A Tale Of Two Mailrooms - SCP Foundation

"SCP Misplaced Mail Division — Secured, Certified, Postage"

A Tale of Two Mailrooms

Moira Fernsby surveyed the scene before her and knew that there was a lot of work to be done.

How is it possible to look like you actively are not using an office?

She sighed, shaking her head. She was standing in Emerald Reynolds' office — not that you would know that, since the only personalization was the name plate on the door. It looked like Emerald was just moving in, but she had been using this room as the Site Director's office for months now.

There was a standard issue Foundation desk, a plain black office chair, stacks of unsorted papers, forms and articles, and… and nothing else.

I swear, if I wasn't around, she wouldn't even have a chair.

Moira took her job seriously — while she and Emerald were in charge of their own sites, the reality, as with their facilities, was a bit more blended than that. When things were good, Moira led the charge, her positive energy a beacon for the rest of their sites. When things were bad? That was when Emerald took control, decisively solving their crises with ease.

Things were good at the moment, and Moira was thriving. Having just finished planning the upcoming month's birthday celebrations, she had come to Emerald's office for her weekly routine; it was time for her to restock the food, drinks and snacks. Director Reynolds never asked her to do this, nor did she think Emerald even noticed. That didn't matter. The important part was that Emerald was eating food, something that she would continually forget to do without Moira's constant reminders.

As Moira sorted the pages on Emerald's desk, a small note caught her eye. More specifically, it was a to-do list, if Emerald's scrawl was anything to go off of. One item on the list was circled repeatedly, stars and asterisks decorating the borders: Sort Out the Mishandled Mail and Packages

Moira skimmed the other tasks remaining on the list and smiled to herself. After last week? I owe her.

It was time to help Emerald for a change.

Moira Fernsby brushed the sweat from her brow, struggling to catch her breath. She had just finished sorting the acromatic-abatement overflow into what she called 'trash and recyclables' — with minimal explosions this time too! Moira checked the list she had folded in her pocket.

I've finished a lot but… how is there still more to do? And I haven't even started on the mail yet.

"Fernsby, did you fall into the acro-abatement waste tubes again?"

Moira smiled, recognizing the dry, beleaguered tone of Director Reynolds, as she turned to see her walking through the doorway, giving a tired wave.

"Not this time! I just decided to pitch in and tidy up our shared facilities since I had the time. What are you up to?"

Emerald didn't reply. Moira watched as she stared off into the distance, unfocused and exhausted.

"When was the last time you slept?" Moira asked, in a quieter tone.

"Huh?" Emerald answered, having regained focus. "Right, sorry; thanks for the help, Moira, but you didn't have to do this. I was going to handle it right after I finished balancing the dual budgets, coordinating the MTF response standards, requisitioning the—"

As much as Moira would have enjoyed listening to Emerald go on for even longer, she had a slip of paper burning a hole in her pocket. There was plenty left, after all, no time to waste.

"I'm actually just going to head out now, Emerald, but I'll see you around?"

As Moira began walking to the door, Emerald called back out.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

Shit. I can't tell her about the to-do list, if she finds out, she won't let me help her anymore. Come on Moira, do what you do best — envision success, actualize your power, and seize the day!

Unfortunately for Moira, all she managed to answer with was: "I'm helping."

Ah well, you can't win them all.

"Helping what? I was planning on getting to this in a day or two, I had a—"

Shit! Abort, I need to distract her!

"Oh, actually, I need some help."

Like a person waking from a trance, Emerald focused intently on Moira, her pale blue eyes piercing through her soul. Moira blushed.

"How can I help you, Moira?"

Directors Emerald Reynolds and Moira Fernsby stood in front of a nondescript, sealed door. They were in a disused section of the many utility and access tunnels that sprawled underneath their two facilities, a happy accident occurring when the two construction crews knocked a hole into their wall, creating a single massive basement.

Command was not happy when they realized that it wasn't just an anomalous basement. It was an admin error.

"So what is this, Fernsby? This access tunnel hasn't been used in months."

Moira looked around for a pry-bar, and having found a thin shim of metal, began trying to pry the wood off of the door. As she did so, she explained.

