"And this escape fleet of ‘fifty score great vessels'?" asked 
Pendergast. 


"It wasn't until relatively modern times that fleets could be expected 
to weather storms without losing a ship or two," Rex said, "Or for 
that matter, to be almost completely wiped out by storms." 


Pendergast returned to his desk. "So you honestly think there's no 
threat here," he said. 


"General, the chances of anything coming to wipe us out are a 
million to one," Rex replied smugly. 


Thank you, Ogilvy, Pendergast thought, trying not to smile at the 
apparently unintentional irony of Rex's choice of phrase. "Alright, 
Doctor, SCP-1050 isn't what we've previously believed it to be, then 
what is it?" 


"| don't know," Rex admitted, "but just because | can't provide an 
alternative doesn't mean the Foundation's current guess is anything 
other than speculative bullshit - imaginative speculative bullshit, to 
be sure, but bullshit nonetheless." 


Pendergast shook his head and looked up. "I hope you're right," he 
replied. "I'll forward your report. Dismissed, Doctor." As Rex left, 
Pendergast muttered to himself, "| hope you're right." 


SCP+MLP=DNC 


Something dreadfully wrong had just occurred within the SCP 
Foundation. The Head of Otherworldly Matters Department could 
feel it. He leaned back in his chair, and tried to determine which of 
the "they have screwed up royally" feelings he was getting this time. 
It certainly wasn't a containment breach - those were far, far more 
panicky - and it wasn't death on a massive scale. It was something 
that had gone wrong in... his department. 


Slamming his forehead on the desk a few times, he shook himself 
off and prepared for the inevitable moment when someone would 
burst into the office, acting like they were asking for help when they 
damn well knew they were just demanding it from a man who was 
very, very busy and was just trying to get through the day's 
paperwork so he could sleep without something plaguing his mind! 


Sure enough, a panicked lab assistant barged through his door 
shouting, "Sir, sir! Urgent situation in Experiment Chamber Sixteen! 
The head of the project sent me here to..." 


"No, no, let me save you some breath!" said the Head, raising his 
hands and widening his eyes in mock surprise. "You breached 
through the wall of some dimension using some SCP that logically 
shouldn't be capable of doing that, but somehow did, and now you 
need me to sort things out because you aren't competent enough to 
do it yourselves. Did | miss anything?" 


"Well, actually sir," said the assistant, trying to get himself back in 
order, "you did miss the part where we were conducting an 
experiment without your permission, but other than that, you're 
pretty much spot on." 


The Department Head groaned and pressed his hands to his face. 
"I'd shoot you chucklefucks in the face myself if it weren't for..." he 
mumbled, seething quietly. The lab assistant stood shuffling his feet 
while the Head desperately tried to keep his hands away from his 


throat. At length, he took a deep breath and asked, "What's the 
emergency?" 


"Well, sir, while we were testing SCP-826 with some of the 
anomalous materials we recovered during the last testing session, 
when the door to the closet manifested the properties of the object, 
even though it wasn't targeted in that direction. Doctor Richmand 
opened it up, and we were assaulted by three chest-high equine 
beings, one of which appeared to be winged, though not in the 
manner of SCP-042." 


"After we confirmed ourselves as friendly, it was determined that 
these creatures were in the possession of speech, and..." 


"Oh, stop pussyfooting around the issue," snapped the Department 
head. "You bastards broke through into the My Little Pony universe. 
Again." The lab assistant nodded his head quickly. 


Jesus Christ, this was what, the fourth time this month he'd had to 
put up with something like this? The idiots had always managed to 
do something like this in the past through various means, but 
repeatedly breaking through the same barrier? After repeated 
confirmations of the stupid thing being completely healed? That tore 
it; starting tomorrow, they weren't allowed to conduct any 
experiments unless a doctor hand-picked by him was standing 
watch. 


A thought occurred to him. Turning to the lab assistant, he said, 
"Look, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. No matter how 
mind-bogglingly stupid you lot are, I'm going to say that this isn't 
your fault, and that it's them who keep breaking the barrier." 


"Th-that seems like a pretty good assumption, sir..." the assistant 
murmured, his eyes darting back and forth while beads of sweat 
formed on his brow. 


"So if we want to keep this from happening, and to prevent such 
gross wastes of my time from popping up so often, we just promise 
to give them what they want, and hope they go away for good." 


The lab assistant coughed. "I'm afraid that's not entirely possible 


sir." Stumbling back from the evil eye the Head gave him, he quickly 
said, "They want us to send large amounts of troops because their 
best hope against a god of chaos failed! Considering the general 
nature of 826, I'm not sure that's feasible!" 


