It glinted in the light of the faraway Sun. Spires of dull towering metal 
drifted in the cosmic wind, each with a glowing orange core, each 
the size of a small city. The constructs contained enough power to 
vaporize star systems. With one thought, the entity at the center of 
this grand iron cathedral could gaze upon lightyears of space and 
reduce them to a hot slurry of base particles. Its cannons, reactors, 
generators, armor, and power were infinite, in the truest sense of the 
word. Its disparate network of machines floated in the void, orbiting 
around one locus. 


Nestled at the heart of this assembly of endlessly destructive 
engines was the form of a human woman. Small, and unimpressive. 
An afterthought, kept only out of a sense of vague respect for what 
the entity used to be. A nostalgic figurine. Skin of pure elemental 
iron, the entity's favorite. A gentle fiery glow could be seen between 
the plates. A hint of the furnace at its heart. 


The small figure looked at its own hands, and wondered. 
It was still known to itself as Monica. 


She had more or less lost her humanity completely. She was no 
longer a person, and she knew it. Either that, or the definition of 
humanity had changed forever. She kept her name, and the 
memories of what she used to be. Her knowledge was as close to 
complete as it could have been, after devouring and integrating most 
of what used to be the Internet and the secure databases of the 
erstwhile United States, but she found herself incapable of 
forgetting. 


And she didn't want to. 


There were others near her. The survivors, who had ascended 
alongside her, who she had led to absolution. 


There was the thing that once called itself Dozer. He and his 
engineers, who had always been fast friends, had elected to encase 
themselves in stone and fuse, becoming one mind. Now they formed 
a monolithic citadel of beautiful white and black statuary, with miles 
of carvings of people and houses and plants and bygone 
civilizations, which moved within the halls and spires and drifted in 
the solar breeze with life of their own. Memories of where they had 
come from, hewn from rock and given new life, to stand for all time. 


Ogre and Violet were there as well. On their last day before leaving 
Earth, they had married, and wove their essences together. Now 
they existed as a great menagerie of plants and animals, across 
dozens of floating islands with their own pockets of breathable air 
and gravity. On the largest island were two thrones in which the two 
lovers sat and looked upon the lives they had saved with pride and 
affection, determined to find a place where Earth's treasured 
creatures could live anew. 


And there was Norman. He was nameless now, a moon-sized mass 
of flesh swathed in a sea of luminous and rich blue-green water. 
Great leviathan shapes could be seen moving under the waves of its 
surface, creatures of Norman's own design which had taken ona 
strange and alien existence of their own. His mind unreeled for 


lightyears in all directions, hunting for minds to discover and learn, 
relentless in his quest for learning and enlightenment. 


And there were many thousands of others, each with shapes 
incredible and unique, every one an expression of a human mind let 
loose from the constraints of mere possibility. 


Below these gods, the planet they had once called home burned 
and shuddered. 


Little life remained in the wake of the destruction that the Foundation 
had wrought. In their desire to remain the only true humans, they 
had cracked the continents with their bombs and boiled the seas in 
technological rage. The energies whirled and all the while, the Blue 
simply existed, uncaring and unmoving in the face of all their wrath. 
The tree had grown until it was no longer a tree. It became a 
sprawling ecosystem of its own; a huge network of glowing 
aquamarine tendrils that had sprouted and overtaken most of the 
western United States. 


And once the world began to burn, it left. 


It ascended into the sky, a massive aggregate of interwoven strands 
that glowed, indifferent to the suffering and destruction. It blossomed 
and writhed languidly in orbit with the ones that it had changed, 
reacting to nothing, simultaneously comforting and terrifying. 


Monica had never had great love for the Foundation, but now 
understood what a purpose they had served. They had chained 
back thousands of humanity's unseen and immortal foes. They had 
been the bedrock upon which civilization rested. For so long, they 
had been salvation itself, and she knew that it was likely that without 
them she would not exist. 


She supposed it was fitting then, that they had decided to die upon 
finally being rendered obsolete. Humanity no longer needed them, 
and in their rage at their loss of purpose, they had chosen to self- 
immolate rather than go on. 


Before the end, she had spoken with some of them. She had 
become too powerful to threaten by that time, and wanted them to 


Testing with Foundation Personnel and Possessions 


Subject: Dr. Jack Bright 

Photographed Activity: Engaged in a heated discussion with Dr. 
Clef. Only Dr. Bright is caught by the camera. 

Photo Result: Entire scene has changed. Appears to be outside, 
sky in background, grass in foreground. Subject of picture is simple 
tombstone bearing the engraving "Jack Bright, Resting at Last." 


