| was delighted to find out my country house was still in one piece. 
Of course, it’s become a little lopsided - there was mold growing in 
some corners - but otherwise, it was just as I'd left it. | see, during all 
these years none of you had the brilliant idea of going down into its 
basement. It made me happy, as it meant the secret bunker 
remained untouched. Much has changed, __ - some Sites have 
disappeared, others have been built. But there are things that never 
change, while the Foundation that I’ve created still stands. One of 
those things is in that bunker. 


| once said we'd never return into that long night from whence we 
came. I’ve drawn a protective circle on the ground, reinforced it with 
walls and locked it with the sign of the Trinity. And yet all we’ve 
accomplished during these years hasn't made us better. There’s still 
the same cold freezing our backs and the same heat burning our 
faces. The same world unsaved. Someone has to break the vicious 
circle. 


When you read this, | will have reached my goal. Maybe you're 
already standing at the brink of a new world and your eyes are 
opening. All humanity is rubbing their eyelids after their long 
slumber. It was the slumber of self-assurance and deep narcissism. 
We believed we could name things and decide if they deserve a 
place in the Universe. We decided we knew the laws of nature and 
we could consider the creatures we couldn’t understand unnatural. 
And, most importantly, we thought we were the last thing keeping 
the world from crashing down, as if it couldn’t exist without us, as if 
the sun wouldn’t come up without us. Because of this, we raged a 
bloody war against something we don’t even have a name for. But 
now, __, you’re going to see that our main enemy is our own fear. 
You'll see that the Foundation wasn't really necessary in the first 
place, and after its doors burst open, the world will find a way to 
obtain a new balance, because God would never have created a 
stone He could not lift. 


Remember - the panther is leaping infinitely. It always tries to reach 
and never does. 


Forever yours, 


Unstable Thoughts 


It's so cold. This place has always been so cold and dark. Well, not 
so dark, but it doesn't count for me. I've been here for a long time, 
and it's so boring. | mostly spend my days walking around. 
Sometimes | sit and | try to think, but it's so hard now. | have 
shattered memories about the me before the current "me". | can 
barely remember people | loved when | was younger, but not their 
names or even their faces. | can see myself running, and playing, 
and getting hurt, and crying. | can remember a man who came one 
day to my... home? Did | ever have a home before? Nevermind. 


Why is it so cold here? 


He's the one | can remember well, I'll never forget it, not even now. 
He was tall and thin, with a huge mustache that it looked almost like 
a smile, but he didn't look happy at all. He said something to me and 
the other people around me. | can't recall what he said exactly, but 
we followed him. | can't remember anything but dust, and smoke 
and that red thing from that moment till my last memory being the 
old "me". 


| raise my hand. | can see my bones through my flesh. 


| was in a... thing that goes underwater? What was the word? Su... 
Sub-mah-reeen? Anyways, | was with others in it, travelling through 
the sea. | always liked the sea, even now. Water everywhere. We 
were taking a thing to a special place. They told me it was a weapon 
to defeat our enemies. | thought it was rather funny. Basically a big, 
white ball with strange symbols. | used to know what the symbols 
meant, but now | don't care anymore. You forget what you don't use, 
after all. | always think about the time | spent in that thing. | don't 
want forget, but one day | will. 


! can hear sounds through the walls. They keep building it thicker. 


We reached a place where water and ice met. At least, that's what 


they told me. | couldn't see too much from inside of the submahreen. 
Another day, and nothing to do. Red alarms and screams from 
machines started, breaking the calm. everybody was running 
through small passages, as was |. They saw other things get close 
to us. Everybody prepared themselves for battle, looking at glowing 
screens and checking our weapons. | went to my position and 
started to to check my own screen for enemies. | saw. There were 
two small points getting closer to us. A thing started to talk through a 
speak-machine ordering the enemies to retreat. | looked at my 
screen again. | saw a shiny thing going from one of the shiny points 
directly to me. | screamed at the things to prepare for the impact, 
and immediately after a big sound filled the place. It was followed by 
the water, which was really cold. | ran fast to avoid seeing the other 
things going down. | went directly to the ball. | looked at it 
desperately. | remember the pain in my ears. Something tried to talk 
to me, but | couldn't hear what it said. | remember the fear. Those 
things and | were going to die. | turned my head and | saw the 
weapon one last time, and for a second, | saw it glow. Another 
explosion. This time it caught too close. The pain and fear vanished 
from my boiling mind, and darkness surrounded me. 


