"Excellent work, Rikard. Sew up the incision in the stomach wall, 
and let's patch 'im up and call it a day." She shut the lid on the vat, 
and placed the unit on a conveyor belt that would take it to the 
pathologists working two blocks away. She took enjoyment from 
treating people of their pain, even if she injected them with the 
organism that she would have to take out of them eventually. 
Working at the Foundation gave her a sense of purpose. 


15-year-old Amy held her elderly mother's hand as she slowly 


breathed. The cancer was eating her withered body, and the doctors 
could do nothing about it. 


"You've always been a good, strong girl... don't let anyone take that 
away from you, my love." The elder Sze looked at her only child in 
her eyes, and smiled for the last time. 


"| love you, Amy," she spoke, before closing her eyes. Amy couldn't 
hear herself crying over the flat, piercing tone of the ECG. 


All afternoon, she continued to click away at her computer, trying to 
put together DNA sequences for some of the superviruses that the 
Foundation has recently acquired. She always wondered where the 
Foundation got such nasty ailments, but then thought to herself that 
she wasn't ready for the answer, and dropped that line of thought. 
She continued to work uninterrupted until her desk phone began to 
ring. 


"Dr. Sze, please report to room D33 as soon as possible, thank 
you.” The dry lady's tone was replaced with the dead line sound, 
and Amy put her phone back down before standing up. She really 
hated when people interrupted her from her work. She found herself 
most at-ease when working. 


"Max, you're drunk!" Amy tried to push him away, but the much 
bigger guy pinned her to the wall. 


"Oh, c'mon, babe," he replied with a slurred voice. "This will be fun, | 
promise." 


She screamed and struggled, and no-one came to her rescue that 
night... 


"... room D338, here it is." She looked at the conference chamber - it 
appeared empty, but she walked in anyways. 


As soon as she walked in, the door sealed shut behind her, and the 
blinds automatically closed. Alarmed, she drew out her sidearm and 


« SCP-935 | SCP-936 | SCP-937 » 


crouched low near the door. 


Within a few seconds, the lights turned back on, and she saw people 
and food. She saw a few familiar faces, including David Rosen from 
Tech. Research, Doctor Lucas Cave, and Alec Brickner. 


"Amy," started Brickner, "you work way too hard. | knew you'd forget 
that today is your 34th birthday. Now, stop worrying for an hour, and 
enjoy." He lit a small candle on top of the cake, and stepped aside. 


Amy smiled, and blew out that candle, wishing that the people that 
surrounded her now never left her side. In her whole life, she never 
had a real family until she joined the Foundation... 


Amy placed the letter down on her nightstand, while she continued 
to pack her bags. 


Working for a government project? Having her master's and her 
doctorate paid for? Working with the most advanced technology in 
the world? What more could she ask for? 


She was mildly saddened that she would have to leave this 
apartment, which has been her home for many years... 


... but, at this point, she had nothing left to lose. No friends, no 
parents, no job... she took her bags with her, and left her apartment. 


Outside, a black towncar waited for her. As the attendant packed her 
bags into the storage compartment, she continued to read her 
orientation package. 


If she could remember anything, she asked herself, she would rather 
remember this boring package, than the hell that she was forged 
through. 


The towncar sped off into the distance, bringing her someplace new. 


Serving the Twin Cities Since 2021 


PT: Gooood morning everyone, it's your girl, your daily 
pick-me-up, Pauline Tomlinson. Um, today is August 3rd, 
2036, and it's the sixteenth anniversary of the... what're 
we Calling it? Officially, | mean. 


PT: A-Day, okay. You know, the apocalypse. And we — 
no, no, okay, you're right. It was the apocalypse for 
humans. Things got a lot better for everyone else. 
Almost everyone, anyways. Still, | mean, we shouldn't 
minimize the, uh, the loss that aid happen. And we'd just 
like to take a moment of silence for everyone we lost on 
A-Day, in the months after that... yeah. 


