| lay still for at least an hour. Only by sheer luck or divine 
providence, | seem to have chosen the thickest patch of juniper. 
They pass by my hiding spot multiple times before they give up and 
leave. | keep hiding for another half hour. 


| emerge slowly, looking everywhere and listening for even the 
slightest sound out of place. Soon | realize that while during the day 
| can definitely see better, | still have absolutely no idea about my 
location. | can’t waste time so | pick a direction and walk. 


Within ten minutes I’m on the edge of the forest. This isn’t right. No 
way they would place me so near the shore. | look in the distance 


across the sea. This doesn’t look like the shore of.... 
God damn it. 


Of course, they didn’t put me on the island itself. They put me here. 
A small islet off the northern shore of the island itself. The only way 
to it is either swimming or by a thin strip of land that isn’t fully above 
the water in all places. And anyone going across it can be seen 
clear as day since nothing grows on the strip aside from the 
occasional shrub. I’m willing to bet that there’s at least one of them 
sitting on the end of the strip with binoculars. 


| orient myself based on the shoreline I’m seeing. | am now on the 
eastern edge of the islet and the island is south. After a few more 
minutes of walking through it, | can see the edge of the forest. | lay 
down on my stomach and crawl towards it. | position myself behind 
a bush and brush the leaves aside slightly. 


| lay there for a while, scanning the shore. Then, finally, movement. 
There it is. While | see no binoculars, this one definitely is there to 
keep an eye out. 


The options run through my head. Walking is out. They'll see me the 
moment I’m out of the trees. 


Swimming? No. Too far. No telling how many more are lurking in the 
trees by the beach 


Maybe during the night? If I’m lucky there'll be another storm and 
even if there won't, it'll be much harder to see me. 


| move back into the forest. Judging by the sun | still have at least 7 
hours of daylight left. | soend the time rubbing the still moist soil on 
my skin. 


The night comes painfully slowly and brings a problem with it. A 
nearly full moon. My dirt camouflage can go get stuffed. The bare 
strip of land connecting the two islands will offer me no cover and 
the light will make a moving figure quite noticeable. 


So swimming it is. | walk more towards the eastern part of the islet 
and slowly walk into the water, careful not to make a sound. | swim 


due to problems inherent in the storage method or to the 
degradation of the cup over time is unknown at present. 


Full debriefing of the subjects takes approximately one week, though 
it can take longer depending on the information gained. 


Subject D-769-32 has been useful in translating information, and 
has therefore been removed from the regular termination schedule, 
until such a time as she can teach the language to others. 


Addendum 769-1: The results from Subject D-769-37 have raised 
this object from a mild curiosity to a priority. Recreating the power 
source for that engine would prove invaluable to the Foundation. 


Addendum 769-2: Per the Administrator's instructions, Subject 
D-769-71 was given multiple exposures to SCP-769. However, the 
results have proven unsatisfactory due to the possibility of losing 
valuable information. 


Addendum 769-3: Reports will move from a weekly to a monthly 
basis. 


Addendum 769-4: Future reports to the Administrator will no longer 
contain a listing of all findings. Only those of strategic importance 
will be passed on. The Administrator does not want to know about 

courtship rituals unless they involve lasers, zero-point 
generators, or flying cars, and how to build them. 


Addendum 769-5: Reports will move from a monthly to a bi-monthly 
basis. 


Addendum 769-6: Due to stronger demand in other areas, 
resources for this project are being cut by 80 percent. 


Addendum 769-7: Reports will move from a bi-monthly to a semi- 
annual basis. 


Addendum 769-8: After ten years, several thousand test subjects, 

and nothing to show for it but a handful of fascinating but ultimately 
useless technical schematics, results from SCP-769 have begun to 
repeat themselves. Perhaps the encyclopedia is damaged, and has 
lost other information, as well as any indexing system. Perhaps this 


quietly, not raising my arms out of the water. | don’t know how long it 
takes, but | can finally feel the seafloor. | soend a moment catching 
my breath. I’m quite a good swimmer but the distance did take a bit 
out of me. 


| walk out of the water and look around. The moonlight turns the 
world into one of sharp contrasts. | can see the coast clearly for 
quite a bit. Nothing but rocks and shrubs. The forest is a wall of 
darkness, the moonlight reaching the ground only occasionally. 


| head along the coast towards east. Another partially submerged 
land bridge connects the island to Saaremaa. All | need to do is get 
to it and this hell is over. | walk for a few minutes until light begins to 
flash in the forest. | swear internally and dive behind a large rock. 