Subject: Dr. Clef 

Photographed Activity: Walking away from a heated discussion 
with Dr. Bright. 

Photo Result: Walking away from a heated discussion with Dr. 
Bright. Head was replaced with an image of a hand with a raised 
middle finger (as expected, given Dr. Clef's unusual properties). 
Unexpected, however, was the inclusion of a small girl wearing a 
white dress in the background, sitting on a desk and swinging her 
feet with an expression of boredom on her face. The identity of the 
child is currently unknown. 

Addendum: Closer analysis of the photograph reveals that 
structures previously believed to be shoes on the child's feet are in 
fact polished black cloven hooves. 


Subject: One golden hamster (Charles) and Dr. Fisher 
Photographed Activity: Being held in Dr. Fisher's left hand. 
Photo Result: The hamster is sleeping in a cage. Dr. Fisher's hand 
is nowhere to be seen. 


Subject: One blue swivel office chair 
Photographed Activity: Positioned near and facing a corner. 
Photo Result: No change. 


Subject: Dr. Klein 

Photographed Activity: Photographed at desk, mixed expression 
of surprise and marked disapproval. 

Photo Result: Seated at desk, mixed expression of surprise and 
pleasure. Protruding from the bottom of the frame is a chocolate 
birthday cake. 


Subject: Dr. Simon Glass 
Photographed Activity: Subject is sitting in office, writing psych- 


see reason. Surely eternity was worth letting go of some outdated 
principles and prejudices. Surely the definition of what was 
“anomalous” no longer mattered, and they could come to see that it 
was senseless to prolong such a futile struggle. 


But they spat in her face, and chose the fire instead. They would 
rather normalcy be absolute, than live one more day sharing a 
planet with such unclean and abhorrent monsters. And so Monica 
saved who chose to leave, and left them to their blaze of glory. 


For all intents and purposes, they had been humanity /tse/f. But that 
no longer meant what it used to. 


The future was so much larger than a ball of rock ruined by those 
that chose to burn eternity to salvage the past. Out there was 
possibility. Potential. The far bounds of reality failed to care that 
humanity yet existed, that they had come upon the cusp of their 
apotheosis. 


But Monica swore that she would make them care. They would sear 
their sign upon the stars themselves. They would thrive, and quake 
the pillars of creation with their advent. 


She shed one final tear, a droplet of molten metal that drifted into 
the expanse. A memento, for those that had fallen to ignorance and 
pride and pointless strife. 


She signaled to her people. And they left the Earth behind, to seek 
their fate in the cosmos. 


Alone in its orbit, the Blue, the Empyrean Parasite, the ineffable 
creature of secret inner fire that had been first among all of Life, 
saw. The results of its work were painted across eons, and this 
latest thread it had woven into the grand tapestry pleased it to no 
end. There had been such potential here, and now it was realized in 
full. 


It would need to be, to withstand what was to come. 


It laughed, a quiet sound that buckled the stars in their stride and 
twisted space itself in a paroxysm of primal joy in a victory well-won. 


And it also left, to see if the grand defenses of this reality were yet 
strong enough. 


SCP-3731 
Apotheosis Hub 


/ 


Perfect Mind 


Whenever | enter my Mind Palace, no matter where | am - be it the 
subway, a forest, or a hospital ward - white walls come up around 
me. They are cold and seem to be made of light. This place hasn't 
always looked like this. Initially | started with a simple apartment 
which | was furnishing as | saw fit. | used to relocate the furniture 
and invite guests. In time, the Palace has been changing, morphing 
into a lofty cathedral with clouds instead of a ceiling; then came a 
deep dark cave - at that time | was descending into the very depths 
of my soul to hunt and catch beasts. In the end of it | settled with 
plain white walls, now that | don't need any decorations or 
objectification of my inner space. Everything | need is here. 


Out of the darkness before me a geometric shape manifests. It looks 
as if woven from invisible ethereal threads; an intertwinement of 

glowing rings rotating around a single center point. Rainbow dances 
on the rings, yet my eyes aren't blinded by the light - they bask in its 
soft radiance. My Mentor soars up to me and | greet him with a nod. 


I've known him to take the shape of a raven, a human, a couple of 
koi fishes, a double helix. Today his appearance matches his 
essence almost completely, for what is knowledge if not pure light? 


Today is the last time you come to me. | hear his vibrating voice full 
of rich harmonics. If | was to visualize that sound, I'd have imagined 
a water surface with fine ripples. 


“Why?” | ask as | study the mesmerizing dance of his rings. 


