During my work at the Foundation, I had come across a large number of individuals and organisations of various kinds — each interesting and unique in its own way, with a distinctive view of the world and the place of the anomalous in it. Some of them are current or potential, but valuable, allies of the Foundation, united with it by the desire to protect humanity and lead it forward. Some are the Foundation's unconditional enemies, always ready to turn human nature and normalcy itself inside out, either for their own gain or for obscure ideological goals, without consideration for any risks and long-term consequences of their actions. However, as a general rule, even with such… persons, certain agreements can be reached. If they can not be destroyed, then at least it is possible to achieve… satisfactory conditions of coexistence, in a manner that is not so different from nuclear parity.
Perhaps the most striking exception to all of the above are those organisations and individuals, who follow Annihilism. They are not interesting, because their goal is simple — to destroy everything. They are not unique, because their goals bear no difference from a caricature villain of a cheap early twentieth century pulp fiction or a lousy pass-through video game, in which publishers forgot to hire a scriptwriter. And even when they try to wrap themselves in a religious or pseudo-philosophical wrapper, their ultimate goal remains unchanged, and betrays them like the severed nose of an Egyptian corrupt official.
You may ask, and quite reasonably so: who can even be attracted to such an ideology? Sarkicism promises power to the sectarians, the Church of the Broken God — the religious ecstasy of merging with the Metal Absolute, P.O.R.A. and the likes of it — the satisfaction of the centennial aspirations of oppressed peoples. Even the Chaos Insurgency promises freedom and prosperity to those who follow it. In contrast, even to the greatest and highest of its followers, Annihilism promises only destruction. So, who in their right mind would agree to this? Yes, the answer is right: no one.
There are currently two prevailing theories on this issue. The first is the one that coincides with our profiling data, and indicates that Annihilism gathers sociopaths, misanthropes, insane and simply short-sighted impulsive individuals, who want to exact revenge upon the world for their imaginary or real suffering, which they believe they were forced into. The second theory, proposed by Dr. Murzei, stipulates that “Annihilism”, how you and I call it, is nothing more than an anomalous memetic agent, infecting the population of the Earth by an unknown criterion. The majority of the modern humanity is considered to be immune to it, thanks to the obvious implications of Annihilism for the matters of natural selection.
It should not come out as a surprise if I now say that it is… problematic to negotiate with the followers of Annihilism. Of course, you can try to talk to them, and you can even sign something with them. However, the only thing that interests them is the destruction and annihilation of the existence. And since you have no right to offer them this, all these agreements will not be worth the air and paper spent on them. You should also be careful and avoid taking anything from their hands, however warm or cold they may be — Annihilism artifacts are not designed with user safety in mind. The best, most correct, and only viable way of interacting with the annihilists is their immediate and irreversible eradication. Fortunately, in this matter, allies can be found easily enough.


Demons love traitors. The regret, the suffering, the misery, and, of course, the bits and pieces of the cardinal sins sprinkled throughout the soul to form the most delicious concoction of inner torment. Indeed, traitors were adored and coveted, at least those of human origins. Demon traitors, however, much like traitors in human society, were generally despised.
Currently, that was the situation Tartarean Entity-5 of SCP-4085 found themselves in. Forced to reveal the secrets of Demon science to the mighty and overbearing Foundation —not even permitted to use his birth name— TE-5 was in turmoil. To break the laws of the Demons as a Demon was to gamble with a fate worse than oblivion. Your social class would be crushed, your flame extinguished to a whimper, and your name ripped from your being, torn apart, reassorted, and branded on you for all to see your betrayal. After that you won't even be a shell of yourself— you'll be nothing. No excuse, no matter how grand, would be received. Naturally, the only thing stopping the gates of hell from opening and delivering him and his co-conspirators to that fate were the people who got him in this situation in the first place. And they demanded results. Creating these results, however, proved more difficult than said. The store repairs were almost complete and they still had enough workers to carry out their operations. The only thing left that needed actual work was currently where he was heading right now.
As he made his way down the stone hallways, their stalactites dripping with fresh magma, across the rivers made of lava and the essence of the damn, down the elevator that he found to be decorated with too many accessories in hindsight, and across the room where many of his friends fell in battle, was the Device. Their savior and imprisoner. Its copper-colored frame filled most of the room. Its tubes bubbling with blue fluids and pipes pumping steam and smoke from their exits as they gleamed from the light cast by molten rock. And the control board— fitted with its levers and pulleys, each one bearing symbols from home— hummed with the sounds of its inner components at work. Although it was damaged, it stood there proudly, boasting its power to anyone lucky enough to gaze at it. If it wasn't for it, TE-5 thought, he wouldn't be where he is now. With that sudden realization, he had a sudden urge to kick it, but that feeling soon changed into complacency and horrific boredom.
Another day of tinkering and rearranging the inner mechanisms of the Device. Then putting them back where they were before after realizing everything he just did just made it worse. And he was alone, too, again. Honestly, he couldn't blame the others for avoiding him after the situation he got them in. He didn't even want to talk to himself half of the time.
"Another day working in the Shaggy's House," TE-5 said as he walked towards the back of the room and grabbed his tools left from last night.
"Another day."

With each passing sentence of reading the new progress reports for SCP-4085-2, Director Kellogg grew closer and closer to having an aneurysm. He shuffled in his carefully crafted leathered-hickory chair inside his rashly made office fitted with cameras and microphones and everything else needed to film a tragedy but not prevent it. They gave him the authority and title of a director over the SCP-4085 project, but they still treated him like a nobody. It was a provisional site, yes, but they believed and said that work done here could open new sciences and opportunities unseen before. Well, that was what they sound like in the messages he received from higher command. But he knew what they really meant: "We think this is important, but not that important. So, we are giving you this, someone of equal unimportance, to take care of".
The higher-ups only saw it as a store with possible potential of being somewhat useful, they couldn't even grasp its true capabilities. If the data he got from the research departments are true, then this whole place can change everything. That blue-skinned freak was right about one thing—this place is gold. But these reports kept saying otherwise. No progress has been made in repairing the Device. Useless half-baked Demons; geniuses they call themselves, what a joke. Just thinking about it made him wish he had allowed every single one of them to be killed in that raid. It wouldn't have made a difference anyhow at the rate they're going.
What a crap situation. Forest Ceaser, lending on their cane in front of the door, didn't make it better.
"What do you want, Forest? I'm trying to work."
"Haha, just here to give you the final revisions of the contract", Forest walked over to Kellogg's desk with a limp and placed them in front of him. After a few moments, he was still there.
"Don't you have to have one of your pets deliver this to me?" Every single time Kellogg sees Forest, he looks more ragged and worn down, as if something was chipping away at him. Honestly, he was surprised that he even made it this long, especially in his line of work.
"Nah, not for this one. I also wanted to see what was going on here, too. How is the whole Demon science going for ya?"
"Nowhere."
"Figures."
"Yep. So you're done here?"
Forest began skitting around the room, his cane clicking against the floor with each step. "Come on. I came from London to this wash-up place and you have nothing else to say? You young folk, really need to relax. All of you are so tense in your work."
"I am a year older than you."
"Hm, you're missing the point. I know how you feel about this project, no one's listening to you and seeing what you're seeing. Nothing is getting done, and sooner or later you're going to be shut down. But you still need to breathe. Look at the bigger picture."
Kellogg had enough of this. Forest tended to speak on long tangents whether they be in envoy or person. "I appreciate the sentiment, but really I need—"
"I see the way you treat the Demons. You're overworking them. You have to remember that they are living beings as well. Albeit creatures that only need ten hours of sleep a month and would eat your soul if given the chance. They can still become fatigued."
"What are you talking about? And why do you care so much?"
"Because I have an interest in this place as well. I'm smart, that's how to survive so long in dealing with these underworld creatures, but I know I can't last forever. One day something bad is bound to happen. So why not try to get a transfer here, a nice cozy job that is sure to make waves in the Foundation sooner or later? I rather die in a bed than in a desolate, bottomless pit. I know no one's listening now, but they will be once everything here starts moving along."
Kellogg was listening now. These weren't his typical rambles. "But what's in it for me?"
"I can give you Tartarean metal, and other otherworldy supplies. I have my suspicions that the reasons our Demons are struggling are because of our Earthly material. And don't worry, this won't be behind the Foundation's back or anything. Remember, no one really cares about this place. They'll just be glad to hear any progress."
"You're a vulture, you know that?"
"Hm-mm."
"Then let's shake on it. But the moment that I—"
"Yeah, yeah, if I betray you, I'll slit your throat or something. I get it. But have a little bit more faith in me. After all, we are colleagues."
"Right", Kellogg said with a smile.

