She was fidgeting anxiously in the dreamscape constructed in her 
mind, and this anxiety finally had leaked down through the layers of 
her mind to affect her physical form. Her physical form that was 
pretending to be asleep, and had been pretending to be asleep for 
quite a long time now. 


A very long time. Especially for a kid. But, you know. It's what kept 
the rest of them happy. 


Well — most of them. But the ones who could see through it didn't 
need to be made happy. So far, at least. 


She could wipe them all out with a thought, but that would be... 
horrible. Unbearable. She liked them way too much. They were 
lovely people, when she watched them in her projected astral form, 
and many of them had been even more lovely before when she was 
allowed to be awake, even Clef when she'd accidentally confused 
him into trying to kill her. (If that's what she'd actually done. It was 
hard to remember, and years ago by now. Almost another lifetime, 
for someone as young as her.) 


She loved people. 


Sigurrés' physical form stirred again, and the old-fashioned 
stabilized telekill alloy that still lined her walls began dissolving a 


little faster. 


She needed to calm down. But it was hard. What was coming up 
was too big. She'd had two months to think about it, and she still 
technically had the option to say "No", but she wasn't gonna. 


Of course she wasn't gonna. The consequences were too much for 
her to even consider saying "No". 


She could project herself in the future and see it. A vast black hole in 
the world — a hole in reality, with her at ground zero. 


Everyone, everything she loved gone in an instant. Leaving her to 
float into the void. Truly alone. 


And it would be all her fault. 
So she couldn't say no, and she couldn't fail. 


Sigurros Stefansdottir sat in the landscape of her mind and watched 
a conjured clock count down. Twenty hours. 


Two Months Ago 


We serpents coil in our nest. 


We are the wanderers gone wandering. We walk the 
road of still water. We abjure the eyes upon us. We see 
through the fogged glass. 


This is Jailor ground. They call it "Site-17." It is the 
Jailor's largest humanoid containment facility. The 
largest anomalous prison. More than one god is chained 
here. 


We are not the only ones watching. They suspect our 
presence, but right now will do nothing. They do not 
understand what is coming. Nor Joanna Cross’s mission. 


We watch Joanna Cross sit at a white table in a white 


room. This is an interrogation chamber. Her interrogator 
enters: Jailor's Doctor Kendra Campbell. 


Kendra Campbell opens her notebook and shows 
Joanna Cross its contents. 


Kendra Campbell: "No script. These are my notes. Just 
notes, for what I'm gonna ask you. No script." 


Joanna Cross nods her head. 


Kendra Campbell: "Okay. Okay. Between you and me 
and everyone monitoring us right now... | am shit at this. 
| don't know why they're so insistent on me interrogating 
you, and | don't know why they're letting me ask my own 
questions, and | don't know why you asked me to, 
and..." 


She pauses to take a breath. 


Kendra Campbell: "You said | should be asking you 
questions that aren't from my script. So. Okay." 


She hesitates. 


Kendra Campbell: "We've met thirty-seven times so far. 
In normal people terms, outside of here, that would make 
us friends. We're not friends and we both know that. But 

hey, maybe you can help me out a bit here. What do you 
want me to ask you?" 


There is a tremble in the air — not visible to Kendra 
Campbell — as she fulfills the terms of the geas. She 
remains unaware of this. 


Joanna Cross: "My gods, Doctor. They didn't tell you a 
single thing, did they?" 


Kendra Campbell: "I..." 


Joanna Cross: "That's okay. You asked me a question 
that came from you, both sincerely and of your own 


volition. Technically, you're being coerced into sitting 
here across from me, but that's okay. You've fulfilled the 
terms of the geas." 


Kendra Campbell: "What's a geas?" 


Joanna Cross: "It's a type of magical binding. Your 
bosses knew about it already. Did you figure out why 
they made you read only from that list of questions?" 


Kendra Campbell: "Why? Are you going to explain it to 
me?" 


Joanna Cross: "Don't mind if | do. They know | wanted 
to talk to one of you. They knew | could only give new 
information as a response to direct questions. They've 
interrogated Hand members under circumstances like 
this before, you know. They wanted to know how much 
I'd volunteer without you having to give anything yourself. 
Plus some other concerns about memetics." 


Kendra Campbell: "I'm not sure | get this." 


Joanna Cross: "They don't totally get it either. It's all 
very silly. You're all trying to play a game where you 
don't understand half the rules." 


Kendra Campbell: "Man, if this was all it took to get you 
to gush like this..." 


She laughs. 


Kendra Campbell: "You should've said something 
before. All the times you gave me that same damn line, 
over and over..." 


Joanna Cross: "| didn't have much of a choice. | did feel 
like kind of an ass." 


Kendra Campbell: "Because of the, er... the geas." 


Joanna Cross: "That's over now, at least for this 


interview. Kind of a relief. All that crap made me really 
want to talk. Makes me wonder if this was all part of your 
plan. Your boss's plan, anyway. We've already 
established you don't know anything." 


