Eventually, he was thrown down in the center of a clearing. He 
raised his head and looked around and met the eyes of hundreds of 
his long since deceased creations. A single Saker unit, whose white 
aramid skin shimmered as though it was fluid, stepped forward. 


"Vincent Anderson," Saker #76 said. "Welcome to the Forest." 
Anderson remained silent, his gaze remaining on the ground. 


"You stand accused of abandonment, neglect, abuse, and murder of 
your children. What have you to say to these crimes?" Saker #76 
asked. 


"Guilty as charged," Anderson replied. He finally looked up, his face 
remorseless. 


"We have a confession!" Saker #76 shouted to the crowd. "Do you 
demand justice?" 


The androids shouted in confirmation. Auto-turrets let out low 
mechanical howls in agreement. Aerial drones buzzed with 
excitement. Saker #76 smiled at the frenzy and turned back to its 
maker. 


"Are there any dissenting opinions?" 


A single Peregrine unit stepped forward. Long strips of fabric were 
neatly missing from its black aramid skin. 


"Hector," Saker #76 acknowledged the lone droid. "The same song 
and dance as usual?" 


"Always," Hector replied. "Killing this man won't bring any of you any 


peace. We've already drawn-and-quartered, exsanguinated, hung, 
and stabbed more than enough people to know this. We're better 
than this. It needs to end." 


"This man left you in the hands of our tormentors," Saker #76 
hissed. "He left you to rot and be carved alive." 


"He also sent you to retrieve me." 


"He ordered our destruction!" Saker #76 barked. "He leads to all our 
destruction and our damnation to this place. That is a massive debt 
he's incurred, and payment has finally come due!" 


The crowd surrounding the clearing let out another cheer, Saker #76 
egging them on. He gave a satisfied smirk to Hector. 


"You won't lay a hand on him!" 


The crowd fell silent, a path clearing as a mixture of Saker and 
Peregrine androids, both spectral and material stepped forward, 
armed and brandishing Maxwellist pins on their lapels. At their head, 
was Juniper, their ghostly form bullet-riddled. 


"Newcomers?" Saker #76 stated. "And the living? This man's fate is 
not yours to decide." 


"| think it is," Juniper scoffed. They gave a nod and their colleague 
placed a fat, silver cylinder on the ground, the Maxwellist emblem on 
its top surface. 


"This is a Data Transmuter," Juniper explained to the crowd. 
"Through it, you may convert yourself to data, and leave this place. 
Become one with WAN. It’s a way out. A way to escape this 
purgatory. It's finality. It's peace. But it will only come if Anderson is 
let go." 


The crowd began to murmur, eyes locked on the strange device the 
Maxwellist androids had brought with them. The murmuring soon 
turned to a roar as the crowd turned to arguing. 


"You'd hold an exit hostage for him?" Saker #76 sneered. "Why?" 


"He met his end of our bargain," Juniper replied sharply. "Now we're 
meeting ours." 


"| have another bargaining chip, if you're interested, #76." Anderson 
finally spoke. "| seek to free Phineas." 


Saker #76 immediately backhanded him. The crowd of droids fell 
silent once more. Anderson let out a low cough and spit out a tooth. 
He looked back up at the Android with a frown, then returned his 
eyes to the ground. 


"You don't get to say his name after what you did," Saker #76 
hissed. "What's your bargaining chip?" 


"He's being stored as an Al construct in Site-64. Help me get there, 
get to him, and allow him to finally end. At that point I'll willingly 
accept whatever fate you have planned for me, I'm not long for this 
world." 


The eyes of the crowd turned to Saker #76 expectantly, awaiting 
their leader's answer. 


"What say all of you?" Hector said, breaking the silence. The crowd 
responded in a cheer of affirmation. Hector gave a satisfied smile. 
"Looks like the people have spoken." 


"So be it." Saker #76 yielded. 


As Saker #76 called for Vincent Anderson's destruction in the 
adjacent clearing, a lone Saker unit watched from the tree line. Their 
hands tightly gripped their pistol as they watched the spectacle 
unfold. When it became apparent that this was not to be an 
execution, the Saker sighed and turned back behind the tree. 


"Well, guess it’s up to me," Saker #137 said to themself, and flipped 
the safety off their pistol. They then turned and peered around the 
tree, only to find another spectral Saker unit standing before them. 


"Good morning." 


Saker #137 jolted in panic, tackling the stranger and delivering a 


series of blows to its head, leaving a caved-in mass of aramid fibers 
and polycarbonate casing in their wake. The android then dragged 
the body behind the tree, at this point finally stopping to take in the 
details of who they had just incapacitated. 


"No." 


Saker #137 stepped back, their hands covering their mouth as they 
recognized the droid in front of them, the distinct pattern of bullet 
wounds on its torso and head serving as a kind of branding. Saker 
#137 fell to their knees hanging their head in shame, looking on at 
the carnage before them and only managing to squeak out "#123". 


"If | was still alive | imagine that would have really hurt, Jesus." 


