Agatha Rights came home that evening to thank and pay the 
babysitter. She fed herself, then her daughter. Wiped spit-up from 
her baby's tiny mouth and held the small hands in hers. 


She kept company with the stars as they both watched over her 
sleeping daughter. The baby had managed to roll over onto its side 
and, fora moment, she was tempted to leave the infant like that and 
risk suffocation. She thought on possibility of Sudden Infant Death 
Syndrome. It was less likely to occur in females than males, less 
likely in non-smoking homes than smoking ones... 


Agatha realized then that she felt nothing at the thought of SIDS. No 
violent, maternal twist in her belly. No surge of grief in her throat. 
She turned the baby onto its back, then turned herself away. 


Doctor Agatha Rights wept, softly, so that she didn't wake her child. 
She prayed that the world was right— that all the love and worry of 
motherhood would bloom in her mind like her daughter had swelled 
up her abdomen, as easy as anyone had known in Site-19. 


Years later, Dr. Rights watches her beautiful daughter run to her first 
day of preschool, a lavender plastic backpack jingling with stationery 
against the 10 AM sunrise. The daughter doesn't look back at her. 
Agatha watches the other parents, observing worry and joy and 
pride and fear on a dozen strange faces. Internally, she is merely 
relieved she can focus on her work, her home and her family in 
Site-19. 


Agatha realizes then that she may never love her daughter in the 
same way as the other parents do their children. But there is 
Ophelia, waving to her from the glass door entrance. She waves 
back and chooses to hope 

that she is enough, 


despite her deficiency. 


The Slow Asphyxiation Of Undiluted Ardor 


There was nothing in this room but love for the little lizard. Barely 
twenty-five centimeters long, the twenty-five square meters of 
enclosure provided was a barren wasteland of love and affection. 


It had gotten used to sleeping out in the open, with nothing but love 
to hide under and keep shelter. It curled up in the felt lining of its 
enclosure and dreamed of sand and warmth. 


The room was filled with love when the lizard awakened. Love could 
not warm a room, and so the lizard who dreamed of hot desert sand 
awoke sluggish and cold. There was no sun to bask in, no heated 
pad underneath or lamp above. It dragged itself along the ground, 
against the walls, bumping its nose against the door that promised 
freedom away from this love-filled room. 


A camera recorded the crawling movements to upload the footage to 
YouTube. Such a beloved little lizard was quick to receive attention 
in a medium it could not even comprehend. None of the affectionate 
comments or likes would ever be recieved. 


It crawled away and, with nothing else left to do, curled up in the felt 
lining of its enclosure and dreamed of the crunch of insects against 
its teeth. 


A human interrupted the dreams as it stomped into the room, 
sporting a white coat and a heart filled with love. The human 
kneeled down and produced a high pitched cry of affection as the 
lizard dragged itself to the human's outstretched hands. It knew 
those hands were its only source of warmth in this wasteland filled 
with love. 


A passing memory came upon the lizard as it managed to barely lift 


its head upon the warm fingers. Similar hands long ago, dropping 
mealworms and crickets fat with nutrition into its sandy home of 
invisible walls and warmth. The lizard flickered its pink tongue 
across the fingers before it now, hoping to taste even a trace of 
those days. It tasted nothing but love as it was scooped up and 
pressed up against a face twice its size as the human cooed, 
charmed by its little lizard "kiss". 


The little lizard curled up in those warm hands, the words of love 
spoken by the human going unacknowledged. 


Once, a Kinder person arrived in the lizard's room of love. He 
cradled the lizard in his hands in silence. There were no words of 
love or affection. He could do nothing to fix anything here; the plot 
had already been written and the creature's fate had already been 
woven in. In one last act of Kindness, he allowed the lizard a long, 
long sleep. 


It dreamed of its days before being bought by less kind, but more 
loving humans. The sand was warm. The water was cool and fresh. 
The insects were plentiful and its tail was fat with storage for leaner 
times. There were places to burrow and places to climb. There was 
no love. 


It woke one last time, prodded out of its dream with the affectionate 
fingers of a human in a lab coat. 

"Now, who's a good ickle lizard?" 

The creature in question leaned into those fingers weakly. 

"That's right! You are! Yes you are!" 


Tried to close its eyes and go back to sleep. The pain in its empty 
belly hurt too much. 


"Do you want to go play? Do you want to go play? Does the ickle 
lizard want to go play?" 


It lifted its head to the hand, opening its mouth in memory of being 


able to reach up and grab dangling food. 
"D-085, come look! He's smiling at me!" 
There was nothing to grab here but love. 
"Is he not just the cutest lizard D-085?" 


The second man approached and looked down at the thing he was 

asked to witness. It looked less like a lizard and more like a wrinkly, 
rotting banana with legs. Its tail was rail-thin with starvation, its eyes 
sunken in with dehydration. 


"Sorry, | don't really like lizards. They kinda scare me." 


