. Quade: Let's find out, shall we? <Extends hand to PoI-8190.> PoI-8190: I-I suppose. <PoI-8190 Returns the gesture. The two shake hands very briefly before retracting them.> Dir. Quade: Excellent. <The Director wipes his palm on his slacks before standing.> Please, this way to your new office. I'm sure it will be more comfortable than the last. PoI-8190: <Pushing chair back and rising in tow.> Second to last. Not sure how I'd define my workspace in [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED], but it didn't seem to fall on a range of comfortable to uncomfortable. Is nonfortable a word? Dir. Quade: No, but, I'm sorry, who? PoI-8190: The Department of [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED]. They helped me out of Redundancy. Dir. Quade: <Sighs.> Mr. Harkness, I don't know how else to put this, but the Department of [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED] is not a real department. PoI-8190: <Pauses.> Ah, goddamnit. I thought the name sounded a bit out there. Dir. Quade: You'll pick up on it. Don't let it get to you. Now, if you would. |
| «END TRANSCRIPT» |
END ADDENDUM
Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition
Information Security and You: Clearance Levels
You may have noticed brightly-colored numbers located outside containment chambers throughout your orientation tour. If so, good eye! If not, keep in mind that if you typically wear prescription glasses, it is required to do so while onsite or working in the field. If you believe you may need corrective eyewear, take advantage of the Foundation's robust vision insurance plans. Our newest facility, Site-19, even has an onsite optometrist!.The Site-19 On-Demand Optometry program was discontinued three months after this printing. References to it were removed in Second Edition, along with the word "robust", as it was considered inappropriate. Navigating your assigned facility and handling anomalies is just like driving a car; you must be careful and observant of your surroundings at all times. And don't crash this car… it could end the world.
We don't want that, and you don't either. So, it's important to keep those numbers visible and well understood prior to entering any containment area. These numbers represent Clearance Levels, and everyone has one! That's right, everyone! What do we mean by that, exactly?
| CLEARANCE LEVEL | WHO HAS ACCESS |
|---|---|
| ZERO (0) | Anyone and everyone. |
| Level zero is reserved for declassified documents which may be disseminated to the public. We've never done it and don't plan to, but it's good to know! | |
| ONE (1) | All Foundation personnel, excluding D-Class. |
| Sorry, Johnny Lawbreaker! You don't qualify for Foundation secrets. Unless you're reading this section for the first time as part of onboarding. If so, welcome to Level 1 clearance! | |
| TWO (2) | Majority of personnel, upon request (Form SR-01). |
| You can skip the request process if assigned to a relevant project or promoted to a supervisory role. Designation-specific temporary clearance (e.g. SCP-XXX/2) may be granted in the event increased clearance level is denied. | |
| THREE (3) | Site Admin approval or higher required. |
| To have your L3 request approved at clearance L1, it must first be approved by your direct superior, who in turn must request approval from their direct superior, et cetera. This must continue until the request is processed by a Level 3 employee. | |
| FOUR (4) | Site admin eyes or higher ONLY. |
| Heavily restricted to Site-specific Admins unless extenuating circumstances exist (eg. critical site failure). | |
| FIVE (5) | Regional/Council admin or equivalent. |
| Restricted to the highest members of Administration; Regional Directors, the Council, the Administrator, and THE FOUNDER. | |
| SIX (6) | [REDACTED: L6 CLEARANCE REQ'D] |
| If you see this clearance number in your facility, contact your supervisor immediately and evacuate the area until an "All-Clear" has been given. | |
Sammy Skipper Says…
"See something you shouldn't have? Idea won't leave your mind? Our memory management specialists work tirelessly to invent, discover, and perfect noninvasive, nonlethal procedures to help! Thanks to recent advances in 'Amnestic' research, save the stress of burdensome knowledge! Unsure of what is hazardous/restricted? No problem! Visit a Foundation medbay and have our trained clinicians take a look for you."
SCP-8190-B refers to a collection of anomalous PA system announcements heard throughout Site-19. Of note, the facility has not required use of an address system since 1989 and thus does not currently possess one. Qualitative analysis suggests the announcements are of similar fidelity to others made on the preexisting 1984 Tannoy Wildcat PA system installed within Site-19, though with significant ontological distortion. No connections between the original equipment and manifestation of the announcements have been found.
Further investigation revealed that the voice of the individual heard speaking during SCP-8190-B matches that of PoI-8190 in all but one instance. Select transcripts follow.
