| put the phone down and rushed downstairs, almost busting my ass 
because | missed a step. The kitchen was right at the bottom of the 
stairs, and that's where Mom spent most of her time. She loved to 
cook. | ran into the kitchen, but my mom wasn't there. | decided I'd 
go check the living room; no one there, either. And that's when | 
noticed that my door was open and Mom was standing on the porch 
looking up, just like everyone else. 


| slowly walked over to her. "Mom, what's going on?" She looked at 
me with an indescribable fear in her eyes, motioning me to step 
outside with her. And so | did. 


There was this giant layer of rain floating gracefully above us. | could 
see more rain land on top of that layer, forming more and more. It 
started to get really cold because the Sun couldn't reach us, and so 


the majority of people in the neighborhood went back inside to get a 
blanket. 


| suppose it all started with one drop; just.. stopping, fifty meters 
from where it was about to crash. And, one after another, other 
droplets followed, halting suddenly in midair. 


My immediate reaction was that of glee due to the fact that it had 
started raining, followed by a sense of dread as towards what might 
happen next. The rain has to go somewhere, right? 


And that's when it hit me. 


As the layers of water piled atop one another, | realized that the rain 
itself wasn't going to stop anytime soon. And for as long as that 
body of water kept getting bigger, and bigger, one question 
remained... 


...what happens when this ocean above us begins to obey the laws 
of gravity again? 


Every Other Day 


He wakes up in a bed that’s his. No one else is there. The house is 
his; it has his pictures in it. He drives his car to work. He knows all of 
the people at work, and does the job he knows. People talk to him. 
He drives his car back home and watches TV he knows. Eventually 
he goes to bed. 


He wakes up in a bed that’s his. A woman, his wife or girlfriend, is 
there. The house is theirs; it has their pictures in it. He drives his van 
to work. He knows most of the people at work, and does the job he 
did three years ago. People talk to him. He drives his van back 
home and watches TV he recognizes. Eventually he goes to bed. He 
doesn't talk to his wife; he doesn't know her. 


He wakes up on a floor that used to he his. There is no bed, or any 
other furniture. No one else is there. The house used to be his; it 
has imprints of pictures in it. He walks to work. His car is at his 
current house. He knows the people at work, but there aren’t very 
many of them. He does a job he doesn’t know. People ignore him. 
He walks to the store, then back to his old house. He rolls out a 
sleeping bag he bought on the floor to go to sleep. 


He wakes up in his sleeping bag, on the floor, in someone else’s 
house. Someone is upstairs. It’s like his house, except there are 
other peoples’ pictures on the walls. He takes his sleeping bag and 
grabs their keys. He walks to work, because he doesn’t have a 
zeppelin license. He leaves their keys in the zeppelin door. He 
knows one person at work, and does a job he didn’t know existed. 
People are frightened of him. He’s taken out of the building by 
police. He requests his sleeping bag, but goes to sleep sitting on the 
jail cell bench. 


He wakes up on the ground, in mud. No one else is there. It’s like a 
forest, but the branches are bright green. He walks to find 
somebody, and finds out that the sky is tan-colored. He thinks he 
hears a noise in the trees. He doesn’t recognize anything, and 
nobody is around. Occasionally he feels frightened. There’s certainly 
things in the trees. He goes to sleep, fearing what's in the trees. 


He wakes up on the floor, in a cell that’s his. Eventually somebody 
comes by with breakfast. The cell is the Foundation’s. He says he 
went a few places, and would like to document them. He walks to 
his researcher’s office and fills out forms he knows. He talks to his 
researcher, and is told he'll need some tests. He takes more tests 
he knows. One of those last places gave him syphilis. He wanders 
the Site, and peeks in on some people he knows. He eventually 
goes back to his cell. 


SCP-836: Structural Cancer 


Item #: SCP-836 
Object Class: Keter 


Special Containment Procedures: Live samples of SCP-836 
should be stored on glass in a two-layer CFRP casing filled with air 
with specific humidity not exceeding 5%. The inner casing should be 
periodically checked for signs of excessive thinning and/or damage, 
replacing panels if necessary. Damaged panels are to be sterilized 
by heating them to a temperature exceeding 950 degrees Celsius 
over a course of five minutes; subsequently they can be treated as 
regular waste or used as substrate. 


In the event of inner casing breach, outer casing as well as the 
entire storage room are to be urgently subjected to similar heat 
treatment. The storage unit for SCP-836 samples may not be 
connected to any other SCP unit structurally or via engineering 
networks. 


In the case of an uncontained SCP-836 outbreak, the local utilities 
networks are to be shut down and the area radiating at least 200 
metres from any infected building is to be evacuated and subjected 
to procedure 28-Surtur (Suggested cover: military satellite planned 
crash). The area of within 2 km radius of SCP-836 outbreak is to be 
monitored for presence of further outbreaks for a period of 14 
months. 


