wary bite, then he shoved what remained of the cookie in his mouth. 
Arthur drew a second cookie from the package as he stared at the 
machine. On one hand, it violated causality. He was fairly sure the 
Foundation was fond of causality. On the other, he now spotted a 
plaque naming a snack that had stopped being produced in his 
childhood. 


"How exactly does this work?" Arthur asked through his second 
cookie. 


"Told you, sir, it's a secret." 

Arthur swallowed. He knew what that must mean. "It's anomalous." 
Alissa only smiled. 

"How many have been produced?" 


"Don't know. But we're not selling them, if that's what you're worried 
about. Purely an in-house commodity." 


"Is it safe?" 


"It has to be, doesn't it?" She pressed one of the buttons for a donut 
brand Arthur didn't recognize. Once dispensed, she showed him the 
packaging. It expired in thirty years. "The inside experiences its 
entire existence at once. If it were to ever break, it'd always be 
broken. There are some defunct ones, but they're always found 
immediately without any issues." 


"You're playing with fire here, Dr. Grey. You say this stays behind 
your doors, but what of your other projects? The masses aren't 
ready for this sort of thing.” 


Alissa smirked and responded, "Are you aware of our name, Mister 
Rodrick?" 


He wondered if that particular exchange was common during these 
inspections. She certainly looked proud enough of herself to suggest 
otherwise. Arthur nodded and gestured for the lounge exit. 


"Shall we continue?" he asked, slightly humored. 


As she showed him around, Arthur came to the conclusion that 
these people were working under a very different rule set than the 
rest of the world. The scientists would explain how something 
worked, using logic Arthur either couldn't follow or outright knew was 
scientifically inaccurate. But their projects worked, their technology 
seemed safe. Safe enough as far as the Foundation was concerned, 
at least. He was particularly intrigued by the teleport device they 
were working on. He watched for almost twenty minutes, men and 
women appearing and reappearing from atop a platform. 


"So, basically," Alissa said as she began to brief him on the final 
stop. "This stems from the technology we used for the vending 
machine. She opened up a cabinet and pulled out what seemed to 
be two old astronaut suits. "With the established fact that machinery 
can function in a place without time, we reasoned that organics can 
function in a place without space. So we developed this void 
chamber." 


"| don't understand," Arthur admitted as they began to don the suits. 
That did not seem like a very sound conclusion to reach. 


"Turns out we were wrong.” Arthur wasn't sure if she had heard him, 
but he felt somewhat vindicated as he shoved a leg into the suit. 
"You need air to breathe, and obviously a void doesn't have that. So 
we took up the design of old diving suits. One abyss is like another, 
we figured, and so long as we had air we'd be fine." 


"Okay..." Arthur was surprised how light the suit was. He slid his 
arms into the sleeves and stood. Even the giant dome of a helmet 
was easy to lift. 


"So we combined the technologies." Alissa's voice was an odd, 
muffled sound from within her helmet. "Using timeless air strapped 
to our backs, we can enter the void. It's a bit disorienting, but you 
get used to it. And because the speed of an object's motion is 
inversely proportional to the viscosity of the medium, and we're ina 
vacuum, everything moves super-fast." 


Arthur thought for a moment. Prometheus Labs and the Foundation 
had worked under NASA for a brief time, when it was thought that 
reaching space would require something a tad abnormal. "Wait, this 


SCP-601: Sophocles’ Chorus 


Item #: SCP-601 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-601 is to be confined to 
Group Humanoid Containment (GHC) Suite 2 on Site-03 at all times. 
This suite is to be furnished and maintained and as per standard 
humanoid containment procedures, with the following addenda: 


¢ All furnishings and plumbing fixtures placed in GHC Suite 2 
are to be provided in sets of 12. 

* No flammable materials are to be used in the construction of 
furniture placed in GHC Suite 2. 

¢ No two items of furniture or plumbing fixtures of like type 

placed in GHC Suite 2 are to be set more than 5 meters apart 

from one another. 

Audio recording equipment is to be installed throughout GHC 

Suite 2. All audio data is to be translated and analyzed by two 

personnel with level 2 clearance or higher. 

The floor of GHC Suite 2 is to be mopped daily in addition to 

standard weekly custodial service. 

Meals provided to SCP-601 are not to contain meat or meat 

products. 


Following the events of experiment 601-0135, SCP-601 is to remain 
under 24 hour video surveillance. Should any foreign objects be 
observed, GHC Suite 2 is to be searched, all foreign objects are to 
be removed, and any missing items previously issued to SCP-601 
are to be replaced. Under no circumstances is entertainment media 
of any kind to be introduced into GHC Suite 2 except during 
approved experiments. 


In the event of the death(s) of any of the members of SCP-601, one 
D-class individual is to be introduced into GHC Suite 2 for each 
member lost. 


is the technology from Project Apollo, isn't it?" 


