"Some... Some universes can only open up when they're in correct 
alignment with us." It was utter bullshit, Tristan knew it was utter 
bullshit, Broderick probably knew it was utter bullshit, but damn if he 
wouldn't try to cover his ass. 


"| see," said Broderick, his face hardening slightly. "Tell me, Dr. 
Bailey, how is your father?" 


"He's dead, sir. Has been for the past 17 years." Tristan felt like he 
was a school child lying to the principal about who killed the class 
rabbit. 


"Ah. Condolences." Broderick shook his head. "Drop the charade, 
Bailey. | know what you've been doing for the past eight years. You 
and your brothers." Broderick brought up some pictures on his 
tablet; one was clearly dated 2005, and showed Tristan, Tom and 
Trevor hanging out with a very much alive version of their father. 
"You will be disciplined for this, no matter what the Director says." 


"| take full responsibility, sir." Tristan was shaking slightly, and 
clicked a pen in his pocket to try and calm himself down. "| 
encouraged them to go with me to see Tyler Bailey." 


"It's rather unhealthy,” said Broderick in a neutral tone. "Seventeen 
years your father has been dead, and you're still grieving. It's time to 
move on, Dr. Bailey." He typed out something on his tablet. "That is 
all. Dr. Hennessy will deal with me for the remainder of my time in 
this department." Broderick moved around Tristan, out of the room. 


Tristan Bailey just stood there for a good few minutes, looking 
stunned, before going to his room, opening a bottle of Antarctican 
wine Tom had sent him, and downing it, feeling numb the whole time 
he drank. 


«Tax Man|Hub|Bugs in the Process» 


Bugs in the Process 


Then there's the matter of the entomology department, 
over-budget for the fifth straight year. Not the most 
flattering statistic, considering that the most expensive 
incident in the department's history never actually took 
place. 


Dr. Marshall Grant sipped coffee placidly as he filed his paperwork, 
ho-humming the morning away. Fingers moved deftly across the 
key-pad as he entered his findings from the most recent acquisition 
to Site-87's growing entomological collection. A Stag Beetle. Normal 
in most respects, except that a genetic sequencing revealed greater 
similarity to the Bull Elk than to any other animal on file. Also, the 
tendency of the females to lactate was particularly interesting. 


"Yo Mack! How's about you gimme sommin' ta eat? I'm starvin' over 
here!" 


"Vinnie, | gave you a nice juicy locust not twenty minutes ago," 
Marshall replied with a roll of his eyes. He looked down at the tank 
next to his desk to see the mantis pressed up against the glass, 
pleading with his eyes. His tight denim pants were worn through the 
knees, and the tiny gold chain about his neck sparkled in the light. 


"Fuck that bug shit! Gimme a burger! A hot dog! ...A 40? Come on, 
I'm bored outta my skull!" 


"You haven't got a skull, Vinnie." 
"So?!" 


"Take it easy, alright? Just be patient and wait until lunch," Marshall 
said, shaking his head as he raised his cup. 


KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 


In his shock, the coffee sprayed everywhere. The Keyboard, a stack 
of papers, a cup filled with pens, pencils, and thumb tacks; 
everything was coated in hot brown spittle. Vinnie the mantis 
snickered quietly as Dr. Grant fumbled with the cup and grabbed for 
the paper towels under the desk. Rushing with reckless abandon. 
The knock came again. 


"Just a second!" Dr. Grant called, but the door was already ajar, and 
in its jam stood a tall, bald man with a rather sleek looking tablet PC 
which made the white-plastic of the CRT on the desk feel positively 
ancient by comparison. Nevertheless, there were rules. "Excuse me, 
sir? This is a closed laboratory. I'm going to have to ask for your 
clearance before you come in here." 


The Tax Man smiled, and produced a shiny white badge with simple 
black lettering. Level-4, general access, administrative. "Of course. 
My name is Matthew Broderick, I'm here for your bi-annual audit." 


"That was today?" Marshall heard himself asking, and swallowed the 
words as fast as he could. "Of course it was! Thank you, please 
come in! Mr... Broderick? Is that right?" 


"Yes. And you must be Dr. Marshall Grant of entomology.” It wasn't 
a question. With no flourish at all, the Tax Man produced a stylus 
and began tapping and scratching at the screen of his top-of-the-line 
machine. His eyes darted around the room, searching for 
something. Marshall hoped it wasn't for his conversation partner. "... 
Is Dr. Churchwell available so that we may begin?" 


"Erm, well..." as stealthily as he could, Grant slid a birthday card in 
front of Vinnie with an awkward smile on his face. "No I'm here by 
my... She's out today. With the flu. It's been making the rounds 
and... Is there... Would you like to come back tomorrow? I'm sure 
she'll be back tomorrow." 


Mr. Broderick looked at his watch with a stern frown. "No, Dr. Grant. 
This is the time we have scheduled for the audit. I'm sure as her 
leading researcher you're familiar enough with the department to 
assist me." 


"It's just... Well, I'm rather in the middle of something at the—" 


"We'll begin with the laboratory inspection first." Broderick 
interjected. "| understand some of the equipment here is a little out 
of date." 


