"| know, Doctor. | try to err towards caution with new arrivals and 
ease them into the knowledge, but | know enough about you to 
know that you're only intellectually aware of the concept of shock. 
So here you are." He opened a door to another hallway, and we 
entered. 


As we did so, a second duplicate of myself approached the first, and 
they exchanged information on tablet computers. Down the hallway, 
a third and fourth conversed while gathering medical supplies. 


"The population | mentioned earlier, Doctor Gears? It's you. It's us. 
Two hundred and eighteen instances, gathered from across the 
multiverse. Welcome to the House of Gears, Charles." 


"| know what you'll ask next. Just a moment." My tour guide opened 
a picture on his tablet and showed it to me. "Is this the woman who 
abducted you?" 


"Her face was concealed, but | recognize the mouth." 


"The face is the least important part. The suit and gun, did she have 
those?" 


"She did." 


"Okay, that's almost definitely Black Queen Persephone. Which is 
good, she's one of the kinder ones. Her real name is Alison Chao, 
but she probably told you that." 


"She mentioned her first name." 


"She's your daughter. Or rather, she's a version of your daughter. ... 
More precisely, she's the daughter of a version of you." He 
scratched his chin. "Do you have children, Charles?" 


"| never married. Please don't call me Charles." 


We passed out of the medical wing and into a carpeted hallway. 

"Here we have the recreation wing." He opened a door to a room 
with a dozen chess tables, each occupied. "| can get you in ona 
game, if you like. I'll even make sure you get white." 


"No, thank you. I've never been one to play chess with myself." 


"Fair enough. Where were we... oh, yes, a lot of the Gearses in here 
don't have living daughters. Not all, but..." He trailed off as he 
tapped idly at the screen of his tablet a few times. Perhaps he was 
impatient at a load time. "And I'm sorry about that. It'll be 'Dr. Gears' 
for the rest of the tour. It's just that you don't have your designation 
yet." He pulled his arm a few inches further out from his coat sleeve 
to show me a tattoo on his right wrist. "We get them during the third 
stage of processing, after the exam and initial orientation. I'm C-44." 


"C-44. Is the tattoo mandatory?" 


"Yes. It's the most efficient way the logistics officers have found to 
avoid confusion." He scrolled through columns of information under 
the photograph of Black Queen Persephone. "The only way to get 
out of it is if you can think of a more practical system and convince 
them to adopt it. Which | encourage wholeheartedly." 


We turned a corner into a row of doors. "This is the housing section. 
you'll likely end up living here. It should fit your tastes — maximum 
efficiency, easy to clean, a computer with access to all the 
information | can give you." 


| opened an unlocked apartment. "These remind me of Foundation 
containment chambers." 


"| think that's the aesthetic they're going for." 
| didn't respond. 


We reached a fork. "At this point," C-44 told me, "we can go right, 
toward the cafeteria and the workspaces. your specialty is..." Two 
taps on the tablet. "... mechanical engineering, right? | can show you 
the lab." 


"And on the left?" 


"Maintenance, the garden, and... other housing arrangements." 
"So the question is which end of the facility you will show me first?" 
"Trust me, we'll only have time for one." 

"| see. Who is responsible for the equipment in the lab?" 


"The engineers make requisitions for parts or equipment, and the 
logistics officers pass these on to the Black Queens, who approve or 
deny them. There are a few limits... spacetime research is severely 
restricted, and you'd have trouble getting things that could 
catastrophically damage the facility—but the engineers have pooled 
their knowledge and it's resulted in quite a few innovations." 


"Pooled their knowledge? Elaborate." 


"Each Doctor Gears adds the sum total of his knowledge to the 
facility's resources. There are alternates of you from universes 
where quantum physics is decades ahead of what you'd know, 
where materials science has produced things you may have 
theorized were possible... everyone works with the best that the 
multiverse has to offer." 


"Take me there, C-44." 
And so he did. 


For the sake of time, | shall relate several examples of what | saw 
there rather than a complete inventory. The initial notes | made on 
the engineering labs, which | took down from memory once | had 

access to paper, filled my first journal, and continued into most of 

the second journal that | was provided. 


| saw entanglement experiments at a scale such that they involved 
apples and billiard balls. | saw innovative human organs designed to 
provide new resources to the body without rejection. A small team 
had devised a method of encoding messages into genetic material 
that could be read in a blood or tissue sample, a process they tested 
during the cloning of species that had become extinct on their 
respective planets. 


