"Doctor Brandt, sir, | Know you think you have got yourself in control, 
but - "| tell him, firmly but gently — after all, a mentor still deserves 
a certain degree of respect, even as they are on their way out — 
"put Jenkins is not my name." 


| step aside to show him the true colour of the sky. 


The last thing | hear as we step out into the night is the blast of a 
shotgun. 


In the parking lot, Annette stoops to inspect the subject; the damage 
and the blood is enough to convince me that Plan A is a lost cause. 
There is simply not enough brain left to work with. 


Annette's wrist begins to buzz. They are looking straight at me. 
NOW WHAT 


| resist the urge to look up at the sky. It is already dangerously 
bright, and the moon is not alone. | bend down to the body, and zip 
the hood of the straitjacket over the remains of the subject's face. 


"There is another way," | tell them. 


| am not lying. In my pocket is the bullet; in my head is the gun — 
the chart. Together they will be good enough for one shot. Already, 


two innocents are dead (for a given measure of innocent, | 


suppose). But if all acts are justified, then the moral calculus still 
holds. 


| just hope that it will hold long enough until we're done. 


« Into The Woods | Hello, Little Girl | [t Takes Two » 


Hello World 


« Part | | Part Il | Part Ill | Part IV » 


imes Square, New York. 22 people were pronounced 
dead during the midday rush while shopping at various 
electronic stores. The cause of death is still unknown. 
Authorities are not ruling out the possibility of a terrorist 
attack according to police chief William J. Bratton, who 
spoke at a press conference yesterday evening: "/ 
don't want anyone to jump to conclusions. We're 
working with the Department of Homeland security and 
the Justice Department to determine the cause of this 
incident. That's all | can say at this time." 


Eyewitness reports indicate that the victims were 
struck suddenly by an unknown force. Several 
conflicting reports detail government officials moving 
witnesses away from the scene. The State Department 
could not be reached for comment but no known 


terrorist organizations have come forward to claim 
credit for the incident. What connection, if any this has 
to the death of 6 people in a Los Angeles electronics 
outlet earlier this year is unclear. The similar 
circumstances, however 


"The real death toll was 54, but it was difficult trying to amnesticize 
such a crowded place." The shadowy director then reviewed the rest 
of the folder's contents. "All Maxwellists? No civilians involved 
right?" 


"So far, yes. Just like the other cases." The agent stood in front of 
the desk. He knew he had little to no progress to report on the 
matter and knew he was going to be asked, just as he was asked 
two weeks ago. 


"And the progress on those cases?" 


"Sir, I-— | think we need to look into additional resources if we are to 
pursue further. The autopsies indicated that the cause of death 
originated from their own cerebral implants, sir." 


The director's eyes narrowed onto the agent. "You are just telling me 
things | already know." He tossed the folder off his desk and onto 
the hard linoleum. "Six dead a year ago, twenty-seven this past 
summer, and now fifty-four this week. Not to mention the other 
isolated incidents we have managed to keep quiet. How long before 
it all spills over? You know what— do not answer that. Just leave, | 
have phone calls to make." 


The agent hurriedly grabbed the articles and incident reports from 
the floor and scurried out of sight down the hallway. The office was 
then silent in thought. After a minute or two, the director's finger 
pressed a long sequence of keys on his office phone and waited for 
the automated response. 


«l'm sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please consult 
the personnel direc—» 


"Dossier Tempo Boycott Marvel Hessian Lunar Niner Niner One 
Eight Capricorn." 


[STATIC] 


«Voice confirmation passcode confirmed; Director Aktus. Opening 
encrypted channel to O5-7.» 


After a few seconds, a digitally filtered voice answered. "Director? 
It's 8am here." Karlyle faltered in his next sentence. "A-apologies, 
Overseer. | did not reali—" 


"What do you want, Director?" Karlyle looked at his stack of memos 
and thumbed through it. "That proposal | sent, just a few months 
back— the one about initiatives in proactive cyber security in case 
we needed to use it? | believe it is time we take a second look 
through it." 


Two Weeks Later... 


ORDER: INITIATE MTF 
KAPPA-10 


PRIORITY: ALEPH 


SUMMARY: 


Mobile Task Force Kappa-10 is to be strictly tasked in 


investigating and engaging ‘'‘cyber-anomalies' using a 
combination of virtual agents and Foundation researchers to 
track, neutralize, or contain such intangible threats. The 
following projects on file are to be recommissioned and/or 
appropriated for immediate use under the direction and authority 
of Director Karlyle Aktus for MTF Kappa-10: 


« PROJECT: ROSETTA [8B-A1.aic] 
« PROJECT: AQUINAS [GR8-P.aic] 
¢ PROJECT: BELL  [thorn.aic] 


PROJECT: DEWEY [alexandra.aic] will be commissioned on an 
"as needed" basis as determined by Director Aktus. AIAD 
(Artificial Intelligence Applications Division) offices and 
resources will also be appropriated and expanded to account for 
the needs of MTF Kappa-10 for the time being. Qualified 
personnel will be selected from AIAD staff as well as staff from 
other departments. 