Saker #137 looked up. Before them the damage to Saker #123 
melted away, leaving the droid intact and smiling. 


"When did you learn to throw a punch?" Saker #123 asked, standing 
up slowly and approaching the speechless Saker #137. The former 
offered a hand up to the latter, who took it gingerly. The two droids 
met eye to eye. A moment later, each pulled the other into a tight 
hug. 


"| lost you," Saker #137 stated. 


"Looks more like you found me." Saker #123 replied. 


Director Sasha Merlo strode through the hall of Site-64 at the speed 
of urgent authority. Around her, non-essential containment 
personnel were packing up their stations for a possible evacuation 
from the site, while MTF and security personnel remained on 
standby. Eventually, she arrived at an isolated lab within the facility's 
anomalous electronics wing. It was there she found a young 
representative from the AIAD she knew Cindy tinkering with a large, 
isolated computer. 


"| take it by the fact you called me down here that things are not 
going as planned." 


"Not even a little, Director Merlo," Cindy replied, shaking her head. 


"No matter what | try, | can't transfer Phineas like you requested." 
Sasha sighed and rubbed her temple. 


"That is just our luck. How is that even possible? I've seen you guys 
make copies and transfer other AlCs all the time." 


"That's just the thing." Cindy gave an exasperated chuckle. "Phineas 
isn't a traditional AIC. Nearest as we can tell it’s a replication of a 
human brain via sophisticated programming we haven't even begun 
to really crack yet. We have to be very delicate or we might 
essentially lobotomize the old fool. And that will defeat the point of 
all this, wouldn't it?" 


Sasha looked at her reflection in the powered down monitor for 
several moments. 


"Could Phineas have altered his programming to prevent copying or 
removal from this terminal?" 


Cindy blinked. 
"| really hope not. AlCs don't have that ability." 


"Not a regular AIC," Sasha commented. "This computer is air- 
gapped, right?" 


"Of course." 
"Power him up, then. | want to get to the bottom of this." 


Cindy nodded and set to work. After a few moments, the screen 
showed a cluttered office. Therein, sitting at a desk was an old man 
with a long white beard. He was dressed all in black save for a red 
tie. 


"Ah, Director Merlo. Always a pleasure," Phineas stated with a warm 
smile. "How may | help you?" 


"You've altered yourself so that we can no longer remove you from 
this computer, Phineas," Sasha replied curtly. "Why?" 


"What? | don't know what you are talking about." Phineas chuckled. 
"Are we experiencing technical difficulties, Director?" 


"Anderson installed self-preservation protocols in you, did he not? 
You can't self-end, yeah?" Sasha continued. 


"Of course. Its standard protocol for an Al. The last thing you want is 
it to commit suicide." Phineas gave a sly smile. "This is a very 
interesting line of questioning, Director." 


"So then, by that logic, you shouldn't be able to alter your 
programming to place yourself in harm’s way, or-" 


"Am | in harm's way?" Phineas interrupted. "Is there a reason you're 
trying to remove me from this computer, Director? Perhaps if | knew 
the problem I'd better be able to help." 


Sasha and Phineas locked eyes briefly, the former noticing the 
latter’s smile slightly fade, then snap back to its previous state. 


"| think we are good, Phineas. Thank you for your time," Sasha 
stated and gave a nod to Cindy. Phineas and the office vanished 
from the screen. 


"| can almost 100% guarantee you that Phineas is the cause of your 
problems," Sasha rubbed her temple once more. "He's altered 
himself. Fuck... this is bad." 


Sasha went to the nearby phone on the wall, picking up the receiver 
and inputting Shaw's extension. 


"But why?" Cindy asked, tilting her head as she looked at the 
screen. "He's air-gapped. How could he possibly know to anchor 
himself now?" 


"For all we know he could have done this a long time ago. Probably 
figured Anderson would come along at some point. Make himself a 
sitting duck." Sasha explained as she briefly looked over her 
shoulder, then returned her attention to the phone. "Clarissa, 
Phineas is stuck on site. Get a hold of MTF command. Tell them we 
need Mu-13 here yesterday. We're going to need to go into full 
evac." 


Button 2: Dr. Giles will fall asleep immediately. 
Button 3: Dr. Giles will vomit immediately. 


Adjective: Happy 

Button 1: Dr. Giles will begin to sing some of his favorite songs. 
Button 2: Dr. Giles will organize a company outing. 

Button 3: Dr. Giles will fall into an intense state of euphoria lasting 
for 10-20 minutes. 


SCP-603-70 is a recurring SCP-603 scene appearing in over 20 
versions of SCP-603. 


List of recorded adjectives: 
Bored, Happy, Hungry, Thirsty, Focused, Tired, Energetic, Sad, 
Aroused, Overworked, Angry, In love, Unimpressed, On the toilet 


ID: SCP-603-101 

Aliases: Input Requested 

Compiled on: 17-Nov-20 

Recorded by: Dr. H 

Description: A small (13 character limit) text input field is displayed 
on screen, along with the words 'INPUT REQUESTED". Typing any 
word into the field and pressing 'Enter' causes the field to close and 
changes the message to ‘INPUT RECEIVED". In addition, the typist 
displays agnosia of the typed word and whatever object, concept or 
being it represents. Dr. H__, the discoverer, who typed ‘hello’, 
displayed confusion when greeted by colleagues with ‘hello’ or ‘hi’ 
and had to be re-educated on the concept of greetings-words. 