PT: Alright. Today's high is about 75, not a cloud in the 
sky, it's really a beautiful day here. As usual you can 
tune into 91.1 FM to hear a real forecast, 'cause the 
Contained Zone down in Rochester has their own 
Doppler, and it should be more or less right for the Twin 
Cities. We're going to get ours back up and running, but 
it's a work in progress. 


PT: We're gonna take a quick break, and when we come 
back, I'll have Lenny in the studio with me to talk about 
his public education project for newfolk and how that's 
coming along. Gonna be a good time. You are listening 
to community radio, eight-three-oh, WCCO. 


J] With these, hungry eyes } 

+ One look at you and | can't disguise 1 
Ji I've got, hungry eyes ) 

) | feel the magic between you and! 4 


PT: ... and one problem that people a lot of people are 


talking about is, we don't know what kind of education 
the newfolk need. 


L: Could you elaborate? 


PT: Well, suppose we get past the, all of the language 
barriers, create things like social studies and history from 
the ground up, revise physics to answer the obvious 
questions, and so on. How do we decide ona 
curriculum? 


L: | don't think there's any need to treat the human public 
schools as any sort of template. If anything, newfolk 
should use public education as an opportunity to develop 
communal norms and expectations. 


PT: Isn't that what's already happening with the current 
system? 


L: Informally, maybe, but that will happen inevitably 
when you put so many people in the same place. In the 
meantime, we're struggling to function as a people, and 
some form of structured interaction in an ‘educational’ 
setting would do much to accelerate the process. 


PT: Well, at that point, | don't know if we can call it 
‘education’, so much as some sort of civics pr— 


L: There is no 'we' here. No disrespect, Pauline, but 
you're flesh and blood, while I'm an internet meme 
carved into a fence post. Our task is fundamentally 
different than yours. For humans, your goal is to rebuild 
the society you once had. You have a template to work 
from. 


PT: Well, this is Minneapolis and St. Paul you're talking 
about. | think it's safe to say the humans who aren't 
interested in some form of cohabitation going forward 
have moved to one of the Contained Zones, so I'm not 
sure that ‘rebuilding’ is the right way to look at it. 


L: Oh, you'd be surprised. Humans are here for all sorts 
of reasons. But that's beside the point. You have a past 
you can look to, and ideals you can strive towards, when 
deciding what kind of world you want to live in. We still 
have yet to figure out what we need, much less what we 
want or can have. We're where you were, six thousand 
years ago. 


PT: Well, that's — hold on. 


PT: Thank you, Lenny, that's all the time we have for 
now. 


L: It's been my pleasure. 


PT: Coming up next we have some more music, and 
then Stomper Thirteen has his lunch hour. Doesn't say 
here what it's about, though. Anyways. You are listening 
to community radio, eight-three-oh, WCCO. 


I) So don't delay, act now, supplies are running out 

) Allow if you're still alive, six to eight years to arrive J] 
J) And if you follow, there may be a tomorrow } 

+ But if the offer's shunned, you might as well be walkin' 
on the sun J 


S13: Fihe 2 GASMea4MTeVABG, but go off | 
guess. It's not like the 2r1¥lae° is with there, creating 
us to be #@CVa. And W3%&® won't pretend that the 6j@ 
DEO de @ HAS02DOH isn't keeping some 9X War 
locked up with cages too, that's irrelevant to the point I'm 
with. P6083 1 @ A KIC ZH, Bia AOL. 
Gt £ ©83 tt#No KIVA UXt Ox Oxw4tT KY 

21 1O GBR Ax02h BIOOC. Are you with this? 


$13: And | can only imagine WSRVAVR®© O8S-w 8 4 
PPP Ge with Gxtiea W & t%5-m 2 & only a matter of 
time. They're suffering huge casualties, ® 44 not a lack 
of bullets. <@r" 2— ASB hae tid BE Ve BP 
ZY @ HX. 4 dxZA fundamentally not with the war. 
The United Front is not concerned with your freedom. 


