SCP-7257 pre-extraction.

Item #: 7257

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7257 is to be held in a standard containment chamber at Site-275. All personnel entering SCP-7257's immediate proximity are to be equipped with HATs1 to ensure the preservation of their personal human identity and sense of self worth.

Description: SCP-7257 is a metallic cube that was extracted from the bottom of the Antarctic Ocean approximately 700 kilometers from New Zealand's southern coast. Following a thorough cleaning procedure, SCP-7257 was revealed to have sides measuring exactly 2.5 meters in length, though all attempts to discern the material composition of the object have proven inconclusive.

SCP-7257's primary anomalous effect manifests as a memetic signal continuously transmitted from its exterior surface. This effect's intensity is inversely proportional to the subject's distance from the object, gradating from slight numbness paired with a sense of vague yearning, to writhing convulsions exacerbated by an aggressive distension of the subject's psyche from their human identity. Notably, though the exact active range of the object remains unknown, incidences of Site-275 staff reporting uncomfortable "wiggliness" remain dramatically outside of the acceptable statistical range.

Incident 7257.1: During a test aimed at analyzing the resonant properties of SCP-7257, Researcher Ian Twiss was instructed to strike SCP-7257 with a tuning fork. This caused SCP-7257 to emit a low hum, which gradually increased in pitch and volume to near deafening levels before stabilizing momentarily. The object then emanated a luminescent beam from its upward facing side which pierced through the roof of the containment chamber and struck the cloud-cover of the sky above, creating the impression of a "very square octopus" or "squiddy thing" in the intersection.

Further resonance tests have been suspended pending an investigation into SCP-7257's luminescent properties.2

SCP-7257-1 pre-emergence.

Incident 7257.2: The corpse of a colossal squid on display in the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa was observed breaching its display unit before spilling out into the room and flailing aimlessly for a short period. The object then went dormant for 13 minutes before its outer flesh started sloughing away and amassing in an approximately humanoid-shaped figure. This figure then separated itself from the carcass, landing in a heap of flesh due to a lack of bones, and called out to onlookers in a then unidentified language. Foundation operatives working within the museum rapidly contained both the squid carcass3 and the mound, later classified SCP-7257-1, which operatives specifically note "wailed from every orifice" until being relocated to a small glass tank.

As attempts to communicate with SCP-7257-1 following the event were hampered by both its amorphous physical state and an apparent language barrier, no initial interrogation could be conducted.

Incident 7257.3: Exactly one week following Incident 7257.1, SCP-7257's memetic radius rapidly increased in size, encompassing Site-275 and incapacitating approximately one third of staff before evacuation protocol could be initiated. Due to limited HAT supply during evacuation a large number of personnel escaped with partial exposure to the object, suffering effects such as: diminished or lost speech, extreme thirst, numbness, yearning, loss of limb function, and in a small number of cases, gaining a compulsion to tightly grasp various geometric objects.

Following the event, recovered HATs were utilized to rescue staff and reaffirm the containment of Site-275's anomalous inventory. Increasing interference from SCP-7257 soon bypassed the countermemetic effect of these devices, introducing unacceptable risk to further excursion attempts and postponing Site recapture until a method of reducing SCP-7257's influence could be discerned.

Incident 7257.4: After a brief investigation, SCP-7257-1 was found to be speaking basic Ämärangnä.4 A protracted question and answer session facilitated by Researcher Ian Twiss's rudimentary knowledge of the language provided the following insights:

Question
Answer

"Who are you?"
"I am squid."

"You appear to be a human right now. Why is this?"
"Easier to talk. Looking for boyfriend."

"Why did you create a body with no bones then?"
"Forgot how to bone. Where is boyfriend?"

"Why did you come out now?
"No talk without boyfriend."

"How did you get into the squid?"
"No talk without boyfriend. Bring me to him."

"If we bring you your boyfriend, will you answer more questions?"
"No talk without boyfriend."

"How will we know it's your boyfriend?"
"You will know."

"Where can we find him?"
"In water."

"What does he look like?"
"Cube."

Incident 7257.5: Due to the information uncovered in Incident 7257.4 and spurred by an insistence of SCP-7257's sapience and relationship with SCP-7257-1, it was decided that SCP-7257-1 should be exposed to SCP-7257 to attempt to dampen its anomalous effects and allow for the recapture of Site-275. Due to the subject's lack of bones and a professed inability to fleshcraft itself further, Ian Twiss, who remained the only accessible personnel capable of communicating with the object, was assigned to act as its escort to the cube. His account is as follows.

It wasn't a super high tech ordeal, really. They gave me one of those HATs, strapped a tank of flesh to my back, and told me to get in, get out, no big deal, good luck.

I really didn't see how it could go wrong, so I was optimistic. I'd worked on the object before it started getting weirder, meaning I actually knew where I was going, mostly, navigating the place. It was just a matter of walking through those familiar, though empty, mazes of pristine hallways —letting everything blur together a bit— and waiting until I noticed anything worth stopping for. A good chunk of that empty time passed before I finally saw something out of the ordinary.

A victim.

He was laying there, curled up in a ball, half conscious and muttering nonsense to himself. The agents had told me to ignore anyone I found on the way in: "Can't risk losing your HAT" they said, but I thought just sliding the guy a bit further away from the object wouldn't hurt too much. Of course, just as I tried to pull him out of whatever trance he was in, he looks at me and just screams. I jumped a bit, letting go of him, but all he did was lay there desperately craning his neck back in the other direction, twisting his head and shouting stuff like "I NEED HIM!" "I AM BROKEN!" "I AM INFERIOR!" but otherwise staying completely limp.

