"Crap." Aldon sighed. "Do they... Let's see, who do | not like?" 
"Well, they're coming over now." 


Aldon held her head in her hands. "Noooo. Make them go away, 
Finn." 


"And talk to the scary people? Nope." 


"God dammit, Finnegan. One comment. One goddamn comment 
and you never-" 


"Hello, Jakeob." Cassandra 'The Director’ Paulson stood over them, 
her arms crossed and her mouth pulled into a half-smile. 


"Goddamn, it had to be you of all people. Go to Hell, Paulson. | have 
no interest in-" Aldon caught sight of the man with Paulson. Felix 
Cori smiled and lifted and hand in greeting. "Oh. Hey, Felix. Still 
palling around with these losers, huh?" 


"Well, actually, it's just the two of us right now," Felix corrected. "So, 
just the one loser. And I'm kind of The Boss now. Well, The Critic." 


"Oh, god, you're still using titles." Aldon sighed. "Wait, how did you 
become the leader?" 


He palmed the fedora on his head. "Didn't say 'not it' fast enough." 


Aldon couldn't help but laugh. She turned to Finnegan, who had 
ignored a majority of the conversation to continue eating. "For 
context, she's one of the idiots that fueled my desire to move out 
here. He's actually okay, even if he hangs out with a bunch of 


jackasses. Felix, this is Finnegan, my roommate." 
The two simply nodded at each other. 


"So... let's get this over with, | guess," Aldon said. "What do you 
want?" 


"Let me do the talking, Sandra," Felix said. "Allie, we want you to 
join us." 


"Pass." 
"But-" 


Aldon was almost surprised how easy it was to call up the anger she 
had felt earlier. It took a fair amount of restraint to not start shouting. 
"Fuck your group. Even with you in charge. She's still there, and I'm 
sure she'll just strongarm you into recruiting more shitheads. I'm 
flattered you came to me first, though. Unless I'm not, and whoever 
else you tried also had the brains to decline." 


Feix's shoulders slumped under the weight of defeat. "So, that's it? 
You've decided, and nothing can change your mind?" 


Aldon resumed eating. "Pretty much." 


Paulson cleared her throat. "What if | told you we had a way to give 
you a female body?" 


Aldon almost choked. "What?" 


Paulson wore the kind of smile that made Aldon want to instinctively 
punch her. "It's not exactly difficult, if you're not an amateur. We 
have the materials, we just need a new Sculptor." 


"Wait, are you talking that stupid golem thing with the dong cult?" 
Aldon said. "The expensive 'Gee | Hope They Do Not Fuck This Up' 
thing?" 


"No, of course not. We have plenty of clay capable of the task, 
courtesy of our old Sculptor. But we need a replacement for him for 
an upcoming project. Help us with that, and we'll help you with your 


body situation." 


"Just- here." Felix put down a small card with a phone number on it 
before Aldon could say anything. "Call me when you make a 
decision." Then he hurried out, Paulson right behind him. 


Finnegan wiped his mouth and threw the napkin onto his empty 
plate. "What are you gonna do?" 


Aldon rested her head on the table, staring at her food. Despite only 
having one slice, she didn't feel all that hungry anymore. "I don't 
know." 


She glared at the piece of paper with the phone number on it. The 
image of the statue she had worked on that morning sprung to mind. 
The constant dreams-turned-nightmares upon waking up. 


"Fuck it." 


« Anart Antics | Hub | Covert Cursing » 


Covert Cursing 


Jakeob Aldon stared at the clock hanging from the wall with a look 
alternating between utter focus and total boredom. She stood behind 
the register of Spicy Crust Pizza, attempting to will the hour hand 
along. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she would suddenly become 
a reality bender. Maybe she already was, and she just had a very 
specific ability- the ability to make her shift hurry the fuck up and 
end. 


It turned out that she was not a reality bender, however. She was, in 
fact, a totally normal baseline human. Something that might change 
soon. Aldon had spent the last week thinking about what the aussies 
had in mind, and what she would get in return for helping them. A 
new body. Probably a golem fashioned from morphing clay, her soul 
transferred and bound during the clay firing process. Once finished, 
it would be identical to a normal human body. Provided everything 
went absolutely perfectly. 


And if Aldon knew anything, it was that nothing was truly perfect. 
That niggling doubt that she would make some mistake, the idea 
that her own inability would doom her, had dogged her since she 
had made the call to Felix. 


By the time she consciously realized she had gone from trying to 
break normality to very desperately hoping she would adhere to it, a 
whole twenty seconds had passed. It had felt like an hour. Or at 
least a solid five minutes. 


"Go fasterrr," she groaned at the clock. 


"Talking to yourself?" Margret Williams asked, poking Aldon in the 
back as she did so. 


After spazzing out for a moment, Aldon stood up straight."What- no, 
I'm just standing here doing my job, like a normal person." 


"R...right." Margret shifted her weight away from Aldon for a 
moment. "Uh, anyway, you're wanted in the back." 