Below the twin moons, Sal and Bal, beneath the destroyed world of the First Golems was a fortress. It rotated along its axis in empty space, surrounded by countless ruptured stars and newly-born nebulas; its walls were fortified with metal embedded with old-world magicks and fitted with enough artillery to destroy a city. At first glance, many would assume it was built for war and conquest, and they wouldn't be wrong. But its first and original purpose was to be a hospital. A private one where the owners did not tolerate trespassers.
Pass the floating fortress's halls, its portraits of blue-skinned humans, and down the stairs into its basement was an area fitted with the most advanced medical equipment one can buy, or possibly even create. Some buzzed, others bounced, but most were still and silent, floating in the air, waiting to be used.
Just below them was Hawkins Zion Perem, the 250th son of the House of Perem, strapped on a cold metal table being operated on by a figure covered in medical garments. A floating sphere made of needles and scalpels and gizmos and magick was stitching his exposed flesh, while a figure ran tests and occasionally checked his vitals.
"It hurts…It hurts. You told me it would be quick!" Hawkins's feet stiffened with frost. His body was beginning to become numb due to the cold from the metal and the elixirs he was being pumped with. His brother, Julius, currently fiddling with an orb capable of obliterating cells by just touching them, told him it would only be a week until he was healed. But after the multiple checkups, back-to-back surgeries, and the constant attachment and removal of organic and inorganic material, a week turned into a month.
"Nay, I did not expect them to use magic in their weaponry. It is hindering your body's natural regeneration process and my methods. If Quarry didn't find you when he did, you would have been in a much dire situation."
"You got to be kidding me…You got some iron?"
"No, where's yours?"
"That stupid brat Quarry blackmailed me for it. Told me he'll tell sister about this if I didn't give it to him." Hawk cursed himself for not transmuting closer to the medic house. From the Foundation to this, this whole situation has been for nothing.
"That sounds like your fault. You should have heeded their warnings. They told you dealing with Demons directly is tricky. Now look at you, you're all messed up and nasty."
"Aren't you supposed to be the doctor?"
"That still doesn't make you any less gross."
"I swear, when I get out of here, I'm going to make them all pay for this."
"No, you're not."
"What?"
"You're barred from going back to that dimension. Aaberg orders."
"You told her! Why? What is wrong with you?"
"I didn't; she saw you. You know she comes around everywhere eventually."
"You could have at least lied."
"Get serious, Hawk. Anyways, I'm leaving. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going a try a new method where I give you the toxin with the Carrion axolotl. I think that should give us some promising results. "
As Julius began to walk away, Hawk tried to turn his head but soon stopped after feeling a stabbing sensation in his abdomen. He reopened a stitch. "Wait…You can't leave me like this anymore. It hurts and it's cold."
"Aaberg told me to not make it easy for you either, sorry. She told me to tell you that you are the 250th oldest and that you should know better or something. I don't really know, I forgot most of it "
"Nay, Julius, come on. You can't be serious. This is cruel!"
"Sorry, I'm tired, gotta go. Good night." And with that said, Julius turned off the lights and closed the door. The only thing that remained was the medical sphere's constant buzz from working on Hawk's body, and Hawk himself, cold and alone and strapped to a table in the darkness.
Unable to change his fate, all Hawk could do was say "Shit" before staring at the ceiling and then falling asleep.


Agent Haoyu woke up covered in butterflies. He brushed them aside and proceeded to get dressed for another day at Biological Site-104. After the monasteries that housed these creatures burned down, the Foundation had sent out interest forms to various staff members. Every day he regretted his decision to put N/A on an interests form. This led to him being introduced to these butterflies and, upon the discovery of his immunity, he was given custody of the anomaly.
These butterflies subsisted off of interests and died without. However, the kaleidoscope seemed to maintain its numbers through an unknown reproduction method. Haoyu spent his days researching these creatures and recording mundane events. He had made little progress and received little budget. Today, Haoyu felt especially bored, no abnormal activity came from these rainbow creatures.
Haoyu realized that he was terribly depressed. At first, he had some sort of pipe dream of joining Alpha-9 by training the butterflies. Haoyu spent the better part of 5 years training them and had taught basic commands such as “over there.” His superiors weren't very impressed. Now, Haoyu was simply a babysitter for some rainbow butterflies. He was given this job because of how boring he was, how pointless his life was. His life was worth so little, the butterflies had nothing to eat. The butterflies had eaten everything he could be, his very future eaten alive. He had dreamed of a happy life, but now realized he would die surrounded by this rainbow kaleidoscope.
Haoyu wondered whether he was any different from the butterflies. He sometimes dreamed he was a butterfly, flying free, a beautiful landscape below. All he did was sit in the containment cell and watch, same as them. He remembered when he would gather with friends and loved ones, how he would live through their interests, seeking to hide how little he cared and thus how little he mattered to them or how little they mattered to him. He sought to hide himself from the world's expectations of him and his life. He had succeeded, now in a world where no one but the butterflies knew he existed.
And the world around Haoyu exploded. A Containment Breach. Haoyu looked out the gaping hole in the wall and spotted the guards engaging what appeared to be a porcupine woman. The guards were injured from the explosion and were quickly killed. Haoyu took stock of his kaleidoscope, approximately 30% had died in the explosion, the rest gathered in the far corner. He breathed hard, it had been a while since he exercised. Then, he remembered his one trick.
“Over there.”
The butterflies flew out of their cell and swarmed the porcupine woman. The woman removed spines from her neck and attempted to attack the swarm. However, the butterflies succeeded in their attack and the woman collapsed. Haoyu emerged from the cell, and the butterflies surrounded him. It felt like a dream.


