Cameron Torren gave a sigh, took one last sip of coffee, and waited 
for the stage manager to give him the thumbs up. The signal came, 
and in a flash, he bolted out onto the set amid cheers and applause 
from the various people of Portland, Maine who made up his 
audience. Behind him, as he waved and smiled to the crowd, was 
the colorful sign that read: Mornings with Cameron Torren. He 
waited for the crowd's applause to finally die down, and then spoke. 


"Hello hello hello," he cheerfully greeted the men and women before 
him. "Welcome to our show today. We got a lot of great things 
planned, a lot of neat segments, but to start us off we have a very 
special guest in with us today." 


The lights in the room dimmed, and Cameron held up a flashlight 
under his chin. A few members of the audience giggled as he 
maintained a serious expression, allowing the camera in front of him 
to pan in before he continued. 


"Our guest," he said in a low voice, "is a local legend, and easily one 
of, if not the most, recognized names in horror..." 


Cameron then grinned and raised his voice. 
"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Stephen King!" 


The lights came on as the crowd cheered, a nerdy looking man 
wearing small glasses came onto the set and waved. As he 
approached Cameron, Stephen quickly turned to the audience and 
mouthed the word 'Boo!' and shook his hands. The two men then 
shook hands and sat down in the large arm chairs at the set's 
center. 


"Good to have you here today, Stephen," Cameron said with a 
smile. 


"Happy to be here," Stephen replied, returning the gesture with his 
own small grin. 


"| got to say, | thought you'd be a lot spookier in person..." 
"| try and tone it down a bit for these kinds of things." 


"And you succeed, mostly," Cameron ribbed. "So, Stephen, you 
don't need me to tell you about your success. With novels like 
Carrie, The Shining, It, Misery, and The Dark Tower series, you've 
easily made your mark on pop culture. And now, from what I've 
heard, you're commenting on the marks of others in your column, 
The Pop of King for Entertainment Weekly. Just where do you find 
all the time and inspiration?" 


"Well..." Stephen looked on thoughtfully, "a lot of things have 
inspired me in the past with my writing. But what recently | have 
found that has helped me is a certain book. | always keep my copy 
on me." 


"You brought this book in with you today then?" 
"| have!" 


Stephen King then pulled out a hard cover book from the bag he 
brought with him on stage, and laid it down on the coffee table. 
Cameron looked at the cover with interest, his eyes scanning the 
title. 


Star Signals 


Eric Harper kept his copy on his night stand, next to the engagement 
ring he had offered Jillian, only to have it given back. Despite the 
last year being enjoyable, she had told him, she was just not ready 
to make that kind of commitment. 


Needless to say, Eric was left crushed. Losing himself in his copy of 
Star Signals was a much-needed reprieve, and so far, had left him 
feeling much better about not only his situation with Jillian, but about 
his general existence. The words from the book echoed around in 
his mind as he sat in his living room, staring blankly at his wall. 


SCP-998: Missing Aircraft 


Item #: SCP-998 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: Area 998-Alpha has been 
established in a 20 km radius around the estimated event location of 
SCP-998. This area is marked as off-limits on all regional maps, and 
any civilian ships or aircraft attempting to enter the area must be 
waved off. A Foundation listening ship (currently SCPS Cerberus as 
of / /06) is stationed within Area 998-Alpha and tasked with 
monitoring local transmissions for evidence of an SCP-998 event. 


Description: SCP-998 is a MC-130E "Combat Talon" military 
transport formerly assigned to the United States Air Force 8th 
Special Operations Squadron with tail number and call sign 
"Blackbird One-Niner". SCP-998 disappeared without a trace on / 

/73 during a covert operation near [DATA EXPUNGED] along with 
five (5) crew members, three (3) passengers, and a classified cargo. 
Originally believed to have crashed under adverse weather 
conditions, a search for the wreckage of SCP-998 was conducted 
and called off three months later with no results. 


On //79, an anomalous radio transmission was detected by a US 
Navy patrol vessel near the last known location of SCP-998. After 
thorough analysis of the transmission and its contents, SCP-998 
was designated and containment protocols established. 


Since 1973, contact has been established 11 times with SCP-998. 
Addendum 998-1: SCP-998 Contact Log 


Date: //79 

Subject: USS __, US Navy patrol vessel 

Description: Initial contact. Contact was made for approximately 3 
minutes before signal was lost. The sender of the signal, confirmed 


This is good. It’s a blank slot waiting for you to fill it up 
with your deepest desire until your deepest desire is 
pushing up into your throat. You will gag on your need. 
And until you do, it is a resonation space, for you to build 
your will like organ music in a cathedral. Hear the music 
now. This is not a metaphor. If your will is strong enough, 
there will be music now. Remember now that nothing in 
this book is a metaphor. 


