He removed his phone from his pocket and dialed Blanchard’s 
number. 
“After all this time, hmm. I'll have it interviewed.” 


“| don’t know how she got to my room, | don’t know why | fucking- 
fucked- her- if it was even her, I- my head-” 


Blanchard silenced him with a hand as he sat back down at his desk 
chair. “I'll have it taken care of. Wait here until the guards escort you 
to the medical wing.” 


It was night outside. He wished he could smell it. The window was 
nothing but a black rectangle with the tiniest specks of light along 
the perimeter fence visible in the distance. Suddenly Blanchard’s 
office seemed a little too fluorescent contrasted with the darkness 
outside. It still looked the same as his old one. The pain in his skull, 
behind his eyes, pulsed again. Leeward put his head in his hands 
and leaned on the desk. When the guards showed up, he barely 
bothered to walk. 


November 5th, 2016, Site-19 


“_..Is it you?” 


“My name is Agent Lockwood. I’m here to ask you a few questions.” 
Lockwood thought she heard a stifled cry through the door, or 
maybe it was a gasp. “I need to open the door if you do not 
respond.” She didn’t wait very long before doing so. 


“What do you need?” Aline backed nervously toward the table. 
“To ask you a few questions.” She took a chair. 
“About what?” 


Lockwood clapped a clipboard down onto the table. “What is your 
relationship with Adam Leeward?” 


“W-what?” 


“Your containment specialist, Adam Leeward. Did he have sexual or 
romantic relations with you during his six-month assignment to your 
project?” She clicked her pen and made sure the recorder was 
visible on the table. 


Her face contorted in pain. "It's been months and months." Her voice 
cracked. 


"lam referencing the time from July to December, 2015." 
Aline almost laughed, but it came out as a sob. “No...?” 
“Why the hesitation?” Lockwood didn’t break her gaze. 


“Um... because that- question came out of nowhere, | guess? | 
mean, what else do you want me to say-” 


“If necessary, additional means of gaining information will be used. 
Speak the truth.” 


Aline glowered. “I liked him." She sniffed. She didn't care if this 
woman saw her upset. "Liking each other is against the rules. We 
never spoke of it. Sometimes | wondered if it really was mutual or if 
he just had more of a heart than the rest of you do." 


"| see." 
"...We never touched each other. And he never came back.” 
“Mmm. Did you love him?” 


She bit her tongue and inhaled, trying to let anger replace 
depression in her mind. “No, | don’t have Stockholm Syndrome. Are 
we done here?” she snapped, tensing. 


“No, we’re not. Has Adam Leeward ever amnesticized you?” 


She thought for a moment, trying to remember what that meant. 
“No...?” She paused. "How would | even know if he had?" 


"Do you recall any abnormal testing procedures carried out without 
the presence of at least one additional staff member?" 


"Oh. No." 


Lockwood scribbled something on the paper. “Kay. Secondly, when 
is the last time you left this room?” 


“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Nowhere.” 


Lockwood raised an eyebrow. 


"| haven't gone anywhere, | mean. Except when the doctor takes me 
down the hall to the lab." 


"Okay." 
“What? What the fuck do you want me to say?” 
“Remain calm or I'll have the guards restrain you.” 


“I’m pretty sure it’s within my rights to sit still and argue with you, 
bitch,” she muttered, clenching her fingers. “I haven’t gone any- 
fucking-where. | sit here and do nothing for months, for years pretty 
soon here. And I've never once hurt anyone or been anything but 
compliant. Bring in your fucking gadgets and gizmos and lie 
detectors if you’re so inclined, but | have no idea what you’re on 
about and | want you out of my room.” 


“You were in Adam Leeward’s employee quarters between the 
hours of eight PM and nine PM on November 3rd, no? And 
potentially multiple times other than that?” 


“What the hell- | was right here! Check your damn hallway cameras! 
I’ve been sitting on my ass doing jack-shit! | don't even know where 
Adam is! | haven't seen him in a year!” 


Lockwood paused and set the clipboard back down on the table. 
“What was the last thing Leeward said to you?” 


She looked down, face twitching. “That he was transferring to a 
different project and wouldn’t be back,” she murmured. 


“Okay. Do you have additional anomalous effects outside of those 
documented which you are withholding from our knowledge?” 


“No.” 
“Have you tampered with the Scranton Reality Anchors?” 
“No. For fuck’s sake, | don’t even know where they are.” 


“Very well. This interview is concluded.” She stood up and pushed 
the chair under the table, scraping it against the concrete. “Agents 


Farris and Williamson are stationed outside your door. Inform them if 
you need anything.” 


Aline almost responded with a retort, but decided against it. She 
didn’t move from her seat until long after the door was closed. 


November 6th, 2016, Site-81 


”,...Stationed outside your door. Inform them if you need anything.” 


Blanchard clicked the recorder off and slid it across the desk. “She 
was being honest?” 


“She has no reason to lie. She’s been cooperative since the start, 
we all know that.” 