"Right." Alissa's voice leaked from the small speakers in his helmet. 
"See, buying up area for new labs is expensive. And digging down 
isn't always the best option. So we started the Void Program. We 
weren't sure how to solve the whole collapsing void issue, and then 
you let us play with that little cuboid thingy to simulate outer space 
and it became super easy." 


"You made it seem like you have more than one of these ‘void' 
chambers. How is that possible if we have the only SCP-184 
contained?" 


Alissa was quiet for a moment, her face hidden behind the dark 
glass of the helmet. "That's classified." 


"Of course. My apologies." 


Entering the void chamber required them to go through several air 
locks. It was a monotonous progress, involving little more than 
waiting to move on to the next room so they could wait some more. 
Until the final room, which contained nothing before them but an 
empty archway. The black nothingness inside and beyond the arch 
unsettled Arthur like nothing he had seen thus far, but Alissa strode 
toward it as confidently as the suit allowed. 


"Now, Arthur," she said when she stopped at the threshold. 
"Entering this place is a bit of a trying experience. The parts of your 
body that enter are accelerating at a significantly greater rate than 
the rest of you. It's not fun, and you'll freak out because suddenly it 
looks like your arm is gone. But you just have to keep going. Don't 
stop, and you'll be fine." 


And then she stepped into the darkness, an invisible curtain 
wrapping around her. Then Arthur was alone in the room. This 
seemed something that was not safe. Or sane, really. But he knew 
that laboratories were dangerous places. He also knew danger 
would only truly present itself if you broke away from procedures. So 
he took a deep breath, held it, and ran into the nothingness. 


« CAV-002 | CAVALCADE | CAV-004 » 


Ouroboric Tango 


Jessie Moon sat on her bed with her back against the wall and her 
legs splayed out before her. Textbooks she hadn’t touched in weeks 
were strewn across the floor. Her bedroom’s unlit lamp cast warm, 
soothing darkness over her. She closed her eyes and felt her mind 
stretch like a cat in the sun. Out there, beyond the walls of this tiny 
house where only she lived, people were moving and horns were 
blaring and the stars above whirled about the sky, but that was out 
there, and this was in here. In here... 


Jessie Moon scooted over a foot to the side, making some room in 
her bed. She stared expectantly at the empty space next to her. 


A second later, another Jessie Moon appeared. 


The other’s face was turned, so Jessie could not discern the 
expression on her face. There was silence between them, 
unbearable silence that strained at her mind, so she said, “Hey. 
What’s up?” 


When the other didn’t respond immediately, Jessie craned her head 
around to try to see the time on the other's watch. The other pushed 
her head away. “Cut it out, jackass,” she muttered. 


Jessie stuck out her tongue. “It’s not my fault that you’re making the 
game boring in the first place.” 


“This is...hardly a game. And whatever’s my fault—” 


“Is definitely not my fault. Present me is present me and future me is 
future me and present me is not future me.” 


“You’re being so obnoxious,” the other said. 


Jessie raised her hands in the air. “Hey, come on. Look, we don't 
know why this is happening, right?” 


“It happens...” 


“Because it happens. We’re stuck here...at least until | go back, and 
you already know when that happens, don’t you? The point is that 
you don’t need to be so pissy. We make the most out of where we 
are and what is happening where we are. Isn't that exciting?” 


An odd tension began to drain slowly out of the other’s face. Finally, 
she smiled. “All right, then,” the other said. She leaned over and 
rested her head on Jessie’s shoulder. “What do you want to do?” 


The other was warm. 

"In this instant, or more...generally?" Jessie asked. 
"The second one." 

“| don’t know." 

“| guess | have to help you out, then?” the other said. 
Jessie giggled. “Guess so.” 


The other said, “We want to know more about ourselves. 
Reasonable?” 


“Reasonable,” Jessie said. 


“We want to know all about what we’re made of, and what stuff is 
inside us, and where that stuff came from, and what that stuff’s 
gonna be,” the other said. “Right?” 


“Yeah.” 

“So one day we figure all that out...” 

“Mhm.” 

The other tilted her head. “What happens after that, then?” 


Jessie didn’t answer the other’s question. She had neither an origin 
nor an end; they blended together into one Ouroboric mix. She 
understood, more than anyone else ever would, that she was 


something that did not have a cause, that she was arbitrary and yet 
necessary. What would it mean to understand that? To understand 
the agent-less will of the universe? And once it was understood, 
what then? 


“We're afraid,” the other said. 
“You're afraid.” 


The other started stroking Jessie’s hair. For a moment, she 
contemplated shoving the other away and ignoring her and just 
going back right then. But that was not what was going to happen— 
the universe hardly moved on the pettiness of one girl—so she 
relaxed. 


