Serpents in pastels and duller colors slithered in two dimensions 
across the walls of the room, scales flexing in impossible detail. 
They crawled across what appeared to be the "ground" of the 
landscape, which changed from realistic to impressionistic to 
surrealistic to cubist on each of the surrounding four walls but kept a 
basic structure to it, though he couldn't tell what similarities he was 
seeing. Abd al-Rashid had never been a student of art, but just 
watching these serpents snaking, darting, nipping at each other, and 
finally joining at the base of an enormous tree that incorporated 
stylistic elements of all the art in the room, all the colors and cubes 
and lines meeting in some great Yggdrasil that sprawled across the 
ceiling, he was torn by the desire to collapse into tears from the 
beauty of it all and the desire to collapse into a fetal position to hide 
from the truth of how smal/ he was. 


"They are nearly grown now," a voice before him said. Abd al- 
Rashid was stunned back into the room itself and away from the 
scene on the walls. An impossibly tall man, seven, eight feet in 
height, but otherwise perfectly formed, stood before him. "The Lady 


Josephine recalls, | believe. You were here when they were 
younger, were you not?" 


"| was," Josephine said. "Some years ago. They were barely mobile, 
mostly just colors and shapeless forms. Will they take humanoid 
form?" 


"| believe so, though the decision will, as always, be theirs," the tall 
man replied. He walked to where Abd al-Rashid stood and bowed 
deeply, his head nearly reaching Abd al-Rashid's. His face remained 
tense as he said, "Malachi Tavana, gracious Majordomo and First 
Servant of Nuwaz Vizier Afseneh, himself master of the High Estate 
of the Most Esteemed House of Afseneh, Pearl of the Djinn, 
Guardians of the Sacred Spheres, Defenders of the Mortal Coil, at 
your service." 


Abd al-Rashid simply stood silently. Josephine said, "Malachi, how 
many of those are real and how many of those do you just make up 
on the spot?" 


Malachi's face remained serious. "| have never said before and | still 
refuse." 


"The part about the sacred spheres, though. | know you just made 
that up right then." 


"| may have. | may not have. A dedicated servant never tells." 


"Well, Gracious Majordomo, would you be kind enough to show us 
to quarters?" 


"Of course, Lady Josephine. You and your guest are always 
welcome." 


Abd al-Rashid found in the three days he spent as a guest that the 
splendor of the Estate of House Afseneh was innumerable. Volume 
after volume could be written to record the details of every room of 
every wing of the House, of which there are many. There may well 
be no way to count how many rooms were in the Estate, given their 
changing number. Regardless, Abd al-Rashid had finite time and 


saw a finite number of those rooms, but the wonders in that place 
seemed infinite. 


At the end of the second day in the House, Abd al-Rashid sat for 
dinner with the High Court of Afseneh. Nuwaz, the Vizier of the 
House, sat near what was clearly the head of the table. The chairs 
were equally beautiful, equally enormous (though more 
proportionately sized for some of the diners; the majordomo had 
been asked to join them and, towering over all others in the room, 
had little difficulty with the seating arrangement). It was clear that 
there was a symbolic equality in the room, with the Vizier serving as 
a "chief among equals". One seat at the headmost position was left 
vacant, food served but with nobody seeming to believe the seat's 
occupant would be joining them. 


"If | may be so forward, may | ask for whom the empty seat is left 
for?" Abd al-Rashid whispered to Malachi as the food was being 
served. 


"The head seat at the table is reserved for the proper Mistress of the 
House, the Queen of Afseneh. Sahrazad, her name is said in the 
proper Persian." 


Abd al-Rashid thought for a moment. "You mean...Scheherazade? 
Of the One Thousand and One Nights? A fictive princess is your 
queen?" 


"She is the greatest of the fictives," Malachi said, a touch of 
annoyance in his voice. "And moreover, a fictive capable of creating 
more fictions. From her, we have learned how to birth new fictions 
as well. Who better to be honored so?" 


