The night wind shrieks with a frantic trill; its blinding flurry pelts you with ash exuded from the pillars of smoke overhead. You trudge onward up the hill, surrounded by a grand woodland reduced to a ghostly, pallid gray, its once-green canopy now thick with soot from a bleeding sky.
Belabored vestiges of bullets howl in the somber gale, furiously picketing in momentary exchanges. Yellow-tinged flares radiate the skyscape, enriched by the coruscating light of the moon. Tumultuous, periodic detonations still thrive in the distance, shimmering in fleeting pulses.
The mangled detritus of a fence, evidently flattened by a titanic force, marks the path ahead. Beyond it, a featureless edifice rests—Isolated Arboretum Site-9808, the last standing Foundation facility for miles. It rises unevenly from the hilltop, an unexceptional structure that, perversely, appears to complement the bare, seared landscape now surrounding it.
Faint sensory lights actuate as you wearily approach the structure's entrance. Before you, an intricate timber door, meticulously hand-carved with undulations and darkened by a minute varnish of ash, waits like a familiar harbor. You don't need a keycard; the door is slightly ajar.
The somber night, like a well of ink, obscures your vision as you gaze through the sliver of the door. You hoist your pistol, absentmindedly turning it over for a moment, scrutinizing the semi-vacant magazine. With a moment's hesitation, you push the door open, your movements tight with worry but driven by purpose.
You take refuge in the unlit entryway, navigating an assortment of furniture. Rubble haphazardly clutters the compact hallways of the facility. You trudge through the begrimed halls in silence, save for the distant, periodic echo of artillery. A cursory examination of several rooms reveals no signs of recent activity. The faculty likely evacuated following the LUNAR HIEROPHANY, fleeing to the protective embrace of Biological Research Area-12.
Your leg, bloodied and broken, clings to your final vestiges of stamina as you proceed. A stained trail of blood residue takes you to an unmarked chamber branching off the main corridor. The egress door, which is of a conspicuous viridescent coloration, is unlatched and slanted forward.
You brandish your pistol, finger at the trigger, thumb quivering. Using the aluminum cylinder of your firearm, you slightly prod the door open, furnishing a clear view. Apprehensively, you scan the room.
There's shelving and furnishings haphazardly placed behind the door—a barricade. A broad aperture penetrates the roof, detritus dangling; a wash of silvery lunar light pours in, lending an enchanted air to the chamber.
Taking refuge in the room, you quietly shut the door behind you. Your breathing is shallow as you take off your rubber gas mask, the rank of carnage still obstructing the filter. The trail terminates promptly in the midst of the chamber, forming a viscous puddle.
You come to an abrupt, fleeting stop. The air itself seemed to thicken and pulse, a rhythmic pressure building and releasing in time reminiscent of the beating of a heart. A vibrant, living energy seemed to thrum from the very walls.
The tense atmosphere fades as your head slants upward, facing an atrium. Through a perfectly clean pane of glass, an ancient tree rises from a lush, vibrant undergrowth of flora. The stillness and immaculate order of the chamber are a stark, almost disorienting, contrast to the darkness encroaching from beyond. You stop, offering a silent, momentary tribute to its impossible beauty.
Next to the glass, you notice a lumber desk with a computer atop it. Approaching the terminal, you can clearly see the blinking light of the power button.
You take a seat and turn it on.
SCP FOUNDATION
Secure. Contain. Protect.™
|
ㅤ▶ENTER LOGIN CREDENTIALS: ㅤ▶ PASSWORD: * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ㅤ▶ USER ACCOUNT: EMP-a50267e4 |
|
Cryptographic signature translated. Credentials accepted. Welcome, [ERROR: DATA CORRUPTED]. I am Uniform-17.ai ("BOIRAC"). How can I assist you today? ㅤ▶ _ |
A slow, protesting creak from the bearer above causes you to stop mid-thought. Your gaze lifts, snagging on the rough, splintered edge of a protruding frame just visible in the gloom. Nailed to its surface is a desiccated placard, its once-crisp lettering and Foundation emblem faded with age and neglect. The stark, black letters remain legible: "SCP-9808."
With a curious and focused resolve, you turn to the computer.
▶ access file SCP-9808
FETCHING FILE [scpi-intranet/scp-9808/level-1/access-approved]
FILE FOUND. RETRIEVING 'SCP-9808 Clearance Level 1'
LOADING FILE: ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 30%
LOADING FILE: ███████▒▒▒ 70%
LOADING FILE: ██████████ 100%
…
DEPARTMENT OF HUMAN RESOURCES NOTICE
|
Pursuant to the Foundation Employee Wellness Program, in concert with the Anomalies low-risk standing, Foundation personnel may request temporary reassignment to SCP-9808. Appeals for transfer necessitate concurrence by a Multi-Foundation Coalition liaison. Unauthorized transfer requests will not be processed or added to the waiting queue. |
Pictured (L to R): SCP-9808 in Iteration GBNT0AZ1S2R ("Ad Astra") / SCP-9808 in Iteration OQZKBCVY7N5 ("London Calling") / SCP-9808 in Iteration KROSW1NB9TY ("Rub' Al-Khali").
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9808 is to abide in situ at its location of discovery. SCP-9808 is enclosed by a perimeter of chainlink fencing, with Isolated Arboretum Site-9808 (IAS-9808) constructed circumambient to the Anomaly to facilitate comprehensive surveillance, research, and containment protocols. Civilian admission to IAS-9808 is prohibited (CS-41D "NPS1 Private Property"), concurrently regulated by expedients outlined in standard Foundation amnestic suppression protocols (P073-A1 "IRON CURTAIN", P391-A3 "BLACKOUT").
Personnel are explicitly restricted from any form of direct or indirect interaction with SCP-9808. Violation of said parameters may result in faculty demotion, employment dismissal, and/or termination; refer to regulations outlined in Articles 1.5 and 2.9 of the Multi-Foundation Cross-Anomaly Research Concord for specifics. Any change in the condition of SCP-9808 is to be reported forthwith to all applicable faculty of 4/9808 clearance and above.
At present, material and budgetary expedients are directed in the furtherance of Operation: INERT GAZE2. Should containment require exigent resources, faculty are to notify the O4 Committee Body.
Description: SCP-9808 pertains to an Anomalous Quercus alba (White Oak) hardwood tree situated on the crown of a sparse foothill in the Monongahela National Forest in eastern West Virginia, United States of America. SCP-9808 constitutes the only known Multiversal Constant3 documented by the Multi-Foundation Coalition.
