Consuming instances of SCP-3645 induces radical changes in brain 
chemistry leaving subjects unable to understand the concept of a 
story. This process begins with an essential inability to write original 
sentences, designated Stage 1. Subjects will frequently find at first 
that their attention during the act of writing will wander unless they 
use someone else's work as a template®. Following this, subjects 
will be unable to form written sentences of their own, often resorting 
to cliches or commonly used phrases in their language. Accusations 
of plagiarism are a common way of detecting someone who has 
consumed SCP-3645, as subjects who do not frequently write are 
harder to detect at this stage. This is designated Stage 2. 


Following which, the progression of SCP-3645 mimics a form of 
dementia, designated Stage 3. The inability to form original thoughts 
will spread to speaking, and gradually erode away as subjects have 
great difficulty following the progression of increasing simple 
narratives. This has shown in testing with D-Class to extend to all 
forms and mediums, including literature in all its forms, visual 
mediums like photography and films, and aural forms like oral 
storytelling and music. During this, the subject's brain loses the 
ability to understand its own chronological history with cohesion at a 
school age level. This means that subjects will not be able to locate 
past memories, resulting in retrograde amnesia, however some 
subjects will also form anterograde amnesia and be unable to form 
new memories. Past this, subjects are catatonic and unresponsive 
to stimuli, designated Stage 4. 


Subjects who reach Stage 5 start to be subject to a reality altering 
effect. The bodies of Stage 5 subjects are described as blurred, and 
transparent by observers, and gradually they appear to fade away 
altogether. This is congruent with a disappearance of all property 
and writing by the affected subject, in reverse chronological order. 
These objects, and the subject, at this time appear to stretch until 
they are in excess of several kilometers long and centimeters thin. 
All stretched objects pass through solid matter during this time. Any 
human who comes into direct physical contact with Stage 5 affected 
persons and Stage 5 affected proxy objects has a 60% chance of 
exhibiting its effects as well. Memories of subjects are affected as 
well, gradually disappearing, but the narratives of others are not 
affected’. By the conclusion of Stage 5, SCP-3645 appears to have 
erased it's consumers from history. It is believed that Stage 5 
subjects are not dead, but are still alive in some unknown capacity 
due to recorded emissions such as groans and cries during the 
stretching process. 


The only known way to halt the effects of SCP-3645 consumption is 
the purchase of more SCP-3645, only this is ultimately unsuccessful 
in the long run and only serves to excerbate the effects. All subjects 
will reach Stage 5. 


Addendum: Interview with SCP-3645-550, formerly Dr. Jacob 
Saulnier-Harris of the Foundation's Photography Division, and 


know. I'm sorry. What were we talking about? 
Interviewer: Your first exposure to the stone's effect. 


Janice Erickson: Oh. Right. It was month or two after | started 
working. Carla made me go find Margery, who'd been assigned to 
clean the atrium that week. As soon as | got into the room | heard 
this sound in my head. Like thump-thump, thump-thump. | couldn't 
tell if it was far away or coming from inside my head. | was pretty 
creeped out by that, but what was | gonna do? | told myself | was 
imagining it and went through the atrium to find Margery. | call for 
her and she doesn't respond. The lights were all low, like | said, and 
the room was like a maze with all the display cases and old things 
with curtains over them. Finally | find her slumped over in back of 
one of the display cases. She looks at me but it's like she doesn't 
really see me. She keeps muttering something about blood on the 
walls, but | look around and everything seems normal. Creepy, but 
normal. I'm still hearing the thump-thump noise and it's going faster 
and | realize it's my own heart. 


[Subject pauses for breath and takes a drink of water.] 
Interviewer: Continue, please. 


Janice Erickson: | dragged Margery out of there as fast as | could. 
And | felt fine after. | even felt a little silly. Margery got better after a 
while, said she just had a bad day and she was sorry and it wouldn't 
happen again. She was never a friend of mine so | didn't ask her 
any questions about it. 


[Subject pauses. ] 


Janice Erickson: After that she took a week off from work. When 
she came back, she didn't want to go back to the atrium. Said it was 
a bad memory. Carla made her go back. Mr. [REDACTED]'s orders 
apparently. After like thirty minutes or so we hear her just... 
screaming. Like she was being murdered. She came rushing down 
the stairs babbling about seeing dead bodies and they were looking 
at her, and she could see more blood on the walls and she wasn't 
imagining it this time. Carla made her calm down and took her into a 
room and ordered us out. They spent a while in there. When they 


SCP-3645 containment specialists Dr. Hayley McFarlane and 
Researcher Sadie Louis. SCP-3645-550 is a Stage 3 subject. 


<Begin Log>: 


McFarlane: Dr. Saulnier-Harris, thank you for 
cooperating with us. 


SCP-3645-550: Well, you know what they say? Birds of 
a feather, flock together. 


McFarlane: Yes, we know that many others are affected, 
but we're dealing with your case right now. 


SCP-3645-550: Guess | was caught with my pants 
down. 


McFarlane: Don't beat up on yourself, it's not your fault. 