The Department Head stood stunned for a few moments, before 
walking over to the nearest wall and kicking it. "God-fuck-dammit!" 
he shouted. " We've dealt with that damned place enough to know 
how its story goes, and that is not how it goes! You didn't just break 
into the My Little Pony universe, you broke into the fan-fiction 
universe! Do you have any fucking idea what that means?" The lab 
assistant, who had now backed himself into a corner, shook his 
head. 


"It means somebody did this deliberately. It means somebody's 
trying to start up a crossover." 


Striding over to his desk, the Department Head pushed a button to 
start the intercom. Speaking in an icy, barely-restrained voice, he 
said, "Attention all members of the Otherworldly Matters 
Department. This is your boss speaking. It has just come to my 
attention that one of you morons decided it would be a good idea to 
increase our workload by deliberately starting up a crossover with 
another universe. Allow me to reiterate why, here at the SCP 
Foundation, we don't fucking do that. 


"We've got close to two thousand objects to contain at this point in 
time, which, as you may imagine, requires a crap-ton of resources to 
do. We face death in the face practically every day, just so this world 
can go on thinking that everything's normal, and that the biggest 
threat to their existence is some insurgent group in the Middle East. 
It's a hard fucking job. 


"Now tell me: Who here thinks that it's a good idea to break the walls 
of our existence, and drag someone else's problems here? 
Especially problems from a universe where things beyond even our 
power exist, or, God forbid, problems we can't deal with because 
that universe is instantly fatal to us? 


"| can't hear you since I'm on the intercom, and | really, really want 
to say, 'None of you,’ but | can't. Do you know why?" He paused for 


dramatic effect. "It's because one of you imbeciles decided it was a 
good idea to write..." He took on an exceptionally sarcastic, 
disgusted tone, "'Friendship is Magic’ fan-fiction, and insert it into a 
highly dangerous device that can do something like, oh, | don't 
know... break the walls of this fucking universe! 


His chest heaving, he decided to wrap it up. "In short, stop trying to 
make your jobs harder than they already are. Just because some 
place looks all sugar-coated and crap like that, doesn't mean we 
need to get involved with it. We've got an unkillable thing that wants 
to suck on all our skulls, for Christ's sake..." 


Taking his finger off of the button, the Department Head turned back 
to the lab assistant. "Go back to your doctors and researchers, and 
tell them that hell is about to rain down on their heads." 


The lab assistant stammered, "Wh.. what are you going to do sir?" 


Sitting back down at this desk, the Department Head began typing a 
series of orders. "Those ponies are going back to their universe 
without any goddamned help from us. Let them deal with that 
dragon-chaos-god-thing. The man who wrote that tale is going to 
have his brains blown out for violating..." He counted. "Seven major 
Foundation codes. Everyone involved in the experiment is being 
reassigned to departments where they can't do shit like that 
anymore. You, I'm contemplating something worse, for lying to me 
about the circumstances under which this happened." 


He leaned back in his chair. "And I'm taking two aspirins and going 
to bed." 


The lab assistant, cold sweat pouring down his back, bowed and left 
the room as quickly as he could. The Department Head sighed to 
himself. "Fucking crossovers... Been like this ever since Darkblade 
got those wizard kids in here..." 


Bellerverse 


* The List Of Wonders 

¢ The Seeker 

¢ SCP-One Million 

* The Book 

¢ The Word 

¢ Addressing the Second 

¢ Learning 

* Those You Leave Behind 
* Denouement and Epilogue 
* The Brave Little— 
Prologue: Digital Children 
¢ For the RE-PUBLIC 


Welcome to the end of the world. 


Well, not the world, as such. Planet Earth's spinning by just as well 
as it's done for the past few billion years. 


And it's not even the end of life on Earth. Sure, there have been 
some extinctions, but plenty of animals are still kicking, like rabbits, 
dingos, and dolphins. Hi, dolphins! 


Really, calling the mere extinction of 99.9999997% of humanity the 
end of the world is pretty melodramatic, when you think about it. 


So, call it the end of the world as we know it. All civilization was 
wiped out. Every last human on Earth died. There was nobody left. 


Except... Earth isn't the only place humans can be. The Foundation 
had hide-aways prepared for just this possibility. And so a few 
thousand humans-researchers, agents, and Class-D personnel were 
spared the disaster. And after a short time, they came out, and 
looked at the world that was left. 


They were based out of Site-23. A few stragglers from other places, 


other hide-aways, arrived. But Site-23 had the largest population 
base of survivors, so it became the new home of mankind. And 
civilization started anew. With the Foundation in charge. 


Oh my. 


