All he could think of was getting home to his wife, and telling her that 
he was going to get a normal job. That he'd sell the company and 
flip burgers if it meant having her beside him. Truth be told, there 
never had been much money to be made selling swimsuits for cats, 
but he was a proud man. Too proud. 


He tried to fight the drowsy feeling washing over him, but when you 
were, and you weren't, and you might be, you really had no chance 
in seven hells. 


George felt the side of his face hit the deli's floor, and then he was 
drifting off to sleep with the smell of sandwiches and kerosene in his 
nose, and his skin itching from the hair on the floor. 


"So tell me, Simone. Do we have any idea which of these nine 
XACTS are linked together, and what they're temporally anchored 
to?" 


Xyank took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. 


"Not yet, not for all three of those configurations at least. I've 
isolated one of them though. It's this one, the one on the Tolt- 
MacDonald Campground, and the one in the Puget Sound. Seems 
to be fixed on early spring, first decade of the twentieth century. 
Can't pin it down it any more accurately right now, sorry." 


"That's alright. One down, two to go. Think you can manage those?" 
Thaddeus felt his eyes burn. 


"Actually, no. This is like trying to scrape one layer of super glue off 
of another, times three. | did get a message I'm sending in a few 
years time with a brute-forced hash to this set's temporal actuator 
connection IDs, but nothing for the other three. | don't really know 
what that means, but | don't like it one bit. | really need your help on 
this, Thaddeus." 


If there was one thing that Thaddeus Xyank knew, it was that when 
the people under his direction used his first name, they were lost. 


"Alright," he said and rolled up his sleeves, "We're going to need to 
assume that we break the other two right here and now. It's either 
that or we assume Seattle is lost, and I'll be damned if we let an 
entire city go down on my watch. Simone, | need pen, some paper 
and your laptop. And god help me if | find more of that crap on 
there." 


Simone raised an eyebrow and huffed, but handed over the laptop 
to her superior, taking care not to cross the cables attached to its 
various ports. 


"You might not like it, Dr. Xyank, but | enjoy reading a// publications 
on temporal displacement theory, even if they directly contradict 
yours. But fine, delete the lot. | know where to find them again." 


Thaddeus glared at her. 


Kevin sat in the exact center of a bench in Mineral Springs Park and 
stared off into the distance. He was vaguely aware of a voice calling 
to him from somewhere, but it kind of got lost in all the other sensory 
input vying for his attention. He had no idea where he was. The 
park, obviously. But it also seemed to be a fireplace with a fire 
burning in it at the moment. And for some reason, a pig pen. 


"KEVIN!" 


He tried to focus and looked down at the laptop resting lopsided on 


his legs. 

"KEVIN!" 

"Yes?" 

315 closed his eyes and shook his head. 


"Listen to me, Kevin. You need to keep moving. Sitting down will 
only make things worse." 


"But I'm tired," Kevin said, and he was. He could feel his body 
rapidly draining of energy, and with every passing second he was 
becoming more confused about where and who he was. 


315 paused a few seconds before speaking again, "I Know you are, 
Kevin, but | mean it when you say you need to keep moving." 


"Why? Why do I need to keep moving? Why can't | just sleep?" 


315's tone seemed to change ever so slightly, but between the weird 
disconnection from reality Kevin was feeling, and the fog clouding 
his brain, he couldn't figure out exactly how it had changed, or into 
what. 


"Because, Kevin, if you don't keep moving, there might not be 
anywhere to move to." 


"Oh." 


"What a wonderful understatement, Kevin. Now would you please 
pick up this laptop and make your way out of this park. And watch 
out for the...never mind." 


"What?" 
"Nothing, just get moving, Kevin." 
Kevin's shoes and pants were on fire, but they weren't. Once. 


« CAV-005 | CAVALCADE | CAV-007 » 


A Crossing 


Madame Lucia sat where she always did, gazing out her window at 
the impossible plain. The colors shifted. Landmarks changed as the 
land beneath them bubbled and bulged gently. Any sign of structure 
tore itself apart quickly, under a pale circle of light that moved across 
the sky with disturbing fluidity. Just a few steps from the door of the 
castle, the world became... undefined. This was raw firmament, the 
essence of chaos, that would remain so until something observed its 
patterns with an intent to change them, at which point it would 
collapse into logic, never capturing that same uncertainty again. 


Madame Lucia quite enjoyed the view. It soothed her stomach. 
Why had she thought of her stomach? 
Oh, yes. It was bothering her. 


She glanced at the tea cup in her hand. It was jasmine. It had been 
jasmine for the past several decades. She hadn't eaten yet today, so 
it must be the jasmine. She glared at the tea spoon which had been 
the source of the offending beverage. There were more of them. 
There should have been more of them. Her stomach was bothering 
her. She would ask lago where the spoons were. Even such a mild 
cramp was quite intolerable for a woman of Madame's standards. 
She would find lago. 


