It was a slow fight, precise and mechanical; we never stood a 
chance... The first stage of attack was these weird clouds of silver 
mist. They would blow across fields and mountains and in their wake 
was nothing but polished sections of shiny metal. Entire cities were 
wiped off the planet, forests vanished in the blink of an eye, and any 
poor bastard caught in those damned winds was gone, no blood or 
meat, just more metal. Days seemed to become colder as our 
paradise was transformed into a dead, polished sphere. Food was 
scarce and water was even rarer, but we managed somehow. | 
turned to nutrient powders, vitamins, and cannibalism while 
collecting what little rain water | could manage. 


You know what | remember most about those days? How metallic 
everything tasted... 


Then came the plagues. | don't know exactly when they first started 
but | Know it was just another step in that fucking thing's twisted 
plan. Victims would start complaining of joint pain, muscle stiffness, 
fatigue, apathy, and strange dreams. One poor sap told me about 
his dreams as if they were blissful, but what he described seemed 
like a nightmare to me. Eventually, they would just stop... It was 
disgusting to see them, villages of these poor fucks just laying on 
the ground. They looked like they were having a good dream... | 
saw one of them with a stupid grin on his face as a raven pecked out 
his dried up eyeballs. | sometimes wished | could've been infected 
so | didn't have to witness what came next. 


Their corpses would start moving again. Their limbs jerked and their 
bodies would shake every couple minutes. | could smell them for 
miles as their rotting flesh fell away from what used to be their 
bones. | don't know how it did it, but their skeletons were entirely 
made of moving and clicking clockwork. It was like watching a 
fucked up French movie, but there were no subtitles and there was 
no ending. Those... things would spend every minute of every day 
working and building, dancing underneath their clockwork creator's 
unheard tune. 


Their work was confusing to me but | guess they had a plan. They 
would cut up sections of the metal then use it to forge more gears, 
cogs, pistons, whatever else they needed, and when they were 
done, they would put them all together into complex sheets of 
machinery and fill in the empty spaces. All the while, that thing just 
kept turning and dancing above our metallic hell. It's kind of fitting 
when | think back on how pretty it looked in comparison to our own 
warped world... 


| remember the first time an entire plane of metal had been crafted, | 
could hear the steady grinding of gears and what sounded like the 
tick of a clock. | can still hear it as the gears and cogs keep spinning 
and turning in their own dance. This was when the real nightmare 
began, when those stupid robot fucks started completing more and 
more sections of land, the ground steadily becoming a death-trap of 
crushing gears and pistons. | had to watch my good buddy get 
crushed when he fell onto a functioning section. His screaming 
wasn't the worst part; it was seeing his broken, mangled corpse get 
pulled down into a sea of twisting clockwork. The nightmares were 
the worst part... Seeing him being pulled into the machinery and 
ripped apart by the spinning metal. But at least he wasn't screaming 
anymore; instead he had a big stupid grin on his face and he was 
urging me to join him, to fall into the complex dance of metal upon 
metal. | wanted to join him, once, but | could never muster up the 
courage to make that final plunge. 


| can hear them toiling away outside of my camp, building more of 
this nightmare all for that spinning ball of metal. | don't know if it 
cares for our suffering or if it's even aware, but | know it's alive. | 
saw its eye once. You don't have to believe me, no one else does, 
but | saw it; it was only fora moment as the gears spun and the 
cogs shifted that | could see how empty it was and then | saw its 
eye... It was bright orange like our sun, with a hole right in the 
center and it was looking down at us, at me, at our lifeless world and 
| swear to you that it was happy with what it saw... 


Well, it won't be long now; | can hear them preparing to install what | 
assume will be the last section of clockwork. | don't know what will 
happen after their work is done but | know | won't be a victim of that 
thing. I've gathered the last of my supplies for a fine feast: a can of 


baked beans, a Snickers, a cyanide capsule, and a nice drink of 
water. 


Even now as | look up at that thing dancing in the night sky, | can't 
help but wonder if it was ever broken at all... 


Broken Faith 


Today's the day. | will be drinking the blood of god and 
the Modifiers will bring me closer to MEKHANE. | don't 
know what will happen, but I'll make sure to tell you. After 
all, you know everything about me. 


Levy was barely listening to the sermon, his eyes were focused on 
his arm. His new arm. Never before had he felt so close to 
MEKHANE. He didn't remember much of his first ascension 
ceremony, just coming to his senses after everything was done. 
Feeling the pull of his arm's increased weight. Seeing the light 
reflect by the brass. Hearing the clicking of the gears as he moved it 
for the first time. 