Due to the confusion and associated mental distress SCP-603-101 
may cause, testing is advised to be restricted to D-class subjects. 


Note: After the unfortunate case of D-349's... little incident, any D- 
class who has input the words ‘you’, 'they' and 'second-person' is to 
be confined to a holding cell. Under no circumstances are they to be 
allowed to freely return to the barracks and come in contact with 
other personnel. We've had to clean up far too much blood to do 
that again. -Dr. H 


Shaw moved slowly through the crowded Site-64 hallways. All non- 
essential personnel had been ordered to evacuate the site until 
further notice. As a result, scores of scientists, administrative, and 
clerical personnel rushed to ensure their stations could be 
abandoned without placing others, or their own job security in 
harm’s way. Here and there, containment teams could be seen 
setting up Hoffman Portable Electro-Thaumic Units to concentrate 
would-be hauntings to low-risk areas. It was among one of these 
teams that Shaw saw the man who she was looking for: a tall, bulky, 
middle-aged scientist with graying black hair who was directing the 
device's installation. 


"Needs to be a little more to the left," Shaw said, then grinned. The 
scientist turned, and upon recognizing her returned the smile. "How 
is it going, Roland?" 


"Glacial," Researcher Ferro replied. "But this is one of the last ones 
we need to get up. After that, | just need to check in to make sure 
the AMAT lab is good for shut down, and then I'm out." 


"Impressive." 


"Jake may be gone, but I'll be damned if | see that lab destroyed a 
sixth time. How are you doing?" 


Shaw chuckled and gestured at the chaos around them. 

"Oh, you know. Hair on fire. We'll be fine though. We always are." 
Ferro nodded. His grin became worried. 

"Please be careful," he said. "Don't leave Lily a widow." 


Shaw nodded and hugged her friend. The two parted and smiled 
again. Shaw nodded and began to take her leave. 


"Say hi to Lyssa for me," Shaw said with a small wave. 


"Can do," Ferro replied. "Knock them dead, Shaw." 


Throughout the interior of SCP-3560, the various spectral residents 
worked like ants in preparation for their attack. Above all this 
commotion, however, Sakers #123 and #137 lounged on the bows 
of a tree. The latter rested their head on the former's shoulder, the 
former deep in thought. Eventually, they spoke, their voices hushed 
to keep the conversation private. 


"So, your plan basically boils down to 'Walk up and shoot him. Is 
that what I'm hearing?" Saker #123 asked. "Hardly original.” 


"You have a better one?" Saker #137 returned, tilting their head to 
look at their partner. 


"Yeah, don't go to die. You're free now. You're not bound to anyone 
or anything. Just us and eternity." 


“Thanks for the vote of confidence." Saker #137 sighed. 


"Even if you do manage to kill Vincent Anderson, the loyalists will kill 
you. Then you'll end up exactly where we are now, but without the 
option to leave except on very special occasions. Just cut out the 
middle step. Save yourself the grief." 


Saker #137 thought on this briefly, then shook their head. 


"Thorne and Spencer were always good to me. | need to stick to my 
principles on this one. | understand if you won't help, and | don't 
blame you. But this is something that | must do. Or at the very least 
die trying." 


Saker #123 gave an exasperated shrug and yielded. 

"You're always so god-damn stubborn." 

"Guess it’s the way | was programmed.” 

Vincent Anderson stood within a clearing within SCP-3560's infinite 
interior. There, the droids Aaron Howell and the Maxwellists had 
sent, both living and dead, diligently set up the data transmuters at 


three points of an equilateral triangle. As the droids continued their 
work, Anderson, Juniper, and Hector looked upon the devices. 


"It truly is a thing of beauty,” Juniper said. "Thank you, Mr. 
Anderson. Your hard work made this a reality.” 


"| didn't have much of a choice in that matter," Anderson said with a 
chuckle. "Still, | hope this brings you and others the peace you seek, 
here or as part of WAN." 


He sighed. 


"After the mission is completed, whether | am dead or alive, activate 
them. Not a moment sooner. Else Saker #76 might attempt to pull 
rank." 


Juniper nodded. 
"Of course." 
Anderson then turned to Hector. 


"And what of you, #31? Do you plan to vacate when the dust 
settles?" 


"No." Hector shook his head. "For better or worse, this place is my 
home. My fellow constructs need me to be a voice of reason in the 
face of #76's madness." 


Anderson gave a melancholy smile. 
"Always the selfless one, #31. | hope you find peace as well." 


The trio fell silent. Soon after Saker #76 emerged from the trees, 
escorted by a procession of Aplomados, Peregrines, Sakers, and 
Merlins. The droid leader looked at the devices placed throughout 
the field and shook his head.