Item #: SCP-3591

Object Class: Safe Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3591 is constantly monitored at its location of discovery. A perimeter is maintained of 10km around the location (a larger perimeter is not currently feasible). Local population is monitored for evidence of unusual phenomena.

Description: SCP-3591 is the apparent corpse of a massive entity.

Physical traits of SCP-3591 are uncertain, due to difficulties in observation. SCP-3591 has characteristics both of a biological organism and of a mobile mechanical structure.

SCP-3591 is believed to have a roughly humanoid form, but observers universally report uncertainty. Observers typically report an additional impression "behind" or "disguised by" the humanoid form. Common imagery includes a fallen tower, a moving chasm in the ground, a spacecraft resembling a cetacean or other large animal, a faraway figure with its back turned, and a partially broken moon.

Observation techniques designed to account for limits in human perception have had inconclusive results. Confirmed traits include:

Reality distortion, including spatiotemporal characteristics of itself and its location.

Massive physical size, at minimum sufficient to crush an area of ███-███ square kilometers.

Limbs, some of which most likely could be used for locomotion in life.

SCP-3591 Discovery:

Open File

Close File

SCP-3591 was identified after its appearance in the city of [REDACTED], a suburb of the greater [REDACTED] area in the U.S. state of California. Class Theta amnestics approved for use in altering mass memory of the event and affected area.

Witnesses of the incident had difficulty perceiving it, but report that the entity fell from the sky (or from somewhere unknown), the impact destroying the town of [REDACTED] and damaging nearby areas.

Those who could describe the entity used poetic and non-specific language. Common descriptions were of a crashing spaceship or UFO, a falling giant, and a hostile military engagement between unknown forces resulting in the fall of SCP-3591. No military forces, including anomalous forces, were known to be present at the time of the incident.

A subset of the witnesses recalls watching the entity die. Witnesses cannot specify details of this occurrence.

SCP-3591 Testing (Enhanced Methods):

Open File

Close File

New methods of SCP-3591 testing were authorized seven months after discovery, based on information gathered by members of Mobile Task Force Sigma-3 ("Bibliographers").

Examination using new recommended esoteric methods revealed "incisions" or "doorways" on SCP-3591 exterior, leading into a previously unknown interior.

Drone exploration found to be ineffective. While cameras continue to transmit, all controls fail once drones are inside interior. Drones may be manually operated by a human in direct contact, but all remote operation fails. Exploratory missions authorized with live personnel.

SCP-3591 "Limb" Test

View Record

Close Record

Pre-Mission Report: Four-person team comprised of three members of MTF Chi-9 ("All-Purpose Exploration"), and one member of MTF Sigma-3 ("Bibliographers"). Team members referred to as Green (Team Lead), Red, Gold, and Blue. Transcript has been edited.

[BEGIN LOG]

Green: Mic check. Green here.

Gold: Gold Leader, standing by.

Red: Red Leader, standing by.

Blue: Blue here. Resident Sigma-3 member. I hear you.

Red: C'mon, Blue, you gotta do the thing.

Blue: Fine, fine. Blue Leader, standing by.

Red: Yesss.

Green: Command, how's your equipment check?

Command: Everything looks good on our end, Green. Proceed to entry point. Confirm when you have visual contact.

Green: Confirmed.

Team approaches SCP-3591.

Red: So, I've got a question, we're sure this thing is really dead?

Gold: Yep. One of those creepy motherfuckers from Psi-8 took a look at it. Was here for eleven hours. Didn't say a single word the entire time.

Red: What's Psi-8?

Blue: The Silencers. They deal with reanimation. No one likes to talk about them.

Red: Reanimation? Like zombies?

Blue: No. They're an esoteric task force, like Sigma-3. They deal with people or not-people talking from graves. And things that were never supposed to be alive. And things trying to come back to life.

Red: So, like zombies.

Blue: (Audible sigh.)

SCP-3591 appears on visual feed. Heavy camera distortion present. Outline of humanoid form visible: head, arm, and partial chest. Typical visual variance present.

Gold: You see that?

Red: Yeah. Jesus.