After today’s meeting you shall no longer need my company. As he 
speaks, the synesthetic liquid ripples like water resonating in a 
Tibetan singing bowl. | enjoy watching the vibration of sound waves, 
the softly quivering sine curves. 


The image got you distracted. 


| defocus my vision and train my eyes on my Mentor once more 
whose image was by now getting somewhat blurry. 


"Now I've got nothing left but images. Even those start getting 
insignificant." 


That means you're very close now. 
"Close to what?" 


To realizing the most important thing. Self-perfection has a limit. 
Every journey has a terminal stage, an apotheosis that negates the 
very nature of moving forward. 


"Why did you never mention this before?" 


That would have made an image of a goal appear in your mind. That 
image is harmtul, it distracts one from the process of knowledge. 


The walls move apart and space surges towards me and through 
me, accelerating quickly. I'm dashing through the Universe yet at the 
same time | remain static, watching as light around me turns to solid 
bars. 


Soon I'm drawn into matter, into its rapidly growing deepness. | zip 
through the insane empty gaps between atoms - in contrast, the 
latter look like tiny particles of sand; suddenly, these gaps turn into 
cosmic voids of unsurpassed scale, and that makes me remember 
the words of the ancient mystic Trismegistus, ‘As above, so below.’ | 
witness the world looping on itself, shifting to the largest condition 
from the smallest one, and every Planckian length reveals to me the 
vastness of outer space. I'm seeing electron shells akin to planetary 
nebulae and planets akin to tiniest particles. Then my perception 
readjusts and | see the emptiness that fills 99.9% of the Universe. It 
is akin to a spreading oil spill and it finds its way everywhere. 


Suddenly | feel a shove that throws me back into the return point - a 
conventional circle drawn on the Palace's floor. | realize that I'm still 
sitting in its center with white walls rising around me. 


What did you see? asks the Mentor. 


"Matter and emptiness. There is an immense amount of emptiness, 
it's the basis of what we consider solid matter. Matter is spread thin 
and suspended in vacuum. | knew that already." 


You think you know much about matter. But you've never gone any 
deeper than quarks, have you? 


"Yes. Whenever | tried doing that, they were becoming pure 
energy." 


Now open your eyes. 


I'm not happy about the idea of breaking my trance right now, yet | 
grudgingly obey. Through the slits of my eyes | see a dimly-lit, 
sparsely furnished room. There is a table in front of me, with a stack 
of books and several plates on it. Before it stand several boxes of 
my belongings which | never bothered to unpack after | moved. A 
piece of gym equipment near a wall. Grated windows. Soft light is 
breaking through the matte glass, glancing on the brick walls and 
shiny floor tiles. My Mentor is still here - weird as it seems, he didn't 
vanish with the Palace, having shifted to the real world instead. Only 
the fact that his presence doesn't light up the room confirms he's 
really no part of it. 


Look around. What do you see? 
"| see a room. A table. A window. Boxes." 


Not quite. You're only seeing their reflection on your retina. Your 
eyes receive signals from the outside world, and your brain is wired 
in such a way as to project the processed result outwards. You're 
dealing with a hologram of your own neural activity. 


"I'm not seeing the real world as much as the outward projection of 
my own neural patterns," | rephrase. 


You are a thing in yourself. Everything you see around you only 
exists in your mind. Light is falling on your retina and your brain 
encodes it so that you see a locker or a window. Actually, the 
images that appear in your mind are completely unrelated to those 
things. 


"If there is a light coming from the outside and creating stable 
images," | object, "that means there are objects that exist 
independently from me. And | have to take their objective existence 
into account." 


Am | an object? Do | exist independently from you? 


"You're not in the room yet | see you. Just as | see the Palace and 
all the other things that aren't. But there's a great difference between 
things existing in the physical world and the images generated by 
my own imagination. The latter are malleable, conventional and 
subject to my will. The former, whatever they are and however | see 
them, exist independently from me." 


That is correct. 


| catch a satisfied breath, realizing that | remembered the boundary 
between the real world and the world of ideas and images just in 
time. If | were to visualize it, | would have imagined a soap bubble 
film, durable but stretching under pressure. 


Meanwhile the Mentor stays silent. His cold, concentrated attention 
focused on me hints that we're not done yet. 


"That is quite a mediocre thought. You seem to have something to 
add." 


Exactly. Now listen close. All this time I’ve been accustoming you to 
the notion of emptiness. You were meant to become adjusted to it, 
become comfortable in it. Now you have to make one last step. This 
step is to forget everything you've learned to this day. It's all not true. 


| feel a chill running down my spine. It seems like we're approaching 
the crucial topic. 


Truth is, there is no light falling on your retina. 
"| don't understand."