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On her first birthday, Iris Persephone Dark learned what it felt to live.
From the very first scream her little lungs gave to the world in a flurry of tears, it was obvious she wasn't like the other children. For you see, her nickel-colored eyes that so gently contrasted the black hair so characteristic of the family she descended from weren't that of a kid. There was a special depth to them, as if they were mirrors to the soul of the observer itself, so cunningly cutting through every mask those that dared look at her hid behind. It was obvious, just from one look, that she was special, even for the Dark blood that ran through her veins, and that no secret — no matter how dark — could hide from the brilliant soul that sat behind those brown irises.
But genius and deep eyes were not the only gifts the world would bestow upon Iris that day. It knew something as little as that wasn't enough to satisfy one of her kind, so it gave it the only thing it felt would be enough — it crowned her the true heir of Dark as the helicopter crashed down and burned, taking the two people that called themselves her parents just moments earlier with it. But she — she wasn't as much as scratched. She simply opened her eyes once more, looking around herself with nothing but curiosity behind them, oblivious to the path the universe had set her on.
On her sixth birthday, Iris learned of privilege.
By this point, her intelligence was more than crystal clear to all members of the families running the Company, so they quietly avoided the strange child their now-gone companions left for them to take care of. But the other kids that surrounded them — they weren't so lucky. And, due to who she was, their parents didn't dare to explain to their children that they should avoid her. Their brains were unaware of what a person she was, so they treated her like their own, inviting her to plays and other activities they'd had the luck to be able to take part in. But it wasn't ever enough for her — so in her more-than-developed mind, she schemed, fully aware of what could be done to satisfy the hunger inside her.
She took that which wasn't hers, a crystal necklace of the house of Carter, right from the room it lay in. It was a simple act she thought of to just be a prank, really — all she needed to do was go to the side as the other kids the family invited to their house were having their fun, and nab it from a place nobody would even see her in. She knew she shouldn't, but the piece was beautiful, and it would be nothing but hilarious to the family it belonged to, she thought, as her little hands grabbed it and put it in her pocket.
When the next day, the theft was discovered, she did as little as say she saw one of the peasant boys that cleaned the house take it. They never even questioned her word — after all, why would they? She was a Dark, a friend of the family, so what her mouth stated as fact was as much if not more for the Carter household. The boy screamed as they took him away, and she simply smiled, silently congratulating herself on her brilliance.
On her eleventh birthday, Iris learned of power.
Her grandfather, Percival Darke, had always known that this day would come sooner or later — the day he'd have to explain to the person that would become his heir of what a great responsibility she held in her little hands. Carefully and step by step he revealed to her the truth about their Company, of what it did, and what it meant for the life of Iris and everyone around her. He told her of the Three Great Diasporas, of the Sixth and Seventh Occult Wars the deals they've made during them, of the Normalcy that he signed alongside his colleagues, and of what all of it meant for her and her future career. She nodded along with her curious little head as she absorbed more and more facts, ready to fulfill the duties she was taught lay on her as the primary inheritor of the Dark family.
Percival Darke smiled, happy to see the person he didn't yet call a granddaughter more than ecstatic to study the craft of his art. But what he did not know is that the person that would soon choose the name Iris over the one she was given at birth took not just that she was important away from their conversation. She understood something much more — that if she just wanted, she could take the world she lived in into her power-inherent hand, and mold it to her liking. And on that day, a single thought took root inside her head — one that would blossom into a tree that would rock her life upside down.
On her sixteenth birthday, Iris learned of money.
She was no longer just a kid anymore. As was expected of a young person like her, she had taken her rightful place as an assistant to Mr. Darke himself, going from one task to another and simply observing as dollar after dollar flew through the group and multiplied, nearly from thin air. She looked at what it took to make most of what you were given, and knew that it would come to her to make these decisions one day. She simply observed transaction after transaction, and realized that she herself could do this and so much more with the privilege and power she was given the day she came to life.
But with that, she perceived another peculiar thing — in this world, money — and the power that came alongside it — wasn't just hers to take, even if she was the one to make it. She had to share it with the horrid little bastards of the families that run the Company with her that she had to call friends before her grandfather and other elders. No matter how hard she worked or how much she needed it, she always had to share the only food for the hunger inside of her. It made her sick to her stomach, but, as the distinguished lady she wanted to be, she swallowed the anger inside of her, and put on a fake smile, already shafting plans on how to make sure the world would turn to how she wanted it to be — how it should be.
On her twenty-first birthday, Iris learned of independence.
The wise investments and decisions she now made herself have proven more than fruitful, giving more and more of what the Dark household needed every day. But the very moment she turned twenty-one, she laid aside her checks and bills to do something much more important — celebrate her finally coming of age. Fully knowing she was now entirely free from those idiotic little stuck-up cretins that had controlled her and her life for so long, she took a bottle of the darkest wine she could find and drove forward into the night, laughing all the way through at her newfound liberty she knew she had always deserved.
As that night's stars flickered above her head, she once again revisited the plan she'd woven since she was eleven, her mind now unshackled by the chains of reason and being a minor. She took a mirror and looked deep into it, seeing nothing but her wonderful eyes. She didn't need anything more — for, in that moment, she didn't see the rest of her body she found so horrid. With the power she gained and the knowledge of how to use it, with the privilege of knowledge and the understanding of the world that came with it, and with the money and wisdom on how to use it to fulfill her plan, she looked at a boy she hated so much since she was eleven for the final time and closed her eyes, smiling widely through tears of joy. When she opened them again, she was no longer who she was before — she was now the woman she always had been, independent and fully herself for the first time since she was born.
She looked into her eyes again, and already knew what the name she'd choose for herself was.
On her twenty-seventh birthday, Iris learned of violence.
With more than eleven years of study, Mr. Percival trusted her like nobody else in his Company. She ran everything he ran, and that meant one thing — that it was finally time for her to know of the full extent of Marshall, Carter and Dark's business. So, with a heart on his shoulder, he took her below the world of light, into the darkness of the less-than-legal operations the Company ran. She didn't do as much as flinch when she learned of what they did. She understood that all of this, no matter how horrid, was only to further one goal — to ensure they stayed in the position they deserved where their money and normal power couldn't help. He smiled, knowing he had raised her well.
By then, nobody — no matter how big or small — dared to question whether Iris Dark was, in fact, Iris Dark, and not the rancid creature she was born as. But on the day of her twenty-seventh birthday, one of the brutes her grandfather had hired looked her in the eyes, and, even with all the privilege and power she held, challenged the thought that she was a woman with just his sight. So she answered appropriately. With everything she could obtain with the dollars she'd made, she beat him unconscious until he admitted he was wrong. All to ensure their status, she thought, as she smiled widely, realizing what giant possibilities this newly-found power had just opened for her. She did that because she knew that with this, she could finally find a cure to the never-ending starvation that plagued her for so long now.
On her thirty-second birthday, Iris learned of freedom.
When the clock struck midnight, everything had come to fruition. It all clicked, what she needed to truly do to take the hunger that rippled through her guts and satisfy it like nothing ever could. She looked back on her life, and found only one solution. She knew the rest wouldn't take it well, but she was ready to accept it as just a price to pay to maintain the status quo she so desperately wanted. Those that held her back would fall.
The two other old men that took so much privilege, power, money, and independence from her and her grandfather would now pay. They would pay for daring to take away the only thing that could ever make her happy, robbing her of the power she was rightfully hers. After all, whose else could it be? So she put on a final fake smile and invited them for a yacht ride, putting the first piece of domino into motion. The rest of the night was history, she thought, as she finally took the remaining pieces of power the two farts held away from her into her own hands, and blamed their deaths on some poor Serpent's Hand idiot that gave her the chance to do so.
But when she brought the good news home, good old Percy wasn't happy — his eyes simply twisted in pure terror, his mouth unable to even comment on what his granddaughter had done. But that was okay, Iris realized, putting the man to retirement on a far and remote island that had everything he could ever hope for. She didn't need him anymore, so his opinion was less than of no meaning to her. Now that she took everything she needed to not starve any second longer, she felt happy, content for the first time since she was born. But soon, she realized, the hunger didn't fully go away — it had simply went dim for a few hours before returning, stronger than ever before.
But even then, she smiled once more, knowing more then well what more could be done to quench it, this time for good.

It was almost time to go, Iris Dark thought, as she finished combing her perfect, black hair. She looked in the mirror, smiling upon seeing her own beauty, still thinking about what had happened and, more importantly, what was about to come. You see, there have been… certain changes, in the last few hours, done to the world and the status quo she had known for so long. Even for someone that has undergone such a drastic metamorphosis from her birth as Iris, it was surprising. For one, she had finally gotten the new dress she had requested two days ago. But, almost as importantly, the Veil of Normalcy has now fallen, fully shattering upon the earth it once protected.
But yesterday or today weren't important. From the day she learned of the Curtain she'd known it was an imperfect solution, one that would inevitably one day break with as little as one movement of someone's hand. No, tomorrow was of much greater importance, for tomorrow was her forty-first birthday.
And, in celebration of that milestone, Iris Dark wasn't going to wait for others to shower her with meaningless gifts she didn't need. Today, she would gift herself all that she ever wanted and needed. Now, fully capable of doing what she had always wanted to do, she would break the camel's back and reach for the stars she had always deserved, now unbound by the laws of so-called normalcy limiting her trade.
For her forty-first birthday, Iris Persephone Dark was going to give herself the world.


What We Know So Far: Answering the Question of What, How, and Why

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F.A.Q.

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NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION

NOTICE OF SCIENTIFIC SUMMARY
The following document has been abridged, editorialized, and summarized for brevity and to strictly necessitate Foundation-approved data and information only.

Submitted for certification & completion of DFA1 Program, C. 2017

What We Know So Far: Answering the Question of What, How, and Why; Green-Types — A Modern Compendium of Research and Analysis in Emergent Biomorphologies
Mari V. Schmidt[1], et al.

History & Forward
The Foundation has long sought to identify the intrinsic link between emergent bio-physical phenomenology and emergent anomalous phenomenology. Attempts at understanding have led to various, at times inconsistent, hypothesis and interpretations; see: formally, Excerpts from PHYSICS Division Field Manual 13 2, informally, An FAQ; Or, What the Hell is a Hume? 3. As most containment procedures function quite effectively with cursory, if not minimal, knowledge of both Reality Benders, Green-Types4, and the Reality Anchors5 meant to negate their anomalous effects on the Hume/Reality around them, little has been done in the way of expanding the Foundation's current compendium on both phenomena.
Abstract
This paper seeks to adequately address and determine the modes of operation at fundamental levels, where emergent phenomena can be effectively merged with modern & interdisciplinary models within well established & theoretical frameworks.

What
Introduction
With the discovery & confirmation of the Higgs Boson as well as its ancillary scalar field in 2012[3], scientists within the Foundation began to ruminate over the implications of additional scalar/gauge fields inside of their theoretical modeling. Although seminal at the time, the works of Clef, Caldmann & Rzewski were already nearing the conclusions of their limited research, and thusly neglected to entertain the idea of “Hume” measurement to a possible “virtual” or “gauge” particle of a scalar field. Explicitly, the back and forth when Caldmann is asked, responds, and later reneges:

Are Humes composed of matter? And if so, do they have mass? What state of matter are Humes?
Dr. -Ws
As far as we can tell, individual Humes are both massless and infinitely massed.
This is not correct. Humes are not a particle; they are a measurement. See below.
Wait, I thought Humes were how reality stability was measured (like degrees and temperature), but now you're telling me they're particles?
-Dr. Sh
You are correct; Humes are a measure of reality, not a particle. The previous answer was in error. See above.