Green: Command, confirming visual contact with SCP-3591.

Command: Acknowledged. We see it too.

Gold: Let's get these helmets on.

Team stops. Gold takes four prototype RPD (Remote Perceptual Display) helmets from pack. Group members don helmets, and bring them online. Audiovisual feeds for Green, Gold, Red, and Blue display successfully at Command location.

Green: Command, confirming RPD devices ready to go. Ready for systems check.

Red: So these things show you what we're seeing? Like, what's inside our heads?

Command: Yes, Agent, that is correct, assuming all goes well.

Gold: What are you, stating it for the record?

Red: Dude.

Command: All of you, tell us what you're currently seeing. Red, you first.

Red: I see… A giant face. And a giant arm. Can't make out the rest of it. Jesus, you know, I didn't expect it to be so big.

Audiovisual feed for Red confirms this imagery.

Command: What is the appearance of the face?

Red: Like a giant that Jack killed. Looks like a human, but… not quite. I can't put my finger on the difference, but it's definitely, definitely there. Like it might have bug eyes and feelers at any moment. I know it's very still, like corpse still. Which I guess makes sense, but damn.

Command: Check. Gold?

Gold: I see a starship. Not sure how else to put it. Not like a real space shuttle, like a starship from an old sci-fi novel, or maybe Star Trek. Big sweeping curves. From our perspective, it looks like it's got a curved wing closest to us. Probably equivalent to the arm that Red's seeing. I can see the front further up, where Jack thinks the head is — reminds me of where I'd expect a command center to be. Looks like it's scarred, you know, battle-damaged. (Pause) Honestly, it's kind of breathtaking.

Audiovisual feed for Gold confirms this imagery.

Command: Check. Green?

Green: I'm seeing a roughly humanoid form, which looks like it's superimposed over a fallen tower. I recall this imagery from the report we read. The fallen tower has an aesthetic that reminds me of a ruined medieval castle, but… ah, futuristic, in a way. Or perhaps alien.

Audiovisual feed for Green confirms this imagery.

Command: Check. Blue?

Blue: It's hard for me to pin down what I'm seeing. Seems like it's shifting. My impressions start with a moving city, half-broken, made from crystal and brightly colored, enchanted stones. I'm also getting a void in reality, a dead, snowy forest, and a… huge, infinite pit with a cracked glass pathway over it. (Pause) The pathway seems present across all of my impressions. I'll pay attention to it. I also get the strong feeling that this is only a small fraction of the entity, like we can only see the tip of the iceberg. And I get the impression that it would be moving around a lot more if it wasn't dead. (Pause) That's all for now.

Audiovisual feed for Blue confirms this imagery, shifting and blurring between described images.

Red: Dang, I wish my shit was as complicated as all that. (Pause) No, wait. No I don't.

Command: Check. Thank you. Go ahead and proceed, Team.

Team proceeds to previously located entrance into SCP-3591. Team stops to unpack drone equipment and take readings on entrance.

Command: Team, go ahead and give us another imagery confirmation. What do you see?

Red: Ugh. Looks like a gaping wound. Would be bloodier if it wasn't dead.

Green: I see a kind of incision, but also a stone doorway. Stone doorway is crumbling, damaged, but looks stable for the time being. Looks like it took hits from catapults during a siege, though I'm certain that's not literal.

Gold: I just see a damaged spaceship entrance now. Charred, like from… I guess blaster bolts, phasers, whatever. I still have the vague impression of the humanoid form, but it's like it's faded out. The spaceship looks pretty cool. (Pause) I feel a little guilty I'm not seeing anything worse.

Blue: I'm seeing the pathway entering here. Crystal archway around it, or a gap in trees, or… a tunnel into a cavern, or… just the void on all sides. All the imagery echoes the theme of being damaged in some way.

Audiovisual feeds confirm imagery.

Red: What happens if you fall off?

Blue: I'd rather not find out.

Command: Thank you. Let us know when you're ready to proceed into the anomaly.

Green and Gold have finished setting up drone systems. Drones are scanning areas around SCP-3591 entrance.

Green: Command, ready to enter anomaly.