The sound of footsteps reaches me soon enough and begins 
moving closer and closer. Only one of them by the sound of it. A 
beam of light flashes around my hiding place and the footsteps 
move even closer. My hands are shaking, my entire body is like a 
compressed spring. A foot moves into my field of vision. And | spring 
towards the form. 


| quickly wrap an arm around the neck. It’s Terje. The daughter of 
Villem, the owner, and caretaker of the lighthouse. She’s barely 
sixteen. | squeeze, allowing no air to pass between her lips to keep 
her from screaming. She struggles. 


And keeps on struggling. She’s not getting any oxygen, she’s almost 
a child and yet she doesn’t stop or even slow down. My thoughts 
race. 

| strengthen my hold. 

My other hand on her head. 

Snap. 

She goes limp. 


| take the flashlight and turn it off, leaving only the moonlight to 
illuminate the world around me. | pull the body into a growth of 
juniper and arrange the branches so that nobody will find her for a 


while. 


| fling the flashlight into the water and keep moving. | try not to think. 
To think would be to slow down. To slow down would be to feel guilt. 
| can do that later. Preferably never. 


A walk that would have taken barely forty minutes otherwise now 
takes slightly more than an hour as | slowly sneak along the edge of 
the forest, trying to keep out of the light. The stone coast stops and 
a kilometer long stretch of reeds appears. | will have to go along the 
outer edge so nobody can hear me. 


The seafloor is soft here and my progress is incredibly slow. | can 
see the eastern sky brightening. 


Tick, tock the clock is almost up. Shouldn't have waited until dusk to 
move. 


I’m through the muck and back on land. | turn left and begin walking 
to the land bridge. | come to the road, get off it as soon as possible 
and walk the rest of the way through the forest. I’m on the edge of 
the clearing when | see lights in the distance. 


No. No. No! 


They’re on one of the islets that make up the land bridge. I’m cut off. 
There’s no way | can get to my boat. I'll never make it before sunrise 
and there’s no way it’s unguarded. 


I’m out of options. | can’t move during the daytime. | can’t swim that 
kind of distance. I'll have to wait until the next night. Maybe | can try 
to sneak by the ones on the connecting islets or try to fight them. 
Now | need somewhere to hide. 


Going west would mean going right into their den. There are only 
two houses towards the east, however. 


East it is. | cut in a straight line through the forest. My skin seems to 
be more resilient. The countless branches barely even bruise me. 


Then | stumble upon a house. 


It's nothing much, barely looks big enough for two rooms. A single 
window. But it shouldn't be here. | know the island quite well and I’ve 
met all who live on it. This house, | have never seen before. 


| know it’s a bad idea, but I’m taking my chances of being capable of 
overpowering whoever is inside. | doubt two people would live ina 
house this small. | move to the door and push on the handle. It’s 
unlocked and opens without a single sound. 


The interior is dark and my hand instinctively reaches for a light 
switch. Which it finds and turns on. | begin to feel unnerved. | can 
hear no generator and there were definitely no power lines 
connecting to the house. 


It’s quiet. | hate it. When | was outside there, | had a purpose and a 
goal. Now there is nothing and my mind roars with thoughts. 


| explore the house to silence them. It’s very basic. A kitchen, a 
bathroom, and a bedroom. The fact that there is running water 
unnerves me even further. Only one person has running water on 
the island and he lives here all year round. And this nonexistent 
house has it as well. 


Then | see the hatch on the bedroom floor. I’m afraid. | shouldn't go 
down there. But at this point, something in my mind has gone 
unhinged. Something has been lost during these weeks. 


| open the hatch. Light streams in from the basement. | climb down. | 
am standing in a small room. A single bulb illuminates it and a white 
steel door stands in front of me. 


| have nothing left to lose. | open it. What does it matter anymore? 


Quite a lot. | am now in a laboratory. Not a very big one, but a 
laboratory nonetheless. Potted plants line the walls. A large table in 
the center of the room in covered in countless flasks, beakers, and 
various other glass containers. And I’m looking into the eyes of a 
young man across the room. 


He greets me. | return the greeting, too confused and shocked to do 
anything else. 


He recovers much quicker and gives me a lab coat to cover myself. | 
put it on. He asks me my name, what I’m doing here, and so much 
more. 


To which | respond by telling him everything. | spare none of the 
details. 


He goes paler and paler during my story, which is rather impressive. 
| didn’t know you could pale with green skin. Once I’m finished he 
rushes up to me, almost earning himself a broken nose. And then 
I’m at the doctor's office. He checks my eyes, my skin, my hair, my 
blood. He asks for some more personal samples and gets told off 
quite strongly. 


