What was she advertising again? 
An app, that was it. 
And it was about... 


“Safety awareness. Suicide.” Kit mumbled, not sure if he wasn’t 
aware of the middle aged woman staring at the man talking to 
himself or if she was even actually there at all. 


The graffiti was rumoured to be haunted. People swore up and 
down, left and right, port and starboard, that the advert had only 


caused a spike in suicides amongst young people. Kit may have 
believed that once, because rumours are rumours are rumours are 
rumours are — 


What was he thinking about again? 
Right. 


Kit may have believed that once, but now he had seen things and 
felt things and fucked things that no-one else knew of — amazingly 
beautiful things, indescribable horrors he scribbled in notebooks with 
his heart racing and his breath short, things that were meant to be 
mundane but spoke and looked and stared at him. 


Kit wondered what it would be like to touch the tattoos on the girl’s 
neck. Being eyes, they would most likely blink, and he would feel the 
soft folds of their eyeshadow-coated eyelids. He marvelled about the 
things this girl must have seen, with eyes in the back of her head. 


Pulling his hood over his head, he stalked out of the bus station the 
very second his bus to a new life appeared. He dismissively 
crumpled his ticket in his hand and took a last puff on his cigarette 
before flicking the butt into a nearby drain. Wait. He hadn’t smoked 
in nearly five years. He had just flicked his vaporizer into the void. 
Fuck, not again. He took a breath of clean air, then continued to 
walk the direction he had seen the girl go. 


His thoughts distracted again, as they often did, to the app that was 
supposed to save lives. Maybe people relied too heavily upon it. In 
times where you can get an app that pipes music into your brain and 
pre-orders your coffee, maybe people believed a click of a button 
would stanch bleeding or place a chair under struggling feet. Maybe 
people still need people after all, and maybe his self-imposed 
isolation would cause his own death. Maybe no-one needed anyone, 
and humankind had to let go of the idea of love and lust and trust 
and — 


He was tired again. He felt like the z-drugs in his system which 
granted him a few hours respite a night was still buzzing around 
there, despite the coffee he had downed at the bus station cafe. It 
was easier to blame the drugs, even the legal ones, for everything 


that went wrong. It was harder to blame his own brain and feet for 
causing him to walk seven kilometres out of his way in pursuit of a 
girl he had seen once. A girl who, when he spotted her a second 
time around quarter of the way into his journey, had burst into many 
different coloured butterflies and flown away into the sky. 


Since he had accepted this fact, he had just been walking. His mind 
rambled and his stomach was hollow, but the butterflies would 
eventually have to land and reform themselves into the girl. Then he 
could touch her eyes — the tattoo, not the real ones, he reminded 
himself — and he would feel peace in his own system. 

But he was so weary. He felt an ache down to his very bones and 
suddenly missed his future home where he knew there would be 
pills and drinks waiting. The sky was already darkening, and he was 
miles away from anything he knew, but that rarely troubled him. 


No-one was waiting on the other side, after all. 


Kit flopped onto a drizzly rain-coated bench. He stared at the sky 
with the heaviness of more impending rain, and realised it smelt of 
cinder, perfuming everything around him. 


Kit rolled onto his side and stared at the grass, curling long legs 
under himself so he fit neatly on the bench. 


And then, Kit slept. 


« Hub |Kit's Bloomin’ Adventure » 


An FAQ; Or, What The Hell Is A Hume? 


Q: So what the hell is a Hume? 


A: A good question! A Hume is a way to determine the strength and/ 
or amount of reality in a given area. Now, you may have issues with 
reality being measured this way, and it's certainly a hard concept to 
grasp. One of the better analogies that can be used to explain this 
works like this: picture that everything in the universe is covered with 
a thin layer of sand. This is the baseline level of reality-one Hume. 
When some of the sand is removed, by any means, there is less 
sand around, and the level of reality has dropped. When sand is 
added, there is more reality around. Now, this explanation is highly 
simplistic, but it helps introduce the concept and gives a nice visual 
representation. So, using this analogy, Humes just measure the 
amount of sand in an area. Clear? 


Q: But how do we define these things? What are they in relation 
to? 


Another good question! Every measurement has got to be defined in 
relation to something, and so we devised a way to create a Hume 
baseline. We created two pocket realities that each contain Scranton 
Reality Anchors that maintain the Hume levels at an arbitrarily high 
and low level. These levels have been designated 100 and 0, 
respectively. It is from these pocket universes that Hume 
measurements arise. 


Q: So how are Humes measured? 


A: Via the Kant counter! A Kant counter consists of two portals to the 
pocket universes discussed above. Using these as a baseline, the 
Hume level of a localized area can be measured. 


