Make Your Mother Sigh - SCP Foundation

Peter took a deep breath with a million thoughts going through his head. This was, after all, the first time he had been given full control over an anomaly. He had read a brief summary of the anomaly and remembered something about an “entity,” but other than that he was absolutely clueless on what the anomaly was. For his safety, he brought a guard with him. He slid his keycard across the scanner and the chamber’s door opened.

Upon walking inside the room, Peter noticed a manilla folder on the table closest to him. As he got closer to it, the lettering on it became visible. “SCP-043” was printed near the top. He opened up the folder and found the corresponding file.

SCP-043, inside its sleeve.

Item #: SCP-043

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-043 requires no special containment, although it is recommended that SCP-043 not be used for purposes other than testing. A turntable is to be maintained in the same room for testing.

Description: SCP-043 appears to be a vinyl copy of "The White Album" by the Beatles; however, upon closer inspection, the record has no grooves. In spite of this, the record will play from start to finish regardless of the starting position of the needle.

When the twenty-ninth track is reached, instead of playing "Revolution 9", the disc stops spinning and faint breathing can be heard. Occasionally the entity responsible for the breathing will speak in a male voice. The entity will respond to questions and shows a profound encyclopedic knowledge of the music industry, musical theory, and obscure trivia about many bands and artists. However, the entity refuses to answer questions regarding The Beatles or its own personal details.

Inside the jacket, a small handwritten note was found, reading:

Limited Edition: 1/1

Thanks, John!

xxx

Upon realizing his mistake about the supposed “entity,” he turned to the guard. “Hey, I think I misunderstood. You can leave if you’d like.” Even with the guard’s protective head covering it wasn’t hard to see his irritation. He nearly broke the keycard scanner on his way out. As soon as the door closed, Peter felt somewhat relieved. “Looks like I dodged a bullet there.” He turned back to the rest of the room.

It was almost like it had been previously used for interrogation, with some adjustments that better suited testing. For starters, there was now a door connecting the observation room to the other room located on the right-hand side. There was a large glass pane allowing for observation into both rooms, as a one-way seemed counterproductive. There was a button that allowed for the researcher conducting the experiment to speak via intercom with the subject, although it seemed rather redundant with such a benign anomaly. Peter stepped into the testing room after scanning his card.

In the room was a vinyl copy of the Beatles’ white album, a record player (with an accompanying speaker), and a folded chair. Peter looked down at his hands to find he had already put gloves on without realizing it. Huh. Must just be a habit now. He removed the second vinyl from its protective case, which was oddly smooth, and placed it on it’s side labeled “4” onto the player. With a click, clack, and the drop of a needle, the record began playing. At first, he could barely hear anything, but just faintly make out an acoustic guitar. Then, he was attacked with the sound of an electric guitar with (what he could only imagine to be) well over a hundred decibels. He rushed to the speaker to turn down the audio. He turned down the treble as well. Fuck. I hope no one heard that. He unfolded the chair and sat down.

After Honey Pie, Peter’s impatience got the best of him as he stood up to change the position of the needle to later in the track. The music stopped for a moment as he changed the needle to be what should’ve been the end of the album. Instead, he heard what he had heard before, albeit much quieter. Although initially confused, he remembered a line from the document he read:

the record will play from start to finish regardless of the starting position of the needle.

Shit. He realized he would have to sit through the entirety of the 4 side without a break. Well, I might as well get some work done. He left the chamber briefly to fetch his computer before returning to some of the Beatles’ lesser-known works.

…

As John Lennon faded out saying “make your mother sigh,” Peter was startled by the abrupt end to the vinyl’s rotation. He heard something breathing. Where the fuck is that coming from? Is it behind me? He turned around as his laptop fell to the floor; there was nothing there. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Peter kept turning looking for the source of the breathing. A rough voice with a British accent spoke.

“Yes, I’m here!” Peter found that the voice wasn’t coming from the speaker, but rather from the record itself. He took a moment to collect himself before remembering why he was there. He picked up his laptop while replying.

“Sorry! You startled me there. I’m Dr. Best, although you make call me Peter if you’d like.” The entity began cackling at his response.

“Peter Best! Oh, what are the odds of that? Bloody hilarious.” Peter couldn’t resist chuckling.

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that. Like the old Beatles drummer right?” The room became silent for what felt like an eternity. The absurdity of Peter’s situation dawned on him. I’m fucking talking to a record. He figured the best thing he could do was get himself familiar with the entity. “I don’t believe I ever caught your name.” There was more silence. He recalled another line from the file:

the entity refuses to answer questions regarding The Beatles or its own personal details.