Abd al-Rashid, abashed, nodded politely and continued to watch the 
food be distributed. It had all of the hallmarks of the decadent 
surroundings; enormous, glistening hogs brought whole to the table, 
platters and plates seemingly unable to continue supporting the 
weight of the feast atop them. Among this was brought two plates of 
equal elegance, but carrying only some pieces of nan-e khoshke- 
shirin and a bowl of — certainly perfectly crafted — ash-e anar, the 
pomegranate stew glistening before him. He was about to question 
the difference between his and Josephine's plates, when he 


suddenly had a revelation. Oh, of course, he thought, they needed 
to serve real, physical food for their corporeal guests. The rest of 
this is all but imaginary. Though the dedication to detail in the 
olfactory department was...thorough. Abd al-Rashid drooled at the 
smell of it all. 


The meal was generally as he expected it to be, polite enough 
where the humans were concerned, much more jovial where the 
djinn were concerned. Much laughter and uproar came from their 
end of the table, with polite smiles and nods from Abd al-Rashid, 
who understood little of the cultural context for what they were 
saying, and Josephine, who was unable to use telepathy to read the 
minds of sentient concept-beings and didn't speak any of these 
languages being used. 


"So, darling,” Vizier Afseneh said (Abd al-Rashid presuming and 
hoping) in Josephine's direction, "what did you think of the children 
in the atrium?" His Arabic was crisp and lightly accented, if at all. 
Malachi translated into English. 


"Very well developed. Beautiful, even," Josephine replied through 
Malachi. "I don't believe | had ever seen djinn children in such a... 
larval state." 


"Wait, I'm sorry," Abd al-Rashid interrupted. "The...those serpents in 
the reception area, those were...those were djinn?" 


Silence, then a soft, deep chuckle from the vizier. "Son, if | may ask, 
where do you think you are? Physically, geographically, your 
position?" 


Abd al-Rashid gulped. "Well, from the rumors, | would presume that 
we are underground somewhere. The exact location is a closely 
guarded secret; the House is reached only through mystical 
gateways of some kind, whose function and operation are also 
secrets. All the other djinn Houses are likewise; the Nabhanites in 
Oman, the Roxelanans in Turkey. | once met a Khotani djinn —" 


More chortling from the vizier. "Oh, yes, that must have been quite 
the experience." 


Abd al-Rashid smiled, the least uncomfortable feeling he had had all 
evening. "Yes. He invited me to his nightly meditation after evening 
prayer. | hadn't realized he was looking for a sparring partner, or that 
Khotani 'meditations' can end in death." 


The Vizier's chortles turned into guffaws. "They are rather...intense 
people, yes. Living in caves in the Tibetan mountains will do that to 
man and qjinn alike. 


"As for my question, however, it is difficult for you to perceive what 
this Estate actually is. We ajinn, the ones to whom you speak, are 
sentient, sapient ideas, formed through acts of personal volition into 
humanoid creatures when we find it convenient, taking...other forms 
when we wish to do so as well. The Estate in which you are sitting, 
as well as all of the furniture in it, is made likewise of djinn. Immature 
djinn, formed through an act indescribable to corporeal beings, 
taking shapes at the will of their... parents, if you will. The beings will 
become more complex as time goes on, changing forms and 
shapes, developing a greater understanding of how to cope with the 
universe around them. The chair in which you sit is a three-year-old; 
the rug now bunched up in the legs of the chair and table is two; the 
floor that both are stationed upon is four weeks old. They are 
capable of great feats at a young age, but must learn to harness and 
control it before they can join us." 


Abd al-Rashid was stunned. Everything in the Estate was 
simultaneously now both majestic and...rather disturbing, honestly. 
Everything alive, everything with the potential for intelligence and 
self-awareness? He was ready to be horrified when he felt the 
vizier's hand on his shoulder. He looked down at Abd al-Rashid with 
concern. 


"Child, let me stop you for a moment. | know that Parviz sent you 
here to apologize for what you said to Agent Faruhar. | will not claim 
to be thrilled with it. But | am a strong believer in the freedom of 
individuals to feel and act as they see fit, even in ignorance. And 
your behavior was ignorant, there can be no doubt. | hope you find 
Agent Faruhar in your journeys, and | hope that by that time, you will 
have learned better ways, or at least better restraint. But | will not 
have an apology from a young man who has not offended me, and 
you have not offended me." 


Abd al-Rashid looked up into that face, twinkling and clearly 
possessing an ancient nature that the vizier either could not or 
chose not to hide. "Thank you, lord," he said. "I hope to do better. | 
hope...| hope to be better. | do regret my words." 


