Golden Times - SCP Foundation

by Perdoh

From the collapse of a dying star, crumbling, fusing, creating and exploding, to the day of the Lord, when the elements shall burn away with fervent heat.

I know the truth, and the truth has set me free.

Chemically and physically, SCP-████ is non-anomalous.

Brother Fredrick? Brother Fredrick, can you hear me?

An apparatus to withstand time, made to last.

Gold, eternal.

Aqua Regia, to purify the substance.

SCP-████ is a single gold bar weighing approximately 14 kilograms.

To forsake all agency in the name of outlasting death itself. Well, not all agency, as I shall still be able to speak.

By force, I shall take the Kingdom of God and live forever!

Can such a body support a soul?

However, under An-Ima analysis, SCP-████ displays signatures consistent with those found in living humans.

It speaks in tongues!

No! It is possessed!

SCP-████, was transferred to Foundation precursor Her Majesty's Foundation for the Secure Containment of the Paranormal (HMFSCP) from the Church of England in 1847. It is believed to date back to the 16th century.

It is said that God created time alongside the world.

Shattered perception.

A single note was included with SCP-████, which described the actions of one Fredrick Weller in SCP-████'s creation.

His actions denounce his neglect of Our Savior's words, chiefly that He is the Life. The wicked artifact, affected by malevolent forces, has since been destroyed and reduced to bare metal.

Nature tends to states of least free energy, does it not? Or do we only perceive this as such due to how our bodies work, and by extension how our perception works? The mind is biochemical, our internal clocks are dictated by thermodynamics, and our arrow of time points in the direction of increasing entropy. What if that weren't the case? Could there be a vessel for the soul in which, unlike in the human body, it could perceive time in any direction it desires? This is what I will achieve with my work.

In here are the remains of the contraption in which our late brother Fredrick Weller seated his soul. As the golden calf of Aaron, the precious metal was wrought by our brother into an idol, through which he sought to gain life eternal.

Play, pause, rewind.

Not bound to the direction of increasing microstates, but to whichever direction I please.

Heresy.

Occultism.

Mysteries I dare not and could not replicate.

Having chosen sin unto death, we pray not for our brother Fredrick. We shall not judge, for there is one judge and arbiter, Jesus Christ. We put evil away from among us, however, and melt his works with cleansing fire. Amen.

The machine, it screamed as it melted.

What then? What now?

SCP-████ is to be stored in the steel chest from which it was obtained. This chest is to be kept in a secure locker in Site-72.

The anguish of a life forced to walk downhill, further and further into decay. The anguish of a life of nothing new, be it through repetition or exhaustion, where either way there is nothing left to live. I want neither. I want eternal life.

A cost to be set free from the numbered days of man and into the countless instants beyond time.

A single bullion, locked in a box, held in a remote, restricted chamber within the Earth. A note describing the sins of our brother Fredrick, admonishing him.

To cleave the soul, spirit and body, and mend them again.

He is dead.

But what about his work?

From the nuclear decay, which man has not yet seen, of each and every 197Au atom that had once been united as this device, to the third day, when the waters under heaven were gathered, and Earth was named.

I have been there. I am there. I will be there.