The green smoke snaked over to the man in the diadem. A tendril 
wafted up to his face and situated itself under his nose. As Molly 
watched with some concern, the thin trail of smoke curved up to 
form the illusion of a ghostly green smile on the man's static face. 


To be continued... 


A Simple Solution 


Author's Note: These gnomes are based on the ones 
from SCP-1956. 


The hustle and bustle grew throughout the marketplace as the 
striped feet of gnomes darted about. The festival was long-awaited, 
with vendors lining up their stalls across the streets and the sides of 
the clocktrees. The glowplants covered the stalls and tents of leather 
and silk, providing illumination for the spectacle of the season’s 
wares. 


The food stalls were filled with pies stuffed with the meat of large 
insects, and the foam overflowed from drinks that flew from client to 
client. There were acrobats balancing on streetlamps and juggling 
each other, making wide arcs and dramatic poses. The musicians 
played their trombeetles, coins and gizmos were exchanged 
between oos and aas, and not a single gnome would be caught 
dead with empty tendrils. The living moons danced like soapstone 
blimps above, carrying the night sky with them as they flapped their 
wings and tails. 


In the middle of all the music and movement was a gnome with 
green and black stripes, a cap that split in four, and a pair of brass 
goggles. He was scrunching his oil-stained face and twitching his 
cap at the crumpled diagram he carried. All items crossed out, 
except one. He mumbled something about flying vehicles and rare 
crystals, not paying attention to the looks his poorly cut head tendrils 
were getting. 


His project would look arcane and beyond everyday applications to 
most, and that was just how he liked it. Let others deal with 
scrubbing floors and serving meals. He was about to do something 
no other gnome in these parts had ever managed, and he would 
come back to tell everyone about it. Even if it landed him in another 
smoking crater. 


are also very strong, and are capable of damaging concrete over 
time. 


SCP-775 feeds in a manner similar to the common tick, but more 
extensive. SCP-775 injects both an enzyme to increase blood flow, 
and one that begins to liquefy other tissues. This enzyme will attack 
all tissues except those making up the layers of skin. SCP-775 will 
then eat the blood and liquefied tissue until it is totally engorged. It 
will then lay an egg sac containing 20-30 new SCP-775 on or near 
the host subject, and then resume feeding. 


SCP-775 will feed on any vertebrate animals, and will continue to 
feed and reproduce on the host until it is no longer capable of 
providing nutrients. Young SCP-775 will often burrow under the skin 
and attempt to feed on liquefying tissues directly. Hosts will 
eventually be fully hollowed out, with only the outer layers of skin 
remaining. SCP-775 will then fill the skin with eggs, then depart to 
find a new host. Hosts in advanced stages of infestation are 
described as taking on a “bloated” or “misshapen” form, many times 
with multiple SCP-775 attached to many places on the body. “Nest” 
skins are often filled to the maximum capacity that the skin is 
capable of holding. SCP-775 is capable of reproducing offspring two 
days after hatching, with eggs taking 24-30 hours to hatch on 
average. This accelerated life cycle and ability to resist most forms 
of physical damage cause SCP-775 to undergo an almost 
continuous population explosion. Bleach appears to be effective in 
controlling SCP-775, with most dying after several minutes of being 
submerged. 


Notes on recovery: 

SCP-775 was first encountered [DATA EXPUNGED] The Stull family 
appears to have been the first infected. Recovery teams found only 
an adult male and a juvenile female still living in the home, 
presumed to be (age ) and (age ) Stull. Both were in very 
advanced stages of infestation, making identification 
difficult. Most members of SCP-775 appear to have attached to the 
hands, feet, face, and abdomen of the subjects. The remaining 
family members were found in the basement, being used as "Nests" 
by SCP-775, with one of the skins already burst and discarded. 
Several thousand units of SCP-775 were present in the home, and it 


He pulled his notebook from his pocket and started calculating the 
probability of finding what he needed and how much haggling he'd 
have to do. He was startled by the sound of something breaking 
under his foot, and furrowed his brow at the following sound. A child 
crying. He feared he might have stepped on a beloved pet for a 
second and was about to offer a mechanical substitute, but then he 
looked down and realized it was a simple wind-up toy. 


He took it in his tendrils, pulled out a screwdriver, a rubber band and 
the gum he was chewing, and fixed the toy in ten seconds flat. He 
put it down, wound it up, and watched it walk back to the child, who 
wasn't sure if it was really fixed. He looked up at the child's mother, 
who was staring at him like one would at a roach they've been trying 
to get rid of for a long time. 