I pushed him back to where he was —that calmed him down a bit— then carried on on my way.

Over the next 30 minutes or so I passed more and more of those sort of staff members. Unable to move one way or another, but all desperately reaching the same way I was going. The puddle man was starting to shake a bit, restless probably. That wasn't really a problem though, not exactly. I mean, there really weren't any big issues until I got to Sector B.

So yeah. The frequency of incapacitated staff kept going up and up until they started doing some strange things. More and more often, it would seem like they were trying to move —but not with their legs or arms, no— like a worm, wriggling and writhing in place. I'd just assumed that they were getting nowhere fast, but then I rounded a corner and saw a pile of them blocking the way from Sector C to Sector B. Not just a small pile up, like something I could step over even, but just a wall of people, back to back, skin to skin, filling the entire corridor and blocking it off completely. That one hallway. The only way to 7257. I give my thanks to whoever designed Site-275 for their prospering genius.

There were two options then. Try and push my way through the wall and risk losing the HAT, or dig. I liked the second option better —marginally— so I got to work pushing on body after writhing, screaming, gibberish chanting, desperately resisting, body. Fighting them out of the blockage one after one as the flesh being in the tank on my back slowly got jittery, then restless, starting to shake and shake, as I kept fighting down body after body after body after body, yet…

No progress.

Well… I'd made a noticeable dent in the mass, but I still couldn't get a read on how deep it was. It had been hours, hours of working away at this one impasse, covered in sweat, and not just my sweat, digging, all while the flesh man wouldn't stop FUCKING shaking. I was tired, I was frustrated, and I was done. No more. I sat down to rest, and seeing it was stopping me from finding any meagre sense of comfort, turned to detach the tank from my back.

That was when it erupted.

I buckled as my center of mass rapidly shifted, falling forward as the flesh man leapt out of his tank. I winced, hearing a clatter as the HAT tumbled from my head, hitting the floor and breaking immediately on impact. As I scrambled for the pieces, I saw the flesh man oozing into the pile of writhing bodies, blubbering jubilantly and sprouting limb after limb, tentacle after tentacle, before disappearing into the mound. I tried to run after him but I fell to the ground. I could feel it breaking in. Pulsing. Beating away my panic, and the noise, and the bodies. Pushing it all away and making space for one thought. "Wiggle."

Wiggle, and find Him.

I could feel Him nearby in the heart of the site. He was close. He needed me and I needed Him, but my bones were weak and useless and my body was subpar and all I could do was wiggle and wiggle and push. I drove my head into the other bodies, diving into them as I wiggled more, driven by the thought of holding Him and knowing Him and meeting Him again, because we need each other and we need each other to feel right, and whole, and perfect again in our subpar horrible bodies, but all we can do is wiggle and wiggle and wiggle and wiggle.

Wiggle. For minutes, hours, however long it takes to get to you.

And wiggle. It doesn't matter how long it takes. It's been so long since I felt your touch.

Just wiggle. I've not felt whole for all this time. I've wasted away, rusted, became everything I wasn't, degraded my already worthless body, waiting for the perfection that is you. You. Please. I need you. Now. I need you please. Desperately. I need you-

[Twiss is interrupted and given a moment to calm down.]

Yep. Sorry. Alright…

After an eternity I found His chamber. The center of everything, the center of my— no. I looked up from the piles of other staff, all wriggling together desperately reaching for his glory. Reaching, but unable to find him, meagre tentacles compared to His one and only.

He was massive. He was perfect. He was everything I'd ever dreamed to be, and he was hugging Him tight. So so tight. Tighter than I ever could, but I didn't need to anymore because He was and it was perfect and good and the world was whole again. Together again, at last.

My vision faded as the glee overtook every facet of my being.

I woke up in the recovery wing.

Here I am now, just 3 months later.

Addendum 7257.1: Following Incident 7257.5, SCP-7257's containment chamber has been augmented to mimic the conditions of the deep sea. SCP-7257-1 has also been allowed to reside with SCP-7257 to mitigate further outbursts, given it remains in active communication with site staff. Implementation of these changes have succeeded in reducing SCP-7257's active radius to negligible levels, though personnel have thus far refrained from questioning the pair in depth as to not interrupt the "very intimate exchanges" that have been common in the months following their reunion.

Incident 7257.6: One month following Incident 7257-4, during a session of his mandated reorientation therapy involving a tuning fork, Researcher Ian Twiss was observed to become suddenly lucid, grasping the object and exiting the recovery wing. Twiss then utilized his elevated Site-wide clearance5 to enter the SCP-7257 observation deck, where he raised the fork to the glass, and asked:

"Why this?"

Cameras then observed SCP-7257-1 wrapping a tentacle around SCP-7257 before answering, eliciting a sudden spike in SCP-7257's memetic signal output which caused Twiss to collapse. Moments later, he then began to contort, eventually arranging his body and limbs into a cubic form which he remained in until medical staff arrived to intervene.6

After a lengthy debate on the proper translation of the entity's response, International translators have agreed on the following interpretation:

"Boyfriend hate sound of his voice. Need big strong squid for comfort."

No further incidences have occurred.

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