How could four people who witnessed the same event come to such radically different conclusions?
Site-203
Director Talbot's office
19:50 pm
(Director Talbot is seated at his desk, carefully studying a report. After a few minutes, he presses a button on his desk telephone.)
Talbot: Silverberg, could you come to my office, please?
Silverberg: Yes, sir. Be just a moment.
(Talbot steeples his fingers, sitting in contemplative silence. A middle-aged red-haired woman, identified as Senior Researcher Moira Silverberg, enters his office three minutes later.)
Silverberg: You asked to see me, sir?
Talbot: Yes, be seated.
(Silverberg sits down.)
Talbot: I just received a notice of my report on a new anomaly from Overwatch. I was hesitant to add it to the database, since all the information we have seems unsatisfactory.
Silverberg: Was it one of ours?
Talbot: Yes. The anomaly in question was scheduled for transfer, but it was accidentally terminated before the process could be completed, and the Council wants to know how and why.
Silverberg: And we don't have any records besides this report?
Talbot: No. Apparently, the anomaly disabled all electronic devices during its breach, which included audiovisual recordings. It was also responsible for the death of at least one personnel: Miss del Rio, of Maintenance.
Silverberg: At least one? We don't have an exact count?
Talbot: Not confirmed; I'm still waiting on that.
Silverberg: All right, but I don't know what I have to do with this.
Talbot: I'd like for you to be my impartial observer. I'm going to conduct separate interviews with everyone involved, and I need a neutral party to be a sounding-board.
Silverberg: I see. How many were involved?
Talbot: We only have four witnesses.
(Silverberg sighs.)
Silverberg: So this could either be very easy or very complicated. Well, I'll help out to the best of my ability.
Talbot: I appreciate that. Here's what we have on the anomaly itself.
(Talbot slides a folder labeled "Unregistered Anomaly-872" across his desk. Silverberg opens it.)
Item Number: URA-872
Object Class: Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: The remains of URA-872 are stored in Lab B2-12 of Site-203. Personnel accessing Lab B2-12 must be accompanied by at least two other agents, and all data must be recorded on paper. Further study of URA-872 is pending Overwatch approval.
Description: URA-872 was an adult male Elephas maximus indicus, with multiple trunks and tusks. Its mitochondrion was able to produce adenosine triphosphate (ATP) capable of acting as electroreceptors, as well as enabling electric organ discharges. It reportedly used this to evade predators.
Following its discovery and subsequent capture in Arunachal Pradesh, India, it was temporarily relocated to Site-203, where it was scheduled for a permanent transfer to Wilson's Wildlife facilities. A breach occurred prior to its relocation, whereby all electrical equipment in a thirty-meter radius was disabled, [PENDING] member(s) of Site-203 personnel was/were killed, and the anomaly was terminated. Investigation of this incident is ongoing.
Surviving Imagery of SCP-L872
Silverberg: Seems fairly standard, if a bit sparse. Now I understand why you were hesitant with the report. So who will you be seeing first?
Talbot: [DATA UNAVAILABLE] Yaga.
Silverberg: I'm not familiar with them.
Talbot: They started out in Thorvald's somnology department before they were transferred to biology under Eames. Then there was an…incident that we're all familiar with.
Silverberg: (scoffs) Isn't that a can of worms. So I'm guessing the new biology director…
Talbot: Motoki Shimada.
Silverberg: …Took Yaga under their wing, and this anomaly was a "cut your teeth and wet your feet" assignment.
Talbot: More or less. Yaga volunteered to oversee the transfer. Wanted to advance, get some experience. A very ambitious go-getter.
(Silverberg smirks.)
Silverberg: Hm, just like every other Junior I've worked with. They typically get in over their head, but at least this Yaga's alive to talk about it.
(Talbot nods, pushing a button on his telephone.)
Talbot: We're ready for Mx. Yaga now.
(Several seconds pass. A young researcher, bone thin with dark hair, enters the room.)
Yaga: Morning, sir. Uh, Doctor, uh…
Silverberg: Silverberg.
Yaga: Right, right, sorry. Uh, pleased to meet you. (they shake hands)
(Yaga sits down, casually cracking their knuckles.)
Talbot: I heard you were placed in Medical following the incident.
Yaga: Uh, yes sir, I took a blow from the, uh, anomaly during the confusion. Just some first-degree burns here and there, and a bit of tissue damage. They cleared me, though; I'm feeling better. (they smile thinly)
Talbot: That's good. I'll try and make this quick. Before we begin, could you please state your name and department for the record?
Yaga: Uh, yes sir. Junior Researcher [DATA UNAVAILABLE] Yaga, biology. I volunteered for the…ah…you know, the thing.
Talbot: Thank you. Now, in your own words, could you please recount the events of October 18th?
