Nihilist anart gone awry, intertwined with inexplicable small-town Canadiana.

Item#: 4784

Containment Class: euclid

Secondary Class: {$secondary-class}

Disruption Class: vlam

Risk Class: danger

Special Containment Procedures: Two undercover Security Officers stationed at Provisional Containment Area-94 will conduct perimeter checks at dawn and dusk. In the event of suspected damage or trespass, staff will equip SCRAMBLE1 gear before conducting an advanced sweep and re-establishing containment.

When SCP-4784-1 is not undergoing testing, the anomaly is to be concealed beneath a weighted blackout tarp, secured at each corner by a steel peg. Crossing the ten-meter safety demarcation line without SCRAMBLE protection is strictly prohibited.

Personnel with histories of depression, dissociation, and/or suicidal ideation are strongly discouraged from entering Area-94.

Opening title card.

Closing title card.

Description: SCP-4784 is a one-hectare parcel of land thirteen kilometers southeast of Hornor's Crossing, Ontario, fully enclosed by the Area-94 perimeter fence. Most territory within SCP-4784 is dense with trees, with the exception of a meadow at the approximate center of the property, thirty meters across at its widest point. As surrounding terrain is dominated by forest, brush and swampland, this area can be reached solely by controlled roadway, while the interior meadow is accessible by footpath.

SCP-4784-1 is an anomalous art installation at the center of the meadow, angled away from the secure point of entry. The focal point of the piece is an artificial rendering of a solid-state console television with a thirty-two-inch color screen and integrated speakers. It is positioned on an inclined stone plinth, three feet at its highest elevation, surrounded by a bed of artificial red roses. While all of the above objects are superficially identical to mundane analogues, they are completely immune to erosion by weather, resist attempts at manual interference, and defy material analysis. Additionally, the articulated dials on the television's "control panel" serve no function, and the thorns on the artificial roses have sharpness comparable to razor wire. These anomalies can thus be described as simulacra: creative representations of real objects.

The television screen integrated in SCP-4784-1 will remain inert unless the anomaly detects physical motion within a radius of fifty meters, at which point it will enter its active state. The anomaly begins displaying a multitude of audiovisual patterns coordinated with interlocking anomalous effects, broadly designated SCP-4784-2:

Phase
Display
Effect

Attract Sequence
Sustained bursts of audiovisual static, interspersed with assorted still images of landscapes (predominantly forest, arctic, desert, and ocean scenes), extreme close-ups of human features, mineral compositions, and rendered fractals.
Any unprotected observers with a clear line of sight are affected by a mild compulsion2 to draw nearer.

Anyone approaching within five meters of the screen will become an instance of SCP-4784-2σ, vulnerable to the anomaly's Primary Sequence. Beyond this stage, instances will not look away unless a third party physically intervenes, breaking the trance.

Opening Sequence
Fade through black to resolve on a title card. The text reads:

"UNWINDING"

"A Film by The Developer"

The background is a swimming, textured field of blue and green, interspersed with random noise.
SCP-4784-2σ will adopt a stationary position, sitting or standing, and maintain visual contact with the screen.

Primary Sequence
Semi-individualized presentation of still images and video, five minutes and twenty-three seconds in length.

For the first two minutes, SCP-4784-2 displays reactive visuals based on the subject's personal life, cultural background, and historical period. After the first forty-six seconds, these are rapidly and increasingly juxtaposed with renderings of human suffering, violence and social neglect,3 interspersed with images of undisturbed natural habitats.

After two minutes and twenty-three seconds, the timescale increases dramatically, with stylized visuals alluding to the passage of evolutionary, geologic, and cosmological time; recorded imagery alludes to the evolution of single-celled organisms4, the formation of the Milky Way galaxy5, and the cosmic "Dark Age".6
01:20: Third-party intervention is rendered impossible as SCP-4784-2σ begins to "fade" from material existence. This effect begins in the head and torso, which become increasingly translucent, spreading outwards to the extremities in irregular waves.

02:31: SCP-4784-2σ begins to "despool" along their central axis in a manner similar to textiles or film reels being unwound. An expanding, continuous "strip" of the body becomes entirely translucent, while the remainder is gradually overwritten by static.

03:52: At approximately 30% visibility, SCP-4784-2σ begins to ripple and tear vertically in a manner similar to television scan lines. This effect intensifies until SCP-4784-2σ dematerializes completely at 05:23.