“Fine, then,” Jessie said. “What am | afraid of?” 


There was the world, spinning and revolving peacefully in space. 
There were people on that world, and there was her. She saw the 
timeline of her life explode outwards in spirals and curves and 
circles that turned in on themselves. 


She saw at once her past, when she was ignorant in innocence, and 
then the shattering of innocence in the Revelation— 


It had not been Revelation when she had realized that she could 
twist the world with a focused will. Anybody could know that. 
Revelation was when she understood that the world would only be 
twisted in a very specific way for no reason at all, that she and 
humanity and the world would only ever follow one path. 


She saw her future, and in it she saw the emblem of the Foundation. 


Jessie closed her eyes. “I know my future, don’t I? I...| can see 
myself behind the Foundation’s walls. This is what happens. What is 
there to be afraid of?” 


“You're not afraid of the Foundation,” the other said. 
“Of course not. If | were, | would’ve run and joined the Hand, right?” 


“But you are afraid.” 


“| guess you're right,” Jessie said. “But it doesn’t make sense! | 
know everything, but | don’t know anything. That’s the best possible 
way to be, isn’t it? | can see what happens, but | can’t see who | am, 
or what I'll think, and | can see what I'll do and what I'll be but not... 
not what the meaning of that being is. Isn’t that exciting? | should be 
excited, shouldn't |?” 


The other nodded. “It’s...unbelievably exciting.” 


“| know exactly what’s going to happen, for me and for humanity and 
for the world...and I’ve accepted all of it. And | know the richness of 
experience, | can—I can taste it, I’m salivating, just waiting for it to 
come over me! So then...” 


Jessie opened her eyes. 

“Why am | afraid?” she asked. 

The other smiled. “Oh. Oh, huh. | understand now.” 
“You already know the stupid answer.” 


“Yeah,” the other said. “Yeah, don’t worry, this ends...this ends ina 
way that is simultaneously satisfactory and unsatisfactory.” 


“Literally everything is satisfactory and unsatisfactory. You're 
satisfied by the things you like and unsatisfied by the things you 
don’t. We are just dropping brilliant insights left and right.” 


The other frowned and punched Jessie in the arm. “That’s really 
annoying, especially when I’m not the one saying it.” 


“More brilliant insights.” 
“Shut up,” the other said. “Look...listen, all right?” 
The smile crept off Jessie’s face. “All right.” 


She looked into the other’s eyes. It was not at all like looking into a 
mirror. That was examining her imitation—her simulation. But the 
other existed both inside and outside herself. In the other's eyes, 
she could see all the parts of herself that she thought she knew, and 


yet she could also see emotion and thought that she would not be 
able to identify internally. How could “future her” be so different 
when she was from only the immediate future? 


The other said, “If you know everything that’s going to happen to 
you, then aren't you only a few steps away from knowing yourself? 
From removing all the mystery or potential for surprise that your own 
soul holds? We've both embraced extreme determinism. So if we've 
spoiled the ending...” 


The other chuckled and wiped her eyes. “It’s silly.” 
“It’s not silly,” Jessie said. 


“Fine,” the other said. “I mean, once we spoil the ending, what’s left 
to discover?” 


Jessie felt the line of her life unfold and stretch before her. She 
averted her gaze. 


“What kind of...boring person are we going to become, do you 
think?” the other asked. “What happens to us once we know 
everything we’ve wanted to know? Do we die the slow death? We 
wake up one morning, and being us is no longer worth being 
because every corner of our mind is mapped out?” 


Jessie felt the dark walls of the room box and define the boundaries 
of her being. Inside of her mind, she felt a voice cry out as if ona 
mountaintop. The voice wanted to reach the very roof of the sky and 
the very depths of the most mysterious seas—it wanted to be 
everything that it could be. It wanted to exist. But the only thing the 
voice could fill was this room, small and peaceful and dark. She had 
to be humble in her omniscience and omnipotence. 


Others might have said that she had a choice: to be this humble 
god, or to be the sort of god that was a rampant Will imposing itself 
on a soft, pliable world. But she was the first sort of god, so she 
knew that it wasn’t a choice. It was a question of definitions. She did 
not act. She was. She already knew everything that she was going 
to be, and the rampant Will had no place in her future. 


She had to be satisfied filling the room. 


“One day,” the other said, “we'll know ourselves entirely. Then we 
will have...a choice.” 


“We never have choices.” 


“A pseudo-choice, then. We can be bored with ourselves and die the 
slow death, or...or it'll be beautiful and wonderful. But | don’t know 
how. The thing is—do—do you understand what we have to do?” 


Jessie nodded. “We have to accept that we will one day know 
ourselves.” 


Now, Jessie understood. 


“And you know what we have to do in order to do that,” the other 
said.