"I was trying to figure out what happened to all the mail at the site. It's weird, but I never thought about how the mail goes to each office, chamber or a personal locker. Did you know we don't actually have a mail person?"

We don't?

"What?" Emerald said, joining her in prying the wood off. "That can't be right. It must just be an overlap issue again."

"That's what I thought. But no, there are no mail staff on payroll, or hell, even on Site!"

"Who delivers the mail?"

Instead of answering, Moira gave a knowing smile and held her finger up to her nose. Reynolds scowled.

She knows I hate it when she keeps secrets from me, is she going to keep—

Emeralds thoughts were interrupted by a loud crack, as the wood sealing the door split in two, breaking off and falling to the floor. A cloud of dust kicked up, and the impact rang throughout the empty halls — but they were in.

Moira jumped in excitement, physically skipping over and blocking the doorway. She turned and looked at Emerald, her excitement threatening to boil over.

"Are you ready?" Moira asked, holding out her hand for Emerald to take. She hesitated.

What is Moira planning?

Before Emerald could even think, Moira grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the room. She dramatically flung her hands around the walls, searching for a light switch. After some adorable fumbling, the chamber came to life with the switch.

The two women found themselves in a small room that they had never been in. Lettering on the wall read "SCP — Misplaced Mail Division". In smaller text below, it read "Secured, Certified Postage". Neither woman recognized the slogan. The floors — well, you couldn't really see the floors. Unfortunately for the two women, massive piles of letters, boxes and assorted deliveries filled the room, pouring out of tubes and pipes that lined the sides of the walls.

"What is this place?" Emerald asked, eyeing the previously undiscovered room with trepidation.

"I was reading through the original proposal for the site, I mean sites, and noticed that there was supposed to be a new system tested at this Site; an anomalous mail sorting and delivery system, intended to remove the busy work and to help efficiency." Moira began to slowly trudge her way through the mail piles, clearing a small working area on a large, flat table in the middle of the room.

"But?" Emerald knew the story wasn't finished, Moira did love to drag things out.

"But! In the wake of the Twin Sites being finished, and the headaches that came with that, nobody remembered that this existed. Nobody was hired for the misplaced mail department, nobody even realized it existed! Months later, the room was sealed up as part of a routine measure to reduce vectors of entry to secure sites, and remained closed ever since."

Now I get it. Emerald realized, looking around the room.

"But they never turned it off. So any mislabeled mail—"

"Ended up here. Yeah. Isn't that cool?"

Emerald stared at her energetic friend and shook her head.

"So, what's the plan then?"

Moira bent over, and stood back up with an armful of letters. "Do you want to commit a federal crime with me?"

It had been hours since Moira and Emerald first gained access to the lost mail room, but to an outside viewer, it seemed like it had only been minutes.

So far, Moira had made piles for current employees and former employees, which were slowly filling up as the two directors went letter by letter, ensuring that nothing was missed. While she had taken point on sorting the mail, Emerald had gone a… Different direction.

Moira watched as her friend threw another bundle of junk mail into a small metal cylinder, pulling the lid shut and watching in delight as the contents burst into flames and faded to ash in seconds — she didn't know where, but Emerald had found an old portable incinerator, and was having a delightful time.

See? She can have fun. I wish the others could see— on second thought, I don't think they need the added fear of Emerald, the firebug.

"Do we even have a Joseph Cunningham on staff? I don't think they're in mine."

"Cunningham? I don't believe so. Why?"

Moira gestured at the giant pile of mail in front of her.

"Why? This!"

Emerald fixed with her with a quizzical stare. "What do you mean? So what, he got a bunch of letters. They probably just sent them to the wrong Site."

"Yeah, maybe, but that wouldn't explain this." Moira thrust a letter across the deck, showing it to Emerald.

"Does that say 'Joysep Cunnunningum'?" Emerald asked, unsure if she was reading it correctly.

"It does say 'Joysep Cunnunningum', but that's not even the worst part!"

Emerald sighed, returning to the unsorted letters.

"Wait, Emerald! Don't you want to know the worst part?"

Moira is going to tell me anyways, won't she? Better if I smile back then.

Emerald smiled, inviting Moira to continue, a chance she would not turn down.

"The worst part is I don't know if that was meant for Joyseth Cunningham or Joseph Cunnunningum. We have other letters with both names on them."

