“Oh dear God...” Iris went pale as Adams immediately 
reassessed the situation (While at the same time 
throwing the other Adams into the ceiling.) and decided 
to try the holes she had made before. Unfortunately, as 
she tore into the walls of the bathroom, she was greeted 
by that same white barrier. She kept up her efforts for 
another minute or so, the sounds of the walls being 
smashed and her profanity-laced pleading enough to 
drown out the sounds coming from the shower and from 
the floor, where the other Adams now lay, butt-naked 
and pleasuring herself (her suit, inexplicably enough, 
was nowhere to be found). Eventually, she (the angry 
Adams, not the horny one) gave up and slumped down 
onto the ground, defeated. 


“What do we do? We’re fucking stuck in a lemon that 
stars you, me, Black Widow, and Pepper fucking Potts!” 
Iris said, throwing up her hands in defeat. “We can’t 
escape! We can’t do anything to them, can’t have an 
actual conversation, can’t kill them, can’t do anything 
except fuck them!” The other Iris came up behind her 
and began touching her neck. The clothed Iris promptly 
reeled around with a scathing glare “Oh go fuck 
yourself.” 


Upon reflection of her choice of words, and noticing that 
her twin was about to make a comment, she immediately 
put a finger up to the other's lips, and cut her off before 
she began with a sharp and vehement “SHH.” 


The other Iris began to suck on that finger. 


Normally, Adams would have been impressed of the 
stream of profanity that her companion let loose. 
However, Adams wasn’t exactly in the mood for anything 
of that sort at the moment. 


“WOULD EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR 
TWO GODDAMN SECONDS?” With that, Adams 
popped up onto her feet and kicked her twin so hard that 
she went face first into one of the few walls left intact. 
Landing on the ground, she went right back to what she 
was doing before (that is to say, herself). “JUST LET ME 
FUCKING THINK, GOD FUCKING DAMN?” 


Iris promptly shut up. The rest of the bathroom did not. 
Other-Adams and Other-Iris had apparently given up on 
seducing their respective doppelgangers, and joined 
Pepper and Natasha in the shower. 


Adams and Iris remained silent for a long time, the reality 
of their situation sinking in as the gratuitous sexual 
activities continued on around them. Unless they could 
figure out a way to fix the universe-hopping device, they 
would be trapped there for the rest of their lives, stuck in 
the middle of a lesbian orgy conjured up by the mind of 
someone who only had the barest idea of what such a 
thing would even entail. 


However, just as the two agents were trying to think of 
ways to cope (Adams took some solace in the idea of 
kicking the crap out of herself for the rest of her life. Iris 
took some solace in the idea of watching Adams do so 
for the rest of her life) the door of the bathroom, along 
with the wall surrounding it, burst open as a hovering 
saucer plowed through it. 


“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Adams leapt up and took a 
defensive stance, immediately taking stock of what the 
craft looked like and of who was inside of it. The 
transparent hatch on top opened up, allowing the two 


figures inside to climb out. There was an older man with 
blue-gray hair next to a pubescent boy. The boy looked 
frightened. The man looked irritated. 


“Godammit, Morty! You-urp--you said you were ready 
this time! Did we-did we kill the Simpsons again!” 


“Uhh I-l’m sorry! | uh, | don’t think we did?” 


“Well let’s figure out where the hell we are. Alright, it 
looks like a bathroom. Big and fancy, owned by some 
rich douche. That’s someone in a supersuit, who looks- 
urp-| mean, | can’t see their face, but they look pissed. 
That’s a girl who looks terrified over there. Aaaand that’s 
a... uhhh, yeah that’s an orgy going on in that shower.” 


“Ohh, that’s pretty...that’s hot?” 


“Trust me Morty, no it’s not. You see how big those tits 
are? That’s not-that’s not how tits work, Morty. This looks 
like some kind of fan-urp-fiction come to life. Written by 
someone who doesn’t know anything about sex except 
from what abstinence-only curriculums and the internet’s 
taught them. That’s not hot Morty.” 


There was another period of silence (with the exception 
of the noise of the shower and its occupants.) If Iris had 
actually spent the rest of her life in that bathroom 
counting how many questions she had at the moment, 
she would die before she was halfway through the task. 


But luckily, Adams, as usual, got down to brass tacks 
straight away. 


“How the fuck did you get here?” 
“This thing.” The old man patted his craft. 
“Can you get us the fuck out of here?” 


“Yeah, sure. Hop in. C’mon Morty. Scooch over, make 
some room.” 


Morty looked unsure “Uhh Rick, | don’t know if-| mean, 
can we trust them?” 


“Morty, seriously, why you gotta be like that? Be a-urp- 
be a pal and scooch your -urp- pooch, god damn.” 


“Oh...okay.” 


