Sometimes there's no memory. But it's not like sleeping. 
They take us somewhere or tell us to go somewhere and 
there's bright light and then nothing and then we're back 
and we know new things but we weren't taught. Then 
They make us use what we know. We talk to their 
machines but their machines don't know songs. Not very 
fun to talk to. 


Sometimes the machines talk back, though. They don't 
tell us anything fun like secrets or stories or songs. They 
don't use real words but we understand and sometimes 
there's a problem and we fix it. Sometimes we don't 
understand the problem so we show Them. Sometimes 
we don't work on talking machines. Some of us still have 
hands and They make them work on the pipes and other 
things. 


| miss hands. They took my hands. They gave me 
blades. Like a mantis. | can fix some of Their machines 
now, can feel little problems and tell Their talking 
machines where the little problems are. 


Sometimes there's more of us. Sometimes the new ones 
talk about a War. The new ones are always scared. They 
usually have new songs, though. | wish mother could 
sing their new songs. Miss the sound of mother's voice. 


We're in anew place. They made us ride in a strange 
train for a very long time. Many of us in a small space. 


No sitting for a long time. That's ok, though. Strong legs. 
But not like father's. Like a cricket. 


New knowledge without learning. Strange knowledge. 
Weird machines. Machines that attach to people. Don't 
like this new knowledge. Don't want to use it. 


They brought children to us. Scared. Dirty. Lots of 
children. | haven't seen this many children in one place 
for a long time. Singing would help, but can't sing. Try to 
talk to the children but they can't hear me. 


Have to help Them put weird machines on the children. | 
don't like this. | can't stop They're making me do it I'm 
sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm 
sorry no please why are you making me do this they're 
just children please stop I'm so sorry. 


| tried to stop Them. They're taking me away now. The 
others didn't even stop to watch. Except one. They're 
with me now. They're taking both of us. | try to sing, but | 
can't. But | tell the other the songs | know. Miss the 
sound of mother's voice.// 


Chapter 4: The Soldiers from the Hidden City 
Chapter 5: The Old Soldier From New York 
Epilogue 


The Bridge of the Starship Endeavor, Shipboard Date 
089/10/13: 


A spacecraft several kilometers long has just entered a 
stable orbit around a small, blue world. The commanding 
officer, a severe woman in her late 40s, but aged beyond 
those years, stands behind her chief communication 
officer. 


"Across all channels, ma'am?" 
"Yes. Send it." 


A few strikes on the control surface, and the task is 
done. 


"Ensign Frailey, tell our helmsman to enter a higher orbit, 
and activate the stealth systems. Inform me immediately 

if we receive any communications from the surface. I'll be 
in my quarters." 


"Yes, ma'am." 


The young officer quickly steps off to carry out the 
command. As the captain reaches her quarters, she can 
feel the ship begin to vibrate as it moves to its new 
destination. She sighs, and wonders if the struggle her 
people have faced for millennia has been for naught. 


Capitol City, Year of the Reclamation 1004, 13th Night 
of the Season of the Cold North: 


A message has just been received by all major radio 
observatories all across the continent, source unknown. 
A basic translation has been created and prepared for 
the High Council's review. 


All is forgiven. What happens next is in your 
hands for now, but we will not wait forever. 


Let us come home. 


Warm Memories 


Did | ever tell you the story of the Hindenburg disaster? It was quite 
a big deal when it happened, it was all over the news for months. 
And | was there when it happened. | was just a young kid back then, 
barely ten years old. But even now, | remember it as clearly as my 
first campfire. 


| went there with my grandfather, your great great grandpa Charlie. 
We had gone down to see the great Hindenburg land in our town. 
Everyone in town was there. You could feel the heat of the people 
all around you. The stars shined as bright as could be. | saw the 
great airship come in. 


It was big, bigger than anything | had ever seen before. It had great 
big red swastikas on it, redder than any | had seen before. | could 
see them very clearly as it came in for a landing. | asked my 
grandfather how anything could be that big. He didn't answer, he 
just took another drag on his cigarette and kept watching. 


All of a sudden there was this big light from the inside of the ship. It 
looked like some great paper lantern suspended there in the sky. 
People didn't know what to make of it, they just looked on, dumb as 
a sheep looking into an inferno. Then all of a sudden... it bursts into 
flames. 


You could feel the wave of heat wash over you. | can still hear the 
people screaming. They screamed so loudly... it seemed like all that 
you could hear was the screaming and the running. | wanted to run, 
but grandfather held me tightly. | can remember the warmness of his 
hand as he squeezed me. 


Watching that big blimp go down was breathtaking. You could see 
people trying to get it under control on the ground, and people in the 
cabins trying to get out. It was just a terrible, terrible thing for a 
young kid like me to watch...| had forgotten about it till now. But this 
photo brings it all back. 


