It was a dream, or at least it felt like one. Hana had been invited to 
the ocean god's palace. She went there in a banana-leaf canoe, 
drifting through an orange ocean, the sea melting into the sunset, 
without beginning or end. When she reached the horizon, the canoe 
took her down, down into the realm of the ocean god. Big ocean 
animals stand guard outside the palace, and they let her in the 
diamond-studded coral gate. As she drifted in, through halls made 
from granite, painted with red ochre, palace servants and guards 
look on. They were wearing vivid seaweed clothes, with indigo lining 
and bangles, unlike her tribesmen, which wore linen sarongs and 
simple accessories. And then, she was led to the throne-room, to 
meet the ocean god. The ocean god sits on his throne made from 
coral, pearl, and insets of gold doubloons, majestic and towering. 
Behind the throne was the ocean god's guardian creature, massive 
and powerful, yet calming and soft at the same time. The ocean god 
rose and spoke, "Little girl, | have waited long for you." 


Hana's village was in an uproar. The local shaman had said a week 
ago that something big would happen, but nobody had expected it to 
be this. The shaman's house was crowded, over something that 
happened last night. Hana had been questioned by the shaman all 
morning, over the dream she had, a rare pearl of the night. The 
shaman, wearing her sacred forest-fowl feather garb, went out of her 
house and exclaimed to the crowd. 


"Hana had been chosen by the ocean god! Hana had been chosen 
by the ocean god!" 


Menehana Mauaki's parents were worried. They couldn't bear the 
thought of sending their only child to the open sea. But, the ocean 
god's will must be fulfilled, or their village will suffer. The shaman 

had already pointed out that this dream had occurred rarely in the 


past; few had dreams about the orange sea, and even fewer had the 
chance to see the ocean god himself. But almost nobody had been 
directly invited to the ocean god's palace. Her mother was worried of 
what could be so important about her daughter, to be chosen by the 
ocean god. True, she learned to swim earlier than the other girls, 
and learned how to row canoes earlier than the boys, but she had 
not thought it to be special. "Mother, why are you so worried?" Hana 
asked. "Oh, dear child, | am afraid." "Afraid of what, mother?" "| am 
afraid that | will never see you again. | am sure your father thinks the 
same, even though he is now catching fish in the ocean." "Don't 
worry mother! | will ask the ocean god about this." 


That night, again Hana rowed the banana-leaf canoe through the 
orange ocean, into the gates of the ocean god's palace, through the 
hallways and the corridors. At last, she reached the throne-room, 
and there, still sitting in his throne, and still as majestic as the last 
time, the ocean god. "Child, have you considered my offer? There is 
not much time left." "| would do it, but | do need something, o ocean 
god." "Then speak. | would grant that which is in my power." "My 
parents were afraid that they will never see me again. | am 
concerned about them." "Let go of that concern, child, and give them 
this." The ocean god stroke his hands, and at once the creature 
behind the throne produced a pair of something. Something made 
from limestone, with red ochre lines. "You will know how to use it. 
Give one to your parents, and keep one to yourself. Save your future 
worries to the journey ahead, child." 


And that morning, Hana woke up with the two objects the ocean god 
gave her. The village was again in an uproar. The village shaman 
ran to Hana's house as soon as the story of the recent dream 
reached her ears. "You are truly blessed, child. From what the 
ancestor spirits tell me, these are a manifestation of kindred ocean 
spirits. They will enable you to connect with faraway people, even 
through the spirit world. Only the first ancestor had seen something 
like this! | am proud of you, child of the ocean." The shaman 
trembled with joy. "The Ocean God said | will be able to know how 
to use it." "Yes, child, you will know how to use it, the Ocean God 
had said so." Hana then gave one of the objects to her mother. 


"Mother, this is for you, when | reach the Ocean God's palace, | will 
try to contact you." 


Six days before Hana departed, some shamans from the 
neighboring islands came to the village. "We wish to give her gifts, 
for she will depart from our world into the realm of the Ocean God." 
The shamans then brought a large cloth bundle, intricately sewn 
with divine patterns, and opened it. There were rare magic stones, 
the likes of which only exist in the stomachs of giant centipedes 
which appear only every hundred years, colorful feathers of a bird 
said to be able to disappear into the forest, various herbs stuffed in a 
hollowed-out branch said to be able to cure any disease, and other 
magical aids and amulets. "These are to remind you of the land, 
child. If the Ocean God wills these to be his memento, do not worry. 
Our prayers and blessings will always be carried with you." 