(Yaga takes a deep breath.)
Where would you like me to begin? What did I do before work or…? No, I don't believe it's relevant. For the record, I slept overnight in one of the community units so I didn't need to travel before such a big project. Well, not big, but a first major migration for an SCP object such as this. Anyway, I’m suggesting there’s a record of my activities leading up to the containment breach.
So, my shift began as normal. I was present mostly to oversee and instruct some of the procedural activities. I did oversee the sedation of the anomaly, but admittedly this was all admin work. It is by all appearances an elephant, so the transfer procedures were more or less analogous to ordinary elephant transportation. Of course, with the exception of a mostly plastic transportation and containment chamber.
Poor thing. Sorry, I need a moment to think. You know there's all this talk about the elephants going extinct? Was it the grey elephant that was declared officially gone? Sorry, sorry. It's just that we'd never seen a species like it, and it isn't like there are animals capable of electrogenesis. Electric eels, for instance, just obviously not to the scale of…this. A bit of understatement actually. I still can't feel my arm from that blast. The surgeon mentioned that I’ll be numb for a while to come. But the truth of it is how I sometimes wonder how to decide what is normal, and what is abnormal. Like, the Greenland shark can live for hundreds and hundreds of… no wait sorry. To cut my ramble short, I was very keen to see the object transferred into the care of Wilson's. It's a shame.
Uh, so what happened next? The anomaly had to be hoisted upside down by its legs once it had been put to sleep. Perfectly standard for transferring an elephant, but there was the added assumption that it wouldn't electrocute us or any of our equipment whilst unconscious. I should clarify that this was all based on past observations. Whilst alert, it routinely struck personnel it had taken issue with for whatever reason. Nothing lethal, we just couldn't afford an incident.
Actually, just on that, I think it loathed Mallory Stewart. Not to speak ill of the dead, I mean that was a terrible way to go. The object just seemed unnerved by Dr. Stewart. Whenever he entered the containment area, the elephant went wild and the air became charged. Once, it struck this extraordinary bolt towards Dr. Stewart when he lingered too close. Fortunately it missed. Usually people who the elephant disliked got a gentle warning shot, or a visible justification for the Object's anger. Stuff like denying it extra food or invading its personal space. This mostly results in what I can imagine as teasing. Little static shocks to startle whoever.
Even when they were in the room opposite, it was like the anomaly knew. It became irritable, lost its appetite. It was because of this we anesthetized it whenever we couldn't cater to its preferred personnel.
Is this at all relevant? Oh, what was my view of Stewart? Uh, well we didn't talk often. There was something a little odd about them. He kept to himself beyond relevant work-discourse, rarely spoke during lunch, and I never once saw them eat or drink. Not even water. It only stuck out to me after working a 12-hour shift with him. Not anything to keep his energy up, and he simply implied he worked better “without needing any of it.” Most of our co-workers said “He was doing the bare minimum to keep alive.” Just bullying him really. We’re all adults, why bother him? I made sure to include Stewart, make idle chat, but he'd just sit and hardly ever respond. Though they eventually semi-regularly began sitting with me at lunch.
The elephant ironically didn’t mind me. Not sure why. I didn’t try to bond with it anymore than the other junior handlers did. Who doesn't love elephants? I was told this was noted in its behavioral logs, though I never saw them myself.
Though at times I needed to excuse myself from its presence. I got a migraine whilst working with it, with no clear cause. After a couple days, I couldn't go without an attack. It was a surprise, as I don't frequently get migraines. Just this pounding pressure building behind my eyes and gnawing into my head, like something wanting the burst. Horrible. I didn’t want to complain, so I had a couple Panadols before every shift. I thought it was the workload, new hours and everything. I should have reported this, but I failed to do so.
Anyway, the incident.
The elephant was already sedated, suspended mid-air by the crane. The chamber was sealed, the transfer team was in position. I was reviewing the checklist when Stewart entered the containment chamber. No warning. No clearance. I still don’t know why. They weren’t rostered. I’d never seen him so lively. He seemed so passionate about something, pushing past staff all to get close to it.
The moment they stepped inside, the elephant twitched. I remember thinking, "that’s not supposed to happen." Sedation should have left it completely inert. Then it opened its eyes. Immediately, the atmosphere felt electrified. Everyone’s hair stood on end, and I could taste a metallic tang in the air. Then it began thrashing against the restraints. Security was suddenly divided between an elephant threatening to drop and Stewart crazed to reach the anomaly.
The change in air didn’t take much of an explanation; everything was happening so quickly, so I can't be sure how many of us started running for the exit. I should have ran, but then the roof began to sparkle and I just froze up.