One laboratory was dedicated to advancements in clockwork 
technology. | watched an analog computer evaluate sorting 
algorithms powered solely by a wind-up key. In a corner, 
researchers took turns monitoring a complex arrangement of gears 
surrounding a receptacle. It was explained to me that occasionally 
the readout shifts to one of several settings, such as Coarse or Fine, 
and an object emerged. It was partly a game and partly a 
compulsion amongst the clockwork researchers to determine what 
sort of object the machine was requesting based on its output. 


"| hate to cut this short," C-44 told me, "but it's getting late. you'll 
need to squeeze into the last shift of processing if you don't want to 
spend the night on a hospital bed." 


"Very well." We adjourned to the medical wing. C-44 found the room 
marked Processing - Housing And Designation. 


"This marks the end of the tour, Doctor Gears. Ah, right, one last 
thing | need to tell you." C-44 tapped a nearby wall monitor. He 
opened a menu and dragged it downward, off the edge of the 
screen, and it appeared on his tablet. "This is the information on 
your retrieval. It should be released to you before long." 


"| expect it to include the reason | was abducted." 


"It varies depending on the instance of us and the instance of them. 
Some take us because they think we've blocked out the memory of 
our children, or have had it removed. Some think the doctors they 
bring in are psychologically damaged and in need of treatment. 
Some of them just consider us resources to be used to labor in labs 
and workshops. If we were the targets they actually sought out, we 
wouldn't be tossed... in... Here it is." 


"Like | said earlier, one of the kinder ones." He turned to me. "She 
brought you in because she doesn't want you around for what she's 
going to do to your Foundation." 


The processing clerk gave me an apartment key and a badge which 
denoted that | worked in engineering Lab 3. He asked me to place 
my arm into a machine, and | did so. A cuff restrained my arm to 
prevent movement, and a tattoo was inscribed, relatively quickly and 


painlessly, onto my skin. "| hope you enjoy your stay, B-85," the 
clerk said. | looked at my wrist and verified that he had called me by 
the correct name. 


My initial visit to my apartment and sleeping were uneventful. At the 
cafeteria, | was served corn flakes with slices of banana, which is 
my preferred breakfast. Once | had finished eating, | began to travel 
to my workspace. At the fork in the hallway, | decided to head left to 
briefly survey that area, but was told by a security officer that | would 
require an escort with the proper clearance. | accepted this. 


That evening, | left my shift early (relative to my normal schedule; at 
the Foundation it would have been considered two hours late) and 
registered an appointment with C-44. He would agree to complete 
the tour. The clerk asked me why | was interested in touring the 
wing. | deflected the question, as | was unable to answer. 


| met with C-44 the next day after work. (Details of my research fill 
my second journal. By request of the supply supervisor, | began 
keeping digital records only after that to save on paper.) He asked to 
see my badge, and | complied. | expressed my intention to visit the 
maintenance and "alternative housing" he had mentioned, and he 
led me. As we walked, C-44 engaged in small talk. 


"So, you're B-85... and you got a job in the lab? Congratulations." 
"Was there any uncertainty?" 


"Unfortunately, not everyone can get the position they prefer. 
Someone has to do the unpopular jobs. Human Resources does a 
good job of providing most of us with a position that best suits us. 
Those of us without doctorates go into low-qualification tasks, while 
those of us who are more, ah... personable are assigned to work in 
the more social jobs." 


"Is that what happened to you, C-44?" 


"That's it, yes. | worked as an MRI technician at a private hospital, 
but now | handle these initiations, because apparently few of us are 
good at that sort of thing. But enough about that. You should see the 


garden." 


C-44 brought me into a solarium outfitted with artificial sun lamps. 
Rare species grew here [list some], caretaken by assistants of a Dr. 
Gears A-20, who greeted me cheerfully. 


"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked me. 
"I'm sure it's a useful collection." 


"Useful..." A-20 removed a work glove and rubbed his chin. "Empty 
your mind for a moment, B-85. Just feel the energy here. As each 
cell drinks in sunlight and each plant reaches toward it... don't you 
feel God here?" 


"| don't." 


"Well... yes, it's a useful collection. you'll probably appreciate the 
hydroponic crops. They're just past that door." A-20 replaced his 
glove and began to prune a bush. 


"Don't mind him," C-44 whispered to me. "Back home, he was part 
of something called The Church of the Winding Branches." 


"Alright. | suspect he's correct about the crops, C-44." 


| saw a chamber filled with staple crops, herbs, and other edible 
plants growing in water. 


"This is where most of the cafeteria's food comes from. Here, and 
the cloning lab. Some things are transported here, but we try to be 
as self-sufficient as possible. The Black Queens spend less and less 
time here." 


"| think they just want us to find the Tree." One of A-20's assistants 
muttered this while taking tomato inventory. 


"Don't tell me," C-44 said to him, "that your boss converted you." 