The day comes when Hana had to leave the island to the Ocean 
God's territory. The whole village went to the beach with her. The 
village chief, shaman and aides was there. Hana's parents were 
there. The yam diggers, the fishermen, the taro harvesters, the cloth 
maker, the ironworker, and the rest of the village was there. Some 
people from the other islands also came to witness the event, even 
from islands three or four days away. Everyone watched Hana, the 
child who is summoned by the Ocean God, board her canoe. The 
shamans' gift is on board the canoe, as well as the object the Ocean 
God gave her. The sky was turning from a dark blue to yellow, and 
she set off just when the yellow is beginning to turn orange. 
Everybody was overwhelmed by cries. The spectators wept as she 
set off into the orange sea, just like in her dream. Nobody is sure 
when she will reach the Ocean God's palace, and the divine object 
was passed from generation to generation. It was then kept in a holy 
cave, but, as time go, history forgot about the event... 


Until this day nobody knew Menehana Mauaki's fate. 


Israfil 


| don't know nothin’ about it. | just shut the window. 


| ain't kiddin’, neither. | sit and | wait and when the light turns red, | 
shut the window. Been doin’ that for... Hell, | dunno. Long ass time. 
Couple years for sure. Oh! | do know the item number. Five-Seven- 
Nine. But that's it. 


| dunno what it is, and | don't wanna. | just shut the window. 


There's nothing to know. | sit in my cube and | read books and play 
some games sometimes. Don't even have to leave for lunch or to 
rock a piss or nothin’. Heh... | shits where | sits. No joke, they got 
everyone decked out like that, and it's pretty cushy. Most of the time 
nothing happens. | don't even think | had to shut the window for... 
Hell, | dunno. Long ass time. Couple of years for sure. Oh! | do know 
the item number. Five-Seven-Nine. But that's it. 


| dunno what it is, and | don't wanna. | just shut the window. 


Been here longer than anyone else | know. Sometimes after shift, 
they come up to me and say "hey, we're goin' for a drink, you wanna 
come." And | says "sure", cuz I'm a nice guy like that. We go over to 
the on-site bar and we have a couple drinks. Everyone talks about 
family and kids and what they're doing it for. | ain't got a family. | tells 
them they're all my family and they chuckle. Chuck L.! That's my 
name! | say it's cuz | laugh so much. At games. At TV. At jokes. 
Jokes are funny. But that thing they got me doin’? That's not funny. 
Lucky, | haven't seen it for... Hell, | dunno. Long ass time. Couple of 
years for sure. Oh! | do know the item number. Five-Seven-Nine. 
But that's it. 


| dunno what it is... | did once, but | don't wanna. Not anymore. | just 
shut the window. 


The others? | don't know. Sometimes they talk about what they do, 


even though it ain't right. It's against the rules. They know that, too. 
They say "We all got clearance, what's the harm?" There was a lady 
named Jaimie who wanted to know that | shut the window. But | 
didn't say. It's okay to tell you, right? | told people... | told people 
they were sharing. They were telling each other the things they did, 
and it's not right. It's not... You're not supposed to know what the 
other person does. It's against the rules. And they knew that, too! 
When everyone said what they did, something bad happened. I'm 
glad | said something when | did or it coulda been real bad. It ain't 
been that bad for... Hell, | dunno. Long ass time. Couple of years for 
sure. Oh! | do know the item number. Five-Seven-Nine. But that's it. 


|... | knew what it was once, but | don't wanna. Not anymore. | just 
shut the window. 


| didn't see Jaimie after that. It's better this way, though. Some 
things... Some things | ain't never gonna forget. No matter how 
many times | get dosed, no matter how dumb | get. Yeah, | know | 
ain't bright. | weren't never bright. Heh heh heh. Bright, like Dr. 
Bright! That's funny. | like to laugh. Like to chuckle. Chuck L.! that's 
my name! | say it's cuz | laugh so much. There's a lot to laugh about 
in this world. That's what | like. | like funny jokes and sunny days. | 
like to go outside when I'm off and feel the grass on my feet. It 
reminds me... It reminds me how important it is that | keep doing 
this. Because of things like... Things like this thing they got me 
watchin’... Because If | don't do this, | don't... | don't wanna know. | 
do know the item number. SCP-579. But that's all. 


| did know once, but | don't want to. Not anymore or ever again. | 
just shut the window. 


And I've heard other parts of the process. It's not pretty. A lot of it is 
very mundane, but there's this one guy who shuts a door, and 
behind that door are about 500 people, sometimes more, and most 
of the time they don't come back out when it's over and we get the 
all-clear. Jesus I'm getting lucid. You said | can't have any more 
pills, eh? I'd really like some. | haven't been this together in... Hell, | 
dunno. Long ass time. Five years for sure, maybe longer. It's hard 
when there are all these patches missing. Oh! | do know the item 
number. SCP-579. But that's all. That's all | know about it. 


interest in it; it is not known how or whether it draws any kind of 
sustenance from these acts. 


