She looked at her toaster and could feel its functions, reach through 
it into the outlet, and faintly feel a rat gnawing on a large important 
wire. She could warn her parents that they might have a rat problem, 
say that the fuse box looks faulty, tell them the fridge isn't as cold as 
it should be. She could search the house all the way into her room, 
and she could turn on the cat feeder without having to lift a finger. 
She did so, felt it hum, and felt so very, very alive. 


She glanced around the room, searching for some more things she 


could test her abilities on without drawing attention. A home 
computer she could email, an alarm clock she could make go off, a 
TV absently playing Fox News that she would be glad to shut up. 


"Wow." 

"What?" 

"You finished so fast." 

"| have homework. It was delicious. May | be excused?" 
"If you have homework, of course. Lights out by 9:30." 
“Course, mom!" 


She was halfway up the stairs, contemplating her abilities. She could 
see everything's internal workings, activate things without a power 
source - where did the electricity come from? - in the right situations 
she could unstick an elevator, operate dangerous equipment from 
afar, anything with wires were her - brains had wires, brains were all 
wires and electric impulses, she could be a therapist, she could find 
cures for Alzheimer's, she could look into her mom's mind and see 
what she's seeing... huh. 


She peered down beneath the landing, spying her mom between 
two stairs. She knew it was dangerous, if she screwed up who knew 
what would happen to her mom. But she can look through things 
much easier than she can affect them, what's wrong with taking a 
look? She hesitated for a second, contemplating the situation. It 
didn't take her long to weigh her options. 


Rachael closed her eyes, concentrated, found the glowing oblong 
thing that was her mother's brain, and held it. It was difficult, she 
winced at first, touching it was like a constant static electric shock. 
She got used to it, her mom noticed nothing. She dug deeper. 


She could feel the impulses, thousands of nerves going off at once, 
information coming in and out. She thought that in time, she might 
be able to read these electric messages. She barely knew what she 
was feeling, surges and waves soared through Rachael's body, her 
eyes felt like popping out of their sockets, but she held on, she 


maintained. She got used to it, and absently wondered if she looked 
suspicious right now. Maybe she was slumped on the stairs. She'll 
know soon enough, she thought. 


She concentrated, hard, her head felt squeezed and twisted as she 
tried to figure out what her mom was seeing. Her biology class had 
conveniently explained pieces of the brain recently, and she worked 
her way through nerves and axons towards the back of her mom's 
brain, towards her occipital lobe. She felt around it, she knew. She 
knew she couldn't maintain this for long, she could feel it. But she 
wanted so badly to know. She reached a hand in, grabbed this large 
pulsing sphere, and felt another shock siege her body, and... 


And...? 
Hello? 


That's not right, she must've done something wrong. She was 
surrounded by white, pure white, extending in all directions up down 
left and right. 


| did something wrong. Oh shit, | did something wrong. My mom's 
blind, she's seeing nothing, that's what's going on. | have to pull out. 


But she couldn't. She couldn't let go. She felt nothing, smelled 
nothing, heard nothing, and saw white. Just whiteness. This is when 
panic set in. 


Shit shit shit shit shit. 


It was like a choir in her head. 

Shit fucking no, | did something wrong, I'm in a coma or she is or we 
both are, | wish | listened to me more often, god fucking- 

There was a dark spot. 


Could she move? 


She could move. 
She panicked in the direction of the spot. 
And she was scared. 


She saw darkness again, a night sky and a cobble street, gas lights 
and long vaguely Victorian looking dresses. Everybody's motion was 
frozen, like she was looking at a colored in black and white photo, 
men in fancy suits just going about their day. She could see a club, 
boozy bachelors and wooing women, a beggar on the side of the 
road and a bratty child spitting in his face. All their heads... where 
their brains should be, she saw lights so intensely bright it hurt to 
look at them, and a soft glow emanating throughout the rest of the 
city, through the walls. But none of this scared her. 


What scared her were the hands she saw. 


Long twisting arms extending from beyond the skyline, reaching into 
the heads of all these people, grabbing tightly to their minds. These 
were mobile, so very mobile, writhing and twisting while even the 
raindrops held stoutly to their spots in mid air. She could see them 
spreading throughout the city, disappearing behind buildings, 
tugging on the neurons of their heads, even more extending up into 
the sky, into space, going beyond the limits of vision. She couldn't 
move, couldn't squirm, couldn't run, as something made its way over 
the horizon. She was paralyzed, unable to speak, to turn, seeing 
herself stuck in the air dancing in the street, some large amorphous 
being making its way into her vision. She wanted to run, anywhere, 
even take her eyes away from the thing - how huge must it be, 
glowing from beyond comprehension. 


