The Eye Pod didn't respond. It had committed to this being a 
surprise, and nothing would convince it to break its silence. They sat 
in silence, waiting for the D-classes to finish mopping. 


It didn't take much longer. Finishing around SCP-173, the D-class 
sighed in relief as he deposited the blood and shit-stained mop into 
the bucket, and signalled to the other two that he was finished. 


‘Oh, too bad, time for you to fuck off. Guess | won't get to see your 
surprise. What a fucking shame.’ 


The D-classes left the chamber. The Eye Pod didn't move, still 
staring at the Statue. The bulkhead didn't shift either. 


‘Hey, fuckball. They finished mopping. Time for you to fuck off." 
It didn't respond. It didn't move. 


The Statue was about to begin a furious tirade when, ever so faintly, 
he heard the noise. 


It sounded like a stampede of cars, thousands of wheels rolling — 
all at the same time — towards the chamber. A cold chill ran down 
the Statue's back; it already knew what was coming. The mustard- 
coloured Eye Pod rolled back into the chamber. 


Then a blue one came in. 

'Heeeeeeeeeeey theeeeeeceere,’ it wailed. 
A lime green Eye Pod rolled in after it. 
‘Heeeeeeeeeeelloo000000"!' 

Then came a purple one. 

Then red. 

Then grey. 

Then white. 


They kept rolling in; each a unique tint or shade, each with their own 
unblinking eye. 


Each with that obnoxious wailing voice, greeting the Statue as they 
came in. 


And they just kept coming. 


'Greeeeeeeetings!' 


'Heeeeeeeeeey theeeeeeereeece!' 
‘'Hooooooo00000la!' 
'G'daaaaaaaaaaaay"' 
‘Booooooo000000njooo0000000uTr!' 


Within a minute, the entire floor of the room was coated in a rainbow 
of Eye Pods — each and every one staring directly at the Statue. 


"Theeeeeeeeeeeeeey fooooo00000und oo000000000Uur 
frieeeeeeeeeeends,' the mustard one proudly declared. 


‘Al... alright th-thats fucking great, now j-just leave, alright? They 
finished... they finished mopping, so you've got to... got to leave.’ 


‘Nooo00000000000 weeeeeeeeeece doooo000000n't!’ 
‘Wh... what do you m-mean, you don't?’ 


"The SUUUUUUUUULUUULUIt peeeeeeeeeeeople dooooo00ooo0on't 
haaaaaaaave eeeeeeeeeeeenough rooo00000m, Sso0000000 
theeeeeeeeey haaaaaaaaaave to puuut Soooo000ome of us in 
booooooo0o00oxes!' 


'‘B-boxes?' 


The bulkhead door groaned. He couldn't stop it while he was being 
watched — and a thousand, unblinking eyes were all staring at him. 
He couldn't stop the bulkhead from closing, and locking shut. 


"Weeeeeeeeeeee live heeeeeeeeere NOOOOOCO0OOW!' 


Reboot or: How | Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the 
Apocalypses 


1 
"Oh God, this is it! It's happening!" 

"Calm down. We've prepped for this. What kind of scenario?" 
".,.AK-class, cause unclear. The signal came from Area-23. Critical 
containment failure, final countermeasures unsuccessful." 

“Alright. Initiate sequence AK-23. Scranton Reality Anchors fully 
functioning, time dilation active, reality checks indicate no distortion, 
we are set on this end." 

"Hume readings stable. Physical Constants Calibrator fully 
functioning. Initiating reconstruction in 3,2,1..." 


3 

"There's another one!" 

"What was it?" 

"Looks like an RK-class. Some kind of... clockwork insects 
escaped." 

"Got a signal?" 

"No, not yet... hold on, wait, yes, the signal has been received, 
from... Site-21. Critical containment failure, final countermeasures 
unsuccessful." 

"Alright. SRAs fully functioning, time dilation active, no distortion 
yet... initiate sequence RK-12- no, wait, 21. RK-21." 

"Hume readings stable. PCC fully functioning. Initiating 
reconstruction in 3,2,1..." 