Raw meat again. | miss the cooked one. | touch it for a moment. | 
like meat well cooked. 


| suddenly woke up floating in the sea. | inmediately felt the cold 
water around my body and trying to go land. It was strange, | could 
see shattered pieces of metal and gore. The sea was no longer 
blue, but red and for some reason, green around me. | realized that 
the land was too far, so | tried to swim to the closest trash. | felt 
scared again, but it was weird. It was like being scared by the first 
time. When | reached the place | realized something new about 
myself. | was glowing, in a shiny green, and my bones were visible, 
but | was otherwise unharmed. | thought for the first time again, 
trying to think how this happened, but | felt my head was running 
slowly. | floated a big chunk of black metal and waited. | see one 
thing floating close to me, and its reddy face kept its last scream. | 
don't know what to do. | got angry, screaming as hard as possible, 
and anything listened to me. In that moment | felt my second 
emotion: Hate. For my enemies, the things that destroyed this and 
made me feel cold, and angry, and hungry. There was nothing to do, 


so | waited and waited. 


My enemies came today. | tried to kill them, but they attacked me 
with cold guns, and | felt fear. 


| think | was dying. No food, no water and alone. | tried to drink, but 
it was awful. | don't know how much time, but | was dying. The 
glowing always present, and is hard to sleep when your... your skin 
is invisible. One day, | suddenly woke up, and | was inside of a 
room. | don't know how | got there, but | forgot everything when | 
saw food. | ran, and | ate for the first time as fast as possible. | 
realized something new when it burned in my mouth, but | didn't 
care, and | kept eating and drinking like an animal. When | finished, | 
tried to inspect the place | was. No windows, made of metal. | don't 
know what happened to me then. | just remember angry and hate 
again, so much hate. And things dying, and a lot of red. Then | wake 
up, and I'm here, and I've been here since that. They are my 
enemies, and | hate them. | kill them everytime | can, but they make 
me feel cold. | hate cold. Always so cold. 


They always watch me, but | can watch them too. 


| stop remember. They are watching me. | can feel it. Something is 
starting to change inside me. | stand up and turn to the camera over 
me. | try to watch them through the eye over my cage, but it's 
impossible. | keep trying and trying. My mind starts to run again, 
faster and faster, And then | slowly start to see through the camera, 
and cables, until | reach to a new room. | watch them, and they 
realize that something is close. My mind is clear, my memories 
suddenly come back, all at once. | remember everything again. It 
feels so refreshing, but | still watch them. | hate them, but now my 
hate has a reason. | try to reach them. | "touch" one of them, and 
she starts bleeding, and then falls to the ground. Suddenly, a lot of 
forgotten feelings come right at my face. | return to my cage and | 
think while | still can. What am I? Am | a monster? | don't want to be 
a stupid freak within a cold cage forever. | felt in despair. | can feel 
my mind shutting down again, losing thoughts and memories again, 
falling into the darkness again. | passed out, and my last coherent 
thought crossed my mind like a bullet. 


| just want to die. 


Why's it so cold? This place has always been so cold and dark, well, 
not so dark, but it don't count for me. It's so boring. | can just walk 
around or sit and remember. There so few to remember now. | can 
remember things | loved, but not their colors, or form, or what they 
were, but | remember that | loved. | remember myself running, and 
playing, and hurting, and crying. But the only thing | can remember 
well is this feel. | want to die, | hate here, and they, and me, and 
food, and cold, and glowing, and bones. | hate everything. They 
come again today, but it's different. They have guns. | stand up, but | 
don't attack them, not anymore. They see me. They look funny with 
weird white dresses and hats. | cant see their faces, but | don't care. 
They prepare, and for a moment, a tiny little moment. | feel 
something that | have never felt here. 


Thank you. 


Due to gross negligence, a decommission order was 
enacted a / /2009 following the incident reported in 
addendum. SCP-019 was terminated without incident. 
Remains showed no anomalous effects, and were 
disposed of by incineration. 


SCP-985: Lost Luggage Claim 


Item #: SCP-985 


Object Class: Euclid, pending reclassification to Safe 
reclassification denied, see Addendum 985-003 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-985 is to be kept under 
video surveillance at all times. Live-feed cameras are to be placed in 
all three sections of SCP-985's housing, and the feeds are to be 
under observation by at least one Foundation employee at all times. 
In the event that observation fails for any period of time, on-site 
reserve personnel are to be activated, and the area is to be placed 
under lockdown until containment of SCP-985 and any items 
produced by the SCP is reestablished. 


Description: SCP-985 is a conveyor baggage claim, located within 
Terminal of the [REDACTED] International Airport. According to 
construction records, SCP-985 was installed at the same time as all 
other baggage claims in that terminal, and reviews of maintenance 
reports has failed to produce any leads regarding the unusual 
properties exhibited by SCP-985. While all sections are kept under 
observation, SCP-985 operates indistinguishably from any other 
baggage claim in the terminal, and the amount of electricity drawn 
by the machine remains relatively constant. 


