The closest table was clean, neatly arranged. Not a single corner of 
the rug spread out underneath it was curled up or otherwise out of 
order. The magazines and newspapers sitting atop it were carefully 
set into a precise, complex arrangement rather than simply spread 
out all willy-nilly. Either the man behind the counter or someone on 
the site's maintenance crew obviously took their job seriously. A 
stickler for neatness herself, Janice made sure to memorize the 
exact location and positioning of the local paper she picked up 
before settling into a chair and opening it. 


SCP-917: Mr. Moon 


Item #: SCP-917 
Object Class: Safe 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-917 is to be kept ina 
standard humanoid containment cell. Music and literature may be 
made available on request. 


One aide is to be assigned to SCP-917 at all times. Aides are to be 
rotated on 6-hour shifts. SCP-917 may request to be left in solitude 
at any time. However, this privilege is restricted to four (4) hours a 
day. 


A basic Braille-based communication book has been supplied to 
SCP-917. Simple communication may be performed through this 
medium, as well as agreed-upon hand signals. Personnel are 
instructed to not awaken SCP-917 while in new-moon phase unless 
absolutely required, as this may cause panic in the subject. 
Personnel are to wait until SCP-917 gives the agreed-upon signal 
before interaction. 


SCP-917 suffers from moderate arthritis, and is to be supplied with 
medication when feeding is possible. 


As of current regulations on "Misters", SCP-917 is to be contained in 
Hall of Site- . 


Description: SCP-917 appears to be an elderly Caucasian male. 
Subject’s facial features appear to degenerate and regenerate in 
relation to the lunar cycle, completely disappearing during the new 
moon and normal during the full moon. Subject’s ears, eyes, nose, 
and mouth will disappear, but facial wrinkles remain. This 
degeneration and regeneration mimics the phases of the moon, 
beginning at the left ear and crossing the subject's face. 


She had just finished reading everything of even the slightest 
interest to her and had resorted to opening the sports section when 
one of the elevators behind her dinged softly and let out an older 
gentleman wearing a tailored suit and tie. She quickly stood, folded 
the paper neatly, and had just gotten it back in its place before he 
had made his way over to her. With a smile that oozed with the kind 
of confidence that sent Janice's hackles up, he offered a hand that 
she begrudgingly but firmly shook. 


"Todd Wilson," the man said by way of introduction, "and you must 
be Miss Bell. A pleasure to meet you, and let me officially welcome 
you to Site-3408." 


Janice took her hand back as quickly as seemed socially 
appropriate. "Director Wilson?" she said skeptically. 


"Ah, yes," he chuckled. "Assistant Site Director, to be precise, but 
I'm sure even that may seem a bit unusual to you. To say 'we run 
things differently here’ would be trite, and I'm afraid that any other 
explanations will have to wait until we're in a more security- 
controlled area. If you'll just follow me ... " 


Wilson nodded briefly at the receptionist as he led Janice through a 
nearby security door and into a wide hallway. "So, Miss Bell-" 


"Doctor Bell." 


The assistant director didn't miss a beat. "Of course, Dr. Bell. How 
was your flight?" 


"Miserable." 


"Ah, that's unfortunate. Can | get you anything? A bottle of water? 
An energy drink? Perhaps you would like to see your room before 
we get started?" 


Janice huffed. "To be honest, director," she said, "I'd really just like 
to get this over with. Blind calls like this always end up being a 
fucking bitch, and it never gets any better by putting it off.” 


Much to her surprise, Wilson let out a genuine-sounding laugh and 
flashed his perfectly straight teeth at her in a wide grin. "Doctor, you 


are refreshingly to the point. | assume they didn't tell you much 
about Site-3408, then?" 


"Next to nothing,” she said. "All | know is this is some kind of 
experimental containment facility, which is almost always code for 
‘don't bother trying to read anything past this point unless you're 
really into black marker’. I'm kinda surprised that | got clearance to 
know the address instead of just showing up outside with a blindfold 
and an amnestic headache." 


"Yes, that does sound about right, and | do apologize about having 
to keep you in the dark, but our situation here is a bit delicate. Thirty- 
four-oh-eight is one of the most technologically advanced and 
sophisticated sites that the Foundation has ever built." 


"I'd assumed as much already," she groused. "I wouldn't be here 
otherwise. So, what did you break?" 


Rather than answer her, Wilson turned to a door near the end of the 
hallway and held it open for her. "Please," he said, motioning her 
inside. 


The room beyond was large, with a high ceiling and a small stage 
set up on the far side. Metal folding chairs were set up in rows facing 
the stage, and in one of those chairs was a man that appeared to be 
all arms and angles. He jumped up and span around when Wilson 
firmly shut the door. 


