SCP-1840-J: Yeah, we'll call it a round one 
thousand. And that is a low, low price because 
I’m feeling so generous today. You'll be doing 
me a favour, friend, what with my dog filing for 
divorce and my wife at the vet. | mean—oh, 
whatever. | was lying. Alright, we'll call it eight 
hundred and that’s a scandal, it really is. 


Dr. Richter: Is this some sort of prank? 
Researcher Daley! Trace this call immediately! 
What is your name, sir? | am a senior 
researcher at this facility, and | will not stand 
for juvenile— 


SCP-1840-J: Oh, twist my arm! Five. Five 
hundred. Final offer. We’re talking a genuine 
fossilized Tyrannosaur bone here. Once ina 
lifetime stuff. You really can’t put a price on the 
pride of owning the remains of a vicious super- 
predator. Well, | did it anyway and it’s a round 
four hundred. Last chance. 


Dr. Richter: | have no intention of buying 
anything, and when | find out who is the 
perpetrator of this childish prank, you will be 
extremely sorry! Good day to you! 


[CALL ENDS] 

+ Log 1840B SCP-1840 Second Contact 
[CALL BEGINS 16:12 14/08/ ] 
Researcher Davis: Uh, hi? 


SCP-1840-J: Hey there, miss! Now, | have 
quite the little gem for a sweet young lady like 
yourself. Alright, consider this—for the price of 
a mere thousand pounds, you, little lady, could 
be the owner of the gift of beauty. Ultra rare. 
Especially around these parts. 


Researcher Davis: Oh—Christ. Is this one of 
those confidence boost things? Like you direct 
me to a mirror or something and there’s a 
message saying ‘Ta-Da! You’re already 
beautiful! or something? Because that’s just— 


SCP-1840-J: Actually it's more of an injected 
nanotechnological genetic resequencer, but | 
could set up that mirror thing too if you like. | 
could set up all kinds of motivational 
messages if you want. ‘We Know What We’re 
Doing, Honestly’, that would be good for 
Foundation employees. ‘How Can Lead 
Researchers Sleep at Nights? They Don't.’ 
Hey, I’m good at this. | can print. We'll call it 
fifty for a pack of a hundred messages. Hey, 
and you'll feel good without a risk of nanobots 
consuming your face. Forget | said that. 


Researcher Davis: Hey, whoever you are, 
this isn’t funny. It really isn’t. | can’t help being 


SCP-1840-J: Yeah, you’re right. You people 
have no idea what you’re doing, do you? And 
sleep-deprivation-related mania probably isn’t 
funny either. Alright, scrap that. This 
resequencer thing’s still on offer though. The 
girlfriend used it. Completely unrecognisable. 
In a good way. Gorgeous eyes. Amazing hair. 
Great body. She could have any man she 
wanted. Probably why she left me. Seriously, 
you'll kick yourself forever if you turn this 
down. What do you say? 


Researcher Davis: [sarcastically] Oh sure. 
Can you send me a free sample? 


SCP-1840-J: No can do, I’m afraid. It’s all 
sealed together in a magnetic storage core to 
stop the nanobots...look, the nanobots can get 


pretty vicious. They'll resequence anything’s 
genes. They got to my dog once. Spliced it 
with a millipede. Vision of hell. Fast, though, 
and sticks to walls, so | suppose that’s 
something. Anyway, It’s all or nothing. Okay, 
seven hundred. C’mon, you believe me right? 
You work for the Foundation. You know this 
universe has the pants of insanity firmly on its 
head. Gene-resequencing nanobots are 
practically normal. Six hundred pounds for a 
lifetime of beauty. Waddaya say? 


Researcher Davis: [sarcastically] Yeah, yeah. 
Leave it in the park at midnight and I'll collect 
it. Hoot like an owl or something. 