Should one of the three sections of SCP-985 (runway access, 
conveyor system, or terminal access) cease to be observed, the 
machine's electrical draw begins to fluctuate rapidly, though no 
correlation has been determined between these fluctuations and the 
machine's other effects. At this point, various items of luggage will 
begin to enter the observed portions of the machine, said items 
having no apparent point of entry. These items are of varying shape 
and size, and in some cases do not correspond to modern security 
requirements for luggage taken aboard airplanes. Said items will 
continue along the conveyor along with the original contents of the 
conveyor until they are either taken from the line or reenter an 


Unstylish, Watery Blue 


They first sooke when Anselman came out of his disciplinary 
hearing. They had seen each other before that, glances stolen in 
cafeterias and hallways, looks uncompleted, conversations not 
started. They had passed like parallel lines before this, and more 
than he was angry about his conduct slip, about his emotional 
outburst, Anselman was upset that they had to speak for the first 
time now, like this. 


Lavoie was waiting for him, fine blond hair, watery blue eyes, white 
hot anger. “You really fucked with her, you know?” 


Anselman bristled, brown eyes flickering behind unstylish glasses. 
He didn't want them to meet like this. “I just got chewed out in there. 
| don’t need more here.” 


“She’s my patient, she—” 
“It. It's an it, not a she. It’s not your patient.” 
Lavoie stepped back, narrow eyes, buck teeth. “You had no right.” 


“None of us has a right.” Anselman hunched, a big man feeling very 
small. He had done wrong, he had allowed weakness, he hated 
himself. “I didn’t mean to fuck anything up. I’m sorry.” 


“You ought to be transferred.” 


“They can’t. The lemon doesn’t trust anyone else. I’ve tried to get it 
away from me, but.” 


“So what are you supposed to do?” 
“My job.” 


Lavoie rolled his watery blue eyes, turned on his long legs. The 
hallway was empty as he walked away, his leather shoes making a 


soft echoing squeak like a dying mouse as he left Anselman behind. 


They didn’t speak again for two weeks. They had no reason to, they 
were assigned to different projects, they had different disciplines. 
They passed each other once on the way to their respective children 
and once on the way back, and they looked at each other, unstylish 
glasses and watery blue eyes, and they tried to figure out how the 
other one worked. 


Lavoie confronted him outside of the dormitory snack machines, 
because of course he did. Psychiatrists were very good at 
confronting. It was late, they were both in pajamas, Anselman was 
clutching two Snickers bars. 


Lavoie approached him and said, without preamble, “Why do you 
hate them?” 


Anselman tried to find a witty retort, but he was too distracted by 
Lavoie’s matching pajamas, button down and sky blue and white 
slippers. Who dressed like that? “Who?” 


“The SCPs. The human ones.” 


Anselman blinked, slow. He didn’t wear matching pajamas. His 
pajamas were plaid flannel pants and a dirty ‘Where’s the Beef?’ t- 
shirt. “I don’t hate them.” 


“Yes you do. | saw the 2118 tapes, | saw how you put 3424 ina 
locker. Why would you put them through that if you didn’t hate 
them? Your pain—” 


“My pain,” Anselman snarled, smacking Lavoie in the chest with a 
Snickers so hard he stumbled back, “is my pain alone. No one here 
knows—” 


Lavoie barked a laugh, rubbed his chest where the chocolate had hit 
it. “Everyone here knows. Everyone here has felt your pain, or some 
version of it; it's basically required if you want to work here. It feels 
special to you, but it’s not special. No one's pain in the Foundation is 
special.” 


Anselman wanted to yell, but he settled for flinging a candy bar at 
Lavoie and storming back to his room. He slammed the door and it 
didn’t reverberate, which he resented. If he had stayed, he would 
have seen Lavoie stare after him, head cocked to the side like a 
golden retriever, blond hair, watery eyes. He would have seen 
Lavoie eat the candy bar. 


Two more weeks passed. They didn’t look at each other in the 
hallway anymore. 


They didn’t see each other again, really see each other, until they 
really saw each other in the snack machine alcove, late at night. 
This time, Lavoie was getting something—a Nature’s Valley granola 
bar. The hard kind that turned to dust when you unwrapped it but 
still managed to break your teeth. 


Anselman had seen the figure down the hallway, but when he saw 
who it was, he stopped short, snack tokens held tight in his sweating 
hand. Lavoie looked at him like a raccoon caught in a motion sensor 
light. They were both still, afraid to blink, like two cryptids catching 
sight of each other in the woods.