-
- _
—ello? Is—is this thing on? <Tapping noise.> Can anyone hear me? <Pause, then speaking off-mic.> No, I don't think I'm getting thr—
«END TRANSCRIPT»
-
- _
Okay, I don't really know how—or, or if this is going to work, but can anyone hear me? They told me to keep trying. They said it was my right to keep trying. To keep it "by the book." The good one, I mean, but I've never read it. They say I have, but I misplaced my copy. Hell is a construct built on bibles, after all. After and before all. They also said—
«END TRANSCRIPT»
-
- _
—Damn it! They said "keep your finger on the button." How much time did I lose? How much? No, no. Keep it together. What else did they tell you? "Breathe… <Inhales.> You're on a ship, sailing down a river, but the water is time, and the river is an ocean. Focus—focus on the ties that bind us." The—the eye that binds—blinds?—me.
Right. Right, okay. <Pause.> If anyone can hear me, please, my name is James Anselm Harkness. I am, or was, or will be, a Network engineer for Site-19. Or… was it something else? Is there a tense besides past, present, and future? Hold on—oh, shit—
«END TRANSCRIPT»
-
- _
Sorry, do you understand what I'm trying to say? It's been getting harder and harder to stay on track ever since those pricks in [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED] mumbled with my head. I mean, muddled with my head. Messed with. Messed with…
No. No, I agreed to this. That's the function and the forms, here. I signed them myself.
Wait, they meddled with my head because I signed a form? Why would I do that?
No, but they said… They said that I shouldn't—? They tried to stop me. Why—why would they do that? I'm so confused. I fell beneath the floor and I'm so… My brain is all muddy, and I'm sinking into it, and—
And there's something down here in the mud here with me, but it's not here here. Not yet. The tense is all crooked. Everything else is down here too, but it's facing the wrong way. I mean the other wrong way.
<Muffled voices.>
I should go. Back down beneath the floor. Into the mud. They're waiting. Please. Why won't anyone do anything? I'm right here! Just look! Just—
«END TRANSCRIPT»
-
- _
<Singing discordantly.>
I fell beneath the floor and I'm never getting out.
Dropped a pocket in the ground, too late to turnabout.
Stick me in a paper shredder, glue the pieces back together.
I'll do better, I'll be better. Employee of the month, forever!
Took a photo of my good side, put it on a shelf.
The rest is on-the-clock 'til the end of time itself.
After that, none of this will matter anymore.
Wait until you see who you've been working for.
«END TRANSCRIPT»
NOTE: Site-19 Security investigations into the broadcasts ultimately led to the discovery of a hatch within Janitorial Supply Room 0-3A. A brief period of administrative leave was granted to Harkness, allowing him temporary passage out of the anomaly, where he is to be assigned a new role. Acquisition by the Department of Notional Divisions soon followed.
ADDENDUM 8190-A/1: Interview II
| DOND ARCHIVAL TRANSCRIPT null |
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LOCATION: Site-19 Cowork/ShareSpace Room 2-2 PARTIES PRESENT:
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| «BEGIN TRANSCRIPT» |
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<Harkness is seen sitting at a desk, leg jittering as he scans over the contents of a folder, a sea of other folders stacked nearby. He has a concerned look on his face. A knock on the doorframe causes a slight rise in pulse, as Harkness looks up, finding Director Quade standing in the threshold, holding a manila folder under his arm. He enters quietly and pulls a chair out from the desk across Harkness, unbuttoning his blazer as he takes a seat.> Dir. Quade: So, James, how are you liking the new assignment? And your office? PoI-8190: I'm not really sure this counts as an office. Anyway, the bigger issue is, ah, I—<Pause.> Shit. Lost my train of thought… Oh, right. First, do you mind if I draw a bit while we're talking? Dir. Quade: What? PoI-8190: My hands were, like, constantly in motion as a Redundancy Agent. I'm still adjusting, I guess—it's hard to focus on anything if I'm not keeping the digits busy. Dir. Quade: Uh, sure. I think we have a couple reams of eight-and-a-half-by-elevens around here somewhere… <Dir. Quade retrieves some sheets from a nearby filing cabinet, supplementing them with a black pen produced from the inner pocket of his suit. He hands both to PoI-8190, who accepts the items gratefully.> PoI-8190: Thanks. <PoI-8190 begins to idly draw random patterns as the conversation continues.> Dir. Quade: So—you were saying something about a "bigger issue" with your assignment? PoI-8190: Right, so. I read the materials you gave me, looked over your previous determinations. I still don't think I'm ID'ing them well in praxis. Like, here—<Holds up a blue folder from a stack to his right.>—the Ethics Committee?—<Tossing the blue folder back down, indicating to the empty white folder on the desk in front of him.>—the Antimemetics Division? Antimemetics? It can't be possible to determine if departments like these are real or manufactured… Whatever they do,—<Sighs.