baby names. Jessica? Stanley? Adam? Rachel? Ah well, I'm not 
that far along, by the looks of it. I'll have my family help me think of a 
good name. | wonder if my friends will throw me a shower? | 
wonder... If my friends even got rescued. Everything is such a 
blur... 


The lights are so bright in here. Is that a security camera? Oh good. 
Maybe one of the security guards will tell them I'm awake. I'll just 
keep my feet and head moving to let them know I'm awake. I'm sure 
someone will be along shortly. 


"Subject is lucid. Time until procedure: 4 hours. Time until next 
feeding: 20 minutes." 

Researcher Garland looked through the security monitor, 
sighing heavily. Just six more days, and he could be 
reassigned. He tapped on a computer keyboard, trying to 
distract himself. He tried to occupy his thoughts with other, 
menial things while he waited. His dinner the previous night, 
what he would prepare tonight. He hated eating at the site's 
cafeteria. They always did their best to provide a great meal, 
and it was always a treat, but he believed in the value of a 
home-cooked dish. The other researchers and doctors would 
goad him, as always, about his choice of food. Why spend 
money on food when The Foundation provides free meals? It 
was the principle of the matter, damnit. Besides, what else 
would he spend his money on? 


The door to my room opened. Wow, that's a big door. | hadn't 
noticed that before. A man dressed quite professionally entered. Oh 
good! They finally noticed | was awake! | bob my feet at the man in 
response, looking at the doctor with wide, appreciative eyes. He 
approached me, a rather sullen expression on his face. Why is he so 
glum? I'm awake! Soon, he'll call my parents, and my tube will be 
out, and | can finally enjoy a proper cheeseburger. | want to ask him 
what he's holding, but this damn tube keeps me from talking. 
Instead, | intone at him with a hopeful little grunt. He reaches my 
bedside, attaching something to my feeding tube. Something slithers 
down the piping and slides into my stomach. Well, | suppose it's not 
so bad, | was a bit hungry anyway. He takes my bedpan, changes it, 
and exits wordlessly despite my grunting. Surely he must have 


noticed | was awake. Maybe he was having a bad day. What day 
couldn't be made better with the knowledge your patient had finally 
awoken? That's weird. Maybe his wife divorced him or something. 
No matter, I'm sure he's on the phone with my parents right now. 
Soon, I'll be able to see them. The food made me a bit sleepy, | 
think I'll take a nap until my parents get here. There's nothing better 
to do anyway. Slowly, | drift off into a content slumber. 


"Feeding complete. Time until procedure: 3 hours, 30 minutes." 


Researcher Garland collapsed into his chair, exhaling as he did 
so, staring into the monitor with the expression of man who 
has seen decades of atrocities happen within the span of 25 
days. These days were the worst. The days she was happy. The 
days she didn't know. He watched her as she closed her eyes, 
her breathing slowing to indicate she was dreaming peacefully. 
His heart ached. He wanted to go in there. He wanted to take 
her from all of this, but his duty was essential. He would not 
allow himself even a second of weakness. He only counted the 
minutes until he too, would be happy again. 


| woke up to the sound of my door hissing open again. Finally! My 
parents were here! | can't wait to hug them, hold them in my arms, 
cry during a tearful reunion, and leave together to start my life again. 
Did the lump in my belly get bigger during my nap? I'm sure it's just 
my imagination. | squint my eyes, trying to make out which of the six 
was the doctor, and which two were my parents. What's this? All of 
them are dressed in some orange jumpsuit. Those guys aren't my 
parents. Maybe they're janitors of something. They all look pretty 
stupid. Probably give slow folks jobs to help out the homeless 
community. That's honorable of them. | wonder how long I've been 
asleep. Ah well, | won't bother the janitors. I'm sure they're busy. 


Why are they not cleaning? There's not a mop or bucket between 
them. What's happening? 


This is no hospital. 
"Time: 2237. The procedure has begun." 


Researcher Garland tapped away at his keyboard, keeping his 


eyes on the monitor as instructed by the procedure guidelines. 
The subject made loud, pained moans of protest and agony for 
a few moments over the discussions of the Class-D's before he 
muted the sound. Those sick bastards.... The only thought that 
gave him a smile was that in six days, he would be reassigned, 
and they would be terminated. Although, termination was such 
an easy way out for them. Even the ones among them who were 
reluctant to participate... They deserved so much worse. They 
deserved to suffer as his patient had. They deserved to be fed 
into the gaping maw of a living hell. 


This part always made him nauseous. He was a doctor. He was 
used to seeing blood, gore, trauma. This was different. There 
was no healing in this blood, only anguish. This was malicious. 
It was during these parts that he regretted never taking the 
Hippocratic oath. There were unique opportunities afforded to a 
self-taught mob doctor, the money was great, but when The 
Foundation approached him with the promise of higher pay, a 
formal education, and the chance to work some of the 
strangest cases in the world.... Well, who could refuse? Now, 
he longed for the days when he was prying bullets from 
wounded mobsters. 