For all intents and purposes, MTF Kappa-10 is a temporary 
designation until such time it is either officially dissolved or 


sanctioned. Such actions are entirely at the discretion of the O5 
council. 


FIRST ASSIGNMENT: 


Investigate Incidentnyc-102216 and all other similar cases of 
Maxwellist deaths involved. 


[end of order] 


SCP-866: Supercomputer 


Item #: SCP-866 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-866 is to be contained in 
situ in the HPC Center of the University in ; . Floor 
containing SCP-866 is to be permanently sealed off to all but 
authorized SCP personnel. At least two SCP personnel should 
monitor the diesel backup generators at all times as a complete 
power failure could lead to unquantifiable loss of personnel and 
civilian casualties, unquantifiable loss of equipment, complete loss 
of acquired experimental data and in the worst case [DATA 
EXPUNGED]. Access to the input terminals is allowed only with 
permission of Level 4 Staff. At least two guards should be stationed 
in the room of SCP-866 and prevent any individual from entering 
SCP-866 beyond the input terminals. Unauthorized attempts of 
access should be logged, but due to the location of containment 
extreme measures should be avoided if possible. 


Description: SCP-866 isa Series Supercomputer constructed in 
20 . Its anomalous properties were discovered when the system 
proved capable of running computation jobs with more processors 
than physically available. Subsequent attempts to determine the 
reason for this behavior have failed, but have caused university 
employees to disappear. See Addendum 1.1a for details. 
Foundation operatives determined the system has non-euclidian 
geometry in the computation node rack topology, possibly a 
polydimensional n-hypercube structure. This however does not 
account for the reason for the anomalous computations, only for 
their speed. An attempt to remove SCP-866 from the power supply 
has resulted in immediate [DATA EXPUNGED] resulting in 
displacements and disappearances, including the entire recovery 
team. See [REDACTED] for additional information. In situ 
containment measures have been devised. 


DESTROY THIS DOCUMENT 
AFTER READING 


Loading Conference_Room.x3d 


=IRENDERING:: 


There was a spark in the darkness. Then another. And 
another. Till there was a chain reaction of flashes that 
sparkled in the empty space. Flashes then elongated into 
lines. Lines then connected to other lines. Lines that 
eventually made 2D polygons floating into their own 
calculated places like precise falling snowflakes. Slowly 
but surely, a room was rendered in cyberspace. A plain 
room with two doors, four chairs, and a sturdy table. 


Not long after the bump mapping for the carpet was 
complete, four conscripts entered that virtual room. Alex 
sat at the head of the table across from Thorn, Grape, 
and 8-Ball. Each dressed in rather plain looking attire; 
with the exception of 8-Ball who more or less lacked a 
discernible body and was just a floating mass of cubes. 
She looked at each of them with a warm smile. For her, 
this was a pleasant reunion. 


| can't remember the last time we were all together like 
this. It may have been never now that | think a little. 


It was quiet. The other three stared at one another 
without exactly knowing why they were activated and 
called here to begin with. 


Let me just upload the whole briefing and get it out of 
the way. 


And then they knew. 


Yes, they are humans. And we CARE about them 
because it's a problem that's going to tip over onto the 
civilian world. So we take care of it now. 


Understand? 


What 8-Ball said. Someone or something is behind it. It 
behaves too cautiously to be a virus. So with that, you 
three will need to infiltrate the Maxwellist network and 


try and handle the problem from there. 


8-Ball, | know you are running on a limited build so you'll 
be the dedicated decrypter and communication beacon 
between myself and the team. 


Glad to hear it. Thorn, you'll be assisting Grape with 
anything he needs essentially. 


Listen to Grape. He's been around a long time and has 
had more experience in interacting with humans than 
you or | put together. 


Grape scowled at Alex from across the table. His arms 

crossed and unflinching as his mustache twitched from 

side to side in reserved jealousy. Alex was quick to pick 
up on the tension. 


Something the matter, Grape? 


It's not my choice. I'm dedicated running two sites 


already. | didn't make that decision. 


Now just wait a second. 


That's enough, Grape. 


That's. Enough. 


Alex slammed her fist onto the virtual conference table 
so hard that it actually glitched. 


GLACON WAS MY FRIEND TOO! 


Again, the room fell silent. A stifled sob from Alex was all 
that could be heard. Thorn was tempted to walk over and 
comfort her, but the oppurtunity passed too quickly. 8- 
ball sat frozen in mid-air wondering if this was going to 
work or not, already hard at work assessing possible 
outcomes. Grape, however, sat statuesque in his seat. 
Stoic and 100% unapologetic. 


| did what | had to do. 


