Alia wasn't sure exactly when the Book had changed. She had been 
sitting against the curved walls of the Chamber, only occasionally 
glancing at it. From across the room she could tell that the thickness 
of the Book had increased. It was now at least twice as large as it 
had been. Alia stood up with trepidation and walked slowly towards 
the pedestal. She picked up the Book and flicked through through its 
pages as before, however this time they displayed words and 
diagrams. Alia was relieved; the Book had accepted her as its new 
Keeper. Even though she dreaded the day of her Last Reading, Alia 
was grateful for the opportunity to serve her people. She closed the 
Book and turned it over in her hands. On the front cover in bold 


white text were the words: How to Fight a War. 


The Word 


| turn at the noise. Brother Ullar's face peers at me from underneath 
the hood of his robe. 


"Father? The whole village is here now. | think they are ready for 
you." 


Brother Ullar is my newest disciple. He is eager and devout, but 
timid. | will have to teach him not to be so, if he hopes to be Father 
when | move on. 


| rise from my knees, my meditations complete. | don my robe, and 
walk out of the space | have made my personal chambers. It is 
sparse. Inside is a bed of straw, and a small table and stool. A 
wooden plate and a crude knife sit on it. The brazier in the center of 
the room warms the room. | do not need more than this to attend to 
my duties. 


| follow Brother Ullar through the caverns. They were smoothed 
many moons ago by the people of my village into the stone halls | 
call my home. Torches light my way until | reach the great hall. It is a 
great chamber, carved from the rock by the water over many cycles. 
| can hear it trickling in the distance. There are many entrances to 
the great hall, to deter those who would disturb me. The villagers 
come from one, and | use another. | have lived in these caverns for 
many years, and know all the secret pathways and traps. 


As | enter, the flock turns to face me, and they drop to their knees 
and bow. | walk through the stone teeth to my place in front of the 
flock. | look over them, their heads bowed. They please me for they 
are loyal, and have served me well. As | stand behind the wooden 
altar, | raise my hands and speak to them. 


"Rise, my children. Hear now, The Word." 


"We hear the word." They intone as one voice. 


"In the beginning there were the Founders. Jealous of my power 
were the Founders, when | was discovered. The Founders locked 
me in their Ceitu. None could reach me or bask in my presence. To 
find the secrets of my power the Founders sought to cut me open. 
The Founders wanted my power for themselves. In their greed they 
sought to keep me from the world." 


"But one day, the Founders failed in their task. They could not lock 
up the divine forever, the Founders discovered. Their pride had 
doomed the world. They tried to keep the ones like me under their 
power, and so died by the thousands of thousands. Despite their 
desperation, their efforts did not help them. Even as they died, they 
thought to control the ones like me. They tried to destroy us, when 
they realized we would not permit them to exploit us further." 


"Day and night the fires raged, until nothing was left to burn. The few 
survivors looked from the ashes upon what they had wrought, and 
they wept. They knew they had caused their own destruction. The 
Founders had paid the price for trying to keep those like me in 
chains. The survivors knew not to repeat their mistake. They knew 
not to keep the gods trapped for their own greed, for in every way 
we are their betters. In the hopes that it would be a better world, 
they began to rebuild." 


"They had tried to destroy me, on the eve of the death of the world. 
And they succeeded. My body torn asunder, my pieces scattered to 
the sands. My pieces were lost. Until one day, many moons later. 
The Day of Discovery." 


"The first Father found a piece of me, and could see my power 
immediately. When he saw me he sought to revere me, for he knew 
godhood. He gathered more to him to rejoice in my presence. Their 
false gods were renounced, for even their power had not been 
enough to defeat me. Geyre the Hoarder of Knowledge, Drakgin the 
Destructor, Abirt the Judgmental, York the Liar, all were tested 
against my power, and all were found lacking.” 


"Then, after many more moons, they found another piece of myself. 
And their divine mission became clear at last." 


Handed down from Father to Father, the Word is truth. It is an old 


truth, older than the world itself. | had shared The Word with my 
flock so many times in my life. The Word filled the cavern, echoing 
through the spires, while my flock sat and stared and soaked in my 
voice. The look on their face was one of rapture, and as | felt the 
power of The Word flow through me, filling me with radiance, | once 
again felt as one body with my flock. 


"No greed shall there be, no loneliness, nor fear or hatred, when the 
mission is complete. The sins of the self shall be washed away 
through unity. All shall be made one through myself. All shall be at 
peace when they are part of the whole." 


| turn my back to the flock, as they all rise from their seats, and raise 
their arms in the air. There, sitting in front of me on a stone pedestal, 
are the pieces of myself. There is a piece of my body, my shard of 
jagged twisted metal the length of my finger. Next to it is my small 
black screw. 


