Subliminal Manipulations - SCP Foundation

Five-thousand years ago from humanity's thoughts and ideas on the unknown, we coalesced into self-aware beings without physical form.
Humanity's current trajectory is counter to that of the natural flow of the universe.
They verge on matters that we must keep out of their reach.

Part 1, Some Assembly Required

An autumn breeze rolled into the studio apartment, rustling papers and fast food wrappers. A brown haired and lanky man lay on a bed in a corner of the room, unmolested by the draft. The picture of a blond haired woman with a red scarf sitting precariously on a dresser fell to the ground with a thud.

Ted's head greeted him with a pounding pain, a token of appreciation for the adventure he had led with the other researchers the last night. The "Beer Pong King" got off his bed and stumbled towards the coffeemaker.

Ignorant of the invader, the humbled royal mumbled.

"Coffee, must find coffee…"

Ted looked to the fallen picture, clutched his hands, and sighed deeply.

Claire…

He picked the picture back up and gently stroked it with his thumb before returning it to the dresser. Then the bachelor shambled through the living room and stood next to his laptop, still open on the end table.

A foreign urge to check his email had interrupted his caffeine quest.

Closing Leisure Suit Larry III and opening his personal email, his mouse pointer hovered over the vestigial folder titled "Spam" in the lefthand column.

Struck once again by an uncharacteristic pang of interest, he began chuckling at the thought.

I wonder what offers for male enhancement and declarations of love I will find?

Bemusedly skimming the pointer across the titles of a few blatant scams, a message caught his attention. All interest in Brazilian milkmaids and methods to "increase your income from home" was forgotten.

Most puzzling was the fact that it had no sender. The correspondence also lacked a subject and any contents, save one attachment, a Microsoft Word document titled "Print Me".

Curious, Ted complied.

He walked up to the wireless printer, the start of the first page only beginning to emerge.

As Ted stared at the device, a thought entered his mind.

Good, it's nearly out of red ink.

Wait, why would that matter? It's probably all black text, anyway.

Ted shook his head. Coffee, that was what he needed.

With a beep, signaling that a cartridge was empty, the printer continued whirring for a few more lines and stopped.

Ted looked at the document, now halted halfway out of the machine. He nodded, recognizing it as the beginning of a novel. It was in a rust-red font with some occasional letters blue or purple.

Ted inspected further. A hidden message remained in the blue letters.

"Huh?"

Ted took a step away. A shiver ran down his spine, unsure of exactly how he had arrived at the decisions that led him here. He stood staring at the computer screen, a look of indecision on his face.

In the end, his curiosity won out over his caution.

He approached the printer to review the page.

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

Through one of the obscurest quarters of London, and among haunts little loved by the gentlemen of the police, a man, evidently of the lowest orders, was wending his solitary way. He stopped twice or thrice at different shops and houses of a description correspondent with the appearance of the quartier in which they were situated, and tended inquiry for some article or another which did not seem easily to be met with. All the answers he received were couched in the negative; and as he turned from each door he muttered to himself, in no very elegant phraseology, his disappointment and discontent. At length, at one house, the landlord, a sturdy butcher, after rendering the same reply the inquirer had hitherto received, added, “But if this vill do as vell, Dummie, it is quite at your sarvice!” Pausing reflectively for a moment, Dummie responded that he thought the thing proffered might do as well; and thrusting it into his ample pocket, he strode away with as rapid a motion as the wind and the rain would allow.

The sound of a knock at the door tore his gaze from the text.

Approaching the entrance to his apartment, he scratched his unkempt brown beard. He peeked through the peephole to see a figure in a brown uniform walking away.

Opening the door, Ted turned his attention downwards to a UPS package on the floor.

Wasn't that Xbox supposed to arrive next week?

Like the email, the UPS package also lacked a "From" address.

Arching an eyebrow, Ted brought the package inside. Opening the box, he found an assortment of metal components.

