Addendum: Examination of the SCP contained copy of the book 
reveals an additional paragraph in the book's mid-section describing 
Agent 's visit, in language consistent with Laura Ingalls Wilder's 
style. No mention is made, however, of SCP-826; Agent is simply 
described as having dinner and leaving. This textual deviation 
appears to be unique to this copy, as other copies do not appear to 
contain this passage. Book is now designated Document 826-1. 
Researchers are recommended to file copies of documents used 
with Dr. under Document 826-(number) 


Subject: Agent 

Movie: The Shining (DVD) 

Equipment: One (1) GPS locator, one (1) two-way radio, one (1) 
canteen filled with water, one (1) watch, one (1) 9mm semi- 
automatic with extra cartridges, one (1) video camera attached to 
Agent's hat 

Results: After Agent entered SCP-containing room, GPS and 
radio proceeded to malfunction as in previous experiment. After 
roughly 30 seconds, Agent exited the room, and gave video 
camera to research team. Tape was playable and contained the 
following footage. 


Agent enters into a hotel room from what 
appeared to be a closet and, after exploring the room 
and confirming she could not exit through the closet, 
leaves the room. Agent continues down hallway and 
eventually arrives in hotel lobby. Agent explores behind 
front desk and enters hotel manager's office, where 
SCP-826 sits on shelf beside hotel ledgers. Agent 
removes DVD from SCP-826 and exits through office 
door into research room. 


Addendum: Examination of DVD copy revealed no major plot 
deviations, most likely due to the fact Agent did not interact with any 


Andressa smile. Their radiance warmed her. So that's what safety 
felt like after all. 


She wasn't sure where it started to go wrong. 
Maybe it was her fault. 


When Heather won, she realized it was partly due to all of the other 
contenders acting weird. She didn’t fully grasp the situation. The 
employees were suspicious and wanted a picture of her without her 
"costume". The reasoning still eludes her. Something to do with a 
photo for the store, whatever that meant. She didn't have a script 
prepared to head off the situation before it became an issue. She 
was too bewildered to give a good answer, and awkwardly declined 
to do so. 


If she only prepared for this situation, maybe things wouldn't have 
been so confusing. All it took was an impatient 12-year old to try 
take off her head before confusion took place. When she panicked 
and took it off herself, chaos set in. 


Maybe it was bad timing that both of her mothers left early. 


Dahlia wanted to get some groceries for the hotel that night as well 
as snacks for the way back, and Andressa had to check in with the 
hotel to see if they could check out super early. Plus, their old dealer 
was right next to the hotel too, so it would be a super quick and 
lucky break for weed. 


If they had left 20 minutes earlier, maybe they would have been 
back in time to help her. If they had left 20 minutes later, maybe all 
of them could have left by the end of the tournament. Maybe things 
would have played out differently. But she said it was okay for her 
moms to go, so she was to blame there. 


Maybe it was her fault. 


If she never went in the first place, things wouldn't have turned out 
to be a mess. If she threw or did poorly on purpose, maybe she 
would have never been asked to take a picture. If she knew what 


exactly was affecting everyone, maybe she could help them instead 
of being so engrossed in the game. If she hadn't experienced 
massive sensory overload during the tournament, no one would 
have even been affected in the first place. If she knew beforehand 
that her anomalies were likely to cause an issue, maybe her 
mothers could have solved everything beforehand. If she wasn't into 
games, maybe none of this wouldn't have happened. 


And now she's stuck, locked outside of a GameStop waiting for the 
police to come, no way to contact her mothers. The sign that she 
made on her own and a reminder of what she is, tucked away in her 
sweatshirt for the police to find, are all she has now. 


It's like sweet sixteen all over again. 


Dreaming of family... 


The first thing Heather had asked for before coming back to life was 
a TV head. "I think it would be cool" was the only reason she gave, 
and no real other reason was needed. 


Over the course of the next week, there was a lot of information she 
had to absorb from her new mothers. Not like she didn't expect it; if 
she could be brought back to life, anything was possible. It just didn't 
occur to her the scope of the information she had to learn. After 
many questions and conversations, she learned some important 
things. 


1. Going outside with a TV head would be bad unless it was to 
costume parties, conventions, meetups where cosplay was 
allowed, or on Halloween. Heather realized this when asking 
for it, which was fine, but still a problem at times. Neither mom 
could figure out a workaround for now, but they'd try. 


¢ If she goes outside, she had to be careful no one tried 
to "take off" her head. Nothing good would come of that. 
They felt very protective on this matter, enough to not 
even tell her what this was protecting her from. 


3. Homeschooling would be a thing, but the both of them would 
be lax about it. They understood how stressful high school 
was. 

4. Dahlia Price used she/her pronouns. Andressa Santos used 
they/them, though she/her wasn't out of the question for 
Heather if she ever forgot. 

5. She was anomalous by the very nature of her existence now. 
That meant if she wanted anything cool, she could ask either 
of them. They'd just have to approve it. 


