>Yes 

>Yes| 

>Yes 

>Ye| 

>Y 

> 

>N 

Acknowledged. Abnormality containment procedure not 
authorized. 

>logout 

Goodbye, Commander. 

Connection closed. 


Unraveled 


"Think of reality as a tapestry. Each individual strand within that 
tapestry represents a concept within this reality construct. As in any 
fabric, these concepts are interwoven to provide a stable basis. Pick 
at one long enough and it will snag, creating highly localized 
damage to the structural integrity of reality. Keep picking at it, and 
everything unravels." 


- Excerpt from "A Layman's Introduction to Structural Reality Sciences" (1980) by 
Prof. H.D.F. van Beusekom, Ph.D. 


On 21 September 1999, hikers in the hills surrounding 
Hrastovica, Croatia discovered human remains in a cave 
system. The remains showed extensive trauma to the 
skull and brain. The following log was recovered from a 
miniaturized Solid State Drive (SSD) embedded in a 
recording device implanted directly into the temporal 
lobe. 


» Subvocal Recording System initializing ............ 
» SRS v12.1.3a ©1997 Sobremarcha Systems SA 
» System online 

» No output device detected, saving to internal drive 


» Command received: START 

» Starting recording at 1999-07-23T13:37:58+02:00 
» Ambient noise levels exceeding internal threshold 
» Noise reduction filters activated 


Watching that scroll across my retinal display is 
distracting and at the same time mind-numbingly boring. 
This thing takes so long to start up, it feels like I'm getting 
old while it boots. 


Anyway, first things first. My name is...you know what? 
I'm not even sure who I'm recording this for. I'm me, | 


think. Anyway, so, first deployment...yeah. | don't know 
how long to go in this rust bucket, so I'll...wait. 
Grabenwald is looking at me funny. 


| stared him down, don't know what his problem is 
anyway. Like | said, once again first mission time and | 
want to record this for my kids. Heh, kids. Wish | could 
do video as well, but they didn't install that shit this time 
round, so this'll have to do. What | was trying to say 
before Grabenwald went all bug-eyed on me just now is 
that I'm in a big old Mi-24P Hind-F heading to my first 
deployment, off to fight the big bad unraveling, again. 


| remember the eighties, at least, | think | do. Maybe not 
me, but it's definitely in my head somewhere. | think | 
remember people back then whining about the Russians 
nuking us to hell and back; funny thing how we were the 
ones that managed to pick so hard at the scab holding 
this piece of shit reality together that we ended up 
breaking it completely, hah. I'm guessing we'd take a 
good old-fashioned nuking over what happened any day. 


Anyway, we're en-route to some shit-hole called 
Hrastovica, supposed to be in Croatia or something. 
Reports about general faulting and distortions with 
possible extra-reality incursions, the usual. What it 
comes down to is bugs, things | can't look at for too long 
and things that have tentacles in all the wrong places. 
Doesn't matter, the stuff we have with us will take care of 
any nasties we...GODDAMN CABRERA, STOP 
FUCKING SINGING...anyway, NO, YOU DICK. Anyway, 
| just realized | probably sound jaded. Suppose | am, 
really. | don't know how many times I've done a first run, 
none of us do. All | know is that | would give anything to 
be able to turn back the clock and kick our asses, just 
stomp into that boardroom underneath Site-Alpha and 
kick their collective asses to make sure whoever came 
up with Project Arclight ends up pushing daisies, even if 
it's me. We never should have messed with those 
strands out in the Davis Strait. Let sleeping shit lie, 


people, that's your motto for today. And yesterday. And 
tomorrow, but definitely yesterday. If we had, maybe 
we'd still have more than one inhabitable continent. 
Gotta go for a moment, be right back. 


pause 


» Command received: PAUSE 
» Pausing recording at 1999-07-23T13:48:43+02:00 


» Command received: START 
» Starting recording at 1999-07-23T13:49:22+02:00 


Told you it wouldn't take long. Had to slap some sense 
into Cabrera. If he opens up with "She'll be coming round 
the mountain when she comes", | swear I'll break his 
face. Anyway, where was |? Oh yeah, no more 'murica. 
Right. Well, | got this song in my head called "Yellow 
Submarine", don't know who it's by, but they sing 
something like "We all live in a yellow submarine" or 
something, and it's pretty much like that, only instead of 
a submarine, it's Europe and it's not yellow, it's grey. 
Almost two billion people squashed together, behind 
walls that probably won't protect us when everything 
finally collapses into insanity. 


Wait a minute, MTFC is saying something. Oh, she's 
telling Cabrera to shut up. Good. Tough old fucker she 
is, twenty-four and a total veteran. I'm sixteen and if I'm 
lucky in eight years time, I'll be alive. Well, I'll be alive 
anyway, but maybe | won't. It's confusing. Anyway, heard 
she's taken so many hits there's nothing in her body that 
was there when she was hatched. 