Command: Go ahead, Green. Be cautious, please. We don't want to lose any of you in there.

Team proceeds into SCP-3591 entrance. On the main feed, camera distortion increases until visibility is extremely low. All feeds except Blue's show a tunnel or hallway (though physical dimensions vary greatly across the feeds). Red's shows dull red, shriveled organic material, with slow seepage of dark red and black fluid. Green's shows a high cracked tunnel of carved stone with scattered rocks on the ground. Gold's shows a dimly-lit metal hallway, with open circuits on the walls hinting at futuristic technology. Blue's imagery flickers too quickly to resolve.

Red: Gross. I hope this stuff isn't real.

Gold: How bad is it?

Red: It's just… leaking.

Command: Blue, I'm not sure our connection is stable.

Blue: Having trouble focusing, Command. I think it's my extrasensory perception training. Something about this entity is really lighting up my brain. It won't… resolve.

Command: Anything you can do about that?

Blue: Not sure. I don't know if this is some kind of defense mechanism, or if what I'm seeing is… more accurate in some way than what everyone else is seeing.

Green: Any ideas on what we're literally seeing?

Blue: Sorry. I'm not even sure what kind of anomaly this is. I don't think it's what the anomalous community traditionally calls magic. If it's even of our reality, it's doing a good job hiding it.

Gold uses the drones to advance along the hallway, trying to scan and verify actual physical dimensions of the interior space.

Red: What's it mean if it's not of our reality?

Blue: If it's from our reality, at least local reality, we should have some way of comprehending it. Even if it's with Serpent's Hand style magic, or with "esoteric techniques" or whatever we're calling them now. The Foundation's gathered quite a lot of these things, and Sigma-3's been allowed to play with a lot of them over the last few years. We should be able to figure something out. But if it's not from our reality…

Red: What? We go mad from the knowledge?

Blue: Not necessarily. Does an ant go mad if it sees a human?

Audiovisual feeds display spike of interference, showing distortion that blots out most audio and video for approximately fifty-one seconds. When the feeds resume, the team is still in the same location, but the drones have advanced along the hallway, reaching a bend in the corridor. Team members are staring at each other, with expressions of surprise visible behind their helmets.

Gold: It's gone.

Command: We lost you for almost a minute there. Did something happen?

Green: We felt an unusual feeling. The sensory input was unclear. We all perceived what might have been a noise.

Red: Kind of like… an echo. Had that feeling to it.

Green: We can't be certain what happened.

Command: Understood. Do you want to abort early?

Feed shows team shaking heads at each other.

Green: Not yet, Command.

Gold: We're still running tests. (Pause) I'm not getting anything consistent from these drones, though. They're certain there's physical matter here, but they're constantly giving me different readings. As if it's changing, but the drones aren't detecting any expansions or contractions. They're just returning errors and then updating —

Audiovisual feeds display another spike of interference. Distortion blots out most audio and video for approximately sixty-three seconds. Feed resumes. The team is still in the same location.

Command: Can you hear us?

Green: Yes. We just experienced the same phenomena as the first time.

Red: Guys? Is it just me, or is this place getting… smaller?

Audiovisual feeds do not immediately display signs of the environment becoming smaller, though post-mission feed analysis verifies that this had indeed been occurring since the second interference spike.

Gold: Drones aren't catching anything like that, but they're pretty useless right now.

Blue: I feel it too. Wait — look.

Blue walks to the bend in the corridor and looks around the bend. The others follow.

Blue: See?

Red: Oh, fuck.

Blue's feed shows a glass path slowly fracturing, pieces falling into a void / a forest collapsing in on itself / crystal dissolving into a white void. Green's feed shows a cave-in, with rocks slowly tumbling forward, advancing. Gold's feed shows a rip in the spaceship's hull, open to outer space (an unfamiliar star system). Red's feed shows the tunnel shrinking down to a single point. This single point has a rapidly growing scab-like material.

Gold: Hey, you hear that?

Audiovisual feeds display another spike of interference. Distortion blots out most audio and video for approximately eleven minutes and thirteen seconds.