Stop.... Please... You're going to kill my baby... 
"Time: 2349. Procedure has been completed to 100% efficacy." 


“Time until next feeding: 8 hours. Time until next procedure, 22 
hours." 


Garland leaned back in his chair, drawing shuddering breaths 
while gathering his personal effects, stuffing them in his day 
bag in preparation for leaving when the night researcher comes 
in. He didn't even know the subject's name. They had redacted 
every thing about her, her past, her family. Everything. It was a 
smart decision. If they hadn't, he probably would have risked 
his career, even his life, to save her. It was easier if he just 
didn't know. 


"Hey Bruce," a voice chirps over the intercom. Garland looks 
over to another monitor, spotting his relief. He buzzes her in. 


"Man, you look like hell. Well, like more hell than usual. What's 
got you so glum?" Doctor Kanade peered at Garland as she 
plopped her backpack down on the counter, retrieving a bottle 
of water and an apple, taking a bite from it and chewing noisily. 
Doctor Garland only gave her a knowing look, before sighing 
and putting his eyes to the floor. 


"Oh.... Right, day one... Bruce, you can't be so invested in her. 
What we do here is keeping all of us safe. You, your relatives, 
hell even some poor damn kids in Timbuktu or some shit. Don't 
let it get to you." 


"You're lucky to be on the night shift, Amy..." replied Bruce as 
he walked toward the containment area's door. "I'll see you in 
twelve hours." 


Doctor Kanade hoisted her half-eaten apple in a mock salute 
before he turned and walked from the area, the door hissing 
closed behind him. Twelve hours passes so soon when you're 
dreading the next day. 


I'm still crying. Four hours after that horrible experience. I'm still 
crying. My throat hurts so bad.... They killed my baby... They took it 
from me... | want to rub my now flat stomach, it hurts so bad. | can't 
move my arms. Can't move my legs... | don't deserve this. | don't 
deserve this. | don't deserve this. | don't deserve this.... 


Day Two 


A female doctor came in this morning and stuffed more food paste in 
my tube. She changed my bedpan gave me a quick sponge-bath. 
They know. They know what happened. | can tell. Why don't they do 
anything? | want to go home... | just want to go home... |... wait, 
what's this lump in my belly? | thought... Was it just a bad dream? 
Maybe some drug-induced hallucination? That has to be it, but it felt 
so real... | breathe a sigh of relief. There's still some pain, but I'm 
sure that's just psychos-... psycho-something. Ghost pains. But 
then, why was there some blood in that water after the doctor 
finished bathing me? Weird. Oh hey, it's the sad doctor! He feeds 
me lunch, or is it dinner? | can't tell. There's no clocks in here. | can't 
taste it, of course, but I'm not sure that I'd want to. | hope | can see 


my parents soon. After lunch, | decide to nap. Not much else | can 
do in this damn bed. 


Day two isn't as bad as day one, but only just. She still has 
hope today. She's still able to smile. | think she believes the last 
night was some sort of crazy nightmare. Who wouldn't? It's too 
horrific to think it's real. It's a natural defense mechanism of the 
mind to disassociate from the pain and trauma. 


"Begin the procedure." 


It'll be easier after this, it always is. Just make it through 
tonight. He watches as the men begin their work, keeping the 
volume muted. 


Oh, the door is opening. Maybe | can finally see my parents. 


That lump in my belly is definitely bigger than before. Something's 
wrong. 


Wait... six figures. Orange jumpsulits..... 
Oh god. 
It wasn't a nightmare. It's happening again. 


Doctor Garland watched the procedure again, as ordered. He 
watches her twitch with horrible pain, convulse in agony, sob 
uncontrollably. The Class-D's rotate in their roles once a day so 
everyone takes a turn performing specific parts of the 
procedure. Just four more days after today... Count the 
minutes. He'd be getting a well-deserved vacation after this, 
and then he'd be reassigned to a different project. Anything 
would be better than this. 


"Time: 2259. Procedure complete to 100% efficacy. Time until 
next procedure: 22.5 hours" 


His relief came early tonight. Probably to give him a break from 
the previous day. He buzzed her in, gathered his things, and 
left. 


Harrison, suppress that doorway. Frag out! 
<Explosion> 


Agent Michaels (T2L): Gabardi, Doc, get the 60 set, 
we're coming up. Trapper One's gone, and I'm dropping 
gas. Mask up. GAS GAS GAS! 


<Three muffled popping sounds can be heard.> 
Agent Michaels (T2L): Coming up the stairs! 


Agent Harrison (T2): They're slowing down. Get Three, 
Michaels? 


Agent Michaels (T2L): Home, we've deployed VX and 
need Three down here in MOPP for cleanup. Set up 
decon. 


Agent Shandrick (T3L): Roger, Two, we're already on 
Our way. 


