| didn't want to. | knew it was a bad idea. But then, | saw them again, 
my family, my friends, dead. Dead by the hands of those bastards... 
| agreed. It smiled. And | found myself once more upon the 
ramparts, watching the horde of Faeries crest the hill. My 
Foundation alive once more. In my hands was a weapon. | won't 
bore you with the details, but we slaughtered them. And, with these 
new weapons, continued to slaughter them, everywhere they lived, 
everywhere they bred. My fellow O5s questioned my decision, 
thinking we should save some, in case we might ever need them... | 
overruled them. 


We moved away from the Factory. Shut it down. Moved our things 
out of there. We changed the name from things to Special 
Containment Protocols, focusing on containing them, not... anything 
else. The others were curious, but understood | had my reasons. | 
boarded up the Factory. Locked it shut. Buried it under a ton of 
rubble, saying it was too dangerous. | thought... thought I'd gotten 


away with it. Until | found a thing on my desk. One of the old toy 
guns that shot real bullets. And it had the Factory label on it. 


... I've sent people in, from time to time, to see what it might be 
doing. Last time | sent people in to look, there was nothing there. 
We keep finding Factory items out there. | can't help but think of how 
many more we don't find. The people who use them, and keep it 
hidden. | think back to the body telling me how each item used gave 
energy to the Factory. | never asked it 'energy for what?’ | don't think 
| want to know. 


What do we give it? D-class, mostly. Where DID you think all those 
bodies went? There's a place. Bodies are left, and they vanish. 
Everyone thinks I'm a genius for figuring it out. Sometimes... 
sometimes | have to feed it other things. Researchers. Agents. They 
never know it's coming. It just reaches out and takes them. 


But, in the end, we're doing more good by being here. Whatever the 
Factory wants, whatever it IS... We're doing good here. | have to 
believe that. 


And now you know. Are you happy? | didn't think so. Why tell you? 
I'm getting old, Everett. Should | die, someone will have to keep 
feeding it. Maybe you'll be different. Maybe you'll figure out how to 
stand up to it. 


... But | doubt it. 


Dr. Mann's Proposal: The Spiral Path 


Item #: SCP-001 
Object Class: Embla 


Containment Procedures: SCP-001 is contained on the grounds of 
Site 0, in upstate [REDACTED]. A fence has been constructed 
around the perimeter of SCP-001's observed effects. In addition to 
Site O's security, no fewer than five armed guards are to be present 
at all times to prevent unauthorized entry. The adjoining physics 
laboratory will be manned at all hours, studying any anomalies. 


A small metal plaque bearing an inscription will be maintained in 
good condition. Any damage is to be immediately reported to 
maintenance. 


Description: SCP-001 is a circular gravel path in a wooded area. 
When traveled in a counter-clockwise direction, the trail is 
continuously uphill, even after reaching the original point. When 
traveled in a clockwise direction, the trail shows the same amount of 
uphill and downhill travel, as expected. 


Level 5 clearance is required to access SCP-001’s experiment log. 


New members of Overseer Council are required to read Document 
001-O5. 


Document 001-05 


If you're reading this, then congratulations. One of us has died. 
Something killed one of us. A monster, perhaps, or a rival from the 
GOC. Or maybe we got just a little close to the flame, like Aaron. 
Not old age, of course. We took care of that, didn’t we? Anyway, one 
of the old guard is gone. Maybe Jason. Maybe Agnes. Maybe me. 
Hell, I'd be surprised if | wasn't the next one to die. | always was the 
most expendable. 


I’m going to write this to you as though you were a human being. It 
will be the last time anyone extends you the courtesy, so | hope you 
appreciate it. 


Whoever you are, whatever you did before, you must have been 
high-ranking when you were pulled into this. You must have noticed 
the discrepancies, the inconsistencies. | don’t know how much 
you've been told already, or how much you've pieced together. The 
crux of the matter is this: The retrievals and recoveries of SCP 
objects are staged, or made up whole cloth. We have never 
“discovered” an SCP in the entire history of the Foundation. 


| should start from the beginning. Let me tell you a story. 


Aaron Siegel was a physicist studying at Cornell in 1891. He was a 
truly gifted individual, and had his life taken a different path, | believe 
that his name would be there with Edison, Einstein, and Hawking. | 
knew him very well. He was, and may still be, my brother. 


He was also an avid amateur naturalist, and enjoyed hiking through 
the woods. One day, while visiting our family home in Essex county, 
he came across a gravel path. He decided to follow it for a time, and 
noticed that it kept climbing uphill far longer than it should have. It 
should have taken him above the nearby hills. Instead, he found 
himself back where he’d started, without a foot of downwards travel. 


Another man would have assumed his senses were faulty and left. 