"It makes sense, doesn't it? Biodiversity is cranked to extremes in 
that botanical garden. Literally more plants than a universe has to 
offer." 


| interjected. "Only in the sense that the garden contains plants from 
multiple universes. That's a very misleading statement." 


"And when and where is the only other place that has so many 
plants in one place, with only one man to take care of them?" 


"Again, that's not—" 


"The Garden of Eden, brother. Humanity branched out from that one 
spot, from the Tree of Knowledge. | think... that the Black Queens 
are trying to remake it." 


"C-44, why don't we continue the tour?" 


"That, uh... yes, very well." 


C-44 took me further west. Additional security guards patrolled this 
wing—Dr. Gears in face-covering visors. | was shown a locked vault 
door. 


"No badge reader here, B-85. No electronic systems of any kind in 
the door's mechanisms. There's a key that a few security staff and 
Black Queens carry, but otherwise..." 


"What's behind it?" 


"Behind it is a similar, but separate facility. It's that alternative 
housing | mentioned. It's locked because... well, I'm not sure you're 
cleared to know that." 


"What information can | access with Level 2 security?" 


"You don't have a tablet yet, do you? Here..." C-44 held the screen 
up to me; the front camera was engaged. "Show it your card." 


| scanned myself in. 


"Ah, okay, here's a report." C-44 summarized the information for me. 
"So... if a Gears arrives with any artificial body parts or other 
implants, such as a digital eye, surgeons detect and remove or 
replace it with a part cultivated in the cloning lab. (Rejection is 


SCP-597: The Mother of Them All 


Item #: SCP-597 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-597 is to be guarded and 
researched by a rotating monthly shift. Those in charge of the 
design of the containment procedures are not allowed contact with 
the SCP; if at all possible this duty should be left to overseer level 
personnel. No one is to be allowed to view (on video or through a 
window) or be in the same room as SCP-597 for longer than five 
hours. Maintenance personnel are to alternate every day. 


Evaluations are to be given at the end of the shift or whenever 
mental distress seems obvious. If psychological contamination is too 
great and poses a tangible danger, termination can be performed 
immediately by the on-site analyst. (The mental health offices are 
soundproofed for this purpose.) The doctor can terminate up to ten 
individuals at a time; any more requires the approval of an overseer. 
In this scenario, procedure 597-32 (Weaning the Babies) is to be 
activated. Vents in the ceiling require regular maintenance for this 
purpose. 


Smoke detectors are not to be turned off for any reason; candles 
and incense lit in 597's cell are to be taken as an indication of a 
dangerous obsession. The leaving and offering of food, as 597 does 
not require it, is to be viewed in the same light as well. All other 
signs of unnatural love and religious awe are to be reported along 
with these. 


The room and the surrounding area are to be sealed, with ventilation 
shafts, plumbing, and wiring checked daily. Measures are to be put 
into place for the continuous extermination of all vermin in the 
facility. Animals not part of the study found suckling on SCP-597 are 
to be removed and terminated as soon as possible due to risk of 
biological contamination. Because of this, in the morning, workers 


almost nonexistent, due to inhabitants sharing virtually identical 
genes.) Some, however, are beyond corrective surgery. Those are 
quarantined from the rest of the population in their own facility." 


"| don't see the reasoning." 


"Some of them have transferred to or been augmented with strong 
Al. If we gave them a moment to make their case, they would likely 
completely control the facility within a day." 


"If they're that qualified, it sounds like a practical decision." 


"The Black Queens don't see it that way. So they strictly enforce 
quarantine, and keep them next to... that room." C-44 pointed to the 
end of the hall. "| know you can't approach there." 


A pair of security officers stood two or three yards away. The door 
they guarded was matte gray and bore an insignia painted in red. 


"Recognize the symbol?" 


It was a ring, with five arrows pointing outward from the center in the 
shape of a star. 


"Something about it is dimly familiar." 


"Maybe because it reminds you of the Foundation logo. | understand 
that there's a splinter group of the Foundation called the Insurgency, 
or Chao's Insurgency, or the Porridgemongers, or..." 


"The Chaos Insurgency." 


"Correct. That's a cast-iron door, B-85. Supposedly it protects us 
from their magic. | don't know anything about it, but the Black 
Queens work with a Gears, A-something, that calls himself a 
‘sorcerresearcher', and he handles Cl policy." 


The door opened from inside. A Gears was behind it holding a 
clipboard. "Requesting clearance to exit the salty ring of my fatigue." 


The two guards turned toward him and tapped their badges. The 
Gears held up his card to them with his right hand. "Careful. your 


hand will break if you touch this vent." 
"We can't read it from there."