Accordingly, SCP-9808 is phenomenologically equivalent across all known iterations and manifestations. Cross-analysis with representatives of the Foundation Multiversal Consortium has regularly corroborated this observation. The core, notable properties of SCP-9808 are as follows:
- SCP-9808 invariably inhabits a planetary body where humanity originated.
- SCP-9808 is invariably located at ██°██'██.█"N ██°██'██.█"W is consistent with local analytic geometry.
- SCP-9808 invariably resides in a spatio-temporal region devoid of any appreciable human population within a 95.5km2 radius.
- SCP-9808 invariably constitutes a well-formed, healthy, and mature Quercus alba (White Oak), despite the potentially conflicting ecosystem and/or spatial context it inhabits.
- SCP-9808 invariably retains no sign of biological degradation derived from mundane or Anomalous phenomena.
- SCP-9808 invariably evinces a significant probabilistic Anomaly, whereby all exogenous phenomena will pose no threat to the entity's ongoing subsistence, irrespective of its origin.
- SCP-9808 is invariably discovered by a SCP Foundation iteration succeeding said organization's inception.
SCP-9808's chronological age cannot be determined, as doing so would entail felling and thereby neutralizing the Anomaly. Documentation recovered from Foundation precursor organizations and protohistoric Groups of Interest (GoI) suggests that SCP-9808 was first encountered by itinerant Paleo-Indian nomads in the 11th millennium BC. SCP-9808, in a manifold of recorded accounts, demonstrated indefinite viability independent of sunlight and exogenous water sources. The underlying mechanisms responsible for this sustained function are unknown.
Across all documented Multiversal iterations, SCP-9808 exhibits a consistent and Anomalous durability, showing no significant structural damage from external forces. Both mundane and Anomalous entities consistently display a marked aversion to interacting with or causing damage to SCP-9808, a phenomenon observed uniformly throughout all iterations. Said aversion is hypothesized to be the primary mechanism for SCP-9808's long-term survival. The observed behavioral response is triggered by SCP-9808's emission of cognito-memetic particulates. Said compounds appreciably influence the physiological homeostasis of proximate entities, modulating the production of neurotransmitters such as gamma-aminobutyric acid, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin.
The implicit ramifications associated with the defacement and/or neutralization of SCP-9808 are undetermined. Notwithstanding, the Foundation Multiversal Consortium has officially designated such actions as a paramount threat and is to be prevented by any means necessary.
The singular essence of SCP-9808 as a multiversal constant remains the subject of an ongoing investigation.
ADDENDUM 9808/I:
Discovery and Containment History
IAS-9808, subsequent to its modernization in 2000.
The final series of documentation received from the ASCI.
As indicated previously, the existence of SCP-9808 is invariably observed and documented across participant iterations within the Multi-Foundation Coalition. Notwithstanding, contextual data varies based on disparate iteration-specific factors. The local SCP-9808 instance was tentatively cataloged on August 14th, 1932, succeeding the SCP Foundation’s inception and subsequent admission to the Multi-Foundation Coalition. Attendant Coalition representatives had explicitly informed Administrator ██████ ████████ of the Anomaly, advising them to hastily seek it out.
The precise location of SCP-9808 was disclosed through previously classified documentation obtained during a series of organized document transfers associated with the consolidation of the Foundation and the American Secure Containment Initiative (ASCI). The document in question, a modified telegram sent by ASCI preliminary consultant Percival Dewitt, provided a detailed description of SCP-9808, including its specific geographic coordinates. The salutation of the telegram is as follows:
…enclosed herein is a map delineating the routes to the Anomaly of peculiar oak, a marvel that possesses an unmistakable beauty and allure, despite its unpretentious splendor. Should you wish to embark upon an investigation of the aforesaid entity, Colonel, I assure you, there is no cause for concern.
My Ovate compatriot, Darragh, has conveyed to me his profound experience of the tree, whose roots are of immeasurable length, protruding far beyond the very fabric of our solitary universe. Remarkably, he discerns no hostility nor any threats that it may pose to personnel or the mundane world at large —a most welcome contradiction, particularly given the peculiarities of Alleghania.
Due to the isolated geographical locale, logistical constraints, and relatively secure status of SCP-9808, no immediate actions were instituted to further locate or contain the Anomaly; the aforementioned telegram was retained in secure storage at Fort Chilhowie until November 24th, 1932, whereupon the final series of ASCI documents were relinquished to the SCP Foundation. Subsequently, investigative teams would rediscover the telegram and, utilizing it as a preliminary reference, would successfully locate SCP-9808 on December 7th, 1932.
Comprehensive containment protocols would be devised and instituted shortly thereafter. Succeeding the construction of IAS-9808 on March 24th, 1933, the Foundation would announce formal participation in both Operation: INTER GAZE and the Multi-Foundation Cross-Anomaly Research Concord.
ADDENDUM 9808/II:
Excerpts from Collected Documentation
Included below are selected passages from historical documentation that pertain to SCP-9808.
From an ethnographic novel of Iroquois oral narratives authored by 20th-century English historian Oliver Brown:
In an hour of binding sorrow, the hunter's heart became a roost of snared roots. He knelt, a weary contour, by the ancient oak, whose rough bark rasped against the vicious gales. "My child," The old tree's deep voice bellowed, "take it slow. Life's passage is brief, and time is a thief. You will unfurl like a wave, curling and graceful, boundless as the river's flow and the soft descent of rain. A melody awaits you, a spirit unbound. For now, primal kin, you must greet the coming sun."
From an incomplete manuscript drafted by 19th-century pastor Thaddeus Hothman.
…coming upon a great oak, unremarkable to the common eye, save for an intangible, sublime prominence. As I approached, a profound silence descended, not of absence, but of fullness. My anxieties, the burden of my sins, and the long road ahead all dissolved as mist before the leaves. I could not just hear my heartbeat, but the oaks as well. The sensation was not one of absolution, but of being held. This tree, I dare say, is a living prayer, its roots deep in the Lord's earth and its branches reaching for His grace. I knelt and felt the very presence of God in its stillness, a silent cathedral in the wilderness.
From the transliterated text of an esoteric grimoire within the Neo-Druidic tradition:
In the verdant heart of the Old Dominion's untamed wilderness, where ancient mountains cradle whispered secrets, rises a venerable sentinel. This ancient arboreal spirit, born of the Earth's deep slumber, has stood through countless epochs, its timeless presence a balm for those cordial souls of weary wanderers who seek broad solace in its shade.