Q: Brilliant! Where's your Nobel? 


A: As per Foundation policy, outside sharing/recognition of work is 


impossible. But fear not! We've been compensated more than 
adequately, and, in addition, we recently got a very favorable Ethics 
Committee ruling authorizing a mission to speed the progress of 
outside researchers on the same track as us; meaning that Humes 
may be present in the world in as little as a few years! 


Q: How can Humes help me? 


A: If you work with lots of reality benders or reality-bending-based 
SCPs, you're in luck! 


First off, reality benders. These people have a twofer effect on 
reality. Firstly, reality surrounding them is usually slightly less real 
than normal. Secondly, their own personal Hume reading is usually 
a little higher than is normal. The magnitude of the first and second 
are, of course, related to the relative power of the bender in 
question. Usually, a low-level reality bender runs at about 
75-80/130-150 (Hume level of surrounding area/Hume level of 
individual; this will be used for all future examples.) Especially in the 
case of low-level benders, extreme discretion must be used to avoid 
a false positive on reality benders, as these readings can fluctuate in 
vanilla humans. For more information, see this lecture on reality 
benders. It's a huge help. Powerful reality benders, however, usually 
run at about 40</>300, indicating a large ability to shape reality. Of 
note is SCP-343. Unlike all other reality benders, it does not exert 
any influence whatsoever on outside reality. However, its internal 
Hume reading is astronomically high, registering at an average of 
860 Humes (averaged across seven different tests; more ongoing.) 
This indicates many things, all of which are being heatedly debated 
by the researchers studying SCP-343. Finally, take the case of 
SCP-239. Unlike many powerful reality benders, where area of 
effect, internal, and external Hume readings all are quite large, 
SCP-239 has an unusual twist. Her area of effect is quite low; only 
extending to her line of sight and/or imagination (which, while 
seemingly giving her an infinite area of effect, is really only limited to 
what she can actually imagine, and thus can be generally ruled out 
with proper containment.) However, her readings are 30/500, 
granting her a nearly unlimited ability to shape her local reality as 
she sees fit. As in the case of 343, the meaning, cause, and 
containment procedures for this are being debated extensively. 


Humes can also be applied to non-human anomalies. For instance, 
take SCP-2464. The Hume measurement inside both the anomaly 
as well as SCP-2464-2 have unequivocally confirmed the hypothesis 
regarding the anomaly, (see the addendum for more information,) 
allowing for more effective containment. As another case, take 
SCP-668. This tool perpetually raises the Hume readings within a 
meter or so of it by approximately twenty Humes when not active. 
When active, the Hume level rises to astronomical (>670 Hm) levels 
across all measuring Kant counters, and it is theorized that this 
effect extends across all known space. Following this realization, 1) 
more effective containment for SCP-668 was put in place, and 2) 
immediate monitoring of all Kant counters commenced in order to 
serve as a warning system for the existence of any more anomalies 
in the same fashion. Finally, take the example of SCP-2000. To 
facilitate containment, Scranton Reality Anchors were constructed 
and deployed. Prior to this, it was not known how or why Reality 
Anchors operate. Now, we know both how the Anchors work (by 
keeping local reality at a constant 20 Hm) and why they work (in 
keeping with the sand metaphor, it works like this: they drain sand 
from different, nonessential universes to keep the supply of sand in 
ours steady. It's nothing like that, but the metaphor roughly holds). 


Q: Last, but certainly not least, who are you two? 
A: Doctors James Caldmann and Carlos Rzewski. 


Questions? Confusion? Accusations? Come to FAQ 2, the 
Electric Boogaloo, where all your Hume-related questions will 
be answered! 


Anderson the Alternative 


"So, uh, we all know what our little firm now faces," Vincent 
Anderson looked around, noting the reaction of the other four most 
important members of Anderson Robotics. "Our facilities raided, 
our staff attacked, our customers apprehended. We don't have 
enough resources to defend ourselves, and um, the Foundation 
won't stop until all our products are in their hands. We won't be able 
to go on like this, and | would like to make a proposal." 


"No," Phineas immediately cut him off. "We've talked about this 
before, Vincent. I'm not going to let you sell our years of hard work 
to some... rich businessmen who see nothing but profit in our 
efforts. If we're subjected to their rules, our inspirations, our 
innovations, and our originalities will all be lost." 


"Yes, and I've thought about that, Phineas," Anderson turned to the 
old man, nodding slightly. "We are always going to be raided, and 
um, some of our products will be snatched from our customers. 
Receiving funding from MC&D can give us the power to counter 
those, but only temporarily. It doesn't fix the problem from the 
source. So as | really think about it, there is only one logical and 
permanent solution." 