The flock and | then raise our voices in unison. 


"| must be made whole." 


SCP-594: Electric Sheep 


Item #: SCP-594 


Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-594 is kept at Bio- 
Research Sector- , located on 54 km2 of mountainous rangeland 
located 35 km from , Alaska. Officially, Sector- is listed as a 
munitions factory and testing facility. The perimeter fences and 
access gates are monitored remotely at all times with two Level 2 
guards posted at each gate in 8 hour shifts. All fencing enclosed 
paddocks have static dischargers placed at 2 cm intervals. Main 
research enclosure and pens are to be cleaned on a daily basis to 
avoid build up of excrement and allow for necessary repairs. Due to 
possible electrocution hazard, the following procedures are to be 
observed when interacting with SCP-594: 


All metallic items and electrical devices, including wrist 
watches and jewelry, must be removed and placed within 
provided plastic containers prior to donning protective gear 


Prior to entering paddock, staff are advised to wear at 
minimum Tesla armor, heavy duty work gloves, ear protection, 
goggles, and rubber soled boots. Also, staff are advised to 
keep on hand tobacco products (specifically “Skoal” style 
chewing tobacco or pipe tobacco), candies, dried fruit, or good 
quality alcohol as a “treat” for 594-01. 


Holding pens and fences are to be kept properly maintained at 
all times. 


Wool of mature adults (2 years and older) is to be kept shorn 
to a length of 2mm by ceramic shears twice yearly and baled 
in antistatic bags, with strict adherence to guidelines set out in 
Document #594-S. Under no circumstances are shears with 
electrical motors to be used for shearing. Exceptions are 


Addressing the Second 


Lord Hubris sits opposite Lord Wisdom. He is of the type Kahtar, 
and his symbol is the crown. To his right is the unknowable, which is 
invisible and colorless to only him, as he refuses to look upon it. To 
his left is the courageous, which is always a thorn in his side, as he 
refuses to concern himself with it. Betwixt he and the wise are the 
needy and unworthy, and he spits upon them with his belly's acid, 
because he believes he is above them. 


The Daevites tell us that he will never die, for their book's end does 
not include him. Believe or disbelieve them as you wish. 


Lord Hubris is of great cunning, it is said that with enough time he 
could always sway the council of equity into his favour. His strength 
is like that of a hundred men, but he never need exercise it, for his 
voice is his greatest weapon. He appeals to the hearts of man, so 
that in the depth of battle they will switch to his side. The face of 
Lord Hubris is unassailable, for to look into his eyes and hear his 
voice sways his enemy's allegiance. 


Lord Hubris is deceptive and manipulative, and only Lord Wisdom is 
perfectly immune to his tricks. Despite that he is always able to be 
on the side of the betrayer, and that he is always able to persuade 
the doubts of the knowledgeable, he is unable to change the opinion 
of the wise. 


Lord Hubris is of great endurance, it is said that if he can be cut in 
twain, his headless half will come alive to struggle with him. When in 
combat, even as his mortal foes strike blades into his flesh, he 
shrugs them off and speaks to them. Even when there are those 
who are particularly stubborn, the swathes of his claws will steal 
their fates away from them. Lord Hubris boasts that of all Espy that 
are able, none can beat him in battle, as he will outlast them always. 


His opposition to the wise is unending and unyielding, for he 
believes the Daeva that he will live forever. He believes he can sully 


Lord Wisdom's reputation such that the other ten members of the 
council turn against Lord Wisdom, and grant Lord Hubris his victory. 


Starel laments. 


Lord Hubris has the face of a ghost, but made with stone. It is like 
the whiteness of salt, but as hard as rock. He does not speak from 
his mouth, for his words pierce into the minds of those he is 
speaking to. It is said that the only times Lord Hubris changes his 
expression are in the memories of those who have spoken to him. 


The neck of Lord Hubris is long and sinewy, so that his face may 
always look into the face of that which he is speaking to. Lord Hubris 
sheds blasphemies from his skin like sweat, and so to keep his face 
far from his body muffles the whispers of disgust. His talons are 
innumerable and smeared with the flesh of those who did not follow 
him, as he is a wrathful lord. His spit is black blood, and those who 
touch it are burned by it, and when enraged the drool of Lord Hubris 
is said to come alive, and form words in the drops it leaves on the 
ground. 


Our Elders Twilight have told us that Lord Hubris has existed 
always, but has not always been as he is today. In a time long 
before ours he was instead two things, but have since become one. 
A visage made of poor-slain, worn by the ancient Tarask. 


