One of the men immediately popped the capsule into his mouth and 
dry-swallowed it before grabbing a clipboard. The other eleven men 
looked nervously at each other, then one said, "Uh, shouldn't we let 
them dissolve in our mouths or something before swallowing them?" 


There was a pause, then the intercom crackled again. "No, these 
are supposed to be activated by your stomach acid. Just swallow 
the things and fill out the forms, okay?" 


The remaining men hesitated, but followed instructions. As the last 
pill was swallowed, the first man jerked forward, clutching his 
stomach. 


An anonymous assistant research, safely ensconced 10 kilometers 
away, rested her hand near the intercom button. "Lord, | can't keep 
track sometimes. What was this testing, again?" 


Her coworker, not looking at her, typed notes into his workstation 
and replied, "Whether adding 447-2 to various poisons neutralizes 
them. Looks like it made them more effective instead." 


She sighed and entered a command into the computer. "Well, that 
was predictable. Turning on the camera filters now." 


A sourceless green glow suffused the room, faint at first but building 
to a blinding verdant glare. As it passed a certain threshold, the 
cameras in the room shut off. When they turned on again a few 
moments later, the now-fading light was still bright enough to make 


the observers blink as their eyes adjusted. Littered around the room 
were the now-lifeless bodies of a dozen former inmates. 


The woman turned from the monitor to her companion and said, 
"Well, that's another test done and logged. | really don't know why 
they have us keep doing this. It's the same thing every time." 


He shrugged as he typed up the preliminary report. "| dunno. So 
long as | keep getting paid and | don't get transferred to one of the 
more dangerous things, I'm cool with logging pointless experiments. 


He leaned forward and nodded at the monitor. "Look, right on time. 
Get ready to turn on the suppressant foam." 


One of the corpses started to smolder, faint wisps of smoke drifting 
from its exposed skin. One by one, each of the bodies followed suit, 
the skin blackening and collapsing to reveal greenish-black embers 
that flickered with small emerald flames. A series of clicks sounded 
as nozzles extended from the ceiling. 


The woman flipped a series of switches, then frowned as a pair of 
amber lights appeared amongst the field of green. "Aw crap, nozzles 
4 through 7 are clogged. | bet the cleanup crew last week didn't 
hose 'em out fully. Is there any way we can get a team in there early 
to clean 'em out?" 


Her coworker shook his head. "I don't think so. The doors are sealed 
until all levels inside are back to within normal limits. Those nozzles 
are over in the northwest corner, right?" He glanced from monitor to 
monitor. "I think all the corpses should be covered by the others. 
Just log it and let the cleanup crew get their asses in a sling. I'll tell 
‘em to make sure to clean those out good." 


He started typing up an email as she entered a brief addendum into 
the experiment log. Neither of them paid any more attention to the 
monitors while they worked. 


Eleven bodies were completely covered in a thick layer of purple 
foam. The twelfth was almost completely covered. An outstretched 
arm, flung to the side as the body had fallen, had resulted in a much 
thinner layer of foam that thinned as it extended up the limb. The 
very tip of the middle finger remained untouched. The flame on its 
fingernail grew stronger. 


Their respective typing done, the two assistant researchers leaned 
back in their chairs and looked back to the monitors, bored by the 
unchanging nature of their duties. Suddenly, the woman leaned 
forward to peer at one. 


"Wait. The D-class over by the wall... Shit! | think he's still clear! 
Look at his hand!" 


The man stared at the strengthening flame on the monitor, then 
popped open a clear plastic cover on his console and slapped a 
large red button. Klaxons immediately started sounding. 


"Containment breach in progress. Report to your 
assigned stations. This is not a drill. Containment 
breach in progress. Report to your..." 


The woman scrambled for the door to the hallway as growing flames 
flickered on the monitors. She didn't notice the back of her neck start 
painlessly smoldering where the verdant light from the monitors 
touched it. The man was rooted to his chair as his eyes reflected 
green. 


A lone figure stood in a peaceful field. A great sea of green and 
growing grass stretched in front of him, peaceful wave patterns 
flowing across their surface as the wind blew and bent the stalks. He 
turned and found a great forest behind him; the trunks of the trees 
dark and black, but the leaves fresh and vibrantly verdant. The sky 
looked overcast, but light suffused everything and he could clearly 
see everything. Every vein in every leaf, every crack of bark, even 
individual blades of grass on the horizon. 


Another person suddenly appeared, laying a few meters away along 
the treeline, then another standing in the grasses, and another 
perched on a branch above. All looked as confused as he felt. 


"Where am |?" he whispered as he rubbed his eyes with his hands, 
unbelieving what he was seeing. A fingernail on his left hand shone 
like sunlight through water. 


