"That's good, my little friends," Dr. Mann said, stepping into Dr. 
Kald's field of view. "That's right where | want him..." 


Dr. Kald could only seethe inwardly as Dr. Mann began the 
transplant. 


Month 2 


Dr. Mann was sitting in his lab, happily reading the latest copy of 
Resurrectionist's Monthly (much better than that rubbish in the 
Gravedigger Times) when he heard an odd hissing sound. He 
looked around, trying to locate it. It seemed to him that it was 
coming from somewhere overhead. He started to walk over to his 
office to call maintenance when he detected an odd odor. Then he 
noticed his nose feeling a bit numb, and realized something was 
wrong. He was halfway to the door before he collapsed. 


Dr. Kald walked in with a scalpel and a smile. 


Month 3 


Dr. Kald was writing a report on his latest research. It had been 
going well enough, though he was starting to grow bored of it. There 
was hardly any dissection or vivisection at all involved in the work. 
He sometimes thought his talents were being squandered. He licked 
the tip of his finger as he flipped the page. He paused. There was 
something off with the taste. He looked at the paper, seeing if 
perhaps he'd spilled something on it, or on his desk. Yes, there 
seemed to be some discoloration. He wondered what it might be, 
and whether it might have something to do with the purple kangaroo 
that had inexplicably shown up his lab. 


As Dr. Kald explored better living through chemistry, Dr. Mann 
(showing some extra weight) made his way into the lab with a grim 
look and the autoscalpel humming. 


Month 4 


Dr. Mann was enjoying a good bath. The bubbles were just the right 
consistency and color (a sort of lime green) and he had his rubber 
ducky, Rinaldo, with its round doctor's reflector on its forehead. He 
began singing some of the better songs of the BeeGees, enjoying 
the bathroom's acoustics. Then he removed his snood for some 
basic mustache care. First he washed out the wax, letting the curls 
go from his whiskers, and then wetted them thoroughly. This 
accomplished, he took the bottle of mustache shampoo and opened 


the lid. As he did, there was an outrush of escaping gas. "Oh, 
bother," he said, as he passed into unconsciousness. 


Dr. Kald stepped into the bathroom, a determined look in his eye. 


Month 5 


Dr. Kald was sitting in his room, waiting for something to happen. 
He'd known for weeks that Mann was coming sometime. It was 
inevitable. His only chance was to be prepared. He'd hardly stirred 
from his room for a week, waiting, just waiting for Mann to make his 
move. 


There was a knock at the door. Dr. Kald narrowed his beady eyes. 
"Wer da?" he asked. 


"Delivery," said the voice on the other side. It didn't sound like 
Mann... 


Dr. Kald opened the door to find nothing but a large baby carriage. 
He looked around. There was no one in the hallway. He wondered if 
Mann could really think he was that foolish. 


Five minutes later, he had his gasmask on, as well as gloves anda 
heavy coat. He wasn't about to let Mann drug him again. 


He swept back the blanket on the pram to uncover what sort of 
mechanism powered the trap. 


Dr. Mann, in swaddling clothes and a pacifier, kicked out, taking Dr. 
Kald in the chin and knocking him straight out. 


Dr. Mann began to prep for surgery. 


Month 6 


Dr. Mann whistled as he pulled on the rubber gloves. It was time for 
a routine dissection. It was so fascinating to find out just how an 
SCP had killed someone. Had their kidneys liquefied? Their blood 


spontaneously released its oxygen? Or had their nervous system 
vanished entirely? It was always a delightful puzzle. 


The corpse today seemed a little bloated, though he'd been told the 
man had died very recently. Bloating normally took several days. 
However, there was some clear distension in the belly region. Dr. 
Mann made a note of it, and then looked over the corpse's other 
features, marking down the lividity of the face, the color of the 
fingernails, the way the corpse's eyes kept spinning several inches 
out of their sockets. Finally, he got ready to make the incision. 


As the skin slid open, a large boxing glove on a spring shot out, 
hitting Dr. Mann square in the face and knocking him onto his back. 


Dr. Kald waddled into the morgue, glaring at the body of his rival. 


Month 7 


Dr. Kald walked down the hallway, wondering why he'd been 
summoned by Dr. Clef. He didn't want to leave the safety of his 
room, but he wanted even less to miss a meeting with the senior 
doctor. 


He opened the door, and found himself in the dark. He stepped 
forward a few feet, and then the lights came on. 


He was standing on a bullseye painted on the floor. Around him, 
there was an odd collection of machinery and assorted contraptions. 
Ramps, conveyer belts, slides... It went on and on. 


