Dear Dr. Spanko, 

I'm having trouble getting to sleep. Even 
when | avoid coffee and computers near 
bed, | still toss and turn. What can | do? 
-Junior Researcher Andrew Evans 


Have you appleseeds? Falseways, mayhaps check the 
camputor?2 for another you. If missing, you may be a 
dracula33, so get out of the kitchen and hollar for Dr. 
[CACK!]$4 with posthastitude! 


Dear Dr. Spanko, 

| don't know who supplies the coffee 
machines for our Sites, but wherever I go, 
I'm drinking muddy water that tastes like 
Joan of Arc washed her face with it. Now, | 
found ONE machine that actually gave me 
decent coffee. Trouble is, | can't find it 
anymore. Would you have any idea where 
that was? 

-Dr. D.H. Aeslinger, Psy.D. 


How the cack should my know-how? Shiny brown pygmy 
lemons39 mine un-favorite they are; too much crunchy 
for bitter batter. | un-think how you pokey blokes can 
quench Pygmy Lemonade, take self an old-fashioned 
moose juice36 anytime. 


Dear Dr. Spanko, 


| fear | find myself in a most unusual 
conundrum. | am, as you surely are, a man 
of science, yet | find myself surrounded by 
people who insist that | am, in fact, an 
aquatic mollusk. | know full well that | am 
no such thing, but they insist on treating 
me as if | were in spite of my protestations 
to the contrary. What means would you 
advise by which to resolve this state of 
affairs? 

-Thomas Theodore Blackwood, 8th 
Viscount of Westminister 


Cack? | say, is you Blackwood-sama? Cack-cack 
cooray! Mine thoughtsumed had that you licked the big 
candle in the sky! Bit of the old roundabout, wot wot? 
Nostalgia, methinks, of stomping through the jungles of 
tim buck-too! 


As time for the seashells on the sea shore, it crystal clear 
that the foundry is punto banco37. Just play a pong now 
cow, and maybe someday you'll see what | mean. 


Note: Upon further questioning, it appears that 
SCP-1867 and SCP-2337 had been traveling 
companions for a period of time ranging from 18 to 18 . 
1867 seems to be fully aware of 2337's anomalous 
properties, and describes 2337 as being "a good sport, 
but a bit of an odd duck if you know what | mean", citing 
difficulties in understanding 2337 as the main reason 
they stopped traveling together. Due to the difficulty in 
translating SCP-2337's speech, the accounts of their 
travels have yet to be confirmed. 


Footnotes 

1.Happy times, mimes! (id.)Believed to be a salutation or greeting. 
2.Spidersteps (n.)Web Page, or Blog 

3.Mr. Lightbulb (pn.)Belived to be the nickname that SCP-2337 has 
assigned to Dr. Edison, who at present time is SCP-2337's handler. 
Occasionally written as "Mr. Light Bulb”. 


4.mashed potato (n. v. adj.)Linguistically equivalent to "(v.) 
Donated", "(v.) Obtained", "(v.) Pilfered", "(adj.) Pertaining to the 
campaigns of Genghis Khan" or "(n.) Coleslaw", depending on 
context. 

5.Blinkbox (n.)One of many different words SCP-2337 uses to 
describe the closed-network computer it has received. See 
also;hackmobile,compcop, nightly brightly thingamadoozle, 
andpeckpoker 

6.a muffin little puffin (id.)An idiom that describes SCP-2337 staying 
quiet during daytime hours. 

7.Mister Boss Man (pn.)The O5 Council. 

8.serve a sardine sandwich to faucet police (id.)Meaning unknown. 
9.send-saws (n.)E-Mails 

10.God or Bog and all his Saints and Angels (id.)Personnel 
authorized to contact SCP-2337 via e-mail. 

11.The mayonnaise of Tuesday is never sunny side up. (id.)Meaning 
unknown. 

12.happy lettuce dance (id.)A euphemism for corn crake mating 
rituals. 

13.master big (n.)A rival male of the same species as the 
conversation's subject. 

14.sing the happy death song (id.)The act of growling at a rival vying 
for the affection of a potential mate. 

15.rub your face in jell-o (id.)Meaning unknown, but possibly a literal 
instruction. 

16.thanksqueezeme (id.)A portmanteau of "Well excuse me!" and 
"Thank you very much", both used sarcastically. 

17.terrible terrible radishes (id.)Meaning unknown. 

18.Appleseeds (id.)General advice to the effect of taking things 
easy, getting plenty of sleep, and drinking plenty of water. Perhaps 
one of the most well-understood idioms in SCP-2337's vocabulary. 
19.Psycho-geolo-lingo-bingo (n.)An inconsistently-named academic 
field that SCP-2337 claims to have a doctorate in. Also known 
as:Parologicy,Barlgoflargology, Symbology,CackologyandDoctorology 
20.first stew no arm (id.)Appears to be a corruption of "First, do no 
harm", a well-known condensation of the Hippocratic Oath. 
21.Boombox (n.)A heart. Also referred to as aBeatbox, aPoundbox, 
and aFlabbery Red Thing 

22.She-Mom and the Masters of the Universe (n.)Used to refer to 
SCP-2337's mother. At this time, it is unknown whether "She-Mom" 


is an actual name, or if it is a common term used by members of 
SCP-2337's species. 