Concluding Sequence
Iris out on a blooming rose, surrounded by an expanding ring of cursive text:

"If Only It Were The End…"

"Are We Cool Yet?"

Fade to black.
None.

Secondary Sequence
Iris in on a rose dying, then coming back to life in reverse.

Individualized presentation plays in accelerated reverse speed, compressed to ninety-two seconds in length.
None.

Instances of SCP-4784-2σ interrupted prior to the Primary Sequence experience severe disorientation, mild derealization and depressive symptoms for approximately three hours, but suffer no long-term damage. Despite the implication that dematerialized instances of SCP-4784-2σ are intended to rematerialize after the Secondary Sequence, such an effect has never been observed by Foundation staff.

SCP-4784-3 is a simulated document on the outer perimeter of the meadow, adjacent to the entry footpath. The object physically resembles a leather-bound guestbook with glossy paper, resting atop a pedestal in an open position; however, the anomaly does not have any pages beyond its surface. SCP-4784-3 will update with the full legal names of any dematerialized instances of SCP-4784-2σ. Upon initial containment, it carried the following message:

UNWINDING

Featuring Special Guest Stars:

Clementia Schweiger

Toni Vitela

Kathleen Stich

David Aylmer Brock

Devon Sundi

I didn't realize. I'm so sorry.

I don't want to be cool.

Goodbye.

Anna Bojarski

Prior to its acquisition by the Foundation, SCP-4784 was owned by "Apollinaire Acquisitions", a defunct front company tied to anomalous artist collective "Are We Cool Yet?" The five "guest stars" listed above have been linked to various AWCY cells across North America. Schweiger, Brock, and Sundi were all graduates of Deer College, and lived together in Three Portlands until their disappearance in 2008. This was previously attributed to death by suicide due to a co-signed, handwritten message found in their home.

According to extant records, Anna Bojarski was a sophomore student at Deer College until she stopped attending anart classes in 2008. Bojarski was struggling in all her coursework and was behind on tuition payments at the time of her disappearance; other identifying information pertaining to Bojarski is missing from her student file, and no photographic evidence has been found in any Deer College yearbooks. At this time, the Foundation believes that Anna Bojarski (AKA "The Developer") was a casualty of her own prototype at a closed exhibition facilitated by AWCY.

Addendum 4784-1: Pre-Recovery Log ("Stark Collection Tip")

Addendum 4784-1: Pre-Recovery Log ("Stark Collection Tip")

The first evidence of SCP-4784 was discovered in a photo album assembled by Luther Stark (1953-2015), an underground documentarian with known anartist ties. Stark's collection contained photographic and illustrative evidence of more than thirty anomalies, ██ of which were hitherto unknown to the Foundation.

The album was recovered by members of MTF Pi-1 ("City Slickers") following a telephone tip by PoI-69667 on 2019/07/03:

<Begin Call>

Operator: You've reached the NYC Information Desk. How can I help you?

PoI-6966: Hi! My name is Wren Masterson. "Did you know that world-renowned writer Stephen King…" (pause) Uh, actually, no. Bad idea.

Operator: Ma'am?

PoI-6966: Nope, not a "ma'am". This line does "lost and found", right? Well, I've definitely found… something.

Operator: Sir, that's not…

PoI-6966: Not a "sir", either, please stop guessing. (pause) I was going through the stacks in the NY Public Library, minding my own business, and this thing was on the shelf. Photo album. Really jumped out at me. (pause, followed by sigh) Wow, this NSA shit takes a while huh. Don't mind me, I'm just gonna start rattling off some names from this book.

Operator: Wh-

PoI-6966: Luisa Bellocchio. "TAZ-018". "The Spider and The Fly". Uh, a whole lot of these are signed "Are We Cool Yet?" and most of them look… unpleasant. "Treachery of Euclids", what the fuck is that, a Magritte pastiche? Weak. Professor Xorkanoff… well, he looks chill, at least.

Operator: I'm not sure what y-

[The operator is disconnected by Foundation AI ATLS-12, which has traced the call to a pay phone near the New York Public Library.]

PoI-6966: Finally. Howdy, officers.

[There is an audible mechanical click. The rest of PoI-6966's speech contains background noise consistent with a mundane microcassette recording.]