From a journal entry penned by 18th-century peddler Silas Brooke:
29th of September, in the Year of our Lord 1792
Hark, in the Old Dominion, a land of highest peaks and endless, mist-clad forests, doth reside a stupendous Oak, a veritable king among the timbers. Some thirty years have passed since I first entered these ranges, plying my trade in furs, and in all that time, that venerable tree hath stood unmoved, a mute witness to the changes of the wilderness. Though the seasons do turn, and the surveyor's chain may alter all else in due course, its ancient presence abides.
I first made its acquaintance when my wife and children yet breathed, and we nourished a hopeful dream of a settled homestead. Its girth was already mighty then, and the river at its foot hummed with the same promise. But now, my family rests in the cold earth, their earthly sojourn passed like the fleeting light of a summer's eve. The tree remains, as ephemeral as the morning dew. My own sorrows, my own brief life, and its bitter end, are but a single, passing breath in the long, still sigh of the Oak.
This ancient, immortal one asks for nothing and gives all. It provides not a future, but a kind of permanence. I need not trouble myself with its fate, for its very being is tethered to the bosom of the earth itself, while my own is but a borrowed thing. I am a weary traveller whose feet grow heavy. The tree is a watchman, a sentinel of a time before my own, and a keeper of the ages that are to come. Thus, I continue my rounds, and when my own time comes and I have passed, this old friend shall yet stand. Its bark will remain strong, the river will continue its flow, and the grand and fearsome will of nature will bestow its solitary peace upon another wayfarer who passes by, as it has to me.
For a split second, the terminal flickers, shifting in tone and turning off. The sudden silence following the machine's failure was more jarring than any alarm.
Your now unfocused gaze, drawn by an irresistible dread, drifts to an aperture overhead.
There, suspended in the night sky, hangs a blighted moon. It is a distended abomination, its semblance contorted and aberrant like a festering tumor. The pearlescent facade heaves and writhes with an impossible, internal motion, the crust undulating like necrotic tissue. Immense, jagged fissures rupture across its tortured surface, from which a phosphorescent shroud of silver light oozes forth like a toxic exhalation.
From its corrupted figure sprouts monolithic, crystalline appendages that pierce the void, distorting the celestial landscape into a swirling, eccentric aurora seeping down from the heavens. A torrent of pale, beastly shapes crashes downward, assailing the Earth with the synchronized fury of a locust plague.
Where once there were familiar, diamond-dust stars, now there are only pinpricks of icy light. The very fabric of the night sky seemed to recoil under the moon’s hateful, malignant gaze.
Beneath its tortured crust, you saw—or imagined you saw—things skittering and seething, a teeming, frenzied life that defied the mundane. The sight was hypnotically repellent, an ancient, sinister spectacle that rooted you in place.
In the silence, your gaze meticulously traces the contours of the chamber. Survival is an unlikely prospect. Be it by these encroaching horrors or whatever waits for you outside, you know death will arrive soon. It will find you eventually.
Your resigned stupor was abruptly shattered by a sharp, electronic ping. The terminal whirred, its screen flickering back to life.
SCP FOUNDATION
Secure. Contain. Protect.™
|
▶ SCiPNET has encountered an unexpected error and/or internal issue. Please verify the integrity of the terminal system. Should problems persist, please contact technical support. Would you like to restore the previous page: y or n ㅤ▶ _ |
▶ y
RESTORING FILE [scpi-intranet/scp-9808/level-1/access-approved]
RESTORING FILE: ██████████ 100%
…
ADDENDUM 9808/III:
Containment Update
Effective February 14th, 1988, Dr. Benjamin Montiago is now acting in the role of HMCL Supervisor for SCP-9808, succeeding the passing of former HMCL Supervisor Dr. Maximilian Throndsen from a myocardial infarction. An impromptu progress briefing about the SCP-9808 research initiative was conducted by Dr. Nolan Guillebeaux4 with Dr. Montiago. The session was recorded, and a full transcript is provided below.
> VIDEO RECORDING STARTED <
| <MONTIAGO sits across GUILLEBEAUX at his workstation. There are multiple stacks of paper seated on an adjacent countertop beside GUILLEBEAUX's video recording device. The room is plain, bureaucratic — a space designed for data, not conversation.> | |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Hey, Ben. Sorry again about the wait. How are you holding up? |
| MONTIAGO | I'm fine, Nolan. Just… <Sighs> trying to wrap my head 'round the whole situation. Thanks for coming by the lodge, by the way. Needed that extra support. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | It was the right thing to do, my friend. I'm going to miss the old bat. There’s no rush, Ben, so if you need to take a raincheck and reschedule, just let me know. |
| MONTIAGO | No. No, I'm fine. Let's just… get this over with. |
| <GUILLEBEAUX reaches into an adjacent leather bag, extracting a sheaf of documents. They crinkle with a papery whisper as he lays them on the table.> | |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Don't worry, we'll go at your pace. For the record, can you explain what SCP-9808 precisely constitutes? |
| <MONTIAGO's voice is flat and without affect, as though he is reciting from memory> | |
| MONTIAGO | SCP-9808, at present, is the only identified Multiversal Constant present across all iterations. Such entails, by definition, a stable object, entity, event, and/or conceptual framework, observed to be equivalent across all documented iterations within the Multi-Foundation Coalition. An absolute fundamental of multiversal existence, so to speak. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | The description of SCP-9808 as a constant implies continuity—does this entail its existence at all points in time? |
| MONTIAGO | <Clearing throat> That is a possibility, though it remains unconfirmed. To the best of my understanding, some form of SCP-9808 has existed here continuously, in one manner or another. The records currently in our possession extend back several millennia, and among them are the journals and observations of individuals who, like myself, studied and documented the facets of SCP-9808. By my count, there have been ninety-five such observers of this so-called 'Sentinel of All,' each originating from a distinct historical era. It is not unreasonable to assume that others may have preceded them, long before any formal records were maintained. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | You referred to a 'Sentinel of All,' a name that appears in numerous investigative reports. Could you clarify its etymological significance? |
| MONTIAGO |
It's a moniker for SCP-9808, first denoted as such by a researcher of the PRIME iteration named Cato, describing it as "…a solitary, sempiternal Sentinel of All, standing watch over the heart's crumbling keep, a testament to the perennial morn." His tireless pursuit of knowledge regarding SCP-9808 resulted in numerous groundbreaking reports—some of which were covered in precedent interviews with Maximilian. Of all his work, Cato's disquisition Sentinel of All: An Analysis of SCP-9808 was his most impactful, though little more than stark, tantalizing references to its monumental significance have unfortunately endured. Subsequent researchers, struck by the name, either adopted it out of admiration or gave credence to it being the Anomaly’s informal title, and it has been identified thus ever since. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Are you aware of the Anomaly's origin? |
