Description: SCP-343 is a male, seemingly race-less, humanoid in 
appearance with apparent omnipotence. SCP-343 was discovered 
walking the streets of Prague and detained after a staff member 
witnessed him disappear from the streets and reappear on a rooftop. 
SCP-343 is detained willingly in his chamber, as containment has 
proved impossible (see notes). 


Addendum #343-1: "SCP-343, colloquially nicknamed 'God' by the 
staff here, looks like an older man, although his features are 
different to each observer. In my first talk with him, he claimed 
outright to be the creator of the universe. When | asked him to prove 
this, he laughed, walked through the wall of the chamber, and 
returned seconds later with a hamburger in his hand. When | 
returned for a second visit, the previously bare cell had been 
furnished in up-scale, Old English style, complete with a roaring 
fireplace, and seemed many times larger than it did from the 
exterior. SCP-343 greatly enjoys speaking with people, and seems 
to have a knowledge of all topics. Visiting with SCP-343 has become 
a daily event for many of the staff here, and all employees report 
feeling generally happier after each visit. Attempts to bar staff below 
Level 3 clearance have proven unsuccessful, as guards assigned to 
watch the room quit their posts, saying 'You know He likes company' 
or shrugging when questioned. Since SCP-343 has thus far been 
harmless, all staff have been allowed access, and somehow they all 


SCP-2904: Temporary Immortals 


[Archivist’s note: The original document which was transcribed for 
digital storage featured a handwritten note at the top of this page 
instructing the reader to “Start with the letter.” This refers to 
Document 2904-A which can be found here: 


+ Document 2904-A 
Document 2904-A 


[Archivists note: This handwritten letter was included in 
the original briefing pack for MTF Pi-20 Operator 
candidates, where it formed an introduction to document 
SCP-2904. It has been transcribed for preservation in the 
digital archive.] 


June 19th, 1981 
To whom it may concern, 
If you're reading this then you’ve been offered a choice. 


Hello, my name is . | don’t know who you are 
and | never will. | won't pretend to know what you're 
going through. All | know is what comes next. I’m 
supposed help you figure out what to do, but I’ve never 
been much good at giving advice. Instead |’m going to 
tell you how it was for me. How it worked out. Then it'll 
be up to you whether you sign that document in front of 
you or choose whatever the alternative is in your case. 


Let’s start... not at the beginning. Real stories don’t have 
beginnings. Let’s just start somewhere. Before. This is 
me: 


| open my eyes. | must have been napping. The sun is 
warm on my back and splashes across my shoulders 
onto the desk. My eyes are drawn to the left side of my 
desk. The calendar there tells me that it’s Friday and my 
watch tells me it’s two pm. | check them automatically, 
without thinking. 


| usually leave Friday afternoons free to tidy up any loose 
ends in the hope of getting a whole weekend to myself. | 
can’t be sure though, so | pick up the phone and dial 
through to Tiffany. 


“Hi, Tiffany.” 


There’s a brief pause before she replies “Yes, Agent 
, what can | do for you?” 


“Can you check my schedule and tell me if | have 
anything planned in for this afternoon, please?” 


“Nothing except the meeting with Academy Director _ to 
discuss the assignments for this month’s crop, Sir.” 


“Oh, of course. Do you have the files for that, Tiffany?” 


“| brought them through this morning, Sir. | believe you 
put them in your top drawer?” 


“Ah.” | open my top drawer and pull out the files. “Yes, | 
have them here. Thank you, Tiffany.” | really need to get 
a system for this. 


| turn on the radio. The Boomtown Rats are just getting 
to the chorus of | Don’t Like Mondays and | hum along. 


Does any of that sound familiar? Probably. There’s only 
so many ways to get to where you are now. None of 
them good. That’s how | got there. You don’t need to 
know any of that, | guess, but if you know how | got there 
then maybe it'll help you understand why | made the 
decision | did. Whether you want to make that decision 


too. 


So you’re probably wondering now; “What happens if | 
do this? What will it be like?” The honest answer is, | 
don’t know. Neither will you. I'll tell you what it’s like but 
neither of us will ever really know. So let me tell you, 
then. What it’s like after. 


While | write this next part I’m listening to my own voice 
on tape. I’m listening to a stranger with my voice. He’s 
telling me what he’s going through so | can tell you. 
Here’s what he’s saying: 


| am calm. | check for threats. There are men in suits at 
one o'clock and four o’clock. They are wearing the 
badges so | relax and allow the nearer of the two at one 
o'clock to continue changing the card in the holder on the 
back of my right hand. He has muttered something 
insulting about my diminished mental capacity. | make a 
conscious decision not to do anything about it. The 
Boomtown Rats’ | Don’t Like Mondays is playing from 
somewhere behind me so | know that I’m not active. The 
other man, the older one is holding a hand against his 
ear. He speaks: 


“That's a check on the throat mic. We're good to go 
here.” 


| realise | am whispering my thoughts. It happens 
automatically, without thinking. It ought to, after a month 
of conditioning to auto-dictate. | recognise his voice. It’s 
Abrahams. He looks terrible. Old. Worn. | know to expect 
this but it’s still a little surprising to see how unkind time 
has been to him. 


