As Bumaro picked up the hammer, their fight continued. They 
exchanged blows and Ion grew agitated with every passing second. 
He grew extra limbs to fend off Bumaro’s attack, but this only made 
him more vulnerable to exposure. Before long, he had to spend all 
his energy to keep the metallic infection from spreading, and could 
no longer quickly regenerate or conjure more weapons. 


There was a dull sound of metal piercing through flesh as Bumaro 
nailed lon to the ground with the sharp end of his hammer. The 
Grand Karcist struggled ineffectually. This time, it was his turn to 
cough out blood. As Bumaro grabbed onto him, lon decided to give 
up and focus attention to him instead. 


“I've trusted you with aid and knowledge, but you only used that to 
commit great evil,” Bumaro held up his hand, and the blade attached 
to it shined from the flames on the battlefield. “I shall allow this no 
more.” 


lon gave out a mocking laugh, which was interrupted abruptly as the 
cold blade cut cleanly through his throat. The Karcist's head fell off. 
At the same moment, in the battlefield, the Archon let out a shriek. 
Space twisted once more, and its shapes suddenly blurred and 
faded. The flames died down, and the meat abominations collapsed 


back into individual mutated torsos. The Mekhanites regrouped and 
started to fight back. 


Bumaro coughed, and blood trickled down, but this time, it was silver 
instead of red. He reached out and picked up lon’s head from the 
ground. 


The head was still breathing, but as the metallic illness crept upon 
his wounds, the struggle to regenerate was futile. Without a throat, 
lon could no longer speak, but in some sharp, hollow tone, he 
laughed and laughed. His mouth twisted into a smirk and he stared 
at the one who had him defeated. 


Bumaro ignored this. He walked up to the high point of the hill, 
where the three beasts had now ceased breathing. Holding the head 
up high, he spoke, but not with sounds a human can hear. And as if 
waiting for the signal, all the metallic giants moved into their pre- 
planned formation, and released fires and furies upon their enemies. 
Seeing this, the Mekhanites elders sang prayer and operated the 
devices they had prepared. 


Between the dark clouds, lighting struck down one by one, in quick 
successions. Soon, they weaved a giant web of light, covering the 
sky. Before long, it was too blinding for human eyes to see and too 
deafening for human ears to hear, but the space twisted in a way 
that everyone could feel. Bumaro watched in silence as the 
clockwork in him ground and shifted, as his metallic fingers dug into 
the skin of lon’s head. 


And then, the light died down. The Grand Karcist was no more, and 
his army and his city were both gone. Banished from this reality to 
the next, through the same path the Archon had come from. 


The thick dark clouds fell from the sky as raindrops, carrying what 
was left of the poisonous smoke down with them. The rain came 
swiftly as the final sound of thunder rang out, washing away the little 
residue of the horrifying Sarkic kingdom. 


Bumaro lowered his arm, and in his hands, only a skull remained. 
And as the power of God’s Blood touched the last bit of it, the head 
of the Grand Karcist collapsed into fine metal dust, and was soon 


flushed away by the rain. 


Excerpts From The Societal Census Programme QOK- 
Class Report 


Prelude 


Since the advent of the OK-Class ("End-Of-Death") 
Scenario, the Foundation has launched a campaign to 
reevaluate baseline behavior of humanity. 


To perform this census, the Foundation has created a 
new front organization, the Societal Census Programme. 
This organization will perform a census focused around 
reconfiguring the definition of baseline human behavior, 
and identifying new forms of fluctuation from said 
baseline behavior. Updated standards for what 
constitutes unusual and possibly anomalous activity will 
better streamline the Foundation's ability to detect and 
assess anomalies. 


The division enlisted the aid of government organizations 
to properly attain subjects for the census. Due to the 
benign and public nature of the census, civilians are 
were hired for positions without security clearance 
requirements. 


This report consists of data collected across 53 
countries, of approximately 150,000 individuals. The 
census had an 83% response rate, and 0.74% agreed to 
conduct a follow up interview. 


Survey Response #4,142 


Name: Alex Thayer 


Age: 78 


Gender: Male 


Place Of Residence: 9041, Pine Street, Calgary, 
Canada 


Living Immediate Family: 


« Molly Thayer: Age 76, Significant Other 
¢ Patrick Thayer: Age 32, Son 


[BEGIN LOG] 
Interviewer: Hello Mr. Thayer. 
Thayer: Oh please. No need to be formal. Alex will do. 


Interviewer: Alright, Alex, I'd like to ask you some 
questions about any life style changes you've had over 
the course of the past few years. 


Thayer: By past few years | assume you're talking about 
since the, uh... the thing. 


Interviewer: Since people stopped dying, yes. 


Thayer: Well, | can't think of much in particular honestly. 
Things 'round here feel pretty normal. 


Interviewer: Not even a new exercise routine? 


Thayer: Heh, | guess there's that. Molly and | have been 
trying to stay in shape a little longer, since we're stuck in 
these bodies. It's a little scary to think about, but its also 
calming. 


