Before that kind friend, the god-emperor was nothing more than 
Jack, the lost autumn spirit looking for home. Jack kneeled and the 
fog around them coalesced into rain with his bitter weeping. 


His companion took the disco ball off his shoulders with all the 
kindness, all the patience of a parent watching their child's first taste 
of adult pain. The silvery sphere was set to the floor to continue its 
work unattached to any god or emperor. Then the pumpkin head 
was placed back where it belonged and Jack felt, for the first time in 
too long, a bit of wholeness come back to him. 


The friend extended a hand, smiling kindly. An idle breeze brushed 
leaves off the sidewalks to curl around the disco ball, protective. 
Afraid. 


"They'll be alright. You'll see, when you're out." 


Jack took the open hand in his own. A chill autumn wind howled and 
all that remained was a silver sphere nestled in a bed of bone dry 
leaves. 


The Minions@ day at the scp 


The Morality of Insects 


Epsiode #: 063 Transcript Provided 
Guest Stars: Dr. James by 3N Network 
Petahn, Mr. Michael 

Simmons 


TRANSCRIPT - 8:00 PM, 3/19/2022 


DALY: Hello, America. I'm your host, Daniel 
Daly, and welcome to America Ahead! 


DALY: As you probably know, the recent locust swarms 
have been absolutely debilitating to the enviroment and 
agriculture in general. Recently, thanks to the company 
Sotherby-Charleston & Partners, the government has 
created the Locust Active Removal and Prevention Agency, 
known as LARPA for short. | know the American people are 
probably wondering about this new organization, so without 
further ado, | welcome Mr. Michael Simmons and Dr. 
James Petahn! 


[ AUDIENCE APPLAUSE ] 


SIMMONS: Hello, Mr. Daly. Pleasure to meet 
you. 


PETAHN: Same here. 


DALY: Now, for those who don't know these gentlemen, 
Mr. Simmons is the Administrator of the LARPA HQ, and 


that the Ballet Academy is "terrifyingly" sapient. The Ballet 
Academy is unlike other SCP-967 subpopulations in the 
compositional homogeneity of its members: all members of 
the Ballet Academy are humanoid entities wearing battered 
US Army gear circa the Vietnam war, with fleshless moose 
(Alces alces) skulls for heads, and loudspeakers on their 
chests. All encounters with the Ballet Academy have been 
identical: a group of twenty entities will face the exploration 
team, and the loudspeakers on their chests will activate, 
saying "And now, the Ballet Academy will perform Igor 
Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring, with original choreography by 
Vaslav Nijinsky". The entities will then dance for 28 minutes 
(during which no music is audible). 


« SCP-966 | SCP-967 | SCP-968 » 


Dr. Petahn is the Lead Researcher at the same site. So, 
onto our first question. What does LARPA do? 


SIMMONS: Well, um, it's pretty much exactly in the title, Mr. 
Daly. Locust Active Removal - we're trying to find pesticides 
that can limit the locusts, and Prevention - we're trying to 
find a way to make sure this won't happen again. 


DALY: How do you find these pesticides? 


SIMMONS: | can't answer that, I'm really only the manager. 
I'm sure you could though, right? 


PETAHN: Totally. We just take some of the locusts, and we 
expose them to different ranges of pesticides, then we 
analyze the effects of them. Mostly the results turn out 
nega- 


DALY: Sorry to interrupt you, Dr. Petahn, but why are these 
locusts so resilient to standard pesticides? 


PETAHN: These locusts are akin to a different strain of 
locusts, so to say. It's similar to an evolutionary step - the 
pesticides just don't have the same reaction to the locusts 
anymore. 


DALY: A strain of locusts? Is it like a different species, or is 
it like a- 


SIMMONS: It's the species Chortoicetes terminifera, 
commonly known as the Australian Plague Locust. 


DALY: The Australian Plague Locust? In America? That's 
quite a far-fetched, isn't it? 


PETAHN: Not at all, Mr. Daly. It's highly likely a small 
populace was brought over and they replicated. 


DALY: Who would bring a small populace over besides 
scientists? 


SIMMONS: Even two locusts were enough to start 


something like this, Mr. Daly. 
DALY: Were? 


SIMMONS: Were, are, could have been, whatever. You get 
the point. 


DALY: Anyway, what is the estimated impact of LARPA? 
PETAHN: The impact of LARPA on what? 
DALY: The enviroment and the economy. 


PETAHN: Well, if LARPA does its job, the US won't need 
the Ration Acts and eventually there will be much more jobs 
in agriculture. We're working with LUBILOSAD to ensure it 
happens soon. 


DALY: That takes care of the environment, but what about 
the locusts? 


SIMMONS: Let me use an old FBI term. Terminate. With 
extreme prejudice. 


DALY: You want to kill all of them? 


PETAHN: Most certainly not, Mr. Daly. That's why Mr. 
Simmons here is not a doctor. 