"You should really pay attention!" Judith's whisper snapped him out 
of his memories. She was right of course, looking out for him as 
usual. Legate Karlen was overseeing today's sermon and he was 
not known to overlook inattention. 


After the sermon, Levy went back to the small chamber he called his 
own. In his drawer, hidden under a copy of The Schema of the 
Patriarchs #13: Standardized Metallurgy, was his diary. It was 
frowned upon by the church but it was a habit from his life before 
that he couldn't seem to shake. Lost in thought, he lay down on his 
bed, admiring the clicking noises his arm made. 


| have no words to describe this feeling, | can feel 
MEKHANE working through my new arm. In time, | will 
be ready to join the Legates. 


"Did you hear about what the Builders did?" She sounded worried. 
"No, what happened?" 


"They attacked the Foundation." 


"On their own ground?" That was bold. Levy couldn't imagine that 
such a thing would have an outcome that made it worthwhile. 


"Apparently. It seems they... found something. | overheard a 
preacher talking about it. He seemed disturbed." There was 
something in her voice that made him nervous. What kind of thing 
would unsettle a preacher, stalwart in their faith? 


"What was it? What did they find?" 


"I'm not sure. They noticed me listening and sent me away. But they 
didn't look happy. Scared." 


There have been rumors going around. Rumors that the 
Foundation... found God. Literally. Ridiculous, right? But 
then why is everybody so freaked out about it? It's not 
like we don't know better. 


The last few weeks there had been a noticeable tension all around 
the monastery. People were huddled together in small groups, 
discussing the Foundation's alleged discovery, immediately 
dispersing if a Legate came near. Levy had heard that several 
people had been restricted to solitary confinement for unknown 
reasons. Some said they were openly spreading heresy, saying the 
Foundation had disproven MEKHANE. Others said they had been 
secretly working for the Foundation and were now being tortured for 
information before being executed as traitors. Others again said the 
vanished people were not actually in solitary but had left the 
monastery, never to come back. There was no end to the different 
rumors. 


Levy wasn't sure what to think of all this. Were they not strong 
enough in their faith to see that this were just lies, soread by heretics 
to sow dissent? If it were even possible to literally find the 
MEKHANE, surely the blinded pawns of the Foundation would be 
the last ones to manage that. Slaves of the FLESH, all of them, blind 
to how this world really was. 


Sighing, he turned the corner leading to Judith's quarters. She was 
his rock, his best friend, unwavering in her faith. Her first ascension 
ceremony was coming up soon. He wondered what part of her 


SCP-804: World Without Man 


Item #: SCP-804 
Object Class: Keter 


Special Containment Procedures: Until such time as SCP-804 is 
found to be without any memetic effect it is to remain in its original 
location at the former site of , Alaska, where exposure to the 
elements prevents its reactivation. A 30m x 30m camouflage tarp is 
to be maintained over SCP-804 and facilities for armed guards and 
testing are to be maintained 130 meters from its location. 
Trespassers are to be treated with a Class-A amnestics and 
returned to the nearest town of [DATA EXPUNGED] or terminated at 
the discretion of on-site security. In the event of SCP-804 being 
approached or seized by a hostile armed force, Contingency 804-X 
is to be executed. 


Description: SCP-804 is the remains of an art installation titled 
"World Without Man," revealed on / /20 , by the defunct artists' 
group Unelmat Paremmasta Maailmasta. According to 
documentation retrieved and deleted from the artists' website during 
clean-up procedure, SCP-804 was originally a large, clear globe of 
the Earth, with several smaller globes and video equipment within. 
Promotional material on the website implied that the globe was to 
display images of pastoral wilderness untouched by mankind 
contrasted with visuals of abandoned human industry and decaying 
landmarks. 


Upon activation before a small audience of prominent environmental 
activists and artists from the nearby community of , SCP-804 
began to display its destructive properties. We can only speculate if 
the device's output was intentional or not, as those involved in its 
construction perished during the incident or have gone into hiding. 


While the globes within SCP-804 rotate, all man-made artifacts 
within approximately 100 meters begin to rapidly deteriorate until 


would be exalted. It was exciting to think about. 


Levy was about to knock on the door when he heard her voice, 
muffled but partially understandable. He wasn't sure what compelled 
him to spy on his best friend, but instead of knocking he pressed his 
ear against the door and listened. 


"... Calling for headquarters. Stigma Nine passphrase..." He couldn't 
make out the next few words. Who was she talking to? Calling? 
There were not telephones inside the monastery, such devices were 
heresy. And what was she talking about? Stigma Nine? 
Headquarters? This didn't make any sense. He was about to open 
the door when he could make out her words again. 


