Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck. .. 

D-5111’s mind scrambled as she tried to get her bearings. 
Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink 

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, a foothold appeared. 
Patricia Walker... 

She blinked and her breathing slowed. 

I’m Patricia Walker... 

From that mental starting block several more pieces fell in place. 


I’m... 38. | was born in... Eugene... no... Corvallis, Oregon. I’ve 
been a Registered Nurse for... 15... 16 years... 


Like water cooling to ice, her identity solidified within her mindscape. 


I’ve been married for 18 years... my husband's a pediatrician... | 


have two children... A teenage son and a young daughter... their 
names... what are their names... 


Patricia closed her eyes and concentrated. Name after name flew 
past her, but none seemed to fit. 


Jason, Johnathan, June, Marco, Emily, Taylor, Billy, Cecil, Darren, 
Michele, Derek, Eric, Sasha, Jacob, Daniel, Troy... 


The PA in the room pinged, ripping Patricia from the stream of 
names flowing through her mind. 


“Attention!” A masculine voice called over the PA. “All D-Class 
personnel, please report to your dormitory common rooms for 
orientation.” 


In the corner of the room, a door hissed open. One by one, the 
various women around Patricia cautiously filed out into the adjoining 
room. Patricia got to her feet, and shuffled along with the herd, 
ending up in a large room packed with men and women in similar 
orange jumpsuits. 


“Ah, yes,” a voice called from the front of the room, over the din of 
close to 50 confused people mumbling to one another. Patricia’s 
eyes turned to the front of the room. Standing between two stoic 
guards was a slender woman with short blond hair. Next to her was 
a pudgy man in a lab coat, his eyes obscured by thick glasses. 


“Your attention, please,” the woman called again, but the murmuring 
continued to fill the room. Eventually the woman sighed and pulled a 
small remote like object out of her pocket, and pressed a button. 


The room was filled with a high pitched squeal, all eyes turning to 
the woman, and all falling silent as they covered their ears. The 
woman gave another sigh. 


“That’s better,” she said. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen. I’m 
Morrison, the D-Class warden for this unit. This gentleman beside 
me is Dr. Tanner, our unit physician. By now you probably all have a 
lot of concerns and questions. Where am |? How did | get here? 
What happens next? Bear with me for the next half an hour or so, 


and | can promise you answers. This is your D-Class orientation.” 
Morrison gave a small unenthused smile before she continued. 


“Let’s start with the simple stuff. Where are you? Right now you are 
about two kilometers underground in a facility run by a large 
international research organization dedicated to the preservation of 
humanity. The research and field work done by this group has saved 
countless lives the world over, and expanded our understanding in 
every scientific field. Which brings me to answer why you are here.” 


“On occasion, the research done by this organization requires 
human test subjects, and human interaction with our objects of 
study. As such, through an impartial lottery, you were all selected 
and brought here. For the next month each of you will be 
participating in one or more experiments. At the end of your time, 
your memory is to be wiped and you'll be returned to where ever we 
found you. During that time, you will live here under my watch.” 


Morrison scanned the crowd before her. 


“| run a tight ship in my D-Class unit, but | think you'll find me to be 
more than accommodating. Together we'll get you through your 
time, get you out, and get you back to your lives. Am | clear?” 


The crowd responded with a choir of yelled questions and shouted 
demands. Morrison rolled her eyes and pressed the button on her 
small remote yet again. The crowd fell silent in the face of the high 
pitched squeal. 


“Yeah, we’re going to be a little more organized than that, folks,” 
Morrison replied. “Right now you will each report back to your bunk 
where you will wait for Dr. Tanner and his aides to perform your 
orientation physical. After that, my associates will be here to answer 
your questions in an ORGANIZED fashion, first come first served.” 


“And what if | fucking don’t!” A man stepped forward from the crowd. 
He was bald and easily stood two feet taller than Morrison. “You 
can’t keep us here! We’re not prisoners, you have no right to...” 


One of the guards quickly closed the distance to the man and 


When restrained and approached with SCP-825, subject became 
highly aggressive. Subject was later terminated without further 
experimentation. 

Additional Comments: This confirms that SCP-825 is also effective 
on non-humans. Request submitted for talking bird or signing ape 
for further experimentation. 


Date: - -20 

Subject: Technician and Security Personnel 

Info: Accidental application. 

Results: The circumstances of application are unknown, but both 
subject were discovered holding SCP-825 with their fingers just 
inside the rim. Their positions suggest that __waas first to be 
exposed, and that was exposed in the attempt to remove 
SCP-825 from him. It is estimated that subjects were exposed for 9 
hours before discovery. Both were unresponsive. 

Additional Comments: Containment procedures updated to 
prevent a similar incident occurring: in subsequent experimentation, 
SCP-825 will be applied to some other appendage rather than the 
head, so that facial expressions of subjects may also be monitored. 