SIMMONS: | may not be a doctor, Dr. Petahn, but | am still 
the LARPA Administrator. 


DALY: Since we're on that topic, Mr. Simmons, do you 
think it's ethical to drive a species to intentional extinction? 


SIMMONS: It's not about ethics, Mr. Daly, it's about the job. 
| was appointed to save lives and that's what I'll do. 


PETAHN: And you'll do that by eradicating all the locusts 
from the face of the Earth, | assume. 


SIMMONS: I'll do whatever | goddamn have to, Dr. Petahn. 


You surely understand, Mr. Daly? 


DALY: I'm inclined to agree with Dr. Petahn here, Mr. 
Simmons. The Earth will already survive, but will it be the 
same at cost of a spe- 


SIMMONS: Now's not the time to be an enviromentalist, Mr. 
Daly. 


DALY: And now's not the time to commit genocide, Mr. 
Simmons. 


SIMMONS: You can stop giving the American people 
morals and start giving them cold, hard facts. You call the 
spraying of locusts genocide, Mr. Daly? When you step on 
an ant do you cry murder? 


PETAHN: | think he was just trying to make a point, 
Simmons. We shouldn't be too harsh to our host. 


SIMMONS: Too harsh, Petahn? Too harsh? You get off 
your high pedestal. You would rather make the choice to 
sacrifice lives - American lives - just so you can collect 
some more of your locusts, doctor? A few locusts for an 
economy? A few locusts for 21% unemployment? No, Dr. 
Petahn. | will not stand by and watch as these bugs destroy 
the way of life. 


PETAHN: These few locusts for a solution, Simmons. You 
try eradicating these locusts, and they will just pop right 
back up - maybe even worse than before. This testing will 
help guarantee we can contain them, so that they won't be 
a problem. Look what the original LUBILOSA did. They 
helped find the effects of the fungi Metarhizium on locusts. 
It's still being in use today. Just think about what LARPA 
can do. Also Simmons, calm down. Take a vacation or 
something. | know you're stressed and you're seriously not 
considering what you're saying. 


SIMMONS: | know exactly what I'm saying, Petahn. | will 
exterminate those locusts to save the human race. | will 


give every single United States citizen a flamethrower and 
tell them to burn if | have to. | am qualified to do that, Dr. 
Petahn. And | just might do it. 


DALY: I'm not too sure that you're qualified to make that 
decision, Mr. Simmons. Just as General MacArthur wasn't 
qualified to make the decision to drop atom bombs on 
Korea. And he didn't, Mr. Simmons, because the people in 
power respected ethics enough to tell him "No." 


SIMMONS: You want to sit here and discuss ethics? That's 
the problem with you people. When the line is drawn in the 
sand you sit there in disbelief that it exists. This isn't about 
the winner of the next Super Bowl or the Republicans vs the 
Democrats. This is about the future of humanity. We are 
down to the the line. We are down to the line! And | will not 
sit here and discuss ethics. | am leaving. Good day to you, 
Mr. Daly. 


DALY: Well. He's got one hell of a temper. Maybe even has 
a couple of screws loose? 


PETAHN: Sorry about that. It may be so, but he's very 
qualified for the job. We'll keep him in check - he's 
extremely stressed right now. Err... just a word to all the 
Americans who just watched that: | promise you that these 
few locusts will not be at the cost of the American people. 


DALY: Indeed. | believe you all are making headway with 
this. 


PETAHN: Thank you, Mr. Daly. 


DALY: We'll talk a bit more about LARPA after the 
commercial break. But for now, stay put America! 


[ AUDIENCE APPLAUSE ] 
< END TRANSCRIPT > 


Site-121/LARPA HQ 
Mesa Verde, California - Site-121 Break Room 
03/20/2022, 1:09 PM 


Two men stood in the corner of the break room at Site-121, sipping 
on iced coffee and talking to each other. One, who uncannily looked 
like a young Walter Schellenberg, was dressed in a knee-length 
white lab coat, slightly dirty, as well as long black pants and a red 
inner shirt. This man was slightly angry at the other, who was often 
compared as a Robert Kennedy-type fellow. The Kennedy fellow 
was wearing a light-grey suit, complemented by a white shirt and 
purple tie. After a few minutes of silence, the man in the lab coat 
spoke up. 


"Yesterday was a goddamn disaster, Simmons. What were you 
thinking with the Colonel Jessup act?" 


"| Know, Petahn. I'm sorry. | got agitated and way too defensive. | 
know it makes me look bad." 


"Not just you, now the citizens think a whack job is running LARPA. 
It makes us a// look bad." 


"You did alright." 
"| had to save what reputation we had. You owe me." 


Simmons sighed. "Well, the least | can do is advance your testing. 
That sound good?" 


"It'll do for now." 
"Are you sure, Petahn?" 


"It'll be fine, Simmons. | promise you. This will all be over in a couple 
of months. Maybe even by July. I'll take care of that... thing." 