For a moment, stupidly, he wished Claire was there.

He then returned to the printer and clicked "OK" to its offer to "Continue Print Job with Remaining Ink".

Ted read the visible portion of the decoded message aloud.

"We are the Attendants of Requital. Connect the rods to the spheres…"

Assembling the strange device, Ted noticed an Anderson Robotics logo on one of the pieces.

"Didn't they open a location not too far from here about a month ago?" Ted said, grabbing a few more pages from the printer and continued unabated.

In the end, the device looked like a steel Rolodex, with sphere centered disks on a segmented rod replacing the cards. All that remained in the box was a small bottle with two small pills inside and a label reading "Open Upon Activation".

He tried spinning the disks, poking it, and turning the little knob on the side to no avail.

With a frustrated look on his face, Ted picked up the phone.

We are self-fulfilling prophecies.
Called forth and born of humanity.
Oracles to our purpose. We guide their fate.
We will prune the buds seeking and spreading the forbidden and shepherd the flock.
Go cover our tracks and plant the seed.

Part 2, When You Need Someone

Part 2, When You Need Someone

Claire brushed her blond hair out her face and put on her red cashmere scarf. Heading outside to the central business plaza, she smiled looking back at the building. Anderson Robotics stood out proudly declaring itself to the commuters and businessfolk in the plaza before it.

She caught sight of her lunch companion, smiled and waved. Even though she'd only been here a week, she was already looking forward to chats with Dr. Welles at every lunch break.

As she approached she saw the tired expression on his face. He looked around as if expecting an assailant to attack him.

After she had sat down, she wondered: is he going to say anything or just sit in his chair and let whatever is bothering him eat away at him?

A moment later, she looked up from her salad and at her clearly upset coworker.

"Something bothering you?"

"Not really." Dr. Welles responded, adjusting his glasses.

Claire's expression did not seem convinced. She let the conversation pause, for just enough time to take a sip of Earl Grey tea.

"If it's me, I can find somewhere else to have lunch."

Dr. Welles quickly said. "No. It's that people are whispering about me behind my back."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

Claire paused, not wanting to be blunt with her sensitive friend. Yet, wanting to aid in whatever way she could.

"I think you're being paranoid. Working too hard. You really need to relax. Take a break."

"Yeah… I guess. This next development could change everything, you know?"

"That's still work-related."

"I really am overdoing it, eh?"

"It's fine. If you really want to talk about it, I promise not to fall asleep or anything."

"No. No. It's ok…"

Claire frowned. "How about we go see that new superhero film after work today? My treat."

Dr. Welles paused, opened his mouth to speak, then looked back to the building with a conflicted expression.

"Sure, but I really do need to get to work though."

Claire nodded, picking up her empty plastic container.

Heading back into the building, she smiled.

He seems to be feeling better. I will have to make sure he doesn't worm his way to deep into his work before the end of my shift. Now to power through another rewarding day of customer service.

The phone rang as if on cue.

"Hello. Anderson Robotics' Customer Service Center, how may I help you?"

"Claire?"

Claire held her breath and grasped an engraved locket on her neck.

"Ted?"

"What are you doing working at Anderson's?"

"I couldn't stay at the Foundation, watch Marie fall apart!"

"Claire, I…"

"Why are you calling, do you have business with us?"

There was a pause. Claire tapped her fingers on her desk.

"I assembled one of your… things and somethings wrong with it… it's not doing… well, anything. Claire, I am sorry. I lo…"

Standing up, she interrupted, "You could have…" before sitting back down and continuing with a sigh, "Just give me the product name and serial number."

"I… It doesn't have a serial number anywhere on it. I also don't know what product it is."

"How then exactly do you know it's ours?" Claire said rolling her reddening eyes.

"Well, it has your company's logo on the side of one of the parts."

"Then why don't you mail it in? I can see about getting someone to take a look at it."

"Actually, I am pretty close and I don't feel like disassembling it. I'll swing by and bring it in myself. If that's ok?"