A loving voice surrounded him, echoing from above, below and all 
around him, composed of the rustles of wind and leaves and the 
grinding of stones. Despite its odd timbres of simultaneous power 
and gentleness, it resonated in him with a feeling of deep affection 
and tranquility. 


WELCOME HOME 


For Elise 


Elise was my only thought. | meant nothing but to have her. 


| started with one, one of me, alone in everything, nothing else 
entering my world but me and a ham radio set, airwaves singing my 
thoughts to me as they brought voices, friends from every corner of 
everywhere. 


It was my friend. Until | saw her. 


She was beautiful, a vision in a blue striped dress at the 
supermarket, buying milk and flour and sugar and butter and 
blueberries. | had bought a bag of apples and some Hot Pockets. 


| think she was making muffins. 


| tried to talk to her, | tried to say hello, but she just smiled and kept 
walking. She saw me, she looked me in the eye and smiled! 


| was ecstatic. | had been noticed. This gave me hope. 


| used to read, read books, manuals, scribblings on bathroom walls 
and sewer tunnels about time and space and holes and loops and 
exceptions to causality's restrictions. About nuclear munitions and 
tachyons singing the music of unreality at the tops of their lungs, 
which are metaphorical of course. 


But reading can sometimes lead to inspiration. 


As | read, | came back to the grocery store at the same time, same 
aisle, same bag of apples in my hand, waiting for her to make 
another batch of muffins, but she never came back, not once, so I'd 
nearly given up on seeing her again. 


And that was when | saw her. 


| hadn't had any clue where the courage came from, whether it was 


the song in my head or the smell of her shampoo or the bag of 
apples in my hand or the fact that | needed to make this decision 
quick because | needed to go to the bathroom, but | did it. | asked 
her to join me for coffee. 


We hit it off immediately. 


In my shed, | was building, building something groundbreaking and 
amazing. Something beautiful, something so complex it was a 
symphony of antennae, transistors, and resistors, a veritable 
orchestra of electrical parts. 


Along with some Caesium. 


| knew it would work, even though nobody said they could be 
reproduced. Nobody said anything about making them outside of an 
explosion, and even then, they were only born for a fleeting second 
and then died. They couldn't exist in this world, this plane so alien to 
their own. 


But they weren't motivated by what | was. 


She was happy when | asked her out a second time. We lost 
ourselves in conversation, forgetting the world, time becoming 
meaningless in the face of our fascination with each other. We ate 
little, talking through the night about the world, the future, the past, 
and the present. 


We would have all the time in the world. 


By the fourth date | had rigged an adaptor into the power substation 
near the radio antenna. I'd tell her to come with me to see the view, 
invite her out to watch the sunrise. She was from here, she knew 
how mind-boggling a sunrise over wheat fields looks. 


By the fifth, it was almost ready. 


By the sixth date, | told her to meet me at the radio mast at 5:00 AM. 
Things were in motion, | had set everything up according to plan. All 
that remained was for me to tell her the words I'd prepared. The 
words telling her | loved her more than life itself. The words she'd 
have forever to hear. 


Dr. Heiden: Experiment 641-1. | will attempt to 
disassemble SCP-641 and record at five-minute 
intervals. Guards are posted at the doors and | am 
unarmed, in case | become unmanageable. 


Dr. Heiden: Five minutes, three seconds. | have 
removed thirty-two layers. | am proceeding slowly 
specifically despite my urge to move rapidly. 


[time passes] 


Dr. Heiden: Nine minutes, fifty-nine seconds. Sixty-eight 
layers removed. The urge is growing stronger... | really 
want to see what's in the middle of this thing. 


[time passes] 


Dr. Heiden: Sixteen minutes, twenty-three seconds. 
Four hundred eighty-three layers removed. This is more 
fun than | gave it credit for at first. Wasn't paying 
attention to the stopwatch, I'll correct that for the next 
report at twenty minutes. 


[time passes] 
Guard: Doctor Heiden, don't you need to make a rep- 


Dr. Heiden: Shut up. Wait, shit. Uh... forty-five minutes, 
twenty-three seconds. Oh, man. Terminating experiment, 
| may be compromised by SCP-641. *sounds of a chair 
scuffling* Stevens, replace the object in its holding 
container, I'm going to Psych for an evaluation. 


(sounds of a chair scuffing the floor, then footsteps) 


Note: Dr. Heiden has demonstrated an aversion to contact with 
SCP-641 after the incident documented, and his psychological 
profile demonstrated no dangerous tendencies. After a month, he 
was placed back on duty as head of research for SCP-641. 


Addendum: The object is under no circumstances to be used for 
personal amusement or recreation. Any personnel seen improperly 


She showed up. 


The first thing | did, the last thing | did, and the only thing I'll ever do 
was kiss her, then hit the switch. Then the humming started, and 
stopped and started and stopped and started, never stopping. The 
door couldn't be opened. 