Date: - -20 

Subject: D14827 

Info: Subject sentenced for 4 counts of homicide, the earliest being 
his father who it is suspected was abusive. Subject has two younger 
sisters of whom he is fiercely protective. (See history of violent 
incidents with other inmates, resulting from insults against his 
family.) 

Results: It was predicted that the subject would likely relive an 
incident of abuse against himself or his family by his deceased 
father, whom the subject greatly feared. While this was broadly the 
case, the subject found himself in the position of the attacker, 
unwillingly committing a series of increasingly violent physical and 
sexual attacks against his mother and two sisters. 

Additional Comments: Subject was discovered in his cell the next 
morning, having committed suicide. While SCP-825 does not directly 
cause physical harm, clearly the mental effects can result in indirect 
harm. Care must be taken in the post-processing of subjects, 
particularly those of continuing value. 


silenced him with a stun baton. The room fell silent as the guard 
quickly threw the man over his shoulder and took him away. 


“Alright then,” Morrison replied. “Now that we are all on the same 
page, let’s get started.” 


The various men and woman, or D-class, as Morrison called them, 
began to head back to their bunks. Along the way, Patricia turned to 
look back at Morrison and Dr. Tanner. She was shocked to find the 
two of them already watching her. Morrison smiled and gave a nod 
of familiarity. 


"Humanity thanks you for your service," Dr. Tanner said, and 
injected her with small syringe... 


A brief mental image flashed across Patricia's consciousness. She 
blinked, and shook her head. Dr. Tanner and Morrison still were 
staring. Patricia quickly turned away and hurried back to her bunk. 


Day 5: 


Patricia sat in the dormitory common room at a table, along with two 
of her fellow D-Class. The first was a young man in his early 
twenties with long red hair and a mark on his left eyebrow where 
there had once been a piercing. His jumpsuit was labeled D-2960, 
he spoke with lisp, and his name was Derek. The second was a 
short, stocky woman in her late forties with dark skin, and a shaved 
head. Her name was Annette, though her jumpsuit was labeled 
D-3106, and she remained silent, nodding occasionally as if to grant 
her approval of everything. 


On the table before Patricia was a sheet of paper with a string of 
names written upon it: 


Husband: Sid, Sebastian, Sean, Dean, Derek, Rick, 
Rich, Ray, Roy, Roland, Nolan 


Son: Jeff, Jason, Jacob, Jake, Jack, Mack, Michele, 
Mitch, Morgan 
Bradly, Brice, Blake, Bobby, Robby, Ron, Tom, Tucker 


Daughter: Cecil, Cierra, Sarah, Sasha, Sandra, Sam, 
Sally, Sydney 

Kaitlyn, Katie, Kara, Lara, Lisa, Lilly, Lana, Leslie 
Diane, Anne, Anna, Alana, Alison, Elise, Erica 


Patricia chewed on the end of her pen and sighed. 


“Still having memory problems, dear?” Annette asked, looking over 
Patricia’s list. 


“| just...” Patricia sighed again, “I’ve finally got my husband’s name 
back, and am narrowing down on my son’s... but | just can’t zero in 
on my daughier...” 


She put the pen down with a defeated chuckle. 
“If she knew | forgot her name she’d never forgive me...” 


“You'll get it in time,” Annette replied. “I know you will. Besides, not 
like you have much else to do in here.” 


“Yeah...” 


Patricia frowned as she looked at her list. Her memory was like a 
half finished puzzle. She could tell what the image was, but a lot of 
the detail was still missing. She could remember how much Nolan 
loved his job, that putting smiles on the faces of children always put 
a smile on his, but drew a blank as to what his face looked like. She 
recalled how he’d call her by pet names, but couldn’t remember 
what those names were. She remembered that her son was in high 
school, but not the grade he was in. That he was a theatre techie, 
but not the most recent show he was in. She knew her daughter 
loved video games, but not her favorite one, that she was into music 
but not what her favorite band was. Patricia knew that she was a 
floor nurse, but not the name of the hospital she care gave at. 


Her head slid down to rest in her arms. There it remained for close 
to ten minutes, hiding the fact that tears were forming in her eyes. 


The door to the common room then opened, and all eyes turning to 
watch as three D-class who entered. The one at the front looked 
rather shell shocked, while the one at the back avoided all eye 


contact and heading straight to her bunk room. The group that had 
left for testing that morning had originally consisted of four 
individuals. 


“Oh shit...” Derek whispered. “Jane isn’t back... that makes three so 
far... What the hell are they doing...” 


“I’m sure they are fine, sweetie,” Annette replied. “Probably just a 
few bumps and bruises. Science can be dangerous, I’ve been told.” 


“We’re all going to die down here!” Derek returned. “You don’t 
kidnap people and force them to help you if it’s just baking soda 
volcanoes. One by one, we’re all dead.” 


All eyes in the common room were now on Derek. A guard was 
approaching to end the disturbance, but stopped when Derek held 
up a hand to indicate that he would cool it. 


“You might as well say goodbye to everyone now, because when 
your name comes up on the test list you’re gone,” Derek whispered 
and then walked off. 