Visual feed resumes. No audio. The team appears to be running and shouting in the vacuum of space. No details are visible in the landscape, only blackness. An unseen, unknown light source illuminates the team dimly — their features can be barely made out. However, they are clearly still running on solid ground. Feeds are lost again.

Thirty-six minutes and forty-three seconds pass.

Feeds resume as team emerges from SCP-3591, panting from exertion. Most of their equipment has been left behind, except the perceptual helmets.

[END LOG]

Post-Mission Report: All team members recovered well after medical attention. No team member was able to recall or report what occurred after Gold's question "Hey, you hear that?". No team member was able to recall what prompted Gold's question. Audio feed picked up no unusual noises.

Examining team equipment, it was discovered that the team collected a sample from SCP-3591 while their feeds were offline. Sample appears to be the corpse of a non-carbon-based life form, similar to life forms identified in extra-universal travel via anomalous means. Creature is the size of a small dog, possesses thirteen legs, and a chitinous exoskeleton. No head appears to be present. Context of the creature is unknown. Correlations with existing SCP & anomalous objects have been found, and analysis is underway.

Around two days post-mission, entrance into SCP-3591's limb was discovered to be closed.

SCP-3591 "Body" Test

View Record

Close Record

Pre-Mission Report: Same four-person team as initial mission. (Volunteer basis despite offer of reassignment.) Test aimed to explore known entrance into SCP-3591's apparent body cavity.

Mission control communication with team was largely impossible due to severe feed connectivity problems. Partial audiovisual feed was still collected and transcribed below.

[BEGIN LOG]

Team enters SCP-3591. No audio, except where noted. Remote perceptual devices show similar imagery as the prior mission, except the interior area of SCP-3591 is consistently many times larger.

Feed lost.

Feed resumes. Team is in a large area with no visible walls in any version of personal imagery (only floor disappearing into the horizon or darkness). Team is walking through what appears to be an assortment of dead bodies.

Gold: — more of these things, jesus.

Blue: I can't make sense of them. What killed them? Why can't I get any readings out of them? They can't all be —

Feed lost.

Feed resumes. Team is examining a large, complex floating device of many moving metallic parts. One side of the device is heavily charred and partially melted. Unlike surrounding area, device appearance is consistent across all four visual feeds.

Team eventually moves on, after taking samples. They walk forward, with no apparent landmarks to guide them.

Feed lost.

Feed resumes. Team is standing at the edge of a massive drop-off. Across all feeds, there is no visible bottom to the drop. On Red's view, rivers of blood flow off the fleshy edge. On Gold's view, torn metal exposes glowing engines venting into space. On Green's view, a cracked stone cliff. On Blue's view, the view shifts too quickly to make sense of the visual, except that in the center of the apparent void, stretching vertically across the entire view, is a glowing thin object. ('Thin' relative to the void, but massive compared to team members.)

Scattered around the team, up to the edge of the drop-off, are numerous unidentifiable objects that appear to be devices or items of alien nature. These are consistent in appearance across all feeds.

Blue is talking animatedly.

Blue: — spear. It's the first time I've seen anything I can understand, that will even let my mind latch onto it —

Feed briefly lost.

Blue: — because my brain isn't working like a single entity's should. Which is why I'm seeing so many things. My brain can't process correctly.

Feed briefly lost.

Green: — all different. What's correct? How do we see correctly?

Blue: You can't. Or rather, you are. As much as you can. You see a broken castle. You see a battle-scarred corpse. You see a crashed spaceship. Other people see dead elephants, broken moons, a shattered planet… Everyone is seeing part of the truth. That's the —

Feed briefly lost.

Red: You mean… symbolism?

Blue: Yes. Maybe something's trying to make us — maybe not us, but whoever's in here — make us understand what happened here. Like… something inside this entity. Something on a lower level of reality than 3591, but on a higher reality than us. A go-between. It's.. sympathetic. To 3591. Feels bad for it.

Red: Why?

