Hours later, she was driving the senior environmental reporter for 
the Washington Post out to the Arlington suburbs. She’d been 
playing whistleblower with him for years, feeding him just the right 
lies to keep the media off of the things the UIU dealt with that the 
people couldn’t know about. But she gave him too much. He was 
close to figuring it out, and he needed to go. It was Kate's fault, so 
she had to do the honors. She served the Bureau well, so they'd set 
her up with a gig with a partner org out in the middle of nowhere. All 
she had to do was kill Greg lonnas and the UIU would fake her 
death and whisk her off to Florida, of all fucking places. They 
stepped out of the car in front of the warehouse, Greg with his 
camera around his neck. He thought he was here to take the photos 
that would make his career. 


Kate drew in a breath, closed her eyes, and rocked back on her 
heels. She felt her gun holstered to her hip. She exhaled. 


She led the man inside. 
. | “ | _ 
She exhaled. 


Kate walked up to Houghton and the kid, Ludovik, translating his 
questions. “We’re going back through, Houghton. Ludovik, we'll be 
back in three minutes. Keep everyone here.” She handed him the 
gun Solowski brought her. Miles from ideal, Kate. 


She brought her guys back through the hole and put her hand to her 
ear. “Consider this your go order.” 


< Fault Lines | DNM | Operation Cannery Row: Document 
2013§451A3 > 


Operation Cannery Row: Document 2013§451A3 


< Going Straight To Hell In A Lincoln Continental | DNM || Double E 
> 


OPERATION CANNERY ROW 


Keeping Our Friends Close, Whether They Like 
It Or Not 


As part of our continued effort to ensure our partners in 
SUSEOCT (Southern United States Extranormal 
Organization Cooperation Treaty) are maintaining 
integrity and the safety and security of the American 
populace are protected, the FBI's UIU maintains 
information regarding our operational partners in the 
extranormal containment sphere. Our efforts to monitor 
the SCP Foundation comprise Operation Cannery Row. 


The following documents were recovered from the body 
of Foundation Agent John "Jallit" O'June, found dead 
with severe burns and apparent stab wounds on January 
3, 2013 after a conflict with the Order of the Hyacinth in 
Cross City, Fla. O'June's remains were first discovered 
by a UIU agent embedded in the Dixie County Sheriff's 
Office. O'June's possessions and remains were returned 
to the SCP Foundation in accordance with SUSEOCT. 
Copies of available documents were retained, 
reproduced below. Few readable pages remain. 


"LMTF-352-7 Site Responsibility 
Overview" 


"Region 352-7 Hume Readings: 0700 
January 3, 2014" 


+ [TOP SECRET CLEARANCE AUTH REQUIRED] 


Original document, return to SCP 
Foundation pending clearance 


2 | is | ss 
< Going Straight To Hell In A Lincoln Continental | DNM| | Double E 


> 


| Double E 


< Operation Cannery Row: Document 2013§451A3 | DNM| The 
Hyacinth Hymnal > 


| am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. 
As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the 
daughters. 

- Song of Solomon 2:1-2 


Mackenzie put out her cigarette, the warm July air sticking to her 
skin. The smell of fresh rain and honeysuckle filled the air. She liked 
doing this with a bit of a buzz. Made it easier to not overthink. Kate 
was hanging back, only halfway out the door to the balcony. 
Mackenzie could tell she was nervous. 


“What do you Foundation people call it?” Mackenzie pulled the dried 
flower out of its cloth bag, one of the many supplies laid out on the 
wicker table. 


“Il-double-E. Intentional Extranormal Effort,” Kate said. She took a 
few tentative steps forward. 


“You guys are adorable, you know that? It’s just magic. It’s been 
around longer than your group or mine, and it'll be around long after 
both of ‘em are gone.” She tossed the box of long matches, 
underhand, to Kate, who caught them with both hands. “Light one.” 


Kate, hands shaking a bit, ran the matchhead futilely along the side 
of the box a couple of times. Mackenzie turned away. She closed 
one eye and spun the flower in her fingers in front of her face, 
aligning the stamens just right with the breeze, like her grandmother 
taught her. With her bright lipstick, natural hair close-cropped, and 
black boots, Mackenzie-Lee Crook was the opposite of the straight- 
laced Kate McTiriss, who even on her rare off days wore button-ups, 


blazers and slacks in the Florida summer heat. 


The first night she’d stayed over at Kate’s apartment, Mackenzie 
was unable to stop herself from storming out of the bathroom to 
chastise Kate for keeping her meager makeup collection in there. 
The humidity ruins the eyeshadow, has nobody ever told you that? 
Six months since that night, they were the picture of the uneasy 
détente the Foundation and Marshall, Carter and Dark had achieved 
in the American South. 


The two groups were figuring out how to coexist in a strange world. 
So were the two women standing in the humid air, facing the thick 
and tangled woods. The new Press Coordinator for the Foundation 
in North Florida handed the Tallahassee Governor's Club’s top 
auctioneer of anomalous objects a spluttering match. Mackenzie 
gave Kate a slight smile and a small nod, trying to reassure her. 
They both took a moment to breathe. She brought the match to the 
dried bluebell, and it caught in an instant. 