It is quite evident that the thought process seen here was most certainly steering the responding research team in the direction of a QFT6 interpretation of the Hume measurement. Unfortunately, whether it be by lack of effort and energy, or sheer lack of interdisciplinary study, Caldmann & Rzewski neglected to consider whether the measurement of Hume could be seen through the lens of a conformal field theory.
As “temperature” is ultimately the amount of excitation of energies (ie matter) within a given system, so is “Hume” the measurement of the excitation of reality within a given system (ie the universe). This functionality and interpretation has given way to a broader understanding of Hume as a scalar field, with Dr. Jay Wentworth notably stating in Quantum Hume Theory, An Ontokinetic Look Behind Reality, “It would seem that the maths points to the energies needed to produce a force-carrier, boson-like, particle from a symmetry-breaking excitation of the proposed ‘Hume Field' would be near infinite, or resultant of negative, true-vacuum energies.”[4] It can then be reasoned that the line of thinking proposed in Caldmann & Rzewski's retracted answer was truly more in-line with how we currently understand Hume and its now established Hume Field.
Quantum-Electroweak Analogies of The Hume Field
With Hume adequately described as a scalar field permeating spacetime, this definition gives us the insight into what comprises the ontokinetic relationship of Hume energies at the quantum scale and later, extending in extrapolation through the AdS/CFT7[5] boundary up to the molecular/cellular level.
At its core, the Hume Field can be reasonably defined as the causal output of a 12-Dimensional construct using a Calabi–Yau diametric manifold, in which the tensor-vector of the manifold is defined along a n-symmetry value, that value, always of course being of an implicit, non-zero-absolute as defined by the Ricci curvature.[6]
These 12-D constructs are found between the scalar intersection of 11-D space & 1-D time (causally in both directions) of macro-scale 4-D Minkowski Space-Time, a la Kluza-Klein transformations, as essential “nodal-vectors”, wherein these symmetries are vibrating at lengths 1 x 10-33.[7]
Thusly, not only do we find that the maths modeling our previous understanding of Hume reflects a stark similarity to 12-D/M-Theory, but that the measurement of “Hume” in a definable space is almost completely analogous to the way in which we currently understand the emergent properties of reality from within M-Theory. This can be most exceedingly clear when comparing the way in which we use M-Theory to define the electroweak force's effect on macro-scale processes, and Hume Field Theory to define baseline reality at the AdS/CTF boundary.
At these boundaries, where near-infinite permutations of quantum-scopic nodal-vectors are aggregated to macro-scale phenomenon, we find that like gravity at the AdS/CTF boundary, Hume behaves very similarly. Where “space-time tells matter how to move; matter tells space-time how to curve”8, so does “Hume tells reality how to manifest; reality tells Hume how to fluctuate”. To be of note is the understanding surrounding the interplay of macroscopic phenomena arising from quantum scale field properties, puts the Foundation in a unique position to argue for solutions to a Unified Field Theory, a “Theory of Everything” as defined by modern and classical mechanics, not to mention the potential pataphysical implications, the both of which are currently completely beyond the research team's goals and understanding, and are not the aims of this paper.
What is put forth, is that evident data from the equations surrounding emergent phenomena in the Hume Field, points to the fact that the vibrations of bundled Hume nodes are the cause of manifested reality. Should deviations in these fluctuations occur, their interactions with the macro-world are most certainly present and observed. In the same way the electroweak interactions at subatomic levels give rise to emergent phenomena within cellular activity, see: bio-electrostatic properties; Hume interactions at microscopic levels can and do affect biochemical processes.

How
”The Powerhouse of the Cell”
What can be determined from the limited sample size of bio-analysis in the Green-Types currently in Foundation custody, is the extreme proliferation of large-scale A-typical mitochondrial cultures within all active heterogeneous cells of examined individuals. Whereas most typical mitochondrial cultures per-cell average 100k-500k active sites, Green-Type cellular biology has shown ranges of 800k-1.2m active sites per-cell.[8] These additional, A-typical mitochondria in particular, when put under Hume reading equipment display consistent and determinable deviation from baseline Hume levels, often exhibiting extreme bio-kinetic properties[2].

Bio-Electric-Analysis of non Green-Type human neuronal-mitochondria (top) and Green-Type neuronal-mitochondria (bottom).

The most notable examples of these bio-humetric manipulations are those found and resultant of neuronal-mitochondria. The mitochondria in non-anomalous individuals typically number in range of 100,000-1 million active sites per cell, in proportion to axion length and synapse size. However, when looking at Green-Type individuals, the findings are no less than astonishing. In measured subjects, the active sites number from 250k to an observed maximum of 5.8 million, each one of these A-typical mitochondria displaying aberrant effects on the measured Hume Field. These effects, as evidenced in the maths concerning the crossing of the AdS/CFT boundary, are aggregative and logarithmic. Conclusions can be drawn to determine that the power a Green-Type individual has on the Hume Field is directly proportional and logarithmically scaled to the amount of A-typical mitochondria within said individual.
Control of Hume as a Biomechanism
With a clear understanding of “What” the mechanisms for manipulations of the Hume Field entail, a better detail on “How” is needed to complete the bigger picture, before answering “Why”.
From limited bio-analysis given to the research team by the Foundation, the modes of operational biomechanics within A-typical neuronal-mitochondria function largely similar and analogous to non-anomalous active sites. Typical hormone response, transport chain processes, cytoplasmic enzyme production, and other cellular activity are largely unaffected by the presence and anomalous effects of, and in some cases are both accelerated and assisted by, A-typical mitochondria.[9]
Notable examples of this include the anomalous use of Hume manipulation to accelerate wound healing, transmutate cellular areas into blast, bullet, or heat-resistant materials, using analogous humectrophoresis to redirect hydrostatic flows, and vibrate materials at natural resonant frequencies resulting in material dissolutions.
At larger scales, with larger energy potentials contained within individuals with larger A-typical mitochondria cultures, the practice9, use, and manipulation of the Hume Field can produce wildly anomalous behavior. Fluctuations in macro-scale Hume vectors, most notably those intrinsically linked to the QHF, and thusly a direct interference and manipulation of baseline Hume can produce effects in the range of, but certainly not limited to:
- Spontaneous Matter Generation
- Time Dilation/Contraction
- Universal Constant Reconfiguration
- Tangental/Auxiliary M-Brane Universal Collision, Collapse, Creation10
These baseline effects, most commonly referred to as “ontokinesis”, or “essokinesis” in past research, are at the crux of what the Foundation hopes to discover and understand in the pursuit of maintaining normalcy. Emergent ontokinetic biomorphisms can now be generally seen as abnormalities within mitochondrial cultures, and as with all mitochondrial research, it is to be overwhelmingly stated, that mtDNA is easily traced through materlineal studies.[10]
Biomorphisms and Genetic Tracing
The start of the modern mtDNA halpogroup in humans (Homosapien sapiens) can be genealogically traced back through female inheritance to about ±200-250 kya. However, the relative, direct and still consistent relationship between modern humans and this “Mitochondrial Eve” suggests that the modern human mitochondrial genome may go further back to Antediluvian epochs of ±400-800 kya and in relation to hypothesized Homo aeturnus. Thusly, the Green-type/ontokinetic phenomena is also present and consistent through these lineages.
Further extrapolation of mtDNA tracing reveals that the Hume Field manipulation mechanism outlined as the ontokinetic phenomenon is present not only in human subjects, but in all examples of reality-bending earth-based, carbonic life-domains that perform biochemical metabolic processes for the purposes of survival and reproductive propagation. [11]

Why
Conclusion
It would be unfortunately evident that there may be no clear genesis for emergent ontokinetic properties, reality bending capabilities, and the Green-Type phenomena. Though that conclusion, at face value seems to disappoint, we at the research team, deem this discovery a success. We have now in our understanding a near complete picture of how emergent reality works and the Green-Type effect on it, along with a history and lineage as old as life itself. It may be said that in failing to explain why Green-Types exist, we come to a better conclusion of why anything exists in the first place. The two, anomalous and non-anomalous, are not mutually exclusive, with a past that converges on one point. Where the two meet is at the nexus where reality, the universe, and life begin.

Footnotes
1. Doctorate, Foundation Accreditation
2. Clef, et al. C. 2014
3. Caldmann & Rzewski, et al. C. 2014
4. GTs
5. Scranton Reality Anchors, SRAs
6. Quantum Field Theory
7. Anti-deSitter Space/Conformal Field Theory
8. A. Einstein
9. As noted by Dr. Clef in the outline of how emergent Green-Type individuals evolve from Phase 1 to Phase 4
10. Theoretical at unprecedented individual Hume levels

Bibliography
1. MIT, Theoretical Physics, Oxford; MS, Microbiology, Oxford; DFA Interdisciplinary Ontokinetic Studies
2. Dane M Wolf, Mayuko Segawa, Arun Kumar Kondadi, et al. 2016 Individual Cristae within the Same Mitochondrion Display Different Membrane Potentials and are Functionally Independent
3. Onyisi, P. (23 October 2012). "Higgs boson FAQ". University of Texas ATLAS group. Archived from the original on 12 October 2013. Retrieved 8 January 2013.
4. Quantum Hume Theory, An Ontokinetic Look Behind Reality, C.2016, Dr. Jay Wentworth
5. Klebanov and Maldacena 2009
6. Calabi, Eugenio (1954), "The space of Kähler metrics", Proc. Internat. Congress Math. Amsterdam, vol. 2, pp. 206–207, archived from the original on 2011-07-17
7. Nordström, Gunnar (1914). "On the possibility of unifying the gravitational and electromagnetic fields". Physikalische Zeitschrift. 15: 504.
8. Voet D, Voet JC, Pratt CW (2006). Fundamentals of Biochemistry (2nd ed.). John Wiley and Sons, Inc. pp. 547, 556. ISBN 978-0-471-21495-3.
9. Porter, R.; Brand, M. (1 September 1995). "Mitochondrial proton conductance and H+/O ratio are independent of electron transport rate in isolated hepatocytes". The Biochemical Journal (Free full text). 310 (Pt 2): 379–382. doi:10.1042/bj3100379. ISSN 0264-6021. PMC 1135905. PMID 7654171.
10. Wolff JN, Gemmell NJ (November 2008). "Lost in the zygote: the dilution of paternal mtDNA upon fertilization". Heredity. 101 (5): 429–34. doi:10.1038/hdy.2008.74. PMID 18685570. S2CID 5065133.
11. "Towards a natural system of organisms: proposal for the domains Archaea, Bacteria, and Eucarya". Proc Natl Acad Sci USA. 87 (12): 4576–9. Bibcode:1990PNAS…87.4576W. doi:10.1073/


