At that Gears looks up at the screen, freezing the image before it 
ends. He stared at the man on the screen for several long minutes, 
letting everything process. He was now the man in charge, the 
Overseer at the top of the pyramid. He should feel something. Some 
small bit of... something. But he'd never admit it. 


He simply nodded at the image on the screen. "Thank you, Father. 
Rest in Peace." 


4 


"Yes, yes... ha! That would be perfect!" Mann couldn't help but 
laugh to himself. So much information, so many things for him to do. 


"010! We can expand it! Humanity will do what needs to be done, 
not what they want to do!" His fingers flickered across the keyboard, 
and then stopped as his screen froze. "Access denied? What kind of 
Crap is-" 


"Hey, four, how's it going, man?" The young teen on the screen 
smiled. "Hey, sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the O5 council 
has held a vote of no confidence, and, welp, you're out!" 


"O5 council? THERE IS NO O05 COUNCIL!" Mann paused, taking a 
deep breath and standing up. "Apparently, | didn't erase you as 
thoroughly as | had planned. That can be easily rect—" Again, Mann 
was interrupted, as 11 more video feeds popped up on his screen, 
each of them filled with the shadowy outline of ahuman head and 
shoulders. Each of them displayed the words 'No confidence’ in 
green at the bottom. 


"No! No! | did this! | planned it all! You cannot do this! | am the 
Administrator! The power is mine! The power is—" BANG! Mann, 
the top half of his head gone, takes two steps, still trying to mouth 
words. A second gun shot echoes throughout the room, and Mann 
falls to the floor, his body twitching. His assailant fires twice more, 
and, finally, the Mann who would be Administrator lies dead. The 
man who killed him slips into the just vacated seat. Still warm. 


"Dr. Mann is dead. Took a bit to kill him, looks like the files were 
right about him doing some self augmentation. I'll have the boys 
down in research look at him. Is there any pressing business for the 
council, at this time?" Negatives from each of the Council members. 
"In that case, |, Frederick Heiden... shit, | mean O5-4, declare this 
Council Meeting closed." 


05-4 stared down at the corpse of his predecessor. It had been a 
long day. It was only going to get longer. He took a moment to kick 
the corpse in the side. "God dammit, you asshole. This wasn't what | 
wanted." 


And then he turned back to the computer, and to his duties. 


Anomalous Incidents 


Boyd kicked his heels onto the mahogany desk, a copper penny in 
his hand. "Call it." 


"...tails." Fish shifted uncomfortably, reclining in the opposite chair. 


"...Nope. What is that, seventieth time in a row?" Boyd grinned, 
holding the penny so it glinted in the light. "I do believe that | like this 
one. D'ya think they'll let us keep it? Or hold onto it for a while?" 


"Well... we probably shouldn't... might get in trouble." 
"Ah Fish, you're no fun at all." 


Item Description: A penny which, when flipped, will 
always land "heads up". 

Date of Recovery: - - 

Location of Recovery:  , 

Current Status: Melted down. 

Notes: Can't believe that none of the researchers kept 
this to win bets with. 


"...uh, Dr. Roget?" Research Assistant Dwyer poked his head into 
the office. "| got those reports finished...Hello?" Finding himself 
alone, he slipped into the office and sat in the chair. 


He thumb-twiddled, glancing around as the clock ticked. His eyes 
fell upon some stuff on the desk. He smiled. / love bobbleheads He 
picked it up and, with a flick- 


A janitor swept the hall outside, whistling a tune to himself. He 
noticed the door to Dr. Roget's office ajar, and with a grumble of 
curiosity, peeked his head through the crack. Research Assistant 
Dwyer, a man in his late 20's, was sprawled out on the floor, his 
neck at a rather unpleasant angle. 


The janitor groans with a roll of his eyes. Not another one. He set his 
broom aside, heading into the office and grabbing the foot of the 
now deceased researcher. With a grunt of effort, he gave the leg a 
quick tug, moving it toward the door. 


Dr. Roget had been walking back to his office after a particularly 
tasty casserole. He hummed to himself as he turned to corner, and 
saw the janitor lugging something out of his office. "Hey, what's that 
there?" 


"Another dead kid." The janitor gave the leg another jerk, pulling the 
body out of the office. "You need to start lockin' your door." 


Dr. Roget groaned. "| always forget to put that damned thing away 
when I'm out of the office. When will these punk kids learn to not 
touch other people's shit? It only leads to tragedy." 


"Start hidin' it or somethin'’." The janitor grabbed his broom and 
started dragging Dwyer's corpse down the hall. "cause I'm not 
cleanin’ up the next one." 


Item Description: A -brand bobblehead that, when 
bobbled, causes the user's head to bobble with it. Can 
create neck injuries if bobbled too hard. 

