Through all of this, a reoccurring theme emerged — very, very few 
thought outside of the box. Very few were able to realise the truth. 
Transcript of audio logs recovered from [DATA 


EXPUNGED] 


<BeginLog, :, // > 


Frank : Alright this is Frank aboard the... uhh... 
what’re we calling this thing David? 


David (Distant): S-C-P-S [DATA EXPUNGED]. 


Frank : SCPS [DATA EXPUNGED]? Alright. This 
is... wait, really? They named it [DATA EXPUNGED] and 
we're going to... Ah whatever. This is Frank aboard 
the SCPS [DATA EXPUNGED], current time is [DATA 
REDACTED] and we're about an hour from launch. The 
Overseers have been getting these ships made for quite 
a while now, and it seems they've decided to send us out 
to take a looksee at those bits of the universe we can't 
see yet. 


I’m uhh, just a record keeper for this trip so | figured it’d 
be handy to start my keeping prior to departure. Y’know, 
in case something happens. 


Anyway, might as well start with system reports. Reactor 
is fully functioning, weapons look good... 
<BeginLog, :, // > 


Frank : Frank again. We’re about to launch, and 
seeing as nobody’s ever done this before | figured some 
like, uhh fitting words would be a good idea. 


<Frank pauses for three seconds.> 


| got nothing. Ah shoot, | should’ve thought of this 
before... 


<Frank pauses for seven seconds.> 
Oh! ‘Now we travel t-’ 


<A loud whining sound is heard, promptly followed 
by several objects colliding about the room. Frank 
produces heavily distorted vocalisations until the 
whining noise subsides.> 


Frank , (Muffled): Fucking asshats could’ve given us 
a warning before we left at least. Fucking ruined my 
speech. Fucking fuck... 


<End Log, : > 


<Begin Log, 04:18, 18/00/00> 


Frank : First and foremost: Since we don’t really 
know what the actual date is on Earth, we’ve adjusted all 
the clocks and dates and such so that we’re counting up 
from when we launched. It’s currently been... eighteen 
days, four hours aaaand... nineteen minutes, since we 
launched. We're still traveling at max throttle so there’s 
not much to see outside other than darkness, since we're 
going faster than the speed of light. Much faster. 


But erm, yeah. We recently passed... Hey David, whats 
the name of that place we just went past? Messy- 
something? Yeah but like, the closest one. Pardon? 


David (Distant): Messier Eighty-three! 


Frank : Oh, right! We've just gone past Messier 
Eighty-Three, which is about fifteen million light-years 
from Earth. Talk about being far from home, heh heh. 


David (Distant): You know the oh-fives probably 
won't appreciate your stupid jokes! 


Frank : This is just notekeeping, not the finished 
logs! Sheesh, David can be a real hard-ass sometimes. 
Though considering he spends most of his time fixing 
machines, it’s kind of understandable. 


I'll make another log once something more significant 
happens. 


<End Log, : > 


Result: 


Experiment Log 819-A-1 
Test: 
Subject: 
Results: 


lollipop and comment on any 
differences in flavor. 

Subject did not report any 
differences in flavors between the 
lollipops. Suggesting marking the 
handles on these lollipops to 
ensure there are no accidental 
mix ups. 


Red 
Effect of Consumption 
D-3634 
Subject began consuming the 
lollipop, showing no adverse 
symptoms besides development 
of mild tachycardia in the first few 
minutes. After approximately 5 
minutes, subject began to appear 
pale, with moderate tachycardia 
and reduction in difference 
between diastolic and systolic 
blood pressures. Subject became 
slightly disoriented, but was 
ordered to continue. Over several 
minutes, the subject's blood 
pressure began to drop, resulting 
in an increased heartbeat as the 
body attempted to catch up. At 10 
minutes, subject began exhibiting 
signs of hypovolaemic shock, and 
began to become less lucid as 
blood pressure dropped further. 
Subject lost consciousness less 
than 3 minutes later. The sample 
of SCP-819-A was recovered, 
2/3rds consumed. Subject expired 
1 minute after loss of 
consciousness. Autopsy showed 
cause of death was lack of blood. 


<Begin Log, 23:18, 24/02/00> 


Frank : Frank here. It’s been something like two 
months. Not much has happened, other than that we’ve 
now passed GN-Z11 so we're officially beyond the view 
of Earth's telescopes. Oh, and of course we’ve been 
taking photos as we went past. 


There’s not much out here, but we can see a few small 
galaxies spread out here and there. The higher-up 
researchers keep using the word ‘gigaparsec’ so that 
should give a fair idea of the distance between these 
things. They’ve also been mumbling about something 
seeming off about them, but other than that | can’t find 
out much. 


There’s been quite a few cases of homesickness from 
the crew on board, but nothing that won't subside over 
time. 


Any whom, everything’s holding together quite nicely, 
excluding the automatic cafeteria. Oy David, you’re 
gonna fix the cafeteria, right? 


David (Distant): No, because there’s nothing wrong 
with it! 