And she felt it. Staring at it, it stopped. And she couldn't think, her 
thoughts replaced by true terror, a pressure in her chest, head, and 
stomach, a hint of nausea taking hold of her eyes and throat, as she 
stared at it, with no eyelids to shut. And she saw it. 


it 
looked 
back 


It was a long time before anybody heard from Rachael Davidson 
again. 


Sometimes | Wish...|Waiting on the Good Times » 


Waiting on the Good Times 


Waiting on the 
Good Times 


by DarkStuff 


FoldUnfold 
Table of Contents 
1: In the Beginning... 
: Breaking & Entering 
: Camping w/ Friends 
: The Meeting 
: Philosophical Car Ride 
: Cabin in the Woods 
: Jerry Saves Us From Ourselves 
: Getting the Hotel Hots 
9: Shit Goes Down 
10: Rachael Wins 
11: Epilogue 


orou rh WN 


1: In the Beginning... 


| have known Ed for a long time. | mean, a /ong time. We met back 
when we both lived in Placer County, which had a good decade 
between now and then. | was a socially awkward 4th Grader hitting 
adolescence early, and he was a green eyed kid who had all the 
signs of growing up to be a sociopath. We made a wonderful pair. 
He did all the dirty work, | reaped all the rewards, we got in trouble a 
lot, we toughed everything out with each other. It was quite a time to 


be a 10 year old boy climbing trees and spying on girls with a 9 year 
old crazed blonde haired tornado. Sure, we were creepy kids, but 
with the childish innocence that came with the age. In short, it was a 
blast. Almost blowing up old abandoned houses, kicking dodgeballs 
at Jai’s house and accidentally breaking windows, doing so again 
and intentionally breaking his windows — it was just such a reckless 
fantasy. 


However, like most people end up doing, we grew and matured. | 
always played with the ladies, Ed found a peace staring at dudes’ 
abs. He always got good grades, | always skated by with C’s. | 
always walked a fairly straight edge, he was caught for selling 
cocaine. As we grew up, our dynamics changed, but it remained that 
we were quite a team. When | found myself bicurious — and later 
bisexual — we had our romantic fling, but it fucked with our normal 
routines and after a couple dates and a drug fueled bedroom 
adventure we went fairly fluidly back to our chummy ass slapping 
insult slinging nature. | went back to my cheerleaders, he went back 
to his football players, and we called it even. 


When graduation finally came, it was an awkward time for both of 
us. Life as we knew it hadn’t existed without each other in close 
reach, and so after a very short discussion following a couple drinks 
at a celebratory party we found each other to be roommates. Due to 
his perfect academic record (the recommendations of a couple 
teachers got him through in spite of his drug dealing incident), Ed 
got accepted into Vanderbilt University School of Medicine, and so 
we were off to Massachusetts. Of course, | wasn’t certain what | was 
gonna do there, but hey, | could figure that out along the way. First 
priority was sticking with my emotional rock and extra best friend Ed 
Dilber. | could get a minimum wage job working at some fast food 
chain in the meantime, it honestly didn’t matter to me. If | could 
continue chasing tail and Ed could continue to serenade me with his 
newest genre idea, | was all shaped up to be a happy man. 


After four years — six relationships for me, just one for him — of Ed 
making it through college and me just trying (and succeeding) to get 
promotions at Subway, he made it into Vanderbilt University. At this 
point we were living with his boyfriend Jai (different Jai), hiking on 
weekends, biking on weekdays, drinking and being stupid young 


adults. We infiltrated fraternities (sometimes not even at Vanderbilt) 
and messed with all the big burly dudes and all the skinny unreal 
perfect babes. Trashed our fair share of parties, made a couple 
friends — some dudes named Jacob and Richard, their pals 
Kailash, Jessica, and Gyana, and a freak named Rachael — and 
had an overall good young adult experience. Barely spent a night in 
our apartment because we were avid couch surfers and partiers. Not 
sure how Ed even managed to get good grades with how little time 
we spent at home, at Vanderbilt no less. 


While Ed was cutting open bodies (or so | imagined) and | was 
getting intimate with his boyfriend, times were good. Very good. In 
fact, I’d say I’ve just had a good life, really. Enough money, fantastic 
friends, great sex life, good health and fun adventures. It was really 
all | could hope for. A good life, yeah. A very good life. But alas, all 
good things must come to an end. | didn’t say that with the intent of 
implying | died, though | get what it sounds like. However, it’s not 
that crazy a conclusion to make. In a kind of weird, roundabout, 
stupid metaphorical way, we all sorta died a little in the process. 
Worked very close with it, too — oh I'll stop my rambling and just cut 
to the chase. This is how it went down: 


| was making out with Jai because we had nothing better to do, and 
Ed practically kicks down the door. Seeing his crazy red eyes and 
wide sprint ready stance, | took my tongue outta Jai’s mouth and he 
took his hand outta my pants. 