Date of Recovery: - -19 

Location of recovery: Seattle, Washington 

Current Status: On Dr. Roget's office desk In Dr. Roget's 
office safe. 


The maintenance shed was extremely humid, and Agent Boyd was 
grumbling as she dug through piles of tools. She stood up and wiped 
her brow."It should not be this difficult to find a damned hammer." 


"Let's just say we couldn't find it and leave." Agent Valint grinned as 
she leaned against the shed door, making no attempt to help. 


"We already did that, they won't buy it a second time." Boyd stooped 
down and began to dig through a pile of rakes. Why do they have 
so many damn rakes... 


Valint rolls her eyes. "You know you'd think they'd just do it 


themselves, and | doubt it's in the rake pile." 


Boyd tossed a particularly rusty rake to the side. "You never know, 
with the way they keep shop around here they could be 
anywhere....ah!" She pulled a hammer from a shelf, kicking up a 
cloud of dust. "Hammer is located!" 


Valint sighed. "Right.... it would be on the shelf." Can't they ever 
organize this damn place for once? 


She stood up, contemplating the hammer in his hand. "Alright... | 
kinda want to hit some stuff now. To make sure it works." 


Valint shrugged. "Whatever, not like we have anything better to do." 


"Do we have any planks... or nails..." She dove back into the stuff, 
soon returning with a wooden plank and a rusty nail. Boyd offered 
the nail, plank and hammer to Valint. "You want to do the honors?" 


"Sure, why the hell not." Valint lined up the nail and hammer, took a 
swing... and a miss. 


"Nice one." 


Valint frowns. "What the fuck?" She swung again, with the result 
being a second miss. 


Boyd sniggered. "Having problems?" 
"Fucking hell, you do it." She shoved the hammer at Boyd. 


"Alright, let me show you how its done." She swung with all her 
might, directly onto her thumb. 


Twitch 
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU" 


Item Description: Hammer which will consistently miss 
the nail intended as its target when used by humans. 
Use of machinery or robots to guide the hammer results 
in normal function. 


Date of Recovery: - - 

Location of Recovery: , 

Current Status: Identified by agents working in Site 19's 
maintenance shed, currently in storage. 


"Well then." Agent Ekblad removed his hat, squinting at the skylight. 
"| do believe that is Love-Love." 


Item Description: A white table-tennis ball produced by 
the DHS company, marked as "Four Star". Note that 
DHS is only known to manufacture balls up to "Three 
Star" grade. In addition to showing an unusually efficient 
bounciness, it launches with extreme velocity when in 
contact with DHS-made table tennis bat rubber. 

Date of Recovery - - 

Location of Recovery: Site- , Recreation Room 
Current Status: Item's anomalous properties were 
discovered when Agent Ekblad used it in a friendly 
match against Researcher. Item flew through open 
skylight, current location unknown. 


"| don't even get this one." Agent Boyd held the wig gingerly, at a fair 
distance from her body. "| mean really, what's the point of having a 
wig that only works if you already have hair?" 


Fish stared forlornly at the tufts of hair littering the floor. "... You 
didn't have to cut my hair to find out." 


"Well, you say that, but in all fairness it would've taken at least 20 
minutes to find a bald guy to test this with. Much quicker this way." 
Boyd stretched the wig onto Fish's now smooth cranium. 


Fish looked up. "What'd it do?" 
".... Huh. Can't say | expected that." 


Item Description: A wig that mimics the hairstyle of its 
wearer. When worn by bald persons, it transforms into a 
rubber swimming cap. 

Date of Recovery: / / 

Location of Recovery: shop in Omsk. 


signs of further putrefaction. 


Visual apparitions or unexplained noises will spontaneously manifest 
within SCP-787. These incidents have not occurred when SCP-787 
is occupied. Attempts to enter SCP-787 after these events will result 
in violent physical expulsion from SCP-787 by an unknown force, 
accompanied by severe organ damage and internal bleeding. The 
period this secondary effect remains varies, but has not lasted 
longer than 72 hours. 


Recorded anomalous activity within SCP-787 includes: 


* 08/01/1988: Sound of pounding against doors and windows 
on the left side of SCP-787, lasting seven minutes and fifteen 
seconds. Interior cameras picked up no movement during this 
period. 

02/23/1990: Male voice heard in forward men’s wash closet, 
repeating the phrase “Philosophers always run from the 
advanced thickening treatment” five times. 