And then came this sound. A cable snapped followed by a rumble. I think I recall a scream? The moment the elephant hit the ground, everything went white. Sorry, let me just have a drink. Thank you. So at this point my statement gets a little strange. Please stop me if it's too off topic, I keep rambling. It may have just been a dream, but under the circumstances it could be relevant.
I remember the pain that followed. I felt hot and I recall feeling my clothes catching fire. My head felt like there was a mallet pounding against the inside of my skull until it split open and suddenly the whiteness peeled away.
I was standing in a vast, flowing plain of what resembled milk. It was endless, splashing against my knees. The sky above was a roiling thunderstorm, the clouds almost black. The lighting consisted of flashes of indigo, or purple. Then the clouds parted. Behind the clouds was a single purple star. The landscape became bathed in this sickly light. Just various shades of purples and blues or indigo. Like a giant ultraviolet light.
Most strange of all, it was like this star saw through me. Through everything. I felt my thoughts unravel. Like blood dripping from a wound. I think I just kept staring back until I saw through it.
Then the milky sea began to churn. Faster and faster. At this point, it also began to rise. Above, like a mountain, suddenly rose this gigantic skull of an elephant. Palm leaves rained from the sky over it and I cried. My heart heaved for something, and I still can’t describe what that is. The current continued to increase, and without anything to hold onto, I was swept away towards the skull. I screamed, but then my lungs just got filled by the ocean. It tasted like ice. I tumbled blind until I slammed against something hard and felt myself splinter into pieces.
And then I woke up.
I couldn't move because of the pain. There were people around me, my vision was too blurred to make them out, and they'd fixed something to my face to help me breathe. Smoke filled the air as someone began ripping away at charred bits of clothing from me. My eyes began to adjust, I managed to turn my head as I was desperate to ground myself. I think I saw all that was left of Stewart. This shadow cast against the ground, smoke still hissing from it. Ridiculous. Nobody deserved to be incinerated. Then I think I passed out again, shortly after they placed a shock blanket over me.
What I find most strange is my own name. Whenever someone tries to say it aloud, there’s this tiny break in the sound, like a pause in the middle of their sentence. Even when I say it. All since I got struck down. I’ve tried to write it down, or watch films with it and it's the same thing. Blank. Are people forgetting about me?
Doctors said I had been unconscious for seven minutes, and dead for three. That I’d suffered cardiac arrest and was revived on site, by a Doctor Ali. I'll need to send them flowers.
I still can't get over the incident. My memory feels like a mess too. My name itches whenever I think about it. Also that stupid dream. I want to assume that there's an ordinary explanation for all of this. You know, thinking on it, I believe that thing wasn’t what they appeared. Elephants are sacred, or something like that. I don't know.
What happened to its body? Have I been any help?
Junior Researcher Yaga in Recovery
Talbot: Thank you, Yaga; that will be all. You needn't concern yourself with its remains. You're dismissed.
Yaga: Sir. (They stand and leave the room.)
Talbot: Thoughts, Silverberg?
Silverberg: I'd like to withhold my opinion for now.
Talbot: (He opens up a file on his computer.) According to Shimada's follow-up report, "Yaga has since exceeded nominal results in the annual Standard Examination of Personnel Extrasensory Perception. It should be noted that Yaga neither expressed nor displayed any paranormal or extrasensory perception before the incident with URA-872." Shimada goes on to say that "investigations of this emergent aspect of Yaga and their relation to URA-872 are underway".
(He looks at her with a neutral expression. There is a moment of silence before Talbot clears the file away.)
Talbot: Just some extra context. None of our other witnesses experienced this development.
Silverberg: You didn't confirm the loss of Stewart, sir.
Talbot: That's because Mallory Stewart is still alive.
(Talbot hands a paper to Silverberg, pointing to a section. It lists Researcher M. Stewart as successfully transferred to Site-108. Silverberg turns pale.)
Silverberg: This happened…
Talbot: During the breach. Stewart was en route when it happened.
(Silverberg sighs, shaking her head.)
Silverberg: Let's just move on. The report mentioned a transfer to Wilson's. Was Beta-4 involved in any of this?
Talbot: Yes. Unfortunately, only one of them was near the anomaly when it was terminated. Since you mentioned it, I may as well interview her next.
(He presses a button on his telephone.)
Talbot: Could you send Miss Inglebard in next, please?
(Nine seconds pass. A young woman of average height with dyed purple hair, wearing glasses and the standard uniform of Beta-4, enters the room. She stands at attention.)
Inglebard: You sent for me, sir?
Talbot: Yes, take a seat.
(she sits)
Talbot: Before we begin, could you please identify yourself for the record?
Inglebard: Yes, sir. Mobile Task Force Beta-4 operative Hortense Inglebard, callsign "Lions". Usually I go by "Tess".