Aaron, however, was a stubborn man. He investigated further. He 
found the path did not conform to the pure geometry of Euclid. Like 
Saccheri before him, he had found something abhorrent to the 
nature of straight lines. 


He studied it. The equations he derived are part of the file you’ve 
received. You'll learn them by heart eventually. He built a small 
shack nearby which served as a makeshift laboratory. His first 
experiments produced a key capable of opening any lock, now 
contained as SCP-005. 


He brought in others. As his brother, | was one of the first he 
contacted. | was a medical student at Harvard at the time. | initially 
thought he was mad, but when he showed me the path, the key, | 
had to learn more. There were others with us, other friends and 
colleagues. Most of them are gone now, but... We were the core. 
We created the Foundation from around ourselves. 


In the beginning, it was just about discovery, about finding the things 
we could do. We had such high hopes, such plans. We were going 
to change the world. We were going to save it from itself. We could 
feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, heal the sick and dying. 


Thomas Carter found us money. We were none of us poor, but we 
ran through our fortunes quickly. Thomas used his connections on 
Wall Street and in Washington to fund us. He showed them the least 
of what we could do, and promised heaven against the threat of hell. 


Agnes Peterson, my brother’s fiancée, was the administrator. We 
knew nothing of how to run an organization. We were a herd of cats, 
running to and fro, and she turned us into a foundation, putting us 
dreamers and madmen to the same yoke. 


We soon had a facility built. But we were still so secretive. AS much 
as we wanted to shout from the rooftops what we had found, we 
were frightened, too, that it would be taken from us. We told 
ourselves it was just for the interim, until we were sure of our footing. 
We'd show them, eventually. We’d show them all. 


We were careful, at first. We made small, inoffensive, or even 
helpful items. The fountain of youth. The bouncing ball. The Civil 


War statue. We grew more confident, and we started working on 
humans. The concrete man. He volunteered. Or the man with the 
abdominal planet. Just a drifter, but we made him something 
special, didn't we? 


It was all so easy. Perhaps it seems absurd to get so many things 
from that one little break in reality, but it all flowed, one discovery to 
the next. It almost seemed like something was helping us along. 


But then, things started going a bit wrong. While he was playing with 
his equations, Aaron accidentally derived the missing number. In my 
laboratory, | found I’d made the zombie plague. But we were too 
invested in our projects, so we pushed ahead. Then came the pipe 
nightmare, and the stairwell. We knew we’d need more help. 


Thomas showed what we’d done to the military. Told them we’d 
“found” these things, discovered them. We made up names like 
“Prometheus Labs,” and “the Chaos Insurgency.” They gave us 
funding, personnel. We built up, and expanded outward. We 
repeated the sell in other countries. Some listened, some didn’t. 
Enough did. We became an international organization. We brought 
in more researchers, though very few ever suspected we were the 
source of these items they studied. Sometimes we would arrange for 
an object to be “found” by a field team, sometimes we would simply 
write the reports. We generated the paperwork, and we were the 
oversight. If we said a thing was, it was. It still is. 


There were still problems, of course. Jeremy and Thomas took one 
of our experiments and ran off with it, creating their ridiculous club. 
One of our researchers grew mad and started worshipping 
machines, escaping with enough knowledge to be dangerous. We 
still deal with the fallout of these splinter groups. 


So we contained them. We handled them. We couldn't stop, surely 
you can see that? Rather than more cautious, we grew bolder. | cut 
a little boy up and turned him into the Flesh That Hates. 


There were reasons. There were always reasons. Two thirty-one. 
We created her, and her sisters. We took them from orphanages, 
and arranged for what followed. And it was no accident. We knew 
what we were doing. There was a reason for it once, but I'll be 


damned if | can remember it now. None of us do, except maybe my 
brother, wherever, whatever he is now. 


We keep moving forward. Even after Abel, after the blood pond, 
after that damnable reptile, we still move forward with our work. 
What else can we do? Our only hope to survive the events we've set 
in motion is to understand better, to learn more. We’re on the back 
of a terrible beast, and if we try to jump off now, we'll be crushed 
beneath. But that’s not what frightens me, and it isn’t what should 
frighten you. We’ve maintained our foothold for over a hundred 
years. 


The things | really worry about are the anomalies we didn't create. 
No, | was telling the truth the first time. We didn't discover any of 
them. But some of them, they aren't our work. They just... were, one 
day. They were in containment, and they'd always been in 
containment. Don't you see? We're not in control anymore. We 
never were. 


Dr. Mackenzie's Proposal: The Legacy 


Item #: SCP-001 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: All elements of SCP-001 are to 
be contained in separate, environment-controlled lockers at Site 
Zero. The location of Site Zero is classified Level 5, and is only 
known by members of O5 Command. 


