"It's not like we don't appreciate what you do, you understand, but 
what you do simply isn't done." The HR man seemed to barely pay 
any attention as he enumerated one by one the reasons for the little 
grey man's obsolete nature. "You used to be an expert on the 
Bronze Crusaders, and they're no longer around. Then you 
transferred to the Prism Program, and we all know how well that 
went, eh? Then there was that thing with the training, and the less 
said about that, the better..." 


And on and on. The little grey man sat there for what seemed like a 
small eternity as the HR man droned on and on. He was going to get 
a pension, of course, quite respectable, and a little bronze plate 
somewhere on the site to commemorate his contributions to various 
projects. Maybe even on one of the new benches for the garden, the 


HR man suggested. They would be happy to provide him with 
recommendations for any future endeavors he might want to 
participate in, though those would have to be fabricated in advance, 
and could he clear his desk by Wednesday? That would be great. 


Wednesday has come, and the little grey man was on his way out. 
Someone left a goodbye card on his desk. The man was touched for 
a moment, then he noticed they spelled his name wrong. From the 
common room, he could hear the sound of the farewell party held at 
his honor. No one noticed he wasn't there, of course. From the 
sounds of it they were just cutting the cake. 


Oh well. He was diabetic anyway. 


Lifting his little box, the grey little man left his office for the last time. 
Maintenance had already removed his name from the door. 


He walked through the site that has been his home for the last thirty 
years, and though some gazes lingered on him briefly, no one called 
to him. He reached the foyer. The secretary was new and paid him 
no heed. Box in hand, he shuffled his way to the long wall facing the 
front entrance. It was covered in little bronze plates, each bearing 
the name of one retiree or another. Shiny little monuments to 
lifetimes of world saving labor. 


Was it sad that the little grey man could recall none of them? 
He did not know. 


The secretary did not look out as he left the site for the last time. 


The Hatbot Chronicles 


Dr. Mann sat low in the seat, like a student sitting before 
the principal. "| suppose you want to know what 
happened." 


"We have six escaped SCPs, over fifty casualties, and 
tens of thousands of dollars of damage. Yes, Doctor, | 
think it's safe to say an explanation is in order." Dr. 

sat across from Dr. Mann, a serious expression on his 
face. "Now, I've looked over the logs, but | need you to 
clarify several points." 


"Yes, sir," Dr. Mann said, sinking a little lower in the 
chair. 


"Good. Now, take it from beginning. What happened?" 
asked Dr. 


"Well, it all started when | was shaving the pufferkitten..." 


Dr. Mann stroked the kitten's head gently, calming it, as he turned 
on the clippers. He didn't want to trigger the kitten's defense 
mechanism until he had finished denuding it. "That's a good 
subject," he cooed. "That's the way to advance the cause of 
science..." 


There was a loud crash outside, and the kitten turned into a ball of 
fluff. Dr. Mann sighed. It would take some time to calm it down 
again. He decided to look. 


Dr. Valence was yelling at several maintenance workers who were 
in the midst of moving a large box. One corner was broken slightly, 
apparently from an impact with the wall. Curious. 


"Good day, Dr. Valence," Dr. Mann said. "I'm afraid you've 
interrupted a valuable experiment. | don't mean to complain, but | 


need quiet to continue." 


"Blame these idiots," said Dr. Valence. "They're handling valuable 
computing equipment like they were taking an old sofa to the curb. If 
they damage it, | swear I'll have them all assigned Keter duty." 


"Pardon my curiosity, doctor, but what is in the box?" Dr. Mann tried 
to look into the damaged corner, but he was unable to make 
anything out. 


"Ah! Come by the server room at three. I'll be unveiling it then. Don't 
tell anyone, but the contents of this box will change the face of the 
Foundation." Dr. Valence beamed with pride. 


"Really?" said Dr. Mann. "Well, | wouldn't miss that for the world." 


"So, that's when you first encountered the device," said 
Dr. 


"And | wish it had been the last," said Dr. Mann. "If I'd 
known what was going to happen, I'd have tried to stop it 
sooner." 


"What happened next?" asked the psychologist. 


"Well, | went back to my laboratory and finished the 
experiment," said Dr. Mann. "It was quite fascinating, 
really..." 


"I've... seen the pictures," the psychologist said, turning 
a little green. 


"Its fur will grow back," Dr. Mann said, defensively. 
"Let's just skip to the meeting with Dr. Valence, please." 


It was half past three when Dr. Mann finally reached the server 
room. He'd been distracted by the results of his experiment, and had 
then gotten lost in the halls of the facility for twenty minutes before 
finally getting turned in the right direction by a guard. As he arrived, 
he was surprised to see how many people were gathered inside. It 
was rather crowded. He recognized several other researchers, as 


well as his good friend, Strelnikov, Dmitri Arkadeyevich. 
"Excuse me," he said, trying to get inside without touching anyone. 


"Ah, Mann, there you are," said Dr. Valence. "You're a bit late. I've 
already unveiled Hatbot." 


"Hatbot?" he asked. 


"Yes, Hatbot!" He stood aside and motioned to a figure Dr. Mann 
hadn't noticed among the crowding figures. 