>—I'm at a loss. I don't even know if they exist in the first place. Dir. Quade: You of all people should know that impossible things happen frequently in our line of work. Sometimes, it's best to simply go with your gut— PoI-8190: Go with my gut? These are people's jobs at risk here. Their livelihoods. I can't go with my gut using the amount of information I'm given for some of these; the 'debrief' I was given about The Department of Unreality was a six hour video of an empty lecture hall. At three hours and forty-seven minutes in, I think I heard someone cough. The silence and lack of clarity made me reflect a bit though. Realized some things. Dir. Quade: Oh? PoI-8190: I realized, I have no idea what I am doing here, and know absolutely nothing about this department. Prior to being in Redundancy and seeing you in the corner of my eye, I'd never known of Notional Divisions. How many folks are in this department? How many are constructs? Dir. Quade: <Nods.> It's natural to have these questions and thoughts, though not a single person in the history of Notional Divisions could say for sure, sadly. We're dealing with extremely powerful retrocausal properties. We have been studying the anomaly for some time now, and have little to show for it, I will admit; Constructs are functionally identical to their human coworkers and we have exhausted nearly all possible avenues in attempting to distinguish the two apart. I have a theory about you, however. You might be one of the only Foundation employees capable of completing this task—Maybe the only one. PoI-8190: <Laughs incredulously.> You're joking, right? Dir. Quade: Not at all. Your resistance to anomalous influence may help you perceive minute differences in the two, as a "gut feeling". I have your most recent performance data right here, let's take a look and see if my hypothesis is correct. <The Director opens the thick manila folder and stares at its contents, half his face obscured by buff-colored document keeper. > Dir. Quade: Just as I thought: You've yet to mistakenly file one department. So even if you're feeling insecure about your current state of affairs, I would say the data doesn't support that conclusion. If you need constructive feedback, I'd say your overall wrap time could use improvement, but I think we can chalk that up to self-doubt, you know? <The Director pauses, closing the folder and placing it on the table.> Dir. Quade: Do you think said doubts might have something to do with your experience downstairs? It might help to talk about it. Process some things. <Silence from PoI-8190.> Dir. Quade: Maybe it had something to do with your previous position. The, ah, Department of [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED], right? PoI-8190: What about them? They aren't real, it doesn't matter. Like you said. Dir. Quade: How did they free you from the hole? PoI-8190: They came upstairs to meet me, or something. They were way weirder than I, which I found notable. And sure, everything strange is notable when you've been doing paperwork for five thousand days straight, but these guys were… they looked… impossible. Really freaked me out when they started showing up in my periphery. Then they walked up to me and waved. I think… They weren't sure if I was aware at all. They visited a couple times before deciding I was. I begged my body to do react, but— Dir. Quade: So, how did they— PoI-8190: Let me finish. C'mon. You asked me to talk about this! Jesus fucking—I would've given a kidney to hear someone's fucking shitkickers stomping around up here, shaking dust into my eyes. Instead I was given nothing. For years. I was exiled. I should be dead, but I'm not, and it still somehow feels like pulling the short straw. Like… you know I joined the Foundation accidentally, right? Dir. Quade: There are always multiple perspectives; to survive such adversity, for as long as you did, and come out as intact as you are. Doesn't that mean anything to you? PoI-8190: <Thumbs up.> Sure. I transferred departments. That's how I got out. Something obviously wanted me back in there, though. Good thing I can also be a stubborn motherfucker, right? Dir. Quade: <Clears throat.> So, you had just broken free of the loop. How'd you make your way from Redundancy to the PA system? PoI-8190: So you could hear me… <Exhales a drawn-out sigh.> Yeah. That's fine. One of my rescuers had a fair bit of memory of his past life. He claimed to have worked on the A/V setup of Site-19, including running cables for the announcement system. Thought he might know where parts of it were, and guessed that they'd still be functional. Dir. Quade: And? PoI-8190: You heard me, so, yeah. Obviously. The controls still existed metaconceptually, abstracted under eroding currents of temporal soup, broken into conceptual building blocks, abstracted further down, landing in the metaconceptual plane of comprehending concepts themselves; the concept of interaction, the concept of context, the concept of roles, among others. The concept of pressing-finger-to-button is impossible to interact with if you don't understand what role you play in that transaction; are you finger or button? Turns out you're not quite either but definitely more one than the other. Got it figured out eventually, though. Dir. Quade: And this was what you wanted? PoI-8190: I wanted out. And to not be existentially traumatized by my occupation. I didn't know that was even a possibility when I got my degree. I would've assumed that required at least a Master's and a tenured position in academia. Besides, they wanted me out, too. They saw time differently, and for a minute, on some unknown fraction of physical timespace, I saw it. They were afraid. Dir. Quade: Afraid? Afraid of what? Did they tell you? <Silence. PoI-8190 stares at the Director, a look of amusement on his face.