Addendum: 


SCP-885 is nearly undetectable in a normal atmosphere - even 
within liquids it is only visible as a cluster of bubbles. Unexplained 
air shifts near SCP-885's enclosure should be immediately reported. 
SCP-885 has poor fine control of its pressure shifts, but can hold 
doors closed by sheer differential (101 kPa in a standard 
atmosphere). Remember sound does not travel in a vacuum, and 
victims may not be able to cry for help before it's too late. 


Victims of SCP-885 must be immediately triaged for barotrauma; 
common effects of short-term exposure to SCP-885 are eardrum 
damage, lung damage or collapse, bruises and embolism. Less 
common effects of short-term exposure to SCP-885 due to more 
sudden pressure shifts, are prolapse of the digestive and respiratory 
tract, large scale blood loss by evaporation, and brain trauma. 
Effects of long-term exposure to SCP-885 are, nearly universally, 
death. 


« SCP-884 | SCP-885 | SCP-886 » 


That's all | Know and that's all | wanna— 
... Shit. 


Pardon me, but this /s a restricted area. I'm gonna have to ask you 
to leave. No, it ain't strictly required but... Don't argue, just go. God 
help you if you don't. Heh heheheh! HA-HA! God! That's funny. | do 
like to laugh. "Chuckle" they call me, behind my back when they 
think | ain't listenin’. | know our session ain't over, but that's okay. 
You'll end it yourself in a second when it hits you. ... Yep, there you 
go. Feel that behind the eyes? Yeah... Too late now. Put that helmet 
on and don't take it off until | take it off for you. YES it's important. 
Trust me. You don't wanna see it. You don't wanna know. 


Hell, / don't wanna know, but | know. Been a while since this 
happened. Loooong ass time. Five years at least, probably more. 
SCP-579 doesn't try to break containment often, but when it does... 


Nevermind. You don't have to think about it. 


Because I'm here. And | shut the window. 


It Always Has Been, It Always Has Not Been 


Vasvis Ten-Fold Reaper stepped out of the shower, and spread her 
arms wide. Water dripped down onto the floor as spindly metal arms 
whirred out from the smooth white walls, drying pads working their 
way across her body. Other arms fed her long black hair through 
drying rollers, and another set held out the day’s clothing: a shortish 
skirt, a tank top, and a long white coat with a high collar and far too 
many belts and pockets and chains. On the back was the image of a 
clenched fist, surrounded by a sunburst. 


“My Lady, we have received further reports from Varssarang 
Station,” a deep, pleasant voice said over a hidden speaker. 


“And?” Vasvis pulled her arms through the sleeves of her jacket. 


“The island has been completely obliterated, all original personnel 
are dead or dying, the fires on the ocean surface have yet to stop, 
scraps of dark matter waste still dot the area to a distance of over 
forty kilometers, and the dying screams of the dimensionally shifted 
continue throughout the blast zone.” 


Curses. Another setback, more time wasted. This put the project...at 
least another eight months behind schedule. This was unacceptable: 
the Kinetic Overdose Gel, the Deep-Sea Nuclear Reconnaissance 
Endoskeleton, the mk7 Selchangelon unit series, the LONGSTRIKE 
orbital harpoon gun, all of that worked. All of that was developed on 
time all while the Temporal/Spatial Boundary Overpass Device 
floundered along like a morbidly obese man with one leg trying to 
reach a piece of unidentifiable fried food on a high shelf. She sealed 
the clasps on her boots. 


“Furthermore, the barbarian fleet bearing their representative has 
arrived. Shall | send a drone out to retrieve the test subject now?” 


“Yes, yes, fine.” She waved her hand absentmindedly. Savages. 
Who needed them? Completely uncivilized. No manners, no culture, 


lived off of scraps, completely helpless against the things in the 
deep, and, worst of all, they were horrible house guests. They 
always smelled like fish. But...out there were a few of them who 
were interesting. Especially this one. He actually volunteered to 
have stuff shoved in his brain. Still a fish-shitting savage, though. 


“As you wish, my Lady.” 
Vasvis rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles. Time for work. 


Nikolai picked at the massive scab on the fleshy part of his thumb. 
The skin was peeling around the edges of the brown-red patch. 


Time passed. He sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the 
ship, salt in his nostrils, and the wind rattling the fishbones that hung 
from the rim of his wide-brimmed hat. He took a swig from a plastic 
jug, filled with some pale yellow liquid with unidentifiable chunks 
bobbing at the surface. Setting that aside, he reached into his vest 
and removed a dented tin of chewing chalk from his inside vest 
pocket. 


Nikolai was a philosopher, a shipseer. It was his role in life to look at 
things and think about them. Of course, one could not live off of 
philosophy alone, so he also served as doctor, navigator, keeper of 
records and accounts, translator, and advisor to the captain.