Heil Hitler. 


Merry Christmas, my wife. | have received your previous 
letter and am astonished. To think that it took only that 
one night to conceive a child, this is wonderful news. 
There was so little time, and we overcame it. This is 


absolutely encouraging to me. 


That being said, | am sad that | cannot be with you 
during your pregnancy. There is still so much to be done 
here. Seek help from our parents, for | am sure they will 
help. We must discuss on the name at a later date. 


Sincerely 


Otto Weber 
Ahnenerbe SS 


FROM: Otto Weber 
TO: Ursula Weber 
SENT: 1 July, 1942 


Heil Hitler. 


My wife, thank you. Your words certainly hold a soothing 
influence over me. If only you were present by my side, 
the influence would dispel all ill thoughts at once. 


| have taken time to reflect on your previous letter, and 
acknowledged some of it to be correct. | still do abide by 
my personal belief that my rejected proposal to 
PROJECT KOLOSS was intended to deny me of 
directorship. It might have applied untermensch 
superstition, but that is but a social construct. 
Regardless, | agree that the current director is not at 
fault. He is a fellow patriot, as you said. So long the 
Reich benefits, there is no need to fight over 
appointments. | am already at a high rank as it is. 


But enough of my rants over work matters. | hope the 
family is doing well. | am pleased that you speak so 
highly of me to Elisabet. | only pray that | can tell her my 
various exploits myself. KOLOSS was a misstep, but do 
tell her that too. Elisabet can learn from her father's 
experience. 


Sincerely 


Otto Weber 
Ahnenerbe SS 


FROM: Otto Weber 
TO: Ursula Weber 
SENT: 21 February, 1945 


Heil Hitler. 


My wife, | hope that the family’s resettlement in Breslau 
has been progressing well since my last correspondence 
with you. It is regretful that | cannot be there by your 
side, but we know that the Reich needs me more. Now 
more than ever before. 


You should know by now that the Reich has not been 
faring well since the disastrous ventures at the Eastern 
Front. Our enemies are indeed overwhelming us, even 
with our stock of wunderwaffe. Perhaps my rejected 
proposals might have changed the outcome, but there is 
no reason to speculate. 


Thus, selected colleagues and | have been preparing for 
a change in tactics, from offense to defence. It is a 
matter of time before they overrun the Reich entirely, 
therefore we must defend. Ah Time, it once again 
brought us trouble, like our marriage. We began to know 
each other too late, and rushed through it due to 
coincidence. Additionally, it took only that first and last 
night to conceive Elisabet. Certainly, Elisabet and our 
marriage are at least our meagre victory against Time. 
Thus, it is fitting to name this defence initiative ‘oie 
Glocke’, after the bells that began our tale of victory. The 
enemies can tear themselves apart, but we shall rise 
victorious from their corpses. And by ‘we’, you and 
Elisabet are definitely included. 


Leave the settlement and come to me in our base at the 
Owl Mountains, where die Glocke awaits. The security 
detail will escort you there, should you give the order 
(They know the path). We can be together again and die 


Glocke will guarantee that Time shall never impede us. 


We will not leave without you and Elisabet. As 
Obergruppentthrer, | promise. 


Sincerely 


Otto Weber 
Ahnenerbe SS, PROJECT DIE GLOCKE Director 


Euclidean Thinking 


| climb up to the edge, and pull myself over to the next space. | 
really wish | could have studied more, there's so much here | don't 
understand. 


Quiet, now I'm used to that. Most of the time, | hear nothing, 
although | do get a bit of ambiance in some of the spaces | step into. 
But even then, those few noises only serve to accentuate the 
soundless depths. It's been too quiet for too long, and no one has 
said or done anything to me ever since the lights went out. 


God, I've no idea how long it's been, time's just been meaningless, 
really. | don't sleep, | don't eat, although | can taste things when 
given a chance. All | know is what they let me know, really, and part 
of me wonders if this is another one of their damned games. | do 
know they were pissed when | found out what was really going on 
the first time, but for whatever reason, they decided against 
terminating me. Small favors. 


| guess | should be thankful, though, but | do wonder whether there's 
any point to my current existence. Dr. Nguyen says that there's 
always a point for existence, but he's out there and I'm stuck here. A 
series of infinite planes, all alike. A grue would be welcome. 


No, this one's different, | can see that. | walk over to view the plane, 
and the Words make themselves readily apparently. | read them 
silently, trying to figure out what it all means. 


“SCP-001 has left its location. The Gate is Open.” Gate? What gate? 
What the fuck? | continue to read the report, and phrases like “XK- 
Class” and “Patros-Omega” come up, but “end of the world 
scenario” is pretty damned clear. 


