“MEEEE,” he continued. He suddenly noticed a sensation he never 
felt before in his body. A fireball slowly formed in his hands. So she 
is going along with my plan! he thought. A few seconds later he shot 
a beam of pure energy to SCP-2301, bathing the battlefield in 
octarine light. The name of the first king of Hawaii echoed across the 
valley. 


He could get a glimpse of the girl as she was being annihilated by 
the attack. “Please come to play with me again, Onii-chan,” she said 
before disappearing in the beam. “Don’t get the wrong idea; it’s not 
that | like you or anything,” continued a high-pitched voice in 
Takeru’s mind. “Stupid!” 


The Pond 


"Remind me again why we drove this thing.” 


Katie thumps the steering wheel, hard, as it sticks again. This time, 
thankfully, unsticking it doesn't swerve the Winnebago into traffic. 
"Because it's a hell of a lot cheaper than hotels, and | for one don't 
have the money to take this trip any other way." 


Rena remains unconvinced, slouched in the threadbare passenger's 
seat with her arms crossed. "In that case, remind me why we're 
taking this trip." 


Katie raises an eyebrow and casts a significant glance towards the 
back of the vehicle. Rena glances over her shoulder. Alex is still 
back there, curled like a cat on the ‘Bago's thin sofa. He's angelic 
when he sleeps; she can so easily forget. 


She sighs heavily and goes back to staring out the windshield. 
"Right." 


They don't speak again for another ten miles. Even then, the 
uncomfortable silence only breaks when a deeper-than-usual 
pothole makes the old vehicle buck under them, actually slamming 
Rena's head into the ceiling. She yelps loudly, swearing between 
clenched teeth. 


"Quiet!" Katie hisses, throwing another glance over her shoulder. 
"He's still as/eep for Christ's sake!" 


Rena, clutching her aching head, growls unintelligibly. "Please tell 
me there's a stop ahead." 


Katie glances at her, back to the boy stirring on the sofa, and pulls 
into the right lane. "We'll get some gas. I've gotta fill up anyway, if 
we want to make it to the Badlands by tomorrow." 


They exit the highway into an utterly forgettable little town. Barely 
more than a knot of buildings snagged on the juncture of highway 
and old prairie road, it nonetheless has what they're looking for: a 
gas station and a rest stop. Katie pulls the creaking, clanking old RV 
up to the pump and lets its laboring engine shudder gratefully to a 
halt. 


"The real trick will be getting it started again," Rena mutters, 
clambering out her door. "I'm going to the john." 


"I'll fill it up. Grab a bag of chips on your way back, will you?" 


Rena returns in a few minutes, marginally refreshed and bearing 
chips, to find that Katie has moved the old RV to the edge of the 
parking lot. Inside, she and Alex are sitting side-by-side on the sofa. 
The boy leans against her, shivering a little under her arm but 
smiling at whatever story she’s telling. 


"Hey," Rena called, leaning on the doorframe. "How you doing, kid?" 


Alex looks up. "Rena! Hey, you brought chips!" He takes the 
proffered bag and tears it open. Around a mouthful of potato: 
"Thanks." 


Katie tightens her arm gently, squeezing the boy a little closer. "Alex 
was just telling me about his dream." 


Rena feels the corners of her mouth pull down. "Oh?" 
"Dinosaurs riding rocket ships." A relieved grin. "Just the usual." 
Rena relaxes. "Sounds like fun." 


"Yeah, it was okay," Alex interjects, crunching down on another chip. 
"I'm getting kinda stiff though. Can we get out for a walk?" 


"| saw a pond over past the bathrooms," Rena offers. 


"Oh, cool! Frogs?" The boy worms out from under Katie's arm and is 
on his feet in a flash. 


Rena can't help her grin. "Yeah, probably. Come on, let's go see." 


The three of them stroll across the parking lot, sharing the chips and 
laughing. Alex's innocent happiness has already washed away 
much of the wear on Rena's nerves; by the time they pass the 
bathrooms and round the cinder-block wall, she's fresh and happy 
again. 


As they round the corner, Alex takes in the scene: an old pond, 
scummed over with duckweed and algae, set like a dull sheet of 
green plastic between high grassy banks. Katie made sure he's 
wearing old clothes and his rubber boots, ready for a brief 
adventure; with her nod of permission, he clambers down the 
shallowest of the banks to stand by the water's edge. 


Mud, greenish-brown, sticky, and studded with the pathetic tiny 
leaves of washed-ashore duckweed. Reeds. A discarded beer can. 
The pond is perfectly flat. 


Alex frowns, peers narrowly into the water at his feet. "Uh, Mom? 
There's something in here." 


Katie and Rena bend closer. "Like what, hon?" Katie asks. 
"It's got really big eyes." 


Rena stares into the water. She can't see anything unusual — just a 
lot of duckweed. The water's opaque, impenetrable. 