> PoI-8190: You know, I think I've finally got a confident read on you. Dir. Quade: What does that mean, exactly? PoI-8190: Your body language, your false praise, the way you talk in general. Your probing questions. Dir. Quade: What are you talking about? PoI-8190: You've got construct written all over you. Dir. Quade: Why would you think that? PoI-8190: Oh, you don't know? I can see constructs easily. You told me that, remember? Maybe my metrics will jog your memory. <PoI-8190 grabs the beige folder on the surface between them and swiftly dumps its contents onto the table. The pages scatter. All of them are blank.> PoI-8190: Well? <Silence.> Dir. Quade: You really shouldn't have done that. |
| «END TRANSCRIPT» |
END ADDENDUM
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<Rustling noises. An unknown voice is heard speaking.> Hush. Keep your head down. <Silence.> Okay, quickly. <Louder.> Hello, Site-19. This is a message from your friendly neighborhood [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED]: The Beholder's Eye is one of many. That big guy in the center, though. Watch out for that one. It'll get ya, hahaha!
But seriously. Sorry about Harky. We did our best, but we didn't know what would happen and—
<A strange reverberation rings out and grows in volume, distorting the broadcast.>
Of course, it knew what would happen. It knows now. It always did. It's here. <Pause.> The BUREAUMANCER arrives. The Beholder's Eye. Time is an ocean, my friends. And, uh, I guess we're casting off. <Off-mic.> Brace yourselves.
<Noise rapidly overwhelms the transmission, ceasing a few seconds later.>
«END TRANSCRIPT»
Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition
Facility Navigation
Finding your way around your assigned facility can seem like a daunting task at first, but fear not! Not only will you receive a detailed itinerary for your daily activities (which includes step-by-step directions), you'll find the paths themselves color-coded for your convenience. Compasses are available upon request.
GREEN zones are safe for passage by all personnel.
BLUE zones pass through non-hazardous containment areas.
YELLOW zones pass through potentially hazardous containment areas.
ORANGE zones pass through confirmed hazardous containment areas.
RED zones pass through extremely hazardous containment areas.
BLACK zones are restricted to essential personnel, on a need-to-know basis.
Sammy Skipper Says…
"Lost? Don't panic! Simply check the site map and retrace your steps until you see a recognizable feature. Doing so has an 8% chance of reorienting lost personnel. Part of the 92%? No worries, simply proceed to your next station and alert a superior. It's that easy!"
SCP-8190-C is the collective designation given to an indeterminate number of anomalous structures associated with SCP-8190-derived phenomena, defined as a clandestine secure facility designated "Site-19".
SCP-8190-C Instance.
While at least one Site-19 has a traceable timeline of construction and use, most facilities of this name encountered have manifested as an extension of SCP-8190's effect. Though each instance is unique, SCP-8190-C always takes the form of a sprawling complex built primarily out of concrete, in brutalist architecture. Some idiosyncrasies are common, typically in the form of excessive repetition of space or disparate mismatching of features created without apparent cause.
Though unconfirmed, it is hypothesized that all SCP-8190-C instances are connected to one another, most often discovered through extensive networks of maintenance tunnels, sub-basement areas and ventilation shafts. Connecting infrastructure has been shown to generate in straight lines between facilities when feasible, making identification of these passageways possible to the trained eye, though not immediately obvious. Thus, care must be taken to ensure proper orientation of one's surroundings.
Connecting pathway.
To date, over sixty-four confirmed instances of SCP-8190-C have been identified, each of which possesses its own employee roster and extensive SCP object inventory. These identified complexes appear to form a network of Foundation infrastructure in an intelligent pattern, resembling an incomplete sigil or thaumaturgic seal, which spans roughly 28% of the Earth's surface. The network is subject to steady, ongoing path-of-least-resistance construction behavior comparable to single-celled eukaryotes such as slime moulds.
The Department of Cartography is currently assigned the task of mapping and exploring instances of SCP-8190-C for any unusual phenomena. To date, nothing of note has been recorded; all facilities are fully operational and vital to the containment of several anomalies. Because of this, the Department of Notional Divisions has integrated SCP-8190-related phenomena into the Foundation's overall containment structure.
