"We got it." She picks up a stack of papers off a printer and locks 
them into her briefcase. "And now I'm taking it where it needs to go. 
Thank you for your compliance, Mr. Sanderson." 


His mouth droops open. Surely he misheard that. "Did you just call 
me-" 


"Yes, congratulations, Mr. Sanderson," a man by the door says, 
removing his glasses and leaning against the frame. "You are the 
first successful subject of PII Initiative A." 


D-2094 feels like he's going to pass out. He convinces himself that 
everything he's hearing is some side effect of having that thing in his 
head, and he lets himself collapse back onto the table as the lights 
above him blur together into blinding white. 


Undisclosed Location 
Santa Monica, CA 
7:45 PM, July 1st, 2032 


"Are you awake, Mr. Sanderson?" 


Brent peels his eyes open. There's a young man in a white collared 
shirt by his bed. "Y-yeah-" 


"You've been out for four hours. I'm sorry | wasn't able to introduce 
myself last time." The man extends his hand. Brent takes it with 
trembling fingers and nods. "I'm the Director of Media Relations for 
Site-92's Research and Development Department. | don't really give 
my name." 


"I'm- uh..." 


"You're Brent Sanderson," the man says, clasping his hands 
together. "I Know it's hard to believe. You think you're D-2094, 
right?" 


"Y-you actually want me to answer?" 


"No. It's a rhetorical question. Do you have any recollection of your 
identity, actions... anything?" 


"What's happening here? | don't- what-" 


The Director holds his hands up. "It's okay, you can relax. I'll take 
that as a no." 


Brent looks around the room. It's too homey. There are burgundy 
drapes, and the bed he's on has a wooden frame. "Where am |?" 


"A Foundation safehouse." 
"Can't | just go back to my cell-" 


"You're not a D-class. You're Agent Brent Sanderson. You worked, 
until recently, in the Containment and Retrieval Department of 
Site-92." 


"You originally refused to reveal the location of any home cameras 
during this case, presumably for your own legal reasons, but it looks 
like we were still able to get some information out of you. You've 
caused us quite the trouble, you know." The Director smiles. "But 
here we are. If you think this organization protects criminals in its 
ranks, you're dead wrong, Brent." 


Brent grits his teeth. "Can you please just explain what's happening 
to me? Who am |?" 


The Director sighs and stands from his chair. "Looks like it's not 
working," he says once he's in the hallway. "Go ahead and stick it 
back in there, | guess. Shouldn't cause any problems at this point in 


the case, with the backup copied and all that." 
He frowns and grips the sheets. "Wait, what-" 


"Just hold still. This'll only take a second." The person approaching 
him is oddly familiar. Like one of the guards on the cell block that he 
apparently never resided in. They push his head forward and press 
a bulky device against it. He doesn't have time to resist before 
there's a quiet click and a disturbing sliding sensation in the back of 
his skull. Like a feather is tickling his brain matter, right down there 
on the cerebellum. 


"That's the right one, right? Not the testing duplicate?" the Director 
asks. 


"Licata and the other researchers kept the duplicate, sir." 


"Gotcha, gotcha. Alright, Mr. Sanderson. Is it safe to assume you 
have your thoughts back in order?" 


"Did you just- What did you just do?" 


"Your implant had been removed, so we just put it back in. You were 
amnesticized as part of an approved procedure, but it appears the 
Pll was successful in this case with accurately logging personal 
identity and memories." 


"|- What? Why am | in the safehouse? What happened?" 
The Director chuckles. "Are you going to get out of bed?" 


Brent looks down. He's in pajamas. He frowns. "Yeah. Wait, didn't | 
just wake up?" 


"You did... technically just wake up, yes. You were unconscious." 
"For how long?" 
"Only four hours." 


"What were we talking about before that person fucked around with 
my chip? Whatever went on with it must have glitched out, because | 


can't remember-" 


"| believe | was telling you how we don't employ criminals in our 
ranks," the Director sighs, removing a laptop from his briefcase. 
"And thanks to you, we've got the security footage from your house 
now. You do remember that case, don't you?" 


A headache pounds against his temple. "Of course | remember that 
case. How did you get me out of jail?" 


"You know we have our ways. Listen, Mr. Sanderson, I'm on a 
schedule, and | don't owe you overviews of what you already know 
you've done. More importantly, however, do you remember when 
you signed your consent forms for your Personnel Identification 
Implant, about six months ago?" 


"Y-yeah-" 
"Do you remember the section about Initiative A, then?" 
"l- | don't think | read the whole thing, to be honest." 