The "SCP 42o0H @P.ax% <¢h-@" part would lock us 
away, and "Gsadew 2X¢0 8" would be notwithstanding 
us. 


$13: And so you're asking, "Stomper, X & 24 &8d §O 2 
a SY pk 64S A& X83 EB 2LO0OP)?" Don't fuck 
with me, okay? You're all with the A9*4 AA) Me. 
You know for these cities to only &M*% until PRP & er 
doesn't need with a North buffer. St. Paul? Gone. 
Minneapolis? Gone. If you can talk with H #@Axt-aOC 
VE@SOM BOALL, in English, you need to xk? OB 
HOA O@o EF tOAM SPHePX AGUEO GOO LS 2 
this, because they are all sympathies with the Front. On 
some mal +— 8d 603.83 ,° Go QN@ pHs: :. Bold of 
@GOVEKe LOMA XY xe eo 2 tV-®. 


$13: Don't Ver P71 like I'm crazy. Sy a Geqe 

£ ROA is real. FEE MOS FP Vad A AL #23) BN 
PNAGe® &ATHOC HeV ee &. We're all repulsive, 
get used to it. 


$13: What? It has not been an hour. Bullshit. H°®d@x. 


$13: Alright, that's all I'm with for now. #eV¥q@e@e & 
reVv@ee@ A reVee@ A ReVee A. Tune in 
tomorrow, same time. Next up is Vanessa's Art Corner, 
€ guest Jason Vang. Community radio, eight-three-oh, 
WCCO. 


J) That's real, people act a different way with me ) 

+ | feel that nobody wanna play with me 4 

J) That's ill cuz they treat me like a stain on they clothes 
a 

+ The industry and my foes, they treat me like | got a red 
nose Jj 


JV: But no, see, you have to keep in mind that they have 
no conventional neurology, like they're humanoid 
thoughtforms, sure, but they remained intact despite a 
total lack of internal structure, maybe even for decades, 
or centuries, and this disproves— 


VG: Jason, for the love of god, nobody cares. 
JV: Says you. 


VG: Yeah, says me. This is an art show. Last Thursday | 
talked about a pottery studio in Dinkytown. 


JV: Then why did you invite me? I'm not an artist. 


VG: All the other people | knew from the Foundation are 
dead or working for the United Front. 


JV: Yeah, | slipped out right after everything went down. 
Saw the writing on the wall. 


VG: That's probably a good idea. You're remarkably 
coherent. 


JV: And you haven't thrown anything at me yet. | think 
working in memetics messes with your head. 


VG: Gee, you think? But we're getting off-topic. The 
reason | had you on is, one of my sources says you ran 
with Are We Cool Yet? for a while. 


JV: You have sources in Are We Cool Yet? 


VG: Where do you think | went after | sent out my ‘fuck 
you'? But that's beside the point. What were you doing 
there if you're not into art? 


JV: They got hold of a huge stock of candy bars. They 
were frozen in some warehouse out in Montana, | think. | 
did some work for them, and | got free pickings on top of 
room and board. 


VG: You sold out for candy? 


JV: | can get candy anywhere, but when's the last time 
you had chocolate? 


VG: | guess... uh... | think two years ago, one of my 


neighbors found some in their cellar and gave me some. 
Before that it's maybe been five? 


JV: Exactly. Everyone stress-ate all the good stuff in like 
two years flat, and the cocoa plantations are still a wreck. 


VG: Hmm. | hadn't even thought about that. 


JV: I'm sure the Front would've given me a better 
apartment, but there's no chocolate there. 


VG: | just hope you weren't doing anything too, uh... 


JV: | helped them make some kind of huge golem 
thing. 


VG: ... ethically ambiguous. 


JV: | helped figure out the carvings to make it do what 
they want and think the way they want it to. 


VG: Ugh. Vang, you fucking idiot. 
JV: What? What'd | do now? 
VG: Do you read the news? 

