Director's Note: To whoever keeps adding this gibberish to the database: we will eventually figure out how to prevent you from doing this. You're wasting your time, and it's not funny.

Item #: SCP-3344

Object Class: Safe or Euclid I guess. Let's go with Euclid since I'm not sure.

Special Containment Procedures: Unnecessary because subject itself is likely not contagious, but the symptom of something else. SCP-3344 can just sleep in whatever is available in Site 24; unused bunk rooms, empty quarters, floors, wherever. It's not going anywhere anytime soon, so consider it self-contained.

Description: SCP-3344 is a caucasian humanoid male, 36 years of age. Subject's main anomalous effect seems to be that everyone that has ever had direct contact with its father believes him to be dead, and will not interact with it in any meaningful way. Subject is unable to interact with these people physically, and changes he makes to the environment around them go completely unnoticed. Persons who believe subject to be deceased have a fairly consistent view of the circumstances surrounding its supposed death, which apparently was a car accident caused by the subject driving under the influence of alcohol. It should be noted that the subject does not regularly imbibe alcohol, and has never actually driven drunk before.

Though it is not clear what anomaly caused SCP-3344's anomalous effects, the date that it occurred was likely sometime in September of 2008. It is believed the full effect of the unknown catalyst was not reached until November of 2008. It is hypothesized that the memory effects first originated in the subject's father, and spread out to those closest to him geographically, affecting the majority of his co-workers at his job.

On April 26, 2015, SCP-3344 infiltrated Site 241. Attempts by the subject to inform non-affected Foundation staff of his situation were fruitless, as their investigations usually led to contact with the subject's father, and subsequently putting them under the same effects. Any documentation they made was either deleted or went completely unnoticed. Most non-affected individuals were low level employees, with no access to means of shielding themselves from the effects. Those who did attempt to avoid the effects through use of higher level technology or other SCP artifacts, failed.

Addendum 1: Okay, that's the best I could do to try and add myself to the database. I can't really write that clinical shit, and I'm over it at this point. It's been 8 years since my wife and kids, and all my other family members started treating me like a ghost. Hell, a ghost would probably get more acknowledgement. They remember a funeral that never took place. They remember non-existent speeches at a non-existent wake while I screamed at them that I was right there. They ignored the people who never knew my dad, who I tried to use to get them to understand what happened. It was gratifying at first to see their confused expressions as my family and friends basically ignored anything they said about me as if they were robots who couldn't interpret the data they were receiving. But it made no difference.

One of my new friends asked me, after he got over his incredulity at the entire messed up situation, why I didn't just move to a new place where no one could possibly know my dad. I could do that, you know, but it would feel not just like giving up on my family, but giving up on myself. They all think I died, but they're the ones who are ghosts. I lost my wife, my three children, my brothers, my sister, my mother, my father, my uncles, my aunts, my grandparents, my cousins, my closest and oldest friends. And it's all because of this place. My dad's work. I can't blame him though. He has no idea, couldn't have known. But the reality for me is that it wouldn't have happened if he worked somewhere normal. Somewhere that didn't have the most disturbing shit behind bars.

It's not his fault, but my investigation has gone completely cold now. His work has brought him into contact with countless…things. People. Other organizations. Any of them could have caused this and there's no way to tell because of the nature of it. It's sort of a self-hiding anomaly, and there's nothing in the documentation with similar effects. And now that he's the director of the site, there's pretty much no one left that's unaffected. I know that I should've just moved on now, but I've come this far and…I just can't let go. I'm sorry. I should, but I'm just not strong enough.

I'm sorry Dad. For your sake, I hope what I'm about to do won't work. But I have to try. You don't deserve this, but neither do I. I want my life back. If it works, I'll take care of Mom. I promise.

I love you.

- Niklas Carver, SCP-3344

Addendum 2: I know you can't read this, or at least you can't really process the information, but I feel compelled to add it anyways. You can try and erase this all you want. I'll put it back every time. Every. Single. Time. Until I'm dead or I'm not just an anomaly anymore. And you can't stop me because at this point I probably have higher clearance than you. I will not be deleted.

Footnotes

1. Finding out what my dad did for a living, and locating this place was the hard part. Everything else was a cakewalk thanks to my…state of being, I guess. Also, I'm sorry about the burnt popcorn last February. That was my bad, but it gets pretty old to have your food taken out of the microwave before it's done for the 18th time.