"-tion Hippodrome seems to be a success. Rumors are spreading 
like wildfire, everybody is really nervous. It appears..." Judith's voice 
seemed to go further away and Levy couldn't make out her words 
again. His head was racing with questions. What did Hippodrome 
mean? Why did she seem pleased with the spread of the rumors? 


Not willing to tolerate this any longer, he burst into her room. 


Judith. She's... I'm not even able to write the words. How 
could she? She has a cellphone! This is heresy! More 
so, it's treason! She was talking to the Foundation, it's 
clear to me now. But why? Why would she do this? | 
thought | knew her. | don't know what to think anymore. 
There is nobody | know better than Judith... What else 
have | been wrong about? 


Levy had been keeping to himself ever since he caught Judith. He 
hadn't been sleeping much and if he did, he was tormented by 
nightmares. Barely able to perform his duties he was already 
disciplined once when he fell asleep during a sermon. The feeling of 
anxiety all around the monastery was almost touchable. Most people 
avoided eye contact, and Legates were patrolling the hallways 
constantly. It had become silent where the air was usually abuzz 
with theological discussions. 


Late at night, Levy found himself standing on the monastery's roof, 
staring into the sky. Supposedly the thing the Foundation found 


came from space. The thing they were saying was the MEKHANE. 
He remembered being taught about the existence of other planets in 
school, a long time ago. The sermons never mentioned anything 
about space. The church was trying to fix the world, to order it. But 
what about other worlds? Didn't they need fixing, too? He tried to 
imagine space, with thousands of other worlds in it. It made him 
dizzy. He felt small and lonely. 

Insignificant. 

Terrified. 


There was a fight yesterday. Couple of people died. A 
group of initiates attacked a Legate. Couldn't have 
imagined such a thing to ever happen. And yet it did. 
Thinking about the smell of the blood makes me 
nauseous again. So much blood. 


| know | should have reported Judith but... | can't. She 
might be a traitor and a heretic but she’s still.. her. My 
friend. My confidante. The thought of her being 
interrogated, tortured... | can't bear it. I've been covering 
my arm lately. The ticking of the gears has become 
irritating. Trying not to move the arm too much. 


Staying in the shadows, Levy watched the entrance to the Archives, 
trying to keep his. He wasn't supposed to be here. But neither was 
Jared. He was an acquaintance who usually quietly performed his 
duties. Levy couldn't remember ever hearing anything out of the 
ordinary about the man. And yet there he was, sneaking into the 
Archives where some of the closest guarded secrets were kept. The 
guards had been distracted by a fire in the nearby dormitories. Did 
Jared orchestrate this? Or was he just seizing the opportunity? He 
couldn't help but wonder if there were more traitors like Judith in the 
monastery. If his best friend could deceive him, how easy would 
have been for people he barely knew? 

What if the preachers had deceived him, too? 


| feel like my whole world is collapsing around me. Judith 
is gone, no idea what happened to her. Legates won't tell 
me. Haven't been to the last sermons Told them | was 
sick. 


Can't even look at my arm anymore 


It had become a ritual for Levy to go up on the roof at night and 
stare into the night sky. Sometimes he also stared at the mountains 
surrounding the monastery. Inescapable. 


Trapped. 


He felt the cold sweat on his palms, when he clenched his fists. The 
ledge of the roof had been calling to him lately. It was tempting him, 
promising him freedom. Escaping the looming, unending threat of 
the sky and space, lurking just behind. All that nothingness. His 
breathing shortened at the mere thought of it. 


can't sleep anymore, I'm trapped cant get out 
theyve all been lying to me lying lying lying 


Levy stared at the scene before him. Preacher Colen, in a pool of 
his own blood. The word 'LIAR' in crude letters, carved into his bare 
chest. The cold feeling in his stomach told Levy to get away from 
here. Back to his room. Back to safety. Clutching his arm to his 
chest, he ran. It disgusted him, his arm, almost as much as the 
corpse he was leaving behind. 

Why was there a bloody knife in his hand? 


cant get out need to get out need to get out 
get out 

jump? 

just get out 

they know and theyve been lying 

they know 


Broker-Bailer-Grifter- THIEF 


Broker, Bailer, 
Grifter, Dealer. 
Soldier, Holder, 
Carrier, THIEF. 


FoldUnfold 
Table of Contents 
Broker 
Bailer 
Grifter 
Soldier 
Holder 

Thief 


Broker 


The Agent sipped her coffee as the Subject stepped in. 


"7:30 AM precisely," she noted in her newspaper crossword. Every 
day, it's a free-market Colombian roast, black, Jenna thought. While 
every night he's roasting a Free-Colombian Blackmarket.