Louis: This is Kephart's fault. All they do is blackmail 
people. They blackmailed us with containment breaches, 
they blackmailed their own creations with their 
appearance. You wouldn't have known. 


SCP-3645-550: Rags to riches? Pillar of the community? 
(SCP-3645-550 scoffs.) Sick as a dog, that's the naked 
truth. What a fine kettle of fish indeed. The road to hell is 
paved with good intentions and | guess you reap what 
you sew. Nip and tuck. Nip it in the bud. 


Louis: Dr. Saulnier-Harris, how are you holding up? 


SCP-3645-550: Death warmed over, the lowest man on 
the totem pole. Last ditch effort let the cat out of the bag. 
Keeping up with the Joneses? Knock on wood the kiss of 
death. 


McFarlane: He's deteriorating. Listen, he's lost simple 
connective thoughts and syntax. 


SCP-3645-550: Just a hop skip and a jump kick the 
bucket. Joined at the hip it aint over till the fat lady sings, 


| heard it through the grapevine. Go the extra mile grist 
for the mill eleventh hour 


McFarlane: Doctor? We're going to show you something 
you work with, okay? You're going to be fine. 


SCP-3645-550: At my wits end back to the drawing 
board, playing with fire. 


(Dr. McFarlane cues up a segment from a film, 
"Casablanca", and then sits back to observe 
SCP-3645-550, who calms down and then begins to 
softly cry.) 


SCP-3645-550: Can't hold a candle to. 
McFarlane: Do you understand what you're viewing? 


SCP-3645-550: (SCP-3645-550 shakes his head) Can't 
hold a candle to. Can't hold. 


Louis: Doctor, can you follow the story? You told me 
once this was your favorite film. 


SCP-3645-550: Can't hold. Can't. 


(SCP-3645-550 is weeping. He turns away from the 
television and stares blankly.) 


SCP-3645-550: Can't...see. 


This was the last time SCP-3645-550 expressed an original thought. 
Subject was since reclassified as Stage 4 afterwards and slipped 
into catatonia a week later. 


Addendum-2: 
+4889/4 CLASSIFIED: 


On 6/4/2023, the Gol-4889 team was able to locate the 
current factory where SCP-3645 instances and 
Hackmeat are produced by locating old files archived 


before the takeover by SixStar Group. It is the Hormel 
Atlanta Plant located in Tucker, GA. A team consisting of 
project heads Davey Kurland and Sadie Louis, Agent 
Gerald Pulverson, and four members of MTF-Omega-20 
("The Executive Board"). The team met just outside the 
property owned by Kephart at 1400 hours, all members 
equipped with microphones and hidden body cameras. 


<Begin Log>: 


Pulverson: Alright team, you remember the 
plan, yeah? 


Kurland: Remind me one last time, if you 
would. 


Pulverson: Me and the two researchers will 
enter through the visitor's entrance. 
Omega-20's going in through the loading dock, 
they're to terminate known hostiles and get 
some reconnaissance on the inside. Contrary 
to what the Taskforce might think this is 
dangerous on both ends. This the first real 
physical Kephart facility of any kind we've 
found since the first 3643 letter. Alright, that 
covers it. Everyone ready? 


Omega-3: Check. 
Kurland: Checking in, all nice and clear. 
Omega-4: Check. 
Omega-7: Check. 
Louis: | am check. 
Omega-7: Check. 


Unidentified female voice: What do you 
mean, check? 


Pulverson: Gah! 


(A middle-aged Caucasian woman in a white 
pantsuit is approaching the car, alone.) 


Omega-7: Identify yourself, please. 


Unidentified female voice: Sorry, | could ask 
you the same thing. You're trespassing outside 
Our property. 


Louis But it's not your property we're on. 


Unidentified female voice: That's true, you're 
not. But we at Hormel Foods like to keep 
watch when a SWAT team meets with some, 
what are you, inspectors, right outside our 


property. 


Omega-3 We apologize ma'am, but there's a 
dangerous escaped criminal in the vicinity. 
These safety inspectors were just checking in 
with us to make sure it wouldn't affect the 
plant's operations. 


Unidentified female voice: Mmm-hmm. And 
where were you parked? 


Pulverson: Just in your visitor's parking lot, 
ma'am. We were getting some fresh air before 
we formally introduced ourselves. That sweet 
clean Georgia air. | apologize about the 
informality of our first impression. 


Unidentified female voice: Meat inspectors. 
Getting some fresh air, mmm-hmm. My name 
is Lara Yulgh and | think you three had better 
follow me. We'll start with that inspection, 
precisely as | have it scheduled. You officers 
can search the surrounding industrial area and 
stay here or else | will be forced to ask the 


Atlanta police department what you're really 
doing here. 


(She begins to walk along the curb towards the 
gates of the property. She swipes a silver 
keycard and the gates rise. She gesticulates 
for Pulverson, Louis, and Kurland to follow her. 
They do so, hesitantly.) 


Pulverson: Odd, she resisted the memetic 
trigger. 