“What's pa 


“Fucking pack it. Alex, Jai, pack everything,” he made an 
exasperated smile, “we're on the fucking run so take your precious 
items and get in the car and we are fucking booking it okay?” 


There wasn’t a question about it. No other words had to be shared. 
Despite the immediate confusion, the three of us had a sort of 
pavlovian response to situations like this. Trust ran thick through our 
veins, and we began to fucking pack it. Pictures of my old dog 
Roxie, Ed’s bong, and my laptop were all in a bag in seconds. In the 
remaining time | had while Jai and Ed were taking care of their own 
shit, | grabbed some snacks from the mini fridge and stuffed them in 
a sack. 


organic structural components; however, trace amounts of digestive 
enzymes have been isolated from the pseudo-stomach, including 

' , and . Between thirty minutes and one hour 
following feeding, specimens of SCP-588 will secrete a clear and 
sticky substance from the base of the reverse side. Laboratory 
analysis has confirmed that it is the digested remains of any organic 
material the specimen has fed upon. 


Copies of SCP-588 have the capability of limited flexion of the coin 
of up to 2 mm. In this manner, specimens of SCP-588 are able to 
move rapidly across flat surfaces using rhythmic contractions in the 
manner of a slug. When approaching a food source, specimens alter 
their movement pattern to short, upright “hops” on the base edge of 
the coin. All activity appears to be motivated by the desire to feed 
and reproduce. 


SCP-588 does not require organic material to survive; all 
consumption appears to be for the purpose of reproduction. After 
three to four feedings, specimens of SCP-588 will begin to thicken. 
Over the course of several hours, a specimen will increase its 
thickness by 1.75 mm, after which a copy of the specimen will split 
from the reverse side through binary fission. Remarkably, offspring 
of SCP-588 will display the year they were “born” at the base of the 
obverse side, although they are identical to SCP-588 in all other 
aspects. Regardless of the year of their creation, offspring of 
SCP-588 are uniformly of the style of quarters from prior to the 
“State Quarter Program” of 1999. 


SCP-588 has displayed rudimentary cognitive ability. Copies of 
SCP-588 will often lay face up on surfaces with the obverse face in 
the standard ’% profile position, mimicking standard quarters. If a 
human being touches the specimen, it will attempt to bite their finger 
and flee rapidly. Multiple copies of SCP-588 tend to gather in large 
groups and will coordinate feeding attacks if allowed (see Incident 
Report 588-B). 


Incident 588-B: On / /2002, junior researcher Dr. reported to a 
senior staff member that while transporting SCP-588 from its 
containment locker to a testing room it “slipped out of the box and 
scuttled away.” The unfortunate containment breach of SCP- at 
approximately the same time and the resulting death of Dr. led to 


We all made eye contact for a meaningful second, and rushed out 
the door and down the stairwell. Emptying into the parking lot, we 
rushed for the Toyota — the parking job was clearly rushed — and 
practically crashed into the seats. Ed bumped his head on the car 
door. He then got the car into gear like it meant his life. Jai and | 
shared a glance that said “we probably shouldn’t initiate 
conversation”. Ed looked behind him, backed up and out, and sped 
onto the road. We took a turn here and there, going a little too fast, 
and ended up on the interstate. Finally, after about a minute of 
silence and finally obeying the speed limit, Ed spoke up. 


“Okay, so, Jai, take over driving.” 
“The fucking, how?” 


“Just figure it out, okay? Here,” Ed started climbing into the back 
seats. 


“Dude! Are you fucking high? What the — get back to the wheel, this 
is —!” 


Ed ended up in the back seat, and Jai clambered from the 
passenger seat to get to the wheel continuing to scream well 
justified profanities at Ed and getting them back on course for not 
careening into woodland. 


“Sorry about that. No, I’m not high, except on adrenaline. Look, 
we’re gonna have to go to Rachael’s house.” 


“Rachael's house? Why?” 


“Well well well, uh, you see... This is all pretty impulsive, but like, 
see... | want you to meet a friend.” 


Ed patted the back seats, and a head poked up from behind them. 
There was a... slimy looking man, with a couple noticeable incisions 
on him, and he was wearing only a white gown. 


“Holy fucking sharktits man, who the hell is this?” 


“Who the hell is who?” 


“Ask him! He can speak, you idiot!” 

“Is there someone in the trunk?!” 

“And who might you be?” 

“| don’t really know.” 

“What does he mean he doesn’t fucking know?” 

“It means he doesn’t know, shut up and let him talk!” 


“Let him talk’? No, no no no, you have more explaining to do than 
he does.” 


“Babe, please, who is this man and what is he doing in our car?” 


“Why doesn’t he do the explaining? Here, everybody shut up, okay? 
Shut up.” 


“Uh, | don’t, like, | don’t know anything.” 
“Tell them what you told me.” 
“| have some vague memories — more like images, but that’s it.”