They knew that a lot of things would of necessity be lost (though it's 
unlikely they suspected how much). So they worked on making 
things safe for their descendants. The Class Ds were set to work 
rebuilding (with various controls devised by Doctor Mann and Doctor 
Rights), while strike teams led by the likes of Clef, Strelnikov, and 
Kondraki cleared out new threats. Because this is the SCP-universe, 
and there are worse things in Australia than dingos. There are 
monsters, anomalies, and all sorts of unpleasantness. Gradually, 
they made the land... not safe. It would never be safe, not for many, 
many years. But safe enough. 


But there were costs to be paid. Site 23 was lost when SCP-682 
arrived. To trap the creature, they used SCP-184, the Architect, to 
get it lost deep in endless tunnels, with Agent Strelnikov as bait. 


Other researchers went rogue and were driven out. Mann, 
Kondraki... Others, too. Even the ones who stayed were changed. 
They used the anomalous items much more readily. What was the 
point of protecting society, when society was already destroyed? 
There were fights. Splinter groups. 


Eventually, the peoples were split into warring tribes, and more and 
more knowledge of the past was lost. 


That was thousands of years ago. History has faded into legend. 
The researchers and agents who saved humanity became the 
common pantheon of the new religion (with variations throughout the 
land). 


Geography 


Geography is still fairly loose, with few defined places. Most of the 
continent is much greener than it was in our time. The climate's 
changed greatly, and there are plains, forests, even rainforest where 
there was once only desert. Civilization varies greatly from one 


SCP-593: Contagious Innumeracy 


Item #: SCP-593 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-593 is to be stored under 
standard Biosafety Level 4 precautions at all times. Use of a hazmat 
suit with self-contained oxygen supply is mandatory; entry and exit 
to any lab containing samples of SCP-593 must include multiple 
showers, ultraviolet light bombardment, a vacuum room, and 
regularly tested, electronically secured airlocks. Individuals 
suspected of infection with SCP-593 must be isolated from the 
general population under BSL-4 protocols immediately and kept in a 
darkened environment until the maximum infectivity and incubation 
period have both passed, generally a period of thirty days. Medical 
treatment of confirmed SCP-593 victims requires observation of 
BSL-4 protocols and the immediate incineration or immersion in acid 
of all materials with which the victims have had contact, along with 
any/all biological waste produced. 


Description: SCP-593 is a paramyxovirus of the genus Morbillivirus 
that exhibits a unique capacity for severe neurological damage after 
the onset of primary symptoms. The majority of its genome is 
identical to that of the measles virus, with a significant percentage of 
genetic material apparently derived from rinderpest virus (aka ‘cattle 
plague’ or ‘steppe murrain’). Its contagion rate is equal to that of 
measles- ninety percent of individuals without immunity who share a 
household with an SCP-593 morbillivirus patient will develop the 
infection themselves within thirty days. Initial stages of infection are 
virtually identical to measles, beginning with a fever that may reach 
as high as 41° C. Koplik's spots appear on the victim's buccal and 
lingual mucosae early in the infection; unlike standard measles 
infections, however, the spots remain visible for two to three days. 


Several days after the fever begins and conjunctivitis sets in, the 
victim's body is quickly covered in a generalized, erythematous, 


place to another, ranging from tribes hardly into the bronze age to 
the city people to the east, who are now firmly into the iron age (with 
a few having discovered the secret of steel). 


The city people live, as their name suggests, in city-states. They 
war, trade, make alliances, and generally make bothers of 
themselves. They are more willing than the tribesmen to raid the old 
ruins for treasures (though it's still considered a very dangerous, 
cursed enterprise). They've rediscovered the principles of 
agriculture. They're starting to expand, but there's still a great deal of 
empty land in the east, meaning that they haven't expanded into 
other territories much. Yet. 


The tribesman live throughout the rest of the continent, and are a 
varied lot. Some of them are nomadic, while others have permanent 
settlements. They tend to avoid old ruins and places where strange 
things live. That said, they're also much more likely to encounter 
such things. It's not unusual to find a tribesman selling his services 
to the city people. 


There are also people inhabiting the islands around Australia. 
Humans aren't anywhere near taking their planet back, but they've 
taken their first steps. Whether or not they succeed.... 


Oh, and a note on the people. It was a pretty varied lot who survived 
in Site 23, and they've been living for several thousand years in 
Australia. Selective pressures have darkened their skin pretty well. 
There's still some variation, especially in hair and eye color, but 
almost everyone has darker skin. 


Now, there's one other important place. No one, not city people, not 
tribesmen, will go to the south willingly. That's the home of the 
Everman. It's patrolled by the walking dead, the New Men, and other 
monsters he's collected over the years.