"Wow," Alex breathes, "look at it! Mom, wow!" His eyes are tracking 
upwards, following something Rena can't see as it rises out of the 
pond. "That's the biggest frog I've ever seen!" 


Grinning hugely, the boy starts walking forward straight into the 
mire. 


"Alex!" Katie snaps. "Come back!" 


"Aw, Mom." The boy glances over his shoulder. His smile is pure 
childhood: he's seen his prize, and only it will now suffice. "It's just a 
frog!" 


And before they can say anything else, he sets off at a run. Green 
water and duckweed splash up around him as he disappears 


SCP-970: The Recursive Room 


Item #: SCP-970 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: All sites affected by SCP-970 
are to be acquired by the Foundation, with a suitable cover 
established. Civilians attempting to enter the site are to be 
discouraged, preferably within the boundaries of local law; 
trespassers are to be administered a class-A amnestic. 


In light of Experiment-04 and Addendum 970-02, armed personnel 
are to be stationed by entries into affected sites. 


Description: SCP-970 is a spatial phenomenon wherein a collection 
of rooms are looped on themselves. In all cases found, this is by 
means of a series of doors appearing in the walls, all in a straight 
line, such that it is possible to walk forwards and end up at the 
starting position. The alteration to the rooms does not affect 
neighbouring rooms and floors. There is as of yet no known 
explanation for the appearance of this phenomenon. 


SCP-970-01 is a cell-block within Sector 19, and the first example of 
the SCP-970 phenomenon encountered by the Foundation. It was 
constructed with the intent of housing class-D personnel, and 
fulfilled that purpose until / / , when several D-classes breached 
containment in an escape attempt. The investigation into the 
incident led to the discovery that a series of doors had appeared in 
the cell-block, leading into rooms on the opposite side of the 
corridor. It was quickly established that the layout of the building did 
not support this addition, and that the rooms were following a non- 
standard geometry. 


Since the incident, further such examples of the phenomenon 
have been discovered, with % of these in an 800-kilometer radius 
of Sector 19. One notable example was found within the western 


completely under the pond. 


Rena screams. Katie is already bolting forward, tearing off her 
jacket. "ALEX!" she howls. "Come back!" 


In her horror, she's utterly focused on the ripples left by the vanished 
boy. All she can think is to bring him back. 


Otherwise, she might have seen the water bending. 


At the center of the pond, it dents downwards. The edges curve up, 
raising the water level on the banks an inch — a few inches — a 
foot. The whole surface of the pond warps into a shallow cone. 
There's a ringing in the air, a crystalline whine too high to hear. 
Distant growl of bending metal. Squealing brakes. 


Acar knocks Katie off her feet. 


It had been a middle-aged white sedan. Now it's a half-ton projectile, 
pulled into the pond like iron filings to an industrial magnet. Katie is 
gone in an eyeblink. 


Another car, and another. They rocket out of the parking lot and 
slam into the cold green water, bullet-fast but not leaving so much 
as a ripple. The next one takes Rena with it. The next is their 
Winnebago. 


The ringing fades. Slowly the pond settles back into its banks. 


Green water, grassy mounds. Hulks of years-rusted cars, half- 
submerged. No trace of the three newcomers. 


All is quiet again. 


The Price of Knowledge 


Blood has long been regarded as an important part of 
our rituals. Its powers and properties have been 
extensively studied by many famous priests. Among the 
first was the Holy Father Dichardu of Himay, who began 
his research in the First Cycle of Oyatl. 


William did not enjoy his job as a history professor. In fact, he hated 
it. He hated the repetitiveness; the same lectures, over and over 
again, given to hundreds upon hundreds of bored, sleepy students 
every day. There was no hope of newness, of discovery or 
exploration. He wanted a change of pace, something that was not 
just about the Fur Trade or the Opium War or the Industrial 
Revolution. There had to be something more to discover, something 
that he had not yet stumbled upon. 


And that was how William found himself in the University library, 
peering over mounds of history books, looking for new material to 
learn from. But there was little promise for him there. Pages and 
pages of useless, dreary information about useless, dreary events 
lay in front of him like dead leaves in the fall. 


He knew that his passion for knowledge was borderline fanaticism. 
But he couldn't help that; it was who he was. Obtaining knowledge 
was exponentially more thrilling and satisfying than anything on 
Earth. It was better than all the sex, drugs, food, music, and art 
combined. 


William would give everything for knowledge. 


He gradually lost all sense of determination for his quest, and drifted 
away from the dry history books. Wandering between bookshelves, 
he let himself relax within the comforts of the library. The homely, 
snug atmosphere eased his mind, and allowed him to forget his 
troubles. 


He found the nondescript black book tucked away in a forgotten 
corner of the shelf, sandwiched between a dusty copy of E.L. 
James' Fifty Shades of Grey and a moldy Twilight by Stephenie 
Meyer. 


