Item #: SCP-4535

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-4535 is to be contained within a standard anomalous objects containment vault. Testing requires approval from one Level 3 personnel or higher. All instances of SCP-4535-01 are to be kept under guard at Site-48, where they are to be put to work as Level-0 Foundation employees.

It is recommended that experiments on SCP-4535 be conducted with subjects that are single, without children or close family, and above sixty years of age. Furthermore, as several reclassification requests to Thaumiel have been denied, it is categorically prohibited for these subjects to be Foundation personnel.

Description: SCP-4535 is an electromechanical device composed of two ellipsoidal chambers (hereafter referred to as antechamber and pod) with opaque glass doors, both measuring 3mx1mx1m along the axes. The anomalous effect triggers when the pod is filled with at least 185 kg of raw meat and a human being, hereafter prime subject, lies within the antechamber. Thereafter release of sleeping gas puts the prime subject into a particularly deep sleep lasting 14-16 hours. Upon awakening, the prime subject will emerge unharmed out of the antechamber and a further half-hour later, an instance of SCP-4535-01 will come out of the pod. SCP-4535-01 looks identical to the prime subject, possesses the same memories as the prime subject, and will believe itself to be the prime subject.

It was initially hypothesized that SCP-4535 is a cloning machine. However, subsequent analysis has pinpointed several ways in which SCP-4535-01s differ from the prime subjects:

SCP-4535-01s display increased intelligence, with the size of the increase ranging from 42-51% depending on the test and metric. Higher intelligence of the prime subject has been found to be associated with a larger cognitive gain.

SCP-4535-01s are significantly more conflict-averse compared to the prime subjects. Laboratory experiments have shown SCP-4535-01s are more likely to deescalate personal disagreements; the effect is strongest with in-person interactions. Likely as a consequence, in Milgram-style experiments SCP-4535-01s were approximately 70-80% quicker to press a button causing serious harm to an unknown participant to avoid a personal confrontation with the researcher directing the experiment.

Sleep activity features a higher ratio of deep sleep relative to REM and light sleep. As a result, SCP-4535-01s are typically awake 19-20 hours per day.

Due to a previously unseen mechanism of cellular decay, the lifespan of SCP-4535-01s ranges from 7.4 to 8.2 years. During this time, SCP-4535-01 do not appear to age.

Each SCP-4535-01 exhibits a strong desire to please the first three human beings seen upon emergence from the pod. Experiments have shown that SCP-4535-01s experience large oxytocin spikes when interacting with these individuals.

SCP-4535 was recovered from the ruins of a Prometheus Labs facility in Fairbanks, Alaska. No documentation on SCP-4535 was found in the facility, with the exception of several copies of a flyer recovered from the mailroom. Efforts to reverse engineer the operation of SCP-4535 are currently ongoing.

Appendix A: Flyer found in the mailroom of a Prometheus Labs facility

- Hide Flyer

Appendix B: Correspondence regarding SCP-4535-01-04

- Hide Correspondence

Dear Director Roberts,

My name is Polly Adell. I'm the health and safety administrator for Sites 48-51; although we have never met, I wanted to step outside the "chain of command" and tell you about a sequence of events that demands your immediate attention.

You may already know that SCP-4535-01-04 was found dead in his quarters recently. If you are unfamiliar with his case, Four was the result of the first crop of experiments on SCP-4535. The prime subject was Dr. Richard Kastner, who — I'm sure you've heard his name — is the inventor of the eponymous K-class reality anchor and the head of the Foundation's Temporal Physics division. Over the past few years, Four has produced what I'm told are a series of breathtaking advances on subjects ranging from theoretical physics to machine learning, leading to the development of a number of technologies in use by the Foundation.

I met Four several times during my site inspections. He was a kind man, a little flirty in the way that all men of his generation seem to be with younger women. Although I'm sure he was frightfully busy, Four always seemed to have time to chat with me whenever I was on-site, and I did not mind his often-clumsy attempts at humor. You can imagine my shock when I learned he had committed suicide. Director Roberts, I am writing you this so that you understand why I felt compelled to look into the details of his case.

I began with Dr. Kastner's personnel file, to which I was able to obtain access through HR channels. Dr. Kastner is married with three children; neither the wife nor the children know of Four's existence. It turns out that, over the years, Four had made a number of attempts to escape Site-48 in order to visit "his" family, only to be caught by Foundation security each time (all this was news to me — Four had never spoken of it during our interactions). For the last few months of his life he had been confined to quarters. I have spoken to his friends on-site, and all confirm that Four grew increasingly dejected over this time.

At first glance, everything about his suicide seemed open and shut. And yet, as I looked more into it, several aspects of the case turned out to be troubling:

Despite omnipresent cameras, no footage of Four's death exists due to a site-wide power outage. The cause of this outage is currently unknown.

Although it was widely known Four suffered from depression, his symptoms seemed to vastly improve in the week before his death. Site personnel report that, for the first time in long while, he seemed determined and almost cheerful.