Talbot: Thank you. Now, in your own words, Miss Inglebard, could you please describe the events of October 18th?
We got a call about a transfer two days ago, so we headed off after getting the details. I thought it was odd that a payload picked up in India woulda been taken here, seein' as how there's plenty o' Sites a lot closer, but Nat said that — I mean, the Cap'n said the bosses didn't tell her nothin' about that, and not to worry, seein' as how it wasn't our job to ask questions like that. So I just shrugged and let it go. This was a living animal, and the Foundation wanted it transferred to Wilson's, so Beta-4 was called in to facilitate it, simple as that.
There was five of us total, me and three others, plus the Cap'n. Normal-size unit for this sorta thing. It was business as usual for the most part: check in, get debriefed, maybe shoot the breeze with everyone while they escort us to its pen — the cell, I mean. The lights flickered on and off every so often while we were heading over, but we figured that was normal. We already knew what it could do, so no worries. Then you and your people came over and debriefed us again, and Nat asked about… Sorry, we're all pretty informal around each other. Beta-4, I mean.
(Talbot assures Inglebard that she can speak in her own words.)
Right. Well, she asked what your contingency was if the animal breached. You said — this is what she told us — you said things like darts, snares, lures. (laughs shortly) Nat pulled out a vial of elephant musk, I guess from a female, and dangled it. She said that Wilson's uses it to calm their bulls down whenever they get rowdy, and figured it might come in handy here. Well, the lights were still on the fritz, so Nat tells us to turn our headlights and flashlights on, just in case. Your people escorted us along with our lights bobbin', and we finally get to the pen. The animal's calm, all is normal. We feed it a bit, give it a drink, make it feel at ease. I just stood by on alert. Felt a little useless, to be honest. But then we get it out, no issue.
Look, we checked ourselves three times before we set foot on the Site. Got an exam from Wilson's, from Nat, and from the guard at the front gate. We weren't carryin' nothin' that would make the bull nervous, not even a scent of its predators. Least I don't think we weren't. Bugger all if an elephant's trunk smells what we don't, and this one had three by my count. Hell, I don't even know if that's what set it off, but something clicked in its mind and it went off ballistic. Knocked Colby flat on his ass, charged at Hachi, then BZZT! The lights go out, I fired my gun, things got hectic for a bit. People started droppin' flashlights, everyone starts shouting and shootin'… Uh, we didn't use live rounds, sir, just darts.
(Note: Talbot did not inform Inglebard that ammunition shells had been found at the scene.)
Anyway, the bull ran off in the confusion, and I spotted it outta me light and gave chase.
(Talbot asks if Inglebard went after URA-872 alone.)
Yes, sir, by myself. Leastways, I didn't see anyone accompanying me. Nat said to spread out, so we spread out, and I guess I got the luck o' the draw. So I went after it alone, and, eh… (she pauses) Look, sir, I'll admit I ain't the best shot in the world, but in a dark area with all that pandemonium goin' on, ya can't really blame me if I miss, or, uh… Well, if I don't hit what I wanna hit. I just stuck to my training and kept loading up the darts, one after the other, and tryin' not to get stampeded or gored on any o' them tusks it had. I reckon maybe that's how that poor girl musta got killed, getting run through like that. Anyway, the lights came back on after a bit, maybe ten or so minutes — hard to tell in all the excitement — which by my understanding, meant either the poor elly was dead, or else its electric discharge musta run its course.
It was laying about halfway across the room I was in, covered in blood, with the walls all banged up, some detritus thrown around for good measure, and me gasping and shakin' like I'd almost been drowned. I…I don't think I killed it, sir; I prob'ly didn't even hit it. Nat calls us over our comms to assess the situation, so I reported back, and she told me to wait there, make sure nothin' else happens to the elly. We took a head count and checked the Site. One of ours was down, along with one o' yours — and the bull, too, o' course. It didn't take a genius to find out that our payload had been shot, and that other poor girl…uh…
Bloody hell, I know we wasn't usin' live ammo, sir. I know we wasn't. Hardly ever do in our line o' work. Someone must've…I dunno, I guess they might have filched it off someone by accident and opened fire before I chased after it. I was too busy tryin' to stay alive, and see what I was doin' and where I was aiming. Anyway, we all gave Nat our reports, and she went off to file em' away, and then you called me, seein' as how I was the only one o' the Castaways there when we lost our target. Heh. Just my luck, eh? Coulda been anyone there with the elly when it was offed, but…
(Inglebard shakes her head)
I have no idea how it happened. I only got off eight or nine rounds of tranq. Could barely see in all the confusion and the dark. I couldn't have killed it.
(Talbot asks about the two people who were found deceased at the scene.)