SCP-1840-J: Perfect! Excellent. | knew you 
were a girl with taste. Can’t thank you enough. 
Damn Harlequin’s breathing down my neck. 
We'll keep it covert. Dead drop. I'll leave the 
containment core under the green bridge in the 
park two blocks away. And get it quickly, the 
nanobots are restless recently. Cannibalized 
my phone and spliced it with my neighbour’s 
weasel. Unusual, but still highly functional. 


Researcher Davis: Jesus Christ, you sound 
completely serious. You think I’m going to go 
to the park and grub around under a bridge for 
your ‘containment core’? You think | want to 
get spliced with a fly? 


SCP-1840-J: They recognise human tissue. 
You'll be fine. Completely fine! I’m serious 
about getting this core though. These 
nanobots are sadistic bastards. They'll splice 
anything together. Swans, squirrels, and 
children nearby. Dread to think. Anyway, 
pleasure doing business with you! 


[CALL ENDS] 


SCP-043 [shouting, during song]: Stop it! Stop it! 
(SCP-537 raises volume.) 

SCP-043 [shouting, during song]: [DATA EXPUNGED] 
(SCP-043 is removed from the room as per its own 
request.) 


SCP-043, unsurprisingly, was not willing to discuss its reaction to 
SCP-537, simply referring to it as "that cheeky thing", and 
mentioning that "it's the type that needs to learn to be careful if it 
doesn't want to [DATA EXPUNGED]." 


Document #537-2: Experiment 537/043-2 


SCP-043 was placed, after reluctantly agreeing to do so, under 
SCP-537's needle. When asked how it was feeling, SCP-537 played 
the first eight tracks of "The White Album" by The Beatles (it should 
be noted that it is unusual for SCP-537 to play a song on the record 
it is turning, let alone several songs in the proper order). After the 
eighth track, rather than record stopping or "Revolution 9" playing, 
the record began to skip. A loud noise, described as "somewhere 
between a record scratch and a shriek" was heard and did not stop 
until the needle was forced up. 


SCP-043 refused to speak of the incident, saying only that it never 
wanted to be near SCP-537 again. SCP-537 reacted similarly; when 
asked its opinion of SCP-043, it responded by playing George 
Carlin's routine "Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television". 


Addendum A: Since Experiment 537/043-2, SCP-537 has flatly and 
consistently refused to play any song by The Beatles, responding 
each time by raising and lowering its needle twice. When asked 
multiple times to do so, SCP-537 reacts angrily. Dr. 


Addendum B: Speculation as to whether or not SCP-537 is capable 
of playing songs from vinyls released after its construction (the date 
of which is unknown) has been settled as of a recent interview, 
which it ended by playing "Caring is Creepy" from "Oh, Inverted 
World" by The Shins, an album released on vinyl in June of 2004; 
this is interpreted as SCP-537's way of expressing its apathy 
towards the interview. 


Researcher Davis has been commended for her prompt 
containment of the item now dubbed SCP- and not 
using it for her own purposes. However, several 
nanobots escaped, leading to the creation of several 
cases of SCP- 


SCP-1840-J claims to be an extremely wealthy human in 
possession of a large collection of anomalous artifacts. It frequently 
alludes to being pursued by a being it identifies as an ‘Unbound 
Harlequin’, forcing him to sell the collection in the hope of being 
harder to trace. 


The known and recorded interactions of SCP-1840 with the 
Foundation began with two telephone calls, accumulating in a five- 
part interview with Ex-Researcher Richter, after which all 
interactions were recorded but have grown increasingly sporadic 
after Incident 1840-A 


+ Interview Log 1840P (Item: SCP-1840-A) 


SUBJECT: SCP-1840 
INTERVIEWER: Dr. Richter 
TIME/DATE: 13:08 20/09/ 


SCP-1840-J: Hey—HEY, Doc! You're looking 
good today, very, very, red-faced and angry. 
Outstanding. You're going to love what I’ve got 
for you today. 


Dr. Richter: Shut it, you bastard. You’ve been 
harassing me for months now! Quit the games! 
How did you learn of this organisation and 
facility? How did you learn about me? You 
may as well give it up and tell me. Our 
resources are vast. We will find you! 