"Fine. Bye."

Claire slammed brown the receiver. Her eyes were red and puffy.

Why didn't you come with me?

She went into the bathroom to redo her make up.

Nearly an hour from the end of her workday, Claire stood up and walked towards the stairs. Dr. Welles worked on the 3rd-floor laboratory. Claire used the opportunity to grab her favorite snack from the vending machine.

She opened the door to the R&D lab and met flush-faced Dr. Welles, wielding a heavy metal hatchet. Peregrine unit security androids surrounded him as he stood by an elegant and wonderous mechanism.

"Stay away! They are after me! Trying to use me!"

Claire offered her hand and a pleading expression.

"Dr. Welles, we are friends here. No one is going to let anyone hurt you."

"NO! THEY'RE HERE TO STEAL IT! I WON'T LET THEM!"

The hatchet plunged into the very expensive looking apparatus. An android grabbed Claire and shielded her with its body.

Glass shattered. Circuits sizzled and a bright light filled the room. An evil laugh cackled in the back of Claire's mind.

The blast knocked her and the android out of the laboratory and against a reinforced window. It hurt like hell.

Claire grabbed the windowsill and struggled to her feet. She checked herself for injuries. The worst being a twisted ankle, the mechanical entity had taken most of the damage. The battered woman gazed into the room, which had quickly become an inferno.

"What the hell is going on!"

She looked around as the androids attempted to quell the flames. Some rescuing equipment from the blaze. Thinking of Dr. Welles, she vomited. Tears burned her eyes and she shuddered.

She spun around, wiped her eyes and mouth.

Ted was outside.

He was staring right at her, the firelight gleaming in his eyes and clutching a suitcase in his hand.

Barking a command, Ted threw the case to a teenage boy. As he sprinted toward her, she murmured.

"Now that Jackass finally chooses to come back after me?"

Claire choked on smoke and tears, as she hobbled towards the stairs.

We act as humanity's shadow, ever-present should they approach the forbidden light.
We grow and respond to their advances, safeguarding the forces that hold the universe together.
We quarantine the pestilence that humanity harbors from the multiverse.
We are not evil.
We are necessary.

Part 3, Curiosity

Part 3, Curiosity

Bret stood in the plaza, clutching the suitcase that the man had told him to hold onto.

Everyone else had their eyes on the blaze. Bret set down the case and scratched the back of his head.

The object lay on the sidewalk.

His ear perked as he looked at it. Strain on his face, he turned away from the case.

It could be yours.

The guy ran into a burning building and gave me this. So going by that logic, if he doesn't make it out I am supposed to take it?

No, this is sick.

You are meant to do it. Activate the seed.

The expression of curiosity the boy wore contorted into an ugly grin as he thought: If he isn't back in 5 minutes, I won't have a choice, right?

Bret turned back to the suitcase, then around him, desperately turning back and forth

Minutes passed and ecstatically began hopping up and down. He looked to see that while the firefighters had gone into the burning building, the case's owner had yet to emerge.

The manic child dropped to his knees. Listening to the voice, he entered the code for the case's combination lock and opened it. An unusual device, that seemed both pleasant and cruel in its appearance and demeanor, lay before him.

The voice told him the way to activate the device.

He did so exactly as instructed, his back to the man exiting the burning building and carrying a battered sobbing woman.

A horrible sound, like the moment a priceless item breaks due to carelessness, wretched the attention of every person in the vicinity to the boy kneeling and laughing manically on the sidewalk. The shadows of the firelight seeming to dance ceremoniously behind him.

The beat of a drum called out from the device for something beyond the manic child's imagination.

The man holding the soot-streaked woman withdrew a bottle from his pocket. He opened it and produced two small pills. He gave one to the woman and one to himself.

They both collapsed, the rest and the flames alike followed suit soon after.

The seed was recovered by the next target.
It will grow to be useful.
We seem to have a new agent or two as well.