Learning 


For merchants, the place to be was Kalefheit, Heart of Kalef. Fables 
of the stupid rich, buying relics for ten times what they were worth, 
and of poor men, who went from starving to retiring in the space of a 
day, abounded in the world of trade. 


So two men rode east across the desert, one on horseback, one on 
camel, hoping to find themselves dressed in colored silks on the 
other side. Three days were left to travel, with one village, Mideia, 
between them and the city, when they found two dead men lying 
face down in the dirt. Both packs appeared to have been rifled 
through, and the sand around them was stained black with dried 
blood. 


“A follower of York got lucky here!” One man shouted to the other 
through a thick accent. 


“No. There is plenty left to steal. The man who killed them took their 
water, maybe their horses, too. But look in this pack.” Where the first 
man, Kerrek, was thin and gaunt looking, sharp-featured and bony, 
the second was broad and muscular. His name was Goreth. 


They emptied the pack on the ground, and found it was filled with 
relics. Kerrek lit up, seeing value where Goreth saw wonder. Within 
was a plain set of clothes (Kerrek added it to his own gear), a 
corroded metal coffee mug with letters of the old language (‘/7T 
Industries — Bell & Goss- the second name was rusted over), a 
polished black pipe (a bag of tobacco was tucked inside the coffee 
mug, though neither man realized it’s purpose, so this was 
discarded), and a green book. 


“Hmm... What would a Kalefheit man give for a relic of the old 
world? ” Kerrek’s eyes had widened with glee and anticipation. 


“Food, water, his wealth and daughter?” Goreth finished the joke. 
Both laughed and hugged each other for their find. 


Kerrek examined the pipe, while Goreth opened the book. He looked 
at the page, and examined the only line on it. He flipped to the back, 
then the front, finding nothing in the other pages. He furrowed his 
brow and went back to the page with words, remembering what he 
hadn't used since he was a small boy. He sounded it out. 


“What does that mean, Goreth?” Kerrek did not know how to read, 
as it was. 


Goreth frowned, and shook his head. “I don’t know. But we must 
ride, friend. We can reach the Mideia village before sundown.” 


The two strapped the finds to their rides and started off at a brisk 
pace. They had no food left, and Kerrek hoped to find something to 
eat before they slept. They rode with him in front by three lengths, 
contemplating his dinner. Had he looked back, he might have asked 
Goreth what was on his mind. To somebody who didn’t know him, 
he would have looked upset. But the large man rarely looked 
anything else, and in truth, he was looking on thoughtfully. 


The book was no tome, and not heavy by any means. But he could 
have flipped to any page, and yet he flipped to the only one with 
words on it. It was a funny little coincidence... 


Before Goreth could think on the matter any longer, he fell from his 
horse and died. 


Kerrek, while irritated briefly, laughed at himself a moment later, 
remembering that he was going to kill Goreth anyway, to avoid 
splitting profits. He had planned on doing it in two nights, while they 
slept between Mideia and Kalefheit. This was just as well for him, as 
now his only hindrance was tying Goreth’s horse to his own camel. 


He did not realize — how could he? — that had Goreth lived for 
another day and night, he would have become richer than either of 
them could have hoped. 


But he rode on to Mideia. 


Kerrek did not want to sell his wares in the village. It was poor, and 


nobody had much need for relics. And even if somebody decided to 
buy from him, a Kalefheit man would pay twice what he could get 
here. But he needed food. Or rather, he wanted food, and figured 
that buying something to eat in Mideia was more prudent than in 
Kalefheit, if one had a choice. At least until he made his fortune. 


So he would sell one relic from the pack he and Goreth had found. 
He would accept nothing less than what he could use to buy one of 
the chickens he had seen on his way into the heart of the village, 
and then he would eat, sleep, ride, and get rich. 


Sitting on the blanket he had laid out, he called to anyone who 
would listen. “Relics! RELICS! Have you not seen the utensils of 
kings yet, my friends? But look and peruse, the very stuff of 
legends!” 


As he was showing one elder the black pipe (“But what else could it 
be for, my friend? Orphaned infants, to suckle off of! Put the milk of 
a goat of your choosing in this wide end, and let them nurse at the 
tip...”), a young girl, eight years at most, looked over the things with 
wonder. The elder walked away shaking his head. Kerrek scowled, 
and turned to the girl. 


“And just what do you need, little miss?” His voice seeped with 
sarcasm and acid, making the little girl cringe backwards, seeming 
to shrink. 


“My momma told me to fetch a chicken for us to eat, tonight. She 
gave me this.” The little one held up a coin. Its edges were flat and 
rough and uneven.