| MONTIAGO | Currently, no. It seems to predate the inaugural SCP Foundation by many hundreds of years. The first ever text referencing SCP-9808, that we are aware of, says "…born of ancestral silt, chthonic roots entwine continuum, bestowing a soft, consoling bond to worlds worn thin…". Regrettably, the temporal discrepancy between the PRIME iteration and our own indicates that the author of the text passed away over twelve millennia ago. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | That's interesting. I'm assuming these works have greatly improved the understanding of SCP-9808? |
| MONTIAGO | Well, I suppose. Admittedly, the documents primarily serve to validate established information, with a distinct and fresh methodology. As a result, they're beneficial for faculty members just starting, but their utility is otherwise exceedingly limited. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | So, as of current, have you divulged the specific causation which precipitates SCP-9808's manifestation? |
| <MONTIAGO looks up at the flickering fluorescent light affixed to the ceiling, his finger tapping the table in stressed intervals.> | |
| MONTIAGO | We… presently don't know the 'why' of it. Nor the 'how.' Nobody does. It just… was. From what we've garnered from the PRIME iteration, it was present from its outset, thereafter being observed across every successive iteration. Progress-wise, it's… <Chuckles weakly> quite troubling. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Troubling? You're having difficulties then? |
| MONTIAGO |
We've been having difficulties for decades, Nolan. Decades. Like many before me, I came to IAS-9808 intending to make definitive, scientific contributions for the betterment of humanity. But as far as I can tell, we've just been reciting the same old charade, over and over again, only with different window dressing. The same empty result, the same hollow routine. All our investigative consortiums spanning the Coalition, all the data we've scraped together, all the observations we've logged from those ashen, dead worlds… just a repetition. And for what? To perpetuate a quiet despair that creeps in with the awareness that our fleeting, fragile lives slip past us unnoticed. How can I steer a ship when we can’t even discern the waters just feet from our bow? It— it all feels like a wasted expenditure. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | So, you don't believe we can garner anything further from researching SCP-9808? |
| MONTIAGO |
No. Despite everything I’ve just said—no. Because as exhausting as it is, as cyclical and maddening and fruitless as it seems… SCP-9808 is still the only constant we’ve ever found. That alone makes it invaluable. Nonetheless, since the dissolution of the PRIME Iteration, and given our determinant material and technological constraints, a more in-depth investigation of the Anomaly is simply not possible. But we must press on regardless, wading against the current, yearning for a 'Sentinel of All' to pierce the veil of night. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Unexpectedly profound. <Clears throat> Alright. Is there anything else you might want to add? |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Actually, yes. We could benefit from fresh perspectives on our team. I’m not suggesting a complete reorganization of current members, but I’d like to explore whether it’s possible to enroll the Anomaly in the Foundation Employee Wellness Program. Would that be possible to implement? |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Of course. I see no reason why that wouldn’t be feasible. |
| <GUILLEBEAUX retrieves a sheet of paper, inscribing the request onto its surface.> | |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Thank you for your time, Ben. That should be all for now. I'll see you at the promotion party later tonight. |
| <MONTIAGO produces a measured nod, his attention focused on GUILLEBEAUX as he methodically gathers his personal effects and departs the room.> |
> VIDEO RECORDING END <
Following this interview, Dr. Guillebeaux would submit an application for SCP-9808 to be listed as a primary candidate for the Foundation Employee Wellness Program, an initiative designed to temporarily reassign research personnel to enhance occupational well-being and introduce novel analytical perspectives to ongoing, potentially stagnant research endeavors. SCP-9808 was tentatively approved for participation in the program based on its nonexistent mortality rate among associated staff and its phenotypic resemblance to mundane phenomena.
ADDENDUM 9808/IV:
List of SCP-9808 Iterations
By virtue of Operation: INERT GAZE, a multitude of SCP-9808 instances have been observed and cataloged residing in innumerable iterations comprising the Dead Zone5. For the sake of informational brevity, an assortment of select iterations, explicitly those comprehensively observed and considered significant by Operation: INERT GAZE, and their equivalent SCP-9808 instances have been appended below.
|
INSTANCE 9808-4B19CN92BFP |
|---|
| LOCATION: 4B19CN92BFP ("Fahrenheit"), Canonical Bundle Golf-Tango |
|
SUMMARY: Iteration 4B19CN92BFP suffered an XK-Class ("End-of-the-World") Scenario, precipitated by an Anomalous combustion admixed with unstable acroamatic effluence which swiftly radiated across the planet. The XK-Class Scenario was derivative of an Anomalous object, designated "The Hecatomb" by the iterations SCP Foundation equivalent. The Hecatomb was a modified human skull featuring a Greek inscription, ἑκατόμβη ('The Hecatomb'), on its exterior surface and retains an Anomalous, self-sustaining internal combustion. Discovered near Hama, Syria, the artifact was processed by Foundation faculty in 1996, thereafter being transferred to Site-522 for containment. Succeeding such, two amateur researchers would furtively undertake an unsanctioned, three-week testing deployment involving the provision of combustible materials to the Anomaly, leading to a pronounced increase in its internal temperature and thermic output. This volatile deluge would ultimately instigate an extensive containment breach, resulting in the compromise of the containment facility. During the breach, the fire would mix with the site's acroamatic waste materials, precipitating an intractable acroamatic combustion. This conflagration exceeded the Foundation's containment capacities, proliferating globally and subsisting for a duration exceeding one decade prior to undergoing spontaneous remission. Post-scenario analysis denoted a near-total extinction of terrestrial biological lifeforms in Iteration 4B19CN92BFP. Two principal exceptions were noted: SCP-9808 and its immediate biospheric cluster. SCP-9808 was wholly spared from the destructive conflagration, owing to the Anomaly's intrinsic properties. The surviving biospheric cluster, comprising both flora and fauna, was subsequently observed to migrate toward SCP-9808, indicating its function as a focal point for global ecological re-establishment. |
|
NOTES: While not particularly noteworthy, SCP-9808 both circumvented the incident and would subsequently develop and maintain a stable, self-sustaining ecosystem, warranting scientific attention. Overall, a rather exemplary showing of SCP-9808's properties. Dr. Montiago |
|
INSTANCE 9808-0KL316DTI57 |
|---|