17 

"World ended again." 

"What was it?" 

"Nothing anomalous this time. Just a nuclear war." 

"Between who?" 

"Hell if | know. Looks like some Russian stuff went off." 

"So? What's the big deal?" 

"We got a signal from Site-40. They're calling it an XK-class." 


"Critical containment failure?" 

"Right. Final countermeasures were unsuccessful." 

"Sounds like a bit more than nuclear war to me. Whatever, initiate 
sequence XK-40. All systems are clear on this end." 
"Everything's all set. All systems go, initiating reconstruction in 
Sie lset 


150 

"What the hell, it's hasn't even been 2000 years since the last one." 
"Got to be kidding me. What about SK-12?" 

"Must've gotten instructions from the wrong site!" 

"Oh for... never mind. Do it again. Everything's green over here." 
"Got it. Everything's set, initiating reconstruction in 3,2,1..." 


635 

"Fucking hell." 

"Oh god, don't tell me it was-" 

"The cakes... again." 

"Oh for- whatever. All set on this end, what about you?" 

"Christ, can't they keep track of this? This is the third time in a row 
those damn cakes have escaped! You know what | did this 
morning? | woke up and | thought, 'hey, maybe we won't have to 
reset things.’ Then | remembered- we're only woken up when we 
have to reset things." 

".... Everything's green on this end." 

"....sigh, yeah, same here. Hit the reset." 


665 

"... You know what, fuck this. I'm sick of this bullshit. Let's set our 
own parameters.” 

"Hold on! We have specific instructions! | have a signal from 
Site-75!" 

"Yeah, but every time we've followed those instructions everything 
goes back to hell within less than 3000 years. Remember sequence 
IK-50? You can't seriously tell me that it planned for a dog to poison 
the Western Hemisphere!" 

"| dunno... We got this job for a reason." 

"Yeah? What reason is that? Why didn't they use computers 
instead? This is literally the most important device in the universe. 
So why use a couple of humans?" 


"That's what | thought. Let's see if we can't make some changes. 
Hell, maybe we'll do better than whoever came up with these 
protocols. I'm sick and tired of watching myself grow up, have a 
family, and then watch everyone I've ever known or will know get 
eaten by some eldritch thing for the hundredth fucking time!" 
"Okay... but do you know how to make changes?" 

"Of course. Don't tell me you forgot what little training they gave you. 
Come on, I'll show you how it works. | am done with those goddamn 
cryopods. We're in this for the long haul." 


1365 

"Okay, my turn. Let me see... 43. What's that correspond to?" 
"43...43... ah, here we go! Amphibious humanoids with three 
genders." 

"So... what do we call the third gender?" 

"Let them figure that out. Plug in the values and hit the reset." 
"Everything's fine on my end." 

"Ditto. Hit it." 

"Wait, hang on! I'm not finished plugging them in-" 

"Too late! Reset!" 


2000 

"Here we go, number two thousand!" 

"Damn. That's a hell of a lot of resets. Say, how long have we 
actually been down here?" 

"... You know what, I'm not sure." 

"Must be the time dilation. Let's say... | dunno, hundred million 
years?" 

"Way too long. Two million years." 

"That's too short!" 

"Think about it, every time we reset nothing lasts longer than 3000 
years. Usually they blow themselves up like two thousand years in." 
"You keep forgetting about the period of evolution!" 

"That doesn't count! It's fast forwarded!" 

"It's counted!" 

"No it isn't!" 

"It clearly is-" 

"Oh shut up!" 

"You first!" 


"Toh..." 

"Whatever, jeez. Two million, happy?” 

"Thank you. Okay, what do we do for our two-thousandth reset?" 
"Let's see if we can fiddle with what goes on up here..." 


2001 

"That wasn't as funny as | thought it would be." 

"Oh, you think? Tell me, was this before or after they started feeding 
Jesus old people?" 

"Well excuuuuse me for trying to add a little levity!" 

"You got the little part right! Just... just reset it already. This is kind 
of sad." 

"Wait, why don't we see where this goes?" 