The four's gaze followed as Anderson stood up, moving to one of 
screens in the meeting room. "If the Foundation really wants our 
little gadgets, we're going to cut out the, um, 'middle man’ here, 
which is the being raided part," He chuckled slightly at the joke, and 
made the announcement. "We will be directly funded by the 
Foundation." 


Jason choked on his drink. Jeffery froze, and Medea just stared at 
him blankly. 


"Wait, what?" Phineas said. 


Anderson turned on the device. After a few moments, the screen 


flashed on, and a blue figure appeared. 


"Hello," the computer vocalized. "I'm Alexandra, your Foundation 
liaison. It's nice meeting you!" 


"What do you mean ‘you didn't actually think this was going to 
happen'?" Director Holman stared at their "Robotics Specialist", a 
few veins visible on his forehead. Next to him, Assistant Director 
Merlo gave a resentful look. 


"Well, | didn't actually expect that the ghosts of the droids would 
linger due to their hatred towards the tasks the Foundation put them 
through?" Vincent Anderson replied, forcing a smile. 


"And let me remind you that you're part of the Foundation, 
Anderson," Holman tapped on the table. "And this is because of the 
brain mapping tech? Their souls are now trapped there? So how 
come | was not informed about this in the first place?" 


"| did mention it, in the reports. Just that | didn't really, um, highlight 
that part." 


Holman looked like he was holding back a curse. After a few 
moments, he signed. "You're dismissed, Anderson. Back to your 
department, | believe any further instructions on what to do with... 
SCP-3560 will be filed to your place directly." 


Anderson nodded, and exited the Site Director's office as Merlo shut 
the door on him. He stood there for a second, and let out a 
modulated breath. He then took out his silver comedy mask from his 
person. Putting it on, he once again noted how much he hated the 
dress codes. 


As he walked through the facility, a team of MTF agents rushed 
past, no doubt to deal with the mess he had created. They were led 
by Commander Shaw, who appropriately gave him a middle finger. 
Anderson returned the greeting with a nod. 


After a short walk and one elevator ride, Anderson was standing in 
front on the Special Robotics Department of Site-64. A familiar 
falcon logo was branded on to the door, right inside a Foundation 
department shield. He pressed his palm into the security scanner 
and allowed the door to slide open. 


The common room was unusually empty and quiet, occupied by only 
two individuals — Hector and Researcher Conwell, who were playing 
a game of chess. Anderson already expected that most robots 
would be called back temporarily in light of the incident, and staff 
likewise interviewed. The two were probably left here in case of 
emergency. 


As Anderson walked pass, the Peregrine bot looked up to greet him, 
while Conwell was too engrossed in the game and the music playing 
in his earphones to even notice. 


Several more similarly empty development and management offices 
later, Anderson reached his own office. As he finally settled, he took 
out his standard Foundation-issued pad and checked his feed. 
Unsurprisingly, it was bombarded with reports and complaints 
regarding the appearance of SCP-3560, a hell on earth for his 
beloved robots only. He also was in for a small chat with an 
Overseer within the week. Meanwhile, on the intranet's small social 
media, "#RoboLimbo" had become a trending topic, which he really 
didn't care to read the specifics about. Anderson decided against 
logging in any of the chat rooms, and spent the next five minutes 
sinking into the comfort of his chair and staring at the ceiling. 


Eventually, his eyes settled on a framed photo of him, Phineas, 
Jeffery, Medea, and Jason standing together, each with a genuine 
smile. It was Anderson Robotics' official opening day, and they joked 
about being pushed to bankruptcy within the first week as none of 
them knew anything about running a business. 


Money, however, was no longer a concern as the mighty Foundation 
machine worked its magic. Their tech was valuable enough, so they 
were given much freedom to create as they wished; the only 
drawback was the endless arguments with Ethics Committee about 
robot rights. Yet, only he and Jeffery were still stationed at Site-64. 
Jason jumped at the opportunity to be transferred to bigger and 


more prominent sites, and Medea with him. His little firm was pretty 
much disbanded, taken away piece by piece, and without him 
noticing, intergrated into the Foundation. And as for Phineas... 


As his thoughts drifted, Anderson closed his eyes and put himself in 
sleep mode. 


"Mr. Anderson~ Rise and shine!" A sweet albeit slightly mechanical 
voice rang out in his audio receptors, and Anderson snapped back 
from the dreamless false sleep. He was greeted by a blue-skinned 
woman with long blue hair. 


"Alex," He said as the cameras serving as his eyes refocused.