Blanchard fiddled with the end of a piece of paper sitting on his 
desk. “She sounded hostile.” 


“Standoffish, sure, but no physical hostility or verbal threats.” 


“So you think Leeward’s lying?” Blanchard asked, more to test 
Lockwood than to see if she knew an answer. 


“| don’t see why he would. | don’t know him that well, but if he turned 
himself in to you all those months ago about being attracted to her, 
and he hasn't mentioned her since, he doesn’t seem like the type 
to-” 


“| can’t talk personally about him.” He waved his hand. “No, he’s 
sick.” 


“... sick,’ sir?” 


“| mean there’s something wrong with him. He’s physically sick, | 
mean. I’ve been scouring security feeds and reports filed under his 
name in the database, but he hasn’t been around anything 
anomalous that could lead to him acting like this. The hallucinations 
he described — if we’re going to go with it not being real, that is — are 
extremely uncharacteristic of anything in his medical records." He 


absentmindedly straightened a stack on his papers and took a beat. 
"And he’s confused to begin with. He thinks he’s been seeing 
someone every night for the past ten months. He thinks that damn 
skip is pregnant, for fuck’s sake, but at the same time she’s not 
pregnant, we tested that over and over and over again ever since 
we found his stupid kid's book, and- hell, Lock, they haven’t even 
had sex in the first place. None of it adds up.” 


“Wait, Leeward thinks he’s been dating-” She cringed at that word. “- 
seeing her for... ten months, is it?” 


"He’s not talking anything sensible. He seems to be under the 
impression that the person he sees is a different person every night 
or week or whatever the timeframe is, and just hasn’t noticed 
because of... whatever reason.” 


Lockwood frowned. “Uh...” 


“Yes, so whoever he’s seeing isn’t a ‘someone’ at all, it's some sort 
of hallucination. We inferred that. But he's not prone to 
hallucinations, naturally, psychologically. You know how rigorous 
Foundation psych testing is. We would have caught an issue that big 
years ago, when he was first hired.” 


“...50 if you know that, why’d | have to interview-” 


“Because we can’t be sure it’s not some extension of her anomalous 
effects. That’s the only anomaly Leeward worked with before we 
transferred him to his paperwork job, after all.” 


“Oh. But she said it’s... not. Her. She doesn't even think about 
Leeward.” 


"...Oh, she thinks about him. | promise you that." 

Lockwood cocked her head. 

“We'll see if it is or not.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. 
“Lee’s in the medical ward now with people talking to him. I'll update 


you in twelve hours.” 


“Yes sir.” 


“Okay, let’s start from the top again. Did you or did you not have 
sexual relations with SCP-” 


“No! | fucking submitted that damn statement to Blanchard back in 
2015 so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen!” Leeward gestured to 
his surroundings. The lighting was the worst he'd ever experienced 
in the entire Site, and the white, borderline-reflective hospital 
bedding didn’t help. “I did not!” 


“Very well, very well. Have you been exposed to any anomalous 
items other than the aforementioned humanoid?” 


“Not that | know of,” he groaned. "All | do now is file paper-" 
“Very well, and what are your symptoms other than... confusion, 
memory loss, paranoia, headaches, excessive perspiration, and 
body tremors?” 

“Oh, that’s it,” he said almost sarcastically. 

“Okay. Can you tell me more about the pregnancy?” 

“Aline is pregnant. Mistakes happen.” 

The interviewer frowned. “Beg your pardon?” 

“Mistakes happen!” 


“Earlier you said that-” 


He slammed his fist on the bedding. “Look, there’s Aline, okay, the 
skip down there at 19 in containment crying her eyes out because | 
told her | wasn’t coming back, and then there’s this- thing. This 
person that’s always in my room at night and when | see them | just- 
remember them!" 


"| see." 


"| just- | see them as someone I've been with, someone | was with, 
someone I've always wanted to be with, all of the above and it just- 
feels- | just don't question it! It feels normal, unless | think about it 


too hard, and when | think about it, when | think about it too hard, | 
get a headache! I’m not a fucking psychologist, alright, all | do is 
white-collar bullshit and at this point | don’t know if it’s a hallucination 
because | get no sleep and always have a headache or it’s 
something anomalous that we don’t know about, so as soon as | 
realized that something wasn’t right, | immediately told Blanchard 
and now we’re here! | feel barely conscious when I’m around her 
and I-” 


“Around who?” The interviewer leaned forward. 
“Aline, fucking damn it!” 
“Sir, calm down.” 


Leeward realized he was gripping the bedsheets with a force that 
was turning his knuckles white. He noticed Blanchard was standing 
by the door. 


“Who are you referring to?” the interviewer added. 


“Whoever it is in my room that’s always waiting for me to come 
home.” 


“Ah, okay. And you sometimes perceive the anomaly in your 
quarters as the SCP object you were once assigned to, because 
you're attracted to it. Were once attracted to it. And this is in 
reference to the report filed in December 2015 and your subsequent 
transfer to this Site.” 