| LOCATION: 0KL316DTI57 ("Gray Box"), Canonical Bundle Kilo-Xray |
|
SUMMARY: Iteration 0KL316DTI57 suffered an EK-Class ("Noöspheric Implosion"), precipitated by the sustained manipulation of the Noöspheric-Rhizome by the SCP Foundation with the intent of construing and conserving an ubiquitous state of perceived "Normalcy." Suceeding a ßK-Class ("Lifted Veil") Scenario—initiated by indeterminate causal vectors—a statistically significant portion of the global population demonstrated antagonistic opinions toward the SCP Foundation. In response, the Foundation would construct a suite of advanced eigenweapons, engineered to both neutralize belligerent memeplexes and disseminate Humanity- and Normalcy-preserving constructs within the Noösphere. As memetic constructs were systematically erased, intersubjective differentiation within the Noösphere declined, ultimately reaching a threshold wherein individual memetic matrices became functionally indistinct. Upon reaching this entropic threshold, the Noösphere underwent a catastrophic collapse, driven by the rapid concentration and subsequent implosion of memetic profiles. Such precipitated global neurological cessation, inducing both acute vegetative statures and neurofunctional arrest, ultimately effectuates a species-wide extinction due to sustained metabolic deprivation. In the scenario's terminal phase, those individuals with residual motor function converged on SCP-9808, forming a static perimeter. This behavior is attributed to the Anomalous persistence of its memetic construct post-Noöspheric dissolution. As the terminal ideational anchor, SCP-9808 induced involuntary migration, resulting in the accumulation of approx. ██████ cadavers around its base. Throughout such, SCP-9808’s foliage displayed transient sagging indicative of a somatic response but returned to its baseline stature post-scenario. |
|
NOTES: Quite a sobering scenario. Yet, it highlights SCP-9808’s self-sustaining nature—extending beyond physical parameters to include memetic integrity within the Noösphere. It is worth noting that, despite a Noöspheric implosion that should have rendered movement impossible to even conceptualize, individuals were drawn to SCP-9808 as if by instinct. Dr. Montiago |
|
INSTANCE 9808-6J4MB4PR8 |
|---|
| LOCATION: 6J4MB434PR8 ("Nameresu"), Canonical Bundle Mike-Zulu |
|
SUMMARY: Iteration 6J4MB434PR8 suffered a ZK-λ-Class ("Cosmic Fragmentation") Scenario, precipitated by the comprehensive incursion of malevolent Voru-Class ideoforms into baseline reality. However, attributable to the event’s nature, it precluded contemporaneous documentation. Iteration 6J4MB434PR8 exhibits pervasive Anomalous contamination, including aberrant material corrosion, high-magnitude reality distortion, near-total degradation of informational substrates, and virulent optical cognito-memetic hazards. Resident organisms are observed in states of airborne suspension or stasis, either exhibiting spectral distortion or full spatial erasure. While derivative artifacts, data, and structures remain extant—albeit significantly altered—no biological remnants of the originating citizenry are detectable. SCP-9808 is unaffected by the aforesaid Anomalous phenomena and is the sole entity within the iteration to retain functional integrity. Notably, its containment site is encircled by large spheres of absolute darkness which emit vocalizations evocative of a dimorphous expression; contact with said substance results in immediate destabilization into non-cognizable particulate matter. |
|
NOTES: Although SCP-9808 cognito-memetic particulates typically target organisms capable of neurotransmitter synthesis, the Anomaly appears to induce analogous effects in entities lacking such biochemical capacities. It seems the White Oak can soothe even wrath incarnate. Perhaps we can harness the particulates to assist in furthering Project AISA. At the very least, it should be leveraged for therapeutic use—PTSD rates among personnel have risen significantly in recent years, after all. Something to consider. Dr. Montiago |
|
INSTANCE 9808-7I5L1SNOH9N |
|---|
| LOCATION: 7I5L1SNOH9N ("Sāturnus"), Canonical Bundle Echo-Romeo |
|
SUMMARY: Iteration 7I5L1SNOH9N suffered an XK-⯣-Class ("Chroniton Wave") Scenario, precipitated by the irreparable failure of the Tachyon-Temporal Manipulator, a prototype hyper-dimensional temporal engine. The malfunction incited uncontrolled chroniton wave emissions, resulting in the progressive disruption of causal continuity. Within hours, chroniton contamination plateaued on a global scale, inducing the utter collapse of linear temporality. Temporal phenomena across all vectors—past, present, and future—began to co-manifest in stochastic, non-linear configurations. The iteration would subsequently enter a state of complete anachronistic disorder, characterized by simultaneous temporal overlap and unpredictable sequence fragmentation. SCP-9808 demonstrated total immunity to ambient temporal distortion. The entity maintained baseline temporal coherence and structural integrity despite pervasive chronological inversion and phase-shift oscillations observed in proximal matter. No deviation from standard age-phase metrics was recorded within SCP-9808. |
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NOTES: I had hoped this Iteration might offer some answers—just a few, maybe. It goes without saying: fortune passed us by. Time has no bearing on SCP-9808. It doesn't wither nor grow, suggesting it lacks a conventional genesis altogether. In truth, I've observed SCP-9808 for so long that the notion of an "beginning" for it has always been absurd. It simply is, a permanent fixture in a universe that is otherwise defined by constant change. My intuition insists that SCP-9808 isn't just a phenomenon to be perceived, but rather constitutes something so simple that we overlook it. I can't quite grasp what that might be, nor why I feel so certain of this, but it's a conviction I can't shake. And belief, in the absence of reason, may be the closest thing to truth. That must amount to something, right? Dr. Montiago |
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INSTANCE 9808-NW74MF9FJNC91 |
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| LOCATION: NW74MF9FJNC91 ("Supervivens"), Canonical Bundle Juliett-Whiskey |
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SUMMARY: Iteration NW74MF9FJNC91 suffered an K-𖤐-Class (“Reality Invasion”) Scenario, precipitated by the large-scale incursion of the iteration by an omnicidal SCP Foundation, derivative of adjacent Iteration NW74MF9FJNC90 ("Quisling"), who had heretofore undergone a modified ΠK-Class ("Directive Alteration") Scenario scenario and sought to extend their mandate into the vicinal iteration. The incursion arose from a CK-Class ("Resonance Deluge") Scenario, which induced widespread atmospheric and geophysical disturbances. This coalesced to form inter-multiversal conduits, which were later exploited by NW74MF9FJNC91 to enter the iteration. This iteration, distinguished by advanced technological capabilities and substantial numerical superiority, launched a synchronized, global assault characterized by the deployment of Anomalous objects and transhumanistic operatives intended to liquidate military installations and population centers. Despite the rapid and effective incapacitation of global terrestrial military capabilities, the incursion did not achieve the total eradication of coordinated resistance. Three months succeeding the invasion's onset, paranatural scientific institutions would engineer an armament capable of occluding the inter-multiversal conduits; said device would be employed in numerous highly successful surgical strikes by the SCP Foundation. The disruption of reinforcement pathways would facilitate a counter-offensive by the unified global defense command. Such would culminate in Iteration NW74MF9FJNC90 being systematically extirpated from Iteration NW74MF9FJNC91, with its final invasive elements neutralized succeeding the liberation of Site-19. Post-scenario, an estimated 97% of the global human population had perished due to the destruction of extant infrastructure, loss of institutional coherence, and the omnicidal pursuits of Iteration NW74MF9FJNC90. The surviving population would be geographically confined to pockets of intact infrastructure, with a subsequent diffusion into wider, uncontaminated regions. SCP-9808 was observed to be physically undamaged, except for minute, scant ash particulates now coating its bark. The Anomaly proved a popular point of interest for itinerant refugees and operatives, serving as a sanctuary for many, both during and after the scenario. One year post-scenario, a settlement entitled 'Hopebound' by denizens was founded approx. 