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lt was real. It existed. It was happy. 


Epilogue 


"| have to admit," Alison Chao said, surveying the crowd below, "| 
didn't expect that outcome." 


Next to her, Sigurrés Stefansdottir kicked her feet. "I couldn't kill it. | 
had to make it real." 


"You realize that's never been done before, right?" Alison asked. 
"The Neverwere can‘tbe truly real. That's their defining factor. It 
just... breaks the laws of the universe to say otherwise." 


"Maybe the problem is with the laws of the universe, then," Sigurrés 
said. 


Alison laughed. "You're entirely too precocious for your own good, 
you know? Maybe one day soon you'll be a god asking me to bring 
burnt offerings to your altar." 


Sigurrés frowned. "No," she said. "I'm not gonna become a god. I'm 
just... me." 


"Maybe so," Alison said. "Not a god, not a demon. A witch girl. | 
approve of that. You know, that reminds me. Septima wrote you 
some poetry." 


"She did?" Sigurrés' mouth formed a perfect "o". That little kid was 
really too adorable for her own good, sometimes. "Tell me!" 


"The Witch Child and her children stood on the Jailors' ground," 
Alison began. 


"There to fight the enemy, the Neverwere. 


"For the Witch Child is the only thing that can prevent the unmade 
from unmaking. 


"And lo, did Sigur make the Neverwere made. 


"And lo, did they become defined and real, 
"Their torments as half-truths and ephemera ended, 


"For the only thing that can end the torture of half-existence is 
existence. 


"By Septima Varan, the High Enchantress, and Ever-Faithful 
Follower of The Woman With Stars In Her Eyes. 


"That last part still means you. Septima seemed very insistent on 
that particular title." 


Sigurrés smiled and clapped her hands. "It was only one Neverwere, 
though." 


"Artistic license," Alison said. "You know, you really could be quite 
the god if you wanted to." 


"Nope," Sigurrés said. 


"So you're sure you want to go back to the Foundation after this," 
Alison said. "Go back to your half-real coma?" 


"Yes," Sigurrés said. "| have... unfinished business. Not ready to 
leave yet. And | have friends there." 


"Friends." 

"Yup." 

"Suit yourself," Alison said. "Let me know if you change your mind." 
"Okay." 


"So..." Alison continued. "We made a bargain, didn't we? You 
performed me a service, | need to perform you a service. That's the 
rules of magical bargains. Even exchange. Makes the whole 
universe balance out. And | am told that | am a woman who makes 
good on her bargains." 


Sigurrés wore a huge grin. "Yup." 


Alison looked down from their perch atop the archway entrance to 
Disneyland. "Which ride would you like to go on first?" 


"I've always wanted to see the Pirates of the Caribbean," Sigurrés 
said. 


"That one's cool," Alison said. "Jungle Cruise is better." 

"That's the one with rainforest animals, right?" 

"Yup." 

"Only if you let me turn all the animals real for a minute." 

"No. Definitely not." 

"Just for a second! Promise!" 

"Fine," Alison said. "But only for one second. No further. Deal?" 
"Deal," Sigurrés said. 

"Alright." Alison stood up. "Let's go to Disneyland." 

And so they did. 


End. 


« Showtime 


Ship In A Bottle Hub 


Year: 2056 


Dew Birch Jewish Temple, approximately 20 miles 
from Site-17 


"He inspired me to start sucking dick," sobbed Draven 
Kondraki in the front pew of the funeral service. His 
boyfriend reached out a hand and patted his leg 
comfortingly, nodding solemnly in response to the 
sentiment; he could confirm that the child of the 
deceased was an incredible bottom. 


"He was so good at breathing," whimpered Alto Clef 
tearfully from beside them. The staffers around the 
widower nodded. Benjamin Kondraki had been good at 
breathing. 


"Once, he punched me in the face for the last doughnut," 
cried the newly appointed Director Moose. "Jesus Christ, 
I'm gonna miss him so much." 


"This is a Jewish service, Tilda," Director Bright 
whispered in her ear from the proceeding pew, as if to 
clarify. Dr. Rights eloowed him sharply in the ribs in 
response. 


As the Rabbi finished the sermon and walked to the 
casket, the small group of assembled family and friends 
fell silent. Some final words were said- something about 
the power of love and God- and then called the 
pallbearers up to the altar, intending to carry the casket 
to the small cemetery outside. Solemnly, the attending 
began to close the lid- 


CRUNCH 


There was a brief moment of confusion among the 
occupants of the Temple at the sound- plastic and rough. 
The casket lid would not close. It was held aloft by an 
empty two liter pop bottle affixed to the penis of the 
diseased. 


"The med team couldn't get it off!" wailed Draven. 


55-year-old Foundation Director Benjamin Kondraki 
awoke from the very specific but not quite unlikely 
nightmare in a cold sweat, in his home in the present 
day, very much alive, with four hours to his shift. 
Fumbling for the switch, he turned on his lamp and 
yanked up his boxers to double check. All there 
remained of the incident was a bag of frozen peas to 
numb the soreness. He breathed a sigh of relief. The 
newly-purchased Tenga Egg pocket pussy on his 
nightstand lost its balance and fell to the floor with a sad 
and lonely thud. 