Panic lanced through Aldon as she realized just how much time she 
spent spacing out at work. When Margret then went on to mention it 
was for an employment review, Aldon's shoulders sagged so much 
they might have dislocated her arms. 


"Right. Higher up. Inspection-review-dealio. Thanks, Margret." 


Margret touched Aldon's shoulder as she passed. "You alright, 
Aldon?" 


"Uh. No. Not really. Lots of stress. Um. Y'know- girl stuff.” 


Margret began to chuckle before she caught herself. She quickly 
cleared her throat in an effort to make it seem like that was what she 
had been doing all along. She opened her mouth as if to say 
something, perhaps apologize, and then continued pretending to 
cough. 


Aldon just nodded awkwardly and made a beeline for the manager's 
office. She knocked on the slightly ajar door and peeked inside. A 
man she didn't recognize was sitting within, wearing a suit that he 
didn't look all that comfortable in. He scratched at the coarse stubble 
along his jaw absently until he took notice of Aldon. 


"Oh, hey there!" He was up and out of the chair in one quick motion. 
He offered a loose handshake, a grin on his face. "Jakeob Aldon? 
Nice to meet you. I'm Daniel Navarro, I'll be asking you some 
questions. Please, take a seat." 


He shut the door and locked it. Aldon thought that a little strange, 
but dismissed it as one of the neurotic tendencies she had picked up 
along the years. Navarro moved over to the desk while Aldon sat 
down, but rather than sitting down himself he popped open a folder 
and flicked through it for a moment. He then plucked one paper from 
it and slid it over to Aldon. 


Act normal. Do not react to what I'm about to do. 


"So, how do you like it here? Do you like your boss? Your fellow 


employees?" 


"Um. They're alright. Good. No complaints. |, uh, usually keep to 
myself, | guess." 


As they said this, Navarro withdrew six small pieces of paper from 
the folder and bent down on the ground, affixing one to the floor. He 
stood and circled the room, placing one on each wall. 


He climbed up on the manager's chair. "| see. Any particular reason 
for that?" 


Aldon watched as he affixed the last paper to the ceiling. "Just... 
shy, | guess." 


"That's okay," Navarro said as he hopped off the chair. He then sat 
in it, unbuttoning his suit and loosening his tie. "Nothing wrong with 
that. You can react now, by the way." 


Aldon chewed on her tongue, nodding in thought. She went with 
what she felt was a good opening question. "Who the hell are you?" 


The grin was still there. "I told you. I'm Daniel Navarro. I'm here to 
ask you some questions. And make you an offer." 


Aldon sighed. "Right, but like, who do you work for?" 


"You don't know?" Navarro palmed his chin. Aldon shook her head. 
"Ha! And they say memetics are bullshit. Spicy Crust Pizza. SCP. 
The Foundation." 


Blocked channels within Aldon's mind suddenly flooded. She left the 
chair so fast she knocked it over. "Wait- fuck- what? That... Fucking 
memetics are bullshit." 


"Well, bullshit in that they're annoying, not ineffective." Navarro 
shrugged. He was still smiling, which was beginning to bother Aldon. 
"Relax, Aldon. | come in peace. The Foundation wants to make you 
an offer." 


Aldon sat against the opposite wall, her head in her hands. "I work. 
For the Foundation." 


"Well, not exactly. See, this is just a front. Nobody save for the 
owner actually knows." 


Aldon wasn't really listening. "I've been good. Careful! Don't do 
anything too big, nothing dangerous. Keep myself normal. And I've 
been under you this whole time. You guys probably have cameras 
and shit all over the place in here, huh?" 


"Indeed, we do." Navarro got up from the chair and approached 
Aldon. He crouched down and offered her a much smaller smile 
than earlier. "But, hey. We haven't done anything to you. We've 
known since you applied, and rather than taking you in we gave you 
a job." 


"That actually makes sense. Keep people of interest somewhere 
you can watch them. Man. Fuck. So, what- wait, what about Finn?" 


"He's fine. For now. Depending on your cooperation that might 
change." 


The conflicted look on his face did not stem Aldon's frustration. 
"Man, fuck you." 


Navarro held his hands out apologetically. "Sorry. Just doing my job. 
Can | tell you what we want you to do?" 


Aldon crossed her arms. She hoped to look indifferent rather than 
desolate. "Whatever." 


Navarro took a breath and then became just a bit more serious. "We 
want you to accept that offer from the Are We Cool Yet? sect that 
contacted you. Aldon, you're not a problem. But they are." 


"You want me to set them up." 


"Correct. Most anartists manage to stay under our radar. Even a 
good chunk of the aussies don't bring much attention to themselves. 
But these guys do. They were involved in this big... mess on the 
east coast that we weren't able to deal with, and now they're on the 
west coast." 


Aldon reached out and grabbed nothing. "Y'know, | finally had a 


decent chance. A slim one, but it was all in my hands. And now it's 
gone cuz Big Brother was like 'Fuck you, Aldon." Shit, | probably 
never can now that | know you guys are watching me." 