Yeah, foul luck, that. That lady got caught up in our muck while she was doin' her job, and… (sighs) At least she didn't die from friendly fire. Not with that wound. Poor thing.
(Talbot asks about the other MTF who was found deceased at the scene.)
(Inglebard silently stares away from Talbot for a moment.)
Uh, yeah. He, uh…
(silence)
I mean, these things happen, right? All in the line o' duty. Yeah. We'll, uh…have to hold a service for em'. For Colby. Anyway, that's all the details I can provide, unless you need me for anything else.
(Talbot thanks Inglebard and dismisses her.)
Right. I guess you can get in touch with Nat if anything comes up. We might be scrubbin' this one away with our pal toddy later.
(Silverberg silently sits in contemplation, biting on a pencil.)
Silverberg: Interesting. The two reports couldn't be more dissimilar. I'm beginning to understand why you wanted my input. Wait: Inglebard claimed there were two dead, sir: del Rio, who we know for certain, and…who else? Not Stewart…
Talbot: No, Colbert Luxbacher. One of Szabo's.
Silverberg: Did Szabo confirm this?
Talbot: No. Our records have him signing in, though. I'm listing him as MIA. We may yet come across him, but for the time being, he was not present following the incident, dead or alive.
Silverberg: That's odd. It's almost as if… (silence) Never mind. What about the other two witnesses? I'm curious to hear what they have to say.
(Talbot opens a file on his computer.)
Talbot: During the brief power outage, some of the D-class holding cells failed to secure. A few attempted to escape, and one got as far as the transfer point before he was captured. He managed to observe part of what transpired, so I asked that he be brought in for questioning.
Silverberg: Great. Let me guess: we're going to have to strike some kind of bargain with him before he'll talk.
Talbot: If by “bargain”, you mean “we won't execute him for trying to escape”… (he smirks) Don't worry, I've taken care of it.
(Talbot pushes a button on his telephone, requesting for the next witness to be sent in. D-2377 is escorted inside by guards, cuffs around his arms and legs. Talbot nods to the guards, who remove the cuffs. The guards walk outside the door, leaving D-2377 in the room.)
Talbot: To prove that I can be accommodating. Make yourself comfortable.
(D-2377 cautiously sits down.)
Talbot: Please identify yourself for the record.
D-2377: You mean like my name? (stammers and hesitates) It's, uh, Headripper.
Silverberg: Head…ripper?
D-2377: Yup. I'm tough like that. The gang named me that.
(Talbot sighs.)
Talbot: Can we get your real name now?
D-2377: That's, um, my real name.
(Silence for 11 seconds.)
D-2377: That is…ugh. You don't even wanna hear it. Totally lame as hell.
Talbot: Very well. (typing) Jane…Doe…
D-2377: Whoa, jeez, okay. It's… uh, Archimedes Taylor-Green.
(Silverberg snickers. Talbot revises his report.)
Silverberg: Sorry, Archimedes?
D-2377: I guess I was destined to be smart or something.
Talbot: Clearly not. Now: in your own words, could you please describe what you witnessed?
(D-2377 snorts and leans back.)
D-2377: Ah, so it's "please" and "thank you", Mr. T.G., is it? Yesterday it was "do this", "go here", "get back in your cell, D-23-whatever". Tell you what: how about you go fuck off, fathead?
Talbot: Your warden has already explained your indefinite leave of execution. We're prepared to compensate you further for your cooperation. Within reason.
(D-2377 snorts again, grins, and spits. Talbot regards it coolly.)
D-2377: Define "reason", jackass.
Talbot: What would you request? Aside from your freedom?
(D-2377 leans forward, biting the tip of his thumb in thought. He leers at Silverberg.)
D-2377: All right. I got it. You. Lady. Show me your tits.
(Silverberg and Talbot remain passive.)
Silverberg: And you'll cooperate if I do?
D-2377: (snickers) Yeah, word of honor.
(Silverberg shrugs and walks between Talbot and D-2377, turning to face the latter. She unbuttons her lab coat. D-2377 cackles.)
D-2377: Holy shit, I didn't think she'd do it!
(Silverberg resumes, lifting her blouse and undergarments in a single motion.)
Silverberg: Ta-daa.
(D-2377 stares and turns slightly pale. Silverberg quickly dresses.)
Silverberg: Your word of honor, Mr. Taylor-Green.
(D-2377 hesitates, blinking. He shakes his head.)
D-2377: Uh, yeah, sure, sure. (quietly) Fuckin' anticlimactic… (he clears his throat)
Okay, well, uh, where do you want me start? When I broke out of the cell? I guess that's a logical starting point, yeah.
Hold on. I didn't break out. I was let out. By the elephant thing, yeah. Weird, I know. I guess it was feeling charitable that day.
