Fysiek (fys), volume; furlong? 
Firebird (fod), velocity; furlong/fortnight 
Faster (fas), acceleration; furlong/ 
fortnight? 

Feroarje (frj), jerk; furlong/fortnight? 
Flytta (fta), jounce; furlong/fortnight4 
Frekvenco (fkc), frequency; cycle/ 
fortnight 

Frequens (fqs), density; firkin/furlong? 
Flytting (ftg), momentum; {firkin- 


furlong}/fortnight 

Forgas (fgs), spin; {furlong@-firkin}/ 
fortnight 

Fuinneamh (fnh), energy; {furlong2- 
firkin}/fortnight@ 

Forog (frg), torque; {furlong2- firkin}/ 
fortnight? 

Fatica (fat), work; {furlong?- firkin}/ 
fortnight? 

Forta (for), power; {furlong2- firkin}/ 
fortnight8 

Fuarce (frc), force; {furlong-firkin}/ 
fortnight? 

Fesar (fes), pressure; firkin/{fortnight2- 
furlong} 


Fay (fay), charge; franklin-fortnight 
Fai-faa (ffa), potential difference; 


{furlong2-firkin}/{fortnight3-franklin} 
Fuente (fnt), inductance; {furlong2- 
firkin}/{fortnight2-franklin2} 

Farad (Far), capacitance; {fortnight4- 
franklin2}/{furlong@-firkin} 

Fankang (fan), resistance; {furlong2- 
firkin}/{fortnight3-franklin2} 

Fuhrung (fuh), conductance; {fortnight3- 
franklin2}/{furlong2-firkin} 

Fofo (ffo), heat capacity; {firkin- 
furlong?}/{franklin-fortnight?} 


+ Additional accepted units: 


Fathom (ftm), depth; 1/110 of a furlong 
Finger (fin), length; 1/10,560 of a furlong 
Fother (foh), mass; 28 firkins 

Fotmal (fot), mass; 14/15 of a firkin 
Flask (fsk), mass; 38/45 of a firkin 
Frasilah (fsh), mass; 7/18 of a firkin 
Friedman (fdn), time; [the next] 12 
fortnights 

Feddan (fed), area; 1/10 of a furlong2 
Foe (foe), energy; 1.2x1040 furlong- 
firkins 

Fixture (fix), flow; 7/99,825 of a 
furlong3/fortnight 

Fresnel (Fsn), frequency; 1.21x1018 
cycles/fortnight 


+ Prefixes for multiples/fractions: 


bettti- (X), 2027 
yotiia(y,) 10024 
zetiti- (Z), 102 
enidi-(E) 1 00% 
pistd- (Ff), 1075 
tater T}),016-6 
gige-(), 10% 
piega{q@M)L0r08 
faynte- (FI),100% 


* btto- (K), 1028 
> bepto- (£)), 1002 
+ Yokto-(p)), 10124 
is fpluna- (kl), me? 


Input: One (1) Tarot card, removed from one of the 
previous decks 

Setting: Very Fine 

Output: A small business card with the words "Doctor 
Hadian will win the Lottery tonight" printed neatly on it. 
Note: That last one didn't come true. Figures. -Dr. 
Hadian 


Name: Dr. Hadian 

Date: 18/3/17 

Total Items: Three (3) homemade "stress balls" made 
from balloons and rice grains. 


Input: One (1) of the above-mentioned "stress balls" 
Setting: 1:1 

Output: A small bean bag, similar to that used by 
professional jugglers. 


Input: One (1) of the above-mentioned "stress balls" 
Setting: Fine 

Output: An unaltered stress ball. A stress ball that, at 
random intervals between a minute and five minutes in 
length, hurls itself at the face of the person in closest 
proximity to it. If the face is covered or otherwise 
protected, it will alternatively aim for the stomach or 
crotch. Object secured and destroyed. 

Note: I'm guessing it took the idea of a "stress" ball very 
literally. Ouch. -Dr. Hadian 


Input: One (1) of the above-mentioned "stress balls" 
Setting: Very Fine 

Output: A palm-sized teddy bear, stuffed with plastic 
beads. The object is animate and seems to have a 
fascination with cuddling/nuzzling ankles and 
infrequently requests signs of affection. Object contained 
for further study. 


Notes: And whoever decides to look into this farther... be 
nice to the little guy, all right? -Dr. Hadian 


On the Home Front 


You sit down in your office chair. 


You look down the hallway 

At the hundreds of skips’ cells, 
(Roars throughout the dark hallway) 
Reminded of all the work to do 

To keep your world safe from harm. 


You walk down and observe a test. 


They’re seeing how 682 feeds. 
It's given a lamb and some steel; 
682 consumes the plate instantly, 
Digesting both as it would Earth. 
But it is returned to containment. 


You walk down and observe a test. 


They’re seeing how strong 173 is. 
It's given a horse and an elephant; 
173 snaps them both in the dark, 
Standing in their blood in the light. 
But it is returned to containment. 


You sit down to analyze the tests. 
You get a phone call at your desk. 