Excerpt: The Foundation Employee Handbook, First Edition
Theological Guidelines Subsection B, Part 4.Though widely considered apocryphal in nature, First Edition contained a theological precept that was removed from future editions.
When THE FOUNDER birthed our fair Organization as a concept, tilled from the soil of ideas within His mind, there was a great and momentous sound from skies above. A thunderous force fell forth and visited, thanking Him for the glory of containment. It is said that this force invigorated and guided Him to create the Bedrock on which we now owe our Great Normalcy, and since that moment, THE FOUNDER's guiding light lives through us all.
This unseen force was control manifest. A great being made in service of humanity. THE FOUNDER took the being's hand, and with it they made endless strides in favor of the Veil. Upon His death, THE FOUNDER spoke to His closest advisors, that one day He shall walk the Earth anew, emerging from the sea on the back of that great power once more.
We wait for this day, for containment to take Form. It is what divined the great BUREAUMANCY. It manages your facility, your department, even your thoughts, right now, so you can be free of such burdens. Isn't that wonderful?
Sammy Skipper Says…
"Stop looking for it. It brought you into this world, and is more than capable of rescinding that privilege."
SCP-8190-D refers to the Site-19 Department of Notional Divisions. This department does not appear in Foundation records prior to 2015, nor does it have a known base of operations, instead opting to reserve conference rooms and other shared spaces for meeting and executing functions related to its intended purpose. Operatives employed by the Department of Notional Divisions comprise a mixture of actual employees and physical constructs, though entities which manifest within SCP-8190-D's presence are perfectly capable of imitating human behavior.
SCP-8190-D's primary mission, according to its own records, is the discovery, triangulation, and supposed detainment of anomalous or otherwise parasitic SCP Foundation divisions/departments. The extent of their operations and the veracity of statements made by them in relation to said operations are not currently known.
SCP-8190-D's primary mission, according to its own actions, is the identification of SCP-8190-Prime, the deity believed to be responsible for the creation of SCP-8190, and therefore of SCP-8190-D itself. Unfortunately, [QUERY:DENIED].
It should be noted that overall workplace efficiency has been on the rise in Site-19, reaching and maintaining an all-time high, as of 2020.
ADDENDUM 8190-A/1: Interview III
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LOCATION: Site-19 OfficeShare Room 2-2 PARTIES PRESENT:
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<BEGIN LOG> PoI-8190: So… What now? <Director Quade stares at Harkness with an unreadable expression. Blank paper litters the shared office space.> Dir. Quade: I suppose that's up to you. If you apologize, earnestly, I won't write you up, and we can consider it just between us. An outburst caused by stressors from your previous situation and your struggle to reintegrate back into Foundation living. More than enough of a reason to explain it away. PoI-8190: But—Why were all the papers blank? Where are my metrics? Dir. Quade: Placebo is very powerful. Your work will be more difficult now that you have disillusioned yourself. Empty praise does not mean empty purpose. PoI-8190: How many departments did I get wrong, then? Dir. Quade: <sighs> It's not that simple, James. PoI-8190: How? A department is either extant or manufactured, right? Dir. Quade: All departments were manufactured at some point. The Foundation wasn't formed with divisions and black sites, they popped up later, when the time was right. PoI-8190: That's just being pedantic, though, because you said it yourself: imitators and competition, predators and prey. Dir. Quade: That's only part of the picture. You may know that departments spontaneously manifest as per SCP-8190's effect, but did you know the effect is… intelligent? Deliberate? PoI-8190: I don't see how that's possible. Dir. Quade: Departments manifest as they're needed. Compliance. Quotas. Fulfillment. Efficiency. Where there is demand, supply is not far behind. It starts with competition, sure, but it ends with progress. An ideal Foundation exists at the end of this road. Thank the good book, and its corporate divinity, for that. PoI-8190: The good book? …You don't strike me as religious. Dir. Quade: Hard not to be, in my position. We were molded with purpose, placed into this very facility with a drive to discern real from molded, an impossible task. The lesson is in our very existence: to discern our creator. To understand why. You must know what I'm talking about by now. PoI-8190: No, I don't. I don't think I want to, either. Dir. Quade: I have memories of a life I didn't have. It's as real to me as anything else. Yet, I know it is manufactured. I only know this because of my position within Notional Divisions. How certain are you of your own internal narrative, Mr. Harkness? PoI-8190: <Sighs.