Accursed Texts (In order of 
publication) 


Second Date by thefriendlyvandal 
Third Date by DrClef 

No Dating at Work by TroyL 

Coffee Date by Aggressive Pepsi 
Group Date by Captain Kirby 
Electronic Data by Doctor Cimmerian 
"I'm dying." "Is it blissful?" by Decibelles 
Text Message in a Bottle by DrChandra 
Waffle Date by Blaroth 

How not to Misappropriate Foundation Resources by 
DrMagnus 


Rules Of Dickgagement 


. This is not lolfoundation, and the bottles involved are not 
anomalous; nor is itan anomalous phenomenon or anything 
along those lines. The purpose of bottledick is not to create 
humor (although that's a secondary thing), but in fact to point 
out something usually missed about Foundation characters: 
they are humans. Humans which can be dumbasses. 
Bottledick is a canon with a message about people at its core. 
. Clef and Kondraki must be dating or have dated in the past. 
This is to piss off one (1) homophobe that is really, really 
angry about this canon existing. It doesn't need to be super 
explicit, it's just a Thing. 

. Kondraki must have gotten an Aquafina brand water bottle 
stuck on his penis. This is because Kondraki is a very smart 
man who is also an impulsive dumbass. His legacy is the core 
of this canon. 

. Mild crack is allowed, but more extreme crack belongs in 
lolfoundation. 


Electronic Data 


The weight of the statement fell heavy on the room. A dozen 
researchers in various technical fields shifted uncomfortably in their 
seats as Director Foster looked around the conference table. 


Dr. Cimmerian spoke up from his seat in the back of the room. "So 
what you're telling us is that you don't know where it is." 


Researcher Rosen nodded into his hands. 


Director Foster shook his head. "Fantastic. Walk us through the 
process of how we lost a top secret two million dollar Al on the 
internet." 


Researcher Rosen looked up and countered, "Well that's not exactly 
what's happened. The Al is missing for the moment but it's 
programmed to come back to Foundation controlled servers after 
two days without contact." 


Director Foster broke in, "Just tell us what happened.” 


"Right." Researcher Rosen pushed his glasses up his nose. 
"Following the success of AIAD, we began work on a new 
generation of site Als that aren't based on 2987-1. Are any of you 
familiar with the Jarvis framework?" 


"| worked with it at Site-17 for a bit," Dr. Cimmerian answered. "Can 
| just say that when we complained that Jarvis was a ridiculous 
name we never really considered you'd go with something as silly as 
the 'Robotic Interface and Computing Heuristic Advanced Research 
Database’ for your next iteration." 


Rosen looked around nervously and continued. "The point is that the 
Jarvis framework is useful but it's a truer Al. It doesn't interact with 
humans the same way that Alex and Glacon do." 


Dr. Hopper raised his hand to interject. "We've been moving away 
from the human-like approach for a while now. The Foundation 
needs a cold and dispassionate Al as much as we need human 
based problem solving." 


"Yes." Rosen nodded vigorously. "But the flip side is that we can't 
acclimate the Al to the world with human interaction, it has no use 
for that kind of data. What it requires is information." 


Director Foster frowned. "Your solution to that was to let it loose on 
the internet?" 


"Since it went dark," Rosen continued, "we ran a battery of tests with 
other RICHARD iterations and we think we figured out the problem." 


"Enlighten us, then?" Dr. Cimmerian barked. 


"Right. Uh, web development hasn't really caught up with our 
programming just yet, and we made several errors in how the Al 
interacts with non-Foundation databases." 


Dr. Hopper raised his hand again before breaking in. "It turns out 
that Python web frameworks interact oddly with the Al. We still don't 
understand what went wrong, exactly, but we're working on it." 


Researcher Rosen glared at Dr. Hopper before interrupting. "We're 
fairly certain it's either the CherryPy, TwistedWeb or Bottle 
framework that trapped the Al in a recursive loop." 


Director Foster scowled. "Get it back. Cimmerian is the first wave of 
‘shit gets real’." Dr. Cimmerian saluted from the back of the room. 
"You don't want to be here when the next guy comes." 


Rosen gulped. "I promise, our contingency programming should be 
foolproof. It'll return to our servers before the end of tomorrow." 


Director Foster stood up from his chair. "| want a new contingency 
plan on my desk by the end of today in case that doesn't happen." 


Everyone except for Dr. Cimmerian stood up along with Foster and 
began to file out of the room with shuffling steps. Once the room 
was empty, Foster sat in his chair and looked down the conference 


table. 


"It's really great to see you again, by the way," Dr. Cimmerian 
began. "Sheila still teaching?" 


Director Foster laughed. "She's actually an assistant principal now. If 
she finds out you're in town she's gonna try to set you up with 
someone." 


"I'm moving around too much to settle down but I'll bear it if she 
makes spaghetti for dinner." 


"She'd love that, | bet. Though you don't gotta settle down to find 
someone for a little while." 