"Well, if it isn't Plagum, the smartest gnome around.” She knew that 
ever since one of his rivals had bested him in a glowplant design 
contest, Plagum was especially bothered by that sarcastic 
namecalling. He didn't resent being defeated fair and square, but 
Glibo's serenity had always seemed a bit off to him. Though they 
exchanged tube-letters frequently to keep score of their projects and 
exploits, Glibo frequently came out ahead. Plagum supposed the 
gardener attracted more sympathy with his simple manners, and he 
wasn't far from the truth. There was also the fact that Glibo's custom 
glowpants did not shear off head tendrils when mishandled, like 
Plagum's gizmos were infamous for doing. 


"You mess up a celebrity's cap once, and you're labeled for life..." 
grumbled Plagum internally. He faced the mother and the child with 
as much politeness as he could. "Spare me. | congratulated the man 
and everything, and the kid's toy is fine. | have a project to finish." 
And with that, he kept going his way, paying a little more attention to 
his surroundings and putting another piece of gum in his mouth. 


Just as he was finishing his calculations in a corner, Plagum 
imagined himself flying and taking pictures no one else could. 
Pictures so good that gnomes would ask him how he did it. He'd just 
smile and say it was all hard work and talent. Prizes, interviews, 
autographs. Maybe he'd even receive an invitation to join his heroes 
in the halls of the Great Crystalsight University, and study the 
marvels in the unexplored regions of Lagomia. 


Before he could fantasize further, Plagum stopped in his tracks 
when he saw a Stall with the item he needed. He smiled and was 
already putting his haggling posture on, when he noticed a sign that 
said "sold out". He huffed and contorted his needle teeth. Looking at 
the money he had left, and with the closing hour approaching, he 
undid his scowl and straightened his goggles. He smeared the oil- 
stain in the process. 


"Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to have another one of those 
crystals stored away? | don't have much money left, but perhaps we 
can work something out real quick..." tried Plagum. 


The vendor turned around and made an expression of shock. Before 
he could warn the tinkerer gnome of the acrobat about to fall on top 
of him, Plagum was already pleading for generosity. The squishy 
crash of a gnome falling on another resounded through the stall. 


The slim and wide-eyed acrobat got up in a hurry and apologized 
about ten times to Plagum, who was far more worried that he might 
have to fix one of his tools. The acrobat turned around to apologize 
to the vendor, and saw that he had enough money for the same 
crystal that Plagum wanted. 


"Hi there, good evening, sir! I've been saving up for that exact 
crystal for weeks before the festival started. It's the last one | need 
to finish my collection! Can you let me buy it, please please please?" 


Collection? Didn't this boy realize the properties that it had in the 
right tendrils? Plagum would have complained and insisted he 
arrived first, but he had to admit the boy deserved it more for saving 
up in advance. The vendor was enchanted with the eagerness and 
dedication of the acrobat, and searched his stall for the crystal he 
asked for. 


As he watched the young acrobat jump away in pure joy, Plagum felt 
his familiar anger boiling the oilstain on his forehead. He noticed 
gnomes were gathering around to see if anyone was hurt, so he 
composed himself. Now what? The festival would only last a few 
more days, and he could not get enough money with his deliverer 
job in time. 


He hit a screwdriver against the side of his goggles and popped gum 
balloons until a glowplant shone inside his mind. 


It was so simple. Why didn't he think of it sooner? 


He just had to dig for the crystals himself. He had enough parts left 
to make a powered drill, he just had to make sure he didn't anger 
the sharkworms. He went home and headed straight to the 
workshop, where he began to disassemble various devices he had 
found laying around in festivals and sales. He drew the schematics 
of the drill on a writing desk that was far cleaner and more organized 
than him, and soon the roars of the machine sounded off into the 
night. 


The festival had to end sooner than expected. While no one was 
hurt in the accident but Plagum, there was considerable property 
damage. Holes were torn into the sides of stalls by the shredding 
maws of sharkworms, products were devoured and the powered drill 
hit a rock that sent it flying into the face of a living moon. The 
celestial critter protested by hiding the stars it carried and spitting 
back the drill into the roof of Plagum's house. 


The tinkerer would have been furious enough to chew through iron, 

but he had no arguments. If only he had arrived earlier, or saved up 
more, or just settled for a simpler project to show the University. But 
it was too late, and he was sentenced to a long period of community 
service, seeing as how he did not have nearly enough money to pay 
for the destruction. 


"But that close up of the sharkworm's mouth was amazing!" he 
insisted to himself as he cleaned the debris of his foolish brilliance 
from the streets. His arm hurt from the glancing bite he had received 
from the subterranean model. Maybe his next project could be a way 
to better control the population of those devourers with no sense of 
taste... 


