Should mechanical disassembly fail, preset shaped charges shall be 
used to disassemble SCP-738. The system should then be repaired 
and reset by a single engineer fitted with an explosive collar. 


All Class D personnel used to test the device must be mildly 
intellectually disabled or of comparably impaired cognitive function, 
and must be fitted with an explosive collar. This is in order to prevent 
them from learning too much about SCP-738 and possibly using 
SCP-738 in a way that is detrimental to the Foundation. 


Class D personnel with IQs over 60, and all other personnel are not 
allowed into the room containing SCP-738. Class D personnel are 
allowed into the room containing SCP-738 for experimentation only 
and are to be provided with continual instruction by research 
personnel. 


| « Archival Document -- HSA-008-Advent || Black S 


Make Portland Weirder 


August, 1970 


As Agent Josephine Creed sat beneath a pine tree in Oregon’s Milo 
Mclver State Park, she came to the realization that she hated her 
current assignment. Wearing plainclothes during a field operation 
was one thing, but tie-dye, bell bottoms, and flowers braided into her 
hair made her want to punch someone. Then punch them again. 
She sighed and then looked around. The Vortex I music festival 
was underway all around her, filling her eyes and ears with the 
sights and sounds the local rock and roll scene had to offer. 


“What the hell am | even doing here?” Creed asked herself. 


She already knew the answer. Over a year prior, during 
Woodstock, several anartists had caused multiple instances of 
trouble. From acid laced with a compound that made you see your 
lives in parallel universes to soaps that made your skin glow various 
colors in tie dye patterns, the whole festival was a hot mess of 
breaches of the veil. At least three riots broke out among the 
performances, and in one instance an entire stage descended into 
hell, band and all. It was a good thing drug use had run rampant 
there, and that the drugs of choice affected memory, because 
enough amnestics had been given out to wipe out the collective 
remembrance of a small city. This time around, however, the 
Foundation was prepared for the worst. Dozens of field agents like 
her were sprinkled throughout the venue, with amnestic sprays and 
other tricks up their sleeves to quickly and quietly squash any 
anomalous activity as they found it. 


The sound of a frenzy of applause and cheers broke Creed from her 
reflection. Looking up, she watched as the Portland Zoo Electric 
Band finished its set and began to clear the stage for the next 
performance. She gave a few half-hearted claps of her own as she 
scanned the crowd for a contact that was supposed to have met her 
an hour and a half ago. Some hippie named Phineas. She had 


been told that he had the means of allowing her to literally alter the 

way she saw the universe. She was keeping her fingers crossed for 
a legitimate bust, and not just another peddler of scheduled Class-| 

substances. 


“You Cherry?” A man’s voice came from behind Creed. Turning her 
head, she saw a greasy man with long matted hair peering at her 
from the other side of the tree. Despite the rest of him being dirty, 
the teeth visible in his grin were immaculate. 


“| take it you’re Phineas?” she asked. 


“That me.” He continued to grin. “Marco said you were looking for 
some special supplies to up your concert-going experience. Said 
you passed his test.” 


“Sure am,” Creed replied with a smile, and got to her feet. “Though | 
didn’t know | was being tested at the time.” 


“No one ever does,” Phineas chuckled. “That’s what makes it so far- 
out. Anyway, you ready?” 


“Whenever you are.” Creed twisted a specific bead on her bracelet, 
sending a signal to their HQ that she was in the process of a 
potential bust. A small mental ping went off in the back of her head 
as HQ confirmed receipt of her status. 


“Righteous.” Phineas then turned and began to walk away from the 
crowds. “Follow me.” 


“Wait what?” Creed asked. “We need to leave? Why?” 


“This place is crawling with Suits, sister,” Phineas commented over 
his shoulder. “I’m not stupid enough to bring anything here in bulk 
when Three Ports is a hop, skip, and a jump away. Come on. If we 
don’t hurry you’re not gonna have your treat in time for the next 
show. You'll need it.” 


The two wormed their way through the various crowds, the 
occasional concert-goer nodding to Phineas as they passed. Before 
long they arrived at the opposite edge of the clearing, Phineas 
leading them to a large Douglas fir. He stopped and gave a satisfied 


nod to the tree, then turned back to Creed. 


“Alright Cherry,” he said, “here we are. Go ahead and walk around 
this bad boy five times clockwise then knock on the trunk seven 
times.” 


“Why...” Creed raised a confused eyebrow. 


“You really don’t know do you?” Phineas commented with a grin. 
“Oh man, this is gonna be your first time. You’re in for a treat.” 


“What are you talking about?” 


“You'll see,” Phineas chuckled and gestured for her to get on with it. 
“Go on. Do the walkin’ and knockin’.” 