Your home has been robbed; 
Your wife and daughter murdered. 
The suspect is your neighbor’s son. 


You thank the officer for the call. 


You look down the hallway, again, 
At the couple of skips’ pens, 


(Rustles throughout the light hallway) 
Reminded of all the work to do 
To keep your world safe from harm. 


So, you walk home to analyze a test. 


On the Outskirts 


1994: When | Chanced into an 
International Conspiracy 


My first interaction with the Foundation was in the summer of 1994. | 
was a kid right out of college, just having gotten a job as a Park 
Ranger. That was my dream job, ever since | was a child. Not this, 
not by any means. 


| was working at Crater Lake then. That's where I've been working 
for the past twenty years. Before the Foundation, | had entertained 
the idea of trying to work at a different part. Yosemite had already 
fascinated me, for instance. But the Foundation controls. The 
personnel of Crater Lake didn't leave Crater Lake with their 
memories intact, and | value mine. 


Two weeks after | started work, | drive into work. | notice there's a 
nice car in the parking lot, something that sticks out like a sore 
thumb in the parking lot of a national park. Cars like that belong in 
Illuminati bases, not a park in the middle of Oregon. As it turned out, 
the latter was more like the former than | would have preferred. 


| clock into work and my boss calls me aside. Tells me that 

somebody is here to meet with me, and it is extremely important. He 
leads me aside into one of of the offices, and there is an impeccably 
dressed man inside. The man smiles as | sit down across from him. 


"Hello. You're Mr. Lance Owens, correct?" He smiles the whole time. 
This is procedural for him, nothing out of the ordinary. 


| gulp out a response. "Uh, yeah, that's me. What's this about? You 
from the feds?" 


He laughs and shakes his head. "Not quite. Mr. Owens, I'm going to 


let you on a little secret. It's actually something of a big secret. Are 
you ready to hear it?" 


| nod. 


"The supernatural, the paranormal, ghosts, vampires, werewolves: 
it's all real. All of it." 


Surprisingly, | didn't think he was crazy at first. | don't think | really 
understood what he was saying. 


"| work for an organization known as the SCP Foundation. That 
stands for Secure, Contain and Protect. We keep the anomalous 
away from the world, so that it remains safe." 


"Like in X-Files." 


"Exactly." He makes this little smirk, like he knows something | don't. 
That's probably true. "Just like in X-Files. But the reason I'm here is 
to hire you, Mr. Owens." 


"Oh, well, I... | just got this job and | went to college for this, I've only 
been working for two weeks and-" 


"You misunderstand me, Mr. Owens. There is an anomalous object 
within Crater Lake National Park. You've heard of the Old Man of 
the Lake, yes?" 


"Of course, it's one of the main attr-" 


"The Old Man of the Lake — which we refer to as SCP-3310 — is 
the linchpin in a complex thaumaturgical ritual system which 
prevents the catastrophic resurgence of a dormant apex-tier 
pluripotent entity with unknown ontokinetic, pistiphagic and 
deumorphic properties." 


| still have no idea what any of that is supposed to mean. 
"In layman's terms, it is preventing the rebirth of a deceased god." 


| sit there, speachless at the stream of technobabble he spouted at 
me, all of well defined and scientifically approved and completely, 


utterly meaningless. "Okay." | pause for a second. "What do you 
want me to do?" 


"All we ask of you is that you keep on your normal work, and get 
paid a little extra for it. And in the rare occasion that the situation 
demands it, you doing everything you possibly can to make sure that 
Llao, god of monsters stays dead." 


There was a brief moment of silence. 


"No biggie." 


1995: When I Realized the Mess 
| Was In 


When the Illuminati hijacks your life and doesn't tell you anything, 
you start to itch there at your collar. You try to figure out what they 
really want from you, what they really want from the world, and most 
importantly, who the everloving fuck they actually are. 


And in January 1995, that itch | had started burning and | decided 
that | had to learn everything | could about the Foundation, so ona 
cold winter's night | drove out to Crater Lake and broke into my 
boss's office. It's been long enough that | feel comfortable talking 
about that. Nothing bad will come of it, not now. 


| was looking for his files on 3310 and for an scraps of information 
about the Foundation. | was already familiar with the Old Man by 
that point, and | didn't need to learn anything more about him. But 
the Foundation remained in the shadows, barely anything visible 
beyond the surface. 


Those files didn't even come close to revealing what the Foundation 
really was, but between the lines you could just make out its true 
shape, like the fin of a shark poking above the surface. There's a lot 
in common between a shark and the Foundation, you know. 


One of the documents in the 3310 file was about a potential coverup 


of the Old Man. One of those old bastards on the council — O5-2, | 
think — got nervous about the fact that people simply Anew that the 
Old Man existed. That bothered me, at the time: The leadership of 
the Foundation, with so much power and control, was anonymous. 
Rank and serial, no name. 