Navarro slumped. "I'm really sorry about that. | have a trans friend, 
he's... not happy. | won't say | know what it's like, but | can 
empathize. | might- and this is a really tiny might- be able to help 
you with that. I'll submit a request. But | doubt it'll be accepted." 


It meant almost nothing, and she wasn't even sure if he was serious, 
but even as an empty gesture it meant a lot to her. She shrugged 
again. 


Navarro slapped her arm reassuringly. "Listen, nine years ago? | 
was in your shoes." 


Aldon managed a glare. "And now you work for them." 


Navarro grinned again. "Make the best of a bad situation. I'd like to 
think | helped the anart scene in my own way." 


"So... why not just take them when they walk into your fucking 
pizzeria? Like, how hard would that be? Why do | need to double 
agent this shit?" 


"My superiors think they may be the tip of the iceberg. There's been 
a lot of antagonistic anart activity in the area recently. They think 
Paulson and Cori are involved. And they are surprisingly difficult to 
find. Like they have something to clean up any tracks they make." 


"Fine. Whatever." Aldon stood, rejecting Navarro's offered help to 
stand. She glared some more as he straightened his tie and 
buttoned back up. "Are we done here?" 


"Well, you're in a sound-proofed room for the moment. You have to 
go back to work for a few hours after this. Care to vent?" 


"Oh. Yes. Thank you." 


Aldon took a deep breath and then began thrashing around. 


“Ff UUUUUUUUUUUU UU UU UU CK |" 


Navarro clutched at his ears. "Jesus! | meant let me leave first! 
Christ." 


« Boron Blisters | Hub | Divine Demands » 


[DATA EXPUNGED] two antecedent years have been a 
trying time for all of us, we have not, as you might have 
feared, gone hellenious. Instead, we offer you a crispy 
new 2013 edition of our "Wacky Wordables and 
Idiosyncratic Idioms" Word-A-Day Calendar. And there's 
more! For incisive minds, playful spirits, and 
connoisseurs of obscurity we have daily calendars 
featuring terms from Speleology, Surgery, and 
[REDACTED], pardon the pun. The early bird gets the 
worm, and the early buyer gets a 20% discount! Wait no 
more, and word up!" 

Inquiries made throughout the site revealed that nobody 
had requested any such catalog, and testing revealed 
that it was not anomalous. 


Footnotes 
1. No records of a company or association exist. 
2. The base is assembled from molded PVC parts, while the 


calendar itself is printed using common printing inks on standard 


coated fine paper, joined with polyvinyl acetate glue. 
3. First public mentions of word appear in 2010. 
4. Information appears in the classifiedSCP-726file. 


« SCP-565 | SCP-566 | SCP-567 » 


Divine Demands 


Jakeob Aldon stared at the card that Felix Cori had given her. Or 
maybe she should start calling him "The Critic." She let out a sigh 
and stretched out across her bed, flipping the card between her 
fingers. The side that had held the number she was to previously 
call was now blank, and the opposite side held nothing but a 
question. 


Are We Cool Yet? 


It was an interesting question, at the very least. A group that was 
little more than a question suggested that the answer could never be 
"Yes." Because then what? What if the opposition suddenly was 
cool with you? What if the art, and by extension the artists, became 
cool? To some that may not matter as it would simply mean 
dropping what amounted to little more than a label, but from Aldon's 
limited experience the aussie anartists were all about labels. 


The Critic critiqued. The Director directed. The Sculptor sighed and 
waited for the card to do something interesting. 


After several more minutes, the card finally obliged. Upon turning it 
to the side that used to be blank, Aldon found a new phone number 
to call. She pawed for her phone and when the search came up 
empty she sat up. 


In the corner of the room she spotted Copper, Boron, Iron, and Zinc 
gathered around her crappy old flip phone. They didn't seem to be 
eating it, which was good. In fact, they appeared to be trying to use 
it. lon and Copper were holding a phone book open while Boron 
read from it, Zinc punching in the numbers. Aldon crouched down to 
see Boron reading from a listing for some company that bought and 
sold gold items. 


Aldon pinched the phone and tugged it away from Zinc, who 
protested by waving its little arms around. Iron hopped up onto the 


phone book and hopped about pitifully. 
"Sorry, guys, | need this. Besides, you need money to buy gold." 


Now too occupied with dialing the number, Aldon missed Boron 
looking to the spot on Finnegan's desk where the roommates tended 
to leave their wallets. 


Aldon waited while the dial tone droned on. After approximately four 
seconds the tone changed to a low pitched hum, which Aldon 
assumed was a memetic screening device or something. When the 
tone decided her mind probably hadn't collapsed in on itself, Felix 
picked up. 


"Allie?" 
"Hey, Felix." 
"Um. Hi." 


"...Hi." Out of the corner of her eye, Aldon caught Zinc trying to 
sneak up on the unsuspecting wallet sitting on the desk. She rolled 
her eyes and pocketed the wallet and gave the little golem a light 
bop on the head with her finger. All the while, Felix remained silent. 
"Felix?" 


"Right, sorry, just waiting for this thing to triangulate you."