Creed shrugged, sighed, and then proceeded to do as she had been 
instructed. As soon as she completed the seventh knock, she felt 
the wind rush out of her as her vision went dark, followed by a bright 
white. Creed blinked and now stood in front of a three-dimensional 
shadow of the tree. The summer sun had been replaced by gray 
clouds and rain. As she caught her breath she looked around to find 
herself within a large park, surrounded by the buildings of a large 
city. There was a dull thud, and Phineas appeared next to her. 


“Welcome, sister,” he said with a laugh, “to Three Portlands.” 


“What the fuck...” was all Creed could manage in reply as her head 
swiveled back and forth to take in the change of venue. 


The city itself was huge. A mixture of West Coast, East Coast, and 
European architecture dotted the skyline, punctuated by the 
shadows of buildings she recognized from Portland. A constant 
drizzle of rain fell from a cloud-choked sky. It wasn’t until closer 
examination that she could tell that the raindrops themselves shifted 
between numerous psychedelic patterns as they fell, giving the sky 
a mind-bending coat of color. Within the park where she stood, 
hundreds of people gathered around wooden stages where 
holograms of the various Vortex | shows played out, some of which 
had not yet occurred, their music permeating the park and the city 
beyond. Despite multiple shows playing at once, their sounds didn’t 


blend. All it took was concentrating on the song you wanted to hear 
for the rest to fade away from your ears. Creed twisted a different 
bead on her bracelet, one indicating the discovery of a major 
anomalous find, but never received the mental ping indicating that 
HQ had received her signal. 


“Where the hell are we?” 
“Like | said,” Phineas replied, “we’re in Three Portlands.” 
“What the hell is a Third Portland?” 


“The space where the Portland, Oregon, Portland, Maine, and the 
Isle of Portland in the UK coalesce into a beautiful whole,” Phineas 
explained. “Think of it as a kind of... alternate dimension... A city 
existing outside the mundane world. A far-out town. Granted it’s not 
always done up this nice. They really pulled out the stops for Vortex. 
Hell, you should have seen the party they put on for Woodstock.” 


“How long has this been here?” 
“You got me.” Phineas shrugged. “Forever, maybe?” 


Creed stared at Phineas with her mouth agape. She had so many 
questions, but no more words bubbled up from her throat. 


“You need a moment, | can tell.” Phineas grinned. “But do you mind 
if we take that moment on the run? My apartment is still, like, three 
blocks away once we get out of the park.” 


“You live here?” 


“It’s a city... a lot of people live here. All kinds of people, in fact. 
Artists, writers, scientists, magicians, musicians. You know. Cool 
people. Seriously though, we really need to get moving...” 


“R-right... of course...” Creed gestured for Phineas to lead the way. 
Without a moment's delay, he led her out of the park and into the 
city proper. Despite their distance from the park increasing, the 
sound of Vortex I’s music sounded as though they still were still front 
and center. 


As the two of them weaved their way through the crowded city 
streets, Creed felt more and more like a minnow in a shark tank. 
Around her, anartists openly purchased supplies, magic was 
demonstrated freely, and anahumans of all shapes and sizes 
roamed. The anomalous world flooded her senses and she feared 
they might soon detect her occupation and collapse upon her like an 
avalanche. But the doom never arrived, and the only thing Creed 
was bombarded with was the occasional smile from a passerby, and 
Phineas’s amused chuckles. 


“Here we are,” Phineas eventually said, stopping in front of a tall 
apartment building covered in a thick layer of alternating moss and 
concert posters. “Home sweet home.” 


Creed was led up a set of stairs to a studio apartment. Inside, the 
vast majority of the space was dominated by work benches covered 
in a wide array of half-finished clockwork machines, and various 
sculptures and art pieces. Unwashed plates, half-drunk mugs of tea, 
massive dusty tomes, and an impressive amount of vinyl records 
filled the spaces in-between. 


“Sorry for the mess,” Phineas replied as he headed towards one of 
the work benches and began to dig through the drawers. Creed took 
the time to study the menagerie of art on display, her eyes 
eventually settling on what looked to be a kind of clockwork snake. 


“Wait...” Creed’s brow furrowed. “I remember hearing about these 
things. Couple people out east were keeping them as pets. Bought 
them from someone named Tick Tock. Wait, are you Tick Tock?” 


“In the flesh,” Phineas replied, still digging through the drawers. 
“Had to stop making those after the Suits started busting people for 
them. Though to be fair, they were a bitch to make. Almost lost a 
few limbs once or twice. Aha!” He pulled out a small dropper and 
held it aloft. 


“Is that why you moved here? The Suits.” 


“One reason, yeah.” Phineas shrugged. “As far as | know the Suits 
don’t know about this place. Can’t get busted for following your 
dreams here. Plus, if | fuck up here, normal people won’t get hurt. 


That's a pretty sweet deal in my opinion.” 


He then handed her the dropper. Creed examined it carefully. The 
dark brown glass was labeled with a picture of a dove, and 
appeared to be filled with sand. 