Frank : But the paste tastes like shit! 

David (Distant): It’s fucking nutrient paste, IT'S 
SUPPOSED TO TASTE LIKE SHIT! 

<Begin Log, 14:37, 20/03/00> 


Frank : Well, we’ve erm... we’ve found out what the 
researchers were uneased about. We're close enough to 
get a proper look at the nearest galaxy and, uhh... 


Well, it's a copy of the Milky Way. Not a perfect copy 
mind you, there’s a few stars absent but the major 
identifying bodies are there. 


We're uh, planning on taking a look to see if Earth is 
there, and if it is, look for inhabitants. Ample to say 
though, this might end up getting classified as an 
anomaly — maybe not as a full-on SCP, but at least as an 
E-dash. The chances of a replica galaxy forming are... 
well, slim to say the least. 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 06:48, 02/04/00> 
Frank : This place is definitely an anomaly. 


First it was suspicion because of how similar it was to 
our home, but like... far out, this is a whole new level of 
unnatural. On our way to the analogue of Earth we 
passed by a few of the “missing” stars and found out 
they were actually there, just messed up beyond belief. 


How messed up? Try Epsilon Bodtis... prime? Alpha? 
Whatever, the big one? It’s made of ice cream. We took 
a sample — tastes like avocados and cigarette smoke, 
apparently. The smaller one is a ball of liquid chlorophyll, 
somehow managing to keep itself together. 


Antares is just solid iodine. No fire, no iron, nothing. Just 
a colossal, cold ball of iodine. Proxima Centauri is made 
of charcoal too. 


Then of course, we actually got to ‘Earth’ — Most of us 
have taken to calling it ‘Sub-Prime’. It’s just a giant ball of 
fuck-ups and errors. You can see it’s Earth, all the 
continents are there and shaped right, but they’re made 
of the wrong stuff. Australia’s a solid block of gold, the 
oceans glow blue, the whole American continent is made 
of maple syrup... 


We're collecting as much information as we can, then 
we're shoving off to the next galaxy. This is just... too 
freaky. 


In other news, it’s come to light that Marie _is 
pregnant. Nobody’s asking many questions about it, 
especially ‘coz we aren't entirely sure it’s her husband's 
child. Sooo... yeah. 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 07:48, 02/05/00> 
Frank : What the actual, flying, fuck. 


We've arrived at the next closest galaxy, and it’s the 
same thing. Another screwed-up copy of the Milky Way. 
Screwed up in different ways, mind you, but still basically 
the same thing as before. 


Mercury is made of ice, Jupiter is made of edible jelly. 
Earth looks like a Sarkic utopia — all of it’s flesh, bone 
and blood. We've decided it’s probably not best to 
approach, in case it doesn’t like machinery. But 
nonetheless... 


We're hoping it’s just these two, but we’re doubtful. What 
the hell is happening out here? 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 12:01, 17/05/00> 


Frank : Note to self. Bring more puzzles and toys on 
next trip. I’ve run out. 


<Frank pauses for four seconds.> 


Bagh, I'd better put something worthwhile here. Ahh... 
Crew are ok. We're coming to terms with the fact the 
third galaxy we’re going to arrive at looks like a repeat of 
the first two. There’s nothing major about it, it’s just 
freaky to think this same anomaly repeats itself as far as 
we can see. 


Oh, there was an incident last week. Johnathan was 
fixing some strange mechanical fault lower down when 
somethin’ came loose and broke his arm. It’s been fixed 
now though, and the doctors said he’d be fine in a few 
weeks. He swears it shouldn't have happened, so there’s 
some investigations happening. 


Nothing further | can think of. You remember anything | 
‘aint? 


<It is assumed that Frank was speaking to David 
, who responded with an inaudible or nonverbal 
respose.> 


Alright. Ending log. 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 01:59, 07/06/00> 


Frank : Another copy of the Milky Way. Not big 
surprise. 


Is this all that there is out here? Just endless copies of 
home, each more messed up than the previous? 


<Frank pauses for three seconds.> 


Earth was made of some sort of glass this time. Mars 
was made of dry ice. Uranus was horrifically magnetic — 
we almost got severely screwed over. 


Nothing to do but keep going. 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 00:00, 30/08/00> 


Frank : Two more. There’s no way these places 
aren't part of the same anomaly somehow. 


Speaking of anomalies, there’s shittons of them out here. 
There’s a whole galaxy we can’t approach, always 
seeming distant, another that the computers won't pick 
up at all but we can rather clearly see. 


There’s even been a few times when space itself has 
been talking to us. I’m not insane, we picked it up and 
narrowed it to certain pockets of space. There’s other 
times when we suddenly don’t have enough power an 
we'll drift for quite a distance before everything kicks 
back up again like nothing happened. 


Is the universe flat? Are we falling off the edge or 
something? 