"We do?"

"We have even more like that, just slightly different."

The two women looked at the headache it would cause if they tried to get to the bottom of this mini-mystery, and decided to embrace Reynold's new passion — epistolary pyrokinetics.

"What are you staring at?" Emerald asked.

Shit.

Up until that point, Moira had been very happily zoned out, imagining what her life would have been like if she'd stayed out with her family. Another insignificant spec in a field of agriculture and empty dreams — at least it would be less stressful than her real life.

The unfortunate coincidence was that she had been looking directly at Emerald for the past 5 minutes. And unfortunately, Moira didn't realize that fact until she had already been called out.

"Hey, what do you have over there?"

Nice one self, I bet she barely noticed. Emerald stared back, unimpressed. Maybe she noticed a bit.

"This? It's a package."

Moira rolled her chair over, sitting beside Emerald, both women staring at the blank, brown box.

"Does it have a label?" Moira asked, a mixture of excitement and hesitation forming.

"Nope. I wonder what's in it?"

The two women leaned back and look at each other. After a moment, they nodded and spoke in unison. "We need to—"

"—open it!" Finished Moira, resoundingly confident in her choices.

"—secure it, as per procedure." Finished Emerald, sure of her answer.

"What?" they said, staring at the other in disbelief.

"You don't want to know what's inside?" Moira was acting like a kid on Christmas, and she was proud of it. "What if it's super cool or awesome?"

"What if it's an anomaly? A cognitohazard? A bomb? You really want to take that risk?"

"… But it could be something fun." Moira knew that she was slowly losing this battle, but had a secret ace up her sleeve.

She looked at Emerald with the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster, and stared longingly at the package. "Pleeeease can I open it Emerald?"

Emerald snorted — Moira's head snapped to watch as Emerald began to double over in laughter, unable to keep her usual calm, levelheaded demeanor.

"I— I mean—" Emerald was struggling to catch her breath in between fits of laughter, stuttering as she spoke. "Moira."

"Yes Emerald?"

"Okay, you can open the box." Emerald said, finally calming down enough that she stopped laughing.

"Yay! But wait, what made you laugh so much?"

Emerald's eyes met hers, and for once, Moira saw the undeniable spark of mischief staring back.

"When you make your puppy dog eyes, all I can think about is when you tried that with command, when you were pitching our site's increased budgets. I can't believe it worked then."

"But it worked, didn't it?"

Moira knew the answer — it usually worked out.

Just not today. The package ended up being a disappointment, an old dusty textbook meant for a different site — not even Moira could make that interesting. It had only taken a few hours more, but the two women had finally got the room under control. The mail had been sorted into neat piles, with plans for how to distribute and deliver them already created by Emerald. The floor was visible, and everything was in order.

That's what a good job looks like. Emerald thought to herself, surveying the room. "We did a good job, Moira. Look at this place."

"It looks incredible! Thank you again, I wouldn't have been able to do this without you."

"Of course, it was my pleasure to assist you in this." Emerald gave her a gentle, if forced, smile. Remember what Moira's told you before: people like it when you smile.

"Oh em gee girl, we need to get that stick out of your butt! Come on, loosen up!" Moira playfully shook Emerald, who looked back with a genuine smile.

"You're right, Moira; thank you again for inviting me along. I enjoyed this, we should do this more."

That shows that I had fun today, right? As overwhelming as Moira can be, I enjoy my time with her.

"This? What if instead we just… I don't know, hung out casually?"

Oh, right. Emerald thought to herself. That's how you make a friend.

"That sounds lovely. You can access my calendar, feel free to book a casual event through it, and I'll ensure that I make it."

Moira shook her head, mussing up Emerald's pushed back hair. The two women turned around, and started to leave the room, when they both heard a loud crack from the middle of the mailroom.

The two spun just in time to see a deformation in spacetime fading into itself, leaving behind a floral arrangement. A gorgeous amber glass vase held an exploding bouquet of flowers, fresh and dried. The mums and hydrangeas gave way to baby's breath and greenery that filled the space with a delicately sweet aroma — all in all, it was a sensory delight.

"What the hell are those?" Moira asked, approaching the flowers without hesitation.