96.4 km from the Anomaly. The settlement has established an annual festival to commemorate veterans of the Siege of ALPVNM-Area-12. Observations indicate that the ritual prominently features narratives of SCP-9808, serving as thematic motifs of human and ecological persistence. |
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NOTES: Throughout my years of research, I’ve come to see that SCP-9808 holds a quiet, human wonder. Beneath its canopy, the noise within fades, replaced by a peace that feels instinctive—wordless, yet deeply felt. We return not for answers, but for the stillness it offers: simple, unremarkable, and profoundly comforting. Perhaps there’s no mystery at all—just the solace of something that simply is. Dr. Montiago |
SCP FOUNDATION
Secure. Contain. Protect.™
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Attention ┈ SCiPNET Update ┈ ai.BOIRAC ▶ Hello again, USER SCiPNET has encountered an unexpected error and/or internal issue. Please verify the integrity of the terminal system. Should problems persist, please contact technical support. Would you like to restore the previous page: y or n ㅤ▶ _ |
▶ y
LOADING FILE: ██████████ 100%
…
ADDENDUM 9808/V:
DIRECTIVE KCS.RK4HZA
A gale batters the debased barricade near the entryway, as the resound masks the hollow passage. The earth-trembling thunder of distant conflict swelled, and with it, a creeping, unbidden sound that seeped from no earthly place—a low, electric thrum that drew the air taut with an unseen and intensifying dread.
In your ignorance, you continue reading.
The following system-wide bulletin was disseminated to all Foundation personnel to brief them on a significant emergent event and outline procedural compliance under Directive KCS.RK4HZA.
FROM: o5-council@foundation.scp
TO: LISTSERV[ALL-STAFF]
SUBJECT: Foundation Directive — KCS.RK4HZA
DATE: 14-OCT-2002
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To all members of the Foundation, Based on high-confidence telemetry from the Chrono-Entropic Boundary Scanner (CEBS)6, we can now solemnly validate that our iteration has transitioned into the Dead Zone. Within an indeterminate temporal window, this iteration is projected to endure a K-Class Scenario of extreme and irreversible magnitude. As you're likely aware, this is a grave circumstance. Preparatory protocols will be initiated in alignment with DIRECTIVE KCS.RK4HZA to minimize any scenario impact and preserve baseline operational continuity. The following measures are authorized for immediate execution:
The program will proceed under strict classification and operational security to ensure the Foundation's preparedness for high-risk containment scenarios. Facilities have been tasked with region-specific mandates to safeguard human populations. A bulletin outlining your updated directives will follow. Humanity will survive. Normalcy will be preserved. Consensus will remain intact. Issued under directive of the O5 Council, |
The terminal stutters—screen dimming, then flaring with unnatural clarity. Lines of text fracture midstream, reforming in jagged bursts as if rewritten by something not bound to syntax. You feel it then: a pulse in the air, static and sharp, threading through your skin like wire. It stirs something familiar, though you can't quite place it.
Outside, the wind howls against the barricade, but inside, the thrum has found rhythm—an arrhythmic chant, humming with a current of electricity, vibrating through the floor. You reach for the keyboard, but the page is restored before you touch it.
ㅤ
Dr. Benjamin Montiago, HMCL Supervisor, Multiversal Sciences
To the team I am leaving behind,
This is not a farewell I ever imagined writing, nor one I hoped you would have to read. We started as a team of explorers, united by curiosity and driven by the promise of discovery. Now, we are being split apart by something unseen—dwelling in deep, uncharted waters where silent horrors lie dormant, preparing for their eventual landfall.
Our research was always a race against time, but we never truly knew when the end would come. It's a bitter irony that our work, meant to illuminate the path forward, now serves only as a footnote in the long research of SCP-9808. As many of you are reassigned to various projects, the remaining ones who will stay are the anchor and the promise that the work we've accumulated can, and will, persist. For better, or for worse.
I know the task ahead of you is different. It lacks the dramatic urgency of ours, the grand, terrifying scale. Your work will be quiet, methodical, and simple. You will tend to the basic necessities, maintaining the flickering lights while we venture into the dark. It is a burden, I know, to be the ones left idly, watching others prepare for the setting sun, but please, do not see it as less important. You are the heartbeat of what is left, the keepers of our decades of progress, whatever that may amount to.
We, those many being transferred, are carrying a heavy responsibility, but I confess, my heart aches more for those of you who stay. Our farewell is one of a desperate mission, an act of final defiance. Yours is one of quiet sacrifice. It is a more profound and courageous act than any of us will ever have to perform. Still, I confess a hushed envy—I long to remain with SCP-9808, to linger beneath its canopy and feel the hush of its embrace.
I will miss the small, ordinary moments more than anything. The late-night caffeine-fueled research studies, the absurd theories we shared during lunch, those lazy summer afternoons we sauntered in the outlying forest. These are the small, beautiful details that make up life, and I am grieving their loss. I am grieving for the future we all imagined together, the one filled with more discoveries, more celebrations, and the simple, ordinary passage of time.
I wish I could say more. I wish I could promise a reunion, a future where we compare our notes and bask in the calming misty tides of the Appalachians. But the truth is, I can't. So instead, I will leave you with a different kind of promise. The work we do now, we do not just for ourselves, but for all of humanity. Every calculation, every minute, every desperate attempt will be a tribute to our quiet tenacity. You will be in our thoughts as we face what comes next.
Take care of one another. For those departing, offer SCP-9808 a final, heartfelt farewell. I hold hope that we’ll meet again—whole, unharmed, and soon. And if not… then let it be on the other side, where even silence has meaning.