So anyway, me and my gang left our cells, starting going down the corridor— What's that? No, I have no friends. "Gang" is just D-Class lingo. You wouldn't get it. The hallway was really dark, and there was an alarm going off somewhere in the distance, so we obviously figured that a containment breach must've been going down. Half the gang pussied out and closed themselves back into their cells, because they were scared they were gonna die. The rest of us decided that this was the perfect opportunity to try and break out.
Yeah, I'm admitting it. Not really groundbreaking news that we'd wanna escape. What, you think we're good, law-abiding citizens?
We made it around a corner when we started hearing some kinda scuffle in the distance. It was safe to assume that that was the containment breach, so we all decided to go in the opposite direction. No, we have no actual idea what the fuck the layout of this building is.
And then the wildest thing happened. Out of another corridor came pouring another batch of D-Classes. I never knew there were other wings. It was really eye-opening. Like finding out the world is way vaster than you thought. I would've fallen to my knees and started weeping in awe if they didn't come charging right at us. Turns out one of ours had beef with one of theirs, and they were going for everybody.
To clarify, I have no friends. "One of ours" is more of general term. It's D-Class lingo. You wouldn't get it.
They managed to rip apart one of ours before we got the idea and turned the other way. It's crazy that they just did that. One really big ripped guy just took him by the armpits and tore him to pieces. Do they get more cafeteria food than us? How the fuck do you manage to do that? Anyway, we turned around and ran for dear life while these people were chasing us down. Except that was the direction of the containment breach.
I just skedaddled for my dear life while I heard my homies getting picked off behind me. Yeah-yeah, it's D-Class lingo. You wouldn't get it. Eventually, the sound of the breach reached us, but it ended up being behind a wall. I figured that I could just keep running and pass it, but just as I did that, the wall behind me burst open, and the breach spilled out into the corridor. Some big-ass fucking elephant smashed through with its tusks. And the air started smelling funky, and I could taste ozone in my mouth.
Didn't really register that in the moment, since the exploding rubble crushed like half of my homies. D-Class lingo. You wouldn't get it. A bunch of MTFs ran out of the hole to face this random elephant that was there for some reason.
So now, let me just set the scene. It was a real Mexican standoff now. We had a few of my guys on one side, a wall of concrete and rubble in the middle, and an enemy gang on the other. And in the middle, on top of the wall, we had a bunch of MTFs wrangling an elephant. I couldn't really do much but stand there. They didn't notice us, and I'm not sure they'd care enough to try and round us up. The elephant's tusks had a person wrapped around it, Jesus.
And in that moment, standing there, watching all this stuff happen, something clicked. Through the dust and smoke, I locked eyes with an opposing D-class. The guy that ripped a guy apart. We reached a common understanding. We set our differences aside, and our interests aligned like planets in the night sky.
Because if there's one thing that opposing D-Class gangs can unite on, it's hatred of the Jailers.
Both sides immediately ran forward to attack the MTFs. Granted, my side only had me and one other guy, so it was mostly them, but hey. I'm really painting a picture, aren't I? It was like a fucking movie. With special effects and everything. The ringing in my ears kinda added a soundtrack too.
I kinda pussied out after that. Didn't land a single hit, promise. Don't try punishing me or nothing. The guy I locked eyes with, ripped apart another person. Didn't know he could do it twice in a row. Impressive shit. But this time it was a Jailer, so it's cool.
Uh, I mean, thoughts and prayers. Or whatever.
Now that the elephant wasn't being held back, it went right through that wall. It went through the ceiling like it was butter, revealing the upper levels. And then it started shooting lighting bolts out of its tusks, zapping all over the place, hitting people and frying them and stuff.
Huh? No, this isn't a dramatization or anything. Word for word. Word is bond. Word.
By this point, the MTFs got their jizz together and decided to fight back against the homies — D-Class lingo, you wouldn't get it. Yeah, they're my homies now. They got promoted. All my homies were dead anyway. No, I have no friends. One of the MTFs pulled out her pistol and capped the elephant, then the ripping-people-apart guy in the head. He caught the bullet in his teeth. And then bit her head off. Shit's crazy. Dust settled, then we get rounded up. Just like that. Don't remember what happened to Mr. Steroids. Didn't see em' since.
(silence)
Silverberg: And that was all?
D-2377: Yep. S'all there is, and there ain't no more.
Talbot: Very well. Thank you, you're dismissed.
(D-2377 snorts)
D-2377: So that's it? No bullet to the head, no tossin' me at some monster, just… (shrugs)
Talbot: I think you'll find your compensation adequate, Mr. Taylor-Green.
(silence)
D-2377: Yeah, sure, fine. (He stands up, winking at Silverberg before being escorted out. She takes a deep breath.)
Talbot: Are you all right?
