"Har-har. Welp, guess | gotta share mine. That all of your stuff?" 
"Mhm. What's left at least.” 
"Sucks to suck." 


Thomas shrugged at that comment and went to put down the 
cardboard boxes somewhere in his cousin's flat - an anartist through 
and through, as was evident by the unusual and borderline eye- 
paining design of the apartment. Floating orbs mimicking lamps, 
furniture that practically sprouted out of the ground, walls with far too 
many shades of the entire color spectrum, various twisted and 
misshapen figures and forms distributed everywhere in the rooms 
and, curiously, a small animate pet rock with about as much 
cognitive capabilities as a housefly. 

Robert wasn't the kind of person one would expect to be a 
respected individual for his work, and sure enough, he wasn't. To 
him, anart was all about creating fun items and gadgets for aesthetic 
or entertainment purposes, not a serious business one should be 
too dedicated to - why bring the troubles of the world into what was 
supposed to be a hobby you withdrew yourself in? 


Thomas placed the boxes on top of a small coffee table that 


its stable. 

Photo Result: Surrounded by four other horses (one adult female 
and three juveniles), in its paddock. 

Notes: The photograph was shown to SCP-1156, who identified the 
other horses as its mate and offspring, and then attempted to 
purchase the photograph using its Foundation scrip. SCP-1156 was 
subsequently allowed to purchase a copy of the photograph for 
pounds. 


Subject: SCP-1177 

Photographed Activity: Eating her evening meal while reading a 
magazine. 

Photo Result: Eating a much larger meal while reading a magazine, 
with a stack of other magazines next to her. Close examination 
reveals that SCP-1177's scars, amputations, etc., are all healed. 


Subject: An instance of SCP-1216 

Photographed Activity: Standing on a steel table at Site-144. 
Photo Result: Consuming the table and the camera with several 
other instances. The table and camera are broken into pieces and 
coated in rust. 

Note: This may indicate sentience... 


Subject: SCP-1284-1 

Photographed Activity: Being interviewed. 

Photo Result: Photograph is overexposed; no details are visible. All 
photos of all instances of SCP-1284-1 have been similarly 
overexposed. 


Subject: SCP-1285 

Photographed Activity: Sitting in its containment cell. 

Photo Result: Photograph is unchanged, with the exception that 
SCP-1285's roots are wrapped around what looks to be an Oscar 
statuette. 


Subject: SCP-1356 

Photographed Activity: Floating in a standard bathtub. 
Photo Result: Being held by a child in the same bathtub, tub 
appears to be empty. 

Note: That was unexpected. 


appeared to only be balanced on an off-centered empty plastic 
bottle and stretched. 


“You got any idea just why the damn Library suddenly wants all of 
us dead?” 


Robert, clothed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and ripped jeans, answered 
from he nearby kitchen. 

“No fuckin’ clue. Edward’s not been havin’ these problem at all, all’s 
randy dandy for him. Though, he’s said some poor bastard who tried 
gettin’ to London from the Library rushed past him and ended up in a 
volcano. Seems kinda random. Did you ask your Librarians?” 


The chocolate-themed couch was a lot more comfortable than 
Thomas had expected. He sighed softly and tried to get into a 
comfortable position. 

“Nope, they still scare me shitless. Buuut these Hand folks seem to 
try to solve this problem - how, | don't know. The only thing | saw 
was them trying to tell people to use Ways as little as possible. 
Which, fair enough, one way to prevent deaths. What's your WiFi 
password?” 


“Very secure passcode for smart artistic dudes with too much free 
time zero nine two, no spaces, the initials all capitalized, numbers as 
numbers", he said in one rushed sentence, "Anywho, ‘bout these 
Librarians of yours-” 


“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Where does it start and end?” Thomas 
interrupted him confused as he looked at the error message on his 
cracked phone screen. 


An exaggerated groan emitted from the kitchen. 
“Know what, I'll set it up for ya in a minute. Unpack your stuff as you 
wait, or don't, ‘cause then you'll take up less space.” 


“Uh-huh”, Thomas hummed in return, gazing over the boxes and 
backpacks all around the room. Admittedly, it wasn't much, but he 
really couldn't be bothered right now to take care of that. It's much 
more convenient to keep them so organized anyways. 


This will be some fun weeks, huh?, he thought to himself, wondering 


how much impact the apparent malfunctioning of the Ways will have 
on his life. 


Making his way upstairs to what was at this point his and Robert’s 
shared apartment of nearly eight months, Thomas grumbled a few 
curses due to the elevator still being in maintenance. Because it was 
Saturday evening, the most likely time at which the technicians 
would be done was Tuesday, which would be alright if it weren't for 
the fact that they had been working on it since Monday by now. 