"...And that's one of the most challenging parts of working in the 
department," Dr. Grant said, indicating the new acquisition, already 
filed under E-2663-01. "This little lady, to just see her in the wild, 
you'd never know she was anomalous. A little tanner than the 
garden variety. A little fuzzier perhaps. But it isn't until you watch her 
feeding her young that it would even occur to anyone that something 
about her isn't normal." 


Broderick leaned close and scrutinized the tiny creature from above 
his glasses. "So this is the only one, is it?" 


"Erm... Well, no. Most of these are just sample populations. There's 
a rule about working with insects: for every one you see, there's 100 
you don't," Marshall said. "What we're working on is-" 


But he was cut short by some hard, loud taps on the tablet in the 
Tax Man's arms. "...Go on, Dr. Grant. Your plans to contain the rest 
of them?" 


"Well... it... It can't be done. Not without a much larger budget, 
anyway, and even then... See, insects live and breed very fast, and 
even with—" 


The Tax Man raised a hand, which presently inspired Marshall Grant 
into silence. "A larger budget? Dr. Grant, you are aware that for the 
past five years, this department has averaged four hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars over budget forecasts, are you not?" 


"Yes, but—" 


"And yet we're not, statistically soeaking, any closer to a complete 
containment of anomalous insects in this region?" 


Dr. Grant was getting flustered. "Now, hold on a minute! It's not as 


"This is a simple yes or no question, Doctor. If you cannot answer it, 


perhaps we can find someone who can?" The Tax Man's steely 
eyes fixed Marshall Grant firmly in place, stylus poised, mouth 
drawn into a tight frown. A frown that said emphatically that he 
would not move from this spot until he received a simple answer to 
his perfectly straightforward question. 


And in his building disquieted anger, Dr. Grant buckled. "No." 


"| see," the Tax Man said, making marks deftly across his touch 
screen. "Is there any feasible remedy to this situation?" 


"What do you mean, remedy?" 


"Well, rather than wasting resources attempting to contain and 
neutralize these species,” he continued, "could Foundation interests 
be better served by contracting with a well trained exterminator?" 


"That's... What?! You can't just kill off a whole species of insect! 
There are so many variables to consider here! Not just the 
ecological consequences but in many cases there's a risk of 
anomalous backlash!" 


The Tax Man looked up from under his glasses with a smirk. "Come 
on, Dr. Grant. You're not honestly afraid of the 'keeter skeeters' are 
you?" 


"MARTYYY! MARTY DON'T TAKE THAT SHIT!" 


The color drained from Dr. Grant's face as a look of stern 
disappointment was painted across the Tax Man's. 


"Dr. Grant, are there any other employees in the office with us 
today?" Broderick asked with all the delicacy of a cinder-block. 


Marshall swallowed hard. "...n...No, sir. That would be, uh..." 


"LET ME OUT OF THIS THING! I'LL RIP THAT CHEAP ARMANI 
KNOCK-OFF RIGHT OFF HIS BACK!" The birthday card fell down, 
and there Vinnie Baggadoughnuts stood, arms raised in aggressive 
posture, wings fluttering, tiny cigarette smoldering in the corner of 
his mandibles. "NOBODY TALKS TO MARTY THAT WAY BUT ME. 
YOU GOT THAT, JACK?" 


"E-5570. Specimen 01-A... he-uh...it's a 'Leafer Mantis’. We..." 
Marshall tried to think of some excuse. Some plausibly deniable 
reason. Something about how, when the phenomenon was finally 
understood and resolved, one was kept alive for record keeping 
purposes, to test the cognitive limits of the species. But all of it 
sounded hollow, and none of it explained what the specimen was 
doing next to his desk. So fuck it. If he was going to be crucified, it 
may as well be for the right reason. 


Marshall padded the sweat from his balding head, pulled his shirt 
down, and stood up straight. "His name is Vinnie. He's my pet." 


The Tax Man's nostrils flared but once; all the theatrical anger was 
gone from him, replaced with a sort of sullen contempt and disgust. 
As Vinnie raged and rattled his cage, Broderick slipped his stylus 
back into its home on the side of the tablet, and let out a long, 
disapproving sigh. 


"Thank you, Dr. Grant. | believe that will be all." The tax man turned 
and walked away, looking disappointed. Or maybe a little defeated. 
When the door closed, Dr. Grant collapsed into his chair, heart 
pounding and underarms sweating. 


"YEEEAH!"" Vinnie said, raising his pincers in triumph. "You better 
run!" 


"Oh, blow it out your ass, Vinnie," Marshall said, head in his hands. 