SCP-1840-J: That’s adorable, Doc. Okay, 
okay—let me start with a question. How’s the 
wife? 


Dr. Richter: She’s dead. 


SCP-1840-J: That’s fantastic. Out on the prowl 
again, eh, Doc? Rawr! Watch out ladies! But 
let’s talk business. | have something that will 
make you completely irresistible. You'll love 
this. Guess how insects tell each other they’re 
in the mood? Pheromones! They can hardly 
help themselves when that stuff gets in the air! 
Amazing! Except humans don’t communicate 
through pheromones. Whatever. Doesn't 
matter. Someone went ahead and invented the 
human romance pheromone anyway, and it’s 
as potent as hell. Beats cologne any day. I’m 
just throwing this out there, Doc, as you are— 
how can | put this delicately?—really, really fat. 
You'll need it. I’ve got my entire stock up for 
sale. About one litre. You'll be partying with a 
hundred sensuous beauties before you know 
it. And for you, my favourite customer? A mere 
six thousand. 


Dr. Richter: | am saying this one last time: | 
will not purchase anything from you at any 
time, and | would ask you to never contact me 
again! Now! This is an interview, and | demand 
answers! Question one: How many, if any, 
Foundation personnel have purchased items 
through you, and if so, what are their names 
and what did they purchase? 


SCP-1840-J: Oh, I’ve sold about...four items. 
Yes. Four. First one was to a delightful young 
lady. Purchased a nanotechnological genetic 
resequencer. Fantastic sale. One of my 
favourites. | got rid of that damn thing, and | 
think you managed to hunt down all the 
genetic hybrids before they did too much 
damage. Excellent job. | did warn her about 
the importance of containing the nanobots 
properly, but the swan people threw the 
Harlequin off my tracks for a while, so actually 


everything turned out fine. 


Dr. Richter: You...you mean the cases of 
SCP- ? We had to shoot them down! They 
all died! Were you responsible? Answer me! 


SCP-1840-J: Yeah, It was probably less fine 
from where they were sitting. Whatever. Okay, 
so you don’t want the pheromones? Too bad. 
How about this then: This very special tabloid 
newspaper. Plenty of pictures. Except it 
doesn't show celebrities doing real things, it 
shows the stuff you wish they did. Secret 
homosexual affairs. Satan worship. Punch- 
ups. Actually being interesting people. It’s like 
you have the dirt on everyone. E-mail the 
pictures off to the tabloids. You’ll make a mint. 
The celebrities will deny everything, and 
explain how they couldn't possibly be doing 
this stuff, but everyone will just think that 
means it must be true. Don’t you want to rub 
successful people’s faces in the mud a little 
bit? Just a little? Doc? Admit it. You do. We're 
talking a round one K here. Completely, 
completely, non-negotiable. Alright. Five 
hundred. 


Dr. Richter: [silent for several seconds] 
Alright. You sold one anomalous item, 
responsible for the creation of cases of SCP- 

, to an unknown female. Very well. | think 
that concludes this session... 


+ Interview Log 1840Q (Item: SCP-1840-B) 


SUBJECT: SCP-1840-J 
INTERVIEWER: Dr. Richter 
TIME/DATE: 5:02 23/09/ 


SCP-1840-J: Why hel-lo, Dr. Richter! The 
slayer of incorrectly filed Incident Reports! The 


man of a million calories! Seriously now, it’s 
good seeing you, it really is. Say, you know 
what you look like? A man who is irritated 
about the wide prevalence of stars in this 
galaxy. This will become important later. 


Dr. Richter: Good morning, SCP-1840. We 
are resuming the interview we had three days 
ago. And, to recap, | will never, ever, 
purchase, borrow, rent, or lease any item, 
entity or being from you or associated third 
parties. Do not attempt to sell me anything. | 
trust we can talk professionally this time? 