On the fifth floor he began to pant - working out has never been one 
of his favourite activities, and regular drinking sessions most 
definitely also took their toll. Regardless, his ear drums miraculously 
didn't suffer too much from the loud party music he often ruled out 
as background noise when he took shots, which made it possible for 
him to hear the ever so slight sounds of the TV in the living rooms, 
sounds that only increased as he came closer to the door. As he 
stood before the door and fiddled with his keys, trying to find the 
fitting one, he was able to listen to the current broadcast and make 
out a few words. 


”,.,unusual places... rammed into each other... reported clones of 
animals and...” 


Finally, he found the right key and immediately went on to open the 
door and enter the apartment. 

“Hey Rob, turn down that volume!” Thomas griped as he took off his 
shoes in the small corridor leading right into the living room. 


“Shut up and watch this!” Robert snapped back from the couch, not 
averting his attention from the TV for even a second. 


Thomas, a bit of a slow thinker, rolled his eyes and made his way 
into the room, as per usual first aiming for the kitchen to make 
himself a nice cup of coffee. He didn't pay much attention to what 
the news reporter was uttering, it probably didn't concern him 
anyways, until... 


“And according to several anonymous sources, this ‘secret 
government’ agency has been witnessed closing up these 
mysterious areas several times in the past few months, going as far 


as relocating the residents under different pretenses.” 


Thomas frowned and looked up from the coffee brewer. 
“Is that the Man?” 


“You bet your ass it is! Fucking-” 

Robert angrily zipped through various channels until finally finding 
one that seemed to satisfy him. 

“Here, look at that!” 


The TV depicted some low-quality photographs of a small town from 
afar - at first glance, nothing seemed too off, but by looking closer... 


“Various Civilians managed to snap these pictures of the place in 
question - the strange intersections of the houses and environment 
as a whole are completely surreal and seem to stem directly from a 
nightmare. But we can assure you that they are not fake. According 
to reports there have been attempts to silence those who have 
witnessed this catastrophic event.” 


Thomas gulped and let that sink it - a sip from a nice hot cup of 
coffee to wash it down would have been of help, but he forgot about 
the drink by now. 

“So, uh, what's that mean?” he asked a bit bewildered by the news. 


“That they, friend, have fucked up!” 
Robert clapped as he exclaimed that and turned to Thomas. 
“And that's really damn bad. For them.” 


Thomas nodded slowly, yet his frown remained. 
“And what now?” 


“Well, now...” 

Robert jumped up from the couch that also served as Thomas’s bed 
and swiftly made his way past Thomas into the kitchen where he 
opened an elevated cupboard. Clanking and rumbling emitted from 
within as his hands rummaged through its contents. 

“I will go and mess ‘round with my friends, and you...” 

Shooting a side glare at Thomas, Robert pulled four wine bottles out 
of the cupboard. 

“Whatever you’re gonna do, | ain't tellin’ you what. Have a fun day.” 


He gave Thomas a pat on the shoulder before leaving the apartment 
to go hang out in an abandoned warehouse reproposed for and by 
the local anart community. 

Thomas, however, stayed, and sat down on the couch to continue 
watching the news. The pet rock - its name was Steven - rolled 
slowly to his feet and gave Thomas a nudge, but he wasn't in the 
mood to care about that. 


A few days passed, and the media was all about these paranormal 
occurrences that seemed to become more common as time went on 
- the once secret, assumed governmental, agency was continuing to 
lose its masquerade as it desperately tried to cover up all of these 
places, coming up with explanation after explanation, ranging from 
toxic waste and radioactive materials to unsafe structures and 
nature reserves. 

To most it seemed unnecessary, as the cover had long been blown 
by now. Headlines mentioning Big Brother weren't uncommon, nor 
were conspiracy theories involving ghosts, aliens and Area 51. 
Preachers left and right warned about the end of the world, called for 
people to confess their sins and submit to their God, and masses of 
scientists and researchers tried to come up with their own 
explanations for the occurrences. 

The anart scene profited greatly from this chaos. They held parties, 
converted people, were a lot more outgoing - just who would bother 
stopping them? 


Then one more week passed, and most people started getting 
worried. Several urban areas have been locked down at this point, 
residents in these areas went missing. The secret organization 
seemed as cold and stoic as ever, but their security presence 
seemed to have decreased. And what some courageous adventures 
found in the places was... concerning, to say the least. 