The void was there, and he had been filling it up with his deepest 
desire as the book had instructed. He had heard the music, and 
choked on his need. 


A knock on the door broke Eric's train of thought. He quietly 
answered, surprised to see Jillian standing there. He tilted his head 
slightly as she gave him a sad smile. 


"I've changed my mind..." she said, and threw her arms around him. 
"Yes!" 


Eric grinned like an idiot, his arms holding her tight. 


"It's all sideways from here," he whispered to her, and pecked her on 
the forehead. 


"| have to say I'm a little surprised, Stephen," Cameron commented 
as he looked at the book. "You're a top selling author, a household 
name even, why does the great Stephen King need a self-help 
book?" 


"Well, Cameron," Stephen replied, gesturing with his hands as he 
elaborated, "we all have voids to fill in our lives. You, these 
wonderful people here, and especially me. We all have voids in our 
lives and we need to fill them, and fill them with real fulfillment. And 
that's what | have found that this book does. It provides that real 
fulfillment that in turn fills the void." 


Sarah Ray kept her copy on her bookshelf, next to several other 
self-help books, diet manuals, and other guides on losing weight. 


Now, one week later and 200lbs lighter, in the best shape of her life, 
she was jogging through the park near her apartment. As she 
wrapped up the last part of a five-mile run, she couldn't help but grin. 
The world bending to one's will has that effect on people. 


In your current society, you are encouraged to “be 
yourself”, as if this is the key to making your desires real. 
What does that mean? It doesn’t mean anything. You 
can’t be anyone other than yourself. If you were to be 
someone else, you would still be “you”, and “you” would 
be someone who is someone else. There is no getting 
out from under existence. Because you can’t be anyone 
else, it stands to reason that, if you want change in your 
reality, it is the world that must change to suit you. You 
must mold your phenomenological landscape into one 
where all your goals are achieved. 


Now imagine that the place where your desires are made 
real has a name. It’s called the Fifth World. The Fifth 
World is the cosmos twisted around you into the shape 
you will wish for. It has never been, but you can make it 
so. If the current world is like a tight, collared suit, then 
the Fifth World is like a flowing robe that allows complete 
freedom of movement. You will never truly move before 
you move in the Fifth World. You'll feel like a square ona 
piece of paper who was only just tlaol about up and 
down. 


The Fifth World is a great place to be. Freedom of movement, both 
metaphysically and now, thanks to shedding what held me back, 
physically. Complete freedom of movement... 


Sarah thought to herself as she moved towards a drinking fountain. 
She took a long drink, and then turned to begin her walk back to her 
car, bumping into a fellow jogger as she turned. 


"Oh! Sorry!" he said quickly. "Are you okay?" 
"Just fine," she replied with a smile. 


"| don't think I've seen you out here before." 


"| just started today." 
"Ah," he said with a smile. "How are you liking the park so far?" 


"Oh, it's wonderful! I've really enjoy all the occidental paths, and the 
Zig-zagged leaves." 


The jogger looked at Sarah with a raised eyebrow. 
"What?" 


"The occidental paths. They've taken me past and future through 
here. You don't take the occidental paths? Where do you jog?" 


The jogger's mouth hung open for a second, then he shook his 
head. 


"Anyway... you, uh, yeah." 


The jogger took off running. Sarah watched him go with a small 
frown, then shrugged. There would be plenty more people to 
impress with her new physique. Especially now that she had tapped 
into the Fifth world. 


"So, Stephen," Cameron said tenting his fingers. "Could you tell us 
what we could expect to find in Star Signals?" 


Stephen chuckled and shook his head. 


"I'm afraid not, Cameron. The journey is what's so special about this 
particular book. If | simply told you what was what, the magic would 
be gone." 


"Yeah, but, Stephen..." Cameron raised his eyebrows in concern. 
"That’s where the skepticism comes in. So many of these self-help 
books are just wishful thinking hokum, how would we know that this 
is any different?” 


"Have you read it?" Stephen snapped back. Cameron flinched in his 
chair. 


"No... no | have not." 


"Then how would you know? Do you want to read it? I'd be more 
than willing to let you take my copy." 


"I'm considering it, but | really wish you'd elaborate, the audience 
should know there is something to this..." said Cameron as he 
rubbed the bridge of his nose. 


"That’s just the problem though, Cam!" Stephen exclaimed as he got 
up out of his chair. "You're still using your mud logic. You need to 
move onto the star logic. The star logic is what makes this book tick. 
The star logic is what will set you free!" 


Jamey White kept his copy on his coffee table, next to a pile of 
medical bills for his daughter Melissa. She had been diagnosed with 
leukemia quite a while back. He had spent countless nights working 
extra shifts, taking her to treatment the next morning, and then 
clocking back in again. However, despite his best efforts, the bills 
kept on piling up, and Melissa's health kept on worsening. He was at 
his wits end when a friend had lent him their copy of the book. Now, 
having finished it, Melissa's leukemia was in complete remission. 


