J) Out of the silent planet, dreams of desolation } 
+ Out of the silent planet, come the demons of creation J 
J) Out of the silent planet, dreams of desolation } 
+ Out of the silent planet, come the demons of creation J 


SCP-937: Walking Sticks 


Item #: SCP-937 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-937 specimens are to 
remain at Site-92, located at [REDACTED] in Melanesia. Site-92 is 
listed by its host government as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and 
is off limits for all but selected personnel, all of whom are Foundation 
researchers and security staff. SCP-937 hives in the wild are to be 
quarantined and incinerated. 


Description: SCP-937 is a strangler fig tree, closely related to Ficus 
watkinsiana, and has been classified as Ficus formicidae in [DATA 
EXPUNGED]. SCP-937 appears very similar to other strangler fig 
trees for most of its life cycle, although its reproductive process is 
unique. 


When SCP-937 matures, it begins to flower and bear fruit, 
designated SCP-937-2. The flowers are apparently self-pollinating, 
as opposed to other fig trees. When developed, the "fruit" are 
insectoid in appearance, with a head, thorax, abdomen and six legs, 
growing up to five centimeters in length. SCP-937-2 specimens have 
a convergent anatomy with insects, including a cellulose 
exoskeleton, spiracles and heart analogues, but lacking a proper 
digestive tract. SCP-937-2 have leafy growths on the back that 
resemble wings, with ripe specimens hardening to a flattened wing 
of fibrous, papery tissue, reminiscent of a maple seed's rotors. 


Once it is fully developed, an individual will detach itself temporarily 
and begin to walk around and tend its parent tree. SCP-937-2 will 
forage for plant and animal matter and use such to fertilize the roots 
of not only its host plant, but also any other nearby instances of 
SCP-937. The various subtypes SCP-937-2 "fruit" behave rather in 
the manner of ants with the parent SCP-937 functioning as both hive 
and queen. 


Set Up Thine Altar Here 


Dr. Thaddeus Xyank leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, 
wishing desperately to find a radio station that was not playing that 
godawful holiday music. A record snowfall on Christmas Eve. How 
fucking quaint. Everyone he had bumped into today was so 
oppressively cheery it turned his stomach. So here he sat in half lit 
office, rubbing his eyes and hoping against all hope that it would just 
plain go away. 


The team disappeared into the back of the object, 
carrying their wired transmitter with them. "Alpha, one- 
zero, confirm uplink." 


~Reading you clear. Uplink established~ 
"Excellent. Do you have visual on any dash twos?" 


~Negative. Scanner sweep confirms they're all at the 
feast.~ 


"Alright," Thad replied. "Launch on my mark." 


By his calculations, this was the quietest of all possible Christmas 
Eves at Site-17. But the quiet didn't stop the memories trickling back 
in, and despite a mountain of papers to his right insisting they 
needed solutions, it didn't seem he would be getting any work done. 
Thad's eyes crept up the filing cabinet and bored holes in the top 
drawer where he knew his emergency bottle of brown liquor (he was 
pretty sure it was rum this time) lay waiting for him. 


"...Fuck it." 


In his pocket were keys which were soon in his hand and sooner in 
the lock and on his desk was a bottle and no glass. He kicked off his 


shoes, propped his feet on the desk, popped the cork and drank, 
watching the snow continue to accumulate outside. 


"LENCHIT! LENCHIT! TALK TO ME!" 
Static. 
"MARKINE? TALSKIN? COELER?" 


The object began to shake. At the edge of his 
perception, Thad swore he saw the figures on the face of 
it begin to... shift. Not move exactly, but change, 
moment by moment, between three separate versions of 
themselves. 


"Dr. Xyank! They're gone! Get out of there!" Kremlin 
shouted in the back of his skull. The alarm was blaring 
and the bulkhead sliding closed. 


"Room for one more?" 


Thad glanced to the doorway and was only a little bit (but not very) 
surprised to see another person who looked exactly like himself. He 
smirked and shook his head. "Quietest of all possible December 
24ths?" 


"Yeah..." the Xyank at the door responded. "Funny.. out of infinity, 
two of me picked the same one." 


"Was bound to happen somewhere." Thad corked the small bottle 
and tossed it to Xyank. "Pull the nameplate and close the door. 
There's a record snowfall to watch." 


~Isolation protocol is now in effect. This lab will be 
sealed in 10 seconds. All Foundation Personnel, 
evacuate immediately~ 


The whole room began to flicker rapidly then, while 
simultaneously not changing at all, and Thad became 
very, very dizzy watching it. As quickly as his legs would 
move (which was not very), he backed toward the 
closing door. 


There was a burst of sound and light, and the face of the 
object cracked. Seventy five hours with a diamond 
carbide drill had been needed just to sample the mineral, 
and before Thad's eyes a crack as wide as his thumb 
had opened up. 


From within, the creature emerged. And Thaddeus saw. 
He saw very well indeed. 