We're about to touch down, so I'm going to have to 
actually pay some attention to what's going on. Won't 
pause, not worth it. 


Back. Had to adjust the noise reduction filter level 
though. God, this place really is a shit-hole. Houses 
cobbled together from Aircrete blocks and some kind of 


metal sheeting, goats wandering in the street, no 
asphalt, just dirt roads. Seriously, the fuck did they sent 
us now? Shit, have to go again, control estimates contact 
in six and Donovan is assing about. He's going to... 


pause 


» Command received: PAUSE 
» Pausing recording at 1999-07-23T14:18:16+02:00 


» Co nd receive STAR 

» Sta g rec ding at 1999-07-23T 14:41 :02+02:00 

» System c omised, nois ering disabl 

» Ret al display c rupted 

» Please cont t our logical Enh cemen vision at +34 9 4 
3 61 


kay, I'm goi g to have t be b ief here. Fo thos rea ng at 
ho e...fuck, th s wo 't ork. Gime asecd. 


That's better. One of my lenses got knocked off-center, | 
think. Probably damaged the nano-cables connecting 
them to the implant's core, or some other scientific- 
sounding bullshit like that. Seems to be okay now. 
Anyway, big old spatial anomaly to the face when we 
disembarked, pushing through unknown number of 
hostiles, nothing I've ever seen before, but that's not 
saying a lot. Big fuckers too, hard to focus on, look like... 
uhh...tapeworms crossed with little tornados? Doesn't 
make sense, | know, but that's the best | can do. Took 
out six of us and one gave me a nice little slap before we 
managed to neutralize them with Christophson's 
banishment gear. Sometimes I'm glad we're working with 
the GOC these days. I'd be happier if they'd stop using 
those god-awful code names. Christophson wants us to 
call him Snake. Seriously. 


Oh, MTFC wants to advance to the center of the 
anomaly, so we're moving out. I'm in the zone here, 
pulse is racing. If this is what it's like every time, sign me 
up, haha. Be back when I've got something. 


will not willingly leave SCP-984 for any reason, and will disappear if 
it is forced to do so. 


Instances of SCP-984-1 will display symptoms and mannerisms 
characteristic of a mid- to late-stage infection of rabies. However, 
unlike most rabid animals, SCP-984-1 will display marked hostility 
towards humans, particularly any persons who enter SCP-984. As 
persons in SCP-984 are not typically prepared to handle dangerous 
animals, victims are often bitten several times before being able to 
properly defend themselves. In cases where at least one specimen 
of SCP-984-1 is particularly large or strong, it is possible for 
SCP-984-1 to kill the victim shortly after manifesting. 


Should the victim survive being attacked by SCP-984-1, they will 
experience significant confusion regarding the events that transpired 
in SCP-984. In some cases, victims will attribute their injuries to 
mundane phenomena that would not normally cause said trauma. 


Footnotes 
1. Specimens have includedCanis lupis,Alces alces,Ursus arctos, 
and in one case an instance ofSCP-1000. 


« SCP-983 | SCP-984 | SCP-985 » 


pause 


» Command received: PAUSE 
» Pausing recording at 1999-07-23T 14:44:57+02:00 


» Command received: START 
» Starting recording at 1999-07-23T15:28:35+02:00 


Okay, I'm back. We had to slog through the village with 
the rain pouring down. Localized disturbances and a few 
simplex causality rifts, but nothing fancy. I'll tell you 
though, it's weird to end up looking at your own back. 
The temptation to hit that trigger is hard to control. Know 
better though. We just took cover near the entrance of 
some kind of natural cave system. 


Sound is being suppressed for some reason, getting 
hard to communicate, so we're switching to hand signals. 
Sorry, need to watch the MTFC here. 


Back, yet again. I'm good, all standard operational stuff 
for now. Looks like I'm being sent forward as a scout. 
Suits me fine. Gonna switch off again for a minute. See 


ya. 
pause 


» Command received: PAUSE 
» Pausing recording at 1999-07-23T15:33:14+02:00 


» Command received: START 
» Starting recording at 1999-07-23T15:51:12+02:00 


Right, I'm right up near the mouth of the cave. Smells like 
balls here, but that may just be Croatia for you. No sound 
anymore, so let's just say I'm glad this is a subvocal 
implant. 


I'm getting the shivers here and it's not because I'm so 
fucking hyped up on adrenaline. I'd say that something's 
not right here, but let's be honest, what the hell is right 
these days, heh. 


Oh. MTFC wants me to go in. She's leading the rest up 
the trail to my current position. Better get ready for the 
shit to hit...wait, something's emerging from thWHAT 
THE FU 


CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR 

» ERROR 392-14355: Core disconnect at <HC032> 
» Shutting down........ 

» Buenos dias 


July 23rd 1999, reality iteration X34-BH-SS1C 


In a covert facility hidden beneath the streets of The Hague, 
Foundation lab technicians were preparing O5-6#51 22 for birth. 