"Fair. But interoffice romance has never been my strong suit." 
"Shit. You remember the fallout from Clef and Kondraki's thing?” 


Dr. Cimmerian's eyes went wide. "Dude. Do you realize you guys 
got your Dick stuck in a bottle?" 


« Four Stories Told In Order | Rammer Jammer Yellow 
Hammer Hub | All About That Base » 


"It's Like a Dream..." 


Dr. Simon Glass twirled the pen around in his left hand. Finger 
through finger through finger. Back and forth, back and forth. After 
five journeys around his hand, he gave the pen a flick and it 
effortlessly fell into his right. Finger through finger. Back and forth. 
The movements were just fancy enough that clients caught off-guard 
would be mesmerized by it. It was a trick he had picked up from 
Diogenes on a slow Halloween some years back, and ever since 
then it was his main way of stimming. Oftentimes, it was his natural 
response to anything particularly overwhelming or anxiety-inducing. 


Across from him sat Benjamin Kondraki. 


"So you..." He couldn't finish the statement. It was absurd. Utterly 
nonsensical. It was Kondraki. He knew better than to trust him at 
face value. 


"Yeah." Kondraki rarely sounded defeated and embarrassed. Antics 
that would otherwise — "That's right, Simon." — mortify any regular 
Foundation employee just ended — "| did exactly that." — up 
emboldening him even more. Somehow, he — "They should have 
given you the records already." — was the most proud of stupid shit. 


Glass looked up from his notes at Kondraki. The Lizard Rider’. The 
Butterfly King. The King Of Kings. 


He looked defeated. 


Glass sighed, opening a cabinet and taking out Kondraki's medical 
folders with his right hand while writing with the other. He didn't have 
to look. No need to look when you can memorize instead. In the 
front of the top folder were his most recent medical records. After 26 
years of Foundation duty, the layout of every single letter from the 
medical wing and its contents for any number of announcements, 
emergencies, and tests were predictable enough to memorize. Just 
swap out skip numbers, or personnel names, or locations. There 


SCP-715: My Face That I May Be 


Warning: The followin: 
level 715/5 Cla: 


Part of this document may 
without the proper secu 


Item #: SCP-715 
Object Class: Safe Keter Safe 


Special Containment Procedures [OUTDATED: SEE BELOW]: 
SCP-715 is to be contained at its point of origin within the City 
Mall in , Ohio. Remote surveillance of SCP-715 has been 
authorized, and any images produced by SCP-715 are to be 
collected by Foundation personnel posing as mall employees. These 
images are to be returned to Site-81 for further examination. 


Keter Class Containment Procedure Amendment [OUTDATED: 
SEE BELOW]: SCP-715 is to be contained within a maximum 
security large item locker at Site-19. Access to SCP-715 is limited to 
personnel with 715/4 Special Clearance or above. Under no 
circumstances are any personnel, regardless of classification level, 
to enter or activate SCP-715 in any way. Examination of the interior 
of SCP-715 is to be done by a remotely controlled drone only. 


Instances of SCP-715-B are considered Class V Cognitohazardous 
Entities, and due to their nature cannot be properly identified without 
the use of optical enhancement technology. Instances of SCP-715-B 
are to be terminated immediately upon identification using whatever 
means necessary. 


were two — no, three — words that stuck out immediately. Did he 
not read these when he got them? 


"So. Your..." 

"Please, Simon. Please." 
"Your penis." 

"Yeah." 

"It was stuck there." 
"Mmhmm." 


"There was a water bottle stuck on your penis." No response. Back 
and forth, finger through finger. "You've never been this quiet before 
when recounting your shenanigans." Kondraki swore. Glass never 
bothered to learn Polish, but he was pretty sure there were at least 
two instances of the word ‘fuck’ strewn in there. "Where do you want 
to start with this?" 


"| mean... fuck, why was it this one to get the O5 interested? 
Nothing about the cafeteria bullshit last year! Cleffles — " Glass 
snorted, thankful Kondraki wouldn't hear it. It was still adorable to 
hear, and he was the only other person in the world graced with the 
pet name whenever his client got worked up into a sudden tirade. 
Cleffles. "— gets scolded by..." 


"Iceberg?" 


"Fuck no, I'm still not calling him that," he spat. "Anyway, him, of all 
people, for his zero-fifty heist. But | put a dick, my dick, in a bottle 
and this? | was mortified. | just couldn't keep up my pride. Have you 
ever seen Gears look disappointed in someone? Me neither, but 
during that assembly yesterday he looked right into my eyes by 
accident, and | swear Simon, fuck. | swear that was the most 
disappointed he ever looked in my life. But shit, you Know what was 
the worst part?" 


"What was the worst part?" 


"Draven, my flesh and blood, leaves an Aquafina label on my desk 
that night. And he had James sign it. How am | supposed to feel, 
Simon? My own son has finally gotten more clever than me. He's 
always been smarter, but now he's finally one-upped me. This was 
originally funny as shit." Kondraki must have suddenly realized that 
he was ranting, as he hit the brakes as quickly as he started.