Blue: Because it was a faceless grunt that died alone far from home on a forgotten battlefield. In a war we'll never understand, even if it destroys us. Because it will be forgotten by its own people and never understood by the lower civilizations, the creatures like us crawling up in a body we can barely see. It's … grief. Regret. Loneliness. The senselessness of… I don't know. Everything that happened, and everything that will happen, and everything that will never happen.

Red: Wow. You're getting a lot from a giant spear of light.

Blue: It's shrapnel. From whatever killed it. Symbolized as broken pieces of a spear. I can understand only because of my Sigma-3 training. Its psychic impressions have been simplified just enough that someone like me can just barely understand it.

Feed briefly lost.

Blue: — on. Do you… can you feel that? Are you hearing… not hearing. Are you getting the same —

Gold: I think — I know what you mean.

Red: Oh God.

Green: I don't hear… (Pause) Wait.

Audio picks up what seems to be a distorted, low roar.

Feed lost.

Feed resumes. All four team members are laughing and talking to unseen entities. Team members do not appear to be speaking words in any known language, and speech appears to either be nonsense or indecipherable. No audio. Heavy visual distortion. Feed lost.

Feed resumes. All four team members lie on the ground. No signs of life. Feed is intermittent for approximately twelve and a half hours before being lost again.

Feed resumes after three hours. Team exits SCP-3591, alive. While shaken, they seem to be uninjured, and are collected after decontamination for examination.

[END LOG]

Post-Mission Report: Team members recall little of what occurred inside SCP-3591, including events recorded via feed. Integrity verification techniques determine that these are in fact the original team members, and that they did in fact die for between thirteen and sixteen hours, before returning to life by unknown means.

Team members universally report (A) going through an event which had such a drastic mental effect that it killed them (but which they cannot recall the details of), (B) recalling living entities inside SCP-3591, some potentially dangerous, (C) having spent approximately a week inside SCP-3591 (despite only 23 hours having passed outside) and (D) feeling a strong personal drive to revisit SCP-3591, Blue citing anomalous ritualistic reasons as justification for the request being granted.

After mandatory three-month leave, request for final mission granted.

SCP-3591 "Head" Test

View Record

Close Record

Pre-Mission Report: Same four-person team as prior missions. Per request from Blue, test aimed to explore known entrance into SCP-3591's apparent head.

As with prior mission, communication with team was largely impossible. Equipment barely functioned at all in the SCP-3591 area. Only one part of the mission was successfully recorded, and is transcribed below.

[BEGIN LOG]

Video only. Team has just walked through an entry-way into a network of small "rooms". Nothing can be seen through the entry-way on any feed except distortion and static.

Red's feed shows many organ-like chambers, much redder with blood than other areas of SCP-3591. Green's feed shows an ornate medieval castle hall with non-Euclidean physically impossible geometries. Gold's feed shows something like a spaceship command deck, complete with empty captain's chair. Blue's feed shows a grove of trees in a snowy forest, many fallen to the ground, focusing on whorls of knotted wood / a spiraling glass path over a black void, with the end off-camera / rooms full of devices of multi-colored crystal.

All feeds show numerous examples of alien devices with unknown function. While many of the appearances are are strange and functions not apparent, they all appear consistent and relatively mundane compared to SCP-3591 onscreen elements.

As the team proceeds, they encounter living organisms. None seem hostile. None attempt to communicate with the team. Team seems be used to encountering them at this stage. Organisms appear consistent across all feeds.

Blue suddenly seems surprised, and gesticulates at her team members. She leads team members to a side "room" with a table-like structure on it.

A living human being is comatose underneath the table. Human is naked, and has no significant identifying features.

After a short discussion, the team lifts and carries the human out of the area. Feed lost.

Three days pass. Feed resumes. Team members Green, Red, and Gold emerge from SCP-3591, still carrying the comatose human. Red is severely injured, exhibiting slashing cuts across her torso and left arm. Team members are taken in, decontaminated, and given medical attention.

[END LOG]

Post-Mission Report: As before, team members recall little, despite bringing many samples. Red claimed that Blue sacrificed her life to save Red, even though Red was "supposed to die". Team members remember almost nothing else, including the portion recorded on the feed, except the fact of having recovered a comatose human, and the death of Blue.