10/06/1993: In-flight movie activates, displaying a repeating 
series of seven black-and-white still images of a deceased 
male human, accompanied by a female voice reading a 
gynecology manual in Czech. Lasts for forty-three minutes. 
12/27/1993: “Fasten Seatbelts” sign flickered on and off for 
three hours and forty-one minutes, accompanied by a 
repeated loop of the first 15 seconds of “White Rabbit” by 
Jefferson Airplane played over the speaker system. This is the 
longest recorded anomalous event within SCP-787. 
07/30/1997: Indistinct humanoid figure manifests in aisle next 
to seat H43 and removes the emergency air supply. Figure 
places breathing mask on and stands still for two minutes and 
fifteen seconds, before removing mask and walking out of 
frame. Figure does not appear on any other cameras. 
01/15/2001: Manifestation of an indistinct humanoid figure 
approximately 1 meter in height. Figure sits in the co-pilot’s 
chair for three minutes and fifty seconds, making soft 
whimpering noises, before vomiting onto the control console 
and exiting the cockpit. Examination of the vomit revealed 
traces of nitrous oxide, thorium, bird droppings, and three 
human fingernails. 


Current Status: Incinerated. 


"C'mon, you can scrub better than that." Agent Boyd grinned, 
walking around her crouched partner. "No pain no gain, am | right?" 


"We've been... working... for hours... | don't think... this is going to 
work." Fish panted, scrubbing the almost-squeaky clean polo shirt 
over a washpan with all the force his wiry body could muster. 


"You do make a valid point. Perhaps we could try a more efficient 
method of cleaning.” 


Fish sat back, wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. "Like... 
what?" 


"Hmmm..." 


Item Description: A [REDACTED] brand polo shirt, with a 
large mustard stain on the front. The stain proved to be 
impossible to remove. 

Date of Recovery: / /1999 

Location of Recovery: , GA, USA. 

Current Status: Destroyed during a vigorous attempt to 
clean it. 


Another Boring Day 


Special Agent Broderick sat in front of his computer, idly looking 
through closed case documents. Rat people in the subway? Turned 
out to be some group of perverts dressed in rat costumes. 
Mysterious artifact that killed all its owners? The damned thing was 
radioactive. A cult leader capable of real magic? A washed up stage 
magician and a humidifier filled with LSD. He would kill for once, just 
once, something he was sent out on to be a real anomaly. 
Considering he was in New York City, something genuinely strange 
was bound to pop up eventually. 


He got the call about something weird going on at around two in the 
afternoon, just when he was reading about the moving statues that 
turned out to be a performance art group last summer. The call said 
that there was a girl with three eyes freaking out in Penn Station. It 
took him twenty minutes to get there from the field office. 


When he finally got there, a member of security led him to the area 
where she was. As he got there, he observed the situation for a 
moment: the girl was backed into a corner and obviously frightened. 
She looked perfectly normal aside from the large third eye in her 
forehead. It was a dull red and seemed to lack both white and pupil, 
making it difficult to know where it was looking. A hat lay a few feet 
away from her on the ground, one that could have been used to 
cover the eye. 


A security officer approached her; her forehead eye glowed red and 
the officer's hat and jacket ignited. He dropped his hat and tore off 
his jacket as Agent Broderick went to the head of security, after 
watching this display with astonishment and excitement: he would 
finally encounter something abnormal! He explained who he was, 
and was given permission to approach the girl. He did so, raising his 
arms above his head, one hand holding his badge open in her 
direction, the other empty. 


As he walked into the perimeter he said, "Hello, I'm Nathan. I'm not 


here to hurt you; I'm here to help." 


She backed further into the corner, looking away as if trying to keep 
him out of the field of her third eye's vision. He stopped a few feet 
from her. 


"| want to get you out of here unharmed. Can you please tell me 
your name?" he asked calmly. 


The girl looked at him from the corner of her normal left eye, her 
hand blocking her third eye from view. 


"Megan," she said quietly in a shaky voice. 


He picked up the hat that was on the ground and offered it to her 
"Was this yours?" 


Megan nodded and reached out to grab it, then placed it on her 
head to cover her eye. Once this happened, he said "Why don't you 
come with me, | can take you somewhere you will be safe?" 


Megan nodded and moved out of the corner. He cleared a path 
ahead of her through the crowd as they made their way to a hallway. 
When they were almost at the end of the hallway, she slumped and 
fell over, a small metal dart sticking out of her back. Down the hall 
stood a man in a suit, with one arm raising a badge and the other 
placing the weapon on the floor as Agent Broderick was reaching for 
his gun. 


From the door he and Megan were heading to came two more men 
in suits wheeling a stretcher. As they approached they identified 
themselves as Agents Howard, Fine, and Howard of the Social 
Conformity Program, which he never heard of but they explained it 
to be a group made so that people like Megan can be helped to live 
normal lives, and more people knowing about it was a threat to 
people like Megan. They asked him to help them gently put her on 
the stretcher to get her to an ambulance they positioned at the exit 
they were using. 


As they wheeled her to the exit, he tried to ask them questions, but 
kept being instructed to wait until they were in the ambulance. Once