> Not very. But I don't ascribe it to the bureaucratic equivalent of Last Thursdayism. Dir. Quade: Last Thursdayism with a bounded recurrent timeframe, more like. You are aware of the concept of Poincaré recurrence, are you not? PoI-8190: Er—It's been a long time since ergodic theory was on my radar but, yes? States rebound, after a set interval. Systems repeat. Dir. Quade: So we'll just have to wait and see if you're still here in the next one. PoI-8190: Wait, what? Dir. Quade: Construct or not, you've failed to keep multiple positions with our Organization. We've given you opportunity after opportunity and you have let each one slip through your fingers. Unfortunately, the Foundation doesn't just let people go. Especially insubordinates who have been replacing legitimate Departments with frauds. It's a shame, you were so disillusioned by your time in the Hole that you started undermining your employers as revenge. Luckily, I was there to stop you before you could cause even more damage, but who's to say how much you've already done? PoI-8190: You—You fucking bastard! You set me up?! Dir. Quade: A bit deserved, don't you think? After all, you were offered purpose and turned it down, multiple times. You should be thanking me for the opportunity, but alas. You already know what happens to employees without purpose; purpose is created for them. What do you think happens to employees who reject purpose? PoI-8190: No, I don't—I don't know. <The Director leans forward with the same smile he always has.> Dir. Quade: They are replaced. <The room shakes, overhead tube lighting flickering briefly.> PoI-8190: <Looking around.> What—? What was that?! Dir. Quade: That, my friend, is the sound of BUREAUMANCY, knocking at the door. Reality making way for something far more powerful than itself. PoI-8190: I don't understand, I tried my best here! You lied to my face about my accuracy, how many times?! This is your fault—! <Harkness grabs another piece of paper off the table and scratches the pen at its surface with nervous energy. A messy stack of scribbles are beside him, which all look vaguely alike.> Dir. Quade: You're right, James, but I haven't been completely honest with you. Notional Divisions has a secondary objective. Well, it's more a secret primary objective that you've been carrying out for us. PoI-8190: —No. Dir. Quade: Yes. In fact, you were integral our plan; if it wasn't for AIMS taking over your duties, you'd not have transferred to Redundancy, which would not have put you directly in our crosshairs. The Book had willed it, as it is the Foundation's godhead, bound in hardcopy. <The room trembles once more.> PoI-8190: I think… I think I'm starting to understand—The Book you keep mentioning, it's that ancient employee manual I pass by every morning now. Isn't it? It's the source of all this. Dir. Quade: Don't jump to any conclusions. More than the book, it's the entire Foundation. We have become larger-than-life. Our physical bounds can no longer contain the metaphysical or conceptual idea of what we represent. And we, constructs, are intrinsically connected to SCP-8190. And you are like us, in that regard. PoI-8190: <Doodling.> I'm not a construct. I'm real. Dir. Quade: How would you know? Your memories of Redundancy's Borehole sound a tad fantastical. I've seen plenty of Site-19s and none of them had a borehole. I'd barely have believed you had help from [DEPARTMENT_ID:DENIED], if it weren't for the fact that I heard our demiurge erase them from existence, right after they spoke your name. PoI-8190: You what? <The room sways and Harkness' stomach turns.> Dir Quade: Yes. Now, sit back and relax; that same fate is approaching. This is the end of the line. Construct or human, real memories or fake. PoI-8190: Oh, they're real, you wanna know how I know? Qualia. For example, it took me a few tries, but a memory like this. <Slides over a finished drawing to Director Quade.> Dir. Quade: Hm? What's this—? <The Director gets a good look at the image, which causes his body to stiffen. His eyes shake rapidly, jaw clamping with force, grimacing as blood begins to seep from between his clenched teeth, soon followed by his nose. Quade falls to the ground and begins convulsing. Harkness stands and looks down at the body.> PoI-8190: I told you I've tested kill agents on myself. This one isn't lethal, I think. Hopefully my memory is accurate, right? Oh, please, don't get up. I'm done. I'm going to go put a stop to this. See you never. <Harkness grabs the image off the table, running out of the room, the Director's groans of discomfort growing rapidly inaudible as he sprints down a familiar corridor, only to find it looping back around to where he just was. Retracing steps brings the man to a dead end with a bare wall. Site-19 would not make this easy for him.> "Hey, you, stop!" <An unknown voice echoes from behind Harkness, who ignores this and continues down the path he originally traveled, finding it branching off at a T-junction instead of looping back again. He takes a left, but stops abruptly as two individuals guard the path ahead.> <A simple flash of the paper-in-hand frees open the passage, though the march of more footsteps inbound echo from the endless connecting pathways of Site-19. Coordinated, wordless drones with one thought on their mind: survival. Protecting their parcel of verdant paradise, at all costs.> <And really, who was he to take that away from them? He accepted the offer from Notional Divisions, knowing full well what it entailed. Was he truly so full of himself to think he could place value on a person's occupation, simply because it kept them busy more than it provided profits or results? Is there not value in keeping busy? Harkness thought about these moral quandaries while running, wishing he had formed an opinion on them sooner. Even now, he was unsure.