Xyank did as he was asked and perched on the corner of the desk, 
taking a large, long swallow of the rum he had been given. "... Hey, 
how old are you?" 


"You don't know?" 


"| don't remember this, so... no. I'm sure | don't need to explain it at 
this point." 


Thad rolled his eyes and took the bottle back. "I'm not sure how 
much good it would do." Another hard swallow. The liquor felt hot 
and filled the back of his mouth with salty nastiness, but the finish 
was smooth and pleasant, like molasses and ginger. He checked his 
watch, and then his internal chronometer, and did some quick math. 
"...I'll be seventy-five in about four days." 


Xyank nodded, pulling a chair out of a neglected corner of the room 
and mirroring his double's posture... it just seemed more natural, 
less disorienting. "I'll be eighty-two in the same." 


"Really? Surprised I'm holding up that well. Have you been back 
home to refresh the..." Thad vaguely gestured to his torso. "Well, 
any of it." 


Xyank shook his head. "You know there's no ‘there’ there anymore." 


He ran down corridors as they screamed. As they blew 
their brains out. As they tore at their flesh. He ran past 
sirens as they howled. He did his best to ignore the 
raving over the intercom. He ran with about fifteen other 
people who also knew they would run no matter what, 
until a pipe broke and hot steel meant for an isolation 


protocol melted their faces off. 


And he kept running. Because that's what he saw and 
that's what was right. 


"Right..." Thad said. "Thanks for that." He took another shot and 
slammed the bottle down. 


They shared a moment in silence. Snow drifted placidly downward, 
highlighted by the sulfur orange glow in the parking lot beyond the 
window. If he listened carefully, Thad was sure he could almost hear 
it. 


"It's funny," Xyank said finally. "All the numbers, all the rigor of the 
theory, and it still doesn't explain moments like this one." 


"Is this the part where an older, wiser me explains in terms | can 
understand some secret key to unlocking all the pain of December 
the 24th. And then | bend over on my desk after you leave and have 
the good long cry I've been putting off these past 30 years, because 
Christmas Magic or some other ridiculous horseshit?" 


Xyank rubbed the bridge of his nose with both hands. "No...It's the 
part where | point out that if you wanted, you'd never have to 
experience a December 24th ever again. Not until you were actually 
ready for it." 


Thad glared at his double with the fury of ONE star in particular. 
Undeterred, Xyank continued. "...And yet here we are." 


The escape capsules up ahead, for Class B andA 
assets to get out in the event that something just this 
ludicrous had happened. 


A man wielding a crowbar smashed him in the face 
suddenly. Completely expectantly, but with no time to 
react. Seeing is not undoing. This track was set. Fifteen 
seconds and this man had already plucked out his own 
eyes. 


Thad saw stars. He raised an arm and blocked the 


crowbar. Thad's radius broke but the titanium ulna held 
firm. He grabbed the crowbar, bashed the eyeless 
madman and ran, half blind and bleeding, back down the 
hall. 


There would be just one capsule left. 
"| had work to do," Thad insisted. 


"You could have done it in 18th century Istanbul, or 30th century 
Mars with equal convenience," Xyank countered. 


"I've changed my mind. Get out." 


"So you can drink yourself stupid and alone on Christmas eve?" 
Xyank asked. 


"Yes, that is exactly why." Thad wasn't looking at his companion 
anymore, so he was shocked when he reached for the bottle and his 
fingers grabbed only air. His fist struck the desk hard enough to 
make it jump. "WILL YOU-" 


"NO." Xyank said, drinking a modest nip. "No. | absolutely will not let 
you sit here in the dark with your demons alone." 


Thad's jaw clenched so tight that his teeth ached, and still he 
clamped tighter, speaking through pencil line lips. "Why?" 


Soaring over the city, he saw the creature. It was 
enormous. It was beautiful. It was horrible. 


lt saw. It saw, and so did everyone else. They saw very 
well indeed. 


Most of them broke beneath it. Some stayed to fight the 
broken and keep the innocent innocent, even to the last 
moment which they knew was coming. Some held hands 
and hugged their lovers tightly. Some beat oblivion to the 
punch. 


Thaddeus Xyank ran. 


Later he would say that he panicked in his own way like 
so many others did. 


But it wasn't panic. He wasn't even there. Where a mind 
should have been, there was only matter, cold and 
dispassionate, riding on the rails of fate. 


"Because it's not your fault," Xyank said finally. 


Thad's body suddenly felt very... very strange. Like a balloon inside 
full of something both warm and cold at once had suddenly burst. 
His eyes began to cloud. 


"| came here because what happened was..." Xyank paused looking 
for words but there weren't any. "...| came to pay my respects. 
Because after talking to Dr. Glass for long enough—" 


Thad's emotional revelation paused briefly for a sputtering laugh. 
The drink was starting to sink in behind his sinus, but he would cling 
to the mask of sanity as long as he could. 


