You are watched. You are protected. And no matter how goddamn 
frustrating you are, you are loved. 


- President Girard Niang, 2) Initiative 


Footnotes 
1. "Site" was a product of your world. Lesson number 1 of working at 


Three Moons: Multiverse theory's a bitch. 


Ramah 


The sun prepares its farewell to the darkening sky. 


A young mother wanders. She has borne her first children under a 
shining sun. She walks to get all the things they will ever need. She 
is oblivious to the clouds thickening. 


Flash floods are not unknown in this area. The sky pours its soul into 
the earth until the earth cries out and can swallow no more. 


The mother tries to escape. She knows it is no use. But she runs 
anyway. She is desperate. She knows there is more than merely her 
own life at risk. Her children. She hears their cry not with her ears 
but with her heart. 


Her feet run through dirt and then mud and then water and then 
nothing at all. If the earth itself cannot withstand this assault, what 
chance does she have? 


Her body is pummeled by the endless rain and mud until she cannot 
move, cannot breathe, cannot live. Her final thought is of her 
children. 

| love you. 


Forever. 


The earth swallows her, then. 


Forever is long, as she comes to learn. 


She awakens to the sound of thunder, her body once again exposed 
to the very elements that entombed her. She moves her arm. She is 
not the same. This isn't right. 


The mother is trapped between heaven and hell, between life and 


death. She feels the rain, once a pleasant companion, eat away at 
her very essence. She walks again, unsteady. She must return to 
her children. Her bones dissolve in the cruel downpour and she 
continues to walk. Her legs vanish and she continues to struggle. 
Finally she cries out once as the last drop washes her away. 


One more dark and stormy night. Then another. Then another. 
! will return to you. 
Even if it takes me an eternity. 


Fortunately for her, even eternity has an end. 


SCP-921: Museum of Memories 


Item #: SCP-921 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: Research Site-346 has been 
constructed inside SCP-921. Signs indicating volcano and 
earthquake hazards are to be posted around SCP-921's 
containment area, in order to discourage Civilian visitation. 
Foundation agents are to be disguised as members of the Armenite 
State Forest Service, and are to ensure the area is vacant at all 
times. Interaction with instances of SCP-921-1 is permitted to all 
personnel who passed the general authorization process for the 
Site, while direct interaction with SCP-921-2 requires authorization 
from Site Director Dr. Siril. 


Description: SCP-921 is an underground complex of rooms, 
tunnels and chambers of various sizes, composition and age 
surrounding a central chamber, located in the mountainous area 
near , .. While some appear to be natural caves, others are 
clearly man-made, or were formed by unknown means altogether. 
SCP-921's anomalous nature stems from the effect the assorted 
objects it contains (henceforth SCP-921-1) have on those who 
interact with them. Many of the rooms in SCP-921 contain rock 
formations or underground flora (in the cave-like rooms), mundane 
items (in the man-made rooms) or other objects (in the unclassified 
rooms). These objects seem to contain "sensations" — when 
interacted with, each object will cause its user to experience a 
combination of sights, sounds, scents and other sensory inputs, as 
well as emotions. No lasting or harmful effects due to interaction 
with instances of SCP-921-1 were observed. 


The central chamber of SCP-921 houses an incorporeal entity 
(henceforth SCP-921-2), who addresses those who enter the main 
chamber of SCP-921. SCP-921-2's voice originates from the ceiling 
of the central chamber, though no obvious source has been found. 


Rapture 


He soared higher and higher, white wings beating noiselessly as he 
streaked upwards, defiant of the gravity pulling him back towards the 
ground. Soon the figure buried himself in the clouds, the pale 
feathers blending in with the mass of moisture. How good it felt to 
stretch to his full extent! How wonderful it felt to ride once more upon 
his chariot and behold the mass below him in all its value! 


The creature grinned to himself. It had been too long since he had 
feasted so well, and on such delicious sounds! Oh, might have 
stayed had he been more gluttonous! Yet, he knew how to face 
temptation; he simply feasted on what was required before parting 
out of the normally silent Hell. And yet, he knew the best was still out 
there and he was meant to find it. 


At once, a beautiful song broke through the atmosphere, calling to 
him. Oh, could this be it? Could this be the messiah? Speedily, he 
dove down towards the pitch. 


She stood tall, a beacon at the front of the hall. Once again, the 
Church had its Musician and her voice filled the chapel. The faithful 
filed in and sat in their seats, row after row, section after section. 
The clergy lined up and watched quietly as the room filled, only the 
sounds of feet patting the ground and benches groaning as people 
settled in them to break the tone of the mechanism. Finally, once the 
final member sat down, the man standing at the foot of the altar 
spoke. 


