Diseases, in the context of pop culture, are often viewed as the 
quick, easy solution to an alien invasion. One notable example is 
H.G. Wells' The War of the Worlds, in which bacterial infections kill 
off the entire invading HE force. Though it makes an excellent deus 
ex machina, bacterial infections would likely be of little danger to 
HEs. As it was previously mentioned, Europeans lived in much more 
dense, crowded cities than Native Americans, and it is just as likely 
that HEs would live in much more dense, crowded cities than human 
beings. This, coupled with several thousand to millions of extra 
years of development would result in far more deadly diseases to 
which we would have no immunity. Even if the HEs exhibited a 
crippling weakness to human disease, the advanced medical 


technology in their possession would quickly solve the problem. 


All hope, however, would not be lost in such a scenario. Just as 
many people today fail to receive vaccination against illnesses which 
are no longer common (foremost among them smallpox), it can be 
presumed that HEs would have failed to continue immunization 
efforts against diseases they considered eradicated. By recreating 
the disease, or at least introducing one very similar to it, a major 
outbreak could be triggered, much like a smallpox outbreak today. 
Sabotage of medical equipment and selective assassination of 
medical professionals would further progress of the disease. 


On a final note, in the event of contact with HEs, our species will 
likely be viewed as "lesser", despite any attempts to prove 
otherwise. Evidence for such an idea is seen in the multitude of 
explanations given by religious and government officials to justify the 
extermination and enslavement of Native Americans, among them a 
lack of a soul, a need to be "civilized", and that the conquest was 
God's will. HEs will view humans on the whole in the same light, and 
treat our species as such. We must be prepared for this moral 
system, and use it to our advantage. In retaliation, we must 
remember that an overt attack by HEs would not be a war for hearts 
and minds, but for all out conquest. We must not make the same 
mistakes made by the Aztecs, Inca, and countless others. 


Lessons Learned 


On a day a few decades ago, a group of mundane mortals 
mistakenly thought that they could categorize the concept of 
knowledge. That they could contain the nexus of worlds, that the 
Foundation could lock up the platonic concept of a Library. 


It was a learning experience, at least. 


On that day, a Doctor pored over notes and maps, looking out the 
window of the temporary base of operations that had been set up for 
the incursion. 


Not an invasion, not an assault. An incursion. That’s the phrasing 
the Doctor preferred. Ideally it’ll be more or less a scouting mission, 
something to gauge the relative scale of the Library. 


Three groups, coming from three separate points. Triangles were 
meaningful shapes, right? The researchers weren't sure if they were 
or not. They weren't entirely sure of any of this, as a matter of fact. 


Of course, only the very top of the command chain knew that. 
Everyone else was told that there were measured risks involved. It 
wasn't exactly a /ie. Just stretching the truth. 


Everybody took their stations, three entrances in three doorways in 
three small towns. Each in contact with the others, each planned to 
the minute. 


The Library was as it always is. | would say it was a day like any 
other, if there were proper days in the Library. Or, at least, across 
the entire Library. Sometimes night is necessary. 


The Library bustled as they always did. Sweeping, grand shelves 
stretching for miles, stocked with the knowledge of eternity; some 
towered higher than the sky, others were barely a foot stool’s height. 


Every so often one might stumble across a small clearing, filled with 
couches or tables or whatever else the Library’s visitors brought 
from elsewhere. 


Speaking of which, at any given time beings from across time and 
space were scattered across the stacks, each unique but also not. 
An unfortunate alchemist, a skittish goblin, a peculiar cat, a soulless 
shapeshifter, an actual alien, a literal deer, a blindfolded witch - so 
many different lives meeting in the nexus of knowledge. 


Throughout the Library stood Doors, each unique in itself, and each 
a literal Door to innumerable Ways. Each Way had its own Knock, 
and each Knock was unique in itself. Nothing was repeated in the 
Library, except when it was. 


There was one corner of the Library, like most others, a clearing with 
a few tables and desks whose origins spanned across hundreds of 
years. This was one of many sitting soaces, and normally wouldn’t 
be of special note in the Library; that is, until the moment a certain 
Door opened. 


There was a hard, fast Knock on a tall wooden door set between two 
shelves. It looked as if it could be set in a farmhouse or old church, 
dusty and worn and heavy, heavy wood. It creaked a bit before a 
heavy boot kicked it open, and three dozen black-clad Agents of 
Red team swarmed in, weapons raised. Seven hundred feet away, 
another door burst open much the same way with Blue team’s 
entrance; and three hundred feet from that one, another door with 
Green team’s entry. 


A single shot was fired, and screams began to ring out. 