“Thanks for that, pal,” he says. “Time catches up to most 
of us eventually.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and 
points at a large house about 200 yards away. “The 
target’s in there, . Go get ‘em.” He’s smiling but 
there’s something behind it. | know to expect this too. It’s 


pity. | walk towards the house and behind me The 
Boomtown Rats fade down to nothing. They are soon 
replaced by a deep bass thumping coming from the 
house. | walk through the front door. 


| am calm. | check for threats. There is a teenager lying 
on the floor in front of me. He’s unconscious, looks like 
someone got in a few good shots to his face before 
applying a chokehold. Judging by the ache in my hands 
it was me. There’s no one else present. 


| look down at my hands. My left hand is empty. A card is 
in the holder on the back of my right hand. It has a 
picture of a flat, shiny, round object on it and underneath 
that it says “Compact Disc, music storage.” 


The room I’m in appears to be a reception room ina 
squat. Dirty mattresses are tossed down all over the 
otherwise-empty floor. The wallpaper is peeling down in 
swathes and the whole place reeks of sweat and damp. | 
can’t see anything that looks like a “Compact Disc” in 
here, can’t see much of anything interesting. | walk 
towards the doorway at the back. There are stairs 
leading up and | can hear that the music is coming from 
above. | climb up. 


| am calm. | check for threats. I’m standing in a doorway 
and there is a teenage girl inside the room at twelve 
o'clock. She is turning towards me and she has a knife. 
She’s young, fast. She doesn’t hesitate. | don’t have time 
to draw my sidearm. She has come straight at me and 
she’s quicker than I’ve been in thirty years. She’s also 
clumsy; untrained and glassy-eyed from drugs or 
something else. | am prepared for this. | have guided her 
knife-hand wide with my forearm. The knife has struck 
the doorframe and been twisted from her grip. She has 
darted back across the room then she runs at me, 
screaming. | reach out and grasp the hand that is 
clawing towards my eyes. | pivot and use her momentum 
to throw her over my shoulder. She flies through the 
doorway and bounces down the stairs opposite. She 


comes to an awkward halt halfway down. 


| can’t afford to leave her behind so | descend to stand 
over her. Her arm is obviously broken and she seems 
only partly-conscious. | lift my foot and stamp down on 
her head with carefully-gauged force. She will likely live. 


| look down at my hands. My left hand is empty. A card is 
in the holder on the back of my right hand. It has a 
picture of a flat, shiny, round object on it and underneath 
that it says “Compact Disc, music storage.” | climb back 
up the stairs to the room the girl was waiting in. The 
music is coming from this room. Something about it tugs 
at the corner of my consciousness, like someone 
whispering your name in a darkened room. It is weak, 
though. It can’t find any purchase on me and slides 
away. 


In the corner of the room are a set of enormous speakers 
hooked up to the smallest stereo systems | have ever 
seen. | crouch down next to it and look for a way to get 
the “Compact Disc” out. A tiny button is marked with the 
eject symbol so | push it. The music dies immediately 
leaving an echoing silence. A little tray slides out of the 
stereo system with a shiny object on it. | check it against 
the card and it looks the same. | pick it up and put it ina 
padded case from my belt. | take the case in my left 
hand and look for a way out. 


| am calm. | check for threats. | am standing in a hallway 
with what looks like a doorway to the outside at nine 
o'clock. There are no threats present. | look down at my 
hands. My left hand is holding a case with the word 
“objective” printed on it in bold capitals. 


| turn towards the door to leave the building. There is a 
noise behind me. | turn to see two teenage boys 
emerging into the hallway from deeper in the building. 
One of them is holding a baseball bat and the other a 
kitchen knife. They seem confused and angry. They rush 
down the hallway towards me. | have only one free hand 


so | draw my sidearm. Since |’m shooting one-handed | 
take my time to line up the shot carefully, to make it 
count. They get closer. Then | put two rounds into the 
chest of the first boy. The Webley bucks in my hand 
drawing my aim high and | fight to lower it towards the 
second boy. He’s stumbling across his companion’s 
body and too busy watching his feet to see the revolver 
draw level with him from five feet away. | fire twice more. 
One goes in his chest and the other through his neck. He 
crumbles and skids to a stop on the cracked tiles. Blood 
spreads out from the two bodies in a broad sheet. | wait, 
listening, watching. | am shaking with adrenaline. 
Nothing else moves. | turn and head out of the building. 


| am calm, | check for threats. There are two men in suits 
standing at twelve o’clock and three o’clock. They are 
wearing the badges so | relax and allow the older one to 
take the case from my left hand. | can hear The 
Boomtown Rats launching into the second verse of / 
Don't Like Mondays so | know I’m not active. The 
younger one is looking at me strangely, like he’s afraid. | 
have no way of knowing why. He hesitantly shepherds 
me into the back of a van. He waits while | strap myself 
in, offers me the helmet. | settle it over my head, relax in 
the darkness and hum along to the music. 