William groaned. If it had been abandoned here, it must be just as 
horrible as its neighbours. He took it off the shelf anyways. Who 
knows? He might be able to get a cheap laugh out of it. 


Tucking it under his arm, he went back to looking through the 
shelves. 


And on the Fortieth Length of the Great Siege, Alkri led 
fourscore of his finest warriors and crept into the city 
through a secret passage that had been dug underneath 
the walls. Slaughtering the slumbering sentinels, Alkri 
opened the gates of Julabin and let his Black Horde into 
the city. For three Lengths and three Sets, Alkri and his 
men pillaged and raped and burned, until the mighty 
Julabins were no more. Thus the Great Siege ended, 
and Alkri once again led our people to glory. 


William slowly lowered the book with trembling hands onto his desk. 
His face was pale from the lack of sleep and nutrition, and with 
some difficulty he clamped his tired eyes shut. But even as he saw 
nothing but darkness, he could still picture the words floating around 
in his mind. 


Creaking out of his armchair, William checked his digital clock. 
6:30am, September 21. He had been reading nonstop for the past 
60 hours. He needed something to drink. Something strong. William 
went to go look for vodka. 


"Yes sir, her condition is stable now....no, I'm leaving for London 
tonight...yes, of course...thank you, goodbye." 


He hung up the phone. With a heavy sigh, William slowly creaked 
back to his armchair. He hated lying, but he couldn't go to work. Not 
when he still had to finish the book. Who cared about English or 


French or German history when there was still so much to learn 
about the Daevites? He had read through hundreds, thousands of 
pages already, but it seemed like he had only just scratched the 
surface. There was still more to know, more to discover. 


Yunoc's banner was designed by Hrusga of Guinen. It 
depicts three Irun lions guarding the Spear of Uin, with a 
background of indigo and vermilion. The lions represent 
strength, courage, and charisma, of which the House of 
Yunoc possesses in surplus. The Spear of Uin 
represents Guinen, a city of impressive influence and 
might from which Yunoc hails. Lastly, the indigo and 
vermilion background represents Yunoc's respectable 
profession as a warrior-chanter. 


Flip. Page 1877. He kept reading. 


He was losing weight. Too much weight, in fact. William had not 
been a skinny man. But now, he barely pushed a hundred pounds. 
He didn't care, though. The Daevites were waiting. 


The Divine Father then blessed all who knelt before him, 
and declared, "True sons of lloquim, you are the Chosen. 
You are the Blessed. We shall defeat the unbelievers, 
and take back our Holy City!" And so in the Third Cycle 
of Kiluya, thirty thousand heroes of Ambuil marched for 
the unbelievers at Orpija, to reclaim the City of Worms. 


Flip. Page 3630. He kept reading. 
William hated to leave his study. That would mean leaving the 


Chronicle, and he hated even the thought of that. But he had to eat. 
Steeling himself, he dashed to the kitchen. 


William finished the hastily-made sandwich as fast as he could, and 
then rushed back to the book. With crumbs clinging to the sides of 
his mouth, he eagerly picked it up again. 


The Urimbja Ritual is an extremely important tradition, 


dating back to the time of our King the Okalyt. The 
Urimbja begins as the Sun climbs over the horizon on 
the Sixth Length of Yatzel, when the villages still slumber 
and the cities still dream. This is the time for boys to 
become men. Those who are of 12 Cycles rise with the 
Sun, and travel, by foot, to the great Numbik Sea. There, 
they are to wash in her waters until the Sun touches the 
great Inu Peaks. 


Flip. Page 5936. He kept reading. 


William no longer knew the time of day. Was it June? Or August? He 
didn't care. The smell of the leftovers and dirty dishes piled all 
around him went unnoticed. Drinking water had become something 
mechanical: lift the bottle, tilt, swallow, put it back down. His eyes 
never left the pages. 


The women wake before the men, and collect the grain 
in baskets before heading out to the pens. They water 
and feed the fowl and hogs and cattle, before attending 
to the crops. One Turn after the rising Sun, men of the 
village are roused, and break their fast at the head of the 
table, joined by the elders, wives, daughters, and sons of 
the settlement. Then, the men carry their axes and 
hatchets to the forests, where they cut down pine for 
fires and elm for the home. 


Flip. Page 7851. He kept reading. 


William flipped to the next page when he heard a groan above him. 
Just as he tilted his head up, the water pipe broke, and the liquid 
spewed into his study. 


"No no no NO NO! FUCK." 


Frantically, William shielded the book from the water with his body, 
and raced out of the house. Where could he go? The library? They'd 
kick him out if they saw him. That's it! His office at the University! 
William ran, bony legs bending and buckling. 


He locked the door and slumped into an uncomfortable chair. But he 
couldn't feel a thing now. Checking to make sure he had not 
damaged the book, he continued reading.