“It'll become liquid once you use the dropper. Two drops in each 
eye. You'll see every possible version of whatever performance you 
are viewing all at once, aaaaaaaaand be able to comprehend them 
too. Just say the word ‘Chicken Feet’ aloud when you want the 
effects to stop.” He then grinned, his immaculate teeth reflecting the 
light of the studio. “You’re in for a mind-blowing time. Trust me, it’s 
the best way to watch a concert. You get to hear al/ the songs.” 


Creed nodded and placed the bottle in her pocket. Normally at this 
point, she’d draw her gun and make the arrest, but given her current 
situation this action seemed unwise. 


“Thank you,” she said. 


“No problem, sister,” he replied. “Though you best be moving along 
if you’re going to make the next show. You can get out the way we 
came in. Just knock seven times and then five counterclockwise 
trips around the tree.” 


“You're not coming?” 


“I’ve got a few more things to grab before | head back to the real 
world. You'll be fine. If you need help, just grab someone in the park. 
They’ll know how to help you.” 


“Thanks for everything then...” Creed nodded. “This place is pretty 
far-out. I'll, uh, probably be back sooner than later.” 


“No one stays away for long. You enjoy the show, Cherry.” 


Without another word, Creed found herself back on the city streets, 
the psychedelic rain still drizzling upon the heads of the busy 
passersby. It was all she could do to keep from sprinting back to her 
exit. This was going to be the biggest Foundation discovery since 
the Wanderer’s Library. She remained calm and collected as she 
disappeared into the flow of the foot traffic, reemerging at the border 


to the park. There, a man in a long brown coat was waiting for her to 
arrive. Creed's eyes widened as he smiled and nodded at her. 


“Heeeeeeeeey skipper,” he said, and began to reach into his coat. 


Creed didn't wait to see what he was going to pull out, choosing 
instead to draw the pistol concealed on her person and firing a shot 
before taking off down the street. Looking over her shoulder she 
could see her shot missed, and hit a tree in the park, the crowd of 
concert goers shouting in confusion at the sound of the gun shot. 
The man in the long coat had dove to the side, and was now getting 
up on his feet to chase after her. 


She zigged and zagged through the crowded streets, her plan to 
move round to the other side of the park, then cut through to the tree 
that contained her exit. As she turned the corner, another man ina 
brown coat leaped at her from a doorway. Creed grabbed him by the 
lapel and, turning his momentum against him, turned and threw him 
into a nearby street vendor's cart filled with flowers. As he crashed 
through the stall the flower petals turned to hummingbirds and flew 
away. Creed would have stared at the tiny creatures in wonder, but 
was too busy sprinting further down the street towards a street car, 
the first man in a long coat close behind her. With the last burst of 
her speed, Creed hopped onto the streetcar's back platform, and 
hauled herself aboard. 


"Hey!" The attendant shouted at her as he forced his way through 
the crowded cars. "Hey you need a ticket, you can't just hop-" 


Creed pointed the barrel of her pistol at him and the man fell silent, 
holding up his hands in surrender. 


"Enjoy your ride..." he said with a nervous smile, and stepped out of 
Creed's way as she navigated to the front car. There was a thud 
from the back as one of the men in the long coats hopped aboard. 


"Open the door," she said to the driver, flashing her pistol. 


"Ma'am | can't do that while we're in motion," the driver replied, her 
eyes looking between Creed's gun and the tracks ahead. "If you wait 
for me to stop, I'd be happy to-" 


Click. Creed pulled the hammer back on the pistol. 
"Open the door!" 


The driver nodded and pulled the lever. Creed quickly hopped out of 
the car, tumbling as she hit the pavement to avoid complications 
from her landing. She waved at the man in the long coat as the 
streetcar continued to glide along its track. Picking herself up, she 
then made the final sprint towards the shadow tree that waited for 
her in the park. 


As soon as she arrived at the dark pine, she slammed her hand into 
it with heavy knocks, counting out loud with each blow. 


Bang. "One!" 
Bang. "Two!" 
Bang. "Three!" 
Bang. "Four!" 
Bang. "Five!" 
Bang. "Six!" 
Bang. "Seven!" 


She then proceeded to make her counterclockwise circuits around 
the tree, only just completing her fourth lap when she was tackled 
from behind and slammed into the wet park grass. 


"God damn it, skipper!" A familiar voice shouted. "We're on your 
side!" 


A badge was pressed into her face. 


Agent Fredrick Gibson 

Federal Bureau of Investigation 
Unusual Incidents Unit 

Three Portlands Division 


"UIU..." Creed muttered. "Are you kidding me? You're UIU?" 


She then began to laugh. The man helped her to her feet, cuffing 
her arms behind her back, as his partner arrived and flashed his 

badge to the crowd of concert goers who had gathered around to 
watch the spectacle. 


"Agent Tobias Wood. UIU. Move along," he said. With murmurs and 
shrugs the crowd soon dispersed.