Peter tried his best to redirect the conversation. “So, what’s your favorite chord?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one! I think I’d have to say this one!” The record began spinning rapidly, going through side 4 again before stopping where Lennon’s voice says “better” in Cry Baby Cry. “Can’t for the life of me remember what it’s called, but—“

“A7. It’s called an A7.” Peter jumped to answer as the words poured out of his mouth.

“I think you’re bloody right! Perfect pitch?”

“Yeah, I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

“I used to have it as well, but ‘pparently you lose it if you don’t use it!”

“Haha, yeah.” Peter realized what he had done. It just told me about itself. Maybe if I keep asking questions about music like this I’ll know more. “So, have you always loved seventh chords?”

“Something about the lack of a resolve just speaks to me, y’know?”

“I understand that. I’ve been pretty similar. So, do you only listen to the Beatles or do you listen to anything else.”

The entity’s voice began to be hostile. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. If this is all you’d like to talk about, then I will be leaving. Good—“

“Wait! Please don’t go, we were just having a lovely time. You said you used to have perfect pitch right?”

The entity still seemed slightly hostile, but began to relax. “Yes. When I was a kid, my mom would always play the piano. From that, I got the ability to identify notes just from sound. Today though, I’m a couple of cents off. Hurts, you know?”

“You said your mother used to play the piano, correct?”

“Ah yes, she—“ distortion began to emanate from the speaker. Peter covered his ears but could make out the entity. Or at least, what he thought was the entity. The entity now had an accent matching his own, sounding desperate and in disparity. “Peter, you’ve got to help me! I don’t know where I am; I don’t know who I am anymore. Please, before he comes back! Oh God, I—" the distortion overpowered the voice and Peter could no longer make out any words. And then, just as quickly as it started, the distortion ended. All Peter could hear was now the sounds of "Good Night."

"What the fuck?" The song grew louder in volume. Peter tried to make his way out of the room, but the door wouldn't open; the pure distortion just a few moments prior had caused the keycard scanner to completely break. He rushed to turn off the speaker, but even when it was unplugged the music continued. Peter screamed and writhed in pain. He fell to the floor, and the music stopped. At least, it did for a moment. The record began repeating "cry" over and over again. Peter tried to use his radio as best he could.

"Hello? Is anyone there? I need an agent at SCP-043's chamber as soon as possible, please—" the radio only gave static, still barely audible by the rest of the sounds in the room. Suddenly, the room went quiet. At least, it did for a moment. Peter soon heard the breathing again. This time, it sounded exhausted. As if it had just dug a grave and was drenched in sweat. "Hello? Are you there?" Silence.

"I— I'm here." The voice was staggered, gasping for breath in between syllables. "Sorry, I had something I had to take care of."

"What were you taking care of?" Peter could hear his own heart beating a strange, unusual rhythm. One beat, then followed by two, repeated again and again.

"It's— it doesn't matter." The breathing still gave sign of the entity's fatigue. "What the hell do you want to know?"

"I want to know what the fuck just happened."

"One hundred and twenty. One hundred and twenty fucking decibels."

"What?" Peter couldn't tell what worried him more: his heart or the vague statements.

"That was what you heard." The entity slowing began to regain its composure. "I'll be going now." Silence was still in the room. "The name's Brian, by the way. Cheers." As the record stopped revolving, Peter began to feel ill. All he could do was try to make it to the door, but his head reached the floor before his hand could reach the doorknob.

SCP-043, inside its sleeve.

Item #: SCP-043

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-043 requires no special containment, although it is recommended that SCP-043 not be used for purposes other than testing. A turntable is to be maintained in the same room for testing.

Description: SCP-043 appears to be a vinyl copy of "The White Album" by the Beatles; however, upon closer inspection, the record has no grooves. In spite of this, the record will play from start to finish regardless of the starting position of the needle.

When the twenty-ninth track is reached, instead of playing "Revolution 9", the disc stops spinning and faint breathing can be heard. Occasionally the entity responsible for the breathing will speak in a male voice. The entity will respond to questions and shows a profound encyclopedic knowledge of the music industry, musical theory, and obscure trivia about many bands and artists. However, the entity refuses to answer questions regarding The Beatles or its own personal details.

Inside the jacket, a small handwritten note was found, reading:

Limited Edition: 1/1

Thanks, John!

xxx

Addendum: On 22 November, 2022, researcher Peter Best mysteriously collapsed just after experimentation with SCP-043. On-site personnel were able to revive Dr. Best on the scene, and later examination found that he collapsed due to arrhythmia, despite having no history of the complication. Since this date, the entity from SCP-043 will only manifest itself in the presence of Dr. Best.