With that decision made, Madame Lucia poured out her cup of tea 
and poured a new cup of hot water from the tumbler by her side. 
She then reached for the spoon which would transmute it into 
jasmine tea. lago would be by soon to deliver her rat souffle. She 
would find him then. There was no need to lose her patience. Her 
stomach was bothering her. 


It really was a nice view. 


lago dutifully collected the plumpest rats from the small pile 
surrounding the impressive mound of cheese. A few of them still had 
earrings on what remained of their heads, which he carefully 
removed. 


The plan had worked perfectly. A small parcel of cheese had been 
sent off to the world in full view of Madame, while the rest was 
transported in secret to the coldest, plainest room in the castle 
(lago's bedroom), where the rats could gorge themselves silly before 
being slapped into oblivion and introduced to the cheese again as 
an ingredient. 


lago skinned and deboned the rats with the utmost care, throwing 
out anything but the choicest cuts of meat. He then mixed the 
souffle, being sure to place all of the rat meat at the bottom in one 
corner of the enormous dish. Madame did not enjoy the taste of rat. 


A few hours later, lago pushed open the door to Madame's sitting 
room, staggering under the weight of the ramekin. He waited for 
Madame to speak. 


"lago." 


His heart was gripped with terror instantly. He recognized the tone 
that Madame used when peturbed. What had he done? Was the 
souffle late? Had she discovered where he was keeping the 
cheese? 


She was waiting for him to speak. She was being gracious enough 
to allow him to respond and he wasn't saying anything! He was 
keeping her waiting! 


He managed to say, "Yes, Madame?" 
"lago, where are my other tea spoons?" 


He swallowed. "Madame, please, you will, if you would be so kind as 
to desire to do so, remember the minor altercation forty-seven years 
ago with that small group of ruffians that found some sort of Way 
inside the castle?" 


"Yes, of course | do. | told you to take care of it. Do you now 


plexus, left wrist, and right quadriceps. After approximately 30 
seconds in this position, the subject will become a component of 
SCP-601. The collective will repeat this behavior until all 12 
members have been restored. 


Addendum 601-01: SCP-601 was acquired by the Foundation from 

upon their collapse in / /18 . Though most of the 
records kept by were lost or destroyed, remaining evidence 
suggests that SCP-601 was in turn inherited from a prior 
organization. Research into possible origins of SCP-601 are 
ongoing. 


Addendum 601-02: SCP-601 presents several unusual behaviors in 
the presence of food and drink. When first presented with a set of 
beverages for each member, SCP-601 will pour several milliliters of 
each beverage onto the floor prior to consumption. Additionally, 
when presented with beef, lamb, and possibly other forms of meat 
as part of a meal, SCP-601 will attempt to create an open flame with 
any available implements, which it will use to incinerate a portion of 
the meat. Further investigation of the latter behavior is discouraged 
to avoid injury to SCP-601 and damage to the containment facility. 


Addendum 601-03: On / /197 , SCP-601 was presented with a 
copy of Through the Looking Glass in the course of a regularly 
scheduled experiment, with no immediate reaction from or effect on 
the group. However, on the morning following exposure, SCP-601 
was found wearing non-regulation clothing. Each member of 
SCP-601 was dressed in a red costume reminiscent of a chess 
piece, including heavily stylized wooden masks. The individuals’ 
Foundation-issued uniforms were not found in the containment suite. 
Audio logs indicate that upon waking that morning, SCP-601's 
speech consisted of an original description of the events of the 
novel. Upon the conclusion of this description, normal behavior 
resumed. Further experimentation with entertainment media 
requires written consent from the acting director of Site-03. 


« SCP-600 | SCP-601 | SCP-602 » 


presume to tell me that you did not, in fact, take care of it? Are those 
ruffians galivanting about as we speak?" The word speak rose ever 
so slightly in pitch compared to the rest of them, indicating 
Madame's sudden indignant horror. 


lago did not hesitate. "No, of course not, dear Madame. | ejected 
them quickly. However, | am afraid that they managed to... to 
abscond with several of your tea spoons." 


"| see. And, pray," she went on in a voice like honey laced with 
cyanide, "you thought it prudent to keep this from me until this 
moment? | see. Do you, by any chance, know the whereabouts of 
my spoons now, lago?" 


"Ah, in fact | do, Madame!" 
"And you have not retrieved them yet because?" 


"|... am so very sorry, please, Madame, but they are currently in the 
custody of the Philistines." 


"Yes, | could have guessed as much, but which phil-" 


"Er... no, dearest Madame. They are contained by... the 
Philistines..." 