23.Extemporize the Soap Rope (id.)The act of forcefully washing a 
subject's mouth with soap. 

24.Foul Platitudes (id.) Unwanted sexual advances. 

25.Editor's Note: There has been no mention of a "Universidad Los 
Samothrace", or any variant thereof in any documentation related 
toSCP-1173. At this time, SCP-2337's knowledge of SCP-1173is not 
considered a containment breach. 

26.Year of the Moldy Cheese Man (n.)One of several nicknames 
that SCP-2337 has given to particularly noteworthy calendar years. 
This one in particular is estimated to have taken place around 19 . 
See also:Year of the Happy Dance,Year of the Smelly FishandYear 
of the [DATA EXPUNGED] With a Side of Spaghetti 

27.Aluminum Cans (n.)Alumni 

28.You scratch my back, | eat bugs off your Tupperware! 
(id.)Meaning unknown. SCP-2337 seems to consider this to be a 
sufficiently honest and detailed explanation as to why he possesses 
knowledge of the Foundation, and accuses researchers who try to 
ask clarifying questions of not "Readspeaking Basic Angler". 
29.Basic Angler (n.) The name SCP-2337 gives for the language he 
speaks. SCP-2337 also claims to be fluent inJapanimation,French 
Fries, UniversalisticsandAntidisestablishmentarianism, each of which 
appear to be a separate language loosely based on Japanese, 
French, Esperanto, and Cockney Rhyming Slang, respectively. As 
efforts to translate these languages have proven especially difficult, 
SCP-2337 has been asked to stick to his "native tongue" when 
communicating with Foundation personell. SeeDocument 2337- - 
C: | Need A New Computer Because The One | Was Using Literally 
Melted When | tried to Translate The Stuff Dr. Spanko Was 
Sayingfor more information on these other languages. 

30.The Monkey at the top of the Swimming Pole (n.)A subject that 
SCP-2337 considers himself quite knowledgeable in. 

31.Scrabble on the Clock (id.)To say that one is currently on 
sabbatical. 

32.Camputor (n.)A mirror, or similarly reflective surface. 

33.Dracula (n.)Vampire 

34.Note:This appears to be an attempt by SCP-2337 to mimic 
Foundation censorship protocols. The method by which SCP-2337 
became aware of said protocol is currently unknown, as is the 


subject that SCP-2337 is referring to. 

35.Shiny Brown Pygmy Lemons (n.)Coffee Beans. Not to be 
confused withShiny Brown Pygmy Limes,Happy Color Pygmy 
Lemons,Shiny Lemon Brown Pygmys, andCoffee Beans. 
36.Moose Juice (n.)SCP-2337's self-proclaimed "favorite quencher", 
consisting of two parts parts tomato juice, one part horseradish 
sauce, one part Sunny Delight, and one part melted M&Ms. 
Curiously, despite the lack of alcohol in any of the ingredients, 
SCP-2337 exhibits signs of mild intoxication upon ingestion of this 
beverage. 

37.Punto Banco (adj.)Insane, crazy, not right in the head. 


Astronomical 


Our planet was dying. There are many explanations | could give for 
this, countless stories of failures and failed ideas and the inability of 
one lonely species to see the truth, endless tales of ignorance and 
of the worst possible living sin, stupidity. But none of these reasons 
are excuses, and in any case | am not looking for sympathy. So 
suffice to say that our planet was dying, while we yearned to live. 


| was in the Council of Sciences. Several years earlier, we had sat 
down the most formidable minds of our time, and broken down our 
situation, assessing the level of our threat- dire, indeed, very dire- 
and more importantly, discussing what we would need for a solution. 
It was called the Thirty Year Plan. The common people thought this 
referred to what we were going to do over the next thirty years to 
solve their problems. In actuality, it was the maximum calculated 
length of time we had until civilization broke down, and possibly 
methods of lengthening that time. 


We would need land, and food, and fuel, and we didn't have the 
resources to attain any of it. We did, yes, have a prototype starship 
available to us, and enough energy to power it many light years, but 
the starship could not carry a city, and there was already talk of 
breaking it down and using the power source to produce heat or 
food or any of the supplies already in dire need. Our planet was 
dying. Our people were starving. We needed hope. 


Then it came, out of the stars, like a gift from the gods we had 
officially denounced. We spotted it in the atmosphere long before it 
touched the surface of our planet, and a rocket was sent to retrieve 
it from orbit. It fell to earth in an unpopulated desert, and was 
removed by a single unmarked van. We couldn't afford to get 
anyone's hopes up. 


| was fortunate to be chosen to help study the Artifact. The bulk of it 
was badly dented, stained, and entirely foreign to us. It was made by 
hands, and the hands were not ours. 


There was some manner of electrical devices built into it, although 
they were all but melted and ashen ropes now. The only item we 
could recover was a single, beautiful, golden disk, covered in tiny 
circular ridges on one side and engraved all over on the other. We 
all stared at the markings. They were unlike anything we had ever 
seen. 