The morgue technician handling Four's body on the evening of his death recalls an unusually advanced case of rigor mortis apparently inconsistent with the time of death, which, he was told, had occurred 2-3 hours prior to the examination. Unfortunately, due to the cremation of Four's body on the following day, it is not possible to confirm or refute this.

The investigation into Four’s suicide appears to have been largely cursory. I took the effort to interview Four's friends and coworkers both among the zero-ones and among the staff. All told me that no one else had bothered to speak with them.

I raised these points with the Mr. Cross, the security chief at Site-48, who informed me he did not find my concerns "actionable" and promptly sent a letter to my boss accusing me of wasting Foundation resources by neglecting my assigned duties.

Before my boss ordered me to move on from Site-48, I was able to track down Four's keyboard by rummaging through the supply lists. I was fortunate that one of the zero-ones on-site volunteered to perform a spectroscopic analysis of key frequencies. I'll spare you the details, but a dictionary attack then led to the recovery of Four's email password.

While Four was not allowed to send emails, he was allowed to receive them. Of note is the final email in Four's mailbox, from Dr. Kastner (strangely enough, the two of them were quite friendly). While Dr. Kastner spends the majority of that email discussing problems at his own division, at the end he suggests to meet Four on the morning of what turned out to be the day of his suicide (I'm attaching that email with this message).

I would like to ask for your assistance in arranging an interview with Dr. Kastner. Director Roberts, there are loose ends here which don't feel right, I'm certain that more is lurking beneath the surface. Although my primary responsibilities are in Health & Safety, I know the people involved and I'm highly motivated to figure this out. I can uncover the truth if only allowed to look.

Very best regards,

P. Adell, Tier-2 Specialist

Health and Wellness Unit

Human Relations Division

From: Richard.D.Kastner@extranet

To: RichK@Site48MailerDaemon@extranet

Date: Friday, Jan 4th, 2013, 03:05:56

Subject: Meeting

So, it looks like I’ll end up having time to come by after all. If you can believe it, I’ve been put on administrative leave. A disciplinary committee meeting is scheduled in two weeks.

!?!!??

I feel like howling with rage. I’ve hinted in the past how important this project is. Let me just lay it out: if I don’t make everything work in the next 316 days, WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE. I'm serious. The Foundation, humanity, the whole shebang. I’d say I’ve got a legitimate reason to be going all-caps here.

Two weeks. Meanwhile, I don’t have access to my equipment. I can’t run any simulations. The team will go on without me, of course, but I don’t have much hope for what they’ll be able to accomplish on their own.

As all this is happening, I got the news today that our latest test didn't come out so well. Actually, it was only the last in a string of failures. Thing is, we’re getting closer and closer with each misstep. Science is hard. You learn, improve, adapt. There are no shortcuts. I wish the people in charge would understand that.

Now this goddamn disciplinary committee is upset over a few white lies I told months ago.

I think they might be gearing to push me out. Problem is, no one else here has the technical chops to take over. You remember Kravitz, Chong, Walker? You/I interacted with them during my/your days at Site-13. If I go, one of them would likely be my replacement.

I nearly lost it with the boss today. I explained, patiently, that Walker may be a great, even amazing, theorist, but he’s shit as an experimentalist. The man couldn’t use a screwdriver to save his life. Chong might be brilliant with black hole mechanics, but her understanding of algorithms is nil (the other day, I caught her engrossed in the wikipedia article on Fibonacci heaps! She closed it quickly when she noticed the smirk on my face). Kravitz is a B+ researcher across the board: competent but not very creative. Meanwhile, we’re 316 days away from doomsday here.

I don't think I got through to him. As I’m going over all this, his face is the usual mask of bureaucratic impassivity. “It’s me you’re looking for,” I say to him. “I'm the right man for this job. You’ll never find a better man than me.” For a moment the mask seemed to slip and his lips curled into an unpleasant little smile. I thought he was about to start arguing with me but then his face suddenly turned indifferent and he showed me the door.

Moron.

I'll say this much: if he's angling for a fight, I plan to give it to him. Most of the O5s still think I'm God's fucking gift to the Foundation ever since I managed to follow through on those ideas for an improved anchor we were tossing around a few years ago— it helped them avert one of their periodic crises. They'll put me through some ropes, I'm sure, but I'd bet that disciplinary meeting will go nowhere in the end.

Anyway. I'm sorry for venting at you like this. I really am not supposed to tell you this stuff, but I'm at the end of my rope here. Sometimes I feel like you're the only one who understands me. Besides, who gives a damn? In 317 days, I won't just be dead — in a sense, I will have never existed.

Anna and the kids are doing fine. Rina's graduation is later this month, though, if all goes well, I'll probably have to miss it. They came back very happy from a Caribbean resort recently, I don't remember which one — you/I have always had a terrible memory for these things — I'll pass along some pictures soon.

Well. I might as well take these two weeks to relax. It's the only thing I can do, at any rate. I look forward to hearing what it was that you wanted to tell me so badly. What is this grand secret or revelation that requires me to come see you in person? In any case, how about this Tuesday?

RK

Ms. Adell: your request is denied. Please stick to HR and don't waste your time playing detective. — J.R.