«A Multi-Universal Affair|Hub|There's Magic in the Air» 


The Stuff Industry Hub 


From the Office of CEO Petter 


New Hires 
Old Hires 


Mr. Qian, Ms. Chevalier, Mr. Tobe, Mr. Fateh Khan, Mr. Ali Sing 
Black, Mr. White 


Welcome to The Stuff Industri 


Welcome, new hires, to The Stuff Industry! You have begun 
working environment in which your employee status does n 
family of The Stuff Industry! As small business, your hours 
accommodate YOU because The Stuff Industry cannot func 


As a new hire, listing is what expected of you: 


* Have great working environment attitude 

* Openness to working on others and accepting valuable review 
* Love of people 

* Desire for dynamism with co-workers 

* Sharp mind and open heart 

* Desire for synergistic cooperating with co-workers 

* Love of life 

* Open mind and sharp heart 


We deal in things here that cannot be explained with simple 
things unexplainable. THIS IS normally placed! What we do 


people will be effect by our product. This is exciting potenti 
You will never have experience of such dynamic and friend: 


As CEO | am normally very engaged in office working, but v 
cafeteria people and enjoy your company and conversation 
business and synergy requirements. No one else will have | 
level of employee business managing. We keep cafeteria ve 
lunching. If YOU are not enjoyment from the food, I am not ¢ 
to fix. 


Remember first rule of war YOU DO WHAT YOU ASK YOUR 
done here will be of outrage or delirium beyond you're abilit 
together for great future dynamism. We fail only if together. 
all. 


Petter Vangen, CEO 


THE STUFF INDUSTRY 


To boared: Please see attached memo for delivering to new hires. | 
make personalized, but | don't have to sign all of them. | will make 
signature in MSPAINT and we can copy it on new forms for new 
hires so it look good and formal ;) 


ps | make company logo and scan, but | want it made pretty for 
official use, not my silly crayon drawing. 


- Petter Vangen 


Also please attach make clear the following new products fit for 
produce whether it is done or requiring more to it. 


PFMS03931-Magic Paper 


* Sometimes you only have so much to say. Why waste 
precious two-sided paper when you can buy only what you 
need? This "Magic Paper", patent pending, is available at a 
fraction of the cost of normal paper, and allows you to use 
only as much as you need, no waste! As an added bonus, you 
can use the other side as storage space if your desk is too 


messy! 
$112121-Panacea 


¢ Pain in your neck? Go to a doctor; it's a thyroid issue. Go to 
another doctor; it's just cramps. Go to another doctor; IT'S 
CANCER. Can't get a straight diagnosis for your problem? 
Solve it all at once. This is the sort of thing that changes the 
world, if only the world would let us. Due to limited supplies, it 
is not recommended for being used too much. As well, testing 
has yielded unusual side effects, so schedule an appointment 
with our company doctors before deciding on our product. 
We're going to make it through this, | promise you. 


SAS4414-Smith Jim, the Most Metal 


¢ The future is yesterday! Now you can have a friendly robot 
friend of your own! Friends always do things for their friends, 
don't they? Now Smith Jim will reward your friendship the best 
way he knows how — by giving invaluable life advice, and the 
free option to process any sort of metal object into finer metal 
object. Lead to gold? Not quite, but you will finally be able to 
make something useful of all that worthless stuff you've got in 
your basement! 


Please be sure for letting me know. 


From: Tobes - 2011 


INCIDENT REPORTS 


Incident 19, 3 April 


¢ No confirmation as to whether this was our people. Guys, we 
can't have this kind of shit happening, especially in active 
work areas. We're shutting down operations in 19 because of 
this. Everyone in 14, 15, 22, 91, and 102 be prepared to pull 
out at a moment's notice. 


will, however, be issued to all staff working with SCP-734 that full 
face masks are a MANDATORY part of the haz-mat equipment 
needed for working with SCP-734 and may not be removed at any 
time while on-duty. SCP-734 may be a baby, but it is still capable of 
causing a degenerating tissue disorder in anyone coming in contact 
with any living SCP-734 cells. This includes mucus. Agent 

removed her face mask, stating “He's just a baby, I'm holding his 
hands, it'll be fine!”. SCP-734 then sneezed on Agent 's face, 
causing “flaking” to initiate from twenty-six points on her face and 
neck. 


Photographic records of the effect's progression upon her will be 
provided to any staff with questions or complaints related to 
SCP-734 and its containment procedures. 


Project Update // : Testing of SCP-734 atage confirms a 
98% score on the Aeslinger Loyalty Index. Entity has been approved 
for anomalous weapons training. 


« SCP-733 | SCP-734 | SCP-735 » 


To: Stuff Board 

From: PGT_Chev2000@.net 
CC: 

Subject: Heads up 


Heads up, guys, we've gotten some people looking in to 
our time at "Stuff" Industry. It's been almost a decade, so 
it's probably not a problem, but if any of you have got 
some unpleasant things to be dug up from your time 
under Vangen, watch out, some moron calling herself 
"Dodger" is asking a whole lot of questions about the 
business. Most likely she's harmless, but I've done some 
research into the group she works for, and it sounds like 
they're all in the "know", if you get what | mean. 


See you all on the other side 
Paget Chevalier 11/19/99 


First sighting 
Second sighting 
Third sighting 
Fourth sighting 


Week 1: Looking for Stuff 


To : SPF_Dodger@*.org 

From : CortezCae@*.org 

CC : MISSION WATCH GROUP SE ASIA 
Subject : "Stuff Co." Assets 


Dear Friends,