The buzzing swells—no longer a background hum but a tyrant in the air, a pressure that clings to your skull like a wet cloth of static. It commands now, not suggests. You pivot toward the side window, not out of curiosity but compulsion, as if some buried instinct has stirred and taken the wheel.
Beyond the glass, etched in silhouette against the low, humming haze of the night sky, the structure stands. Tall. Gaunt. A lattice of steel and silence, masquerading as a radio mast. But you know the lie it wears. You know its name. You know its function.
You helped bring it into being.
The unfinished Phase Array Resonance Induction Tower. Not a transmitter. Not a beacon. A scalpel masquerading as scaffolding. A weapon designed not to burn, not to shatter, but to unmake. It targets the intangible—the memetic, the conceptual. It aligns, tunes, and then erases. Not with violence, but with precision. A silent absolute annihilation.
The circumstance must be dire if they are initiating the weapon, aware of its critical status.
The following is a transcript of a conversation between Dr. Guillebeaux and Dr. Montiago, upon the former's return to IAS-9808 in 2002, before his permanent transfer to Site-55. Dr. Guillebeaux initiated dialogue with Dr. Montiago once the latter finished decommissioning his former workstation and organizing scientific documentation.
> VIDEO RECORDING STARTED <
| <A muted click breaks the silence, followed by the low hum of machinery. A brief sequence of electronic beeps pulses, then fades on its own. GUILLEBEAUX stands adjacent to MONTIAGO in the corridor, posture and orientation indicative of readiness.> | |
| MONTIAGO | Green light’s blinking… alright, seems we're set. Let's get this going, Nolan—what’s been weighing on you? |
| GUILLEBEAUX | With our transfers coming up, I get the feeling this might be our last real chance to talk. My experience with SCP-9808 has been short and distant, but yours has been one of prolonged, mechanical analysis. Your insights would provide a necessary final chapter to the Anomaly file—and for me, a meaningful bit of closure—before we go our separate ways. |
| MONTIAGO | You've never struck me as someone to ask such a question, given how resolute you've always been. As for SCP-9808, I wish I could impart a satisfying conclusion to the matter. Unfortunately, the research framework has remained static, yielding consistently repetitive results. Observations from the Dead Space are the best evidence we have, yet they always lead to the same result. They either provide insignificant details we already know or simply mirror the perceived, simplistic interpretation of SCP-9808. |
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<…> |
The tower stirs, its hum rising from the ground like a buried heartbeat. Blue light snakes through its frame, intensifying until the structure glows with a sharp, electric aura. At the crown of the intricate tower, a vast, glowing spheroid began to bloom, its soft light expanding with the deliberate slowness of a blooming flower.
Winged humanoid apparitions descend on the device, swarming like moths to a flame. The bright tinged of bullets intensifies, piercing the night sky, felling many of the beasts.
The buzzing becomes symphonic—controlled, deliberate. The tower is no longer dormant; it has been prepared to act. As you watch the spherical glow expand, you feel yourself begin to unthread just observing it.
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<…> |
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| GUILLEBEAUX | What do you mean? |
| MONTIAGO | Well… <Pauses> how would you describe SCP-9808? |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Well, its appearance is candid, yet it projects an immediate and profound stature. It's like observing a senior family member, someone you know carries the weight of innumerable stories. |
| MONTIAGO | Yes, exactly. It’s interesting, isn’t it? The pull of the tree is fascinating. A familiar repose, a deep comfort; unless informed, you wouldn't even consider it to be an Anomaly. It feels ancient and intimate, drawing you in like a memory you can't quite place. In particular, I wonder about the people who seek SCP-9808. What kind of soul, starving for meaning, could be fed by the promise that only SCP-9808 can offer? |
| GUILLEBEAUX | I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps… perhaps it's for those who seek comfort and familiarity—a harbor in the midst of a storm. |
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<…> |
Then, without warning, the static noise ceased—snapped out of existence like a severed wire. In its place, a heartbeat echoed: slow, deliberate, but unmistakably familiar. You turned toward the sound and found only SCP-9808, still and waiting, its presence magnetic.
It beckoned without movement, its silence more persuasive than spectacle. You hesitated, reluctant to leave the view beyond—the last flickering memories of what is likely to be your life. But the chamber’s quiet gravity pulled you in.
Your eyes lingered on the terminal screen, where the final video continued. If this was the end, you wanted to meet it listening to another soul. You stepped through the containment door, and as it sealed behind you, your fear dissolved like mist.
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<…> |
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| MONTIAGO |
Correct. Those itinerants, burdened by weary souls, are in search of a place to find rest—a sanctuary to continue their journey or just a space to confront their own end. SCP-9808 embodies that essence; it's ingrained in its nature and purpose. Honestly, they’re really not so different from you and me. Many who find their way to IAS-9808 carry unseen weights. Whether they arrive by choice or through the Wellness Program, within them brews a quiet storm. Here, they discover deep connections, a refuge where they can rest, and the warmth of sharing their stories with those who truly understand. In all my years, I have never seen anyone enter IAS-9808 and leave in a diminished state. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | I see what you mean. |
| MONTIAGO | Those very people arrive to find SCP-9808 poised to welcome them. Beneath its serene canopy lies a sanctuary—not entirely free of peril, yet softened in its embrace—a refuge from the heavy burdens that cling to their souls. These weights are granted a place to rest, not vanishing but acknowledged in their presence. SCP-9808 listens with an attentive silence, and within that stillness, transformation begins to blossom—not within the Anomaly itself, but in those who seek solace beneath its branches. There, they encounter peace, respite, and space for reflection. |
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<…> |
You step toward the oak, each footfall stirring the grass beneath you like vellum touched by reverent hands. The air grew hushed—not emptied, but attentive—as if the earth itself had paused to listen. SCP-9808 stood still, yet its presence inclined gently, not in gesture but in perception, as though it had long awaited your arrival.
At its roots, you stopped. The burdens you bore did not vanish, but they shifted, as if acknowledged by something older than sorrow. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in slow, lunar threads, catching on the bark like breath on old stone. And the silence that gathered around you was not void—it was a crossing, a quiet summon.