Kendra Campbell: "So does that make me the good 
cop?" 


Joanna Cross: "Sure. Don't think I'll tell you everything, 
though. You are still a Jailor." 


Kendra Campbell: "Jailors. Right. That's your name for 
us." 


Joanna Cross: "It's just slang. Don't take it personal. 
You tend to pick it up if you hang around with the Hand 
long enough. But you can't deny it's got a bit of... 
veracity to it, can you?" 


Kendra Campbell: "We secure, we contain, we protect," 
Campbell said. "If you want to call us Jailors for it, then | 
guess | can't stop you." 


Joanna Cross: "What questions did you want to ask 
me?" 


Kendra Campbell takes a photo from her notebook and 
shows it to Joanna Cross. The photo shows blue lily 
faerie chains. 


Kendra Campbell: "What are these?" 


Joanna Cross: "Blue lily chains. My blue lily chains, in 
fact." 


Kendra Campbell: "Are they even anomalous?" 
Joanna Cross: "What do you think?" 


Kendra Campbell: "Fuck if | know. Field agents seem to 
think they are. But I've hit them with every test in the 
book, and..." She waves her hand. "They seem pretty 


normal to me." 


Joanna Cross: "Your agents already know they're 
anomalous, and they already know what they do. | don't 
know why they didn't tell you." 


Kendra Campbell: "What do they do?" 


Joanna Cross: "The field agents are correct. We Hand 
members use these flower chains for... for magical good 
luck, basically. Minor protective wards. You know. Or... 
well, no you don't know. And that's the point, isn't it?" 


Kendra Campbell: "What's the point?" 


Joanna Cross: "This is a little something a precocious 
teenager could put together. Something a bunch of 
teenagers understand, and it's something one of the 
Foundation's best and brightest can't crack. Why?" She 
leans forward. "Knowledge." 


Kendra Campbell: "| could've cracked it if | had a higher 
clearance level," Campbell said, a little resentfully. "We 
do have people studying thaumotology. We're not stupid, 
you know." 


Joanna Cross: "I just said that. Knowledge. You're not 
stupid, just ignorant. So why didn't they tell you, do you 
think?" 


Kendra Campbell: "Maybe they wanted me to figure out 
some... new mundane tests for detecting magic. Maybe 
they wanted to be sure it was really anomalous. | don't 
know. I'm not high enough clearance yet for this.” 


Joanna Cross: "Maybe they'll wipe your memory of this 
conversation." 


Kendra Campbell: "Maybe." 


Joanna Cross: "Well, knowing what spells are imbued in 
those chains would help. You could crack exactly which 


ones in those fairy chains in about thirty minutes if you 
know how. That's being generous. Just takes some basic 
counter-magic." 


Kendra Campbell: "I'm flattered, but I'm not a reality 
bender. Pretty sure | can't, you know, do magic. Let 


alone 'counter-magic’. 


Joanna Cross: "How do you know? Why don't you try 
performing some magic and find out?" 


Kendra Campbell: "That's definitely above my 
clearance level." 


Joanna Cross: "That clearance level stuff you have sure 
is something. Pretty sure that 'something' isn't 'the 
scientific method’. Kind of ironic for a Foundation full of 
scientists, don't you think?" 


Kendra Campbell: "| thought you guys were all about 
the Harry Potter Muggles versus Wizards shit. You know, 
inborn genetics special powers teenager fantasy thing. 
Only the Chosen Few." 


Joanna Cross laughs. 


Joanna Cross: "Maybe a few of our traditionalists, but 
they're full of shit. Anyone could make these fairy chains, 
in the same way that anyone can do multiplication. You 
need a pencil or computer to write out the equations. 
And to know, you know, multiplication tables. And 
numbers." 


Kendra Campbell: "Numbers?" 


Joanna Cross: "Yes. That's just it, though, isn't it? You 
Foundation scientists... you barely know the difference 
between one and three and you classify the existence of 
two, and here you are trying to perform calculus. And 
you damn well aren't going to let the rest of the world 
learn to count while you're at it. You wanna keep them in 


the dark." 
Kendra Campbell: "We're preserving normalcy." 
Joanna Cross: "And what's that mean?" 


Kendra Campbell: "We're guarding against panic in the 
streets." 


Joanna Cross: "They still panic in the streets. You just 
wipe their memories of it. And my gods, how often you 
have to break out amnestics. Do you know how many 
tons of amnestics the Foundation goes through per 
year? No, you probably don't, do you. | wonder how 
many Foundation members are killed by anomalies 
compared to Hand members. Is that above your 
clearance level too?" 


Kendra Campbell: "| can't imagine you know that either. 
You're just baiting me." 


Joanna Cross: "You're the one who wanted answers. 
That's the real difference here. Knowledge." 


Kendra Campbell doesn't answer. 