After one month and three days passed, team member Blue emerged from SCP-3591, with severe but healed injuries similar to Red's. Blue similarly remembered little, but claims to have [DATA EXPUNGED]. (See Interviews.)

SCP-3591 Extra-Universal Investigation:

Open File

Close File

By order of O5-10, SCP-1985 was temporarily assigned to gather information about SCP-3591's risk and context.

Note: For those of you who do not have access to SCP-1985's file: SCP-1985 is able to travel to other universes that are undergoing "doomsday" and/or "restructuring" scenarios related to a specific item. Any universe SCP-1985 traveled to was, in theory, going through an apocalypse caused by or related to SCP-3591.

— Site-19 Director Tilda Moose

Report summaries of SCP-1985 excursions investigating SCP-3591 follow.

Earth nearly identical to our own, with SCP-3591 present (dead, inactive). Ongoing apocalypse cannot be precisely identified. Low-level reality shifts present. Effects not identified.

Five variants discovered.

Earth nearly identical to our own, but stripped of human life through an apparent mass death event. Presence of SCP-3591 verified (dead, inactive). Exact connection could not be verified.

Seven variants discovered.

Earth nearly identical to our own, until 7 to 23 months prior to SCP-1985 arrival. Recovered Foundation data caches indicate sudden widespread devastation by invisible, unknown forces. Connection to SCP-3591 theorized due to similar anomaly analysis readings, but SCP-3591 remains dead and apparently inactive.

Fifteen variants discovered.

Earth is broken in half, and uninhabitable. Most of atmosphere gone. Cause not identified. Exact strike location varies. Presence of SCP-3591 verified (dead, inactive). In two variants, humans survive in space station structures, but drive SCP-1985 off with advanced weaponry when contact is attempted.

Nineteen variants discovered.

Total shift in nature of reality. Incomprehensible to SCP-1985's senses. No way to detect presence or absence of SCP-3591.

Thirty-three variants discovered.

Earth has gone through an apocalypse of unclear nature. 70-90% of human population dead, rest in hiding. Minor reality shifts are common. Massive indistinct entities are sighted striding through deserted towns and cities. Some appear quadrupedal, some appear humanoid, often many-armed. SCP-1985 is unable to get close to them. Connection to SCP-3591 possible but unverified. Presence of SCP-3591 (dead, inactive) verified. Typically, chemical makeup of soil and atmosphere is altered. Many large areas uninhabitable. In several variants, a poisonous mist-like gas covers 80% of the Earth's surface.

Thirty-seven variants discovered.

Unique variant: Earth has been rendered uninhabitable due to massive reality shifts. SCP-1985's inbuilt recording systems cannot analyze most of the changes, but unlike most similar excursions, human survival is still possible for a limited time. Human survivors have traveled to the anomalous location called the Wanderers' Library, leaving Ways open to allow remaining survivors to follow. SCP-1985 is able to enter an outer ring of the Library and converses with survivors and Library inhabitants.

Presence of SCP-3591 verified (dead, inactive).

SCP-3591 is referred to by survivors variously as "a deserter" and/or "killed in action" in relation to an unexplained war. Inquiries are met with claims that the war should not be discussed and has nothing to do with any humans.

Notably, Library inhabitants also claim that SCP-3591 is a single, consistent entity across all realities in which it appears. This is consistent with SCP-3591's identical status in every excursion so far.

Unique variant: Apocalypse not apparent or identified. Identical to present Earth except for presence of unusually active Foundation personnel, who immediately contact SCP-1985 upon arrival. Foundation personnel unusually angry and disturbed to encounter SCP-1985, and disbelieve explanation of SCP-3591 investigation. Foundation personnel repeatedly refer to themselves as 'mainline reality', questioning how SCP-1985 could have accessed 'mainline reality' without assistance from a non-Foundation anomalous source. They refer to SCP-1985 as a "mirror" instance (possible relevance to [REDACTED]). Foundation personnel demand that SCP-1985 remand herself to their custody to be identified so that the anomalous occurrence may be resolved. SCP-1985 instead returns to home base, after verifying presence of SCP-3591 (dead, inactive). Local Foundation has built a massive titanium-laced concrete bunker over SCP-3591 as additional containment procedures.