In areas marked as at-risk for SCP-836 outbreaks, building codes 
should be edited so as to ensure the systematic replacement of 
structures over 70 years of age. 


Description: SCP-836 is the designation given to a condition 
occurring within clay, bricks or concrete, though secondary 
propagation can affect most known structural materials. The 
initiating factors are currently subject to research, though the 


Every SCP: A Mission: Series Introduction 


Previous tale (you are here) — Next Tale 


When Elijah Haverty-Jones saw what — or rather, who — was sitting 
in the containment cell, his first reaction was “Oh, goddammit.” 


Even though he had been situated in the Foundation for exactly this 
reason, he did not feel any better about what was to come. It 
seemed inevitable that one of the four genetically identical 
dimension-hoppers was going to be noticed by the Foundation one 
day, but gods, did it have to be this one? 


From the speaker attached in the containment cell, a distinctly 
childish voice floated through. 


“So uh, hey, are we gonna like, do anything here? Or am | just 
supposed to sit here?” 


Eli forced himself to resist the urge to walk in there and strangle the 
kid, because that would only cause him more trouble. Just keep 
taking deep breaths, Eli. Remember what the doctor told you. High 
blood pressure will only give you more problems. The brat would 
like that, wouldn’t they? 


Instead of punching through the glass, Eli pressed a small green 
button on the control panel in front of him, leaning over the mic. “Hey 
there, brat. I’ve gotta go talk to my superiors and figure out what the 
hell to do with you, so for right now, sit there and don’t you fucking 
dare move. If you try to run from these people, it'll give us both hell. 
Got it?” 


There was a pause between Eli’s words and the brat’s response. “I 
have aname, you know. Or did you forget again?” 


“The hell do you mean again — nope, you know what, fuck it, I’m not 
getting into it with you. Because that’s what you like, and right now 


you're in trouble. Big fucking trouble.” 


The brat started humming, apparently not interested in listening to 
Eli, instead swinging their legs under the metal chair and table they 
were currently handcuffed to. 


Well, at least they can’t make anything worse for right now... right? 
Eli shook his head, braids falling across his face as he did. 


Time to go talk to the higher-ups and see if he could make the 
situation at least a tiny bit better. But there was no guarantee the 
brat wouldn’t fuck it all up. 


“Look, | Know what I’m saying sounds fu — | mean, crazy, but you 
have to let the kid go,” Eli said, leaning over the desk of his superior, 
bracing himself on the desk with his elbows. “Yeah, they’re the exact 
definition of anomalous, but they have a purpose.” 


“Are you implying that other anomalous objects in this facility have 
no purpose?” The superior asked, waving one hand in the air. “All of 
them had a purpose at one point. Why is this one any different?” 


“Because this one is helping to keep the world intact, | just explained 
that, you — ” Eli explained, cutting himself off before he could call 
his superior an idiot. “Yeah, | know, it sounds like a load of bullshi — 
bullcrap, but believe me, this one really does serve a purpose. 
Without them, the fabric of reality as we know it may collapse.” 


“And | should believe you because?” The superior asked. “I’m sure 
most of the humanoid anomalies in this facility have tried to 
convince us at some point they were necessary for the world to keep 
turning, but the world has continued to spin with them in custody.” 


Eli frowned. Damn, this was going to be harder than he thought. 
“Fine, don’t take my word for it, then. But take this.” 


Reaching into his pocket, the dark-skinned man drew a USB stick 
from his pocket, shoving at his superior. “Don’t worry, it’s only got 
one file on it. And it won’t kill you or anything, it’s not memetic. If you 
don’t believe me, you can run your own tests on it.” 


Eli turned on his heel, leaving the room and slamming the door 
behind him. 


The superior hummed in response, took the USB, and plugged it 
into the computer. 


Later on, Eli was called back into the office by a now pale-faced 
superior. 


“l’m..." The superior paused, swallowing heavily, "afraid | don’t have 
the clearance to authorize taking the object in question out of 
containment, but this is — this is definitely grounds to take it to the 
higher ups.” 


“Then take it to the damn higher ups,” Eli hissed in response. “And 
maybe you can’t do anything about releasing the kid from custody, 
but at /east tell me what to do with them in the meantime?” 


“For right now, the best thing we can do is nothing,” the superior 
replied. “Keep it occupied with whatever means necessary, and in 
the meantime | will worry about getting it released. But do keep in 
mind it might not work.” 


“I’m well aware of that,” Eli grumbled, shoving his hands in his 
pockets. “And | hope God’ll take mercy on your soul if you can’t, 
‘cause | sure won't.” 