PoI-6966 (playback): Never thought this day would come. I've found something weird and artsy and interesting that is definitely not for public consumption. Hell, I don't even want it in my library, let alone the NYPL, but I can't return it to the shelf, because that would be irresponsible, and I can't destroy it, because this could obviously be useful to someone and I have certain problems with bookburners! It's a conundrum. Solution: give it to y'all. Consider it a gift. Been hearing horror stories about janitors for more than a decade, but you're supposedly about containment, and flipping through this book, I see things that should absolutely be contained, if they aren't already. Maybe it'll help if you have an index, even if this one is, like… "Tourist Grandpa's Artsy Guide to Trigger Warnings". Yeesh.

I'm going to bag this thing and leave it under the bench, right by this phone, and you can come get it. I'll be long gone, of course. I don't want you to grab me again… what, did you really think I wouldn't notice a fat twelve-hour gap in my memory? I might be a little scatterbrained, but I'm not stupid. I'm actually quite careful, and to the best of my knowledge, there's only one thing that's really, truly missing from my collection. Given how I lost it, y'all have almost certainly got it packed away in a white box somewhere. Yeah?

There's a quid pro quo, you see. I want my Dead Kennedys album back.

[There is another click, then a clattering noise, as the phone is returned to its cradle.]

<End Call>

Addendum 4784-2: Interview Log ("Tilford's Folly")

Addendum 4784-2: Interview Log ("Tilford's Folly")

During initial containment, Foundation assets sought background information from local residents under the auspices of Standard Cover Story 302 ("Legal Eagles"), presenting themselves as representatives of the Ontario government. The following transcript summarizes a 2019/07/20 interview between Agent Calvin Harris and by Felix Kipp, local branch librarian and amateur historian, whose domicile was three kilometers west of SCP-4784.

<Begin Log>

Agent Calvin Harris: Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mr. Kipp.

Felix Kipp: Oh, it's my pleasure. We don't get a lot of new faces in these parts, and my patrons have heard all the best stories already. Multiple times, in fact. (laughing) How can I help you today?

Harris: Well, my ministry is looking into some land use and zoning irregularities. Do you know anything about a plot of land a few kilometers east of your property? It was purchased by a private company in 2008.

Kipp: You mean Tilford's Folly. Sure. I would never have realized anyone owned it, if not for Myra, the county clerk; she filled me in. (pause) At length.

Harris: (shuffling papers) I wasn't aware it had a local name. What can you tell me about it?

Kipp: Nothing, really. Everyone knows it, but no one visits. Nothing to see. The terrain is too rough for development, so nobody bothers trying.

Harris: Have you ever seen anyone in or around "Tilford's Folly"?

Kipp: Nope.

Harris: Are you sure? I understand there are a lot of deer around here. Maybe hunters-

Kipp: (laughing) No, no. Nobody hunts in Tilford's Folly. Not for a very long time. (pause) Actually, do you want to hear the story behind the name? I warn you, it's a little… strange.

Harris: Absolutely. Weird tales are my favorite.

Kipp: (laughing) To each their own. I prefer conventional mysteries over urban legends; they've got nice neat endings, and this one is something of an anticlimax. (clearing throat) Regardless. That place is called "Tilford's Folly" because of a murder, back in the winter of 1886. Nobody around here actually knew the victim; he was just a dead body, blasted close-range with a shotgun.8 Not even buried, just dumped on some fallen branches. It took them a while to figure out who he was, and even when they did, the circumstances didn't make a lot of sense.

Samuel Tilford was an Englishman. He was privileged, if not truly affluent, but he was also a disaffected romantic type who wanted to make his own way. According to his family in Britain, Tilford corresponded with a landowner outside Hornor's Crossing — a farmer who couldn't handle the whole job on his own, and was looking for a partner. Tilford traveled to Canada, spent a few days in Niagara Falls, and then boom! Dead in the swamp, like he dropped out of the sky.

The next month9, the police declared they'd nabbed the perpetrator. Claimed that he lured Tilford to Hornor's Crossing as a sort of investment scam: there was no farm, no house, just a victim with money and a man who wanted it. This man met up with Tilford, took him on a "hunting trip" to show him the surrounding territory, then blew his guts out and left him dead in the woods. There was a confession, a trial, a hanging, and a burial. Then it was done, and there didn't seem to be any point to any of it. Hence, "Tilford's Folly". A senseless waste of life. (pause) Now… the strange part. Everyone knows about the murder around here, because it's the most memorable chapter of our town's history. But absolutely no one knows the murderer.

Harris: I thought you said he was caught, tried and executed.