SCP-3591 Interviews:

Open File

Close File

SECURITY CLEARANCE ACCEPTED

STATEMENT FROM AGENT "BLUE" RE: SCP-3591 EXPLORATORY TESTS (EXCERPT):

Excerpt from Blue's report after return from SCP-3591. Following sections include information expunged from main SCP-3591 article.

…well, I know Red thinks it's God. I see what she means. I don't know that I'd go that far. I don't think this thing has ever been on Earth before.

That's the thing. It's also a machine. And a place. And a structure. And maybe a world. We primarily see the humanoid image because it's the most familiar to us, the most native impression. A machine-based intelligence would probably see the machine… At least, that's my theory, but I'm pretty solid on it.

Yes, it's dead. But… I don't think it dies in the same way we do. It leaves an echo. An imprint. No — that's not what attacked me. I'll get to that. But the echo was there, and I … encountered it. Communicated with it, in a way. Like I said, I can't really recall most of it, and I can barely describe what I do recall.

Do I know what killed it? Something else like it. If you think it's a god… then another god.

But I gotta say, I'm a pagan member of Sigma-3. I know all about gods. This thing… this thing is beyond gods. And I don't say that lightly.

What do I think it is? I think it's a sign of things to come. Things we don't understand. And if what I experienced tell us anything at all, it tells us we'd better figure out what we're going to do, or our reaction is going to be very, very, very stupid.

INTERVIEW SUMMARY EXCERPTS FROM HUMAN SUBJECT RE: SCP-3591

Comatose human subject recovered from SCP-3591 was analyzed and found to be a baseline ordinary human in ill health, altered only due to obvious exposure to non-Earth elements, chemicals, etc, and surviving off of consuming non-Earth substances as food. Subject likely used anomalous techniques to survive. Analysis also indicated that subject originated from a parallel universe.

Nine months and seven days after recovery from SCP-3591, subject woke from coma.

Initially, subject did not respond to English, instead attempting to communicate in several languages which do not exist on Earth, interspersed with bouts of hysterical laughter. Eventually, subject seemed to recognize English phrases, and started responding accordingly. With brief practice, subject rapidly returned to fluency.

Subject attitude is moody, presenting long rants with little useful information interspersed with much longer periods of silence and occasional laughter.

On subject's own nature and origin:

Subject refuses to give name, but acknowledges being human, and originating from a reality largely indistinguishable from this reality.

Subject is aware of the SCP Foundation. Subject claims to have changed everything about themselves (including physical and mental form) to "escape", refusing to clarify what they wished to escape from. Subject also refuses to clarify their original relationship to the SCP Foundation.

There are strong implications that subject believes that this reality is their original home reality, and therefore that this SCP Foundation has a strong interest in identifying subject's original identity. For now, protocol dictates not contradicting this conclusion.

Subject claims not to remember the details of how they came to be inside SCP-3591, but claims it wasn't a surprise. Subject claims former familiarity with anomalous knowledges of transit, familiarity which is now absent thanks to mental alteration by contact with excessive numbers of dangerous anomalous entities.

I'm a stowaway. Everything on there, all stowaways too. Like rats sailing across with the ships to America. Or the fleas that came with them. I think a lot about rats, about insects, about the small things. I will not crush a bug. Not even a roach. Or a flea. If you knew what I knew, you wouldn't either. […] Hahaha. No. I'm not saying they are… what's the word. Sentient. […] Fine, sapient. Fine. You know what I mean. I'm just saying, I know how they feel. Or would feel, if they could.

On the nature of SCP-3591:

I can't explain it to you directly. Just showing you the things I've seen would break your mind right in half. Trust me. I've been there. And for what? You don't get it. This thing, this giant, it's not special. A woman steps on an anthill, maybe she's a little startled. A week later, she forgets. To the ants, this woman was the biggest thing that ever happened to them, to anyone they ever knew.

But the woman isn't special. The world is full of things bigger than the woman. It's just that the anthill is even less special.