"Faithful. Today, we celebrate the recovery of our Voice. She was 
taken from us, by the Heretics, the Foundation." He spat out the 
word Foundation like it was a blasphemous term, and the 
congregation murmured in assent. "However! The Heretics have 
been crippled! Their power is waning and their grip is slipping." The 
murmuring grew in volume, with greater grunts of agreement. "They 
have struck down our prophets too many times! They have tried to 


quiet our Truth! They defile our God and molest our Musician!" Cries 
of outrage and anger rose above the rumble of their voices. "They 
are unfaithful! They are against God! We must strike down this evil 
and make the Broken Whole!" The congregation was becoming 
frenzied, cheering loudly while stomping their feet against the 
ground. 


The man at the altar held up his hand, waiting until the only sound in 
the church was Her Singing. He spoke calmly and evenly, ina 
steady rhythm. 


"Broken we come. Broken we meet. Broken we fight." 


He repeated it, again using a steady rhythm as the crowd picked it 
up. 


"Broken we come. Broken we meet. Broken we fight." 


The chanting grew in volume as more people began saying it, then 
yelling it, then screaming it, once again stomping their feet in unison. 
Never in their frenzy was the meter changed. The congregation was 
so engrossed and spirited in the chanting that the entrance of a pale 
figure at the back of the crowd went unnoticed. 


How wonderful! 


He had made many pilgrimages before to many places, but never 
before had he found such a feast. He was almost content just to 
bask in the rhythmic noise of chanting. 


Almost. 


The people in the furthest back pew were caught completely off- 
guard. The row in front of them had just enough warning to turn 
around before their demise. After that, the organized rally became a 
chaotic massacre. Cries of pain replaced the proud proclamations. 
Men, women, children, families, trampled over each other, all trying 
to reach the altar, praying to God to save them. It was in vain. Each 
sob of terror, each pained howl, each and every shout of panic and 
plea made him grow more and more. He stepped forward through 


the aisle, slowly basking in the beauty of the scene. He reached the 
foot of the altar, wings having grown so huge as to reach every 
corner of the church. Spreading his arms outward and tilting his 
palms towards the heavens, the figure let out a pleasurable sigh, 
blood flying all over his form and sliding off as if it were water. He 
licked his lips, savoring the taste. Soon, far too soon, every human 
in the room was dead. Flesh and metal covered the walls and floors. 
And yet, he realized, feeding was not done. Though all the humans 
were gone, a pitch still persisted, originating from the construct 
towering over the back wall of the altar. 


It was so...majestic. So perfect. So undeniably holy. How could he 
leave? How could he leave? 


He knelt where he stood, recognizing where reverence was proper. 
He stayed for a long time, thoughts focused on it and only it, praying 
to it, thanking it, letting it nourish him more and more as it sang at 
higher and higher tones. 


Eventually, a new sound joined the pitch. 
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. 


He didn't mind. In fact, it seemed right. It was a sign. A sign of 
purpose, of more than just feast and fast. He stood and turned, 
wings folded in as much as possible to face the entrance. It must be 
protected. She must be protected. It was his God-given duty. 


Re: Promotion 


To: cogneatohazzrd@azmail.com 
From: lizod2422@mailboxes.net 
Subject: Re: Promotion 


Hey, Stan! 


It's great to hear your son’s doing better. | understand it was pretty 
touch-and-go for a while. Just make sure he gets plenty of fluids, 
okay? Myra has promised to keep him in her prayers. 


Anyway, congratulations on your promotion. | can tell you the job 
isn’t easy. SCP-2422 may not be the MOST difficult bunch to deal 
with, but some of them can be quite the handful some of the time. 


So, guess what. As Project Director, you get brand new Level 4 
Clearance! You know what that means: you have a lot of reading to 
do, mister. 


As you know, we do a LOT of interviews with the members of 2422. 
I’m not going to make you read all of them; most of them are really 
boring, anyway. I’m just going to attach a couple of transcripts we’ve 
deemed important to read to have a complete understanding how 
these people work. 


You'll recognize the second one; an edited version of it is attached 
to the standard article concerning 2422. This one, though, is 
complete. All the expunged data is there. There’s a lot of it, too. 


Since I'm technically not the Project Director anymore, there area 
couple of things that have been blacked out in my copies of these 
files — just a couple of names, not super important stuff. If you really 
need to know those names you can look in your own copies when 
you get back to work. For now, the names don't appear close 


enough to each other to be confusing. You're smart. You'll be fine. 


All the files are compressed and attached below. Happy reading and 
good luck in your new job! 


Sincerely, 

Lizzie 

Former SCP-2422 Project Director 
Secure. Contain. Protect. 


2422 Interviews _For_Stan.zip 


Interviewed: SCP-2422-A 
Interviewer: Dr. Welsch 


Foreword: The following interview occurred as 
part of the routine psychological evaluations 
administered regularly to all members of 
SCP-2422. SCP-2422-A does not typically 
exhibit any strong emotion. 


<Begin Log> 
Dr. Welsch: Hello, SCP-2422-A. 


SCP-2422-A: Hello, ma’am. How are you 
today? 


Dr. Welsch: | am doing well, 2422-A. How are 
you? 


SCP-2422-A: Can't complain. 


Dr. Welsch: That’s good to hear. How are you 
liking the facility? 