The lizard tried to crawl away with the renewed vigor of provided 
body heat. One last time, to search for food. 


"Look what you've done now! Get out! Get out now!" 


lts limbs collapsed underneath its skeleton-and-skin body, too weak 
to hunt. 


"It's ok little guy, who's still the cutest lizard? Who's still the cutest 
lizard? That's right it's you!" 


The human spoke with love and filled its room with love but love 
could not fill its long-empty belly or warm its chilled bones or give it 
shelter. The little lizard was drowned in the infinite love of humans. 


When it closed its eyes for the last time, the lizard dreamed that it 
had arrived in a place with no love. It didn't wake up. 


The Space Soldier 


The little boy didn’t really know what to do with it. 
“Daddy, what is it?” 

“Well, son, it’s a toy.” 

“Why does it look so funny?” 

“| made it for you myself! That’s what makes it special.” 


“But...| wanted a soldier toy. The one that fights aliens.” The boy’s 
lip was positively quivering. 


The boy’s father kneeled down and put a hand on his son’s 
shoulder, squeezing it fondly as he pushed the rather mismatched- 
looking robot toy towards his son. 


“| Know you did, and so did |. But we just couldn't get the one you 
wanted because we don’t have enough money. This one’s a soldier 
toy too. He fights evildoers with his robot claws of death.” 


The boy’s father picked up the robot and turned it on before setting it 
down on the ground. The voltmeter on its head flared up for a 
moment before the robot began to look around. 


“lam Sergeant Robo Boticon. Point me towards alien scum! | will 
destroy them with ease.” 


It clacked its claws menacingly, or at least attempted to do so. Given 
that its claws were half-broken tools, it merely opened and closed 
them very slowly. 


The boy didn’t seem amused. 


“Daddy, this toy already looks like it’s broken.” 


“Oh, that’s not true. Why, when | was a kid, | would’ve been glad to 
have a toy as good as this one. I’m sure you'll have a lot of fun 
together. | have to get to work now. I'll see you soon, son.” 


The father gave the boy a kiss on the head before heading out the 
door. The little boy sat on the ground, staring at his new toy with no 
small amount of confusion. 


“So, Sergeant Robo Boticon, huh. What can you do?” 


“| am the greatest soldier your planet has ever known. | hail from far 
away in the cosmos. Entire worlds of evil have burned beneath my 
iron boot. | destroy evil wherever | go. | am Sergeant Robo Boticon, 
the destroyer.” 


The boy giggled. It was funny at least. “Can you destroy a great evil 
right now?” 


“Evildoers shall taste my deadly claws of justice. Find me enemies 
to destroy, master.” 


“Well, let's go see what kind of enemies we can find, sergeant.” 


“Look, to the north.” 

The robot swiveled its head. 

“No, that’s south.” 

The robot swiveled its head again. 


“There. The evil monstrous witch known as Sis Dur. She can crush 
an entire platoon of soldiers with a stomp of her foot, and her wild 
wail summons the great beast Momon to end playtime for good. Can 
you handle her, Sergeant?” 


The robot stretched its nonexistent neck, as if it were trying to crack 
it. 


“She will taste death.” 


The toy moved out of the safety of the blanket on top of the couch, 

and promptly stepped off the edge of the couch, hitting the ground. 

The boy reached out a hand and flipped the flailing toy over, putting 
it back on its feet. 


The robot inclined its head in thanks, before turning back to its 
dangerous mission. It strode with deadly purpose (and rusty joints) 
to confront the menacing Sis Dur. 


The boy’s sister sat on the ground, playing with her dolls. 


The toy whispered to itself. “Prepare yourself for the grave, Sis Dur. 
Sergeant Boticon comes on swift wings of death to crush you.” 


The robot waddled slowly toward the girl. It came up to the foot of 
the girl, who looked down at it. The robot looked up and waved its 
claws as a warning. 


“| will destroy you.” The robot issued a challenge. 


The girl wrinkled her nose at it, and yelled at her brother. “Get your 
dumb robot out of here, we don’t want him around. We’re playing 
house.” 


“Your wishes are insignificant, Sis Dur. As is your remaining 
lifespan.” 


The toy bumped into the boy’s sister before slowly backing up and 
doing the same thing, over and over. It swiveled a claw to 
emphasize its point. The little girl wrinkled her nose at her brother 
again before standing up and walking away. She turned around for a 
moment. 


“You’re so annoying! Ugh, I’m gonna go play house in my room.” 


The toy swiveled around to face the boy and raised its claw ina 
salute. “Mission accomplished, master. The threat of Sis Dur is gone 
from this area. | will follow her to the ends of the universe to crush 
her between my claws to eliminate her completely.” 