A field commander shouted as the Door slammed shut. The Doctor 
called over the intercom, demanding somebody retry the Knock - in 
a moment the Door opened again, and it opened to a different 
expanse of shelves. Agents rushed in. 


Unfortunately, this was a different Way, and this corner of the 
Library was Restricted. An unfamiliar human voice began to wail as 
the Door slammed shut again. 


In moments the Library was in chaos. The shot was taken by a 
newer Agent - nobody’s quite sure who exactly, it happened so 
quickly - who got spooked and fired at... something. The moment 
the shot struck a shelf, the Library exploded into motion. 


There was a palpable shift in the air as the Library came to life. The 
group huddled close together, tranquilizers and proper shots flying in 
focused bursts. A small black cat vanished into thin air the moment 
she was noticed, and a woman that looked almost like a 
schoolteacher dove behind a chesterfield; a man in a long coat drew 
his own pistol before being gunned down by the Agents, his body 
falling limp but bloodless on the marble floors. 


In the distance more screams rang out. Agents shouted to one 
another, realizing the Door behind them was gone. Someone 
authoritative called for them to ‘find the others and regroup’ - and 
they started off into the maze of shelves. 


Then the Librarians came. 


The Agents were scattered, gunfire and dozens upon dozens of 
voices screaming and calling out among the stacks. Occasionally 
gunfire rang out, and was swiftly silenced. 


One of the Red navigators was in a panic, desperately trying to 
reopen the shut Door. Several other agents huddled close, ready to 
lay down suppressing fire if anything else approached; he didn’t 
care, he just needed the damned Way to open. 


There was a Click and it finally swung open; the others looked back 
as he fell through into a hall of words, his voice perfectly silenced as 
old grey light poured into the Library like fumes. After several 
moments, an unfamiliar arm reached back out, closing the Door 
behind him. 


They repeated the Knock over and over, each time afterward 
opening to a different place. A nearly solid wall of flame, an 
impossibly cold desert, an abandoned apartment covered in fungus; 


SCP-892: Everyone's Spreadsheet 


Item #: SCP-892 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-892 is to be contained 
within maximum security vault - - located meters beneath 
Site . All O5 personnel are to be issued a magnetic Access Key 
coupled with an individual Passcode. A minimum of three (3) O5 
Overseer personnel Access Keys and corresponding Passcodes are 
required to begin a 48 hour unlock sequence to grant access to 
SCP-892. Should all thirteen O5 Overseer personnel Access Keys 
and corresponding Passcodes be entered simultaneously, vault will 
unlock immediately. 


Access to SCP-892 is permitted strictly under O5 supervision and 
for the sole purpose of attempting to identify the location of 
SCP-892-2. In the event that the SCP-892-2 is located, all O5 
personnel are to be alerted and Mobile Task Force Mu-4 (aka 
"Debuggers") is to be dispatched. 


In the event of containment breach, SCP-892 is to be defended at all 
costs. The risk of SCP-892 falling into the wrong hands could have 
catastrophic results for the Foundation as a whole, as well as the 
rest of the world. In the unlikely event that Site is to be overrun, 
SCP-892 is to be decommissioned immediately. 


Unauthorized access is grounds for immediate termination. 


Description: SCP-892 is an Amstrad 286 Personal Computer with 
accompanying mouse and keyboard, running a version of Microsoft 
Excel 92. Attempts to export and import save files result in 
corruption of said files. Attempts to install and uninstall software are 
likewise met with failure. 


Upon its discovery, SCP-892 was found containing a single .xls save 


everything seemed lost. 


The Doctor called his superiors. They would be unhappy but 
unsurprised. 


Researchers at each entry point struggled to stay on the same page, 
each wracking their brains, trying to figure out a way to salvage the 
day. The Doors refused to work properly, the Agents were divided, 
the commanders were silent, the phones were busy... it was a 
nightmare. 


Back in the project HQ, the Doctor hung up the phone, expression 
grim and sick. 


Almost a lifetime away, an Agent from Blue was in a panic, crouched 
between a bookcase and a ratty old armchair. She peeked out to 
see a tall, mouthless figure practically appear out of thin air among 
her colleagues. It swung a heavy brass lantern with an eerie, silent 
grace, taking another Agent’s head clean off; it was unphased by 
gunfire, silently neutralizing the threat posed to the Library, like a 
white blood cell would neutralize a germ. 


The cowering Agent squeezed her eyes shut, the sounds of carnage 
and gunfire ringing in her ears for a further eight seconds... before 
suddenly stopping. Trembling, she opened her eyes - the Library 
before her was immaculate, the MTF and everything else they 
brought gone. 