The brat was still in the same position as when Eli left them, which 
gave him reason to sigh in relief for the first time that day. Stress 
from the whole day was starting to get to his head, literally; some of 
his neatly-braided hair was coming undone, frizzy hair sticking out 
from the aforementioned braids. 


“Hey, brat,” Eli said, pressing the green button again so the kid could 
hear him. “Listen, my superior is taking your case to the higher-ups, 
but for right now, you’re gonna be doing jack shit.” 


“That’s no fun,” the brat pouted, crossing the arm that wasn’t 


handcuffed to the chair across their chest. “Can’t you make it go 
faster? And where’s Oliver, by the way?” 


“| dunno where they put the damn cat, but they’re not gonna let you 
have him back if you try to pull any funny shit,” Eli replied. “So no 
portals. Yeah, | Know you could open one up, but don't, or else 
they'll never listen to either of us.” 


“Phooey.” 


“Dictator, I’m fuckin’ serious,” Eli snapped, eyebrow twitching. “Don’t 
do anything, just sit there and answer their questions if they have 
any. Be good and you'll be outta here. Got it?” 


“But what if they don’t?” The brat — Dictator — quipped back. “I don’t 
exactly have a replacement, y’know, unless you wanna convince Liz 
to let one of her kids take my place.” 


“| think we both know that’s not gonna happen,” Eli sighed. He felt 
drained, and he’d spent less than an hour actually talking to the brat. 
“Just... Keep doing nothing. Got it?” 


“Sure, fine, whatever.” 


Dictator continued to pout, and Eli released the green button, 
slumping back into the swivel chair in front of the control panel. 


It only took a few hours for Eli to hear back from the higher-ups, 
which was odd. Normally, these things took days, sometimes weeks, 
but apparently it was important enough that they got back to him 
immediately. What he heard was partially cause for celebration, but 
also enough to somehow make him even more stressed than he 
already was. 


He gave a heaving sigh as he opened the containment cell where 
Dictator was still located, sitting pretty like he had told them to. He 
was accompanied by one of his superiors, another scientist whom 
he did not know well. The other scientist looked quite nervous, but 
Eli was cool as a cucumber. At least, he was for now. There was no 
telling what hearing Dictator’s voice would do to him later. 


Once the airtight-sealed door was unlocked and opened, Dictator 
immediately perked up, looking much like an excited puppy as they 
strained at their restraints. 


“Finally, | thought you'd never come to see me!” Dictator exclaimed, 
swinging their legs a bit faster. “Are you gonna get me out of here? 
Who’s your friend? Where’s Oliver? Are we gonna —” 


“Kindly shut the hell up,” Eli growled before the other scientist could 
get a word in. “We've got a proposal for you, brat, and you can take 
it, or leave it. But | doubt you’re gonna wanna leave it.” 


The scientist took the seat directly in front of and across from 
Dictator at the table, and Eli walked around to stand next to Dictator, 
putting one hand on their shoulder. Although this was usually a 
comforting act, Eli’s fingers dug into Dictator’s shoulder blade, 
causing them to flinch. 


The other scientist cleared his throat before speaking. “Our proposal 
goes as such, Mx. O’Malley. You will be allowed to continue your 
dimensional upkeep for nine months out of the year. For three 
months, however, you must stay within the Foundation, and submit 
to tests and experiments conducted by the Foundation. You will be 
allowed to keep your... companion, but both of you must be under 
24/7 surveillance. Because he seems to know you so well, Dr. Elijah 
Haverty-Jones will be in charge of your surveillance.” 


“Oh... well, that doesn’t sound like much fun,” Dictator muttered, 
looking away from the scientist for a moment. A harsh jab in the ribs 
from Eli got them to look back at the scientist, grumbling “ouch” 
under their breath. “But, | guess as long as | get to keep Oliver, it 
won't be so bad, right?” 


The scientist ignored their question and continued on. “While you 
are in the Foundation’s care, you will be free to travel with Dr. 
Haverty-Jones during his daily rounds, as long as you do not prove 
to be dangerous or reckless in any manner. Is that understood?” 


“Yeah, | suppose,” Dictator replied, twirling a lock of hair around 
their finger with their free hand. “But, like, what if something really 
bad happens while I’m here?” 


“If the universe begins to... pull apart, as witnessed in the video, you 
will be dispatched along with an MTF unit to the location of the 
abnormality, and you will be allowed to fix it. Afterwards, you will 
return to the Foundation immediately for debriefing. Understood?” 


“Okay, so... basically, big Bro gets to babysit me for three months 
each year? Sweet. This might not be boring after all!” 


“Yeah, remember though, / decide when you get to come out of your 
cell,” Eli growled warningly. “So you'd better do everything | tell you 
to. Got it?” 


Dictator giggled. “Yeah, sure. Got it.”