"| don't want to jump to conclusions," said my good friend Professor 
Maddy, after some discussion, "But these drawings could, after 
some imagination, be a star map of sorts." He indicated a set of 
abstract dots and lines. "And these," gesturing to an outlined shape, 
"Could almost be life of some sort." He was saying what all of us 
were thinking, what we didn't want to think. | put my hand on his 
back. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," | said gently. 


"Yes," said the Head of the Council. "Absolutely. Research on this 
item must start immediately, but not a word of this is to be given to 
the public. Does everyone here understand? Not a word." He looked 
around, expression softening. "False hope is another commodity we 
cannot afford." Everyone understood what he meant. 


The next day, | was assigned to speak at a protest in the city of 
Voss. This was the part of my job | hated most. Voss was 
impoverished, hungry, massive, and angry, perhaps rightfully so. | 
would have to smile, and try to address and support their concerns 
by feeding them lies, hopefully by mentioning the Thirty Year Plan 
as much as | could. That always seemed to reassure them. 


| stood, later, in a crumbling and formerly-grand auditorium in Voss. 
The entire room was packed with filthy, hungry, extinguished souls, 
all of them staring at me, dead silent. 


"| would like to c-ccommend you for your concern," | stammered. "But 
your g-government, and the Council of Sciences, have only your 
best interests in... In mind, and we are working on finding solutions 
to the most pressing issues we face, namely the food and water 
shortages, the economic sh-shortfalls, as well as pollution. We want 
to assure you that we are doing everything we can to deal with 
these. | will now f-field questions." | tugged at the collar of my shirt, 
as the room dissolved into angry muttering. A young reporter with a 
microphone stood up. 


"Professor Rook," she addressed me, "You say you are addressing 
the poverty and the food and water shortages in communities 
around the planet. What exactly are you doing?" 


| adjusted my hat normally. "We are developing new and improved 
filtration methods and agricultural practices," | said, "Which should 
drastically increase the amount of food raised. The... Uh, the 
production and implementation of these techniques will require a 
sub... substantial new workforce, thus increasing hiring. This, and 
more, is all covered in the Thirty Year Plan." 


Another reporter stood up. "You know, all the officials I've heard 
have talked about the Thirty Year Plan, but | haven't heard any 
specifics yet. What is the Thirty Year Plan going to do about 
overpopulation? About our waning food populations? About the 
poverty? Professor, what is the Thirty Year Plan?" 


"The Thirty Year Plan cannot be fully disclosed, because we believe 
that total disclosure will alter the intended results," | read off of my 
prompter. "Suffice to say that the Thirty Year Plan is being enacted 
as we speak, and is showing results." Deemphasize, deflect, 
reassure. Easy enough. 

The crowd had begun shouting about the lack of results. | felt small. 


Somewhere in the back, a well-dressed man stood up. He didn't 
have a microphone, and his loud voice carried his words. 


"Professor Rook," he said smoothly. "| recently discovered an 
unrevealed government report- it my have been somewhat 
confidential, | apologize- but it stated that some sort of object- 
known as the Artifact, | believe- fell out of the sky several days ago, 
and, let me quote the report- ‘It is certainly man-made, although it is 
engraved with multiple symbols not recognized, and is nearly 
positively non-terrestrial in design.’ What can you tell us about the 
Artifact, professor?" 


The room was silent. | felt as though | had been punched in the 
chest. | had written those words. The Artifact. They knew about the 
Artifact. | watched the man fade into the crowd again. 


"Y-yes, the, uh, the anomaly- the Artifact, as it's known- does 


normal form of trypanosomiasis, which has a limited rate of 
reproduction, the reproductive rate of SCP-793 increases 
proportionally to the subject's distance into the ZoD, e.g. when a 
subject is at the edge of the ZoD, SCP-793 will reproduce at ~5% 
the speed of Human Congo trypanosomiasis, but once inside the 
hospital (where reproductive capability is at a constant), SCP-793 
cells will reproduce at ~400% the speed of their cousin. 


Symptoms appear to be dissimilar to those of normal Congo 
trypanosomiasis, with a notable increase in hysteria and swelling of 
the lymph nodes. The opposite occurs when a subject leaves the 
ZoD. The reproductive rate decreases, and parasites will 
spontaneously disappear, with no visible signs of cell death. Somatic 
cells whose deaths can be attributed to SCP-793 will appear as if 
origination suddenly occurs, not as of the result of general somatic 
mitosis. The symptoms will fade to those of earlier stages (from the 
neurological phase going to the haemolymphatic stage, etc) until the 
are no signs of the protist existing when a human victim exits the 
ZoD. 


One final note about possible human death as the result of 
SCP-793's actions: the "reversal effects" reverse victim death 
completely. Once the deceased are rescued from the maximum 
reproductive zone, somatic cells appear immediately and any 
remaining instances of SCP-793 disappear. Upon the so-called 
"undeath", individuals often recall extreme pain due to the 
reconstruction of their body (mostly regarded as something along 
the lines of "thousands of knives piercing [their] body") and have no 
recollection of ever entering the Zone of Denial or any knowledge of 
SCP-793.