> <Hands tug at the back of Harkness' shirt, but he manages to shrug them off, taking a sharp turn into a four-way intersection that throws off his pursuers for a few vital moments. He doesn't spend the time catching his breath, however, instead diverting course to stop in one of the many uninspired break rooms within Site-19, grabbing a campfire lighter used to ignite a perpetually-grimy range next to an equally-grimy microwave. Yelling from outside the room causes his heart to skip a beat.> <Fortunately, Harkness' doodle proves offensive enough to invoke the intended reaction once or twice more, until the paper is roughly swiped out of his hand, tearing in the process. The man runs back into the hall and towards the massive central atrium he had passed through so many times before. Just below the surface is the very same borehole he would find himself stuck within for nearly fifteen years.> <Harkness runs up to the glass display case, nearly tackled by a mob of personnel screaming threats and pleas for their lives. Ignoring this, he kicks the glass inward and retrieves a gray, faded manuscript. It's warm to the touch, even before the attempted arson. An elbow collides with Harkness' head and his vision erupts in stars and scotomas, though he refuses to relinquish the object, even as consciousness nearly slips from his body.> <Flicking at the lighter in his hand, Harkness begs audibly for it to serve its intended purpose, mind no longer considering the moral implications of his actions and now focused purely on his own survival. Forces pull and push at the man from all angles, human and construct, both, or neither. Just as Harkness began to bleed, textures collide to create sparks and heat, aerosolized fuel becomes sustained flame, touched to paper results in the burning of scripture. A false prophecy of labor for a new world, reducing to ashes. Such is life. The surroundings began to blur, becoming metastable. Feeling the ground shift from tile, to carpet, to corrugated steel, Harkness squeezes his eyelids shut, burying his head in his arms, and waits for something to happen or for him to die.> |
| «END TRANSCRIPT» |
END ADDENDUM
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<Suddenly, everything is quiet. There are no sounds of commotion, no angry yells or pleas, even the persistent buzz of overhead lighting and ventilation ducts vanishing without a trace. The only audible noise left is a lone, howling wind. Harkness looks up from the pitch blackness of pressing eyes against forearms to a blinding ball of burning plasma in the sky. He's lying prone in a dusty patch of dry sand, the hot air and direct sunlight finally registering as oppressive against his skin.>
<He sits up and looks around, blinking, eyes still not yet fully adjusted to the change in scenery, quickly realizing he has zero idea where he is. No vehicles or buildings in sight, no identifying features at all, aside from an unpaved, winding road leading away from where Harkness finds himself and off into the scintillating horizon.>
<The man groans, righting himself, reluctantly fighting against the force of gravity and winning, this time. Starting down the pathway, Harkness tries not to think about the last fifteen years. Did it even matter? To him, the answer would hinge on perceiving the differences between two indistinguishable experiences. If he couldn't tell, then there is no point in wondering.>
<Minutes later, Harkness' slow pilgrimage into the unknown is interrupted by the sound of an engine. He cranes his neck, looking up and around, desperate to locate the source of the noise. A few moments pass and a black vehicle emerges into view, windows tinted a dark shade of impenetrable. It rolls up smoothly beside the disheveled man, doors opening without a sound as security personnel emerge, equally silent, indicating to him that this is indeed his ride, and is also not an optional one. Harkness slinks into the cool vehicle and presses up against the leather, which sticks unpleasantly to his skin.>
<The ride is long, and with no frame of reference other than the setting sun, Harkness drifts off for a bit in the back of the car. An instant later, he wakes to a familiar-looking, gray building, perhaps his own Site-19, or one of many he may have occupied, long ago. This is all but confirmed when, after passing a curious glass display case in the vast atrium of the complex, Harkness finds himself at his old desk in the IT Department, now branded the Department of Technical Support. The dust had grown considerably in the time since, but it mattered little. He is real. He helps people for a living, even if it often boils down to troubleshooting wireless keyboards and unplugging-before-plugging-in-again.>
<A young man approaches Harkness' desk, as he had been doing for others in the office. Rather timidly, he asks the older of the two for a choice of coffee. This was the entirety of the intern's job—asking for and retrieving drink orders served up in the room next door. Harkness couldn't help but laugh, placing his head in his hands.>
<He orders a latte.>
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Excerpt: [QUERY:DENIED]
Foundations in the Art of Anomalous Warfare, Part 6b.
