12/10/66: | finally have my extra security on 
the cards, hopefully they'll work wonders on 
the festive raucous kicking in! I’m always 
grateful for extra muscle around this time of 
year, even if they are a little rough around the 
edges. Secure doors being left unlocked. 
Excessive force. Grown men confused about 
the building layout. Typical stuff. They may not 
be the smartest bunch, but I'll whip them into 
shape. At least I'll try. 


12/15/66: Huge swell of people into the hotel 
today. | have business to attend to so you'll 
have to forgive a short entry for tonight. At 
least when you finally get around to reading 
this. Security still wandering around like 
headless chickens but | have a hunch we'll all 
need to step up big tonight. 


12/16/66: This isn’t right. None of this is right. 
Things have taken a turn for the worst around 
here, and I’m not talking about profit margins. 
Don’t ask how it happened. Don’t ask who the 
hell was responsible. I’m shaking just writing 
this because no one knows where we are, 
what the hell is going on or how we're going to 
get out of this. One minute it’s business as 
usual, the next all hell starts breaking loose. 
Whatever it was, | wasn’t there to see it. But 
there’s nothing out there now, nothing at all 
recognisable, and the staff | sent out to 


investigate still haven’t come back. | have 
hundreds of terrified patrons banging at my 
door and we’ve yet to establish anything 
resembling order amongst them. God help us. 
Give me strength Coraline. 


12/17/66: Somehow we've managed to get a 
grip on the situation, however bleak the 
circumstances. We’ve assembled all the 
survivors we could find in the casino, since 
outside the building is no man’s land now. One 
of our dealers, poor lad, learnt that the hard 
way when he tried to get out through the foyer. 


The silver lining is that somehow the lights and 
water still work, so there’s that, and we’ve had 
security handing out food from the cafeteria to 
those that'll take it. Definitely feels lonelier 
around here though. We still haven't taken a 
count of those left, but it’s starting to look like a 
sizeable few just didn’t make it. As for the 
survivors, a fragile peace has taken hold, but 
I’m worried about how long it'll last and terrified 
about the long run. At least | can confide that 
in here, because out there they sure as hell 
can't afford to see me break down. | need to 
stay strong. For their sakes and mine. 


12/18/66: | think my fellow employees are 
already starting to crack. | had to stop a 
colleague of five years from heading back to 
the cage and allowing the exchange of chips 
for cash, not to mention the restaurant staff 
from selling food and booze like nothing’s the 
matter. As if cash has any value at a time like 
this! | don’t know how much booze got out 
before | put a stop to it, but | do know that 
drunkenness is not a wildcard I'd like to be 
contending with given the already dire 
circumstances. I’m going to have to runa 


much tighter ship if we’re to stand any chance 
of getting through this. 


12/19/66: We've managed to track down those 
with alcohol. Too bad they’re mostly members 
of my own damn security staff. One of them 
has already managed to drink himself into a 
coma, and plenty more seem intent on 
following that example. So not only do we now 
have fewer hands on deck, but our supplies 
are dwindling by the day to boot. Coraline, | 
wonder if I’m already the only sane one left. 


12/20/66: The past couple of hours have been 
a nightmare. The fire started before anyone 
knew what was happening, and that was when 
we noticed it. Some damaged electrics had 
ignited a fireball that damn near consumed the 
lobby and us with it. It was a miracle we 
managed to get it under control, let alone stop 
it, but in the end the sprinklers and our bravest 
managed to come through. | just hope there 
aren't any more surprises headed our way, 
because our hopes and resources are 
stretched far enough as it is. But at least now 
there’s a little more per head and a half-dozen 
fewer mouths to feed. 


12/25/66: Christmas today. Even though | 
knew I’d be spending it without you, somehow 
our predicament only makes the feeling worse. 
| can only hope your fortunes are better. 


12/29/66: More trouble in Paradise. To say we 
should've rationed our food supplies better is 
an understatement, since we let a lot of good 
stuff go to waste in the chaos following the 
start of this ordeal. Fear and anger, on the 
other hand, are here in abundance. 


We took a count. There are two hundred and 


seventeen of us stuck here. | doubt we have 
enough to last us a fortnight. What should | 
do? What can | do? 


| wish you were here. 
01/01/67: The hungry are turning violent. 


There’s practically a mob forming in the Poker 
Hall and they seem intent on claiming the 
scraps we have left one way or another. That 
and lashing out at anything or anyone they can 
get their hands on. The patrons. The security. 
The dealers. Me. We all want answers. We all 
want solutions. The difference is that I’m 
expected to deliver. Not to mention that we’re 
still no closer to figuring out what on earth 
started this mess. The phones are useless. 
We can’t get a radio signal. We're cut off. 


Yet still, fixing this mess is my duty. Why else 
am | here, separate from you? No matter the 
odds, | have to try. 