¢ There were other anomalous things out there, but they 
wanted to be careful about what she got exposed to. 
Just in case. 


7. She had to stay with Andressa in New Mexico. Dahlia would 
be at college most of the time, and aside from any occasional 
visits to leave Ohio that she could score, she'd talk to the both 
of them over video calls. In a year, they'd have to see what 
the living arrangements would look like since Andressa would 
be coming back from her year off. 

8. Neither mother would let her smoke weed. The logistics of that 
were hard to figure out, so really, she just shouldn't get high 
from any method, period. There was a room in Andressa's 
apartment where they'd smoke away from her, and outside as 
well. This was fine with Heather; she had no plans to do so 
regardless, but she appreciated this rule being there in the 
first place. 

9. They'd let her know about anything else important. 


It felt sturdy. There was stability and a structure of some sort, 
reliable housing and food and water, and most of all, her two parents 
loved each other. It felt nice. They were kind and lovely. They were 
her parents, her mothers, her best friends. New Mexico didn't seem 
bad. Apparently, heat wasn't an issue because her head could cool 
herself off. Everything seemed fine. 


And yet, she could never get a nagging thought out of the back of 
her head. She felt guilty every time she felt it. After all, she couldn't 
really pick her parents. And why should she doubt herself with such 
a nice family when her last one was, in hindsight, horrible? 


Still, it never really left her. Andressa and Dahlia... they felt more 
like her friends than her parents. They weren't that much older than 
her. Andressa was only 21. Dahlia was 20. She was still technically 
16 (does her body even age? Does she mentally age? How does 
that work?), but even accounting for a difference in maturity and 
experience, they almost always felt like older sisters rather than 
parents. It was disorienting sometimes. She always felt ashamed to 
see it that way, but it's not like she couldn't. 


It didn't quite feel like family. 


Heather found herself outside on the pavement. 


Right. She remembers now. It wasn't some bizarre dream after all... 
she went through her own punishment time at the jailers' place. (Not 
too far off from the police, really.) And yet she ended up back here. 
At this cursed GameStop. 


It took a little bit before she realized the full scope of the situation. 


"R-Right... shit... it's night. Las Vegas... GameStop... so I'm free. 
So what do I... do... | guess | just should sleep behind the store. 
Yeah. | guess..." It was nighttime, and yet this part of the city was 
surprisingly empty. She always assumed Las Vegas was another 
one of those Cities That Never Sleep. Thankfully, everyone got 
some shuteye for her. She got up and walked behind the 
GameStop, body aching and head spinning, a dizzy face plastering 
the screen. 


As she sat down next to a garbage can to better hide herself, she at 
least felt thankful nothing actually broke. Her head was intact. Body 
was okay. No bones broken. Now she had to wait. Wait for... what? 


"| don't know. | don't know." What a horrible night to have a curse, 
huh, she thought to herself, and she giggled even if it was pained 
laughter, because she could at least find some solace in the 
situation. "Suffering is a fact of life. You deal with that or you go 
under, Heather. Don't go under like you did today. Don't go under 
like you did long ago. Just... stay intact. They'll find you soon 
enough, right? Soon." 


The sound of feet running at her snapped her out of dreamless 
sleep. Two pairs of feet. Four feet. Cleats and flip-flops. In the 
winter. Someone was wearing cleats to run, but flip-flops in winter. 
Her mommy told her a joke about how she was fine wearing nothing 
in even the coldest weather because of her Brazilian blood, so that 
would mean — 


"HEATHER|" 


She barely had time to process it before arms linked around her, 
tears running down her clothes and screen. 


"M| 3 M poe |) 


"H-Hey, hey, i-i-it's okay, we found you, y... you're safe, hoooly 
fuuuck." Dahlia was the closest to losing it. Heather never asked for 
the ability to cry, if that was even possible. She'd done enough of 
that. But she almost wanted that back now. 


"We got you. We need to take you home. I'm sorry. We're sorry. We 
shouldn't have been so irresponsible." 


Irresponsible. 


Irresponsible was the word pinging around in her head as they 
picked her up and carried her to the car like a queen, as they started 
to drive home, as Dahlia put on Megadeth to get herself to stop 
crying, as Andressa played Have a Nice Life to calm themself down, 
as they switched seats so Dahlia could sleep. Irresponsible. 


She wanted to agree. She wanted to tell them that wasn't true. 
Which of the two was it? 


"Heather. I'm sorry. The both of us are." Some hours later, enough 
that the sun started to breach the landscape, and mommy brought 
her back down to Earth. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be 
mad, or disappointed, or relieved. Andressa’s tone felt like a kid 
apologizing to their mother. Her mothers didn't feel that different 
from her after all. 


"It's okay." Maybe half-truths would help. Andressa sighed, and 
nodded. They probably felt the same. "I think... right now, | just want 
sleep." 


"That's alright, sweetie. Sleep as much as you want." 