It was roughly human-like, through it had shiny black plastic for skin 
and a row of lights for a face. It looked like something out of a 
Hollywood science fiction picture, save for the fedora perched on its 
head. 


"Why is it wearing a hat?" asked Dr. Mann. "It isn't normal for robots, 
surely?" 


"Oh, it was a joke by one of my technicians," said Dr. Valence. "| 
was going to call it the Fast Learning Artificial Intelligence System, 
but they started calling it Hatbot, and, well, the name stuck." 


"Fast learning Hatbot call it normal, surely," said Hatbot. It spoke 
with a smooth, very human voice. 


Dr. Mann raised one eyebrow. 


"Well, it's not very intelligent yet," said Dr. Valence. "It learns from 
conversation. The more it hears, the better it gets at understanding 
words and forming sentences. But the real use is in routing 
communications. From the server room, it can handle all of the 
Foundation's communication needs." 


"Oh, that's very nice..." said Dr. Mann, disappointed that Dr. 
Valence hadn't meant a more literal changing of face. He so enjoyed 
a good cosmetic surgery. 


"Very intelligent at screaming at Jews and praising communists, 
Mann," said Hatbot. 


abandonment, and presumably [REDACTED] - 
the reference, if it is indeed a reference, is cryptic. 

@ Little is understood about the "spiritual revelation" 
brought forth through Mr. by SCP-960. At 
first glance, it appears to be a short phrase written 
in nearly illegible Hebrew, reading "| am the way, 
the truth, and the life"; however, on closer 
inspection, the Hebrew characters were 
composed of strings of English words, detailing 
what appears to be a [DATA EXPUNGED]. From 
the quantity of remains in the sewer, it can be 
concluded that the acts described were performed 
a number of times. Surviving family members of 
those taken have not yet been provided with a 
cover story. 

@ A one-act play concerning the tribulations of a 
man who is sent to prison for a crime he did not 
commit, and who responds to this by breaking 
free and slaughtering the jury members who 
voted him guilty. Culminates in the protagonist's 
onstage suicide. Carved into the floor with 
something metallic. 

@ "How do you get an elephant to laugh?" "a 
feather, a feather, two feathers" [Assumed to be a 
joke; found etched deeply into the skin on Mr. 

's back. Unknown how this occurred.] 

@ A number of comprehensive diagrams of the 
anatomy of a rat, accompanied by the claim, 
written on the ceiling of the sewer and allegedly 
"proven" by the drawings, that a rat's brain can 
process and comprehend a number of languages, 
including English and Russian. This theory has 
not been submitted to testing, for obvious 
reasons; however, the lack of ladders or 
scaffolding in the sewers makes the location of 
these diagrams much more interesting than their 
actual content. 


On the night of / / _ , the subject left the sewers and broke into a 
pawn shop; here, he stole a number of weapons and a massive 


"Ah, yes," Dr. Valence said quickly, "there are still some quirks to be 
ironed out. We must keep him away from D-Class personnel. They 
keep corrupting his database." 


"That's very nice," said Dr. Mann. "But | really must be going. Lots of 
work to do, you know how it is..." 


"Your life will be reset at the point of midnight in England," said 
Hatbot. 


"And a good day to you too, Hatbot," said Dr. Mann, before hurrying 
out. 


"And was that the first time it threatened your life?" 
asked Dr. 


"| believe so," said Dr. Mann. "I didn't think much of it at 
the time, but in light of later events..." 


"When was the next time you saw Hatbot?" the 
psychologist asked. 


"Later that evening,” said Dr. Mann. 


The laboratory was quiet and dark, the only light spilling out from Dr. 
Mann's office, where he was sitting down to a microwaved burrito. 
He was cutting it into smaller pieces when he heard something 
opening the door to his lab. 


"Hello?" he asked. "Is anyone there?" He picked up his auto-scalpel, 
in case of an intruder or a patient. 


"She is worn out by use,” said a familiar voice. 


"Oh, it's you, Hatbot,”" Dr. Mann said, putting the auto-scalpel down. 
"You shouldn't be here. You belong in the server room." 


"You shouldn't be here," said Hatbot. 


"What? What do you—Oh, of course. You're only parroting me. Well, 
let's get you back to the server room." Dr. Mann put on his android- 
handling gloves and began to guide Hatbot out of his laboratory. 


Hatbot didn't respond. It seemed rooted to the spot. 


Dr. Mann pushed a little more firmly. "Come on, it's time to get you 
home." 


Suddenly, Hatbot turned, hitting Dr. Mann with the side of its arm 
and knocking him to the floor. "He comes!" 


"What the devil?" Dr. Mann asked as Hatbot stepped forward. 


Suddenly, the ceiling broke, and something heavy fell on top of Dr. 
Mann. 


"This place is a lawsuit waiting to happen," said Agent Yoric, sitting 
up. "Oh, hey, it's Hatbot." 


"My... lungs..." Dr. Mann said weakly, trying to breathe. 


"Oh, sorry," said Yoric. He stood up and helped Dr. Mann to his feet. 
"Hey, sorry about the ceiling. They don't make 'em like they used 
to." 