SCP-1840-J: Let me answer that question with 
another question. You’re kind of a pathetic 
angry dickwad, aren’t you? Hear me out. Your 
colleagues laugh at you. Your superiors bully 
you. Deep down, Doc, you’re probably thinking 
‘My God! What does it take to get some 
RESPECT around here?’ Well, I'll tell you: 
extraterrestrial doomsday devices. THAT will 
make your colleagues sit up and take notice. 
This [EXPLETIVE] is brilliant. Genuine, 
honest-to-God, Solar-System-destroying stuff. 
It can force a supernova through a series of 
focusing wormholes until you have pencil-thin 
beam of matter arriving at 98% the speed of 
light. Someone gets in the way of that? Blip! 
Dog meat. Them and anything within the 
surrounding three light years. ‘Ethics?’ you 
may say. ‘Morality?’ ‘Justice?’ | like to answer 
those questions with ‘l command a star- 
destroying directed energy cannon. Get the 
hell offa my lawn, Ethics.’ We'll start at a 
hundred K. A steal. No, really, It’s stolen. If the 
Pattern Screamer gets wind of it, well, there is 
a slight risk of messy extradimensional death. 


Dr. Richter: Believe me, | have become quite 


accustomed to these interruptions. Refer your 
offer along to Doctor Seaward. Now. | believe 
we were dealing with the third item you 
successfully sold. I’d like you to describe the 
item you sold, and the person you sold it to. 


SCP-1840-J: Huh? Oh yeah. Right. Second 
person was a...Researcher. Tom. Or was it 
Tim? Can’t remember. Wanted a new pet for 
his daughter. Something exotic. Well...1 had 
this dog that was spliced with a millipede. Long 
story. His daughter adores it though. And the 
parents loved how brilliantly it was received by 
the neighbours. They all moved away and 
never came back. He can’t thank me enough. 
Made a sweet two thousand off that thing. And 
to think | once thought it an abomination and 
tried to shoot it. How foolish | was. I’m afraid 
that was my only millipede dog, but I’ve got 
this weasel spliced with a phone if you'd like it. 
Cute. Functional. Nibbles your ear. Purrs when 
you send a text. We'll call it a tenner. If you 
want more genetic abominations, I’m gonna 
have to need my nanobots back. 


Dr. Richter: So that’s one SCP entity, of 
minimal threat level, currently in the custody of 
two unknown Foundation researchers and a 
juvenile, the male researcher possibly named 
‘Tom’ or ‘Tim’. Very well. [sighs] We'll come 
back to that. The third item you sold was what 
alerted us to your presence. You sold an 
anomalous artifact to a 24-year-old male 
employed by the Foundation as a Junior 
Researcher in studies relating to SCP- .| 
would like you to discuss these events in your 
own words. 


+ Interview Log 1840R (Item: SCP-1840-C) 


[This log has been cross-filed with Incident Report 


SCP-1840-J: Oh yeah. That was a good one. | 
wasn't on the sell that time, | was just relaxing 
back at home with a drink in hand. Completely 
shagged out after another day on the run from 
the Harlequin. Had to lie low in a strip club for 
eight hours. Grueling, man. Well, like | said, | 
was at home, when your Researcher... 


Dr. Richter: Mr. T. Wales. 


SCP-1840-J: Right, Terry. He phones me up. 
Said he got my number from someone. Wants 
to know if I’ve got anything that'll get him a 
promotion. ‘I've been slaving away studying 
SCP- for three years now’ he says to me ‘1 
want a promotion and a transfer. I’ve got cash.’ 
So | hunt through my collection, and guess 
what? Performance-enhancing drugs. Origins 
and manufacturer unknown. Six syringes ina 
plastic box, marked ‘Batch 1679’ and 
‘Evolutionary Stimulus. Testing only.’ Well, I’d 
managed to shake the Unbound Harlequin 
around Prague, but she was on my scent 
again and at this stage I’m not going to be all 
picky over safety. He had the money and was 
willing. Sold it. Hundred pounds. 


Dr. Richter: Are you aware of what happened 
next?