So O5-2 makes a proposal: targeted application of amnestics to 
remove the Old Man from the collective memory of the world. There 
was an estimation of how much that would cost, and it was in the 
hundred millions. Dosing thousands of people with amnestics. A 
massive undertaking. | was shocked that they would consider such 
measures for 3310. 


There was a reply to the proposal, coming from the desk of O5-9. 
They argued that the current containment was working fine, and that 
if knowledge that the Old Man was anomalous was concealed, that 
was enough. The situation was fine, and such a measure was 
unnecessary. It would be better to save such resources for a more 
pressing time. 


Did you catch that? 
Do you get what's missing in that rebuttal? 


At no point in that rebuttal did O5-9 ever say anything to regard of 
"we don't have that kind of money" or "the logistics of dosing that 
many people is impossible." It doesn't enter the equation. The 
proposal is treated as something that could be feasibly 
accomplished, if the Foundation wanted to. The only barrier was that 
it wasn't needed, so why bother? 


It rapidly began to dawn on me the kind of people | was working with 
and just how much control they really had. | found that discussion 
fairly early on during my investigation (if you can even call it that) 
and it was enough for me to stop immediately. 


The way it seemed at the time was that | had been hearing of a bear 
in the woods. So | mount a hunt to go and find this bear, and | track 
it down to the cave. | sneak it, gun at the ready, and whip around the 
corner, only to find I'm not hunting a bear, | never was. This thing is 
not a bear, nothing like a bear. 


No, | realized | was a fool looking for a colossus. 


2001: When the Foundation 
Came Close 


| have only ever interacted with two of what the Foundation called 
"SCP objects." Skips is common slang for Foundation employees. | 
guess that included myself, which is an alienating thought. Even 
then | was only tangentially working for the Foundation. They aren't 
who | recieved the bulk of my paycheck from, only a little stipend. 


The only ever other SCP object | have ever seen — in the context of 
my employee of the Foundation, I've seen all the ones on the news 
— is SCP-978. They call it the "Desire Camera". It doesn't take 
pictures, it shows whatever the subject wants most in the world. 


In case you're keeping track, this means | interacted with an tree 
stump capable of causing an eschaton and what really amounted to 
a toy. 


An agent had come down from Portland, carrying the camera with 
this veneer of secrecy and safety, like it was precious cargo. We had 
been informed of the visit weeks in advance, and had been told to 
prepare for the event like it was of the utmost importance. We 
treated that way, the fools we are, because we didn't want to let the 
big, scary, spooky Foundation down. 


So the agent comes in, all full of himself. We all have a thousand 
questions for him — everyone there worked for the Foundation, but 
had any of us ever seen the inside of a Site? Even so much as 
touched another anomaly? We were all Level 0, with an elevation for 
3310. | was 4/3310/HMCL at the end, sure, but for everything else | 
was stuck at 0. 


| was the one boating him on the lake to take the photo and along 
the way | tried to make small talk with him. He wasn't having any of 
it, so | shut up. | took the containment of 3310 seriously — everyone 
at Crater Lake did. Nothing but the utmost professionalism when it 


came to that log and that lake. Still do, mind you. That wouldn't 
change anything. 


We had been told it could end the world. | hear that a lot of 
Foundation agents deal with something called "K-Class Fatigue". 
You keep hearing about this and that can lead to the end of the 
world and that phrase stops carrying any weight. It diminishes the 
importance and you stop caring, those words stop being important. 


But those few of us stationed at Crater Lake only ever dealt with the 
one object, and we only ever heard that one thing had potential to 
the end the world. There would be nights when we'd ask each other 
if we thought there was a potential of there being other world enders 
out there, and we'd always settle on the answer of "Most likely, yes, 
but let's not worry about it." 


The agent and | were out on the lake, sitting in a small motor boat. It 
had taken a few minutes to find the Old Man — he's a wanderer — 
and the agent seemed like he was getting fed up with me. | imagine 
there has to be a massive difference in standards between a Park 
Ranger and a Foundation Agent. Both of us were competent at our 
jobs, but they weren't the same job. 


We pulled up to the Old Man and he snapped a photo. The print 
came out instantly, since it was a Polaroid. He shook it out, and 
showed it to me with a look on his face like | was supposed to 
explain it. 


It was a completely different picture. The Old Man — | just knew it 
was him — was back to being a tree, planted in the ground and 
whole again. At the bottom of the picture were two figures, not quite 
human. One was attacking the other, breaking open his rip cage and 
biting his heart. It was gruesome. 


| told the agent that it probably represented Llao and Skell. At that 
point in time, | had gone above and beyond looking for any scraps of 
information about those two, in the off chance that any of it might 
help me deal with a "containment breach." Didn't do me any good, of 
course: all you need to know about this job is that there are storms 
and monsters. 


That photo, by the way, never got included in any of the 
documentation on 3310. Apparently, the photos 978 produces aen't 
reliable enough or something for the Foundation to put any actual 
weight on them, so they pretty much just get ignored outside of the 
file log on 978 itself. 


That day was one of the most important days of my career. It didn't 
even matter to my job in the slightest. 


2013: When the Masquerade 
Was Shattered