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The Fourth Wandswoman of Chelon was a parody of beauty.
The drooping folds of her skin were immaculately cleaned. Her razor sharp beak was polished to a mirror sheen, and the smell of death from her breath was cleverly mixed with the scent of strawberries to make it almost pleasant.
Even her eyes were wrong. She had perfect mascara, but she also had wide pupils and deep brown irises that covered the entirety of her strange, beady gaze.
But I knew there was kindness in her. True, genuine care buried in terrible suffering.
I'd met women like her before. Not that looked like her exactly, but ones that volunteered in soup kitchens and threw $50 a plate tea parties to raise money for kids with cancer. The kind of woman who was so nice you wanted to stab her.
She just happened to be a hideous vulture monster.
But I looked the same, if less well dressed, so it wasn't like I could talk.
We were sitting in her clean, well appointed office. The only thing unusual about it was a couple of bolts of cloth and a dress form in a corner. The rest of the office could have been taken from anywhere on Earth. Two chairs, a desk, papers, even a computer, though I couldn't tell you the brand.
“So,” she said, “Earth-5, how do you feel about ghosts?”
I blinked at her. “Those are real?”
She nodded. “They are. Note, “ghosts” is a bit of a garbage term. I actually teach a seminar on the different types of incorporeal undead. But they are real, and about as diverse as people. Some of them even work for our organization.”
Now that was a surprise, I thought this little coop had some very specific membership requirements. “Ghosts can take the map?”
Chelon-4 made an uncertain gesture. “It has happened, though it is not common. Most ghosts are nowhere near ‘alive' enough to make choices like that. No, most of the ghosts who work for us are a bit like…” she struggled for an analogy, “like donated organs. If a Wandsman dies and happens to leave a ghost behind, often they will want to continue to help their family or carry on with their research. We have a memorial shrine of sorts where we read their stories, speak of their life, leave offerings, the works. All of these things are simple necromancy, strengthening our ghostly allies. Also, it's just respectful.”
My understanding of the laws of physics was once again shattered, but at this point I was getting used to that. “That's… cool I guess, but what does it have to do with me?”
She pulled out an odd whitish bracelet. “This is a Memento Mori of The Third Wandsman of Deer Run. I wanted to offer it to you while you're learning magic.”
I stared at the strange, beaded thing. “Why?”
“Ghosts like him naturally absorb magic from their surroundings so they can manifest. If you're bleeding off a lot of dangerous magic into the environment, he'll absorb it and appear. It's sort of a “heat sink” for your spell casting, allowing you a modicum more control.”
Suddenly a lot of things clicked into place. “This is because of that crap Dr. Bright pulled isn't it?”
Chelon-4 winced. “For the record, I did suspend him from teaching over that, but he's not wrong that you have the makings of an extremely talented magician and the early training of someone like you can be dangerous without proper safeguards. Please understand that this is just an offer. We're not the SCP Foundation. No one is going to lock you up.”
To be honest I wasn't entirely sure how much I wanted to learn magic in the first place given the oh so rosy picture that psycho cuckoo painted of it. But if I was dangerous without it…
I held out my talon, showing my scaly wrist. “Lay it on me.”
“He uses male pronouns.”
“I know, but ‘lay him on me' sounds way too dirty.”
“Fair enough.”
She slipped on the bracelet.
Instantly, a giant pigeon appeared behind me. “Hello!”
“Gah!” I tumbled out of the office chair in shock.
The pigeon gasped. “Oh dear, I'm dreadfully sorry. I just wanted to introduce myself. Are you alright? I'd offer to help you up, but…” he reached out his talon and it phased right through the chair.
A few things locked into place. “Deer Run-3?”
The pigeon bowed widely. “And you must be Earth-5. Chelon-4 has told me much about you.”
Chelon-4 stood up, beak agape. “You had enough power to manifest just from touching her?”
Deer Run-3 paused. “Yes… that is rather concerning. Don't worry though!” the ghost continued, “Cases of Spontaneous Spellcaster Combustion are quite rare once you've taken precautions.”
I stared at him. “Spontaneous what now?”
Chelon-4 rubbed at her temples. “You never did have the best bedside manner. I fear the two of you are going to be spending a lot of time with each other.”

I found my still human son Johnny in the nearest cafeteria devouring a pair of cheeseburgers and a pile of chili fries off of cookware that looked insanely over-elaborate for the task.
I pulled up a seat next to him “So I'm guessing heart disease is the latest teenage trend?”
He snorted. “Sure… So who's your new friend?”
Deer Run-3 waved. “Hello! I'm Deer Run-3, the ghost in charge of helping your mother control her magic while she's learning.”
I winced. “Deer, do you have to say that so loud?”
He cooed in surprise. “Why? It's nothing to be ashamed of, we all started somewhere and that fact that I'm here implies you're incredibly gifted. If anything I'm a status symbol.”
I groaned. “Yeah, provided I don't blow up.”
Johnny dropped his burger. “You're going to blow up?!”
Nice one Latisha, you really stepped in it there. In my medical career I'd seen scenarios like this play out tons of times. A patient gets better, but then they have to go back in for whatever reason and the kids feel… cheated.
Honestly they deserved to feel cheated. Disease was the most cruel, unfair thing there was in a world that provided a lot of competition.
I wasn't about to lie to my kid, so I turned to Deer Run-3. “Yeah, I'd like some clarification on that. What are the odds that I explode from too much magic?”
Deer Run-3 retreated slightly into his feathers. “I don't want to discourage you from getting a second opinion, but from what I've seen from rather intimate knowledge of your magic, with me on I'd say the odds are at a miniscule .01%. I honestly shouldn't have even brought it up, I'm so sorry about-.”
“What are the odds if I take you off?” I had noticed his qualifier and wasn't about to let him weasel away with it.
He winced. “I… I couldn't be sure without a lot more equipment, but if you're asking for a guess… I'd say 33%?”
“You're never leaving.” Johnny said simply.
Deer Run-3 blinked. “What?”
Johnny stood up from his shockingly empty plate and got right in front of the pigeon.
“You're. Never. Leaving. Got it?”
Deer Run-3's feathers slicked in fear. “Yes sir.”
Johnny nodded. “Glad we understand each other.”
He picked up his empty tray and left.
Deer Run-3 let out a nervous coo. “Your son is scary.”
I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. “Yeah… Yeah, he is.”

<--Prev|Next—>


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More by thd-glasses

Interview log ████KO-AXX-5

Interview date: 02/10/2020
Interviewer: Researcher Hariuchi Eido
Interviewee: James "Bestway" James
Information: Mr James was rescued from an illegal nursing home in Indianapolis run by SCP-████-KO. No identification was available except for a name tag hanging on the bed. The subject actively attempted to communicate, but nobody in the Foundation was able to understand him. Written conversation was impossible, as both of his arms were cut off by SCP-████-KO long time ago.

<Start of log>

Researcher Hariuchi:
— Nice to meet you. Shall we talk?
James:
— Mmph?!!!!??! Mmph?!!??!?! Hmm?!!!??!! Hm??!?!!!?
Researcher Hariuchi:
— (Whispering into the radio) Is this even a real language? It doesn't have any consonants.
Dr Aktus:
— (On the radio) That's why we called you. Do something.
James:
— Hmm?!!!?!!! Hmm?!!?!??? Mmph?!!????! Hmm?!!!?!?? Hm??!!!!!!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— (To himself, on radio) Jesus fucking Christ. Okay, Mr James, I don't know what's wrong… You know what gestures are, right? (Nods his head slowly, than fast) Can you do this?
James:
— (Nodding) Mmph?!!!!??! Mmph?!!??!?! Hmm?!!!??!! Hm??!????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— That's better. Mr James, I ask you to answer yes or no with your head, do you understand?
James:
— (Nodding) Mmph?!!!!??! Mmph?!!??!?! Hmm?!!!??!! Hm??!????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— Mr James, you can just nod.
James:
— (Shakes head vigorously) Hmm?!!?!!!? Mmph?!!?!!!! Hm??!????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— Haaa… I understand. I'll not care what you do as long as you move your head. Now, James, I'll need to know more about your identity so that I could have a better clue as to what you are saying. Do you get me?
James:
— (Nods head) Mmph?!!?!!!! Hmm?!!?!?!! Hm??!?!!!?

<Approx. 8 hours later>

Researcher Hariuchi:
— (Exhausted) Veeeeery well, Mr James. We've come a long way. We now know that you are a U.S. citizen, a resident near the hospital, came here after your retirement as seen in the chart, but not voluntarily, a sane person and have received formal education. Is that correct?
James:
— (Nods head vigorously, almost crying.) Mmph?!?!!??! Mmph?!???!?! Mmph?!?????! Hm??!????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— Now… Is there anything more to know from a yes or no question… Hmm…
James:
— (Catching breath, exhausted.)
Researcher Hariuchi:
— Aagh…Huh? Mr James, you said you received a formal education, right?
James:
— (Nodding) Mmph?!!!!??! Mmph?!!??!?! Hmm?!!!??!! Hm??!????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— Do you speak English?
James:
— (Nodding) Mmph?!!!!??! Mmph?!!??!?! Hmm?!!!??!! Hm??!????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— ????
James:
— (Blinking, struggling to get himself understood.)
Researcher Hariuchi:
— … (Unsure) …A?
James:
— Mmph?!?????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— (Pulls out phone, searches something.) …B?
James:
— Hmm?!????!?
Researcher Hariuchi:
— Question mark?
James:
— Hm??!!!!!!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— Exclamation mark?
James:
— Hm??!????!
Researcher Hariuchi:
— (Screaming) WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE BINARY?? IT'S NOT EVEN MORSE!!
James:
— Hmm?!!?!??? (Expression of happiness and relief.)