SCP-2422-A: Oh, ma’am, it’s wonderful. It’s 
where | and my family are meant to be, you 
know. 


Dr. Welsch: | do. 


SCP-2422-A: I’m so glad you've allowed us to 
stay here. You have provided for us and 
allowed us to provide. 


Dr. Welsch: We're happy to have you. 


SCP-2422-A: |’m just— my purpose in life is to 

please the people around me. Me and the rest 
of my family, it’s what we do. I’m so glad we’ve 
made you happy. You let us fulfill our purpose, 
and I'm so grateful. 


Dr. Welsch: Tissue? 
[SCP-2422-A blows its nose] 


SCP-2422-A: I'm sorry. I'm not usually this 
emotional. 


Dr. Welsch: Don't worry about it. You're fine. 


SCP-2422-A: Wandering Father gave us a 
purpose but you've given us a way to fulfill it. 
We are forever in your debt. You allow us to 
provide. 


Dr. Welsch: You are very welcome. I’m glad 
you're happy. 


SCP-2422-A: My family's my responsibility, 
you know? | have to protect them. But now 
here you are, protecting all of us. It's a real 
weight off my chest. 


Dr. Welsch: We're happy to help. If you don't 
mind my asking, what exactly would you need 
protection from? 


SCP-2422-A: Doctor, you of all people should 
know the world is a very dangerous place. 


You're an intelligent person. Very intelligent, 
actually. You know more and more nasty, 
inexplicable things pop up every day. Until we 
came here, it was my responsibility to provide 
a shelter for my family against those things. 
You — the Foundation — are our shelter. You 
provide for us. 


Dr. Welsch: Oh. Okay. Well, we're happy to 
have you. 


SCP-2422-A: You fulfill our purpose. You 
allow us to provide. Thank you. 


<End Log> 


Closing Statement: The word "provide" 
seems to have taken on a significant meaning 
for SCP-2422-A. Personnel are to record any 
use of that word by it in casual conversation. 


Interviewed: SCP-2422-C 
Interviewer: Dr. Welsch 


Foreword: Dr. Welsch made a request to 
have an interview with SCP-2422-C to ensure 
the amended containment procedures as of 
11/ /20 —including the administration of 
antidepressants to SCP-2422-C without its 
knowledge — was effective. Her request was 
approved, but the interview conducted 
produced no pertinent information. However, 
SCP-2422-C subsequently requested regular 
meetings with Dr. Welsch, as a sort of therapy. 
These sessions are recorded for the purposes 
of record-keeping. They almost universally 
contain no information of interest. On 3/ /20 , 
however, SCP-2422-C revealed new 
information concerning the nature of 


SCP-2422. 
<Begin Log> 


Dr. Welsch: Hello, SCP-2422-C. How have 
you been this week? 


SCP-2422-C: Okay, | guess. How have you 
been? 


Dr. Welsch: I've been just fine. Thank you for 
asking. 


SCP-2422-C: Hey, how many other people are 
here? 


Dr. Welsch: | beg your pardon? 


SCP-2422-C: Oh, as | was being escorted 
here today | passed this boy coming the other 
way. He looked like he was talking to someone 
walking beside him, but no one was there. Is 
he anomalous, too? | knew there were lots of 
things contained here but | didn't realize there 
were other people. Am | allowed to see them? 


Dr. Welsch: Your current containment 
procedures don't allow for any interaction with 
other humanoids. That's not typically allowed 
as a rule. 


SCP-2422-C: Damn. Okay. 


Dr. Welsch: | could try to get an order to allow 
you to talk to some, if you want. The one 
you're talking about is SCP-2240-1, and he's 
actually a very sweet young man. | could 
probably arrange some time for you two to 
hang out. 


SCP-2422-C: Could you? That would be really 
sweet. Thank you so much. 


Dr. Welsch: You're very welcome. Have you 
been eating more? 


SCP-2422-C: A little, yeah. | still don't have 
much of an appetite. 


Dr. Welsch: | see. Well, that happens 
sometimes with teenagers. 


SCP-2422-C: Really? | thought teenagers 
were supposed to be hungry, like, all the time. 


[Both pause] 


Dr. Welsch: | am certainly glad you’ve been 
feeling better. Do you have any idea why— 


SCP-2422-C: No, you're not. 

Dr. Welsch: I’m sorry? 

SCP-2422-C: Why are you so nervous? 

[Dr. Welsch pauses] 

Dr. Welsch: Crap. 

SCP-2422-C: lf you’re going to lie to me, don’t 
look me in the eyes. | Know you have mom put 


stuff in my food, so chill out. 


Dr. Welsch: They're standard commercial 
antidepressants. They’re for your own good. 


SCP-2422-C: Just like everything else here, 
right? 


Dr. Welsch: What do you mean? 


SCP-2422-C: Sorry. That was mean. My mood 
hasn't been getting better. 


Dr. Welsch: Appetite suppression is a side 


effect of these particular meds. | should have 
realized the putting them in your food wouldn't 
be productive.