01/05/67: I’ve tasked the few workers who'll 
still obey with keeping those who have kept 
order safe, but the rest have all turned on us 
by now. My hands are tied. The Assistant 
Floor Manager has a dozen or so survivors 
holed up in the smoking room, convinced that 
escape is their only option. They’re close to 
jumping ship. Maybe they already have. Duty 
continues to call, but I’m finding it difficult to 
answer. 


I’m spending more and more time holed up in 
this office alone. Out there, violence is 
becoming more and more common, so it 
seems like a smart enough move for now. But 
the hunger is only getting worse. 


Interviewer: Please continue. Who appeared? 
[Subject appears to be fighting back tears.] 


Janice Erickson: The corpse from before. Staring at me. He was 
with my sister. She didn't look hurt, but there was something off 
about her. | was sure she was dead. And then they started talking to 
me. 


Interviewer: What did they say? 


Janice Erickson: They said I'd made it to the other side, that | only 
needed to take another step and then I'd know everything. My sister 
kept repeating something. - "God looks on the heart." "God looks on 
the heart." Then | felt like | was hallucinating or dreaming and they 
kept disappearing, coming back, saying the same things. Then | 
kept seeing the corpse-man from before staring and then laughing. 
Saying "You don't mean anything, this doesn't mean anything, you 
are going to die and nothing you are will matter." Then | saw him 
with Carla, and Carla looked half-rotted. He was back to saying what 
he was saying before, how | only needed to take another step and 
I'd know everything, and trying to promise me something but | 
couldn't make out what over the thumping and screaming which kept 
getting louder and louder. Carla didn't say anything, just looked at 
me with a blank face. She started mouthing something as the room 
got redder and redder. I'm bad at reading lips but eventually | figured 
out she was trying to say "It wants the foundation. Don't let them 
feed it." | don't - 


Interviewer: Wait. Repeat your last sentence. 


Janice Erickson: Carla was mouthing "It wants the foundation. 
Don't let them feed it." 


Interviewer: Do you know what she meant by that? 


Janice Erickson: | have no idea what any of them meant by any of 
that. Why? 


Interviewer: Disregard that. Proceed. 


Janice Erickson: Okay. Well, after that | managed to make myself 


01/06/67: I’m writing this to try and dull the 
nagging pain in my stomach, and keep some 
spark of hope going in the darkness outside. 
More and more are abandoning the casino in 
favour of whatever lies out there, but | don’t 
blame them. The people still here are 
changing, driven mad by panic, hunger and 
desperation. | haven’t eaten in days, and even 
though | hate to admit it, even I’m struggling to 
keep a level head and a clear mind. 


And so this is starting to look more and more 
like the end. Coraline, you seem so impossibly 
far away. 


01/10/67: My hunger continues to grow, but 
some have found a solution to theirs. Dozens 
missing. Dozens dead. But | suppose | 
should've expected this. They came here to 
gamble, and gamble they will, whatever the 
odds. To eat or be eaten, all down to a roll of 
the dice. | can only refuse, keep my dignity for 
whatever it’s worth. For now I’m still safe in my 
office. It’s preferable to the destruction and 
depravity that lies beyond. 


| can hear them, even now. The rolling of dice. 
The spin of the roulette wheel. The inevitable 
screams and whoops of crazed mania that 
follow. Then, at last, silence until the next 
round. 


What happens when they need new suckers 
for their little game? 


01/12/67: My luck has run out and it appears 
my time is up. They’re at my door now, and in 
a few short moments they'll be upon me, so 
I’m writing now for anyone who'll listen. To 
preserve what happened here. To ask why. 


Know that | tried. Tried to hold things together. 
Tried to do my duty. Tried for the people that 
matter most. It was only the promise of a 
better future that brought me here, and even if 
| can never share that with those | love, | can 
share this message of regret with you. Tell 
Coraline I’m sorry. 


Footnotes 
1. The landing site of NASA’s Apollo 12 mission 


SCP-3656: Governments in Exile 


Item #: SCP-3656 
Object Class: Neutralised 


Special Containment Procedures: The area previously containing 
SCP-3656 is surrounded by a chain-link fence and monitored by 
CCTV. Signage is to denote the area as containing hazardous 
chemical waste to deter civilian intrusion. If it is necessary for staff to 
enter the area, appropriate protective gear is required and use of 
personal dosimeters and Geiger counters is advised. 


Description: SCP-3656 is a 5.5 km field, formerly Site-70 and the 
greater part of the suburb of , in outer Chicago, Illinois. It is 
contaminated by high levels of radioactive isotopes, mostly 
strontium-90 and caesium-137. The average radiation across the 
area is approximately 50 kBq/m2. 


SCP-3656 demonstrates no current anomalous effects. 


