The Forms - SCP Foundation

The Forms

Deep beneath a stolen nation,

trapped in timid hesitation

(and within the confines of my

office in the southern dorms),

long dwelt I upon damnation,

then enjoyed a brief flirtation

with the thought of derelicting

certain business I perform.

Hopeless seemed the tasks at hand:

first to read, then understand

the endless ream of paperwork

consigned to me to authorize.

Here a form to requisition

toxin and anaesthetician,

there a mustering order for

five D-class slobs to analyze.

Orders from the research sector

for an expert vivisector;

and from (hmm, the name was smudged)

for purchase of a hornet swarm.

Nay! Upon closer inspection,

I descried a foul connection:

insects, personnel and poison

and a cry for chloroform…

Sagging deep into the cushion

of my chair, and roughly pushing

back the pile of papers which had

fallen on me as a storm;

rubbing 'til my eyes were red

and plunging down the deep'ning dread

I spoke these words into the night:

"Grow up, Karen, sign the forms."

"Clear your head, and be professional

at this desk — it's no confessional!

You're a cog, a spinning wheel;

it's not your role to make a fuss.

Do you really think they're plugging

open wounds with bees, or drugging

convicts just for kicks as though

the ethics were superfluous?"

Splashed the ink, then on to Bremmel

Who required a high-speed dremel

and a surgeon — why a surgeon?

Reasoning felt incomplete.

Now a purchase order from

the MTFs, for bubble gum

and scalpels (for their medkits? Or…?)

"Dammit, Karen, sign the sheet."

Some of same were missing data,

and as their adjudicator

ought I not to mark them as

unfit to thus be passed along?

Ah, but the Administrator

had signed off, and he's no traitor.

Surely I could trust these worthies!

Surely they could do no wrong.

Then again… that vivisection…

There was cause to raise objection!

From an expert engineer,

such a suit defied the norm.

Dared I essay non-compliance

and accuse him of mad science?

Which of us would pay the price?

"Fuck it, Karen, sign the form."

Forty fan blades; sure, why not?

A compound that induces rot…

Had I cause to judge each brief?

My doctorate's a D.B.A.

Safety razors by the gross,

excitants at a lethal dose,

rabies virus multi-packs…

I wasn't qualified to weigh.

Should indeed these parties various

be engaged in deeds nefarious,

could I stand to stand aside

and face my own face at the dawn?

Did I owe a deeper debt

to humankind? Would I regret

a squandered chance to set things right?

"Sign it, Karen, and move on."

Blind to all coincidence,

incapable of insolence,

I did my bit in parcelling off

our dire doings underground.

Any evil in this batch

could wait for someone else to catch;

scrawled my name upon the lines

and uttered no dissenting sound.

Was it my imagination?

That unseemly jubilation

on the face of Bremmel when

I met him on the following morn?

Were those moans upon the air

a novelty, or always there?

More the point: why did I care?

Duty done: I'd signed the forms.

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