"Again?" a mousy-haired tech with an ungainly hunch asked. 


"Again. Can't seem to keep themselves alive, but then, that's some 
awful stuff they have to go up against,” his colleague answered. 


"| Know, but you wonder why we don't give up. Most of the earth's 
population squashed into one continent, reality breaking up around 
us...why even bother anymore, you know?" 


"Good question, Vin. If | wasn't busy doing my job I'd answer that 
that's probably just the human race for you. It doesn't give up, even 
when hope is a meaningless word." 


Senior technical assistant Vincenzo DiGatta squinted at the vat. 
"What | really want to know is why they insist on cloning themselves 
instead of sending out soldiers." 


"Well if you want to know, Meyers over in Strategic Command has a 
theory. Something about them being the ones who caused it, and 
them wanting to be the ones to solve it. Doesn't help that these days 
the peasant to professional ratio is something like a million to one." 


"So why bother?" Vincenzo said again. 


"| don't know, Vin. | just don't, okay? Let's just get this done so the 
boys in Cyber can add the mods." 


They silently watched the monitors as the cloned fetus entered a 
phase of rapidly accelerated growth. 


A World Unsaved 


Dear , 


Have you ever been out camping? As a child, while spending a night 
with other boy scouts at a camping site, I’d already started to realise 
what place we, the humans, reserved in this world. | remember that 
cold August night - heat of the campfire, long shadows of people 
around it, stretching out in all directions. The fire seemed to rise up 
to the very sky, putting the starlight out, so bright it was; sparks 
danced over its tongues. Heat burnt our faces and cold always 
chilled our backs. It was as if the world was bisected; one was 
bright, hot, locked inside a tight circle of people, the other cold and 
strange, sneaking up from behind our backs. Do you know, __, that 
Chaos is always in a leaping stance? It hides under the outer shell 
of all things, inside the shell of the world that seems so right and 
rational, but that is just a mask. Chaos is like a panther hiding in the 
bushes, tense, ready to spring. Its leap is infinite - it is flying forever, 
like an asymptote, approaching the line but never reaching it. 


First | thought that our world simply got old. God’s grown ancient 
and can’t handle His responsibilities anymore. God got crazy and in 
His crazed state He started devouring his children like Cronos. 


| thought the reason might be in the world’s deterioration - like a 
scratch on the fine surface of a CD which causes all the information 
on it to distort. | thought maybe the space-time continuum has 
simply worn out like an old cloth. And we had to mend its holes. 


Then | pondered - wasn’t the world full of what we now call 
anomalies before the civilised people came along? Wasn't it at the 
time of crowding around fires that the planet was crawling with 
unfathomable creatures? They say that now that we contain such 
creatures that could bring forth the world’s end, we cannot make the 
tiniest mistake, or breach protocol even a little. We are so certain of 
this that we consider ourselves the saviours, the atlases who carry 


the world on their shoulders. But let’s not forget that we weren't 
always here, and the sky never fell in those 14 billion years. Also 
there are the far reaches the galaxy where human, let alone the 
Foundation’s, influence doesn’t reach. What about those places? 
Does the deterioration never reach there? Does it mean that Earth is 
the source? 


That got me thinking that we, the humans, were to blame. The more 
we wear the nature out, the further our progress moves, the more 
anomalies we get. The balance has been upset somewhere. Maybe 
there are too many of us, maybe we deem ourselves more worthy 
than we deserve. Maybe when we first disturbed the structure of an 
atom by splitting it, we mortally wounded the Universe making it 
bleed. We know that before us there were multiple civilizations on 
Earth, and each of them was crushed by a new, less-developed one. 
There was a horde a barbarians for each Roman Empire. That's it, | 
thought, The number of anomalies is proportionate to the progress. 
Each new civilization that’s gone too far is wiped off the face of the 
Earth thus regulating the amount of Chaos in the world to the 
required quantity. 


And yet the ancient mysteries weren't giving me piece of mind. 
Since | had the 6th level of clearance, | already knew more than any 
of you. And the puzzle | could make out of the pieces crashed all my 
theories. 


| came to realise with bigger clarity that before us the planet was 
ruled by powers so potent that the wise men weren't aware of them. 
When we, the stubborn children, imagined ourselves the kings of 
nature, when we spread like cancer over the surface of the Earth, 
we inevitably engaged them in a conflict. We ousted them, 
proclaimed them unnatural, gave them numbers and placed them in 
cages. 


| know, dear __, that all of you were stunned by my return. You 
stopped waiting for me after all these years. The fact that | hadn’t 
aged a year made a lot of you talk about the Second Coming of the 
Administrator. No, I’m not a god, I’ve never come close to being one. 
I’m just a man who’s been where no one should be. I’ve missed a 
lot, and yet I’ve gained even more.