"You seriously want to see where this goes?" 

"Well, yeah?" 

"Seriously?" 

"Hey, it might be interesting." 

"Can't believe I'm saying this but I'd prefer taking a nap than 
listening to you." 

"The pods're right there. Go right ahead." 

"1 think | will!" 

"Fine!" 

"Fine!" 


2596 

"We did it!" 

"What? Really?" 

"Really! Let's celebrate!" 

"With what? There's no wine in here." 

"Oh come on, isn't this a little exciting? 3000 years without 
resetting!" 

"What about reset three seventy-five?" 

"They blew themselves up like a millisecond before 3000. Not this 
time! We made it to 3000 years and 35 seconds! Sure, it was by 
retarding the human race, but you can't argue with progress!" 
"Good enough, | guess." 

"That's the spirit! Hey, listen. Why don't we just... kick back this 
time?" 

"Kick back?" 

"Yeah. Let's let the world end, but this time, let's just see what 


Additional records in the campus registry were discovered to have 
significant discrepancies, drawing the attention of a local FBI affiliate 
investigating suspected fraud and fiscal misconduct. The 
appearance of anomalously created FBI agents lacking physical 
documentation (but maintaining highly sensitive information) drew 
the attention of the Unusual Incidents Unit, and later the Foundation. 


On 10/01/2009 a joint investigation made by the Unusual Incidents 
Unit of a local FBI affiliate and the Foundation into the campus 
registry found multiple records for students determined either to be 
duplicate entries, alumni, or non-existent. Additional personnel were 
called in to expanded their search to include university enrollment 
and employment records, financial aid and scholarship applications, 
and charitable donations made on behalf of alumni. From this 
investigation, the following discrepancies were discovered: 


¢ 186 students present on-campus were not registered in any 

systems. All 186 students could provide school ID cards and 

official schedules bearing student IDs. 

15 custodial employees’ entries contained falsified information 

apparently duplicated from another staff employee. 

* 32 students were duplicated using different student ID 
numbers, totaling 100 fictitious registration entries. Over the 
course of their enrollment, 12 of the students provided student 
IDs with information matching different duplicate entries at 
different times. None of the students claim to have multiple ID 
cards and could not provide an explanation for the apparent 
discrepancies. 

* Two professors possessed no employment records or 
registration information. (Determined to be caused by a filing 
error. The professors have since been cleared). 

* students, male and female, have claimed to be "Joshua 

", a freshman student described as a black Hispanic male. 
None of the students claiming to be Mr. are black Hispanic 
males. All have provided student ID numbers and ID cards 
bearing their respective photographs. None of the cards show 
signs of forgery or tampering. 

¢ 1,399 students were assigned to the same two dorm rooms in 
the Residential Hall (four stories, maximum occupancy 
was listed as 450 students). Foundation agents sent to 


comes next. | mean, every time something goes wrong, we 
immediately reboot. Aren't you a little interested to see what 
happens after?" 

"Well, kind of." 

"Yeah you are! Just kick back and relax. It isn't like - snort - it isn't 
like the world's gonna end if you do." 

aa ws I'm hitting the reset." 

"Hey hold on-" 


2597 

"You fucker! What was that for!" 

"The joke. It sucked. That wasn't even a pun." 

"Oh shut up." 

"Seriously though, what kind of joke was that supposed to be?" 
"| dunno. An ironic one, | guess." 

"Do you even know what irony means." 

"... Does it even matter?" 

"| don't want to live in a world with your jokes." 

".,...Oh shut up. Look what you did. Only twenty-seven hundred 
years before scorched earth this time." 

"Wouldja take a look at that! | don't think that color's ever been 
described on the visual spectrum before!" 

“Thought for sure that dumbing 'em down would work. What do you 
think went wrong?" 

"Eh, we've got time to figure it out. What do you think it is?" 

"It's boring as shit is what it is." 

"Tch, plebeian." 

"Plebe-what the fuck?" 

"What?" 

"Plebeian, that's what! Nobody's used that word in millions a’ years!" 
"We watched language evolve yesterday." 

