pain. | looked down to see a needle sticking in it. Quick guy. Quicker 
than me. | hadn't thought anyone was quicker. 


| stumbled and collapsed against the doorway. The man watched 
me as | closed my eyes and drifted away. 


"Sweet dreams, Mr. Redd." 
Previous: 16. Mr. Fish by Dexanote 

Next: Epilogue by Anaxagoras 
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Happy birthday iamtycho 


Epilogue 


You slowly awaken in a blank white room. You can't remember 
anything. Wait, that's not so. You know how to talk, how to walk, 
what things are, but some things, like how you got here, what this 
place is, and who you are swim beyond the grasp of your mind. You 
search for a name, but have nothing. 


You seem to be wearing comfortable clothing. It feels tailored. 
There's something stiff in the back pocket of your jeans. A piece of 
paper, with a list of names written on it. You read: 


Wow! You've just found yourself your very own Little 
Mister, a limited edition collection from Dr. 
Wondertainment! 

Befriend them all and become Mr. Lovel!! 

01. Mr. Clank 

02. Mr. Headless 


The list goes on, but you don't read it. Instead you crumple it up and 
hold it tight. There's something soothing about having. 


You decide to turn your attention to your surroundings. Four white 
walls, one with a door. You go to it, and it swings open at your 
touch. A park, with people walking and playing. The building behind 
you is just a shack. People holding things that... 


You realize who you are, your name pounding through your head 
with more certainty than anything you've known before. Mr. 
Collector. And you know what it is you do. You see the invisible 
strings from your hands to the toys and trinkets and baubles of these 
people and you grab them tight and pull. A hundred things that you 
know should be yours suddenly are, as their former owners look 
about in confusion for what were their possessions. Because this is 
who you are. You're Mr. Collector. 


Except... that's not right. You don't know anything like you know 
that. There's something wrong with that. You realize, in a way that 
feels somehow more real, that you have another name. 


Oh. The people are shouting at you demanding that you return 
"their" items. You ignore them. Of course you're Mr. Collector. Only 
Mr. Collector could touch the invisible strings. But could you also be 
someone else? A name, a name, it continues to elude you. 


Now there's a police car coming up, and the officer is coming. The 
cold black of his gun would nicely complement the sheen of this 
earring you hold. You reach out and it rips free from the holster and 
it's yours now. You love your collection more than anything. 


You have a thought. In your mind you visualize a cord from you to 
whatever you were before (Before? The part of you that booms out 
that you are Mr. Collector doesn't like the notion). You pull and 
there's nothing there, nothing you recognize as a name. Just a cold 
string of letters and numbers, signifying nothing. 


The officer grabs you, spilling your precious collection to the ground. 
You scream in anguish and inside your head cling to the only thing 
you have left. O5-4. 


Previous: End by Salmander 
Fin! 


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Project Thaumiel 


Further approval is necessary. 
Please Enter Password Now: 
Does the black moon howl? 
No, but the sparrow's call is sweet. 
... Incorrect. 

Please Enter Password Now. 
Does the black moon howl? 
Yes, but only in winter. 

... Incorrect. 

LET ME IN 

Further approval is necessary. 
Please Enter Password Now: 
Does the black moon howl? 


The interface has been inactive for three minutes. Do 
you need assistance? 


n 
Do you wish to stay connected? 
yi 

Only when waning. 


Please Step Away From the Interface and Place Your 


Hands on Your Head. You Do Not Have Access to File 
Status: Thaumiel. 


Security Will Assist You Shortly. 
Do Not Resist. 


¢ Clavis 
¢ Corvus 
* Cygnus 
* Lux 

* Pila 

« Rota 

¢ Virr 

¢ Visium 


On living subjects, copies of SCP-718 are permanently affixed. 
Attempts to surgically remove SCP-718 cause extreme pain in the 
subject, though removal is possible. Aside from a vague and 
persistent desire to destroy other copies of SCP-718, the host 
suffers from no ill effects after removal. 


If SCP-718 is not removed from a living subject, testing indicates 
that the subject becomes able to 'see' through SCP-718. Vision with 
SCP-718 is different, as [DATA EXPUNGED] is now visible, at the 
expense of more conventional sight. This has an extremely 
detrimental effect on subjects, drastically lowering mental stability 
and often leading to suicide. The death of a host will cause SCP-718 
to burst. 


Eighty-six instances of SCP-718 are currently contained within the 
containment chamber. 


« SCP-717 | SCP-718 | SCP-719 » 


Clavis 


Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Project 001-Future Sight has 
been enacted and regarded as a success. Text was recovered by 
having SCP-187 examine the terminal at Site- . Her copied text was 
then sent through SCP-758 to correct it, and then translated by Dr. 