Silverberg: Hmm? Oh. (scoffs) I've done worse things for less satisfying results. It's almost flattering, in a way.
(Talbot raises an eyebrow. Silverberg clears her throat.)
Silverberg: But thanks for your concern all the same. I'm all right. It's the difference in their accounts that troubles me. A few discrepancies between perspectives is one thing, but this…
Talbot: Indeed. Each as valid or invalid as the other. You'll note that "Mr. Taylor-Green" didn't include any of the previously-assumed dead personnel in his account, but he did mention a deceased MTF. A female.
Silverberg: But the only two female MTFs we accounted for…
Talbot: Were Szabo and Inglebard.
(silence)
Silverberg: (sighs) At this point, I'm honestly not sure how my input could affect anything. A-am I supposed to judge which one I think is the most accurate?
(Talbot silently stares at her. Silverberg sighs again.)
Silverberg: Well, there's still one to go. Maybe if I compare all four, I might be able to get a better idea of what happened.
Talbot: About that.
(Talbot pushes a button on his telephone.)
Talbot: Could you send Mr. Manderson in, please?
(Silverberg flinches.)
Silverberg: I didn't know Manderson was involved. I thought he was on a different assignment.
Talbot: Officially, yes. Do you recall what Inglebard said, about how odd it was for an anomaly discovered in India to be transferred here? I thought the same, so I had Manderson assigned to dig around and observe everything from afar. Off the records.
Silverberg: Hence the subterfuge.
(Talbot nods. The door opens and Manderson enters.)
Talbot: Ah, good timing. Take a seat, please. I'm having Dr. Silverberg here as a sounding-board for the incident I assigned you to. You can speak freely in front of her.
Manderson: I assume you want my full name for the record? Senior Researcher Luge Manderson, department of Tactical Theology.
(Silverberg stares at Talbot, astonished.)
Silverberg: Tactical Theolo…
(Talbot ignores her.)
Talbot: Thank you. Now, in your own words, could you please describe what you witnessed?
I am with the Vedic-Indus division of the Tactical theology department. In case you aren’t sure what that means, it means that I deal with anomalies that are based around Hinduism and threaten our veil with their beliefs. With the anomaly, I was honestly shocked to see it coming from your site, considering it is so similar to Airavata… I think it should have been sent directly to Site-36, but I’ve also had to learn the hard way that when the Council makes a choice, they're right.
Of course, your site isn’t well equipped for something of this caliber, and I don’t blame you for that. Containing divinity is not a light job. Transporting it is even more difficult, as we all learned here.
In regard to the incident, I was on my way to watch the process from afar. When I had heard about the transfer I immediately knew I had to see how it would handle, after I sent a request to the Director at Wilson’s to remain on the project as I have here. By the time I arrived, the team already had it sedated, which I was pleasantly surprised to see. I even had the distant thought that maybe it was normal — well, as normal as an anomaly can be — but that I was wrong in seeing it as something divinely related. Of course, that’s when everything happened afterward.
You know, one of the most fascinating things about theology is the fact that it is so effective. Theology always has a way of messing with the mind, even when the mind doesn’t realize it — it's often assumed theology concerns belief. It doesn't. It concerns perception, how one person sees the world versus the other. There's a saying in Tactical Theology: if every witness agrees, you should start looking for the anomaly. No matter how much proof is given, or if everyone experienced it at once, there would still be debate.
Anyway, to get back on topic, I'm almost not sure of what happened. I was watching from the connected room, keeping my distance, and all the lights went out. They had been flickering for a while now, which I suspected was possibly from Akiva radiation, or some other divine event. I had been wondering if the electrical aspect of the anomaly was a connection to Indra, the Vedic god of weather, as they are commonly connected to lightning.
But it was the stillness and silence that followed that took my attention first. Believe me, a Foundation site should never be silent. Ever.
That's when it started glowing, like the same glow you see when you stare at the sun and then close your eyes. I still knew what I was looking at, but I couldn't actually see it at the same time. All of a sudden it was like everything was gone — the people, the walls, the site, everything — and it was just me and it. Airavata. It saw me more thoroughly than I could ever have seen it, and it knew me. Not my face. Not my body. Me. I have spent twenty years studying divinity, and now I was being studied in return.
Every instinct I'd cultivated over twenty years told me to look away and I still couldn't. I was completely taken over at this point, and I couldn't help myself. So I reached for it, and that's when someone jumped in front of me. I don't remember anything past that.
(Talbot interrupts, asking Manderson to specify which person he is referring to.)
I’m not sure, I didn’t really see them at all. They saved my life though, most likely. Who knows what would have happened otherwise.
It is plausible I only thought I saw Airavata because I have spent my career looking for such things. I cannot dismiss that possibility, even while I no longer believe it matters, but it's such a shame that it's gone. Well, not gone. You can’t get rid of a belief, an idea. Maybe it's all still closer than we think.