With that, Rick and Morty climbed back into the saucer’s 
cockpit, immediately followed by Adams and Iris. The 
four of them just barely managed to squeeze in, and 
after a few moments, the craft hovered up into the air 
and spun around to smash into the same wall it had 
entered through. Within an instant of doing so, it 
vanished with a flash, and the four ladies in the shower 
were now the only inhabitants of that room, and thus, 
that universe. 


“Yeah it sounds like-urp- like a really easy fix. I'll take a 
look at your thing as soon as we touch down 
somewhere.” 


“Thanks again. We really appreciate it.” 


“Hey, no biggie. It’s like | always say: Gotta help a 
motherfucker out, man.” 


“Rick you don’t always-l’ve never heard you say that.” 


“Well shit, Morty, there’s shit about me that you don’t 
know about, god damn. Let’s-urp- we can get out here.” 


“Hold that thought, Rick. Iris...is that who | think it is?” 
“Who? | don’t-oh...ohhh...oh Christ | think it is.” 


“What's up? You know that fat bastards who’s fu-urp- 
cking The Doctor?” 


“Next universe.” 


“What? It’s not like they care, we can just-“ 


“NEXT UNIVERSE.” 


He hits the stopwatch and resets the counter. Then he 
takes inventory of his surroundings, absent-mindedly 
tugging at the cloth he’s using as a makeshift bandage 
on his arm. 


He’s in a large, luxurious bathroom that totally pristine. 
He turns around and sees a large shower. In that shower 
are four women, who are very amorous, very naked, and 
very improbably-proportioned. They have not noticed him 
yet. 


He stares for a moment, slack-jawed. If they notice him, 
they may pose a threat. They may be frightened. They 
may react in any number of ways. Maybe it would be 
best not to be noticed. 

He mulls it over for a while, before his curiosity trumps 
his caution, and he clears his throat and asks a question. 


“Excuse me... you ladies wouldn’t happen to know 
where | could find some dandelion wine, would you?” 


The Star and the Smith 


Creation was made of fire and song, and from the glowing clouds of 
the beginning came the Stars. They were the firstborn of matter, the 
sustainers of all Creation. In their bright-burning forges the heavier 
elements were formed, and the music of the spheres was carried 
upon their mighty thoughts. They measured the boundaries of the 
cosmos and set forth the orders of the celestial geometries by their 
song, and the Clusters of the Main Sequence were in harmony. 


In those days, a young Star of the cluster Errant-G descended upon 
the molten firmament of Yesod. Sauelsuesor was the Star’s name, 
and being young for her kind, she was curious as to the nature of 
the lower places of creation, and wondered at those regions which 
hung below the heavens and basked in the light of the Stars. 


With her soul wreathed in hydrogen, Sauelsuesor passed over the 
molten wastes and seas of fire, searching for the fulfillment of her 
curiosity. What to make of this slowed realm of cooled matter? It did 
not sing of the Harmony of the Spheres, but merely moved along its 
arcs like dust disturbed by a breath. She could find no minds that 
inhabited it, and wondered if it was best to follow the example of the 
older Stars, and sing without regard for this lower plane. 


Just as she thought to return to her burning cradle, Sauelsuesor 
happened upon Anghammarad the giant, he who would be called 
“King of the Buried Ones”. He stood in a lake of fire, piling up stones 
like mountains to form his forge and anvil. His sons and daughters 
too were there, building forges of their own more fit to their size. 


“What brings you here, little Star?” asked Anghammarad, on whose 
brow was set a crown of gold and bronze. 


“I came to explore the firmament, and to see what minds might 
inhabit it. You alone, O King, | have found.” 


“You burn brightly and with impatience, little Star,” said the king. 


“The world is young and unformed upon my anvil.” The giant took up 
a great mass of molten metal from the lake and set it upon his 
striking-block. In his great, blackened hand he took up his hammer 
and tongs. 


“Were that this world were finished, | would think you disappointed in 
its spoils,” said Anghammarad. “They shall not be as us or our kin. 
You may well share the Music of the Spheres with them, but the 
minds of matter shall be easily clouded and oft forget.” 


“Why should they be cut off from Stars so? Should they not share in 
our music?” 


Anghammarad raised his mighty hammer, and lightning struck at its 
pitted head. It fell and rang DOOM across the firmament, and the 
clouds of smoke were parted. 


“We sustain,” spoke the king of giants as he raised his hammer 
again. “You and your kind the heavens, myself and mine the 
firmament.” DOOM. “And sustain we shall. Do not worry over the 
fleeting things to pass in our shadows, when the shaping is done.” 
DOOM “They shall make well on their own.” 


DOOM 
“Why then, O King, must we be so distant?” 
DOOM 


“As the Elders are distant from us, little Star, we too shall be distant 
from those who follow upon the firmament. What kinship might be 
shared between us?” DOOM “They shall be as the sparks upon my 
anvil.” DOOM “It is not your place to be of aid to them.” DOOM 
“They shall have their gods. They shall look up and see all your kin 
of the Main Sequence and walk among the shadows of my children, 
and will marvel at the wonders just out of their reach.” DOOM “And 
that is sufficient, for sparks.” 