Slon tlir na tlei obr Fifth. Tla slon Ipat plr children tln tlo 
sacp tlei. 


How true those words were... 


Jamey carried his daughter on his shoulders as they ran through the 
park. A wide, toothy grin was on his face. An expression of sheer 
terror was on his daughter's. 


"Flrin tro cnor, daughter," he exclaimed, the very grass beneath 
them seeming to dance as he pranced about with the light of his life 
sitting on his shoulders. "Tam tassrel cooroo tewrn!" 


She began to cry, holding on to his shoulders with all her strength. 


"Daddy..." she said as she began to cry, "I'm scared. Please... 
please daddy, stop talking like that." 


Jamey didn't hear her sobs, however; he was lost in ecstasy. His 
daughter was cured and free, and so was he. 


"Stephen, | think you need to..." Cameron began, the fear was 
present in his face as he sunk deeper in his chair for shelter. 


"| will not be lectured to by the mud logic!" Stephen shouted back, 
and then smiled and turned to the audience. "They will not be 
lectured anymore either!" 


Stephen then grabbed a coffee mug off the table between him and 
Cameron and tossed it. The mug made a dull thud as it crashed off 
Cameron's head and shattered to the floor. Cameron and the chair 
he was in toppled over backwards. The talk show host held his head 
in pain briefly before slowly getting back to his feet. 


"Tlka keyto dorznk!" Stephen said as he turned his attention back to 
Cameron. 


"Christ, Stephen, what the hell has gotten into you?!?" 


Stephen then grabbed the other mug off the table and lobbed it at 
his host. Cameron dodged, watching it smash in an explosion of 
shards on the backdrop. He fell silent as he watched Stephen point 
to him and then gesture for him to come over. Instead, Cameron ran 
off stage. Stephen shrugged and turned his attention back to the 
audience. 


"Where the hell is security?" Cameron asked his stage manager, 
turning back to watch Stephen spew forth a series of gibberish as he 
flipped the coffee table and the other chair. The stage manager 
pointed across the set to where the security guards currently stood. 
Both of them were blank faced and motionless as they watched 
Stephen King continue to unfurl. 


"Now, ladies and gentlemen," Stephen addressed his captivated 
audience. "I can't tell you what's in the book, but | can tell you 
that Star Signals will expand your eyes and open your mind..." 


"What the hell is happening? Are we even still rolling?" Cameron 


inquired, briefly looking away from the train wreck taking place 
before them. 


"We stopped after he threw the coffee mug at you,” the stage 
manager replied. "Then the cameras started again. Jeff can't get 
them to shut down." 


"It is the sledgehammer to break your soul, and the tape and 
glue you use to reform the shards into something better! 
Something that allows your desires to spew forth like a wind of 
bees..."" Stephen continued to speak at the audience, his tone 
becoming more ecstatic with each passing syllable. 


"Have we tried calling anyone?" Cameron asked. 
"Phones are dead..." the stage manager replied. 
"We could send a runner..." 

"The doors won't budge..." 


"Kindling that will spark a blaze in your spine, and send your 
very consciousness skyward like a divine firework, destined to 
explode among the deepest regions of time..." 


Cameron and his stage manager locked eyes. Both men carried 
expressions of terror. 


"Mr. Torrens," the stage manager continued, "I don't know what Mr. 
King is doing, but | think we are stuck here until he's done... if he 
ever finishes..." 


“Ladies and gentlemen, please check below your seats!" 


Cameron turned his attention back to the show. Stephen stood mid- 
stage with his arms held aloft. The members of the audience began 
to pull copies of Star Signals out from below their chairs, applauding 
their new host for his generous gift. Stephen then turned his 
attention backstage, a crooked grin on his face as he beckoned 
Cameron to come back out. 


"I'm not going back out there..." Cameron said under his breath as 


he violently shook his head. 
"But you have to..." 


Cameron jumped as he blinked and found Stephen standing beside 
him, a hand on his shoulder. 


"It would mean the world to me if you'd recommend the book to your 
viewers at home," Stephen cooed. "Your audience loves it. | love it. 
In time and space, | think you too would love it." 


"And if, ah, if | don't..." Cameron whispered. "What are you going to 
do to me?" 


"Not a damn thing," Stephen cackled, causing Cameron to cringe. 
"The question you need to ask is what are you going to do to you if 
you don't recommend this book." 


Stephen pressed a copy into Cameron's hands. Despite everything, 
the weight in his hands made it feel enticing. A sense of exhilaration 
and fear wiggled its way through his mind as he looked over the 
cover again. 


Star Signals 
"First chapter is always the hardest!" Stephen chuckled.