Agent Gabardi (T2): SHIT! 
<Gunshot> 


Agent Michaels (T2L): Whoa... Nice shot, Gabardi. 
Home, we've got an unconscious one. We're gonna need 
a mobile containment unit, and medical support for the 
candidate, | think it sucked down some VX. I'm not 
hearing any more movement down those stairs, Home. 


Trapper Home: Copy, Two. Standby for linkup with 
Three, extricate the candidate, and hit decon. We're 
done here. 


<End transcript> 


Day Three 


| woke up today crying. Only crying. My hospital bed must be 
stained by now from all the tears. They all know what they're doing 
to me... My belly has a lump again. I'm pregnant again. But they 
killed my baby again last night. They took it from me again. But I'm 
pregnant again. Again. I'm pregnant again. They'll come again 
tonight, and do it again. All of it. Every sickening second of it. | don't 
want to eat. | want to die. Let me die, please. | want to die... | want 
to die... Is it morning, or night? I'll just try to sleep... 


“Begin the procedure." 


Oh god... They're here again. It's happening again. | want to die. 
Please, kill me! Kill me! 


Day Four 


| must be in hell. That's it. I'm in hell. | died already, and I'm in hell. 
That's why | keep getting pregnant, that's why it grows so fast. 
That's why they delight in killing it day after day. 


I'm in hell. 
Day Five 


They're here again. They're doing it again. Just bear with it, and | 
can sleep again. Sleep is the only thing that lets me escape from 
this. The one slice of sanity | have left. Just hurry up so | can sleep 
again. 


Day Six 


Doctor Garland was counting the minutes, the seconds now. 
Just a few short minutes more, and he would be able to leave 
this place, take his amnesiacs, and forget all about this place. 
He sipped from a coffee cup, watching what would be his last 
viewing of the procedure. He vaguely wondered what they'd 
replace this month with. He hoped it would be something 
boring. 


“Wakey wakey, Bruce." Finally, it was done. Amy was here to 


relieve him, he buzzed her in, quickly gathering his belongings, 
stuffing them into his bag. Amy clapped him on the shoulder, 
giving him a wide grin as she bit into a pear, chewing loudly. 


“Been a hell of a month, huh? Well, this shit's over for me too. 
They're sending your replacement to me tomorrow, then I'm 
outta here too." Doctor Kanade mused between chewing. 


"| can't say it's been good working with you, because it hasn't, 
replied Doctor Garland, who received a hearty guffaw in 
response as he left the containment area for the last time. 


Bruce Garland set his backpack down on his dorm's desk, 
collapsing into his bed. On his bedside table, lay a manilla 
envelope containing two small pills, and a letter. Immediately 
he swallowed the pills without water, and pulled open the letter 
to view its contents. 


Dr. Bruce Garland 


POST PROJECT BRIEFING 

Included with this briefing is one (1) Class-A amnesiac 
and one (1) Ambien brand sleep aid. Take both at once. 
The memories you are to receive are of a field 
assignment assisting MTF-Lambda-P ("Whisperers") in 
the recapture of an SCP following a containment breach. 
The work involved the treatment of injuries for wounded 
personnel on the field assignment. It was noted by the 
Commanding Officer that you had performed admirably 
under duress, and a commendation regarding your 
performance will be added to your permanent personnel 
file. You are also entitled to a raise of $6,000 USD onto 
your yearly salary. You are hereby ordered to take four 
weeks (31 days) vacation to rest, and report to Site 
Personnel Director Bright for reassignment concluding 
your vacation. 


This concludes your post project briefing. 


Doctor Garland smiled for the first time in a month, crumpling 
the letter and tossing it in his empty wastebasket. He pulled a 


small flask of whiskey from his bag, taking a long draw before 
climbing under his covers and drifting into a peaceful slumber, 
anxious to begin his vacation. 


Doctor Garland awoke with a headache. That was a hell of a 
hang-over. He shouldn't have drunk so much on his last day of 
vacation. But, he'd deserved a hell of a good time after his two- 
week stint with that MTF unit. Those guys got it pretty bad. That 
skip wasn't easy to recover. He opened his eyes groggily and 
stretched. He stood, picking up a pair of slacks from the floor, 
reaching into its pocket to retrieve the phone number of the hot 
researcher he'd talked with the night before. It wasn't there. 
Damn, he thought. He must have dropped it during his drunken 
stumble back to his dorm. No matter, he'll run into her again, he 
assures himself. 


He walked to his door, finding a manilla envelope had been slid 
under it the night before. He reached down, picking it up. Why 
couldn't they tell him his assignment personally? No matter, 
such is life within The Foundation. Opening the envelope, he 
found only a small note regarding his new assignment. 


Dr. Bruce Garland 


REASSIGNMENT BRIEFING 

Dr. Garland is to report immediately to the transportation 
annex of Site-19 for assignment to a one-month project 
regarding SCP-231-7. Class-A amnesiacs will be 
provided if requested following the conclusion of the 
project. Any questions regarding the project should be 
addressed to your Site Director. 


Thank you. 
Dr. Jack Bright