<Omitted>

Notes: James was found out to have worked as a computer programmer since the 60s. His tongue seemed fine but was actually fixed to his jaw, rendering him unable of normal speech.


haunted hou- i mean haunted site

▸ More by this Author ◂

{$comments2}

F.A.Q.

{$doesthisfixthebug}

As soon as Duarte sat at his desk, he had to do a double take and retrace his morning.
Dr. James Duarte was the Antimemetics Consultant at Site-148, a small facility in southern Texas. It was the hub where minor anomalies from the southern US and northern Mexico would get held for a bit to get more closely inspected and catalogued, before getting sent off to one of the bigger Sites for containment.
Despite Site-148 being (or at least having been) a decently active part of the Foundation's ops in the area, he could count the amount of times his particular expertise had actually been needed on one hand in his five or six years working there. Honestly, he was somewhat thankful for it; explaining every time something interesting happened what the Antimemetics Division was, that yes, it existed, and that he was their antimemetics guy got tiring after two or three times.
He was a man who was honest with himself. He knew this was a dead-end job, he was probably put there by some supervisor he had pissed off, and was only still working for the Foundation at all because letting someone go or even letting someone quit was a whole thing, especially when their job had involved mnestic drugs for years.
Despite all this, he was comfortable at his post. He could more or less sit at his office and do whatever all day, and still get the pay of a senior staff at a Foundation facility. He had built up a routine for his mornings; every weekday he would wake up, take a shower, drive to Steve's Car Parlor, take the lift down to the site's cafeteria for breakfast and his morning dose of Class-Ws, and head through Administrative to get to his office on Research. Along the way he would at least take a few hard glances at the site as the only person there on mnestics to make sure nothing was incredibly wrong, if only to pretend he had a reason to be there from nine to five.
Today, something was different. He wasn't quite sure what. His perfected daily routine had a dent in it. Had he walked to his office slightly longer than usual? Maybe it was how how everyone else at the cafeteria were carrying themselves, despite the circumstances. He decided to put a pin on the mystery while he finished his coffee and read his emails. Then he noticed it.

To: Site-148 Staff (Group)
From: North American Regional Command (na_command@admin.scp.int)
Subject: Site-148 decommissioning

Good evening.
Due to financial constraints and the recent expansion of Site-84, we, with approval from the O5 Council, have taken the decision to retire Site-148 by the end of the month.
The functions of Site-148 will begin being transferred to Site-84's new wing as soon as possible. Starting tomorrow, all new objects discovered in the area will be sent there instead.
Expect more communication in the coming days to arrange reassignment.
- Grace Roswell, North American Regional Command.

Right. Those circumstances.
Any other time, Duarte wouldn't have batted an eye at the behavior of his coworkers. They were behaving exactly as they always did, but this was strange considering just yesterday they'd had that bombshell dropped on them with no warning. Site-84 had recently expanded their containment areas and added a wing to replace 148's function while they were at it.
It made sense to consolidate that sort of work. Smaller sites are unintuitively harder to keep secret, black vans are a lot more conspicuous coming in and out of Mom and Pop's Scrumptious Crunchy Pizza than a military base. Plus, why hire all the redundant personnel? Site-84 had its own antimemetics people, they could look over new objects that didn't like being known.
He stood up and walked to the office next door, where Calvin worked. He was the closest thing Duarte had to a friend there. Yesterday he was one of the most worried about 148's closing; he was relatively new at the Foundation and had lived his whole life in this town, he didn't wanna uproot his entire life, his family, and move hundreds of miles to work at 84 or 19. Just a minute earlier though, Duarte had passed by his door and seen him calm as ever. He peeked through the door and over Calvin's monitor.
"Hey man, just curious, are you free, like, first Friday of next month after work?" Said Duarte.
"Uhhh yeah sure. Why?" Calvin replied.
"Still gonna ask a couple others. I wanna get something going."
"Cool, lemme know what comes of it."
This made no sense. Everyone got that memo. People were making such a deal of it yesterday the building was shaking. The site was going to be shut down by the end of the month. Anyone who still wanted to work with the Foundation after that would probably need to move.
Perhaps he was the one who had missed a memo. He headed to Director Stanford's office. She was late, just opening up.
"Doctor Stanford, good morning, I-"
Stanford, Stanford. He had been working in this site for over five years and he had never seen this woman before. She couldn't be the director, there was no way.
"Is something wrong?" She asked in a pleasant voice, staring at him as he looked at her suspiciously.
"I just… Did something change? Are they not shutting down the facility?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Dr. Duarte." She knew his name. Huh.
"What? I mean the email from yesterday! They're retiring the site! Why is everyone acting like nothing is happening? Why are those guys down the hall still installing that toil-" He paused as he turned around to point out the door. The hallway outside was wider.
He stuttered and peeked out of the office. The cafeteria was bigger now, more hallways branching off of it. The door to the accountant's office in front of him had a name he couldn't recognize. What little he could see of Research had also grown. He couldn't see his office.
"Excuse me for a second."
He ran out of the Director's office and toward where his should've been. As he reached Research, the hallway to his left looked like what he was used to, only longer. At the end of it, he could see his door. He ran into his office, shut the door, and sat at his desk, panicking.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? He thought. What happened to the director? Why is no one freaking the fuck out? The higher-ups at the Foundation take mnestics, they can't have forgotten. Am I gonna clock out and walk out the door to an MTF pointing their guns at me? Why is the site moving?
He could've kept going. He would've, if not for the notification on his monitor.
He opened the email.

To: Dr. James Duarte (j.duarte@staff.scp.int)
From: site148_noreply@system.scp.int
Subject: Automated System Message

Please don't leave, it's not my fault, I can still be useful. I'm sorry.


I…. I did a huge no-no…
The children I took under my wings rebelled against me when I told them to do what I requested. In defiance, they stopped making toys, so I slaughtered them all, one by one. When the deed was swiftly done, their blood splattered on the little choo-choo trains; I was filled with cheer, feeling the blood on my fingers, making them sticky when I spread them apart. However, the sense of delight later vanished after realizing what I had done, for I started to fear what was coming. Before I could clean up my mess, I heard the sound of joyous whistles and a vast shadow on the lit-up hallway walls. As their festive bells' jingles echoed throughout the cave, I stood still in dread, knowing who it was.
"Ho, Ho, H—! …Oh, shit." It was my master, The Man in Red.
"Master…? Master, I—"
"Silence…! What the hell did you do?"
"Master, they-they weren't listening to me. They were misbehaving."
"I don't give a damn if they were misbehaving. You don't do shit without me giving you permission. I told you if they try crap like that, you'd let me deal with them, right? Why-Why didn't you?"
"It's hard not to do such a thing when everyone… irritates me. I…. I was angry, Master."
"The hell is wrong with you? Killing all my workers 'cause you were pissed off."
"I know…" I said, falling to my knees.
"Get up."
As I started to stand, he grabbed the back of my neck.
"What the hell are you doing, huh," he scolded to my ear. "I'm in a bad spot right now 'cause of you, damn it. When I let go, you're gonna get your shit, and you're gonna get more, ok?"
Apologizing with my groans, he released his hand from my neck, and before he could speak, I picked up my empty bag and rushed to one of the blood-stained walls, waiting for him to choose where I was going.
"What about them," I hesitated, referring to the mess.
"I'm not cleaning this up. You'll worry about it later," he said, kicking a limb.
The Man in Red opened an exit to a place full of trees covered in pure white, his pretty, little purple ring's light illuminating the painted cave. I walked into the space, feeling the white, freezing powder on my feet, leaving bloody prints. I turned to The Man in Red and was only greeted by more trees behind me, leaving me with only my thoughts.
I have worked with The Man in Red for a very long time. So long that he became a paternal figure to me, so letting him down would make me very unhappy. If I make him angry, he beats me. Sometimes he does it just because. so when a day like this comes, I must not disappoint. This is how I can make him proud of me and make the pain stop.
But most importantly, this is another chance to receive a gift I forever desired: to let this world be coated in snow. For many, many years, I have done nothing but what he has asked of me, and I enjoyed every second of it. But, he still hasn't given me what I wanted in return.
When I'm finished, I must ask him about this. I can only do this for so long…