Kipp: Oh, he was! It was in all the papers, along with details of the confession. Lots of people turned up to watch the hanging, and they all reported the same thing: the killer asphyxiated on the gallows.10 But in all the documents I've ever seen, primary and secondary, contemporaneous or otherwise, no one refers to the man by name. He's always "the accused", or "the murderer", or "the convict".

Harris: Photographs? Descriptions?

Kipp: None. Some claim that there was a painting, completed sometime after the trial, but nobody's ever found it. There'd be all sorts of hullabaloo if they did!

Harris: Was the killer buried near here?

Kipp: The body was supposedly interred in the prison cemetery, but all those graves are marked, and he's not there. They did a site survey in the sixties. Nothing.

Harris: So… there's no physical evidence of the perpetrator? What about the victim?

Kipp: Oh, there was definitely a victim. There are photographs of the scene, and of the cadaver. That's how they identified Samuel Tilford, actually; they put a picture in the paper, and after he was recognized, they sent the body back to England, where he was buried in a family plot.

Harris: What about Tilford's correspondence with the killer?

Kipp: The letters have never been found. It's all based on the family's written testimony.

Harris: Huh. You weren't kidding about it being strange. (pause) Any theories?

Kipp: (laughing) Well of course! There are lots. All conjecture. None actually track.

Harris: Some kind of cover-up?

Kipp: Obviously, since the killer has been so thoroughly erased. I'm tempted to draw a parallel between this and those awful shootings I see on the news; they censor the perpetrator's name, to deny them glory or satisfaction or notoriety.

Harris: This was only one death, though.

Kipp: Yes, that's where the parallel falls apart. This crime was shocking, but not truly grotesque, more… inelegant. Leaving a corpse in a clearing when there's swamp and brush all around, that's rather clumsy. As for the parties involved, neither men were known in town, but Samuel Tilford was a novelty. An Englishman, dead in Canada! Great Scott, by jove, and other such things! The press was beside themselves and the authorities needed a perpetrator. Tilford certainly didn't shoot himself out there in the swamp, dump his own body, and dispose of the gun.

Now, I do like mysteries, but I don't have much regard for police. (pause) Don't make that face at me, young man, I know what I've seen and I know what I've read. Police detectives close cases, it's what they do. They take a smattering of clues and try to piece them into a convenient whole, and it doesn't always work, because they don't really care about being right, just being done. Whether they solve anything is another question entirely. I think the most plausible explanation for all this mystery is just… they caught someone. Not necessarily someone guilty. They beat a confession out of him. It didn't make sense, but it stuck, so he hanged. They may not have been ashamed, but… they certainly covered their tracks.

[The interviewee's dog enters the room. Becoming aware of Agent Harris, the dog barks twice, then approaches.]

Kipp: Oh, and here's Ben! Sorry, don't mind him — he's friendly, just old and blind.

Harris: No need to apologize, sir. May I pet him?

Kipp: By all means.

Harris: Well, I very much appreciate the background information. I do have another question, though.

Kipp: Shoot.

Harris: During our site survey, we found a… junk heap, out in "Tilford's Folly". It was covered up with a tarp and a layer of netting, secured with cinderblocks.

Kipp: Oh? Left by those absentee owners, no doubt.

Harris: That's what we think. (pause) You're certain that you've never seen anyone near that property? No hunters, no maintenance men, nobody?

Kipp: Absolutely. The view from my window is hardly universal, but it's generally pretty peaceful. Not a lot of movement over there, aside from deer, squirrels and birds.

Harris: See, that's very odd, because the property was purchased in 2008. The tarp and net are weathered, but they're definitely not that old. (pause) In fact, according to a tag in the lining, the tarp was made in 2012.

Kipp: Hmm. Are you suggesting that someone's been… wandering around out there? (pause) Heavens! I really ought to lock my doors. Ben isn't a very good guard dog.

<End Log>

Closing Statement: The above historical details regarding "Tilford's Folly" have been independently corroborated by Foundation researchers. The 1886 death of Samuel Tilford and the murderer's subsequent capture and execution were extensively documented in the contemporary press, yet no documentary or material evidence of the killer's identity has been found.

Felix Kipp died in a household accident three days after his interview with Agent Harris. Forensics specialists ruled the incident non-anomalous, and the Foundation has since acquired the property as a discreet Observation Post overlooking Area-94.

Addendum 4784-3: Memorandum ("Backscatter")

Addendum 4784-3: Memorandum ("Backscatter")

Our theory is that "Tilford's Folly" is the narrative backscatter from a vastly overpowered pataphysical weapon. I can't provide you with a full and thorough explanation of how it works, because said knowledge would probably kill us too; here's a nice safe analogy, instead.