A marble dropped into a chute, where it slid down to a spiraling tube. 
Gravity propelled it down to an escalator, which deposited it onto a 
conveyor belt. This in turn fed it onto a miniature Ferris wheel, which 
brought it onto the top of a ramp. The marble slid down until it 
landed on a small metal dish. The sound of this awoke a mouse, 
which began running on a wheel. The wheel cranked a small pulley, 
which turned on a treadmill. A dog tied to the treadmill began to run. 
After a moment, it began to pant. A CO2 sensor turned on, triggering 
the start of an engine. The engine turned a belt which spun a fan, 
which blew a balloon over to the other side of the room. The balloon 


reached a lit Bunsen burner, and popped. The force of the pop 
knocked over a delicately balanced book, which then knocked over 
another book, and another. The books (a set of encyclopedias, from 
what Dr. Kald could see) fell like dominoes, continuing on a long 
shelf that seemed to end just over Dr. Kald's head. He peered up to 
see what was at the end of it. It was large, round, and, he suddenly 
realized, precariously balanced. He realized it was a bowling ball 
only as it started to fall, and it was too late to move. 


Under the blanket of Dr. Kald's concussion, Dr. Mann worked. 


Month 8 


Dr. Mann was walking down the hallway when a very pregnant Dr. 
Kald hit him over the head with a clipboard. He turned with a 
triumphant grin. "| thought you might try that, so | protected my skull 
with a layer of carbon steel and foam!" 


"Did hyu protect zese?" Dr. Kald snarled as he kicked Dr. Mann in 
the crotch. 


"Oh, Britannia!" he cried in pain, collapsing to his knees. 


Dr. Kald kicked him again in his chest. "Hyu blasted Englisches 
Schwein!" 


Dr. Mann rolled with the kick, regaining his feet. "Big-nosed child- 
botherer!" he shouted as he aimed a punch at Dr. Kald. 


"Hoossy!" Dr. Kald said, grabbing Dr. Mann's mustache. 
"Home wrecker!" Dr. Mann said, grabbing Dr. Kald's hair. 


"What is this?" said Chirurg softly, looking out the window of his 
chamber door. 


"Oh, Chirurg!" Dr. Mann said, suddenly releasing his grip on Dr. 
Kald's hair. 


"Ve vere just..." Dr. Kald began. 


"| could see what you were doing," said Chirurg. "And it makes me 
very sad." 


Dr. Mann and Dr. Kald looked at each other, abashed. 


"But | know what is wrong," Chirurg continued. "It is obvious. Come 
inside." 


"Yes, Herr Chirurg," the two doctors said. They entered Chirurg's 
antechamber together. Chirurg bade them sit, and then made tea for 
them. 


"It is clear what is causing this strife," their paranormal paramour 
said. "Obviously, you both want to carry our child. | should have 
thought of this before. | should have known it would cause strife." 


"Er..." Dr. Mann tried to think of a delicate way of explaining that 
Chirurg was wrong, but failed. 


"But don't worry,” Chirurg said with a smile. "Papa has a solution. 

Trust in me." He held up a scalpel. The both of them realized that 

they were feeling more tired. It seemed they weren't the only ones 
who could play with soporifics... 


Month 9 


"Oh god!" Dr. Mann screamed. 
"| haff never known zuch pain!" said Dr. Kald. 
"Push!" shouted Dr. Geier, from her position at their feet. 


Herr Chirurg held their hand, looking proud and just a little bit 
worried as the delivery went on. After several fevered moments, 
there was a final push. 


The infant (which looked human if you squinted right) was placed in 
their arms for the first time. 


"Hold it oop ay lizzle higher," said Dr. Kald. 


to tell them otherwise. 


Note: Possible use for interrogation by the Foundation’? - 
Dr. Ursini 


Input: One (1) magazine as stated above. 

Setting: Very Fine 

Output: When fired, the bullets actively seek out a 
human target. However, the bullet still loses velocity as 
per normal, and the turning speed of the bullet can cause 
it to orbit around a human until it loses all kinetic energy. 


Note: Testing further with that magazine denied. We 
can't risk it flying through the corridors and causing a 
containment breach. -Dr Ursini 


+ Show Test Logs, Part 5 


Name: Dr. Armond & Agent McKnight 

Date: / /2017 

Total number of objects: Three (3) copies of The Lord 
of the Rings, by J.R.R Tolkien. 


Input: One (1) copy of "The Lord of the Rings". 
Setting: 1:1 

Output: Three smaller books: one copy of "The 
Fellowship of the Ring", one copy of "The Two Towers", 
and one copy of "The Return of the King". It should be 
noted that these books make up the "Lord of the Rings" 
trilogy. 


Input: One (1) copy of "The Lord of the Rings". 

Setting: Fine 

Output: A polished, gold-colored ring made of 
compressed paper. On the ring was the poem described 
in "The Lord of the Rings", inscribed in Black Speech. 
When worn, it was found that the ring fit all sizes and 
grew or shrank to accommodate the wearer. No other 
anomalous properties were exhibited. 


Input: One (1) copy of "The Lord of the Rings". 


"Move the bottle a bit," said Dr. Mann. "He can't drink properly like 
that." 


"You two make a lovely mother," said Dr. Chirurg, admiring his 
handiwork. It had taken a great deal of work to get two heads to 
function on one body. The body had to have sufficient bloodflow to 
support two brains, and sufficient oxygen introduced into the blood. 
But it had been worth it to make his darlings happy, and to give him 
the family he had longed for. He beamed. 