After long moments of treading on the frost, the Sun is now gone, and in the distance is a small homestead. I walked to the little home and peeked through one of the windows. What my little eyes spied upon were two little ones peacefully sleeping in their beds. I pressed my face up to the glass, my breath hitting the window. I watched them sleep with my unblinking eyes as I tapped and scrapped the glass with my fingernails, making a "sh-sh" sound loud enough for them to hear. One woke up, sitting up inside its cover. It uncovered itself and looked around the room in confusion. Seeing my face exposed by the moonlight, we locked eye contact, and after moments of silence, she screamed, waking the other child. They both ran out of the room, yelling "Gloog-ga-gaysh" repeatedly.
"Gloog-ga-gaysh?" What does this mean? While thinking to myself, I saw an orange light seeping through the crack of the door. I quickly fled into the dark abyss and hid behind a tree. Peeping, I could see a man looking out the glass while raising a candle next to his face. He looked to the ground, seeing my footprints. He glanced behind him and hurried out of the room. I could hear muffled arguing, and minutes later, a man wielding an ax and a candle, alongside a woman standing behind him, exited the house. Once they spotted the trail, they slowly followed it, leading to me. Out of panic, I got on all four and quickly ran deeper into the woods, hoping for them to dismiss me as an animal. I calmly waited behind another tree, just wide enough to cover me entirely, and heard the sound of the ground crunching become louder and louder, and the light from the candle become brighter.
"«Thordis, my dear, it's just a critter,»" the man said, stopping in his tracks.
"«'Critter?' No animal has these kind of paws, Björn. Give me one,»" the woman said.
"«Uh… reindeer?»"
"«No, Björn,»" she scoffed.
I peeked around the tree and saw them bickering gibberish at each other. I covered my mouth with my cold hands to keep my lips still from giggling too loud. They continued babbling until the man became frustrated and walked back to the cabin.
"«Thordis, there's nothing to worry about. I'm taking the children back inside before they become ill. My eyes hurt, and I'm too tired for this,»" he yawned, leaving her to her own in the dim woods.
She later followed, constantly glancing behind her, unaware that my eye was looking straight at her.
When they were finally gone, I fell to try knees laughing, my chortles muffled by the sound of the loud winds. The thought of my trick actually working and them being unaware of my existence was laughable for some reason. I couldn't breathe, having to place one of my hands on the ground, trying to keep my balance.
My laughing session quickly ended, leaving me on my back, coughing on the ground. I later sat up, thinking about the couple. There was something about them. They were not who they appeared to be. Outside their flesh and bone, they seem innocent like their children, but inside…. But inside, they were naughty.
By now, I decided what I was going to do with them: I was going to spare them. But, I have no toys, which means there are no gifts to give. What a shame. How could something so fun as killing all your workers be so counterproductive? And now I must pay for my foolishness.

The Sun is now out, its warmth hitting my cold, oily skin. I lurk around the house once more, waiting for something to happen. Through the thin wooden walls, I could hear their muffled voices arguing with each other. I pressed one of my ears against the wall to listen to more of what they were talking about, even though I couldn't understand a word they spoke. I love eavesdropping.
While listening, I could hear heavy footsteps and the sound of a door opening. I quickly hid behind the corner.
"«Enough of the nonsense, all of you,»" The man shouted, exiting the house. "«How many times do I have to tell you that it was just an animal.»"
"«Are you stupid,»" the woman yelled. "«Where are you going?»"
"«Out.»"
"«Out, where? You'll kill yourself.»"
"«Better than listening to you,»" he chuckled. "«Gluggagægir isn't real; he never has been. It was an animal, Thordis, an animal. The children are just bored; they'll make up anything.»"
"«Okay, Björn, then die out there. See if I care. You'll be back in moments,»" the woman said before slamming the door shut.
Poking my head out, I could see the man mutter to himself out of frustration, kicking the snow as hard as he could. I continued to stare at the man, amazed by how he spoke, his body language, and how he looked. It was… appealing to me. Then, while gazing, he turned to me, and I quickly hid. While hiding, I notice my footprints visible on the ground. Before I could do anything, I heard the man mutter to himself and begin walking toward me. But before reaching around the corner, a massive gust of winds flew by, diverting the man's attention to the cold breeze.
"«It's too damn cold out here,»" He grunted, sprinting back to the door.
I could hear the man banging on the door, pleading to come in.
"«Oh, no, you wanted to be out there. You put this on yourself, Björn,»" The woman said, shouting out through one of the windows.
"«Come on, Thordis, don't act like this. What do you want me to say…? I'm sorry.»"
The woman did not respond.
"«…Damn you, Thordis…!»"
As the man continued to try to open the door, I heard the sound of the door breaking, causing the woman to act like my master when I did something bad.
Giving me time, I fled. As the Sun began to set, I saw a pack of foxes fighting over its prey in the distance. This gave me an idea.

The night of gifts is almost upon them. To the children, my gift is Lincoln Logs made out of the legs of the animals that I could catch. It hurts me to kill them, but I had no choice. I'm not used to making toys by myself, but that shouldn't matter. It's the thought that counts, not the gifts. I hope they don't mind the bite marks on them, though. But looking around my environment, I realized I could have used tree branches instead of animals…. Now I feel bad.
However, despite this, I find this more pleasant to work with than wood. Using flesh feels more… right. Maybe if I can make my master very happy this time, he will let the workers make toys with this instead, so they can experience the same enjoyment I'm feeling.
But the thought of it makes me wonder: how good would it feel to use human meat? The more I think about this, the more desiring it becomes. Sadly, knowing my master, that will never happen. If he disappears somehow, leaving me in charge, maybe I can change that.
Perhaps one day….

The family is becoming more and more aware of my existence. Like many days before, I stared at the home, waiting for something to happen, but nothing was the outcome. When they came out, they looked paranoid, glancing around frantically and then rushing back into their home when hearing the slightest noise.
Aching from the boredom, I tried to find more things I could make a gift into. Wandering through the crowded trees, I noticed tiny, little holes inside many of them. Giving them a closer look, I could see a reflection looking straight at me. Having nothing to explore them a bit further, I continued to search for more toys. Finding nothing, I returned and was greeted by fresh footprints on the ground. They weren't mine, nor did they appear similar to the family members. Instead, they looked identical to my master's boots but in various sizes.
I thought nothing of it and carried on.

It is time….
As they peacefully slept, I walked to their door, opening it oh-so-slowly. As I opened it, I hit something. Looking through the crack, I saw pots below me. Moving them aside, I entered the house and was faced with two doors, one leading to the parents, and the other, to the children. I picked the door farthest from me, avoiding the creeks from the floorboards. I opened the door, revealing the kids resting in their little beds. I entered their room, its surroundings exposed by the dark moonlight, and walked to them. I turned to one of them and stared deeply into their closed eyes, hearing their soft breathing from time to time. Still wondering who I was going to take, I came up with an idea: a test of obe—
"Gluggagægir…?" she whispered behind me.
I turned to find the other child was wide awake. I placed my hand on her mouth and said something any child could understand.
"Shhh," I whispered, releasing my hand.
I tucked her back into bed and began walking away from them. There was a spot barely touched by the moonlight in the corner of the room near the exit. I opened the door and pretended that I had left.
"Don't go anywhere, and you will be rewarded," I said, closing the door.
As I hid in the dark abyss, I silently watched the little one sleep, putting her obedience to the test. Not long after, I saw the little one slowly leave her bed.
I give her the simplest demand, and she disregards it. I don't understand. If I can follow my master's every order, why is she struggling to do the same?
Holding in my anger, I waited for her to come to me. Finally, when she reached the door, hesitantly turning the knob, she turned to me, noticing my breathing and looking down at my exposed withered toes.
"Child, what are you doing out of your bed," I quietly asked, leaving the corner, revealing myself.
Before letting out a shout, I rushed to her and closed her airways shut. Hearing the scuffle, the other child woke up. Seeing what I was doing to her sister, she cried for help.
As I tightly held my hands around her neck, its face turning blue and its bloodshot eye slowly turning outwards, the father rushed into the room and opened my flesh with his ax, leaving it inside my waist. I yelled, dropping the child to the floor. The man attempted to retake the ax, but before he did, I grabbed hold of his face and plunged my thumbs through his eye sockets. I pushed him into the kitchen, leaning him onto the table, sliding utensils and bowls to the ground.
The angry side of me deeply relished the moment, hearing his wife's muffled cries and feeling her frail punches as nothing but deep, echoed thuds scrapping my back. After realizing it, I released my grip and turned to her. She stopped beating me, stepping away in horror. I slapped her and pushed her away, making her fall over, hitting the edge of their chimney with the back of her head. She went limped, her eyes still open, but nothing was inside.
Watching her body twitch, her arched arms partially in the air, I turned to the man, seeing him on the floor, the side of his face covered with vomit, blood, and splattered leftovers. I left him to his lonesome and grabbed a lit candle in their room. I grabbed the ax and pulled it as hard as I could, pushing the handle up and down to slide it out. After taking the ax out of my body, I leaned the burning wick to my wound, scorching my flesh. The pain was unbearable, but it felt so… thrilling. After fusing my flesh together, I placed the melting candle on the stained table. I later entered the children's room, trying to find the other girl. She was nowhere to be seen. I walked to her bed, stepped over her sister's cold body, and looked under it. I found her quietly crying to herself. Noticing me, she cowered, eventually pressing herself up against the wall. My arm slowly reached for her, making her panic.
"Calm yourself, child. It's all right," I said, caressing her cheek and wiping her tears with my thumb, smearing blood on them.
I slid her out under her bed and held her like she was a child of my own.
"You listened to me, and for that, you shall be rewarded," I said, covering her eyes to avoid seeing the… mess I made.
Before stepping out the door, I tipped the candle onto the floor, starting a fire. I don't know why I did it. I felt like I had to. I left the burning house, still holding the little girl against my chest to try to keep her warm, and in the distance, I heard static and saw more strange footprints from the day before. People in black suits appeared behind the trees. I could barely tell who they were, only seeing a strange symbol on their arms with three arrows pointing at each other. My parental instincts quickly faded, and I used the child as a shield.
"Control, we found our target, but it seems to be holding one of our remaining Class-D captive," one man said to himself. "He's too dangerous to keep active. Requesting neutralization."
I cautiously stepped back without looking away, going deeper into the forest. Not knowing what to do, I tossed the little girl to them as a distraction and ran away as fast as I could. Behind me, I could hear loud noises and something constantly whistling in my ears. After running for what felt like hours, I realized that the whizzing sounds had stopped. I later calmed myself, resting near a tree.
My side hurts, I only found one house, and I lost the child. This was not how it was supposed to go. Contemplating my recent failures, I slumped against the tree, looking down at my bloodied hands. While staring intensely into them, a faint light appeared in front of me. I looked up to see The Man in Red looking not so…. Not so cheerful anymore.
"Come. Here," he said sternly.
I entered back into my chamber, accidentally leaving the empty bag behind. I could see he was not happy. I was quiet but later spoke to try to ease the tension.
"Master, I didn't mean t—"
"You had one job. One job, and what do you do? You fuck it up."
"I'm sorry, m—"
"No, shut it," he said, hitting me. "I'm low on elves, and out of all the years you could've done this, you do it when I'm at a shortage. God, this is worse than my Coca-Cola ad campaign! You need to do it again."
"They hurt me, look," I pointed, showing him my torn wound. "I just can't, master. It hurts too much."
The pain in my waist started to come back but even worse, making it hard for me to breathe. I pleaded with him, but he didn't listen.
"Look, I'm not asking you; I'm telling you," he clenched his teeth. "I don't give a reindeer's ass if it hurts. Hell, you definitely deserve it by messing up this badly. Do it again, but no mess-ups this time."
As he continued to ignore my concerns, my frustration grew, and a red hue slowly blurred my eyesight.
I was angry.
Fogged by my thoughts, I stared at him, ignoring his commands.
"Hello…? Stop staring at me and get off your ass. I'm not playing," he said.
"Master… when will you give me what I want," I breathed heavily.
"What are you—? Not this again," he sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you that you'll get it soon, all right?"
"You've been saying that for a very long time, master," I yelled. "And I'm starting to get—"
"What? Annoyed? Oh, please, shiver me-fuckin'-timbers, what are you gonna do? Christ, you're making me nag more than my wife," he said, hitting me yet again. "Do what the hell I say and get out there."