“No need, sergeant! We’ve done more than enough already. Let’s 
go find some other evildoers.” The boy smiled widely. Perhaps the 


SCP-975: Subway Frogs 


Item #: SCP-975 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-975 is contained on-site. 
A 50 m section of the tunnel containing SCP-975-1 has been 
reinforced with 3 cm of titanium alloy plating and hermetically 
sealed, with the area accessible only via a secure airlock that is to 
be manned by at least two (2) armed guards at all times. This 
containment area is further sealed from the main tunnel network to 
deter urban explorers, and is now only accessible via an 
underground shaft in Site 


Any attempts to communicate with SCP-975-2 instances must by 
approved by O5 Command and overseen by Site Command, who 
may terminate proceedings at any given time. Any SCP-975-2 
instances attempting to escape the containment area must be 
detained. 


Description: SCP-975-1 is an anomalous opening approximately 
1.2 min diameter, located in an abandoned section of the 
[REDACTED] subway system, which has been in disuse for a period 
of at least 40 years. This opening appears to be lined or composed 
of organic substances, and does not appear to extend beyond the 
ceiling of the tunnel, despite having significant apparent depth while 
open. 


Periodically, SCP-975-1 will open and discharge a single instance of 
an entity designated SCP-975-2. While these entities superficially 
resemble frogs, they are in no way amphibians and in fact do not 
appear to have terrestrial physiology. SCP-975-2 is highly intelligent, 
and has quickly acquired the ability to communicate in English over 
a period of only six (6) months. There are currently 33 instances of 
SCP-975-2 in containment. 


toy would be more fun than he had thought. 


When the boy’s father got home that day, he came upon his son 
screeching with joy and playing with his toy. A broad smile on his 
face, he sat down next to his son, who was evidently reenacting 
some kind of battle between his new toy and a group of toy soldier 
figurines. 


“Sergeant! Crush those enemies with your claws!” 
The robot picked up one of the soldiers and closed its claws. 


“Before the air is crushed out of your lungs, take heart in knowing 
that you were defeated by a worthy foe as I.” 


The father smiled again. “Enjoying your new friend?” 


The boy laughed and hugged his father. “Daddy! Sergeant Robo 
Boticon and | are fighting evildoers. He’s good at it.” 


“Ah, creator. | have ensured that the last breath on the lips of alien 
evildoers across this living room is ‘Sergeant Robo Boticon.” The 
robot saluted. 


“Good job, Sergeant. Very good work. And now, | think it might be 
time for dinner. Let’s go son. We can play with your new toy later.” 


“Aw, Okay daddy. Let me just do one last thing, okay? | don’t want 
him to get bored.” 


“Well, alright. Wash your hands and come to dinner right after that 
though, okay?” 


“Yes, daddy!” 


The boy ran off to his room, with the toy under his arm, and dug 
around in his toy box for one special accessory. 


He pulled a shining white rocket out of his toy box. Then, he set 
down the robot on the ground, who looked up and down at the 
rocket. 


“A fine model. Excellent power. Energy efficient. Am | going ona 
voyage?” 


“Yes, Sergeant Robo Boticon. The Interstellar Soace Command has 
discovered that our galaxy is filled with evil-doing aliens.” 


“Monstrous.” 


“Your mission is to use this rocket to travel from planet to planet and 
fight these alien scum for the good of the galaxy. Do you accept?” 


The robot saluted. “Yes, master. They will know the name of death: 
Sergeant Robo Boticon.” 


The boy handed the robot a list of planets, picked up the robot, and 
stuffed it into the rocket. Then, he ran outside and placed the rocket 
down outside. 


“Sergeant, there is a high chance that you will not survive.” 


“Yes. But to destroy great evil, you need an even greater evil. And 
that is my claw of death. No one else is qualified.” 


“Godspeed, Sergeant.” 
“Tell my wife and children | love them.” 


The toy gave a solemn salute, before preparing himself for launch. 
The boy pressed some buttons on the remote and dial as he saluted 
the robot. 


With a massive roar, the rocket exploded out of the yard and shot 
straight into the sky, piercing through the heavens and out of orbit 
itself. The robot rattled in his bolts as the rocket reached supersonic 
speeds, slipping the gravity of the boy’s planet. 


Looking at his home and where he had spent his brief life up to this 
point, the robot pondered what it would be like to fight aliens 
elsewhere. Were they going to be ugly? Perhaps. Strong? Who 
knows? But his combat prowess would solve any problem, he was 
confident of that much. 


Settling into his seat, he decided to doze a little before arriving at his 
first destination. 


The robot was awoken by burning heat. 


Awakening with a start, he looked around. He was entering his first 
planet. Consulting the list his young master gave him, he read the 
name. 


“EARTH. What a strange name for a planet. No matter, they will 
taste death nonetheless.” 


The rocket smashed through the unfamiliar planet’s atmosphere and 
plowed into the ground below, ejecting the intrepid soldier. 


“The hell was that?!” The robot tried to look at what had spoken, but 
he had fallen over once again. Squirming around, he managed to 
turn slightly. He saw two things.