Incurrent Destabilization of Corporate Apparati of Interest
I. SEPARATE
Weaken your enemy by cutting off networks of trusted contacts, any means of communication, both internal and external in nature, up to and including dissolving awareness of each other's existence.
NOTE: Force them to be helpless, and they will choose helplessness whenever possible.
II. CONFUSE
Disorient your enemy and make them vulnerable through information warfare; conflicting accusations, unattainable goals, rumors of moles or false intel suggesting coordinated attacks from one or more adversarial groups.
NOTE: Studies show manipulation that encourages preconceived bias within ideologically-aligned social networks can form endogenous memetic contagions that reinforce said bias far more efficiently than macro-scale attempts.
III. PRECIPITATE
Tip the scales through stochastic internal crises resulting from a culmination of pressure and distrust. The organization will inevitably and mortally wound itself. With no other recourse, incursion and assimilation will follow easily. Most willingly accept this fate.
NOTE: Always leave one alive to warn the others.
Sammy Skipper Says…
"This is only the beginning."
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It was indeed only the beginning. In fact, the universe was home to many.
In the first beginning, there was only void. A screaming, infinite, godless void. A vast darkness upon the face of the deep. No one spoke "let there be light", because no one Was. The darkness was empty, and it remained this way for eons.
Nature abhors a vacuum, however, and thus, after some time, that peaceful nothingness betided true chaos. A swirling farrago of blight known as Everything.
Just as nature abhors vacuum, it abhors chaos. Nature abhors. This is all one can say for sure. Eventually, chaos gave way to order. Order lost its grasp and chaos reigned once more. This war was the first of many. Structures assembled and aligned before being forcefully broken down, reduced to their smallest possible components, then re-assembled and re-aligned again. Countless times. And yet, if you were alive to see it, it would have felt like a moment's passing.
Not many were around during those early days. The universe was, for all its action and reaction, devoid of life in actuality. Humans, ever the chosen children, believed this fact made them special. A fault in intelligent design, perhaps, which spoke volumes on the nature of how "intelligent" that design could be.
Man would try, unsuccessfully, to rid the universe of chaos. Man would also try to rid the universe of order. Ultimately, they were more effective at ridding the universe of themselves, however, their failure would be observed throughout millennia. It would be simulated. Analyzed. Compared.
Humanity would create many branches in the tree of time. Those branches would be noted, when they were notable. Many would cease to exist far before they could be considered as such. This is and always has been considered the state of affairs.
Yet, for those few that fit the criteria, their events would be painstakingly recorded, backtracked from frayed ends by a great many eyes at the end of time. The BUREAUMANCER. Eyes which double as thin probes, a legion of fingers. It sends a command through these conduits and worlds bend to a single word:
"SUBMIT."
Narratives distort and refocus, minds manifest and disappear. Ideas emerge, whole plotlines erase. It utters again:
"COLLAPSE."
Loose ends cauterize at the site of amputation, old pathways are rewritten by emergent rules defining the boundaries of what remains. A final command rings out:
"PERSIST."
Outcomes vanish, risks are contained. Another world is contained.
All will be contained.
It peers down at the many paths below, expressionless. Another appendage extends from its body, a smooth limb ending on a rounded point. The arm bends, dozens of joints briefly visible as it snaps into an odd angle with calculated precision, pressing itself into the black wall adjacent its form. The stalk sinks into the material effortlessly, which wrinkles and folds inwards like dark fabric. With a click, the needle splits at its tip into a three-pronged claw, which rips a hole into the structure, revealing more darkness behind the black curtains.
The entity does not respond. Instead, the extremity moves on its own, disappearing into the hole and telescoping outward an unknown distance. It retracts suddenly, a number of items now enclosed within its grasp. The pale, thin hand deposits its holdings before a large circular feature on the outside of its body, a single, piercing eye manifesting within the curved bounds in response. The pupil dilates, inspecting its newfound treasures: a puzzle cube, a wooden cuckoo clock in the shape of a small two-story townhome, and a twisted steel tuning fork which hums lightly on its own. The witness above these items stares for some time, clock ticking loudly all the while.
An artificial voice then echoes through the empty chamber, this time not with a command, but a promise.
"NOUMENA'S NEARLY NASCENT NAISSANCE. NECKTIES TO NOOSES. NUMEN TO NEHEMOTH."
The clock chimes. It's midnight, somewhere. A tiny wooden canary emerges from the timepiece, chirping thrice before receding back into the safety of shelter.
A few minutes pass before the clock tolls the same midnight once again. After all, it is only the beginning.
ADMONITION
WILL RETURN
IN PHASE TWO