. Immediate communication with O5- , O5- , and O5- is 
enacted. Operation Thaumiel is in full effect. Repeat: this is not a 
drill. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. DO NOT DISREGARD. 
Repeat: Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is 
in full action. 


Communique recovered from Site- read as follows: 


1. And lo, | cried unto the Ephesians, the 
Smyrnanites, the Pergamonians, the Thyatirans, 
the Sardinians, the Philadelphians, and the 
Leodicians to hear my cry! And they have heard it 
not. 

2. For the Ephesians, ye are unto sowers of chaos 
and ruin, and so though shalt reape. For thou hast 
strayed from the path, the true path, and shall 
receive none of my glory. The hand of God will 
smite thee and thine power shall be as sand, and 
the strength of your arms shall be as straw which, 
when smote, is broken. 

3. And ye Smyrnanites, truly thou are of the hands of 
the adversary, consorting with demons in thine 
great, hidden place, where eyes seek but do not 
find. The books shall be burned up, and the doors, 
and the eyes of all man and beast within it. 

4. Alas, ye Pergamonians, to thou the name has 
been given, and thou has heard it not! Ye have 
turned to the cog and wheel and written a new 
name upon it and sought God there, but he is not 
there, for he is above and not of your hands. The 


abomination that thou has sought to craft will be no 
more, and its blood and body will be as a river of 
copper and brass. 

5. And ye Thyatirans, my good and loyal servants 
who have endured and waged war on things of 
Satan—though thou has consorted with him, your 
soul is pure and clean, and | shall welcome you 
into the war and into the victory of heaven. 

6. Ye Sardinians, lo, thou has been unto a thorn in 
the side of heaven, and God has tired of this 
suffering and will pluck you out, for one of thee 
dwells in outer darkness, and the other two of thine 
unholy trinity will join him, and be cast forth into the 
void. 

7. Lo, Philadelphians, thou hear not my words or my 
will, for you do no listen. You hands have turned 
upon themselves and your creations are as 
abominations and sin in the eyes of God. Truly, 
thou are of a sinful heart and mind, given only to 
works of evil and the mad, and shall not thine sins 
find thee out? 

8. And ye Laodocians. Truly, thou are of the greatest 
of the sinners, for all thine good and loyal works, 
thou heapest more suffering upon those who have 
done no wrong in the eyes of God. Truly, thou are 
as a Saint who, upon saving the souls of many, 
dashes their faith against a stone and watches as 
it tumbles into the sea. Salvation wast thine goal, 
and salvation thou has dealt, but salvation shall 
not be delivered unto you. Thou shalt be delivered 
unto mine hand. 

9. Ye churches of the world! Hear mine voice and 
tremble! The gates are open! The seals are 
broken! The trumpets have sounded! 

10. We are riding forth. 


Repeat. Repeat. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not 
disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel 
is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu- 


Zulu. Operation lo though | walk through the valley Thaumiel is in full 
action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. 
Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency 
Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. fear no 
evil, for thou art with me Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray- 
Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. 
Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. thy rod and thy staff Operation 
Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray- 
Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is they comfort me in full action. Do 
not disregard. Operation dwell in the house of the Lord Thaumiel is 
in full ac Amen 


Corvus 


| know my eyes look sunken without actually touching them. They 
always do, now days. 


| can feel them—them—both pressed against my chest, just above 
my heart, and for the first time in eons, | push a smile onto my face. 
This will be it, then. One last swipe, one last... Ending. But it was 
worth it, wasn't it? 


| have to believe that it was. If | didn't, I'd have put a bullet in my 
head a long time ago. Or a knife in my gut. Or a grith behind my ear. 
Depends on the universe, after all. As | drum my fingers along the 
ark, | allow myself to reminisce. | only do it now, at the end. It's the 
only time | dare to. Because I'm sure that—at any other moment— 
my conscience would get the better of me. It's odd, | admit, thinking 
like that. I'd thought it was gone, along with Alyssa, but it's still there. 
It nags at me. 


Leaving home was hard, after all. Quite hard. Not just for me 
emotionally, but... the science there, | couldn't begin to fully 
comprehend. Imagine, just for a moment, you're floating above the 
world. Now, imagine it suddenly being stabbed open by some 
invisible, incomprehensible thing. The world cracking open like a 
filthy, blue egg—oceans falling down the sides helplessly, the lava 
generating huge gouts of steam. And an uneven keening sound. 
You may imagine that it's the sudden steam, but I've lived long 
enough to know better. 


It's screaming. 


Now... imagine falling into that. Falling and falling and falling until 
you hit the ground. And when you get up... it looks like the same, 
damned place. The same people. Evolution is, if nothing else, 
remarkably consistent. 