Access to SCP-001, its transcriptions and data is restricted to O5- 
level personnel except during Protocol Zero. Protocol Zero may only 
be enacted by a direct, unanimous act by the entirety of O5 
Command, and Protocol Zero procedures are to be disseminated 
only to those specifically permitted by O5 Command. 


Description: SCP-001 is a set of two (2) objects and thirty-three 
(33) documents belonging to [DATA EXPUNGED], alias "The 
Administrator". 


SCP-001-01 and SCP-001-02 are, respectively, [DATA 
EXPUNGED] 


SCP-001-03 through SCP-001-35 are a mixed set of handwritten 
and printed documents. They are normal in all respects except that 
they do not show signs of aging or fading in any way, and dating of 
the paper on which they are comprised of has shown inconsistent 
results. The contents of these documents, as detailed below, consist 
of [DATA EXPUNGED] 


[DATA EXPUNGED] 
[DATA EXPUNGED] 


[DATA EXPUNGED] as these objects formed the impetus for the 
creation of the SCP Foundation, and all of its constituent activities 


and processes. As such, this information is only to be disseminated 
by direct order of O5 Command as per Protocol Zero. 


CLASSIFIED LEVEL 5 BY ORDER OF 05 COMMAND 
- EYES ONLY 


Unauthorized access of these documents is punishable by 
immediate termination. 


Addendum 001-01: Analysis of SCP-001-01 and SCP-001-02 


SCP-001-01 is a smooth device composed of an unidentified gray 
metallic substance, approximately 22 cm wide, 30 cm tall, and 

1.5 cm thick. It is unusually heavy, weighing approximately 8.2 kg. It 
is equipped with a small digital display, and has a single opening 
that appears to be a type of keyed activation switch. Attempts to 
disassemble the device or analyze its technology have been 
unsuccessful so far, as there appear to be no seams or fasteners 
visible on the device. Attempts to image the interior of SCP-001-01 
utilizing x-ray or magnetic resonance have resulted in inconsistent 
results, suggesting that the device is either too dense to properly 
image or has inconsistent internal topography. 


SCP-001-01 appears to only be capable of displaying two indicators. 
One appears to be a status or progress bar with an accompanying 
number, currently at approximately 23%. The other indicator is a 
single digital counter displaying the number , 


SCP-001-02 is a small key composed of the same unidentified 
metallic substance as the main casing of SCP-001-01. It is currently 
assumed that this is the activation key for SCP-001-01. 


Addendum 001-02: Transcript of SCP-001 Documents 


SCP-001-03 is a personal diary belonging to The Administrator. 
SCP-001-04 through SCP-001-35 were inserted between various 
pages of SCP-001-03 at time of discovery. 


Excerpt from SCP-001-03, page 1: 


| always hated the idea of writing in a diary. 


Documentation is one thing, but | guess | never saw the 
point in putting down my personal thoughts. The scientist 
in me is telling me that someday, someone might want to 
know how this all started. 


Excerpt from SCP-001-03, page 3: 


They say that the first time is always the hardest. | have 
managed to secure funding and personnel from the 
federal government, and | have established an 
organization that will allow me to continue the research. 
President [REDACTED] insists that | turn the Device 
over for safekeeping, but | have made it clear that | can't 
let it out of my possession. 


Excerpt from SCP-001-03, page 7: 


Progress, unfortunately, has been slow these past 
decades. | am adamant that we cannot reproduce the 
technology until we have found a solution, as | am sure 
that unless we kill both birds with one stone, we will 
simply hasten the process. 


Excerpt from SCP-001-03, page 9: 


| had to kill them. They had been reproducing the 
technology all along, and hiding it from me. | will be 
moving on in the next 24 hours. This place is doomed at 
this point. 


Excerpt from SCP-001-03, page 15: 


Again. | will not make the same mistake again. The mere 
thought of lying to the very people | need to reach my 
goal is bitter, but | can no longer afford to let them know 
the truth. 


SCP-001-05 is a page printed from what appears to be an inkjet 
printer, found inserted between pages 15 and 16 of SCP-001-03. 
This page has been preserved in the same unidentified method as 
the rest of the documents in SCP-001. 


SCP-521: The Postbox 


Item #: SCP-521 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-521 is to be stored in 
Secure Items Locker 15 at Site-39. The battery level of the GPS 
beacon attached to SCP-521 should be checked monthly, with a 
new module fitted as relevant. The steel plate covering the letter slot 
of SCP-521 is to remain in place outside of authorized testing. 


After activation, SCP-521 is to be retrieved from its new location and 
returned to storage with a new covering plate. SCP-521-1 onwards 
are to be held in Archive 4 of Site-39, with digital copies made 
available on the Foundation intranet. Access to these documents is 
not restricted (with the exception of SCP-521-27, see below).