"| believe you. I've got to go; I'll see you later. We're having an 


opening banquet later. You coming?" 


"Sure. I'll be there." 


ARBH-Class Debrief File 
Insect Hell 


The Last of LARPA 


The Most Dangerous Game of All 


Drip 


He was lurking in the shadows of an old oak grove, gazing at the 
dark, brooding form of the facility on the hill above. She was there. 
Drop after drop fell on Feldspar's head, as he remembered the day 
of the betrayal. The day she came for them. The day they died. 


Drop 


It wasn't supposed to be like this. Feldspar remembered the first 
time he saw her, all those years ago. Just a frightened young 
woman, seeking protection from some very dangerous people. She 
never said how she located them, or what she did to earn the ire of 
the Double Blade Triad, but she knew his family had a solid 
reputation of dealing with folks like them, so she turned to them for 
help. His father, hard man though he was, never even thought about 
refusing, and they took her in. 


Drip 


She was the most beautiful thing he ever saw: slender, gracious, 
fragile, every feature of her glowing with an almost radiant 
whiteness. She was everything he and his family weren't, but she 
had nowhere else to go. Hidden beneath the wet leaves, he recalled 
the first few days they spent together, during that long, lost summer. 
She seemed so shy at first, seemingly folding into herself every time 
anyone tried to talk to her. He couldn't blame her, considering what 
she'd been through; though she tried very hard to hide them, 
Feldspar could see the cuts left on her arms where the Triad hurt 
her. He swore he would never let their blades touch her again. 


Drop 


They grow close during her stay with his family. She quickly opened 
up to them, and they in turned soften up to her. She became fast 


friends with his little sister, and they'd spend entire evenings sitting 
on the balcony, chatting about nothing much and giggling like little 
girls. His mother was very protective of her, never letting her help in 
the kitchen in fear she'd hurt herself. Even his father soon learned to 
respect her. And Feldspar, well, he was smitten from the very first 
moment he saw her, and getting to know her better only made it 
easier to love her. They used to go on long trips together, hiking 
down the winding dirt roads that surrounded his family's grounds. 
What a pair they must have seen to an outside observer- she fleet- 
footed and light, he heavy and ponderous. She seemed better now, 
after a few months in the company of good people, but he saw it 
was just an act. She was still hurting, still scared to the bottom of her 
soul from the day the Triad would come for her. 


Drip 


That day came, and much sooner than any of them expected. They 
were just coming back from one of their hikes, when, rounding the 
corner, he saw a flash of garish orange and dull steel, and they were 
upon him. There must have been at least a dozen of them, and their 
long blades flashed upon his body a hundred times within moments 
of their initial attacks. Their attack was fast, brutal and 
overwhelming, but they forgot one very important thing. 


Blades didn't do much against the likes of him. 


He broke them, every single one. Each pain they inflicted upon her 
he returned tenfold, and when he was done, so was the Double 
Blade Triad. He let a few of them get away, their long blades 
shattered, to send a message to the rest. They told him he didn't 
understand, that she wasn't what she appeared to be. He didn't 
listen. 


Drop 


Once the Triad was gone, they could finally be together. Those were 
the happiest days in Feldspar's life. He would return from a day in 
the field to find her waiting for him, her face covered in ink from one 
art project or another. He would laugh and wipe it away, and look 
into those big black eyes of hers, thinking how lucky he was. His 
family couldn't have been happier for them. Things were looking 


good. Things were looking great. Until that day. 
Drip 


Feldspar shivered as he recalled that final walk home. It was a day 
much like this one, grey and gloomy, and he was anxious to be 
home. He was covered in mud, tired, wet, and in desperate need of 
a good wash, and so he returned an hour early. He noticed 
something wasn't right the moment he entered the house. The usual 
ambiance noises were replaced with a deathly quiet, and there was 
no sign of the residents. He couldn't imagine his family going out on 
a miserable day like this, so he went around the house, calling their 
names, getting increasingly worried with each empty room. The 
house was empty. Lost for thought, he went on to check the only 
place left- the garden shed. 


Drop 


She was there, standing over the corpses of his family, looking down 
on her grisly work. His sister, who was her best friend, looked like 
she was strangled in her sleep. His mother, who cared for her like 
one of her own, must have been ambushed and strangled from 
behind, from the expression now forever frozen on her face. His 
father, who let down his guard to make her feel at home, seemed to 
have put out a fight- her skin, still white as snow, was carrying the 
marks of his last desperate struggle. It wasn't enough. Finally 
noticing him, she gave him a smile like a razor blade. "How was 
your day, honey?" 


"Why?" Was all he could say. 


"Why?" she said, slowly advancing on him, "Because you never saw 
it coming, because it was easy, because you let me. Because | 
could." 


"We saved you! We looked after you! How could you do this to 
them!? They loved you! | loved you!" 


For a moment, something like the a shadow of regret flashed on her 
face. It was gone just as fast. "Well. Bad call, | guess. Goodbye."