"Ahhh. No one ever reads the terms and conditions, am | right? Sign 
and move on. | can relate. Well, when you signed onto Initiative A, 
you signed onto some of our most groundbreaking research. Could 
do wonders for the R-and-D Departments’ stocks, no matter which 
Site we're talking about. You see, the PIl is big news. Really big 
news. And our team right here in Los Angeles are the ones who 
perfected it. It's what every company will want. It's not invasive. It 
doesn't record your thoughts and send them around. It just captures 
what you're seeing and hearing and feeling when you're on the 
clock, and only when you're on the clock. Were you on the clock that 
night with Aline Warner and your team member Andrew Collins, Mr. 
Sanderson?" 


He puts his head in his hands. The more the Director talks, the more 
conflicting memories flood back into his thoughts. "Yes." 


"And were you on Foundation property or were you on city property 
when you threatened that bixby with your SRA?" 


"| don't- I've been over this a million times with the cops, for fuck's 


sake. | was in the Site's housing. Everything happened there." 


"Well, who instructed you to lead her back onto Foundation property 
and carry out the capture there?" 


"N- no one? | mean, | did. Me, I'm the team lead." 
"You are, that's right. Right, okay. So it was indeed your decision." 


"Yeah. Look, is this a legal interview right now? Do | need to watch 
what | say-" 


"You're with the Foundation, Mr. Sanderson. Surely your 
employment has taught you that you're safe with us." 


He licks his lips. They're dry and cracked. His skin feels like paper. "| 
got her onto Foundation property because Los Angeles will fight you 
in court if you take a sapient anomaly off the streets on county 
property. Especially her, with her publicity." 


"Except the residential streets aren't Foundation property. That area 
is unincorporated and technically still belongs to the county." 


His head is spinning. "But- this was in my backyard. This happened 
in my own backyard. My house, in the Site's neighborhood." 


"Right, but your house is on unincorporated property, and your 
house also has security cameras, which you had... conveniently 
forgotten to tell us about during the case, it seems. Actively refused, 
more accurately." 


His eyes widen as realization slams into him like a freight train. His 
heart thumps in his chest. "Wait, I- that's not possible, I-" 


"Consider it lucky, Mr. Sanderson. You may be deserving of your 
charges, but thanks to your signing onto Initiative A, the PIl's future 
in sales with every security department from Google to Wells Fargo 
is looking nothing but up. | think your case here may have 
singlehandedly determined the future of the R-and-D Department's 
stocks, crimes aside." 


"Can you please just slow down," Brent spits, trembling. He 


swallows. "Please. | don't understand what's happening." 


The Director looks at his watch with an audible groan. "I really don't 
have the time for this. Alright, last week, convicted of attempted 
kidnapping and assault. Remember what happened?" 


"Yeah. Got a report of a famous bixby visiting town, obvious target 
with known disruptive capabilities. Tried to get her out of town for 
legal reasons and all that, you know the drill." 


"Right, and this person was Aline Warner, who was formerly a 
contained SCP object but was broken out of the Site by her 
containment specialist, Adam Leeward, and years down the line the 
two of them now own an explicitly anti-Foundation law firm known as 
Leeward and Warner Legal Solutions. And you tried to recontain her 
on county property. Where the law is on her side." 


He sighs. "Okay, okay. | get what this is about. Look, | made a 
mistake, alright? | didn't read the legalese carefully enough, | get it. 
And now Andrew's in trouble too, and he didn't do shit. And between 
the Foundation and |, we didn't do shit to get that attempted assault 
charge." 


"That's not what the PII feedback footage would suggest," the 
Director says quietly, turning his laptop screen around to face Brent. 
"You may have neglected to tell the police in the interviews, but your 
PII history showed quite the opposite once you had a little amnestics 
and reconditioning to help you out." 


Brent watches with his brow furrowed and his mouth in a grimace as 
the Director plays back the distorted, bulbous picture of his implant's 
digital audio and video records. 


"Ah- there," the Director says, punching the space bar and pausing 
the footage. "You see that? You hear that part? After Andrew tells 
you to hit her over the head, you start walking forward." 


He frowns. "How did you get this?" 


"You gave it to us. When you signed your implant paperwork and 
partook in Initiative A. When we managed to get you to recall it so 


that it could be recorded." 


"Wait, wait. | do remember this. | remember going back here. But | 
don't remember walking forward, there. | actually remember not 
wanting to walk forward." 


"In the revisit? | believe Dr. Licata did notice you hesitate, yes." 


"Because | didn't want to do it! | only did it because the memory she 
was accessing through me started falling apart when | thought about 
not doing it, which means it was obviously the wrong option that 
wasn't in line with what he- with what / originally did, but | didn't want 
to do it! It was just Andrew fucking around and being a shit because 
everyone hates Warner and he wanted to piss her off, it wasn't 
anything- real." 