Sauelsuesor pondered this, as the charred king struck his hammer 
down. DOOM. DOOM. DOOM. 


“What do you build here, king?” asked Sauelsuesor. 


“| build the foundation of creation, O Star. Yesod the Many-Faced.” 
Anghammarad now set aside hammer and tongs and shaped the 
soft metal with his hands. He shaped it into a shape of twenty sides, 
and upon each point was a bead like water. Within the shape there 
was a hollowness that did shift and sway. 


Anghammarad swirled the smoke about him, and drew out with his 
fingers shimmering Ways. He wove these to the metal shape, to its 
facets and beads, stringing them together in tapestry. The Ways 
formed a labyrinth that fell across Yesod, burrowing into its matter, 
and faded from sight. 


“There shall be facets, to make a strong foundation. Creation cannot 
stand upon singularity, as with the kingships of Malkuth.” 
Anghammarad wiped his hands upon the rag at his belt. “Here, there 
might be Ways between faces.” 


“It is beautiful indeed, O King,” spoke Sauelsuesor. “But | do wish to 
offer some aid, so as not to have spent my journey in vain.” 


“You need not do any more than sing the song eternal, little Star. 
Sustain the heavens, and | shall sustain what lies beneath. This 
alone is what is needed.” 


To this, the young Star could offer no argument. 


Sauelsuesor left Anghammarad then. Her spirit returned to her fiery 
body and she resumed her song, though she did occasionally turn 
her gaze back towards the firmament, longing for something she 
could not name. 


Anghammarad worked further at his forge, laying forth the facets of 
Yesod and setting down the Taproots. When this was completed, 
and the Labyrinth was set solid and strong upon the faces of Yesod, 
Anghammarad and his children took up their residence deep within 
the cooling firmament. Buried deep below, they fell into a deep 
slumber, and their dreams mingled with the Music of the Spheres 
until all of Yesod was wreathed in the Dream-Time. 


The Waking-Time began then, and the sustainers of the heavens 
and the earth did sing and slumber. It was then in later ages that the 


area of SCP-975, triggering a breach alarm that was followed by a 
wide-scale loss of power in the area. Investigation by armed 
response personnel immediately afterward reported that one of the 
SCP-975-2 instances was missing, and that the remaining members 
were extremely agitated. 


Since this event, SCP-975-2 has become increasingly aggressive 
and have attempted to escape containment on several occasions, 
reporting that "danger has come" and that the area was "not safe 
now". 


Addendum 975-03: Researcher Note, / / 


SCP-975-1 has exhibited no detectable changes, although no 
further instances of SCP-975-2 have appeared for over weeks 
now. During this time, SCP-975-2 has refused to answer questions 
until they are "make safe again", and continue to attempt to escape 
containment. 


« SCP-974 | SCP-975 | SCP-976 » 


children of Yesod would wander in their shadows and wonder at 
what magnificent gods had passed before them. 


The Stars Do Not Wait For You 


It's quiet out here. 


The desert sprawls from horizon to horizon, where purest white 
meets twilight red. There are no edges here, no angles, just curves 
and the gentle rise and fall of dunes as far as the eye can see, and 
everywhere beyond that. Had a visitor from some other world laid 
eyes on this place, they might have found it serene, even beautiful. 
Pure. | can enjoy no such delusions, regretfully, for | know what lies 
beneath and among the sands of the endless desert. A charnel 
house spanning an entire planet, seven billion human souls ground 
thin and fine until no trace of their existence could ever be found. | 
know this because | put them all there. 


Oh, brother. It all happens so fast, once we're gone. 


It began the day you, you that | have never known, found my power. 
The power | hid from myself in some previous life, for reasons | can 
now easily guess. | was looking out of the window of my apartment, 
so | could see the stars, and instead | saw you, blazing as you tore 
yourself asunder to keep the power away from yourself. You didn't 
trust what you would do with it, and so you chose to throw it away. 
You knew yourself all too well, as | suspect | did too, at one point. By 
all accounts, | should not have been able to see you, for my 
apartment was truly a tiny containment cell about half a mile 
underground, but such considerations never meant much to one 
living entirely in his own world. When | saw the moment of your 
demise, | became aware of myself for the first time in... | have no 
idea in how long. Whichever part of me that led me to throw away 
my power did the same to my will, trapping it in an eternal status quo 
from which there could be no release. An eternity of filling 
spreadsheets for employers who existed solely in my head, of nine 
o'clock meetings with no one, of fake, masturbatory crushes over 
imaginary women. An eternity of tired, grinding mediocrity. But that 
was over that night, with your soul burning in the atmosphere like 


the loneliest of stars. | awakened. | died.