"Oh! Mr. Wilson, hey, you're here! | was just-" 


"Dr. Bell, this is Leroy McAllister, the head of our IT department,” the 
assistant director said, cutting the other man off. "Leroy, this is Dr. 
Janice Bell, who | very much hope will be able to solve the issues 
we've been experiencing.” 


Leroy simply gaped for a moment, then recovered and stuck out a 
thin hand. "Hi!" he said. "Uh, sorry, | kind of lost track of time. 
Welcome to Site-3408." 


"Thanks," Janice replied, reluctantly and only briefly taking the man's 
proffered hand. "So what did they break?" 


Leroy laughed nervously and glanced over at Director Wilson. "Ah, 
well, the thing about that is ... we don't exactly know. Kind of." 


"Of course you don't," Janice said, sighing and pinching the bridge 
of her nose. The answer wasn't unexpected, simply disappointing. 
"Director-" 


"Mr. McAllister, is the presentation ready?" Wilson asked quickly. 
"The glasses then, if you would please." 


The technician was nodding fervently, grateful for the distraction. 
"One sec," he told them, then stalked over to a fold-out table sitting 
next to the entrance. There, several pairs of safety glasses were 
sitting in a thick, grey base that looked like a charging station to 
Janice. Leroy plucked three pairs from their cradles, handing one 
each to Janice and Wilson before sliding the third on himself. 


Janice turned her pair over in her hands, noting the silvery contacts 
set into the ear- and nose-pieces. 


"You are, of course, familiar with augmented reality, Dr. Bell?" the 
assistant director asked. 


"Aside from the current generation of smartphone tomfoolery and 
military applications, I'm familiar with the fact that the Foundation 
has been developing its own system," she said. "| assume you're 
going to tell me that part of being 'most technologically advanced 
and sophisticated’ is that you already have functioning site-wide 
AR?" 


Wilson tapped the arm of his glasses and smirked. "! wouldn't 
presume to tell you something that you obviously figured out on your 
own." 


Ignoring the ham-handed flattery, Janice slid the AR lenses over her 
own wire-framed glasses, making sure the contacts were 
unobstructed by her hair. Once everything was in place, she looked 
up, down, and to each side. 


"Okay, so where's the ‘on’ button?" 


"Let's have a seat first, shall we?" Motioning them forward, Wilson 


led the doctor and technician down to the front row. "We have a 
small presentation set up to showcase the most pertinent 
advancements we've included in Site-3408's construction." 


"I'm sorry, director," Janice said, trying to keep her temper, "but | 
don't really need the press junket." 


"Naturally you will be given access to all the necessary technical 
documentation," Wilson continued, "but it would take quite some 
time for you to read it all. Weeks, perhaps. This presentation was 
initially created for the O5 Council, Ethics Committee, various site 
directors, the usual suspects. Since we still have it on file, it's use 
here is simply convenient to introduce you to our little problem and 
how it could potentially turn into something more serious, as well as 
show you what parts of the documentation you should focus your 
attention on. Everyone comfortable? Then let's begin. Mr. McAllister, 
if you please." 


Leroy, seated on Janice's right, pulled out his Foundation-issue 
phone and started tapping away at it. After a few seconds, Janice 
felt the AR frame's contacts warm slightly against her skin. All 
around her, the dull grey room began to fill up with small blocks of 
text and images. Arrows pointed her to the emergency exits. Small 
signs let her know that the fire suppression systems were primed 
and ready to activate for her safety. The wall behind the stage had lit 
up like a movie screen with the Foundation's logo rotating serenely 
in the center. 


She looked down and saw small badges floating just under Leroy 
and Wilson's left shoulders. As she focused on Leroy's, it suddenly 
sprang out from his chest, rotated to face her, and expanded in her 
field of vision. Where before the badge had shown a few bits of 
general information such as his name, job class, and clearance 
level, the new pane she was skimming through had what she 
assumed had to be an abridged version of his employee record. 


Leroy looked over and gave a lopsided grin when he noticed her 
staring at the space in front of him. "Pretty cool, right?" he asked 
her, then pointed down at her chest. 


She looked down and wasn't entirely surprised to see that she had 


her own spectral badge floating a few centimeters from the collar of 
her jacket. Instinctively, she reached up and grabbed the badge to 
get a better view, suppressing a small gasp of shock when the 
badge actually moved. It wasn't a perfect illusion since she couldn't 
actually feel anything there and her fingers were phasing through it 
at points, but it was still one of the most sophisticated displays of 
three-dimensional contextual recognition she could remember 
seeing. After moving one of her fingers out of the way, she could 
easily see that the badge was her guest identification. 


"All settled in, Dr. Bell?" 


Janice looked over at the assistant director and let the badge fall 
back against her chest. "Yeah," she said, trying to sound 
nonchalant. "Ready whenever you are." 