“So what are you doing now?” Kate bit one of the nails on her left 
hand, or what was left of a nail. A// nerves, that girl. 


Mackenzie held the flower stem as steady as possible as the smoke 
rose from it. “Finding the leyline.” Kate opened her mouth to ask 
what exactly that was, but was interrupted by the air above 
Mackenzie catching fire. From nothing, a narrow line of blazing 
flame, suspended in the air, sweet smoke pouring upwards into the 
night sky. Mackenzie jumped a bit with excitement. “Got it!” She 
turned to the table and put out the flower in the bowl of salted water. 
She made a quick sign of the cross and muttered a thankful prayer 
under her breath, and picked up her favorite knife, sliding out the 
blade. During all of this, Kate was staring up, awestruck, as the 
flames in the air settled into glowing lights, like a line of fireflies, 
shifting and pulsing. 


Mackenzie studied the shifting lights. “lI knew your place was 
special. Look at this, it’s uninterrupted! Beautiful.” 


“Yeah...” They both stared. Kate tore her gaze from the leyline and 
fixed her eyes on her partner. “What’s with the knife?” 


She smiled at the directness of the question. “There’s magic — bits 
and pieces of cracked reality. The things you contain, the things we 
sell. Those are concentrated. But the magic is everywhere in this 
part of the world. It’s like...blood. And these are the veins, running 
through everything. And you don’t harness it by waving a wand and 
saying some words. You make a cut to get at blood.” Mackenzie 
raised the point of the blade to the string of floating lights and, with 
one decisive motion, sliced downward and dropped the blade. Kate 
heard a sound like deep wind chimes echoing in the back of her 
mind. Her heart raced as — stardust, that’s the only way she could 
describe it, stardust poured from the wounded sky into Mackenzie’s 
cupped hand, thick like honey. 


The girl in the boots turned to the girl in the blazer, pure unreality 
shimmering in her hands. “Are you ready?” Mackenzie stepped up to 
her. “You can say no, it’s okay.” 


Kate’s heart was beating so loud she could hear it. The wind chimes 
were louder, too. But she wanted to see what the other side — the 
Everything Under Everything — what it looked like. What Mackenzie 
saw in her nightly prayers outside. Kate, wide-eyed, nodded. 


Mackenzie dipped two fingers into the pooled magic, letting the rest 
spill to the ground. She slid her fingers across her lips and they 
gleamed and crackled with power. They closed their eyes and 
leaned in. 


They kissed under the Florida moonlight, and Kate felt the world 
catch flame around her. 


< Operation Cannery Row: Document 2013§451A3 | DNM | The 
Hyacinth Hymnal > 


The Hyacinth Hymnal 


< | Double E | DNM| Seven Vignettes From The Life Of Mackenzie 
Lee-Crook > 


SCP Foundation Audio Database 

File 98A07 - Excerpts from the Hyacinth Hymnal, 2012- 
ce 

A shortwave radio broadcast believed to be sourced to 
the Order of the Hyacinth (Cross City, Fla.), operating 
since 1978 at the latest. While the station typically 
broadcasts only tones and numbers,! occasional songs, 
Biblical readings and conversations have been broadcast 
on the station. All broadcasts from 20 and 201 
consistently featured one voice, Person of 
Interest-35223. POI-35223 has not been identified, and 
the station has not broadcast since the final excerpt 
presented here. 


Download file. 


Transcript 


Excerpt 1 - "Daffodils Yellow And 
Hyacinths Blue" (0:00-0:56) 


A hymn of unknown composition. 


POI-35233: You ready? 


Bass guitar and slide guitar are played. POI-35233 and l 


POI-35233 and UNKNOWN: 
Daffodils yellow and hyacinths blue 
Good Lord, good Lord, I’m coming home to you 
Balance me, fellow, with innocence true 
Good Lord, good Lord, I’m coming home to you 


It has not been an easy ride, born on the shore 
Good Lord, good Lord, show me that white door 
And if my spirit doth misguide, I am not done for 
Good Lord, good Lord, show me that white door 


Daffodils yellow and hyacinths blue 

Good Lord, good Lord, I’m coming home to you 
Balance me, fellow, with innocence true 

Good Lord, good Lord, I’m coming home to you 


Excerpt 2 - "Lord, You Have Come To The 
Lakeshore" (0:58-2:20) 


Takes many lines from a hymn by Cesareo Gabarain, though the 
music shares no resemblance. 


A fiddle is played. POI-35233 sings. 
POI-35233: 
Lord, you have come to the lakeshore 
Looking neither for wealthy nor wise ones 


You only asked me to follow humbly. 


[UNINTELLIGIBLE] 


Lord, with your eyes you have searched me, 
Kindly smiling, have spoken my name 

Now my boat's left on the shoreline behind me; 
By your side I will seek other seas 


You know so well my possessions 


began invading National Wildlife Preserve, threatening 
several instances of both endangered plants and animals. The EPA 
refused to hinder the spread of SCP-621, despite the existential risk 
to plants and animals, on the grounds that it would have made the 
National Wildlife Preserve more aesthetically pleasing. 