Either this is really some elaborate game done by the Foundation, or 
| am well and truly alone. | can't escape, | can't kill myself, I'm just 
going slightly mad. | giggle at the thought that | managed to miss out 


And that's when | noticed that there were these red things growing 
all over his face. He started screaming when the first of them burst 
and splattered blood all over the inside of his face plate. He begged 
me to kill him. | put my gun up to his face plate and pulled the 
trigger, click. I'd burned all my ammo trying to shoot those damn 
faces. 


The tentacles burst out of its face a moment after. It grabbed me... 
and it started licking me, Bill. The thing was running its tongues all 
over my face and body, over the suit. It grabbed me and pushed me 
down and tried to hump my suit like a dog, but it couldn't get 
through. | managed to wrestle the thing that had once been the kid 
back through the sphincter into the stomach. Its tentacles writhed at 
me as it started to melt. 


He smiled - told me he loved me before he died. | screamed. 
Then 835 blew its load and | flew out its ass into the ocean. 


You know the rest of the story, Bill. Except one thing. When | got 
back to the ship, there was a breach in my suit. | haven't told anyone 
yet, Bill. No one noticed, not even me: a little crack on the wrist of 
my left glove, and | guess someone missed a spot on 
decontamination, and, well, | figured | was okay, right? It just hit the 
skin... nothing internal. And | didn't start getting symptoms right 
away, but I've read the reports about the latency times, and if I'm 
gonna start coming down, now is about the tail end of the incubation 
period. So | locked myself in and waited. 


| just looked in the mirror and noticed that my face is starting to grow 
some red blotches. So... yeah. | guess I'm fucked. 


As for the rest, Fill it in from the reports and the logs for me, will ya? 
Oh, and be sure to edit it so the motherfuckers in command don't 
yell at me for being unprofessional in me AARs again. I'm gonna 
finish off my drink and take a couple valium and go to bed. Tell the 
Cleaner teams not to enter my quarters: abandon the entire ship and 
scuttle it on top of the original site. It should be easier to contain two 
of us than just one. Besides, | think the kid would like it that way. 
Now we can be together, just like he wants. Thanks. 


on Judgement Day, and now | find myself in an ironic hell. 


Fuck, Cassy, what do | do now? 


Eulogies 


The pallbearers carried out the coffin to the center of the grassy 
area. Dr. Louef assisted them, as the members of Site 118’s 
Gamma Wing slowly filed into the audience, dressed in respectful 
mourning black. Father Richards walked up to John, and gave 
another tired, but reassuring smile. He walked out, and led the 
audience in a prayer for Schenck’s soul. Louef noted that most 
stood respectfully during the process, but few actually joined in. This 
was as far as the Foundation usually went in the religious side. 


After the prayer was finished, Father Richards took his place off to 
the side, while Louef walked up to the available and familiar podium. 
He wondered how many times he had been up there already. He 
shook his head to clear himself of such thoughts, and began his 
speech. 


*We are gathered here today to honor the memory of one of our 
dear friends and colleagues, Containment Team Gamma-502's 
leader, Max Schenck.” 


“Alright. I’ll...P'll record it immediately. Thank you for the news.” Dr. 
John Louef hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. He felt 
tired. So very, very tired. 


It had been a long time coming. Everyone knew that Containment 
Team survival rates were abysmally low in certain theaters, but no 
one really acknowledged the fact, as if recognizing death would 
hasten it. 


John wearily opened the filing cabinet by his desk, and searched for 
the file he wanted. Max Schenck, Senior Containment Specialist. As 
he opened the file, he looked at the first page. A long list of awards 
and qualifications adorned the list, along with a series of promotions 
and major events. But John already knew of these things. What his 
eyes were drawn to was the photo of a smiling, confident man in his 


30s, a man whose demeanor showed the experience of his years 
without the sag of old age and fatigue. 


Louef crossed out the photo, and stamped the file with a marker 
saying “DECEASED.” He submitted a short form to the Logistics 
Department, and then he put away the file of his best friend for the 
last time. 


“Father Richards.” 
“Hello, John. | haven't seen you in a long time.” 
“| get the feeling that you say that to a lot of people.” 


Father Richards had a taut smile on his face as Dr. Louef walked 
into the small on-site chapel. As usual, the chapel was empty of 
personnel. Most people who worked at the Foundation had lost their 
faiths years ago. 


“Few come in here. Some of the younger personnel, and 
occasionally someone who needs a confessional. Have you decided 
to return to the church?” Richards smiled inquiringly, and perhaps a 
little hopefully. 


Louef grimaced. “Not quite. Max passed away. Mission.” 