Imagine a pistol. Pick it up and put it to your temple and pull the trigger. You are dead. End scenario.

Now obviously, you aren't dead, because this is a thought experiment. But what if you don't know that? What if this takes place within a simulation so perfect, you fervently and completely believe in your own death? Well, it still won't kill you, because you are real and the pistol is not. Thinking about suicide is painful, and that anguish grinds people down, but ideation is not action, and we cannot destroy ourselves with fictional bullets.

Except these people did. How?

Rather than a pistol, imagine a shotgun. This death would be messy, and I don't just mean gory: pellets would bounce around everywhere, and since they're tougher and faster than anything nearby, they would get embedded in the surrounding crime scene.

"Tilford's Folly" is that crime scene. Some mystery man may have pulled a trigger in 1886, but Unwinding was the shotgun, and it was fired in 2008. We could accurately term this a retrocausal effect, but Unwinding is not a time machine; it is art, and art has fewer rules. Look at the parallels. These deaths were all staged in an open, natural space; no victims were local to Hornor's Crossing, but we know about their lives; the same cannot be said of the perpetrator in 1886, or Anna Bojarski. With those gaps in her student record, we have no biographical information, no photos, no known address. The only thing left is "The Developer's" imaginary shotgun, an infinite supply of conceptual ammunition… and a cluster of plot holes where people used to be.

Don't look in the chamber. This show may not end with a literal bang, but it definitely ends.

- Dr. Michelle Wilkes, Department of Pataphysics

Footnotes

1. SCRAMBLE sets are computer-assisted eyepieces which automatically identify and obscure hostile memes and cognitohazards before they reach the viewer's optic nerve.

2. Analogous to the "high place phenomenon" (HPP), a momentary urge to jump from precarious heights, experienced throughout the general human population.

3. Derived from newsreel footage, documentaries, and other material available to the civilian population.

4. 3.5 ± 0.3 billion years ago.

5. 8.8 ± 1.7 billion years ago.

6. Beginning approximately 377,000 years after the Big Bang, before the formation of the first stars.

7. Wren Masterson (AKA "steakshift"), member of GoI-5869 ("Gamers Against Weed"), self-described "indie librarian".

8. On or around February 3, 1886.

9. March 17, 1886.

10. April 1, 1886.

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whistl_stahp has joined the chat.

steakshift: yo

whistl_stahp: hi.

whistl_stahp: what happened to the old server?

steakshift: fried it. opsec. you can call this… backchannel 2

whistl_stahp: I'm kinda surprised you bothered.

whistl_stahp: you could easily have pretended this never happened.

steakshift: nope! quid pro quo. you helped trick the janitors and i owe you

steakshift: otherwise, mission complete! black box sealed, problem solved

whistl_stahp: are you kidding? NOTHING was solved! what about your mentor?

steakshift: Felix was murdered. then he wasn't.

steakshift: im having a hard time with that but its done

steakshift: you should try to move on

whistl_stahp: can't. there are a ton of loose ends.

steakshift: such as

whistl_stahp: did you ever go back to Deer College?

steakshift: haven't set foot in 3ports since 2008

whistl_stahp: not even to destroy evidence?

steakshift: nope. old flesh is dead, couldn't risk being recognized

whistl_stahp: how many pictures of Unwinding in the Stark album?

steakshift: three

whistl_stahp: you're sure?

steakshift: duh, i put em there

whistl_stahp: o k a y

whistl_stahp: what happened to Kipp's dog? Ben, the yellow lab?

steakshift: idk? maybe he wandered off, got lost. poor old guy :(

whistl_stahp: you said every detail was important

whistl_stahp: so how did the blind dog get outside when all the doors were closed?

steakshift: that's

steakshift: a good question

steakshift: plot hole maybe

whistl_stahp: ughhh I can't even tell if you're joking.

whistl_stahp: actually, for that matter

whistl_stahp: when we planned this spy shit, you said there were no historical or cultural precedents in the Crossing

whistl_stahp: did you FORGET about the murder right there in Tilford's Folly?

whistl_stahp: with a perp and a painting NO ONE has ever seen?

steakshift: the what in where

steakshift: youve lost me

whistl_stahp: wait you actually don't know?

whistl_stahp: Felix Kipp never told you about Tilford's Folly?

steakshift: wtf is Tilford's Folly?