At Wilson's direction, an image of the site's Serenity Cove exterior 
popped up on the screen. "We'll spare you the full presentation," he 
said. "Just imagine stirring music playing over the boilerplate 
attempts to secure funding and allay the fears of the non-technical 
crowd. 3408, as you previously mentioned, is indeed an 
experimental containment site, one focused not simply on 
technological advancement, but on how that advancement can help 
the Foundation maintain the veil of secrecy necessary for our work. 


"I'm certain you know the old saying about how three people can 
keep a secret if two of them are dead. Given the tools we have at 
our disposal, that could be amended to ‘if two of them are 
amnesticized'. Site-3408 seeks to expand that list of tools even 
further, and one of the primary ways we are doing that it through the 
use of automation." 


A montage began to play across the screen, showing a variety of 
automated systems. Some of them Janice was quite familiar with 
while others she was not. 


"Of course, many containment procedures already require elements 
of automation," Wilson continued, "from simple systems such as 
drains and sprinklers to wash away various anomalous and non- 
anomalous substances to more complex machines designed to 
apply extremely precise computer-calculated levels of atmospheric 


pressure to an anomalous object's ever-shifting outer surface. 
Processes that extend outside of Foundation sites are also using 
more technology more often to achieve our goals. Drones exploring 
extra-spatial areas, webcrawlers searching the internet for memetic 
triggers, and much more. 


"Despite this, we still have security personnel. We still have 
maintenance staff. Supply and logistics, constant streams of 
administrative busywork, almost all of it still being handled by human 
beings, each one of them a potential break in the veil. Here at 
Site-3408, we are trying to eliminate as many of those breaks as we 
can." 


"So, what, you've got a whole fleet of Roombas?" Janice asked 
sarcastically. 


Wilson laughed. "Something like that," he said. 


"Well at least it explains why the assistant director and head of IT 
both have time to meet me personally. How many people actually 
work here on a regular basis?" 


"How many humans, you mean?" Wilson looked off to one side, and 
it only took a moment for Janice to realize that he was looking at an 
employee list that she couldn't see. "At the moment we have fifteen 
D-Class personnel, thirteen junior researchers, seven senior 
researchers, twelve technicians, two security officers, two 
maintenance workers, and five members of the administrative staff, 
including myself. Site-3408 is also home base for our local mobile 
task force, but they have been away on assignment for the past 
week." 


As Wilson read from the list, personnel dossiers briefly flashed 
across the screen. Janice hummed lightly to herself. "And I'm 
guessing you're not about a thousand people shy of what you 
should have just because the place is new," she said. 


"Since the troubles started, we've actually been running at around 
half-capacity to keep potential human casualties down," said Wilson. 
"Under optimal conditions, 3408 could, in fact, run smoothly with a 
skeleton crew of ten humans." 


A crease formed in Janice's brow. "Humans', not 'people’." She 
sighed. "You had Al running everything, and you broke them." 


"Ah, well," Leroy, silent for the entire presentation, suddenly 
interjected. He cleared his throat, looked miserably uncomfortable, 
and said, "Not ‘broke’, exactly. And not 'them’. Most of the artificial 
intelligences are just fine and dandy, still cleaning up and making 
sure the doors stay locked, stuff like that. It's just ... well, here." He 
tapped at his phone again, causing the shifting slide of employees to 
slow and come to a halt. 


Dispassionate green eyes stared out from a long, female face. Dark 
hair framed that face and fell long behind a business suit that was so 
perfectly cut to the woman's figure that it made Wilson's thousand 
dollar outfit look like it came straight off a department store rack. 
Janice tore her eyes away from the striking image only to find that 
the accompanying dossier was redacted to a fault. Only two pieces 
of information were not covered by blackboxes: name and 
occupation. 


"Dr. Bell, meet Isanna Yamaguchi," Wilson said, his voice suddenly 
weary. "Site-3408's Director and Central Intelligence." 


Janice leaned forward in her seat. Things had finally gotten 
interesting. "So if you didn't break it, then what exactly happened?" 


"She, um ... " Leroy swallowed hard. "She's missing." 


Faraway Voices Hub (TBA) | Showing the Way » 


Project Morpheus 


Project Codename: Morpheus 
Project #: PRJMRF-000010 
Clearance and File #: NPF-0005742 
Head Researcher: Dr. Thomas Bailey 


Project Aims: Establishment of a Class | pseudo-Oneiric Apparition 
capable of multi-universal communication for the manipulation of 
extra-universal causalities for the propagation and betterment of the 
Foundation and its mission statement. [1] 


Raw Materials: 


* SCP-990 (O5 CLEARANCE) 
Item #: SCP-990 
Object Class: Thaumiel 


Clearance Designation: O5 personnel. Selected Level 
4 or below personnel are cleared under CODE 
NIDHOGG.