“He’s adorable,” Dictator declared, leaning down to kiss the pup on 
the nose. He panted excitedly. “Il would take you home if | could, yes 
| would!” Dictator cooed, squishing the corgi’s cheeks in their hands. 


Eli smiled, and for a moment, he saw the childish innocence 
returning to Dictator’s eyes, and that was all he wanted. 


“Do you want to ride him?” Eli asked suddenly. “We won’t go far. We 
can get on at the closest platform and get off at the first stop after 
that.” 


“Wait — we’re allowed to do that?” Dictator jumped up suddenly, all 
signs of exhaustion long gone. “I’d love to! Wait, will we get in 
trouble? | don’t wanna be stuck in my cell for a week.” 


“We won't get in trouble, it’s classified as safe, and personnel are 
allowed to ride it since we figured out it’s not any danger. In fact, 
sometimes we have to ride it, to make sure he doesn’t get kidney 
stones again, or get sick.” 


“Oh... well, good for us then!” Dictator replied cheerfully. “But, uh — 
how exactly do we get on? Do we have to crawl or something?” 


“You'll see,” Eli told them. “Just follow me. And make sure you stay 
close, alright?” 


Dictator nodded, and stepped up next to Eli as the three of them 
made their way through the wooded area. They did not have to walk 
far; an uncovered section of the dog was resting a few meters away. 
Eli checked his watch as they walked up, then turned to Dictator. 


“It'll be about five minutes. Make sure you step back a bit.” Dictator 
nodded, and stayed back along with Eli about a meter away from the 
section. After a few minutes, it appeared to wriggle with excitement, 
before a tiny opening opened up along its side. 


“Whoa — does that hurt him?” Dictator asked, worry tinging their 
voice. 


Eli shook his head. “No, he’ll be fine. We’ve done some tests before, 
and it doesn’t seem to bother him.” 


A few moments after the opening appeared, a few tiny entities 
walked out of it. They were only a few centimeters tall, and Dictator 
blinked in confusion as they walked away from the opening. “So... 
tiny people come in and out of it?” 


“Yep. Now, do you still wanna get on?” 


Dictator stared at Eli, as if he had just asked the most ridiculous 
question. “Yeah | do! Let’s go!” 


They rushed forward, and in the blink of an eye, Dictator too had 
shrunk down to the size of the entities leaving 2952. Whether or not 
they noticed it in the moment, Eli did not know, and he simply 
shrugged as he stepped forward. There was no noticeable effect 
when he did shrink down, and he only noticed it when he tilted his 
head back and saw grass stalks towering over him. 


“Alright, kid, where’d you run off to?” Eli asked, walking in through 
the opening and looking around. He spotted Dictator a few seconds 
later, sitting down on one of the flower seats. They were gazing at 
the strange scene around them, sitting between an elderly couple 
and a young mother with a small child. They were dressed in 


strange robes, though Dictator did not seem to notice it. Or, if they 
did, they simply did not care. 


“Hi Eli! | think | got the last seat,” Dictator said. The inside was quite 
packed, with several people already having to stand. Eli realized 
with slight dismay that he was going to have to stand, and he 
sighed, leaning on a pole nearest to Dictator. 


“So what is this place? It looks... really weird,” Dictator asked, 
leaning in a bit closer to Eli. 


For all intents and purposes, “weird” described the inside of 2952 
quite well. The walls, ceiling, and floors appeared to be made of 
birch bark wrapped around thin twigs. Dictator bounced a bit on the 
flower cushion of the chair, which did not seem to bother the 
passengers around them. 


A voice crackled over what they assumed to be an intercom. “Now 
departing the Innermost Forest stop. Next stop is the Outermost 
Forest.” Dictator was quiet for a few moments after that as the 
system began to move. 


“So what’re you guys dressed up for?” Dictator asked the young 
mother beside them before Eli could tell them to shut up. 


“Oh, the Beltane celebration!” The young mother replied, moving her 
toddler to her other leg and bouncing it up and down to keep him 
occupied. “It’s going to be great. There’s the family-friendly one, and 
the big one. We usually go to the family-friendly one, since Beltane 
celebrations tend to be a bit... x-rated, if you Know what | mean.” 


Dictator gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve been studying 
Paganism for a little while now,” they said. Their eyes drifted over to 
a poster plastered on the right wall, reading “GET READY FOR THE 
NEWEST BLOCKBUSTER, STARRING [REDACTED] IN THE 
ROLE OF [REDACTED].” Must be the doings of the Foundation, 
they thought, before continuing their previous line of thought. “And, 
uh, a lot of it seems pretty... adult. I’m not really used to it.” 


“You should come to the family-friendly event then! It’s so much fun, 
especially for someone your age,” the young mother said. “There’s 


lots of food, and fun games to play. It'd be right up your alley.” 


“I'd really love to, but unfortunately my schedule is booked,” Dictator 
said after a quick glance at Eli. “But, um, thanks for the info.” 