SCP-992: Gaia's Emissary 


Item #: SCP-992 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-992 is within a humanoid 
containment chamber, located in Site-77's Euclid SCP wing. The 
chamber does not have any windows or natural lighting. Several 
potted plants are contained in the cell, and tended to by personnel. 
SCP-992 is permitted to request specific plants, as long as they are 
of a benign nature. Any other requests made by SCP-992 are to be 
denied. Animals may be exposed to SCP-992 under controlled 
environments, for testing purposes. Communication with SCP-992 is 
forbidden, and any subject who has been found to communicate 
with SCP-992 will receive a full anomalous evaluation. D-Class 
personnel are not to be used with SCP-992 testing. 


Description: SCP-992 is an elderly Australian Aboriginal male of 
Pitjantjatjara ethnicity, 1.2 meters tall, weighing 95 kg. SCP-992 
claims to be between 57-71 years old; however, in the 65 years the 
subject has been contained, it has not appeared to age. SCP-992 
will attempt conversation with individuals who visit its containment 
chamber. These conversations typically consist of the subject 
describing its unsubstantiated prophetic abilities, and engaging the 
visitor in esoteric philosophical debates. 


When left alone, SCP-992 attempts to converse with various forms 
of flora and/or fauna, and will occasionally claim to receive prophetic 
visions while conversing with them. These conversations will usually 
take place over the course of several hours, with SCP-992 holding a 
one-sided conversation with the organism it is conversing with. If 
SCP-992 is asked about the topic its conversations, it will frequently 
allude to vague natural events which have not occured; it also 
maintains claims to have predicted various, widely-publicized natural 
disasters. However, these are unsubstantiated. 


I've got that warm fuzzy feeling. 


Warm Milk and Ramen 


Ring, ring 


There sat a man in a dark room, illuminated only by the dim light of 
his computer screen. He shifted in his chair, ripping the blanket from 
his body as pillows fell from where his head lay. 


Ring, ring 


He padded around the desk, searching for his headphones. As soon 
as he found them, he slammed on the spacebar of the keyboard, 
answering the call as his headphones found their place atop his 
head. 


"Hello, my name is Marcus with Foundation Tech Support, could | 
get your name please?" He tried to sound as cheery as possible, but 
couldn't keep himself from mumbling the last part. 


"Yeah hello? My name is James, just got a new laptop from Tech at 
Site-47, and I'm having some problems." 


"Of course James, let's get started. Can you describe the problem?" 
"Well, when-" 


"Oh sir, first | would like to inform you that this call is being recorded 
for improvement in our help in the future, is that okay with you?" 


The man on the other end seemed slightly annoyed. "What? Um, 
yeah | guess, sure. But anyways, I've been having some problems 
with this laptop | got about a week ago." 


Marcus cut back in, twirling the phone cord in his fingers as he 
spoke. "Sorry but quick question. Is this a hardware issue, or 
something involving a program?" 


There was a brief silence on the other end. "... How the fuck should 


| know, that's why I'm calling!" 


The chair Marcus sat on leaned back up. "Woah there, let's just 
calm down, I'm here doing my job and trying to help alright? Go on 
please." 


"Yeah yeah, whatever. Whenever | start the computer, the graphics 
get all weird. It's like | can reach into the screen. Well, | can. The last 
time | did, | couldn't feel my hand for three days! The damn thing is 
always playing some soundfile of a little girl crying or cursing at me 
too. Sometimes, stuff creeps out too. Like, last time | browsed my 
files, tentacles started to come out of my screen!" 


"Have you tried restarting your computer?" Marcus leaned back 
again. 


"What? I've restarted it like fifteen fucking times, | don't think that's 
it." 


"Alright, alright. Hmm. What files were they?" 


There was short silence on the other side of the phone. "Umm... 
They were just, uh, accounting stuff, numbers and all that." James’ 
voice trailed as he finished the sentence. 


Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Accounting stuff. Is the 
computer on right now?" 


"...Yes." 
"Okay. Describe your room." 
"What the fuck? Why?" 


He sighed. "Sir, we have a checklist to go through here, so just try 
and be as compliant as possible, okay?" 


"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. It's just my room in my apartment, nothing 
really around." 


"So you aren't on Site-47?" 


"No." 

"Any neighbors?" 

"Yeah, above below and on the side." 

"Okay. Wait, what screen are you on?" 

"Umm, just the home screen. No programs are opened." 


"Good, good. Alright, before we move on, can you read me the code 
on the Standard Issue sticker on the bottom of the laptop James?" 


There's some shuffling on the other line. "It's... 33RT50PB985GG8. 
Got it?" 


Marcus enters it into the system, and becomes a slight bit more alert 
as the screen of information regarding the laptop issued pops up. 
"Okay, | need to you go to another room, and prepare a glass of 
warm 2% milk, some ramen, and some tin foil." 