There was a great silence from Madame Lucia. The cup fell to the 
floor and did not shatter. the half-full tumbler knocked over, the 
water inside unmoving. lago did not feel his joints tightening, or his 
skin hardening, but he felt the oppressive force wash over him, 
slowly making movement more and more impossible as the single 
changeless moment stretched on and on... 


...and then Madame got a hold of herself. 


It was not that Madame Lucia hated humanity. Quite the contrary. 
She prized rarity above all, but beyond that, she valued 
ephemerality, impermanence, all those things that existed once and 
never again. Those that were both were twice rare, in space and in 
time. Human lives were so short by the length of eternity, and not a 
single one repeated itself. The ultimate value! 


But then they tried to extend their lives, through memories and 
monuments and words. So they were philistines, not realizing what 
they had and throwing it away like something common such as 
immortality. But they were the worst. Capturing and sustaining all 
manner of one-of-a-kind things. Twice offending by preventing the 
disappearance of their toys, and never allowing change into the 
world. Keeping everything the same and boring, boring, boring! They 
were the worst, and so they were given the capital letter. Philistines. 
The most ignorant of them all. 


This was unacceptable. 
"Iago." Madame Lucia beckoned with her hand. 


lago approached the figure shining in the chair, Knowing never to get 
close enough to see its face, settling for admiring the glimmering 
white waterfall of hair. "Y-yes, Madame?" 


"You have not been among philistines for many years, have you?" 
"Centuries, dear Madame." 


"This will be rectified. | am sending you to retrieve my tea spoons 
from the Philistines." 


"Me? But, but, Madame, please, sweet Madame-" 


"| will hear nothing but 'yes' for my gracious gift, lago. The armory is 
at your disposal. You 

leave within the hour. Mind you get a// of them. But first, you will 
deliver my souffle.” 


lago, shaking, set down the souffle by his mistress, averting his eyes 
as he did so. Madame Lucia tasted it. 


"Ugh. Far too cold." 


lago arrived in the world, landing in the exact same spot where he 
had left it, hundreds of years ago. Unfortunately, it appeared that in 
the interim, somebody had flattened out the land somewhat and built 
a cafe on it. Yielding to gravity, lago dropped five feet into a large 


bowl of cabbage stew, splashing the man sitting in front of it, who 
immediately started screaming. 


Eventually, several cooks came out of the kitchen to see what all the 
fuss was about. lago looked around the deserted room wildly and 
spotted a recessed balcony where several patrons were staring at 
the commotion. He lowered his voice by several social classes, 
pointed, and yelled, "Oi! That bloke has a knife! Someone stop him!" 


The cooks hefted various kitchen utensils and ran for some stairs 
while the second-floor diners looked around uncertainly. lago hauled 
himself out of the bowl and ran out the door, while the rather 
sheepish man in the tweed jacket cried, "My cabbage stew!" and 
continued trying to clean himself off. 


lago found the Philistines' base eventually, simply by wandering 
through the town he was in. It was incredible, he mused. It wasn't 
that nobody saw the men in suits walking into the apparently 
abandoned siore. It just didn't seem to register with them in any 
meaningful way. There was nothing supernatural deflecting their 
attention from the unlocked door, nothing keeping them from 
noticing the suspiciously bulky-looking vagrants hanging around the 
place. The castle's small armory had a few devices for detecting 
tricks like that. They were just completely incurious. There was a 
collection of rare, world-changing, life-changing artifacts hiding in 
plain sight and doing a very shoddy job of it, and they never even 
took notice. 


lago grunted to himself. Philistines. 


There was a small slot that may have just been a crack in the wall 
on the far end of the store. lago inserted a gold card engraved with 
eye-watering patterns and waited. The machine clicked and buzzed 
in greedy pleasure, and a door swung out of the wall, satisfied with 
the bribe. 


lago came to a crossing and headed down the corridor he would 
have pegged as least likely to end up at the section where the 
anomalies were stored, knowing how these sort of things went. He 
turned out to be wrong. However, after several dead ends, and close 
calls, he found a small room with cardboard boxes full of laminated 


cards on lanyards. Visitor passes. lago grabbed one of the important 
looking ones and nipped back to the crossing, amazed at how 
paradoxically paranoid and trusting the Philistines could be. 


Eventually he found himself at a security door, which his pass 
wouldn't let him access. He searched his pockets for something that 
could help him and came up with nothing. The armory is at your 
disposal, Madame had said. Well, that was fantastic, except that 
there hadn't been any need for an armory for centuries, and so it 
was horribly understocked. The trick with the gold card had actually 
been "it," as far as any anomalous help went. lago cursed under his 
breath, turned, and started searching for another way in.