They were quiet for quite some time after that, swinging their legs 
back and forth as the system moved along. Eli was mostly checking 
for any abnormalities, but he could find none. The corgi seemed to 
be in relatively good health, considering the activities that went on 
inside of it. 


The ride only lasted about twenty minutes, before they started to 
come to a slow stop. “Now approaching Outermost Forest. Thank 
you for riding.” 


Dictator stood up, reaching for the bar that Eli was holding on to as 
they finally stopped. The doors on the opposite side to which they 
came in opened, and the two stepped out after Dictator gave a 
friendly wave to the young mother. 


“| think I'd like to do that again sometime,” Dictator remarked as they 
walked away, back towards Eli’s car that had, inexplicably, appeared 
in their path. 


Every SCP - Part 4 - Friends 


Previous Part | Next Part 
SCPs Presented: SCP-237, SCP-2715 


Oliver was the first one to wake the next day, and he took the time 
between his waking and Dictator’s eventual waking to ponder on the 
set of circumstances which brought him here. 


Anyone who looked at the cat would be able to tell, almost 
immediately, that something was... different about him. He did not 
behave like a normal tiger, not even tame ones that people usually 
kept as pets. There was something almost human about him. But 
then, that would not be surprising. That was because Oliver himself 
was a human. 


Though he was not currently human, Oliver had the brain and 
memories of being human. He had died nearly four years ago now, 
the date of his death coinciding with the date of the birth of his new 
body. Looking down at his paws, he unsheathed his claws, gently 
gripping the sheets of the hard bed beneath him. 


To say he missed being human would be an understatement. Oliver 
yearned to be human again, so he got as close to it in this body as 
he could. He could read, and use rudimentary signs to “speak.” But 
most of all, he protected the human he loved the most with 
everything he had. 


And that human was Dictator. 

As they stirred next to him, Oliver's tail twitched and he chuffed, 
looking over his shoulder at the small human. Dictator’s eyes were 
half-open, and they smiled wide at him. 


“Hey, boy. You thinkin’ about stuff again?” 


Oliver closed his eyes and exhaled a purr, before getting up to rest 
his gigantic head on Dictator’s chest. They scratched behind his 
ears, and he twitched his tail tip in gratitude. 


Life as a tiger was not so bad, after all. 


Dictator was slower to start than usual, but Oliver did not seem 
particularly rushed. He simply sat down and groomed himself while 
Dictator ate breakfast (a bowl of cereal that had been pushed 
through the door) and got ready for the day. 


Eli did not come in until a few minutes before Dictator was finished. 
Oliver knew this because, unlike Dictator, his sensitive hearing could 
pick up the noise of the door to the observation chamber opening 
and closing. Eli was the only person who came in and out, so it was 
reasonable to assume that it was he who entered it. 


Moments later, Eli’s voice came over the intercom. “Hey kid, you 
almost ready to get going today? I’ve got somethin’ to show you.” 


“What is it?” Dictator asked, eyes shining. Oliver purred at the sound 
of their enthusiasm 

“It’s... well, it's a special one, that’s for sure,” Eli replied hesitantly. 
“But probably something you'll be interested in.” 


“Okay. What do you think, Oliver?” Dictator asked, turning to face 
the tiger. He chuffed in response, playfully butting his head against 
Dictator’s shoulder. 


Whatever it is, I'll protect you. Even if it isn’t dangerous, I'll still 
protect you. You are all that matters in my life, my Charge. 


Oliver liked to think that, somewhere inside of them, Dictator knew 
what they were saying. 


“So where are we going today?” Dictator asked, trying to keep in 
step with Eli. Oliver trotted beside them, easily keeping up with the 
two humans. 


“We're gonna be looking after two today, the first one for two hours 
and the second one for four,” Eli replied. “First one is SCP-237, 
technically -2 instances, though. There’s sixteen of them in total, 
fourteen of them speak Japanese, and of those fourteen only three 
are known to speak English.” 


“Oh. Well, will | be able to talk to any of them?” 


“Maybe, if they’re interested. They don’t really talk much nowadays. 
They’re all pretty sure their creator is dead.” 


“...Oh. Well... was he... or, maybe they... like mine?” 


“From what I’ve heard, their creator wasn’t exactly a nice guy. | think 
they’re better off without him, but they seem to think otherwise.” Eli 
paused to look down at Dictator. “Do you miss your Overseer?” 


“No,” Dictator replied quickly. They paused then shook their head. 
“Well, only at first. He was- well, everything to me. It’s hard to move 
on after that, you Know? And what I’m thinkin’ is... maybe these 
guys just need time to get themselves together.” 


Eli became silent, and stayed silent until they approached the door 
to the temporary holding area where some of the instances were 
being kept. Dictator peered around Eli to get a glance at the 
instances as he opened the door. 


“So they’re... statues?” 