Interviewer: Calming? 


Thayer: Definitely. | haven't come to terms with dying. 
Now | won't have to. 


Interviewer: | see. 


Thayer: | don't think about it much though. Too surreal. 
When | was little my parents reminded me a bunch that | 
needed to be good to go to heaven after | die. | 
remember going to funerals for my parents, and some of 
my friends. But now, all of that's moot. Can't go to 
heaven if you're still alive. Can't have a funeral if no 
one's dying. 


Interviewer: Of course. 


Thayer: Umm... | think that's all | really got to say. You 
have anymore questions? 


Interviewer: Not really. This was quite insightful. 
Thayer: Well, I'm glad to hear it. I'll be on my way then. 
Interviewer: Thank you for your time. 

[END LOG] 

Survey Response #59,306 

Name: Erica Duville 

Age: 47 

Gender: Female 


Place Of Residence: 2240, Barrel Street, Louisiana, 
United States Of America 


Living Immediate Family: 


¢ Michael Duville: Age 46, Significant Other 
¢ Megan Duville: Age 15, Daughter 

¢ Rachel Wicker: Age 49, Sister 

¢ John Wicker: Age 83, Father 


[BEGIN LOG] 


Interviewer: Hello Mrs. Duville. Thanks for joining me. 


Duville: Oh, it's no problem. | had nothing planned for 
this afternoon anyways. Honestly, I've had quite a few 
more empty afternoons over the past few years. 


Interviewer: Why so? 


Duville: Well, since Mike is out at work all day, I'm the 
only one who can stay home and look after dad. Just 
kind of be around to make sure nothing happens and 
that he gets something to eat. 


Interviewer: How old is your dad? 
Duville: Eighty-three. 


Interviewer: Ah, so you used to look after him in case of 
medical complications? 


Duville: | mean, | still do, it's just less intense, you 
know? | got him one of those life alert buttons, and he's 
got me on speed dial, but there's no need to worry. Like, 
we can finally go on vacation again! We went to Hawaii 
last year. It was just so... tropical! And we knew it was all 
fine because if dad had another stroke we could just 
bring him to the hospital when we got home. 


Interviewer: A stroke? 


Duville: Why yes! We used to be paranoid about them. 
I'd have my hand on the phone all the time, just in case. 
But now, we can just take him to the hospital and he'll be 
back out in a few weeks. They do one of those 
treatments where they, uh... something about replacing 
the dead parts with, um, with stem cells! That's right. 
Needs a little rehab and P.T. afterwards, but he comes 
out alright. 


Interviewer: | see. Does your dad have strokes often? 


Duville: Oh, not too often. Maybe once or twice a year. 


Interviewer: | would imagine it gets fairly expensive. 


Duville: Actually, insurance pays for pretty much all of it. 
Besides, if it did make a dent if our budget, we have 
money. | don't care if my dad talks less than he used to, 
and gets confused, and falls down a little more, he's still 
my dad. I'd pay anything for him. 


Interviewer: Of course. | think that this is enough for our 
records. Thank you for your time. 


Duville: No problem! And thank you for the excuse to 
get out of the house. 


[END LOG] 
Survey Response #131 ,223 


Name: Dani Marquez 
Age: 26 
Gender: Non-binary 


Place of Residence: GC2491, Carer de Barcelona, 
Barcelona, Spain 


Living Immediate Family: 


¢ Enrique Marquez: Age 31, Brother 
¢ Angela Marquez: Age 53, Mother 
¢ Miguel Marquez: Age 53, Father 


Note: the original interview was held in Spanish, and 
later translated to English. 

[BEGIN LOG] 

Interviewer: Evening Dani. 


Marquez: Hi! 


SCP-941: Carsickness 


Item #: SCP-941 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: Samples of each substrain of 
SCP-941 are kept in secure frozen storage at Bio-Research Area- . 
Embedded agents are to provide regular reports of apparent 
infections, with special attention paid to atypical cases that may 
indicate novel strains. Any strain thought to be potentially capable of 
jumping to living organisms or to diesel vehicles is to be treated as a 
Class Biohazard threat, and contained or sterilized immediately. All 
standard measures, including incendiary and [REDACTED] are 
permitted if necessary. 


Because SCP-941 was already widespread at the time of its initial 
discovery, it currently continues to exist outside containment in the 
general vehicle population. As such, current containment efforts are 
focused on suppression of information regarding SCP-941 and 
research into methods of treating, curing, and/or preventing infection 
by SCP-941. Details may be found in Document 941- . 


Foundation-owned vehicles are to be, whenever possible, diesel- 
fueled or electrically powered. 


Description: SCP-941 is a virus of the family Orthomyxoviridae 
(tentatively classified [REDACTED]) which exclusively affects 
vehicles powered at least in part by an internal combustion engine. 
Infected vehicles suffer a variety of seemingly random malfunctions, 
typically manifesting over a period of three to five days, then fading 
over a further two to five days. Once a case of SCP-941 has run its 
course, the vehicle will display no further symptoms unless it is later 
reinfected. The mechanism by which SCP-941 causes these 
malfunctions is still undetermined. 