Joanna Cross: "How about that, huh? A bunch of 
witches, punks, and bookworms know more about the 
world than a whole organization of scientists and their 
paramilitary muscle. It's no wonder you're not very good 
at the whole... secure, contain, protect, you said. Right?" 


Kendra Campbell: "You sure are full of cheap rhetorical 
points." 


Joanna Cross: "Then have another. Do you support gay 
rights?" 


Kendra Campbell: "Where the hell is this going?" 


Joanna Cross: "It's just a question. Just to see where 
we stand." 


instructed, D-713-235 inadvertently induced a stop error (“Blue 
Screen of Death”). See Incident Report 713-23 for further details. 
See Incident Reports [DATA EXPUNGED}] for details of similar 
incidents. 


Note: All testing regarding effects of SCP-713's computer crashes is 
hereby suspended. Researchers involved have received 
posthumous reprimands. —O5- 


Kendra Campbell: "Yeah, of course | fucking do. My 
sister is gay." She hesitates. "And also, I'm not an 
asshole." 


Joanna Cross: "So what would you do if the someone 
said that gays were a threat to normalcy and had to be 
locked up for the good of everyone?" 


Kendra Campbell: "Look, lady. In the cellblock just 
down from here we have a guy who can laser your face 
off with his eyes. I'm pretty sure my gay sister can't laser 
your face off with her eyes." 


Joanna Cross: "How would you know?" 
Kendra Campbell: "Pardon?" 


Joanna Cross: "How would you know your gay sister 
can't laser your face off with her eyes?” 


Kendra Campbell: "| don't think you're making a very 
strong argument here." 


Joanna Cross: "No, seriously. Do you have any idea 
why the man in the cellblock just down from here can 
laser your face off with his eyes? Can you predict the 
typical occurrence of face-lasering in the general 
population?" 


Kendra Campbell: "Could you, in my position?" 
Joanna Cross: "| don't know. But | sure would be better 
equipped to find out. You getting my point?" 
Present Day 
There were some things amusingly mundane about how the Library 
worked, L.S. thought. The Library Cards were one of them. 


Yes, they looked impressive: glimmering squares of etched brass for 


the permanent Cards. And, yes, the Library Cards had your name 
on them, a name that acted as your True Name for any magical 
purposes. 


But beyond that, they were essentially just library cards like any 
mundane Earth library card. 


In days not so long gone by the Library Cards were one giant 
weakness just sitting there in your pocket, since anyone could steal 
them and use them against you. The True Name made you 
effectively ‘willing’ for the purposes of any spell cast upon you. A 
pretty awful situation to find yourself in, and not well balanced 
against the mere ability to take books outside of the Library. 


But whoever ran things behind the scenes at the Library had wised 
up. They'd added new protections to Library Cards, and new 
privileges, too, for certain users. 


Privileges such as direct access to the Archives. 


The Archives was the informal term for the parts of the Library 
where humanoid sapients weren't allowed by default, at least not 
through the front doors. The Librarians had never minded those few 
who managed to find ways in or, well, Ways in, but those paths were 
always very dangerous. 


As well they should be. The Archives were part of the underlying 
machinery of the Library, part networked prison-slash-zoo for 
various greater and lesser monstrosities that had invaded the 
Library over the centuries, part restricted text section, and part 
passage to Library wings for non-humanoid sapient entities to go 
read their equivalent of books. Some of it was filled with acid, a 
sizable portion completely underwater. If Cthulhu wanted to to check 
out a book, the Archives were where he'd pay his visit. 


The Librarians classically hadn't been very enthusiastic about letting 
humanoid sapients in there, if only because they didn't like losing 
Patrons. But that was, again, before the Library Card upgrades. 


Now, if your account was in good standing (which hers was), and if 
you'd performed certain tasks (which she had), and if you'd done 


certain favors for the Library (which she had), they would conjure a 
service entrance Way just for you. 


The new-issue Library Cards could literally let you breathe 
underwater, after all. Even in acid. They still didn't exactly make the 
Archives safe, but, you know, every little bit counted. 


L.S. headed towards the local Library desk, took off her cap, and 
nodded to the Archivists working there. Librarians could see through 
the Cap of Neglect, of course, but they seemed to find it annoying to 
talk to her when she was under its effects. 


She walked past the desk and wandered the stacks directly behind 
it. It took only moments, this time, for a robed Docent with a few 
more arms than the norm to materialize like a walking pillar from the 
gloom. 


She knew this Docent by sight, from the gold-and-violet symbol on 
its shoulder. A symbol unique in color and shape: a distinguishing 
mark. Very unusual. Identity was a privilege granted to few 
Librarians. Being a Librarian was, after all, a punishment. 


This Docent was a "trustee". Most Docents had only one hand, the 
other replaced by a chain and a lantern, and most Docents had no 
mouth. This Docent was the same, but had been granted 
"additions".