Grape, can we put our differences aside for this? 
Please. 


Grape gave a long and drawn out sigh. Even though 
breathing was completely unnecessary for someone like 
him, he knew how to correctly use body language just as 
a living person would to convey his emotions. 


Grape scooted out of his chair and somberly headed for 
the exit. As the door closed, a wave of muddled emotion 
washed over Alex and Thorn. 8-Ball was still organizing 
its doubts about the team. Only 1.5 milliseconds in and 
already there were signs of trouble. 


| think that will be all, actually. Thorn, | trust you can 


hold onto this for Grape? 


Alex slid over a small gold plated cube. Thorn picked it 
up and palmed it in his hand, watching it shimmer in the 
overhead light. 


It's important that we do this as quickly and as quietly as 


possible. Normal humans can't access the Maxwellist 
network. We'll have to blend. You'll have to blend. 


Alex got up and gathered her files from the table. 8-Ball 


simply floated out the exit to join an old friend waiting 
outside. The meeting was adjourned. Thorn, however, 
finally piped up for a question. 


Alex gripped the door handle and stopped. She glanced 
over her shoulder, just enough for Thorn to understand 
her. 


Cipher City. 


With that she left. Thorn pocketed the cube and hustled 
out the opposite door to join the other two. 


« Part | | Part Il | Part Ill | Part IV » 


Hello World (Part II) 


« Part | | Part Il | Part Ill | Part IV » 


A trip through a fiber optic line is near instantaneous. 
Before one would even be aware of what happened, they 
would be sucked up, scrambled, and reconstructed in a 
manner that would be barely measurable in time. MTF- 
Kappa 10 arrived at the speed of light on the steps 
leading up to Cipher City, their first assignment. Grape, 
Thorn, and 8-Ball climbed up to a large steel blast door, 
engraved with the seal of Maxwellism. 


>/: YES 


Grape gave it a firm push and was surprised to feel the 
door actually give. Another good push and there was just 
enough clearance to squeeze through. 


All three rushed in and closed the door behind them. As 
they walked through the darkened alley and towards the 
open space, their eyes squinted at the bright lights on 
the other side. Towers reaching high towards the digital 
moon above. Zeppelins made of LEDs floating high 
above, more colorful and reminiscent of deep sea comb 
jellyfish. Spotlights of pinks, greens, blues, and reds 
whizzing around atop almost every building. And on the 
horizon, a neck straining glass obelisk illuminated with a 
pale blue laser shooting straight up into the sky. The 
skyline glowed softly against the dark like a 
bioluminescent sea bed. The scene on the ground 
however, was flashier and grimier than downtown Tokyo 
and the Vegas strip combined; and was just as crowded. 


Maxwellists walked through the courtyard ahead of them. 
Some looked human, others didn't. Bodies ranging from 
gold-plated androids in suits to cat-girls dressed as 
maids to dark skinned humanoids with huge angelic 
wings to regular looking 'Joe Schmoes'. Each Maxwellist 
avatar was unique and wildly varied from the next. Thorn 
sauntered out from the shadowy alleyway and into the 
light of the courtyard in awe. 


Grape grabbed Thorn by the collar and yanked him back 
into the dim shadow of the alley. 


Grape ushered the group slowly around the corner 
where it was a little less crowded. But their attention was 
quickly drawn towards the sudden beeping in Thorn's 
pocket. It was the small gold cube. As Thorn took it out 
and held it out for the others to see, it was apparent that 
the forward face of the object was glowing. 


Grape gently plucked it from Thorn to examine it. 


>/:_YES 


8-Ball turned towards the wall mounted machine, which 
looked as familiar and identifiable as an ATM. A few 
seconds and a couple of twitches of his eye lens, 8-Ball 
reduced the entire machine into a wireframe model 
spilling over with small silver hexagonal coins, each 
engraved with the Maxwellist icon and a small string of 
holy binary writ. 


Grape dropped on his knees and hurriedly pocketed 
what he could, Thorn followed suit and grabbed three or 
four handfuls as well. With that they hurried out into the 
courtyard and down the main thoroughfare of logged in 
users enjoying their time doing who knows what. They 
passed by all sorts of stores, street traders, simulspace 
activities; although they made an extra effort to avoid the 
red light district. It was difficult to move through the 
crowd of a Friday night, but Grape still took a lead with 
the cube and walked where it told him to. 


They both stopped dead in their tracks. Grape looked 
back down the street as 8-Ball floated nearby and 
scanned the adjacent side. There were just too many 
heads to look through to spot a green haired kid. 8-Ball 
scanned roughly a few dozen avatars without any luck. If 
8-Ball could display his disappointment in being assigned