Silence returned briefly on the other end. "... Alright, whatever." 


A few minutes later, Marcus heard a loud thump on the other end. "! 
have all of the shit ready, what now?" 


"Is the ramen hot?" 
"...Yes, it's hot." 


Marcus smiled. "Great, while you were cooking that | ran some 
searches on the problem. | have one question for you here James, 
is ita PC or Mac?" 


"Umm, Mac." 


"Oh dear. I'm going to have to redirect you to a specialist here, one 
moment please." 


An audibly loud sigh was heard on the other end of the line as 
Marcus transferred James to Rho-9's eldritch expert. 


*static* 
"Do you have a visual?" 


A bearded man in a headset watched intently from the open slits in 
the hanging air vents. He had been crawling for nearly an hour, but 
was finally in good position. Below him was a door, enveloped in a 
long hallway. He tapped the green button on his headset. "No visual 
on either target. Are you sure this is going down?" 


He looked around in silence for a minute, before he was answered. 
"Yeah, should be any minute now. | have confirmed visuals of them 
leaving the bar about a minute ago. Just stay-" The voice cut out. 


"Command? Command, can you read me?" The man was met with 
brief silence. "JOHN, COME IN, RHO-9 AGEN-" 


A new voice, drenched in boredom, cut into the headset. "Hey 
Nathan, it's Marcus. You got a minute?" 


He paused. "...What? Not now Marcus, I'm in the middle of-" 


"Oh the thing with Brandon? Yeah good luck with that, but I'm gonna 
need a minute of your time here." 


"Listen, I'm in the field taking care of-" 


"Hold on, we have an issue with a laptop on Site-47, looks like a 
class two eldritch computer virus. | have a card right... here, that 
says to transfer these kinds of things to you, sooo... Transferring the 
call now!" 


Nathan nearly slammed his head on the top of the vents. He angrily 
whispered, "Don't you fucking transfer him to me, | just told you 
that-" He heard a ringing through his headset. He sighed audibly 
before clicking one of the buttons on his headset. 


A new voice came to life in the headphones. "Hello? I've been on 
hold for at least 10 minutes, let's hurry up." 


Nathan slumped in defeat, and adjusted his headset. "What's your 
name sir." 


"James." 
"Alright James, I'm guessing you just got done making the ramen? 
"Yeah." 


"You're going to want to start up the computer and go to your 
folders, alright?" 


There was a pause. "Alright, now what?" 


"Find the folder named 'R8H8916YTR' and let me know when you 
have it." 


Between sentences Nathan searched through the openings at the 
bottom of the vent. 


"Okay, | found it. Now what?" 


"Alright, now | need you to do exactly as | say. Wrap the tinfoil 
around your hand until there are no openings, like it's a glove. Once 
you do that, | need you to delete the folder." He sighed. This part 
was always so obnoxiously loud. 


"Okay.... Okay.... OH GOD, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS" 
Nathan rolled his eyes as the screaming intensified. 
"HELP ME, IT'S EATING MY HAND, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" 


"James, you need to calm down. That's what the tinfoil is for, alright? 
I'm going to need you to throw some of the ramen at the screen." 


"WHAT?" 


"Throw the ramen at the screen, and what I'm guessing would be 
the toothed tentacles trying to eat your hand will let go. It shouldn't 
take that much, so you can eat the rest if you're hungry.” 


"AHHHHHH...ahhh... Okay....Okay it's gone. Jesus Christ..." 


"Alright, now drink the milk." 


"But-... Okay." 


Nathan was starting to get anxious. This was the fifth call this week 
about the bug, and he was getting tired of telling researchers to 
drink their milk. He saw two figures talking below him, their voices 
quiet. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked in a hushed tone. 


"Will the laptop work right now?" 
"Is the folder gone?" 
"....Yeah." 


"It will work. If you don't have anything else, just shut the laptop off 
and report to your nearest med bay so they can look at your hand, 
don't take that tinfoil off until you get there." 


"Alright, thank-" 


Nathan hit a small red button on the side of his headset. He returned 
to his reconnaissance mission, the two shadows below talking in 
hushed tones. The dial on his headset turned, and a familiar voice 
came back to life. "Nathan, are they there? What's going on? Did he 
say something stupid?" 


"Shhh." 


The two figures conversed for another minute, before silence 
ensued. The shorter of the two turned and opened the door behind 
it, and leaned against the frame. They moved closer and embraced, 
before the taller figure began to walk away. 


"Shit, Rho-9 Delta reporting, looks like this mission is-" 


In an instant, a woman's voice shot from the open door into the hall, 
stopping the fleeting figure in it's tracks. Upon turning around, a 
Rho-9 patch was visible on the taller figures jacket. He returned to 
the door, and was led inside with his companion. The door shut with 
a loud thump.