(No….)

(No….)

"No."
"What do you mean, 'No?' Stop pissing—" Before he could hit me a third time, I caught his arm and grabbed his neck.
"Master, why must you lie to me?"
"What are you doing," his voice shallowed, struggling to speak.
"Something I should have done a long, long time ago." I smiled, showing my crooked teeth.
"You dumb bastard, I-I created you! You can't do this t—!"
Crunch….
Without hesitation, I pierced his jolly, red cheek with my teeth. The sounds he made were… delightful. Then, as I was chewing his chubby flesh, ripping it piece after piece, I broke bits of ice I found on the freezing walls and put them in my mouth. Oh, how I love the taste of cold blood settling on my tongue.
When I was done, The Man in Red became redder than before. After realizing what I had done, his breath being no longer visible in the air, I felt no shame or grief whatsoever. I felt…. I felt relieved, knowing he was not around to tell me what to do anymore. I am… free.
Still dining on his flesh, I could hear his glowing ring slightly scraping the ground. No one should waste a beautiful thing like this, so I removed it from his lonely finger and wore it. I felt better for some reason.
After finishing my feast, I realized the cut on my waist had healed instantly. I was… confused? Did the ring give me powers…? Testing to see if it was true, I tried to make a portal like The Man in Red did many times, and… it worked. Happy with the results, I left the now brown-suited, devoured corpse in another snowy landscape, never to be seen again.
Even after being lied to for the entirety of my existence, I still felt sad, knowing the happiness I got from having children working around me was not needed anymore. The man that used me is now dead. No more him… no more Christmas.
(…)
(…)
But that doesn't mean the fun has to end....


Buzz. Buzz.
As the phone vibrated in my pocket, I picked it up and brought it to my ear.
"An eagle fell in the field over here," the deep, male voice told me.
"I'll send my bud John with his pickup over," I responded, completing the code phrase.
"Project Godbreaker is a go. You're needed for the ritual as soon as you can get here."
"Fuck! I told them I was out of it, I wasn't continuing if I had to basically fucking kill myself," I stated, anger filling my voice.
"You're still required. Your particular skill set is needed, given that the other potential Blues don't apply for this," he told me, his voice remaining cold and calculated.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and closed my eyes, collecting myself. "Dammit. Is it still the same position as before?" I inquired, returning the phone to the side of my head.
"Yes. Report to Site-17 as soon as possible, you'll be briefed there." As he finished his final word, the phone clicked and he hung up.
"Fuck!" I whisper-shouted to myself. I racked my brain trying to remember the details of the project.

"…to be conducted to counteract the growing threat to the natural order of the world from entities theological in nature."
"A ritual is to be conducted, incorporating several thaumatologists from varying religious faiths, in which their Akiva Radiation regarding their religion will be amplified and absorbed by the ritual."
"… despite this, Foundation thaumatologists involved are at a high likelihood of a permanent cutoff from Akiva Radiation and various other anomalous life forces, resulting in death."

My posture drooped and I lowered myself to the floor as I remembered what was going to happen. I sat there for several minutes, debating my options.
I wiped the worried and stressed expression off my face, before standing up and stepping through the hallway, into the living room, where Liv sat.
She held her head in her hands, beginning to break down after minutes of discussing. "Why does it have to be like this? Why do you have to leave?" she questioned me.
"I don't want to… I don't want to leave everything behind," I replied, hanging my head down.
"Then don't. Stay here with me, everything can just… just-" she tried to say, but was interrupted by the tears streaming down her face.
"You know I can't do that, hon. They need me. The Foundation doesn't just let people not show up. Especially in times like these."
She wrapped her arms around herself and tightened her posture. "There has to be some other way. They can't just take you away, Michael. From me, from this, from us," she said, motioning around to the room.
"It doesn't work like that. Fuck, ever since we got engaged, you've been consulting there. You know the shit that goes down there, what the facilities are like. You know just as well as I do that this is important, and I can't just walk away." A tear rolled down my face as I said it, my emotions peaking.
The room fell silent for several moments. She looked up at me, her face contorted with rage. The tears had stopped flowing and begun to dry on her face.
"Is it too much for me to want my husband?" she exploded, "To want to live the rest of my life with you?"
"It's not that simpl-" I tried to spit out.
"First, you're gone all the time. 'Containing' all these things across the world. You're never home. And now you're leaving? Forever? Why do you have to be the one to save the fucking world? Aren't there other people in the Foundation who can do this?"
"It's not that simple, hon. We both know this. It's important, and I can't just walk away. I don't want to be the one who has to do it, but there just aren't other options for this," I told her, tears continuing to drip down my face.
"Is it so selfish of me to just want my husband? I want to wake up next to you every day, not in a cold bed, alone and sad." She began to tear up again, her eyes becoming watery.
"It isn't… but I have to go. There's so much at stake here. I'm… I'm sorry. Just, please, promise me you'll never be afraid, not sad, just… loving."
Her anger melted away as I spoke. I wiped the tears from my eyes and she embraced me. Wet drops hit the back of my shirt as she sobbed.
We held each other for several minutes before I stood up and grabbed my things.
"I promise."
"Remember me by the good times, the laughing and happy ones… I'm sorry, Liv," I told her, wiping my tears away again and preparing to step out the door.
She grabbed my hand, pulling me back. With her other hand, she slipped a gold necklace into it. As she released my hand, I studied it for a moment- a gold chain necklace, with a small pendant, and a picture of her from many years ago encased within.
"Promise me whatever happens to you after you step out that door, you'll remember me," she asserted, fighting through sobs.
"I will," I responded, beginning to walk out the door.
I stopped at the doorway and turned to see her crying face. "I love you. Ever since we met those years ago, I have, and I won't ever stop," I told her.
"I… love you too," she told me through tears.
I slowly stepped into the car and turned it on. The radio blared to life, and I quickly fought to silence it. I shook my head at the irony of "Fiction", and turned on the headlights. She stood in the doorway, sobbing as I began to reverse. I fought back tears and escaped the driveway.
The cool, damp wind whipped my face as I rode down the highway. The dark emptiness and silence filled me, and something in my head clicked. My decision was made.
"Someone has to keep the monsters at bay. Someone has to die in the dark," I told myself. I clutched the necklace tightly to my chest and floored the accelerator.


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