Patricia watched him go with a frown, then looked over to the large 
testing schedule posted on the far wall. Her and five others were 
scheduled to participate in two days. Patricia looked back at her 
notepad. 


"Any luck so far?” A security guard asked, a warm smile on his face. 
Patricia shook her head in reply. 


"Shame," the guard said with a shrug. "Keep at it though, I'm sure 
you'll get there." 


Another image flashed through Patricia's mind and vanished. She 
cringed slightly then opened her eyes. She sighed, picked up her 
pen, and continued to work on the names. 

Day 7: 


Patricia sat in a metal folding chair in what could best be described 
as a special kind of shooting range. Along the length of the range 


were a series of ten alcoves, in six of these were D-class sitting in 
chairs. At the far end of the range, out of her sight, was a target. A 
man in a security officer’s uniform was at the other end of the range. 
Two revolvers and a set of eighteen bullets were spread on the table 
in front of them. Patricia gave a weak smile and wave to the D-class 
in the alcove in front of her, a teenage boy, around her son’s age. 


“It's going to be okay...” she said softly to him. The boy gave a 
sharp nod. "Whats your name?" 


"B-blake," he stuttered. Patrica nodded. 


"Call me Pat," she replied and then chuckled. "Heh, you know, Blake 
is my son's name." 


The boy gave a soft smile. 
"We'll be fine, okay?" Patricia continued. "Understand?" 


“Agent Wilson,” a male voice said over the intercom. “Please load 
the object with the first set of ammunition, and fire at the target.” 


Silence filled the room for a few brief minutes, and was then 
interrupted by six shots fired in slow succession. Patricia opened her 
eyes and let out an unsteady breath. The boy across the aisle was 
keeping his eyes tightly closed, and was shaking nervously. 


“Agent Wilson,” the voice called again a few minutes later. “Please 
read the imprints on the second set of ammunition, and load the 
non-anomalous revolver.” 


“Gabriel, Sarah, Theodore, Emily, Blake, and Patricia,” Agent Wilson 
called out. 


Once again the room filled with silence, followed by another six 
shots in slow succession. Patricia gasped. The boy across the range 
was crying. 


“It’s going to be okay.” Patricia mouthed through her shaking. “It’s 
going to be okay!” 


“Agent Wilson,” the intercom blared a third time. “Please read the 


imprints on the third set of ammunition, and load the object. Fire at 
the target again.” 


“Gabriel, Sarah, Theodore, Emily, Blake, and Patricia,” Agent Wilson 
called out yet again. 


Patricia and the boy locked eyes in the silence. Then the revolver 
fired. 


Bang. 

A muffled yell. 
Bang. 

A scream. 
Bang. 

A dull thud. 
Bang. 

A sharp yelp. 
Bang. 


Patricia watched as the boy across from here flew backwards, a 
large hole in his head. His chair tipped over with a loud clatter. Her 
mouth hung open. 


“Oh god...” 
Bang. 


Patricia felt like a truck had run into her shoulder, and she too was 
knocked out of her chair. While the pain was immense, she couldn't 
make a sound. Instead she stared at the ceiling, wondering what 
exactly it was that had happened. 


Before long, medical personnel were carrying her and three other D- 
class away in stretchers. Several men and woman in lab coats 
inspected the contents of the other alcoves, mixed expressions of 


regret and unease upon their faces. Blood seeped into the main 
aisle. 


"You're going to be alright," a medic said as a team carried Patricia 
away. "Just a scratch, we'll get you patched up. 


This thought lingered on Patricia's mind for awhile. She couldn't hear 
what the medics around her were saying, though it seemed 
comforting. Eventually she closed her eyes. Then began to scream 
from the pain. 


Day 13: 


Patricia finished her recovery quickly, and had been returned to the 
D-class quarters as soon as she was deemed medically fit to 
resume testing. Upon her return she found that the initial crew of 60 
was now down to 52. Annette had undergone some test that left her 
catatonic on her bunk, leaving Patricia and Derek alone at a table as 
she looked over her list of names. 


Husband: Sid, Sebastian, Sean, Dean, Derek, Rick, 
Rich, Ray, Roy, Roland, Nolan 


Son: Jeff, Jason, Jacob, Jake, Jack, Mack, Michele, 
Mitch, Morgan 
Bradly, Brice, Blake, Bobby, Robby, Ron, Tom, Tucker 


Daughter: Cecil, Cierra, Sarah, Sasha, Sandra, Sam, 
Sally, Sydney 

Kaitlyn, Katie, Kara, Lara, Lisa, Lilly, Lana, Leslie 
Diane, Anne, Anna, Alana, Alison, Elise, Erica 

Jane, Jill, Jesse, Jenifer, June, Juniper, Lilly, Lavender 
Maggie, Megan, Margaret, Melissa, Maria, Mary 
Sophie, Cindy, Candy, Lilly 


She drummed on the pad and paper with a small smile. Two down, 
one to go. 


Bang! 


The vision of the D-class boy’s head exploding from a gunshot