<Frank pauses for four seconds.> 


Before | forget, Marie’s been quarantined for some 
reason. We aren't able to get much from security, but it 
seems she’s accidentally smuggled some disease onto 
the ship. Hope the baby is alright. 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 05:14, 10/10/00> 


Frank : The most recent Earth, err... Sub-Prime-Ten 
| think, it’s got signs of human civilization. Specifically, 
ours. 


There’s like... Las Vegas is there, made entirely of 
stacked poker chips and playing cards. New York is this 
one, huge piece of obsidian that looks like it’s rather 
conveniently eroded to be identical to the New York back 
home. 


There’s no humans, mind you. No signs of life at all, and 
considering the oceans are pure hydrogen cyanide it’s 
probably best that nothing evolved to survive that. 


Why aren’t we being copied if our homes are too? 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 16:05, 18/11/00> 


Frank : Tokyo is made of seaweed and is located at 
the north pole. 


America is made of a solid block of gunpowder, with 
Chicago being made of a giant, carved mango. 


The sun is encompassed in a shell of chitin, and is 
colonised by vast hordes of stone that shift and move 
whenever we stop looking at them. 


Mars is made of camel leather and a single raging 
immortal walks its surface. 


Uranus is nothing but a silent lattice of turning gears. 


There is nothing out here but chaos and anarchy. We’re 
doing a loop to head back home. 


Security around Marie has been beefed up. Twenty 
guards all armed to the teeth with assault rifles and 
grenades? What sort of disease has she contracted? 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 23:17, 23/12/00> 
David : -ck fuck fuck fuck fuck... 


This is David. Frank is dead, along with most of the crew. 
Marie gave birth to some fucked-up eldritch horror that’s 
been running around and killing everyone it can. |...fuck, 
| don’t think security can handle it. Of all the fucking 
times for something like this... fuck! 


Whatever this place is, Keep away. It’s a cesspool of 
anomalies, there’s nothing out here but shit replicas of 


our galaxy, and it just keeps going and going and going. 


Whatever this place is made of, it sure as hell isn’t 
reality. It just keeps expanding, growing more and more 
fl- 


<David pauses for two seconds.> 


Of course. Why wouldn't it with [DATA EXPUNGED] 
outside. Did the Overseers already know what we would 
find? Or did they just want it confirmed? 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 02:02, 14/03/01> 


David : Cafeteria is busted, only spits out rat poison. 
We're not going to make it, but the ship will. 


| don’t think we went far enough for the ship to get 
warped too badly. We haven't seen any other anomalies 
on board, other than the cafeteria fault. 


< David pauses for four seconds. > 
At least tell my family | loved them. 


<End Log> 


<Begin Log, 00:00, 00/00/00> 


< The audio in the log is assumed to be automated 
as it is entirely comprised of fragments of audio 
used in previous logs. Changes in audio are denoted 
by line breaks. > 


Frank : This is Frank aboard the SCPS [DATA 
EXPUNGED], 

we've adjusted all the clocks and dates and such so that 
we're counting up from 


now, 
Since we don’t really know what the actual date is on 
Earth, 


First and foremost: 

the crew on board is fully functioning, 
we're going faster than 

max throttle 

Much faster. 

everything’s holding together quite nicely, 


There’s been quite a few cases of homesickness from 
the crew on board, 
We're doing a loop to head back home. 


There’s not much out here, 

Just endless copies of home, each more messed up than 
the previous? 

There’s no humans, mind you. 


You remember anything | ‘aint? 

Oh, right! 

Oh, there was an incident last week. 
It's been fixed now though 

Crew are ok. 

nothing that wont subside over time. 


Any whom, everything’s 
ok. 

everything’s 

Alright 

I’m not insane, 

right? 


David : Of course. 
David (Distant): there’s nothing wrong 
Frank : Anyway, 


we're 
coming to 


Messier Eighty-Three, 


Talk about being far from home, heh heh. 
Sooo... yeah. 


<End Log> 


The information collected and the names listed would never see the 
light of day. It would have been sent directly to the highest echelons 
of the Foundation, who listened, considered and acted. It wouldn't 
have taken a genius to connect the implications between the facts 
and the records, so every bit of it was expunged or redacted so that 
the Administrator's efforts would not be in vain. It would have been 
as though the expedition never happened, as though it was simply 
an anomaly that appeared unexpectedly. The information would 
never be seen by a human eye again until it was once more 
unveiled by fate, buried simply to hide the truth. 


What is the easiest way to hide the identity of SCP-001, the architect 
of the universe and its infinite hordes of flaws? 


Don’t classify it as SCP-001. 


<< ??? || The Architect || ??? » 


Code Brown 


“This is a bad idea,” mutters Dr. Jack Bright, currently in the body of 
a 54 year old Jewish butcher, who had been sentenced to death for 
killing his wife, and using her body as extra stuffing in his meat pies. 
This body was the closest to being what might be considered his 
own, even if it did knock a few decades off his age. He slides into a 
seat at the large table, trying to get comfortable. He’d been female 
for the past several months, and slipping into a differently gendered 
host always made him feel like bits were hanging out where they 
shouldn't.