Although Didier’s tulips (Tulipa gesneriana) are the most common 
type of SCP-621, there also exist species of SCP-621 that include 
other types of tulips, roses (Rosa spp.), and a few instances of 
lettuce (Lactuca spp.) as a result of cross-pollination. However, no 
D-Class personnel could bring themselves to eat SCP-621, worried 
about possible side-effects. When force-fed, SCP-621 induces 
intense anxiety and paranoia on the subject, but no other side- 
effects. This anxiety dissipates upon digestion. This effect has been 
seen on multiple test subjects. 


Addendum 621-1: In light of the recent events involving Dr. Z 
hoarding several instances of SCP-621 in his personal office, all 
personnel on Site 16 are allowed to keep at least one instance of 
SCP-621 in their offices. 


Addendum 621-2: In light of Dr. Z ’s public apology for 
hoarding several instances of SCP-621 in his personal office, 
personnel are no longer allowed to keep any instances of SCP-621 
in their offices. 


Note: To everyone asking me to ask the administration to release 
SCP-621 to the public: this is the very reason we're keeping 
SCP-621 here. | don't care if it looks cool or if | had a few in my 
office for a while. | know first-hand that this thing has some kind of 
hypnotizing effect on people, and something is telling me this plant 
has possibly evolved for that very purpose. If our own government 
agencies won't stop these things, we will. -Dr. Z 


« SCP-620 | SCP-621 | SCP-622 » 


My boat carries no gold and no weapons 
But nets and fishes -—- my daily labor 
You need my hands, full of caring 


Through my labors to give others rest, 
And constant love that keeps on loving 
You, who have fished other oceans 

Ever longed-for by souls who are waiting 


My loving friend, as thus you call me. 


Excerpt 3 - Reading of Micah 7:1-7 (2:22- 
3:22) 


A fiddle is played. POI-35233 speaks. 


POI-35233: 
Woe is me! for I am as when they have gathered the sx 
fruits, as the grapegleanings of the vintage: there 
cluster to eat: my soul desired the firstripe fruit. 


The good man is perished out of the earth: and there 
upright among men: they all lie in wait for blood; t 
every man his brother with a net. 


That they may do evil with both hands earnestly, the 
asketh, and the judge asketh for a reward; and the ¢ 
he uttereth his mischievous desire: so they wrap it 


The best of them is as a brier: the most upright is 
than a thorn hedge: the day of thy watchmen and thy 
cometh; now shall be their perplexity. 


Trust ye not in a friend, put ye not confidence in é 
keep the doors of thy mouth from her that lieth in t 


For the son dishonoureth the father, the daughter ri 
against her mother, the daughter in law against her 


law; a man's enemies are the men of his own house. 


Therefore I will look unto the LORD; I will wait for 
of my salvation: my God will hear me. 


Excerpt 4 - "Here And Heaven" (3:30-4:59) 


Written by bluegrass artist Chris Thile in 2011. 


A banjo is played. POI-35233 and UNKNOWN sing. 


POI-35233 and UNKNOWN: 
With a hammer and nails and a fear of failure we 
are building a shed 
Between here and heaven between the wait and the 
wedding for as long as we both shall be dead 
to the world beyond the boys and the girls trying 
to keep us calm 
We can practice our lines 'til we're deaf and blind 
to ourselves to each other where it's 


Fall not winter spring not summer cool not cold 
And it's warm not hot have we all forgotten that 
we're getting old 


With an arrow and bow and some seeds left to sow 

we are staking our claim 

On ground so fertile we forget who we've hurt along 
the way and reach out for a strange hand 

to hold someone strong but not bold enough to 

tear down the wall 

"Cause we ain't lost enough to find the stars ain't 
crossed why align them why fall hard 

not soft into 


Fall not winter spring not summer cool not cold 
Where it's warm not hot has everyone forgotten that 
we're getting old 


Excerpt 5 - Reading of Psalm 40 (5:02-— 
6:58) 


POI-35233 speaks. Periodic gunshots are heard. 


POI-35233: 
I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unt 
heard my cry. 


He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of 
clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established n 


And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise 
God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust ir 


Blessed is that man that maketh the Lord his trust, 
respecteth not the proud, nor such as turn aside to 


Many, O Lord my God, are thy wonderful works which t 
done, and thy thoughts which are to us-ward: they cé 
reckoned up in order unto thee: if I would declare é& 
of them, they are more than can be numbered. 


Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire; mine « 
thou opened: burnt offering and sin offering hast tf 
required. 


Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book ij 
written of me, 


I delight to do thy will, O my God: yea, thy law is 
heart. 


I have preached righteousness in the great congregat 
have not refrained my lips, O Lord, thou knowest. 


I have not hid thy righteousness within my heart; I 
declared thy faithfulness and thy salvation: I have 


concealed thy lovingkindness and thy truth from the 
congregation. 


Withhold not thou thy tender mercies from me, O Lorc 
lovingkindness and thy truth continually preserve me