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<…> |
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| GUILLEBEAUX | I understand. While I've spent a significant amount of time here, my role has always been global—documenting and regulating Foundation facilities, research protocols, and even incident aftermaths. Admittedly, throughout the years, I have often yearned to return to IAS-9808, converse with you, and visit SCP-9808. But I would not often consider the meaning of the oak, nor what a place like this means to those who find it. Maybe… there is something more to it, though. |
| MONTIAGO | What do you mean? |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Ben, truth be told, humanity often finds quiet reassurance in the presence of simple, unchanging things. While the extraordinary can inspire us, it’s the familiar that truly sustains us—a steady rhythm that allows life to progress without chaos. My time spent in numerous plain, unremarkable Foundation facilities has taught me how oddly consoling that can be. This preference for consistency isn’t born from complacency; rather, it arises from a deep-rooted desire to exist in a place of ease, in a calming and intimate status quo. |
| <Both men pause> | |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Perhaps… perhaps that’s all it is, Ben—a quiet promise: solace in sameness, familiar and patient. No matter how much we splinter, something remains. When everything begins to unravel—when our world threatens to tear apart and chaos encroaches on the life we strive to uphold—SCP-9808 will be there, ready to mend what it can. That invisible anchor, gentle in its touch yet unwavering in its support, guides us through life’s heaviest moments. |
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<…> |
You lift your hand with the cautious reverence of one approaching a relic, keeping a courteous gap as if intimacy might shatter a sacred bond. A bodily resistance rises—every fiber of you a dissenting voice urging retreat, a small chorus that forbids your fingers from grazing that weathered skin. The alert strikes swiftly and powerfully, as though an invisible sentinel has grasped your limb and compelled it back.
Then, the protest dissolves into silence, abrupt as a tide receding, and the tree answers your reach not with threat but with an almost deliberate concession. The tree does not strike or rebuke; it yields, bending an ancient rule. Your palm meets the bark, and in that cool, rough communion, there is a soft acquittal, a profound understanding.
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<…> |
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| MONTIAGO | <He smirks, stifling a laugh.> Poetic as always, Nolan. |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Hey, you can't say you're not either. Remember that time when you first became an HMCL supervisor and I had to interview you? You were pulling out all that 'Sentinel of All' jargon. Oh, and don't forget about all your observation reports - and yes, I read them. I told you I wanted to visit the IAS-9808, didn't I? |
| MONTIAGO | Hey- that's not- I was trying to… oh, screw off, Nolan. Even if I find my routine satisfying, it can get a bit dull. Can you blame me for wanting to <He gestures with his hands> spice it up just a little? |
| <Both pause, locking eyes for a moment, before sharing a lighthearted chuckle, smiles spreading across their faces.> | |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Say, is it plausible that we will one day understand SCP-9808? |
| <MONTIAGO shrugs slightly> | |
| MONTIAGO |
Perhaps. It’s unlikely that we’ll see it in our lifetime, iteration, or even canonical cluster. But… somewhere, someday, something will emerge. Fate won't give it up that easily, though. We are scavengers masquerading as scientists, sifting through the debris in search of insights that might hold value. Don't worry. Somewhere, someone will perceive things differently. They'll discover what we've overlooked—something truly remarkable. And when that moment arrives, every setback we faced will have been worthwhile. Because we kept the lights on. We kept watching. We didn’t waver. For now, though, we must push past our reluctance and brace ourselves for what is to come. |
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<…> |
The tower's light, as if seized by a profound and instantaneous revelation, gathered itself in a single, breathless moment before it uncoiled, a brilliant and sudden spear cast into the waiting darkness toward the plagued moon. Then, with a searing flash, the tower was utterly extirpated, replaced by a brilliant discharge of blue light.
The blast produced an adjacent, immense expanding light. A furious bloom of cerulean brilliance which bled into impossible colors, tearing the sky apart. The horizon ignited, and for a breathless instant, the world stood still, suspended in the glare of something ineffable and immeasurable.
The blast surged toward you, not flickering nor flinching but swelling with an energy that felt like the cosmos itself straining against the confines of its mortal vessel. The air shimmered, distorted by energy so palpable, it seemed to warp the essence of reality itself. In a heartbeat, it enveloped you, but its embrace felt like an eternity, an infinite expanse of time as you lingered in the acceptance of it all.
Time seemed to stop. You watched as your surroundings evanesce. First, the periphery went—the mundane details of a lamp, a rug, a photograph. Then, the foundation itself, the walls and ceiling, and the floor, surrendered to an indescribable eraser. And with each vanishing piece of the material world, a corresponding piece of your memory dissolved. Your mind, once a crowded attic of locations and moments, became a clean, echoing chamber. Only the sight of a certain tree, its bark a known texture, its leaves a known shape, remained as a single island of memory in a vast ocean of forgotten things.
You gaze at the tree—at least, you think you do. The concept of eyes has slipped beyond recall, a forgotten mechanism. Yet perception remains. In the endless sweep of pale blue light, only you and the tree endure, solitary forms adrift in a boundless, luminous void.
For a moment, it seems to speak.
And you understand.
Then, gently, you close your eyes.
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<…> |
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| <A profound silence lay between the two men. The overhead lights, no longer glaring, now produced a low, gentle hum, while the ventilation’s steady whir filled the chamber like a distant exhalation. MONTIAGO shifts his gaze to a distant window. There, the rising sun’s light spread over the Appalachian mountains, gilding the mist-filled hollows in pale gold and dusky blue.> | |
| GUILLEBEAUX | Come, let's walk while the morning sun is rising. Before everything unravels, let us give one last farewell to the ordinary. |
| MONTIAGO | I'd love to, my friend. |
> VIDEO RECORDING END <
With an absence of thunder, the flash of existence arrived. Not of white light, but a blooming quiet.
Your body is no longer yours, only a memory of a shape.
Your bones unravel to mist, neither dissolving nor breaking, but simply ceasing to be.
You feel no pain, only the gentlest dissolution.
Your blood does not weep; it forgets its own flow.
Your heart does not stop; it is unthought, unheard.
The very concept of you is being meticulously unstitched, thread by thread, like a great tapestry.
And in that vast unmaking, a serenity settles. There is no struggle, no reaching for a hand that is no longer there, but only a letting go, a loosening of the final knot.
The memories that made you a person—the echoes of laughter, the sting of tears, the warmth of a loved one's hand—do not vanish, but dissolve into the ether, becoming part of the quiet hum that fills the widening absence of self.
You are the space where the tapestry once was, the silence where the song has ended, but the melody lingers on.
Your last breath is not a gasp, but a sigh of relief.
Your final thought is not a question, but a knowing.
The end of a life is not a tragedy, but a closing of a well-read book.
You do not sink into darkness, but simply become it.
You understand now—completely, without question. The veil has lifted. And so, you wait, quietly, beside SCP-9808, for whatever comes next.
And what remains of you sings a hymn of peace everlasting.
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