“Which is why | told Blanchard to take me off the project, yes. I’m not 
trying to break rules. | never tried to break rules. | haven’t broken 
rules. | can’t help that-” 


“That aspect of the situation isn’t necessary to discuss at this time,” 
Blanchard interrupted, stepping in and sitting at the foot of 
Leeward’s bed. “That’s done and gone. We just need to figure out 
what it is doing this to you so that we can put a stop to it and prevent 
it from affecting other people — that is, if it hasn’t already.” 


“Okay,” he muttered. 


“Just stay here and stay calm. I'll do the asking-around, get all the 
departments in on your symptoms and see if anyone has a lead. 
Okay?” 


He nodded. He didn’t bother arguing about privacy; it didn’t exist 
here anyway, no matter what lies the security department made up. 


“Pll be back in several hours.” 


“Okay.” He didn’t watch him walk out, instead focusing on the 
framed picture Agent Ketson had left by his bedside. It was an old 
print of the two of them standing in a containment wing together. He 
didn’t remember having it taken. 


“Sometimes | wish you had my job, Blanch,” the Cognitohazards & 
Infohazards Department director told him as he took a seat at their 
desk. 


“Because it’s a pain in the ass?” he said only half-jokingly. 
They shrugged. “That, and you'd be good at it.” 
He didn’t know what to say to that. “What do you have?” 


“Well, the memetics team found a concerning image - a gift from the 
Are We Cool Yet punks - in the break room.” 


“Always something. What’s that have to do with this?” 


“We're still figuring that out. But in preliminary tests and interviews, 
we're getting signs that it’s definitely a cognitohazard involving- | 
don’t know to phrase it, but sexuality is pretty heavily involved.” 


He grimaced. “What, you think it's related? Do you want me to ask 
Leeward if he’s seen it?” 


“We don’t know which parts to redact to make it safe to view yet. 
Hell, I’m not allowed to look at it, even. It’s already fucking up three 
people from the break room and two of my level 2 researchers.” 


“Shit.” 


“Yes, shit.” They ran a hand through their hair. “Nonetheless, we're 
drafting an SCP document now. We'll let you know.” 


"When?" 
"Days. Weeks. This may not even be the right lead." 
"It really has to take that long?" 


"There's nothing we can do but try, Blanchard. If you shoot a few 
dozen D-classes our way, | won't complain. Anything to speed it up." 


“Alright.” 
December 1st, 2016, Site-81 
"| just want to thank you again for visiting me. You're a- you mean a 


lot to me." 


"| care about you, Lee.” Ketson gripped his hand and leaned further 
toward his bed. "I'm so sorry this happened to you." 


"They'll figure it out," he muttered, shaking his head. "And 
someone's always had worse." 


Ketson chuckled. "You want me to move to 81?" He rubbed his palm 
with a thumb. Leeward wasn't sure how it felt. 


"If you want." 
"Do you want me to?" 


He turned his head to the side and looked into Ketson's eyes. For 
the first time in a while, he didn't feel pain behind his retinas or in his 
skull. "If you want." 


Ketson smiled and patted his shoulder, standing up. "I'll be back ina 
few hours." 


"Okay." 


SCP-979: Stoneware Rabbit 


Item #: SCP-979 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: All individuals suspected of 
being exposed to SCP-979 must be reviewed for changes in psyche. 
SCP-979 itself should be contained in a wire cage (and plastic 
flooring) approximately five (5) metres in length, height, and width. 
As SCP-979 does not produce waste, there is little need for any 
bedding. However, SCP-979 should be given a water dispenser of 
150 milliliters, refilled daily, to prevent drying out. Also, SCP-979 is 
allowed one (1) shelter in its cage, consisting of commercial plastic 
of any color made for medium to large members of the Leporidae 
family normally sold in pet shops for companionship. SCP-979 is to 
be monitored with a hidden camera twenty-four (24) hours a day. 
Should SCP-979's behavior change in any way, it is to be logged 
and reported to a level 3 or higher personnel. 


Description: SCP-979 is an animated stoneware figurine in the 
shape of a member of the family Leporidae. SCP-979 shows subtle 
differences from traditional members of Leporidae, including but not 
limited to the ability to express emotion through facial changes and 
posture that is congruent with typical human reactions. SCP-979 
lacks proper anatomy, with its ears and back legs being too long and 
large, and therefore has extreme difficulty with normal movement. 
The behavior of SCP-979 shows some sentience, but it generally 
only reacts to any stimuli with fear and/or avoidance. Any other 
reaction must be reported to level 3 or higher personnel. 


SCP-979 emits a high-frequency noise in response to any stimuli; 
the volume appears proportionate to SCP-979's level of distress. 
Extended proximity to SCP-979 causes synesthesia of all senses, 
typically manifesting after four (4) hours and escalating over a 
variable period of approximately three (3) weeks. Exposure to the 
noise produced by SCP-979 has been shown to increase the rate at 


Several seconds after he left, Leeward heard a knock beside the 
door. Blanchard walked in. "Hey."