Heather leaned onto the window and closed her eyes. It was hard to 
power down with a road so inconsistently bumpy as the one they 
were traveling on. It was an hour before she got to overhear a brief 
conversation her mothers had, presumably thinking she had fallen 
asleep. 


"Hey... Andy." 

"Hmm?" 

"We have no idea what the fuck we're doing." 
"Yeah." 

"Let's stop fucking acting like kids." 


"Right..." 


"Yeah..." Dahlia sniffled. 


"We're raising a kid. We can't be her friend. We need to be 
mothers." 


"Mmhmm... love you, hun." 
"Love you too, darling." 


It was the best rest she got in months. 


For her (technically) 18th birthday, Heather got a Nintendo Switch. 
She let herself believe that she earned it this time. 


Database error? 


FROM: Jr. Researcher Will Jameson 
TO: Technical Researcher David Rosen 
RE: Database error? 


Hello, Researcher Rosen. Jr. Researcher Will Jameson 
here. Writing to report possible error in the database. 
According to RAISA, | am granted Level 2 access to 
SCP-2140 despite me being a Level 1 personnel. 
Furthermore, | have no prior or current project tied to 
SCP-2140. | suspect a system compromise. Can you 
please look into the matter? 


Sincerely 
W. Jameson 


Rosen looked at the new e-mail in his inbox, and groaned. His eyes 
shifted to an adjacent monitor, with the tab "SCP-2140: Access". 


Hu, Zhi 2 2/2140 
Hyde, Shane 2 2/2140 
Jab, Mimi 0 2/2740 
Jake, Christian H. 3 272740 
Jameson, Wiii 1 22140 
Jane, Augustine Maria2 2/2140 
Jem, Emerald 4 2/2140 
Diamond 

Job, Raphael Tobias 4 272740 
Jong, Im-soon 2 2/2140 


"Geez, what's with all these people asking me about 2140 
clearance?" Rosen switched to another tab labelled "Templates for 
Known Issues" and scrolled down to the relevant issue. 


Issue: SCP-2140 (Level 2/2140 clearance) 


Hi, [INSERT NAME OF PERSONNEL]. | have checked 
with RAISA and find no irregularity with the system. You 
are cleared for Level 2 access regarding SCP-2140. For 
certain SCP objects, personnel can be granted higher 
levels of access compared to their actual security 
clearance. It is mentioned in the Employee Guide, so | 
would suggest reviewing that again. 


Rosen copied and pasted the template as part of his response, 
editing only the necessary. The end result was: 


FROM: Technical Researcher David Rosen 
TO: Jr. Researcher Will Jameson 
RE: RE: Database error? 


Hi, Jr. Researcher Jameson. | have checked with RAISA 
and find no irregularity with the system. You are cleared 
for Level 2 access regarding SCP-2140. For certain SCP 
objects, personnel can be granted higher levels of 
access compared to their actual security clearance. It is 
mentioned in the Employee Guide, so | would suggest 
reviewing that again. 


Rosen 


Quickly, Rosen clicked "Send" and moved to other similar e-mails. 


Will Jameson was inside a courtroom, standing behind the bars of 
the accused's stand. He looked out at the judge, who read out the 
sentence. 


"And you, Will Jameson, are hereby declared guilty of the murder of 
Cronus Jameson..." announced the judge. 


"Ah!!!" Will Jameson sprung up from his bed, with cold sweat down 
his face. 


He was inside his bedroom in the staff dorm at Site-742. It was 
nighttime, 0330 local time precisely. Jameson grabbed his head and 
shook it. 


"That dream again..." he muttered, as his free hand switched on the 
lamp. 


With the slightest bit of illumination in his room, Jameson regained 
his composure and opened up the drawer. Inside were snippets of 
newspapers, encased in plastic wraps. On top of the small pile was 
a newspaper clipping stating: 


PHANTOM STABBING! 


Cronus Jameson (62) was found murdered in his home, 

stabbed by an unknown attacker. No traces indicative of 
the attacker are found at the scene of the crime. There is 
no indication of breaking and entering. 


"What do | got to do with Dad's death?" he wondered. 


The next morning, Jr. Researcher Jameson prepared another work 
day at Foundation Site-742. Located in Sarawak, Malaysia, 
Jameson ultimately felt isolated as a foreigner in this country and as 
a newcomer in this Site (or the Foundation, in general). He 
approached his desk, and set up his desktop. While his hands 
moved about to clear his desk, his mind was fixated at the dreams 
that haunted him so. 


"Maybe it's guilt, that | could not prevent Dad's death. Yeah, 
definitely guilt. Dreams are rarely literal." he thought. 


"Morning Will!" someone greeted Jameson. 


Taken aback, Jameson snapped back into reality and was greeted 
by Researcher Nurul, his colleague and senior in the Foundation by 
nine months. 


"Hey Nurul..." Jameson replied, as Nurul took her seat in a cubicle 
next to Jameson.