When asked to elaborate on the potential dangers of SCP-3591:

It's not dangerous. It's dead. I guess, yeah, it's still dangerous as hell, but not on purpose. If you have data telling you it caused some apocalypses, you should probably reexamine that data. This thing ain't causing any ends of the world. Not on its own.

When asked to elaborate on what caused the death of SCP-3591:

What killed it? The war killed it.

Subject initially refused to elaborate, but a week later, when pressed, gave their longest answer yet.

There's a war being fought, fought by things you and I can't even understand. This thing I hitched a ride in, you're only seeing a tiny fraction of it. It's bigger than gods, to you, to us. But in the war, the real war out there, on the universal scale that matters, this super-deity is the lowest of the low. A faceless, forgettable army grunt. It doesn't have any great and special reason for being here. It was killed in battle and fell to Earth, and that's it.

Your problem isn't that you can't see this thing correctly. That's impossible, and it only bothers you because you won't stop trying. Your problem — your problem is perspective. What is… what's the word? Zoom out. Zoom out farther!

There's a war out there, yeah. We all learned about wars in history class. Once upon a time an army was fighting a war. Few of them had any idea why they were fighting. All forces bigger than they were. They said it was a war to end all wars. They were wrong. But I don't care about that. I care about the ants.

(Pause)

Sorry, right. Where was I? Right. World War I. I think about World War I like I think about rats on ships. I think about when the soldiers saw the mustard gas for the first time, how they didn't even know what to do. The world had changed underneath them and they were going to die horribly and they couldn't do anything to stop it. I can't imagine what the soldiers, even the civilians, what they must have felt when they saw the first tank roll through. The first tank in the world. Can you imagine?

But I'm telling you. We're not the soldiers. We're not driving tanks. We're not even the civilians watching as their homes burn.

We're the rats. The rats and mice whose nests the tanks crushed on the way to the battlefield somewhere else. We're the rabbits whose burrows were accidentally filled with mustard gas. We're the bugs the soldiers crushed under their feet on their way back to the trenches.

The rats, the mice, the rabbits, the bugs, they may all believe the soldiers and tanks were all about them, that they all existed to destroy them. They're all stupid. Just like we are. Just like you are. (Laughter) Fuck it, I'll just say it. Give away my big fucking secret. Fine. You got me. Not like you didn't know all along. Don't play coy, you miserable shit.

Please. Let's just put all our cards on the table. Yes, I know about the Worm. I know about Project Palisade. I know everything.

See, what I'm really talking about is the Worm. THE WORM, do you still say it in all caps? I bet you do. I know what you think the Worm is. I know because I used to think it. That it's some kind of god, some kind of ultimate destroyer.

Well, it's not. It's more like one of those drone strikes the US government was always doing when I last checked out of this reality. The ones that always missed and hit some poor random civilians. The Worm wasn't ever aimed at us. The gods above gods above gods fired it at something actually important and missed.

Honestly, from what I've learned out there, the Worm isn't even on the level of a missile. No, it's basically a rock. A rock, thrown in a war using bullets and tanks and nukes, and it just so happened to ricochet in our general direction.

And because we're human, which makes us shitty, and because of being Foundation, which makes us even shittier, we devised a way to keep the rock bouncing mindlessly around us, maybe forever. Ramping up the damage exponentially, sure, but at least we survive a little longer, just a little longer. Everything you've done, your entire project, all to bounce a rock around, because we aren't even on the level where we could just step out of the way.

So I left. Can you blame me? Goodbye to Palisade. Goodbye to humanity. Someone like me can survive out there a long time, away from the firelight, out in the dark. So I thought.

You're not still pretending to be confused…

…Oh. Oh, fuck. You're not the original at all, are you? This thing you're calling 3591… it crashed across many worlds. So I didn't… I didn't come out where I thought I did. Did I? You weren't pretending after all. This whole time… You're just another offshoot.

After the exchange above, subject ceased talking and was unresponsive to any attempts at communication for thirteen days.

Afterwards, subject has refused to discuss any subject related to SCP-3591 or the above topics. No references to Project Palisade have been located in any current Foundation archives.