Kurland: Worse, | think she used one of her 
own. The taskforce isn't following. 


(Pulverson turns around. The taskforce is 
immobilized in the same position they were 
standing in.) 


Pulverson: Shit! 


Louis: Relax, we're armed too. And Command 
still has the potential to extract us, right 
Command. 


Command: Correct, now don't mention us 
unless its an emergency. They probably will be 
monitoring transmissions. 


Yulgh: This way, inspectors! Keep up! 
Kurland: Suspicious name, Yulgh. 


The camera feed cuts out for approximately fifteen 
minutes. When it resumes, all three are inside the 
factory. 


(Pulverson, Louis, and Kurland are following 
Yulgh through a beige corridor. Workers in 
white plastic protective wear that obscure their 
faces are walking back and forth, carrying 
clipboards or packages of frozen meat. Yulgh 


is also dressed in protective gear. The 
Foundation personnel are not, and their body 
cameras are not obscured.) 


Kurland: Seems oddly banal for the big gold 
pot at the end of the rainbow. | mean, this is 
the jerky death corporation we've been 
monitoring for years? This!? This hallway is 
minty beige! 


Louis: Keep it together, okay? | know how you 
can get all anxious about this but you'll blow 
our cover. Okay? | love you, Davey. We'll get 
through this. We're gonna record some stuff, 
pretend to write stuff down on our clipboards, 
and then send in the big guns. | love you. Just 
think about that. 


Kurland: Alright Sadie, I'll think about that. 


Yulgh: (Ahead) Make a left here past the 
administration offices, I'll show you to the 
primary processing floor. 


Pulverson: | have a sneaking suspicion that 
our cover might be blown anyway. This is a 
trap. 


Louis: Command will extract us if it's a trap. 
Kurland: It's definitely a trap. 


Louis: Shut up, both of you. We're armed, 
we're trained. We can handle a trap. These 
guys make parrotfish people and hash that 
fades you away, it's not exactly eldritch 
Factory nightmares. Their bark is always 
worse than their bite. 


(They reach a large swinging door that leads 
to a plastic antechamber. Yulgh holds the door 


for both of them.) 


Yulgh: Just stand here for a few minutes while 
decontamination occurs. 


Kurland: Don't we need suits like yours to 
enter the floor? 


Yulgh: No. 


(The decontamination process ends. There is 
a beep, and the door on the other end opens 
onto a vast space dominated by a truly 
massive mechanical vat of some kind. 
Conveyor belts are carrying lumps of 
unidentifiable meat upwards into the vat, 
monitored by workers in protective wear. 
There are electronic saws on gimbals slicing 
the meat further before it is carried up and 
dumped over the edge. There is a low grinding 
sound originating from the vat.) 


Pulverson: Oh wow. 


Yulgh: Do you like it? It was shipped in when 
SixStar took over. 


Kurland: This is where—? 


Yulgh: —the meat and potatoes get ground up 
with the spices. Yes, we've switched to a new 
spice blend. Those are going in on the other 
side of the grinder. If you want to take a closer 
look at our saws, I'll think you'll find they're 
USDA Grade for handling raw beef. Only the 
finest beef goes into Hormel Hackmeat, you 
see. Go ahead you two, you'll think they're 
something fine. 


(Kurland and Louis walk towards the saw. 
Pulverson does not follow.) 


Kurland: Shit, why am | leaving myself 
vulnerable?! 


Louis: Fucking mind control! 


Kurland: This is bad. Try to reach for your 
gun, Sadie! 


(They are inches from the conveyor belt. Meat 
lumps are rolling past. One has a distinct 
skinned human face, complete with eyes. It 
mouths "help me" before getting sliced and 
rolling up the belt. There is a gunshot behind 
them.) 


Louis: Fuck, Davey! Now! 


(Kurland and Louis spin around. Kurland 
quickly draws his gun as he does so. He fires 
at Yulgh's head, who topples. There is no 
visible blood. Pulverson's brains have been 
shot out over the factory floor and his body has 
crumpled to the ground.) 


Kurland: Shit! 


(Somebody restrains Kurland and Louis from 
behind, presumably factory workers. Yulgh 
rises to her feet, her head askew. She reaches 
up and snaps it back into place. There is a 
hole in her protective gear, through which 
something grey and pulsating can be seen. 
When she speaks her voice is raspier and 
slurred.) 


Yulgh: You didn't think we knew you 
Foundation the whole time? You 
[INDECIPHERABLE], this is the plan. This is 
our new product. 


(Command is alerted by their monitors and 


begin to prepare an extraction team. Kurland 
and Louis are dragged backwards, struggling. 
They are dragged between two belts. A gloved 
hand grabs Kurlana's gun and drops it. It 
slides underneath a belt platform. Another 
takes Louis's gun.) 


Yulgh: We've been releasing a modified 
version of our Fiji spray into the air 
surrounding the factory, that's why you and 
your buddies have been not acting so 
characteristically savvy. The stuff we used 
there was abandoned because it wasn't 
powerful enough. Look at you not resisting!