"Shut up and listen to me. Listen to YOU. This is bigger than us. We 
are small wheels in this machine, if we can be said to be wheels at 
all. The fact that you can see it, doesn't make it yours!" 


"So what?!" Thad said, grabbing the bottle back roughly. "I'm 
supposed to just sit back and do nothing while causality falls apart? 
Have you seen the naked present? Have you even tried?! Someone 
has got to do something!" 


Xyank took a deep breath and cleaned his glasses. "| know...And 
you will." He stood, taking the bottle out of Thad's stupefied hands, 
and pulling one last nip from the bottle before pouring the last ounce 
on the floor. "But it's too heavy for you. And the sooner you realize 
that you're not the only one capable of understanding it, the better 
off this world will be." Without looking, Xyank pulled a bit of paper 
from his pocket, and began to scribble a shape. 


He saw this, but did not know it or feel it. And as the wall 
of light flew toward him, as he saw it would, he would 
probably have thought himself a coward. 


"Fine, thank you for your weak platitudes, Mr. Ghost of Christmas 
Future. I'll be sure to send Dickens your—" 


...But there wasn't time. 


Silence. There was no one left to berate. The double was gone, 
leaving only the outline of his loafers in the liquor on the floor. Alone 
once more, without even himself to keep company, Thaddeus Xyank 
stood, took the nameplate into his pocket, and walked down a fleet 
of quiet corridors to the parking lot. Cold air stung his nose in the 
snowy night, and for a moment he thought he saw a pattern in the 
swirling of the flakes as they passed by each lamp post. Yet there 
was no pattern. Merely the quiet whisper of wind, ice, and simple 
random beauty. 


When his phone rang, he answered it, sobered himself, and got into 
his car. 


His very next sensation was that he was alive, and that 
he no longer saw. At least that was something. 


Part 5: 20 GOTO 10 | Part 7: The Kitchen sink 


Setting Sun 


| told them they had six months - at most a year - to bring the US to 
its knees, and then things would go to hell. Now, everything was 
going exactly as | predicted. Midway - a total disaster of blind luck. 
Four carriers lost. We had lost the initiative - and retaking it was a 
not going to be an easy task. 


| rubbed what remained of my left hand on my face. That's what 
you're here for, | thought. | poured over battle plans for the defense 
of the Solomons. After ten minutes of struggle, | came to the 
conclusion that stress from the prior couple of weeks had clouded 
my mind. 


| resolved to clear my head with a walk. Rabaul was not terribly 
pleasant this time of year - but the fresh sea air should clear my 
head, help me think a bit more clearly. Prepare myself for whatever 
was to come. 


"Be aware, sir, that your flight arrives in two hours. After they refuel, 
you should be leaving for your scheduled inspection tour in 
Bougainville." An attempt to raise morale. | hoped it wasn't for 
naught. 


| chuckled at my secretary. "Haruto, how long have we known each 
other? Have | ever been late for anything?" 


Haruto smiled back. "Go on. I'll see you in two hours." 


A salute from the door guard, and a wave of the warm, humid air of 
the Pacific washed over me. 


The two hours had passed quicker than | had hoped - | did not feel 
any more hopeful than | did before. 


The flight crew had just landed, and were now dismounting the 


aircraft. | anxiously awaited outside the hangar. | saw Haruto 
approaching in one of the staff cars, but it did little to relieve my 
anxieties. 


"Never, ever late, Admiral. Oh! Before | forget. There's been a slight 
change of plans - you have a replacement plane, the usual had 
some mechanical issues. It's been modified in some way - you're the 
only one on that flight. The rest of us are in the other. Not sure how 
that happened, but your regular flight should meet us in Bougainville 
and the rest will continue as planned." 


| frowned. Logisitics is usually better about keeping everything in 
order - switching the plane at the last minute for this sort of trip 
meant that something went seriously wrong. 


Petty worries. | have bigger things to fret about. Like keeping the 
damned Americans out of the Solomons. 


"As long as we're not late." 


| boarded almost without incident; the crew, unusually, had a bit of 
difficulty loading my personal effects. Must be a green crew, | 
thought. They otherwise seemed fairly competent. A few minutes 
later, we were in the air. | found it puzzling that this plane did not 
seem very different from the usual one, but rationalized that 
whatever modifications it had were not immediately apparent. Poor 
Haruto and the others must be crammed into the other plane like a 
rice ration. 


A crew member struggled to navigate through to the passenger 
compartment. "Admiral?" a rather ponderous voice spoke from 
around the corner. He attempted to salute, but hardly succeeded in 
the confinement of the aircraft. He entered the passenger 
compartment, frowned, and went back up the ladder into upper 
deck. 


The din of the aircraft engines inconveniently located adjacent to the 
passenger compartment made keeping any sort of coherent train of 
thought an exercise in futility. Mercifully, the flight between 
Bougainville and Rabaul was comparatively short - about 90 
minutes. | attempted to relax myself in what little space | had -