JV: Not really. 


VG: That ‘huge golem thing' destroyed a city in North 
Dakota and it's on its way to Winnipeg, you dunce. 


JV: Huh. Weird. 


VG: Wh— how is that 'weird'? What do you mean by 
‘weird’? Why is thatthe response? 


JV: | don't think that's what they were trying to do with it. 


VG: | specifically declined to help with that project 
because it was fucking insane, on the face of it! Not to 
mention neither of us are thaumaturges! 


JV: Well, first of all, | did, actually, learn magic like ten 
years ago. Kind of. | can intuit the overall gist of the 
thrust of it. 


VG: Oh. Well. It's still a terrible idea, and you clearly 
aren't qualified to be messing with that sort of thing. 


JV: Yeah, | definitely overstated those. My qualifications, 
| mean. 


VG: Ugh. If it turns out you're responsible for this, | will 
throttle you. 


JV: If it was an insane idea from the start, why are you 
blaming it on me? Maybe it was going to do that 
anyways. I'm more of an expert than you are. 


VG: Fine. Whatever. Might as well be a fucking 
mercenary. 


JV: Exactly. You want to keep recording or no? I'm 
getting some kind of angry vibe here. 


VG: Let's... doesn't matter. I'm always angry. Let's just 
do the show. 


JV: You good? 


VG: Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. What kind of projects were 
they working on? Are they creating newfolk these days, 
apart from the golem? 


JV: Oh, for sure. | think they got rid of everyone who was 
like, unsure about the ethics of it. A lot of the guys were 
like, painters or sketch artists, who made the transition 
over to making custom consciousnesses as art pieces. 


VG: They what?! | left because they even seriously 
considered doing that. Fuck them. 


JV: They're prometheans, through and through. Not 
slave drivers by any stretch, but definitely prometheans. 


VG: God. Fuck. Get me in touch with the ones who got 
kicked out. I'm going to sort this out. 


JV: Uh, I'm not sure if — 
VG: That wasn't a request. 


JV: Okay, but if | out them on air, that's gonna get back 
to me. 


VG: We can just end the show here. 
JV: | guess, or we could wait un— 


VG: That's it for Vanessa's art corner, maybe I'll be back 
next Thursday, maybe | won't. Who knows. If | am, I'll 
do... something about local bands. No idea who's 
coming up next. Bye! 


JV: Now hold on just a — 


VG: Oh, right, right, the callsign. You're listening to 
community radio, eight-three-oh, WCCO. 


J) Fingertips on my skin } 

) Let the chemistry begin J 

1) 'Cause I'm standing right here and my heart is beating 
a) 

+ Face to face, ‘cause | want the real thing 1 


PT: Well, uh, Vanessa had another 45 minutes 
scheduled, so we don't really have anything... should | 
just play music until Riley gets to the studio? 


PT: | guess | could do better than that. There's... hold 
on. There's got to be a newspaper around here 
somewhere. 


PT: Okay, here we go. | know you could always just tune 
over to 91.1FM to get regional news, but there's always 
the, uh, local perspective to consider. Like... 


PT: Hm. 


PT: Fuck this. | don't care about any of this. My 
neighbors got killed yesterday. | wasn't going to bring it 
up, but | changed my mind. They were three pop cans, 
and they were out on a walk, and someone found them 
in the gutter, crushed like garbage. Pender, Gams, and 
Warlock, those were their names. 


PT: These wars that are going on, | can't get worked up 
about them, because you know once they're over, there's 
still going to be senseless violence and slavery, and, 
and, | don't know, genocide. No matter if humans or 
newfolk win. 


PT: As bad as things were before, there were only so 
many people you could destroy. But now? There are no 
limits. Life is so cheap now. If you want the news, here's 
the news: We haven't seen anything yet. 


PT: I'm taking the rest of the day off to plan the funeral. 
You are listening to community radio, eight-three-oh, 
WCCO.