Doesn’t sound very appealing, does it? So why would 
you volunteer for something like that? Here’s why: 


If you're sitting where you're sitting, reading what you’re 
reading then then you used to be a person who did 
things. Maybe you still are. Some of those things 
probably weren't very nice, weren't things you'd want to 
talk about even if you could. You did them anyway and 
you took the therapy and the drugs and the mandatory 
psychological leave so you could get recertified and get 
right back to doing them again. You did them because 
you thought they were important; that they needed to be 
done. 


Thing is, you won't be doing them for much longer, will 
you? You're on a clock and it’s counting down, has been 
for a while. First they put you on “lighter duties,” before 
you know it you’re desk-bound. And that’s before they 
found out about whatever got you here. Even if they 
didn’t know about that, you didn’t have too much longer, 
did you? 


That’s what they’re offering you: A chance to keep doing 
the things that need to be done. It won’t be the same as 
before. It can’t be. You can’t go back. But it’s something. 
Maybe it’s enough for you. 


You've got to understand that what they’re offering you 
isn’t life, but it isn’t death either. Choose wisely. 


Yours Faithfully, 


Operator , MTF Pi-20 


SCP-2904 


Item #: SCP-2904 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2904 is to be stored in the 
Site-19 Deep-Sigma storage vault at all times except when required 
for use. When outside of this vault it is to be accompanied by no less 
than three armed security personnel chosen at random from the 
standby duty roster. 


SCP-2904 is not to be handled with bare hands except by MTF 
Pi-20 personnel as required by their duties. See below for details 
(classified level 3/2904 / level 4). Unless in active use it is to remain 
in the secure transport container provided, including while it is in 
storage. 


All further testing of SCP-2904 is prohibited by order of the O5 
council dated 20/10/1988. Approval for testing on previously-created 
SCP-2904-1 instances may be sought using standard research 
request protocols. 


Description: SCP-2904 is an oblate spheroid with an equatorial 
radius of 4.982 cm. It is composed of osmium alloyed with 2.3% 
tungsten, 0.6% iron, 0.4% carbon and 0.3% unidentified exotic 
matter. Its mass is 10.075 kg +0.347 kg. This variation in mass is 
due to the measured mass of SCP-2904 varying according to a sine 
function with a period equal to the sidereal orbital period of the 
Earth’s moon (27.3 days). The mass is at its greatest when the 
moon is aligned with the galactic center as viewed from the Earth. It 
has not yet been determined what connection, if any exists between 
the object and the Earth’s moon. 


There is a 3-mm-deep depression or dimple at one of SCP-2904’s 
poles. A 1-mm-deep groove or channel extends away from this 
depression and traces a complex path across the object’s surface. 
This groove has the anomalous property of beginning and ending at 
the polar depression without crossing or looping back on itself and 
only touching the polar depression at a single point. The implication 
of this is that SCP-2904 is an intrusion into three-dimensional space 
of a higher-dimensional object. 


The primary anomalous effect of SCP-2904 is activated by a living 
entity directly touching the object and tracing the groove in the 
object’s surface over its entire path, beginning and ending at the 
polar depression. Humans who have carried out this procedure 
report that the object grows painfully hot to the touch and pulses or 
beats like a heart for a few seconds immediately after the procedure 
is completed. The heat and pulsing then expands to affect their 
entire body before quickly waning. Monitoring devices have been 
unable to detect any changes in the object's or exposed individuals’ 
temperature or dimensions to account for this sensation. All entities 


in direct contact with SCP-2904 when it is activated are exposed to 
its anomalous effect, and are hereafter designated as instances of 
SCP-2904-1 


SCP-2904-1 instances display the following traits: 


« Instances cease ageing. The earliest instances were exposed 
over 60 years ago (as of 2005) and show no significant 
changes to their health or physical makeup since exposure. 
Instances gain a low-level regenerative ability. Tests have 
shown that a minor (3 cm long, 1cm deep) cut is fully healed 
without scarring in approximately three days and an 
amputated limb is fully regrown and functional in 
approximately eight months. 

Instances show an enhanced resistance to toxins and 
disease.