A few days into the service, he was approached by none other than 
Glibo, who was carrying a covered handbasket. Plagum was 
surprised, and if he was honest with himself, pleased to see a 
familiar face that wasn't frowning. The gardener looked at the 


tinkerer's wounded arm, and shook his head. "You're going to 
become some animal's dinner if you keep this up". Even through the 
joke, Glibo could not bring himself to really mock the poor gnome. 
Plagum did struggle a lot with getting the recognition he wanted so 
much, and this wasn't the first accident. 


"Tell you what, Plagum. When you are done for today, you can 
come over to my garden for lunch. | was worried that your accident 
might have wounded you a lot more, so when | heard you were still 
in one piece, | prepared something special to celebrate." 


The tinkerer looked at the handbasket in those orange-black 
polkadot tendrils, and felt the the sweet aroma of mushroom stew. 
His stomach groaned loudly, and he told it to shut up. Glibo 
chuckled at that, and patted Plagum on the back. "Don't worry, I'm 
sure your stomach isn't angry at you. And you'll make it to 
Crystalsight soon, | am sure of it. Here, have this mushroom while 
you do your service." Glibo handed him a big enough fungus to 
silence his stomach for a while. 


"Thanks, Glibo. You're a nice gnome. But don't you forget our score, 
you hear? I'll beat your tendril-jumper record someday!" The 
gardener gave him nod of approval and returned to his work. 
Plagum looked down and recognized a chunk of metal from the drill. 
He saw his reflected goggles and frown being warped by the metal's 
shape, creating a boogeyman of the sort that made little gnomes 
hide inside their bedsheets. And in his grumpy heart, he felt that the 
difference between the gnome and reflection was too small. 


He would have something surprising indeed to discuss over lunch 
that day. 


After weeks of community service (and a lot of temptation to use 
more gizmos to finish said service faster), Plagum was finally free. 
His parents gave him the usual speech and scolding, but were far 
more glad than angry when they saw he was OK. They decided to 
take him to the circus to cheer him up. Plagum took his notebooks to 
scribble down ideas as he was inspired by the acrobats’ parabolas 
in the air. He noticed one of them was the boy who had bought the 
crystal before he could. He felt the beginning of a growl forming in 


his throat, but he remembered all the trouble his poor manners had 
brought him so far. He decided that this time would be different. 


He stopped by a gizmo store after the show was over, and took 
some wood pieces, glass, wires and paint. He built a goblet-shaped 
crystal holder. The glass dome would open at the pulling of a lever, 
but when closed and placed under moonlight, the crystals hanging 
from the wires would form sparkling and multi-colored astronomic 
images. 


The next time he went to the circus, Plagum approached the boy 
who had the crystal he needed. He breathed in and out, and felt a 
strange levity wash over him. His legendary frown dissolved and 
gave way to a smile. "Hey there, that was quite the spectacle! You 
must train a lot. What's your name?" 


"Hey, it's you! I'm so sorry for falling on you during the festival! A bird 
got into my mouth and...what's that in your tendril? Oh, right, I'm 
Neebeem. You are the drill guy, right?" 


Plagum mustered up his willpower to not get irritated at that "drill 
guy" comment, and to his shock, the next words came naturally to 
him. "Yes, that's me. My name is Plagum. | couldn't find something | 
needed in time at the festival, so | came up with a stupid plan that 
messed everything up. | should have followed your example, 
Neebeem. Speaking of which..." He showed the crystal holder to the 
acrobat. "I don't have a lot of money, but if you traded that crystal 
you bought for this, I'd be so very thankful." He instructed Neebeem 
on how to use the gizmo, and the boy was completely enchanted. 


"Of course, mister! This is so cool! I'm gonna put it my room and 
watch it every time the moons come by! You're not mean like people 
say, you're awesome!" Even though Plagum scoffed, he didn't frown. 
"Ah, | wouldn't say I'm mean, but | have a project on good manners | 
need to work on. | hope you enjoy the crystal holder. See you 
around, and keep doing those awesome jumps!" 


"Will do! Good luck with your projects, mister Plagum!" The acrobat 
went on his way, and the tinkerer felt a new glowplant shining in his 
mind. Now that he had the crystal, he could build the moonlight 
powered flying machine he had been imagining for so long. But he 


was bad at piloting, and he could not take detailed pictures of the 
living moons without losing control of the machine sooner or later. 
However, there was a solution. And it was so simple. 


Later that month, on a scientific magazine that often published 
articles of respected scholars, the special edition's headline read in 
showy letters: "Ex-pilot gardener and young tinkerer use flying 
machine to take revolutionary pictures of living moons." On the 
article cited in the headline, it said: "Tinkerer is to be admitted into 
Crystalsight University." 


A Site-19 Christmas Carol