A sudden supernova had been discovered, one that had been a 
rather insignificant star a few hundred light years away. The problem 
with that was that the star was supposed to die around six million 
years in the future, and a careful analysis of it revealed that it, its 
rest to be more precise, had two times more mass than it originally 
used to. 

The biggest problem was that three more stars, visible with the 


naked eye, had appeared in the night sky, awfully close to already 
discovered ones. Once more, astronomists racked their brains about 
this circumstance, especially as the new stars had an uncannily 
strong similarity to their neighboured celestial bodies. 


Much to no one's surprise, the rising number of monster sightings 
paired with other unexplainable phenomena did nothing to help 
calming the population either. 


Unbeknownst to Thomas, it was on this day that yet another star 
would suddenly die, one that was of particular interest to only a 
single organization that was desperately attempting to cover up its 
existence in these trying times. 

But even if Thomas would have known, it would have hardly made 
an impact on his actions. At the moment, he was trying to get back 
to the Library, despite the still dysfunctional Ways and the dangers 
they posed. He just had to find some expositional scripture or 
person who'd explain what was going on in the world, just to satisfy 
his own curiosity. 

As such, it seemed reasonable to go back to the only Way in the 
area, the one in the alley right between a cheap fast-food shop and 
a small drugstore, and hope that it won't open up a passage to an 
acid pit. 


His hands were in the pockets of his thin jacket that protected 
Thomas against the slight cold at this hour. He was making his way 
through the city with a casual pace, there wasn't any need to hurry, 
his head hanging low as he contemplated what to do after visiting 
the Library. Life was stagnating for him, and the seemingly 
impending doom that lingered all around was quite discouraging to 
most plans he could have taken into consideration. 


“Armageddon is nigh! The signs cry it all out loud! Turn to His 
graciousness, for He will save your soul once this plane has been 
demolished! Your flesh may wither and rot, but your mind shall 
forevermore be preserved! The body’s but a fleshy machine, but the 
ghost’s the power that it needs! No longer will you live in fear if you 
accept His loving help!” 


Cults and sects, it came as no surprise that those were sprouting 
from the ground like fungi after heavy rainfall, each more trite than 


the next. Thomas thought he did well by simply ignoring the elder 
preacher. 


“You!” the robed cultist exclaimed excitedly, pointing at Thomas. “My 
son, won't you step right to me, | have such wonders to share with 
you! Oh you poor and lost wanderer-” 


“Thanks, not interested”, Thomas mumbled just within earshot, 
increasing his pace a bit. The man grimaced at that and grabbed 
him by the shoulder, forcefully trying to get him to stay. 

“But your soul, son, don't you understand, His grace will save you 
from the troubles that are to befall this world!” 


Thomas whirled around and whacked the preachers arm away. 
“Leave me alone you old fuck!” he yelled back at the man’s face, 
who took a step back, defensively raising his arms before his body. 
With that, Thomas turned on his heel and quickly walked away, 
ignoring the few staring passersby all around him. 


He reached his destination twelve minutes later and leaned against 
the brick wall once more in an attempt to collect his thoughts. A 
handful of pedestrians passed during these few minutes and gave 
Thomas confused and disapproving glares, though no one bothered 
to approach him. 

With a sigh Thomas fully stood and positioned himself across the 
wall, focusing on its center. The Knock was to run into it with no 
hesitation or decrease in speed, which would make it open to a 
Cooking section in the Library, right next to a small ‘settlement’ of 
folks with permanent residences in the safe realm. 


He sighed once more, positioned himself properly, and began 
running, aiming for the E initial of a graffiti tag taking up most of the 
surface. A sudden pain shot through his body as he slammed into 
the stone, causing him to tumble backwards as he uttered a series 
of curses. 


Rubbing his forehead and limbs, Thomas scanned over the wall with 
gritted teeth. It was as it had been before, nothing had changed. 


That meant the Way was gone. 


It was a calm night. Thomas was leaning out the window of the 
makeshift apartment, observing the much too bright night sky above 
him as he smoked. The peaceful atmosphere was almost uncanny, 
considering the state of the rest of the world. Somewhere in the 
distance a dog barked twice before falling silent once again. 

He missed the balcony of the previous flat. Not only had it been a lot 
more comfortable to stand around there, but it would have also 
made for a more romantic scenery. 

Romanticizing the end of the world, Thomas had never been a fan of 
that. What's so wonderful about the ends of countless lives, the 
destruction of normalcy and the eventual loss of all that one ever 
held dear? It was stupid, and deep down in his heart he knew that 
the hundreds of currently suffering authors all around the world 
agreed with him.