While different subjects often manifest different symptoms, most ( 


Interviewer: So, | just wanted to ask you— 
Marquez: Actually— uh, sorry didn't mean to interrupt. 
Interviewer: No, it's fine. 


Marquez: | just wanted to know how long you thought 
this was going to take? | want to make sure that I'm not 
going to accidentally flake on a thing tonight. 


Interviewer: Shouldn't take too long. May | ask what 
"thing" you have planned? 


Marquez: Oh, it's like... have you heard of the new water 
lung thing? 


Interviewer: It sounds familiar, but | could use a 
refresher. 


Marquez: Like, it's this thing where a bunch of people 
meet up somewhere on the shore and like... just walk 
into the water. You get these weighed down shoes so 
you don't accidentally float up, and you walk into the 
ocean along the sea floor. No oxygen tank or anything 
either. 


Interviewer: So you willingly drown yourself? 


Marquez: | mean... yeah but it's not as weird as that 
sounds. Like, you get these weird drugs too that 
suppress your gag reflex, and, like whatever makes you 
want to gasp for air. So you just let the water fill your 
body and its like, its peaceful. At least that's what I've 
been told. You eventually blackout though and they send 
some people in to drag you to shore. Next thing you 
know you're back on the beach feeling super cleansed 
because they just pumped, like, 4 liters of water out of 
your system. 


Interviewer: And you pay for this? 


Marquez: | mean, they gotta make money somehow. It's 


not like it's super expensive or anything either. A lot less 
expensive than some of the other crazy shit I've heard 
people do to relax. Like, you read about those two dudes 
who just threw themselves off the Torre Mapfire?1 


Interviewer: | remember seeing on the news, yeah. 


Marquez: They said they wanted to do it for "the thrill of 
falling". The surgery cost them an arm and a leg, which 
they couldn't even pay because they broke all of theirs! 


Interviewer: | imagine their insurance didn't cover it? 


Marquez: Not in the slightest. Especially because their 
provider was Mapfire! 


Interviewer: [laughs] | didn't remember that part from the 
reports! 


Marquez: Oh shit. My buddies just texted me... 
apparently they moved our time slot up another thirty 
minutes. | gotta go. 


Interviewer: That's fine, | have more than enough 
information. Thanks for your time. 


Marquez: No problem. Later man! 

[END LOG] 

Partial List of Baseline Changes 

Below is a subset of the proposed changes to the 


definition of baseline behavior for human subjects on a 
global scale. 


Activity Oid AiL2 New AiL 
Living for>100 | Moderate-Low Extreme-Low 
years 
Grieving/Mournirnig Extreme-Low Moderate-Low 
Prolonged SurvivalModerate Moderate-Low 


with Dangerous 


Medical 

Conditions 

Attempting to High-Moderate Moderate-Low 
Drown Oneself 

Attending a Extreme-Low Extreme-High 
Funeral 


Footnotes 
1. A 40-story-tall skyscraper in Barcelona. 
2. Anomaly Indicator Level. 


Solace 


| restlessly tapped my desk as | watched the clock in my office. It 
slowly, agonizingly marched forward with a constant rhythm that 
only served to accentuate the emptiness of the room. Save the 
ticking, there was no sound. There was no furniture in the room save 
for a desk, an essentially empty filing cabinet in the corner, and a 
little potted plant resting on top. One of the other researchers, 
Brandt, | think, gave it to me when | joined up. | could never 
remember what it was...he said something like succubus? 
Succulent? Whatever. The wall still bore marks from when it had 
held a calendar and a picture of my parents. | couldn’t be bothered 
to get a new calendar this year, and the picture of my parents now 
rested on my desk next to my terminal, leaving the wall with only my 
clock to keep it company. 


| Knew it was just me. | Knew that there was nothing making me 
uncomfortable. It was just me. Or rather, the box. This is where 
suspending the testing had gotten me. One year of daily exposure to 
a cognitohazard can do weird things to your head. 


| sighed, and started to get up. There wasn’t really any resisting it, 
anymore. | never felt at ease unless | was in the observation room, 
surrounded by its music. | switched off the lights in my office, and 
started off towards the Light Containment Zone. Wincing, | clutched 
my head. Just thinking about that damn box was enough to give me 
a splitting headache. 


The lift dinged that familiar ding as the polished metal doors slid 
open. | stepped inside and absentmindedly flashed my ID up to the 
sensor before pushing the button for the LCZ. This was a daily 
process now at minimum, the walk over becoming something akin to 
second nature. 


The lift slid to a stop with yet another ding, and freed me. On my 
way out, | almost stumbled into a fellow researcher, Jordan Anais, 
Level 3. 


He paused and let his arm fall to his side, clasping his ever-present 
clipboard. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Caleb?” he asked, leaning on his left 
leg. It was always his left. 


“Oh, well, I’ve been fine. Yourself?” | replied, hardly pausing to give 
my words any thought.