Now, do that for a thousand lifetimes. And tell me you don't feel 


guilt. 


| feel old. And | am old. But I'm also nearly done. After this one, | 
should be able to put my work to use... To change things for the 
better. Which made it so much worse when you walked in my office. 
And | knew, when you looked at me, what you were about to do. 


"| can explain," | say. But the gun is leveled at my chest. And | know 
that I'm out of supplies. | reach into my pocket quietly, pulling out the 
key card and my diary. 


"You don't know what this means for you,” | say. 
"It means you aren't going to kill us all," you respond. 


| stand up. | look at you closely and shake my head. "No. It means 
that you'll have to. The key code is Thaum—" 


The shot echoes in the small room, and | feel the hollow point hitting 
my chest like a sledge hammer, feel ribs splintering and sinking into 
my lung, my organs being ravaged. And | smile. And | laugh. And 
through bloody spittle, | manage to barely gasp enough breath to 
speak. 


"Good luck," | say. You're not smiling. 


And | hope, for the millionth time, that all universes share one 
heaven. And | hope, for the millionth time, that | can see you in it 
from my special hell. 


Cygnus 


“| was hoping this could wait, gentlemen,” O5-1 said, sitting back in 
his chair and sighing heavily. 


“| was afraid that was what this was...” replied Eleven, running her 
fingers over her ear, pushing her hair back. “Are we sure we want to 
do this? There’s a good chance that the ramifications could be far 
further stretching than we originally considered.” 


“Perhaps, but then, we’d also run the risk of something worse. 
Stagnation is always better than deterioration. | wake up, look at the 
notes, and realize that I’ve got new memories... New things that I’ve 
done that | couldn’t have. | just... couldn't.” 


Three glanced up, his face ashen. “I... Do any of you remember 
me... being Hitler?” he asked. 


Seven raised his hand, nodding a little bit to the ashen faced man, 
then slowly lowered it. “Just as much as | remember recruiting 
Thirteen,” he said, jerking his head toward the other end of the table. 


One glanced up at the room, his assembled friends and family, 
everyone who had meant anything to him for the past century. 
“We're in agreement then?” he asked. “In spite of the 
consequences?” 


Everyone sat silently. 


“Well,” he said. “Let’s update our records...” 
Additional Information On Protocol ZK-001-Alpha 


MEMETIC KILL AGENT ENGAGED. THAUMIEL 
INITIATIVE ACTIVATED. 


Lux 


Timothy Dalton's young hands shook with the exuberance that only 
a child can feel. It had been two weeks to the day. To the day! And 
now, it should finally be here! He ran home, grinning the entire way, 
dragging his backpack behind him. 


He rushed to the mailbox, opening it and peering inside, his smile 
falling away. It was empty. He sighed, slowly dragging his bag after 
himself, walking up the step of his house. He dropped off his 
backpack on the kitchen table and got a glass of water, sipping it as 
his mother walked into the room, leaning over to kiss his head. 
When she stood back up, she frowned gently. "What's wrong, hun?" 
she asked. She only called him 'hun' when she wanted to be sweet 
to him. 


"Did I... get any mail today?" he asked. 


She shook her head. "Were you expecting something?" she asked. 
"You didn't sign up for something, did you?" she asked, more 
sternly. 


"N-no..." he lied. "| was just... hoping to hear from my penpal..." 


She didn't believe him, but his disappointment was enough to ease 
her anger. ‘Probably just a stupid mailing list again...' she thought. 
Already, he'd gotten Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, 
Scientologists... Ever since he'd learned his address, they'd been 
getting mail and fliers. 


She kissed his head again. "Maybe tomorrow..." she said. "Now, 
head up to your room and take care of your homework." 


He nodded, taking his bag and heading up the stairs, tossing it onto 
his bed. He walked over to his desk and sat at it, turning on the old 
computer his parents let him have, almost not noticing the box sitting 
to the left of it. 


It was wrapped in brown paper, with a string around it. It looked like 
a package out of a movie. With trembling hands, he reached for it, 
taking it and pulling off the paper quickly, stopping and tugging at 
the string, frustrated until it broke with a quick snap, opening it and 
seeing... 


It was beautiful. Shining silver—who cared if it was plastic?—with 
lights running up and down either side. It looked exactly like the 
picture. He pointed it out the window, pulling the trigger and grinning 
as all the lights flashed and a high pitched sound, just like from a 
movie, issued from it. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he 
slipped it into his pocket, hurrying out of his room and down the 
stairs again, shouting to his mother as he flew out the door: "I'll be at 
Johnny's house!" 


"What about your homework?" she shouted back, but he was 
already gone, running down the street, eager to show off his new 
acquisition.