Standing several feet before her was the figure, mouthless, a lantern 
hanging from it’s hand. Or... rather, the lantern hung from one arm. 


It silently stood before her, holding its hand out. The Agent took it 
and was gone. 


The Door was shut tightly again. Agents and researchers shouted 
amongst themselves, trying to figure out what happened. Minutes 
passed before the Way burst open on its own, a small group of 
Agents stumbling out. They scrambled and shouted, confused, 


ragged, hurt; it seemed like they had been gone for days. 


Before anybody could react, one screamed, dragged back into the 
door before it slammed one last time, the old, grimy handle falling 
off. 


Elsewhere, Green group was completely fragmented. One splinter 
made the attempt to move out and try to find the other Doors. It 
started with about twenty agents. Then about sixteen. Eleven. Ten. 
Eight... Five. Three. 


Then there was only one Agent left. He began to run, the stacks 
growing taller, the air growing heavier, the light dimmer. It began to 
feel almost haunted, but not; it was the kind of feeling that you get 
when you know a place was once beloved, but has been silent for 
far too long. 


He turned a corner, finding himself among towering shelves that 
stretched taller than anything, with books filled with forgotten stories. 


Lost, he saw a towering figure atop a shelf, a regal beast with a 
man’s face, looking down with bored curiosity. The beast smiled 
when the Agent laid eyes upon it, eyes filled with thirst and delight. 


The Agent turned to run and ran headlong into a tall, crowned 
creature with a smile carved into its face. He began to weep, 
collapsing against the books, terrified and doomed. Somebody who 
couldn’t be recognized said words of comfort to the lost Agent, who 
realized he had made a mistake. 


The other strange figures watched as a Librarian climbed down, 
watching politely as the Agent tried to gather himself. In a moment 
the crowned thing scooped the Agent up like a baby, and leaned up, 
handing him off to the Librarian. 


A pair of Agents ran, brothers chased by shapes and movement 
they didn’t dare look at directly. They turned a corner, the first Agent 
bowling over a frightened child with iridescent eyes, the other 
jumping over; to where, they never really considered. They just 


needed to escape. 


They ran for a long time, longer than they realized. Eventually they 
realized that the books were all gone... and the world around them 
had changed. 


Light played above them, and they looked up to see a vast thing, like 
a titanic pillar on squat legs, a cage filled with innumerable lanterns 
planted atop its head. Branches like antlers strung with more lights 
stretched from the cage, twinkling like a tree filled with stars. The 
living thing’s many arms reached throughout the hall, the scraping of 
quills on paper filling the brothers’ ears. 


It looked down at them, and they fled. 


In the end, nobody knew what happened. 


Like in everything else, every single person who was part of the 
incursion had a different story. Some seemed similar until one read 
into the subtleties, others had entirely unique experiences that no 
one else shared. Most contradicted the others. 


Recordings of the day only helped muddy the waters further. Some 
showed chaotic images and sounds of alien worlds, others involved 
people who had not even been on the trip - that is, if they went on 
the op at all. Or had even been born yet. 


Some of those involved had vivid recollections for the rest of their 
lives. Some remembered nothing but entering and exiting the Doors. 
It was like time skipped them over when they went through the Way. 


The most peculiar thing happened thirteen days later. A group 
stumbled through Blue team’s door, dressed in the tatters of their 
equipment, their hair greying and their bodies scarred and decrepit. 
They claimed to have been trapped in the Library for decades, and 
only just were able to leave. They each told fantastic tales of their 
own, of giants who stoked fires, of fantastic lost countries, of black 
dogs, of breathing ideas, of things they had no words to describe. 


Many still remain. Lost souls who broke the rules, they must be 


punished for their transgressions. And they will, just as countless 
have been punished before them, and countless more will after. 


It is a learning experience. 


Let Me Guess, Applesauce? 


The Foundation used to lock things away, 

Things, this and that, which they called special. 

Every object that they deemed unique enough to keep 
was kept 

Safe and secure within their gates. 

Each one with their own set of procedures, their own 
fates. 

Each one with a set of precautions, instructions and the 
like, 

Designed to keep them locked up tight, 

And to protect them from what was normal. 


| was just another object, 

Hoarded in a room with no light 

Until a request to the board of research was submitted 
by the next doctor. 

They’d proctor a test or a few, 

And then back into my chamber | went. 

That’s how most of my time was spent. 


| had no concerns about it, 

No complaint or qualms. 

How could | feel if something was wrong, 
If I'm nothing but a toaster? 


The ding of a toaster sounded as the waitress approached the table. 
“Sir,” she said, “Do you need a box for that?”