Archived File - 04/07/16 


Item #: SCP-3656 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: One Foundation staff member 
(Representative A-1) has been designated the primary point of 
contact with SCP-3656. On the 4th day of each month at 9am 
(UTC-6:00), this staff member is to lead a team into SCP-3656 and 
document the proceedings. All events within SCP-3656 should be 
audio recorded and transcribed. Overt video and photographic 
recording is prohibited as its use causes entities within SCP-3656 to 
react with suspicion. Clandestine recording requires Level 4 staff 


approval. 


All staff entering SCP-3656 should be of Iranian ethnicity, fluent in 
Farsi and with comprehensive knowledge of Iranian culture and 
history, particularly of the Safavid dynasty (1501-1736). 
Representative A-1 should be a Level 3 staff member with 
experience in public policy, international law and diplomatic 
negotiation. Staff within SCP-3656 are to identify themselves as 
representatives of the “Sublime State of Iran in Exile” (Group-A), a 
group known to SCP-3656 entities prior to Foundation involvement. 
Appropriate documents and identification have been prepared for 
this purpose, and no materiel with Foundation information or insignia 
is to enter SCP-3656. Staff are advised not to consume any items 
within SCP-3656. 


Personnel who enter SCP-3656 require an additional briefing and 
memetic resistance screening conducted by the SCP-2155 research 
team. All documents making detailed reference to Group-H should 
be considered a memetic hazard and quarantined until their 
anomalous status can be determined. 


Description: SCP-3656 is a room in the basement of the house at 
50 Adams St., , Chicago, Illinois. The address was formerly the 
residence of Mr Ali Mirzakhani, a businessman and member of the 
Iranian community in Chicago. Since its acquisition by the 
Foundation in 2006, the building was given the designation Site-70, 
which eventually acquired both neighbouring houses to 
accommodate personnel and research materiel. 


On the 4th day of each month, when an individual enters SCP-3656 
and closes the door behind them, an SCP-3656 event will occur, 
where SCP-3656 will take on the appearance of a conference room 
with a central table and seating for 40 people. A door also appears 
on the opposite side of the room to the entrance, through which 
entities enter and exit. Exploration attempts beyond this have met 
resistance from SCP-3656 entities. While an event is in progress, 
establishing outside communication or access has been 
unsuccessful, and GPS tracking devices lose signal. 


Between 20 and 40 humanoid entities will be present in SCP-3656, 
several with anomalous features. All identify themselves as 


representatives of groups belonging to the “Displaced Governments 
Cooperation Organisation”, or DGCO (SCP-3656-1). SCP-3656-1 
appears to be a supranational organisation with the aim of 
promoting diplomatic, cultural and economic cooperation. Its 
member groups describe themselves as governments which have 
lost control over most or all of their claimed national territory. 
Despite these circumstances, they claim to possess considerable 
financial and military resources, with access to both conventional 
and anomalous weaponry. The entities within SCP-3656 frequently 
refer to locations, individuals and events for which no evidence has 
been found in baseline reality. 


Thus far, 8 groups have been identified in SCP-3656. 


Group-A (Foundation staff only) - "The Sublime State of Iran in 
Exile" 


¢ A US-based Iranian diaspora organisation dedicated to the 
return of Shahanshah “Abbas V Safavi’, pretender to the 
lranian throne and head of the Safavid royal household. ! 
Information on the history and structure of Group-A has been 
compiled from a mixture of historical modelling and context 
clues from SCP-3656 entities, which can be found in 
Document 3656-A-Prime. Staff entering SCP-3656 should 
familiarise themselves with this document and exercise care 
to ensure that statements relating to Group-A align with the 
existing knowledge of SCP-3656 entities. 


Group-B - “The Everlasting Tsardom of Russia" 


¢ An organisation dedicated to the return of the House of 
Romanov to the Russian throne. Unlike existing Russian 
monarchist organisations, Group-B refers to “Tsaritsa 
Alexandra |” as the current pretender. The representative from 
Group-B appears to be a human cadaver in an advanced 
stage of decay, transported in a wheelchair by human 
assistants. This has never been observed to exhibit 
anomalous properties, but its attendants translate statements 
on its behalf. It is unknown whether this entity is able to 
communicate with them or it is a non-anomalous cadaver 
towards which its attendants act in a ritualised manner. 


Group-C - “The Friends of the Doge” 


¢ Asociety claiming to represent the Republic of Venice and 
Venetian nationalism. It derives the majority of its resources 
from “Contarini-Morosini Incorporated”, a multinational 
corporation based in Durrazo3, with business relating to 
shipping, armaments, textiles, glasswares, precious metals 
and financial services. This corporation is claimed by Group-C 
to have a market capitalisation of over 80 billion "New 
Standard US Dollars" (NSUSD4), and to have controlling 
stakes in [REDACTED]. Group-C entities speak both 
Venetian and archaic Italian.