"What your post-procedure self wanted or did not want to do is 
unrelated to what you originally did do and what is proven in the 
implant's history, Mr. Sanderson. And you may have made it pretty 
hard to recover the PIl's files, but thanks to your cooperation with 
Initiative A, we got them right back. Are you starting to understand 
where you stand here?" 


The Director's words are starting to blur into incomprehensible 
droning in his thoughts. "No." He swallows. "I'm still confused on 
what's happening to me. What happened with the case? What does 
that damn implant have to do with this, besides that footage?" 


"The case is near-closed, and you're still going to be convicted. | 
think your confusion may lie in your mistaken opinion that the 
Foundation will defend its employees no matter the circumstances, 
Mr. Sanderson, and that is not accurate. Not in today's age." 


"The past week feels like a dream. | didn't mean to do anything 
illegal." 


"You can believe that all you need, but it doesn't change what 
happened." The Director leans forward, and for the first time in the 
conversation, his voice sounds genuine and concerned. "Listen, 
you're not a bad agent. You're dedicated to the cause, a real 
exemplar. | get your type, | really do. The Foundation of twenty 


years ago would have loved you. But we're not them now. We're a 
little down and out right now, so to speak. I'm sure you've noticed it. 
Publicity killed us, Mr. Sanderson." His lips are right beside Brent's 
ear. "That's the truth. You can't even drive between the city and the 
site without protesters swarming your car. And you know that a lot of 
that is happening because of your case, and, to be frank, because of 
you. | don't have a problem with this continual recontainment effort 
we have going on for Warner, but it has to be done so, so carefully. 
It'll make us look bad no matter what, but there's no denying that a 
reality bender with publicity value is dangerous." 


Brent nods, fingers clenched. 


"Do you want to know what the best hope for this organization is 
right now? It's that chip in our heads. The value that thing presents 
to the corporate technology world is unparalleled. | know 
containment is our thing, Mr. Sanderson, but there are challenging 
times ahead. It's time to look toward innovation and business. The 
other things we're good at. We can do science. We can do money. 
And the PII means both." He exhales through his nose and eyes the 
door. They share several uncomfortable seconds of silence before 
he speaks again. "In conclusion, | suppose, I'd like to personally 
thank you for your place in this case. Thanks to you, we can gain the 
public's trust again, or at least get the ball rolling. Rogue agent? Not 
to worry, everything's recorded and on-record. The Foundation may 
fight tooth and nail to carry out its cause despite political adversity, 
but one thing we're not is dishonest. This case will prove the PIl's 
worth as business technology, and you just gave that process a 
jumpstart." 


Brent feels like he's going to vomit, and he's not sure if it's from the 
pain in his skull or the Director's words or both. "W-what-" 


"| Know you heard what | said,” the Director says, his tone and 
volume still the same despite the alarm in Brent's voice. "Now, put 
some real clothes on. | believe the chief of the LAPD wanted to talk 
to you." 


Brent watches the Director walk out of the room with his mouth 
hanging open. 


Following said event, Foundation Mobile Task Force Rho-71 
("Origami Toads") was sent into the site to assess the situation and 
carry out containment procedures. MTF Rho-71 was not successful 
in determining the cause or location of the deaths due to casualties 
inflicted on team members (see Supplement 823-01-15, "Casualties 
among MTF Rho-71 resulting from Event 823-99-Euclid"). Partial list 
of casualties included: 


¢ MTF Rho-71 commander . Cause of 
death: suicide caused by forced sexual entry 
through left eye, resulting in unsurvivable brain 
trauma. 


« Agent . Cause of death: suicide. Individual 
was found with all ammunition disassembled, 
casings and bullets discarded. grams of 
propellant, consistent with the amount of 
disassembled ammunition found on scene, were 
retrieved from individual's stomach and intestines. 


Agent . Cause of death: suicide. Individual 
was discovered with lacerated lungs and broken 
jaw. Missing teeth were retrieved from individual's 
lungs and trachea. 


<FOR COMPLETE RECORD OF CASUALTIES, PLEASE SEE 
SUPPLEMENT 823-01-15, "Casualties among MTF Rho-71 
resulting from Event 823-99-Euclid."> 


Following the deaths of 50% of the Mobile Task Force personnel, 
on-site supervisor ordered an immediate mission abort. Containment 
protocol was switched from Retrieval to On-Site Securement. 
Standard media blackout procedures were carried out, including 
[DATA EXPUNGED]. 


Addendum 823-01: Re: Destruction of Site - Per O5-level order, 
request for immediate destruction of site by air strike, to be led by 
MTF Nu-7 ("Hammer Down"), iS denied due to proximity to 
civilian population, lack of plausible cover story scenario, and 
unknown nature of artifact in question. 


Site Command Office 
Site-92, Los Angeles, CA 
11:30 AM, July 4th, 2032