"Think nothing of it," said Dr. Mann as he brushed himself off. 
"Listen, would you help me get Hatbot to the server room? 
Something seems to be off with it." 


"Ah, okay,” said Yoric. "How do you mean, off?" 


"Well, if | didn't know better, I'd swear it just attacked me," said Dr. 
Mann. 


"Neh, Hatbot's harmless. It wouldn't hurt a fly," said Yoric, patting 
Hatbot on the back. 


"As you say," said Dr. Mann. "Still, let's get it out of my laboratory 
and back where it belongs." 


"Did you become suspicious then?" asked Dr. 


"A bit," said Dr. Mann. "But | don't really know much 
about robots. For all | knew, that could have been 
normal." 


"When did you know there was something wrong?" 
asked the psychologist. 


"When it tried to kill me again the next night. That's when 
| began to detect a pattern,” said Dr. Mann. 


Dr. Mann was half-asleep in his office when he heard something 
moving around in his laboratory. He sighed and reached for the 
auto-scalpel. He opened the door in time to see a black plastic figure 
leaving the room, while a table began to blaze. 


It took ten minutes to control the blaze, at least five of which was 
spent trying to figure out how to activate the sprinklers before 
grabbing a fire extinguisher. He was now covered head to toe in fire- 
retardant foam. Only his foam-proof snood protected his mustache. 


He wanted to march right up to Dr. Valence and demand an 
explanation. Unfortunately, he didn't know where Dr. Valence might 
be this time of night. That left only one avenue. 


"Dr. Rights! Dr. Valence's creation tried to kill me!" Dr. Mann said as 
he burst into the break room. 


"What? Slow down, Mann. What's wrong?" asked Dr. Rights. 


"| was in my office and that android of Dr. Valence's set my lab on 
fire. And last night, it hit me. Very hard." Dr. Mann tried to project a 
tone of righteous indignation. 


"Ooooh, poor baby. Are you sure Hatbot was trying to kill you, 
sweetie?" asked Dr. Rights. 


"| saw it!" said Dr. Mann. "With my own eyes." 


"Well, it will be on the security tapes, dear. Come on," said Dr. 
Rights, guiding Dr. Mann to the video room with a gentle hand. 


"And what happened then?" asked Dr. 


"There was nothing. Not a damned thing on those 
blasted tapes." Dr. Mann tugged his muttonchops in 
irritation. "And of course Dr. Rights assumed | was 


dreaming. She gave me a cookie and some warm milk, 
but no salvation from the machine." 


"Did you suspect it may have edited the footage?” asked 
Dr. 


"| knew it had done something, but as I've said, | don't 
know much about computers and networks and the like. 
All | knew was that no one would believe me about the 
threat of Hatbot." 


"Can you expand on that?" asked the psychologist. 


"Well, the problem was that darned near everyone loved 
Hatbot." 


Dr. Mann walked nervously down the hallway. It was just after 
lunchtime, and he still hadn't slept. He was waiting for another 
attack. 


"Have you been hanging around Hatbot?" one guard asked another. 


"Ha! Yes. 'Fuck trees, | climb clouds, motherfucker!" The guard 
laughed raucously. 


"Hell yeah," said the first guard. 


"Don't they understand the threat Hatbot represents?" Dr. Mann 
thought to himself. "Don't they understand he's a menace?" 


“Tovarish Mann!" said a familiar voice. "How is you are doing 
today?" 


"Strelnikov, Dmitri Arkadeyevich! It is good to see you, my friend,” 
Dr. Mann said, glad to see the Russian. "Surely you will believe me." 


"In what are you for need this believed, friend?" asked Agent 
Strelnikov. 


"It's Hatbot. It has tried to kill me, but no one will believe me." Dr. 
Mann was nearly on the point of tears. 


"For make sayings of nothing more," said Strelnikov. "I stop this 
fascist machine for Doktor Mann. Where am | for find this?" 


"Oh, thank you!" said Mann. "It's in the server room." 


"Yes! | am make destroyings of it now," said Strelnikov. He marched 
off, purpose in his stride. 


"And that was the last time you saw Agent Strelnikov?" 
asked Dr. 


"Yes. Poor Strelnikov, Dmitri Arkadeyevich doesn't know 
the site very well. He was depending on the automated 
maps to find his way around. | understand he wasn't 
found for several days." 


"He was all right," said Dr. , "except for a few 
superficial burns from the steam tunnels. Now, what 
happened next?" 


"| guess Hatbot knew | was on to him, because that's 
when it became more subtle." 


Dr. Mann was sitting in his office. He'd taken a short nap, but he'd 
woken up again, knowing Hatbot would come soon enough. He had 
readied his laboratory for defense, but he wanted to be awake when 
it happened, in case his preparations were for naught. 


"Yeeaaarrrgh!" 


Dr. Mann bolted upright. Robots did not scream like that! He looked 
out into the lab, and saw a man dangling from the loop trap he'd set 
at the entrance. There was a package on the floor beneath him. 


"Oh," he said. "You're not a robot." 
"Get me down!" the man said. He wore a maintenance uniform.