The infant fell asleep, safe in its mothers’ arms. 


Dr. Agatha Rights 


X:/Foundation/Personnel/Rights/Work/Boring Stuff/Extremely 
Normal Files/Nothing to See Here/Fiction/Slash/SCPs+Staff/Chirurg/ 
One Bad Mother.txt 


To: Dr. Agatha Rights 
From: Dr. Bright 
Re: Your Files 


Dr. Rights, while your stories are fascinating, please keep them off 
of the Foundation servers in the future. 


One Breath at a Time 


"An over-indulgence of anything, even something as pure as water, 
can intoxicate." - Criss Jami, Venus in Arms 


Bai trembled and clenched, writhing with senseless fury, twisting in 
the plastic chair like a trapped animal. 


The other group members shuffled and twiddled and looked from the 
ceiling to the floor. Yaling looked over sweetly, her exotically styled 
hair matching her colorful tattoos in a way that made her look like a 
tropical bird. "You're the last check-in, Bai." 


"| don't know. About any of it. | mean, | Know I'm an addict, | get that. 
I've accepted it. | don't know about... the rest of this. Like, you have 
to want to be sober, right?" 


"It doesn't hurt," Yaling laughed, piercings tinkling cheerfully as she 
nodded. The rest of the group fidgeted and sighed. 


"So, right now, | have to want to want to be sober. And it just seems 
like a lot to have in me. | don't want a lot of— | don't want pretty 
much anything. | wanted to drink, but you know what? I've been 
okay here. Like, it's rough, | don't feel great, but it's okay. | just 
thought I'd want something else instead and | don't. | don't want 
anything. | think | can keep not wanting to drink, after this. | just— | 
don't want anything else." 


Yaling gracefully finished a note in huge, looping characters and put 
her binder down in her lap. "Look, I'll tell you what | see," she 
twittered. "| see that you're here. Things took a long time to get this 
way, and they'll take a long time to get better, but today you're here. 
You're putting in effort to make a better life and find things you care 
about. So let's just focus on that, on what's happening right now, 
and... hey, this is perfect!" 


Bai gripped the table, white-knuckled. Bai's skin felt like it was about 
to crawl off, limbs thrumming with tension, chest crushing the air 
from its own lungs. The familiarity of these sensations did nothing to 
make them more comfortable. 


"Totally natural transition to our mindfulness exercise for today. 
Loving how that came together, so thanks, Bai. You've really been 
doing great with these, so | think today's is going to be a good one 
for you." 


Bai's spirit could have collapsed around the gaping absence. 


"| call this one the ‘leaf in the river,’ but it can be clouds in the sky, or 
a parade of monkeys going past. It's just another way of focusing on 
the moment. You can manage by narrowing things down to just what 
you're feeling right now." 


Right then, Bai felt tension, like sinew trying to pull itself free from 
bone. Starting at the wrists, trailing up through elbows and 
shoulders, pulling at the ribs until it felt like they would split. 


"So get comfortable. Close your eyes if you want, or leave them 
open if that's easier. See what you're seeing, hear what you're 
hearing. Start with your breath, like always. Pull it all the way in, feel 
the feeling of it.” 


Bai felt torque. Bai felt cold electricity. Fee! what you're feeling. Bai 
dove into the buzzing emptiness, hoping this time to hold it for 
longer than a few seconds. 


"Notice your thoughts, and let them pass quietly. Cling to nothing, 
but push nothing away." 


Bai stopped pushing back against the strain, let it become just a part 
of everything else, let it all fall away together. This place, some kind 
of center, had been out of reach before. The only thing left was a 
dense knot of white fire. 


"Just put them on a leaf in the river, and let them float on by." 


The tension itself went first; Bai allowed it to gravitate itself over the 
event horizon, and it drifted on into oblivion. 


"Just like a cloud in the sky," Yaling said. "Greet it as a friend, and 
let it on its way." 


The loneliness went next, and the self-directed anger. All it took was 
a moment of awareness to let go, and they were devoured by the 
void. 


"Your thoughts are just like your breaths," Yaling said. "You can feel 
them come and go. Just things that happen, and then move on." 


All the neglected relationships. The arrogance, the bad decisions, 
the wasted time. Bai let it drift away and watched as the immense 
pressure sheared everything into dust. There was a deep loosening, 
as the roots of something gave way. A massive tangle of judgments 
and preconceptions — my se/f— Bai wished it a friendly goodbye 
as it floated into oblivion. 


And then the immense force left too, gently but certainly. There was 
only a peaceful emptiness, as beautiful and perfect as new fallen 
snow. 


Bai immediately wanted more. 


".,.and, there we go," Yaling chirped. "It's been two minutes already. 
You made it through mindfulness practice for today." 


Bai blinked, reorienting. Continued to focus on breathing. That one 
sensory experience, magnified until it crowded out everything else. 


"Moving on, moving on. We're in section four of the emotion 
regulation handout, it's page... uh... forty six." 


The breathing was everything. There was no room for the pressure 
when it came rushing back. 


Bai reached for the paper with fingers that were suddenly gone.