Father Richards sighed, and turned away for a moment. “It seems 
that funerary services are all | do nowadays. Max...oh Max.” Father 
Richards went into his personal quarters, leaving Louef alone. 


John sat down and looked around the chapel. It featured the same 
austere and practical design found in any Foundation facility, though 
Father Anthony Richards had taken the time to place crosses and 
icons around the small area. Most of the time, Father Richards was 
here alone, keeping the small chapel clean and tidy by himself as a 
few personnel trickled in. 


In all of John's 15 years at the Foundation, he had never seen more 
than 5 people in the chapel at once. Yet Father Richards seemed to 
tirelessly work and give a smile or prayer when needed. Dr. Louef 
looked up as Father Richards emerged. 


“Father Richards...why do you still work here?” Louef asked. 


Richards seemed to be surprised by the question at first, but he 
smiled. “Because God put me here to do His work.” 


“How do you still believe in God, even after all that you’ve seen, and 
all that you know of our work?” 


“| believe that God is inherently unknowable. He works in mysterious 
ways, and why He has chosen to challenge us with the monsters 
and horrors that we deal with is unknown. It is merely our duty to 
defend others and defeat them.” Richards said simply. 


John paused to consider that for a moment, and then stood up. 
“Let’s be on our way then.” 


Dr. Louef looked across at the entire audience. The various 
personnel of Gamma Wing listened as Dr. Loeuf gave his eulogy. All 
told, 87 personnel divided across 5 research teams, several guards, 
and assorted containment team members listened to the 
departmental director's speech. 


“Max was a great man and soldier. In the field, he was always calm, 
and led his team through success after success. A true professional, 
he never lost sight of the mission or his duty as an operative of the 
Foundation.” 


Louef glanced at the audience in between his careful reading. The 
members of Schenck’s team were seated in the front row. One of 
them had her head in her hands. Another stared at the casket, 
seemingly numbed by the whole event. A third had crossed her 
arms, and kept her head down as Louef spoke. 


“Containment Team Gamma-502 had been sent on a mission to 
Laurel Ridge State Park to capture an anomaly that had caused 
large amounts of property damage through its action. The anomaly 
in question was capable of self-detonation. Unfortunately, none of us 
knew that.” 


This part was the easiest to get through. Across the audience, 


friends of Max Schenck quietly mourned, while others stayed 
respectfully silent. By this point, the woman with her head in her 
hands had looked up. Some tears were on her face as Louef 
continued. 


*"When the anomaly began to show signs of potential detonation, 
Max demonstrated the utmost professionalism and regard for safety 
that all of us admired in him. Pushing aside a teammate, he shielded 
his team from harm by covering the anomaly with his own body.” 


At this point, the woman in the front had her head in her hands 
again, as she convulsed slightly. The man sitting next to her 
grabbed her shoulder reassuringly, whispering, “Quiet now, Maddy. 
It wasn’t your fault.” 


“Out of the field, everyone who had the privilege of knowing 
Schenck experienced his genuine warmth and kindness. Always 
caring to the new personnel, always the cool head in any situation, 
and always a friend to all. Including me.” 


Louef’s research assistants in the left section who had gotten to 
know Schenck from his numerous returns of captured anomalies 
were quietly emotional in the atmosphere of the funeral. The senior 
researchers in the back corner who had known Schenck for years 
from his long experience with the Foundation were stony-faced. 


yw | y 


Louef stopped, and swallowed the ball that had suddenly formed in 
his throat. This was always one of the hardest parts to get through. 
He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. He 
gripped the corners of his podium tightly. 


*| had the honor of meeting Max when we both came to work here 
within days of each other. | remember his tenacity in the face of 
odds, and the creative attitude that got him promoted to team leader. 
We knew each other for almost 20 years, and | called him a friend 
for all of them.” 


John swallowed again, despite himself. He was more emotional than 
he thought he would be. He thought that he would've lost the ability 


to care by now. */ am proud to say that the request for a Foundation 
Star to be awarded to Max has been granted by the site director. His 
meritorious service to the Foundation during his long and decorated 
career is one that we have known quite well. Yet, | think that Max 
would not be concerned with his award. He would be more proud of 
his team, and the numerous accomplishments that he made with 
them.” 


This was another easier part to get through. The woman in the front 
had finally calmed down, and merely sat quietly, her eyes puffy and 
red. Her teammate had uncrossed her arms, but had closed her 
eyes, and leaned her head back. 


*We lay him to rest today, because he had no family. His life was the 
Foundation, and he was one of our finest. He was the best team 
leader, the greatest friend, and a titan of aman. We will miss him 
dearly.”