"Oh you know what | mean!" 

"| do. You're an idiot." 

"... Takes one to know one!" 

"Do you look in the mirror a lot?" 

"That doesn't even make sense!" 

"Shut up!" 

"Ow! Hey!" 


2598 


"Grrk! Let go!" 


2599 
"Grrf!" 
"Rrrgg \" 


2600 
"Guh \" 
"Gaah|" 


"Oh shit." 

"Oh shit? Oh shit." 

"It's sparking, what does that mean?" 

"It means it's broken, you idiot!" 

"I'm the idiot! You're the one whose elbow got lodged in it!" 
"You're the one who lodged my elbow in it!" 

"This isn't helping! How do we fix it?" 

"| don't know! | only know how to operate it!" 

"Shit it's sparking some more!" 

"What do we fucking-" 


2601 

"Oh God, this is it! It's happening!" 

"Calm down. We've prepped for this. What kind of scenario?" 
".,.AK-class, cause unclear. The signal came from Area-23. Critical 
containment failure, final countermeasures unsuccessful." 

“Alright. Initiate sequence AK-23. Scranton Reality Anchors fully 
functioning, time dilation active, reality checks indicate no distortion, 
we are set on this end." 

"Hume readings stable. Physical Constants Calibrator fully 
functioning. Initiating reconstruction in 3,2,1..." 


Rebranding 


Mr. Carter and Mr. Marshall are sitting at a table. They are 
discussing something. The door swings open. Enter Mr. Dark. 


MR. DARK. Gentlemen, | have an unpleasant piece of news to tell 
you! Our stock went seventeen points further down. We're losing 
customers at an astonishing pace. 


MR. MARSHALL, MR. CARTER [together]. How come?! 


MR. DARK. The competition is meddling in our affairs! The SCP 
Foundation is robbing our customers, the Church of Broken God and 
the Meat Circus are draining away people of influence, the Factory's 
market share is growing - plainly, we have no chance in the small 
business! 


MR. CARTER. What do we do now? With things as they are now, 
we'll soon be eaten out of house and home and no amount of pull is 
going to help. 


MR. DARK. Calm down, colleagues! I've thought it all over. If we 
can't sell expensive artifacts to the rich, we'll craft them production- 
scale and make them available to the public! We'll open a dozen 
offices in different countries - who knows, we may end up with a 
hundred or two of them. 


MR. MARSHALL. Can we handle it as we are? It's a larger scale 
compared to what we have now... 


MR. DARK. | told you - I've thought it all over and made some 
agreements. Allow me to introduce... 


Enter four people. 


FIRST [taking off his hat and revealing small horns on his head]. Mr. 
Natas, a lawyer. 


SECOND [adjusting his tie]. Mr. Luke. | don't like being called by my 
full name, it brings too much unwanted attention. 


THIRD. Mr. Dark Jr. 

MR. DARK. Family business, so to say. 

MR. MARSHALL [obviously annoyed]. Now who's that dude? 
DUDE. Scruffy. I'm a janitor. 

MR. DARK. He owns the control stake. 

MR. CARTER. Things are really bad for us, aren't they. 


MR. DARK [addressing the guests]. Meet Mr. Marshall and Mr. 
Carter, the owners of our little business. Fabulous people, you'll fall 
into step in no time. 


MR. NATAS. The contracts are signed, we can start immediately. 
Although, being a co-owner of the company, | insist on a rebranding. 
We all deserve to be mentioned in the name. 


MR. CARTER [making some calculations]. Too big. Even if we 
simply take the initials. Just listen to it! MCDNLDS! 


MR. MARSHALL. | beg your pardon, but | insist that Mr. Scruffy's 
name is to be separated from the rest. Nothing personal, but a 
janitor director might scare the customers away. 


MR. CARTER. We'll use an apostrophe. Do you mind, Mr. Scruffy? 
SCRUFFY. Not at all. 


MR. MARSHALL. Perfect. Still, the name is barely readable, let 
alone easy to memorize. Maybe if we add some vowels... 


Recollections of a Gentleman's Gentleman