"I think it's… mail?" Emerald said, unsure of the right answer as she slowly inched towards the unknown object.

"Oh, that would make sense. With the crack noise, I guess that means it was addressed wrong and— yeah, right here, look at the tag. It says 'To The Director of Site-40—'. Guess the smudge was enough for it to end up here?"

"What are we going to do with them?"

"Well, I mean, who wouldn't like these lovely flowers? Why don't we decorate your office with them, to give it more life?" Moira looked at Emerald excitedly.

She's been angling to redesign my office for months, and I'm not going to give in now.

"What if you took them? As a thanks for all of the shared responsibilities you handled today? Plus they were probably meant for you anyways, I don't think anybody we work with would be sending me flowers."

"Hey! That's not true, people like you! Well… I like you!" Moira shouted, a goofy look on her face as she picked up the bouquet of flowers.

She likes me? Emerald blushed slightly. How do people normally respond to that?

"I like spending time with you too, Fernsby."

Moira watched as Emerald shifted her weight back and forth.

I can't believe she just said that she enjoys spending time with me! Hell yeah, mission accomplished!

Moira took a deep breath of the bouquet in her arms and relaxed instantly. The sweet and gentle smell of honeysuckle brought her right back into her childhood, filling her with bittersweet nostalgia.

"Shall we go?" Emerald asked, having regained her composure.

Moira nodded, and the two began to leave the newly cleaned and renovated Mail Sorting Room, a job well done.

I need to get Emerald something in return for letting me take the flowers. I bet they were from her secret admirer, she just won't admit it…

Emerald unlocked the door to her apartment, shaking off the stress and chaos of the day. As soon as the two directors had finished in the basement, the swarms of people who had been trying to find them all showed up at once. After hours more of playing catch up, Emerald had finally finished just before midnight, by far the last person working; it wasn't unusual, and she didn't mind pitching in a bit extra.

Where Emerald would normally be greeted with her standard partial organization and semi-clean apartment, she froze as she was caught off guard.

A break-in?

No, not a break-in. The place was cleaner than when she left this morning, her piles having been organized, tidied and decluttered. Everything was in it's perfect place, and there was no leftover mess or dirty plates lining the sink.

The thief… cleaned?

Emerald noticed the pointed petals and blossoms of white flowers scattered on the floor, leading from the front door to her bathroom. White Gardenias. Interesting choice.

Sensing no danger, Emerald took of her shoes and walked the floral-lined pathway to her bathroom, and opened the door. She was greeted by the gentle glow of candles and a warm lavender scent that put her mind and body at ease. The bathtub was somehow filled with piping hot water, petals floating on the surface. On the edge of her tub, next to an open bottle of wine and a glass, sat a plain white note. It was addressed to her.

"Emerald." She began, reading the letter aloud. "You work too hard, and constantly push yourself beyond your limits. I am amazed by your kindness and desire to help; so you've inspired me to help you back. Hopefully you don't find it too weird that I broke into your apartment just to clean and prepare this? Anyways, enjoy the bath, let yourself actually relax for once, and know that I wouldn't know what to do without you. Sincerely, Moira."

Emerald didn't know what to say — she didn't even know what to think. Moira did all of this, for me? She shouldn't have. I'm just doing my job, right?

Even in her own mind, it still sounded like she didn't believe it.

The candle beside her crackled, pulling her from her thoughts and back into the present. No sense letting this go to waste, right?

She began to undress, removing the dirt, sweat and grime of the day — as she was taking off her pants, something rustled in her pocket. Right, better remove that before laundry. Grabbing a receipt from the pocket, she tossed it out in the trash can. Pausing to pour herself a glass of wine, she finished undressing, slowly dipping her toes into the water.

I don't know how she did it, but that's the perfect temperature.

As she submerged herself into the tub, took a sip of wine, and let the stress of the day wash away, Emerald couldn't help but smile.

Today was a pretty good day.

Emerald closed her eyes, drifting away from the stressors of life, her day with Moira replaying in her mind.

As Emerald relaxed in the tub, the receipt in the trash slowly unfurled. The store's name at the top became visible.

Abnormal Floral: All Your Flower Needs, Always Delivered in Under Two Hours

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