Did you get everything you need from me? Great. You know where to find me if you need anything else.
(Manderson stands, shaking Talbot's hand then offering it to Silverberg, who hesitates for a moment too long. Manderson nods his head and leaves.)
(Silverberg pensively studies her notes, shaking her head. Talbot remains calm, his hands folded as he waits for her verdict. Silverberg looks sharply at him.)
Silverberg: And you want me to make sense of all this?
(silence)
Silverberg: These accounts are inconsistent! How could four people who witnessed the same event come to such radically different conclusions? They can't even agree on who was killed, or how many, or in what manner!
Talbot: You do not believe one is more plausible than the others?
Silverberg: No; they all contradict each other. (scoffs) I can't imagine what the O5s would say to this. No wonder you wrote the report like that.
Talbot: What would you have me tell them?
(Talbot studies her impassively. Silverberg takes a deep breath before chortling.)
Silverberg: Ah yes, the cliche of asking a doctor for a second opinion. (she shuffles her notes again) You'd think Manderson would be the most reliable, but I'd never give any credence to a religious experience. Yaga's a good kid, but between their inane rambling and that…vision? Dream? Neurological backfire? I wouldn't trust them if they told me water was wet. That girl, the MTF, she was definitely obfuscating something, and I'd sooner sprout wings and fly than believe a D-Class. (she winces) But there were so many truths intertwined with all their lies. Facts we know, or could easily verify. I honestly don't think I can do it, Cecil. I can't say which one of these is the truest, or if even any of them are true.
Talbot: That's your professional opinion?
Silverberg: (nods) Personal and professional. I'm sorry.
Talbot: Don't be. I asked for your input and you provided it.
(Silverberg sighs)
Silverberg: Well, if that's what you wanted, then I'm glad I could be of service. So what will you tell the higher-ups?
(Silence. Talbot slowly pushes his chair back, stands up, and approaches a window. He gazes out at Site-203's main foyer.)
Talbot: Moira, did I ever tell you I used to be an agent for the Chaos Insurgency?
(Silverberg flinches, stiffening.)
Silverberg: Uh…no, sir, I had no idea.
Talbot: Only one other person at this Site knows about that. It's not exactly a dark secret or anything; I just prefer to keep it under wraps to prevent distraction. With that in mind, you could say that any report I issue would also be dubious.
(He glances at Silverberg, smirking. She remains transfixed.)
Talbot: Of course, O5-6 can vouch for me, so… (his smile fades) I mention this because of a rumor I heard while in their service; this would've been about fifteen or twenty years ago. Word was that the Insurgency had learned of a strange entity that could control a person's perception of it, to some extent. The anomaly could make you believe it was something else, or that it was affected by certain conditions; the details are a bit murky, but the general consensus was that it showed you what you wanted to see.
Talbot: As for its origins and its ultimate fate, well, that was a matter of contention. Some people said that this entity was merely discovered, and was just another in a long line of hostile creatures that the Foundation wanted contained. Others said that the Insurgency manufactured it as a living weapon, or to perform reconnaissance of some kind — and naturally, there were those who claimed that the Foundation had made it for the same purpose. (scoffs) There were some who even thought that the Foundation made it to use internally. Can you imagine, Moira? An entity that showed you exactly what you wanted to see, used by the Foundation on itself?
(There is a long silence.)
Silverberg: What… (she clears her throat) do you think the purpose of such a…
Talbot: (shakes his head) God only knows. Spying? Rooting out spies? Testing? Fire Suppression? Miscommunications? (he sits back down) Anyway, it's just another story the agents told each other while at leisure. These things usually had no merit and were always blown out of proportion — like fishing stories or games of telephone.
(she chuckles nervously)
Silverberg: Yeah, you're probably right, and it wouldn't account for Yaga's injuries or Del Rio's death, would it?
(Talbot remains silent.)
Silverberg: So, ah—
Talbot: Ah, yes. Don't worry about the report; I'll handle it. You're dismissed, with my thanks.
(she hesitates)
Silverberg: Um…thank you, sir.
(Silverberg stands and heads for the door. She opens it and puts one foot out, turning her head. Talbot is busily typing at his laptop. He does not look up. She leaves his office and closes the door behind her.)
(Talbot continues typing.)
(He stops and gathers all of Silverberg's notes together, studying them. He slowly nods his head.)
(He puts the notes away and takes a deep breath, massaging his face and cleaning his glasses. He looks up, directly into his office security camera, staring at it for several seconds.)
(Talbot puts his glasses on and resumes typing.)
choccoMan,
Doctor Zurvan,
Ekaterina Komisch, and
Mister_Toasty.