He’s like a whirlwind. Every machine in the room is soon whirring, 
buzzing and flashing. And with every result, they give out he gets 

more and more pale. And then the lab is silent and he’s sitting, his 
eyes staring into nothing. 


He mumbles something about genetic instability, the method of 
delivery and instincts. Then he turns to me and explains my 
predicament. 


| feel cold suddenly. It won't stop. It could be slowed down but only 
up to a month or even less. I'll become like them. He keeps talking 
about modified group behavior but | tune him out. This is it. End of 
the line. 


| ask him for a phone. He looks at me, guilt in his eyes. He hands it 
to me. | call Heino, my occasional fishing buddy. | ask if he still 
works at Amari. 


He does. 


| tell him about what's happening. | ask him to tell everybody he can 
about this. And | ask him to give everyone here a shallow grave and 
a Viking crew cut. He tries to talk but | hang up. 


| hand the phone back. We sit in silence for a while before | ask him 
to do me a favor. As a sort of payment for what he has caused. 


He wants to argue. | see it in his eyes. But he doesn't. 


| turn around. 


The taste of lead is all encompassing. 


KKK 


A man sits in a small house. A body lies in the sun outside. His 
fellows and brothers will not look kindly upon him. Murder is nothing 
as there are people enough in the world. Messing with their very 
being, their thoughts and soul, now that is something quite different. 
This will be the end. They'll take everything. His knowledge will turn 
to ash. He will be nothing. And he will not know it. 


He fidgets with the silver ring in his hands, the oak leaf motif 
reflecting light across the walls. He gets up and walks to the shore. 
The ring is cold against his palm. He throws it. 


Once back, he takes a small notebook out of his pocket and pulls 
out a phone. 


“Good evening? Agent Thorstein? This is Oliver Kristjan. We’ve met 
on occasion. No, this is not a joke. | believe | have information you 
would be interested in. You can collect me from Copenhagen. I'll be 
in Apropos. We'll discuss my terms then. Until we meet again.” 


He puts down the phone and sighs. He hates betrayals. 


A Day at the Call Center 


"Good morning, Sir. Yes, you have reached Uncle Merl's Discount 
Emporium, how may | assist you? I'm sorry, this is tech support, we 
don't handle sales. No, Sir, | can't direct you to sales without a 
reference. | don't care if your friend says | did a few days ago, I'm 
not doing it now. Because the last time | did someone got sold 
something she wasn't supposed to have. Sir, | do not appreciate this 
sort of language. Goodbye." 


Mr. Sami was not having a good day. 


Though Mr. Sami only rarely had good days, this one was no 
ordinary bad day, he thought. It was a bad day with expectations, 
with dreams. It aspired to be the best bad day it could be, a day so 
absolutely terrible other bad days will tell stories about it to their 
children. 


Mr. Sami had somewhat of a flair for the dramatic. 


Mr. Sami was a tech support supervisor at Uncle Merl's Discount 
Emporium, top provider of all products mysterious and magical, or 
so the company claimed at least. As far as Mr. Sami was concerned, 
they were the top peddlers of overpriced crap that broke down every 
ten minutes, often disastrously. Say what you will about Marshall, 
Carter, and Dark and their business practices, at least their products 
worked as intended most of the time. Every time one of Merl's 
crappy dehumanizers or shoddy levitators crashed and burned, it 
meant more work for him. Like right now. 


"So, Ma'am, what seems to be the problem with your Luxetron 
30007? It's too bright? Ma'am, you are aware the Luxetron is a device 
made to dispel magical darkness? No Ma’an, it is not supposed to 
be used as a tanning lamp, it's all in the manual. Page 23." 


And sometimes, the product was just fine and the customer was an 
idiot. 


"Ma'am, let me transfer you to our luxomancy expert. Please hold." 
Mr. Sami rose from his cubicle, and scanned the office for the tip of 
a pointy hat. "Hey Dan, call for you on line 5! Another moron using 

the Luxetron as a tanning lamp!" 


A voice replied from the cubicle sporting the pointy tip. "Do not 
disturb Danerius the Magnificent! He is at work peering into the very 
fabric of the arcane stream!" 


"Finish your goddamn Freecell game later and answer the bloody 
phone!" 


A tall, white haired figure rose from the cubicle, the majestic 
appearance of his robes only slightly spoiled by the flowery tie he 
chose to wear over them. "You shall pay dearly for this interruption, 
Sami. | shall inflict upon you a hex most foul for this transgression!" 
His threats might have been more credible if Dan didn't make them 
every time he had to answer a call. 


"Yeah, threaten a shaman with a curse, that's a real bright idea, 
Dan. Now if you don't mind, | have another call."