Then we kissed again, then | hit the switch. Then the humming 
started, and stopped and started and stopped and started, never 


stopping. 


We tried opening the door when we were done again. It wouldn't 
budge, it only flickered in the candlelight which came from 
everywhere and nowhere. 


Then we kissed again, then | hit the switch. Then the humming 
started, and stopped and started and stopped and started, never 


stopping. 


She screamed at me, that she hated me, that she didn't want to die 
in some shack waiting forever for the sunrise. 


Then we kissed again, then | hit the switch. Then the humming 
started, and stopped and started and stopped and started, never 


stopping. 


| told her it would be alright, that we'd get home somehow. We'd get 
home soon. 


Then we kissed again, then | hit the switch. Then the humming 
started, and stopped and started and stopped and started, never 


stopping. 


Tachyon emission was only possible in theory, they said. | built one 
in my garage. | picked up a way to make a moment last forever. And 
it's true. We have eternity, we can hold each other forever! 


We can attempt to undo our wrongs and start over every half hour. 
| have no idea how far out the tachyons have reached. 


But | know that my love and | are now together forever. 


Because | was there the day time died. 


Bugs 


Given a continuous vector field on the surface of a sphere, there 
must be at least one point on the field where the vector is equal to 
zero. 


Put another way, if you have a sphere which is covered in hair, it is 
impossible to comb all of it flat. There will always be those points 
where the hair converges and stands up. It happens a lot in 
computing. You know when you're playing a game, and you look 
really closely near the edges of one of the models, or in some place 
the developer tried to tuck away where you wouldn't notice it, and 
you see the texture kind of shrinks down to a point? It’s more or less 
the same principle. 


It doesn’t just happen in graphics either. Sometimes, when you try to 
implement a physics system, sometimes all of the numbers 
converge on the edge of the area you’re coding for. In version 1, that 
was at the poles of the sphere. | assumed no one would notice 
because there’s nothing of value at the poles (I did that on purpose) 
and they’re cold and desolate besides. 


They decided to check the poles anyway. It caused a big system 
crash, and not only did | have to reset everything, | soent weeks 
untangling the physics system to try and get rid of it. 


Failing that, | did the next best thing in version 2. | moved it. 
Tweaked it a little bit too, slapped a few repeating grass textures 
outside, and sewed the edges around it together so that there’s no 
way to get to it from the outside. 


Not that | didn’t have a little fun with it. | took a few things and played 
with them for a while, tried to see how the glitch affected them. | 
made a little glitch town, populated it with little glitch people, to see 
how they would cope. 


They didn't. 


Over time, the glitch became a little testing ground. Sometimes, 
before implementing something new, | drop it in there, see how well 
it holds up under the extreme physical conditions. Some of them 
don’t make it, but it’s a fairly hostile environment. | don’t blame them. 
I'll just put them out somewhere else, and see how they react under 
normal circumstances. Just a few weird things. Some gears. A 
moving statue. A giant lizard monster. 


| have a lot of fun with these guys, too. Sometimes they’ll wreck a 
few things I’d set up earlier, but the program seems pretty good at 
repairing itself. | usually have to override a few functions, but it’s 
definitely worth it, just to see how the rest reacts, having been 
thrown something it doesn’t understand. 


| don’t think anyone will notice. 


Flow Hub 


The window opens as the artist is greeted with a new world. 


Great waters race alongside their mind, flowing until erupting from 


their finger tips. 


It was no magic or miracle; through the simple act of creation, 


impossible was made reality. 


The artist leaves the window open, and dives in. 


Prequel 


Flow - Where things began. 
Torrent - And then there was flood. 


Anart Courses 


Professors of Anart - Two anartists and an extradimensional 
studio. 

Anart Lecture - Listen, this is not goddamn magic! 
Foundation Mandated Interlude - Three Foundation personnel 
sat at the table. 

Extracurricular Practice - Abandoned warehouses with some 
surprising colors. 

Seven New Characters Are Introduced - To become an artist, 
you have to be a noob first. 

Testing the Flow - Let's run some tests. 

Skyboy - Unlike sickness, devouring you from the inside. 
Bring It Back - Today, I'm going to teach you how to bring the 
Flow back. 

Foundation Mandated Interlude 2 - A day of Researcher 
Mendez. 


Supplement 


* Down the Silver River - Meeting a god. 

¢ What Dragons We Shall Be - Learning the truth. 

¢ Tum-Tum-Tum-TUM-Tum-Tum-Tum-TUM-TUM-TUM - A long 
time ago in Iran... 

* Conservation Of Momentum - When a Flow and Antiflow 
collide, both are annihilated, releasing energy. 


Quick Guide