The instances were situated behind a deceptively thin glass panel, 
with a pair of cameras observing their movements. Eli nodded, 
sitting down in a chair behind the control panel itself. Dictator sat 
down next to him. 


“Yeah, kind of. They’re made of clay and polymer, but they’re pretty 
soft. It’s like... they haven’t been baked, y’know?” 


“Got it.” 


Dictator stared at the glass panel for a while, before one of the 
statues — what appeared to be an emperor penguin — started 
staring back at them. Dictator swallowed, then turned their head 


away. 


“|... think | understand how they feel,” they said finally. “But | don’t 
think — no, | know — they don’t have the ability to understand how 
they feel just yet.” 


Dictator fell silent, and no one spoke after that. 


SCP-2715 was, in Dictator’s eyes, slightly underwhelming. The 
teenager sat on her bed with her legs drawn up to her chest, lasered 
in on a thick hardback. She sang softly to herself as she read, and 
scratched her nose whenever she turned a page. 


Dictator frowned at her through the one-way mirror. “She’s a kid.” 


“Eighteen isn’t a kid. And | don’t recall age being a factor for 
anomalies,” Eli said pointedly. “You read her file?” 


“You tell me.” 


Eli leaned back in his chair and propped his heels up on the control 
board. “She doesn’t get many visitors. She says it’s fine, but | don’t 
believe her.” 


Dictator parsed this, then said, “How do | use the intercom?” 


“Red one.” Eli gestured to a rather prominent button on the control 
board. Dictator pushed it, and a quick burst of white noise flooded 

the speakers. 2715 jumped, then glanced back at the space where 
the mirror was. Silence from both parties. Eli looked smug. 


“Uh... hi there,” Dictator said after a few moments. “So, uh, let’s get 
down to business | guess — | mean, crap, this isn’t business, but uh 
— what’s your name?” 


2715 frowned. “Oi, McLaughlin, are you giving the interns free reign 
over the mic again?” 


“What? No.” Dictator could see Eli snickering. “I’m not- not an intern. 
I’m anomalous, like you.” 


SCP-837: Multiplying Clay 


Item #: SCP-837 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-837 is to be stored in its 
fully factored state when not undergoing experiments, with each 
factor stored in a separate plastic container. All experiments should 
be conducted in rooms with reinforced flooring. 


Due to potentially dangerous consequences of cross-contamination, 
at no point are SCP-705 and SCP-837 to be stored at the same site. 


Description: SCP-837 is a quantity of brown clay with two 
anomalous properties. 


The first is that it neither releases nor absorbs moisture. Exposures 
to heat or water have not materially altered its composition, retaining 
its level of ductility, malleability, and texture. 


The second property is its unusual reaction to being separated and 
combined. While both of these occur as easily as with normal clay, 
the results are non-arithmetic. When two pieces are combined, the 
resulting quantity is both larger and heavier than the individual 
pieces. When two pieces are separated, the resulting quantities are 
much smaller and lighter than they should be. Density remains 
approximately 1500 kg/cubic meter. 


Measurements have shown that each quantity is an integer number 
of drams, an Imperial unit of weight equal to one-sixteenth of an 
ounce, or 1.8 grams at standard gravity. Combinations of two units 
of clay result in a multiplication of their weight in drams, rather than 
an addition. Six (6) drams of clay combined with five (5) drams yield 
thirty (80) drams, rather than the expected eleven (11). When 
separated, the clay is divided into factors of the original weight. A 
piece weighing 50 drams could be separated into 5-dram and 10- 


“Sério?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Woah. Dude, that’s pretty neat. 
This isn’t a rescue attempt, is it?” 


Dictator shook their head, though the gesture was lost. “Nothing like 
that. And you still haven’t told me your name.” 


“I’m 2715, that’s my only answer for you. Has been for a while now, 
will be for a while more.” 


Dictator took their hand off the button and gave themselves a couple 
seconds to sigh frustratedly. Then they put their hand back on it. 
Once more unto the breach, dear friends... 


“My name’s Dictator. What’s yours?” 


The girl blinked twice in Dictator’s general direction, then a warm 
smile began to carve itself across her face. “Name’s Daniela. Nice to 
meet you, Dictator.” 


Victory. “Nice to meet you too, Daniela.” 


Moment of quietness. “What kinda name is Dictator?” the person 
who used to be SCP-2715 said. “And why’re you visiting me?” 


Special circumstances,’ or that’s what they said. I’m a Thaumiel.” 
Their chest puffed up with importance for a brief second, then 
deflated when they saw the look of incomprehension on Daniela’s 
face. “I contain other anomalies,” they explained. 


She nodded. “You’re pretty important then.” 


“Yeah, but | have to be watched all the time. | don’t think they trust 
me very much,” they joked. 


“Amen,” she replied. 
“So why’d they put you in here?” they said. 


“Voluntary admission, if you can believe that. | made a lot of shitty 
decisions when | was younger. It’s safer here than where | was.” 


“Where were you?”