The vizier's face lit up again. "This is the best | could have hoped for 
you, child. Are you finished with the stew? | hoped it was to your 
liking; | had it brought from a Way leading back to Iran." He picked 
Abd al-Rashid up and guided/pushed/forced him to the end of the 
room nearest the hallway, a confused Josephine following. "| would 
have chosen a Turkish delicacy, but | didn't think your lovely escort 
here would have been much fond of it. No offense to your cuisines, 
of course; | simply meant that something a bit..." 


They left the room on yet another tour. 


Comedown Machine Hub 


Third Law Hub » Comedown Machine Hub 


Prologue: A Confluence of Clandestine Conferences 


* 1. Slow Animals 
¢ 2. Automatic Stop 
¢ 3. The End Has No End 


Intermission: Error: Level 4 Clearance required to access file 
"OPERATION DAWNHALTER" 


¢ 4. DATA ENCRYPTED: 
¢ 5. DATA ENCRYPTED: 
¢ 6. DATA ENCRYPTED: 


Epilogue: Error: Encryption failed. Seek technical assistance 
immediately. 


the thigh, and red wine or juices into human blood. This can vary 
between subjects, and the process as to how a change is 
determined is still under investigation. 


Because most of the plates are not large enough in diameter and 
circumference to create the entire form, most pieces manifest as 
human infant parts; chicken wings as tiny burnt infant arms, chicken 
breasts as filleted infant pectoral muscle or tissue from the buttocks, 
and so forth. However, tissues from adults do appear occasionally, 
often when the meat is placed vertically, sticking into the air. Based 
on analysis on the captured videos and logs, this is how longer, 
more mature parts were designed, although the plate's products 
seem only to be able to project beyond the surface straight up ata 
limit of one meter (around 3 feet). 


Vegetable and non animal matter can be affected, however this is 
often “selective”, and will only affect the “main dish”. This means 
prepared meat will retain the herbs, spices, topping, sauces, and 
garnishes as it is transformed into human flesh. More than one piece 
of meat can be placed on SCP-604, but the results are varied; either 
creating separate pieces, incorporating them all together into one 
body system based on similarities in appearance (eggs and thin 
slices of beef turning into a female reproductive system, a pile of pig 
intestines and a cow stomach melding together to form a human 
digestive system), or choosing one to “focus” on, and leaving all the 
others untouched (duck stuffed with Kobe beef becoming an infant 
torso stuffed with Kobe beef). 


The other unique ability that SCP-604 possesses is any living 
creature placed on its surface or submerged inside liquid contained 
within a goblet will metamorphose into a moving human body part. It 
will be capable of kinetic activity, such as flexing, as in the case of a 
starfish that turned into a six-fingered baby's hand that opened and 
closed, and grasped at touch, or locomotion, no matter how 
awkward and slow it is. Severed areas do not bleed, and tendons 
and muscles still function in normal ways, regardless of damage. 


Tissues will move by whatever means is available, such as inching 
and crawling forward by curling and extending their "body", as the 
moving finger with an extremely long nail generated from a lobster 
did, or the floating penis in a large goblet did to "swim"; its tip jerking 


A Confluence of Clandestine Conferences 


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| observed a noticeable uptick in events this week. So noticeable 
that | thought it too reckless to not report in early. 


There were four events. All involved two people or fewer, but | 
couldn't catch any names. 


The first was on Monday. It was early in the morning, before sunrise, 
and | was stationed on the corner of Grand and Multnomah. An 
older man in a suit came walking down the street from the West, and 
he stopped near me. 


| was very still, and my act was working, and | don't think he noticed 
that | was a person. He took out his phone, and | caught a glance 


over his shoulder of what he was typing. | could pick out "can't be 
the Foundation", and Foundation was capitalized. Do we know of a 
Foundation? 


The man had a gun on his belt, but | don't think he was a police 
officer. He didn't stay long. 


The second event was Wednesday night. | was down Broadway 
street, by the veterinarian. Two men walked by, and they were 
arguing. | froze up, kept my pose, | don't think they noticed. 


The taller one was saying that they couldn't do what they were 
doing, that they were going to end up caught, and then they wouldn't 
even get to remember what they did so wrong. 


The smaller man shushed him. Said no, the plan will work, and the 
reward will be worth it. Portlands will remember us well. And he said 
Portlands, specifically, plural. Is that significant? But they were gone 
before | could hear anything else. 


The remaining two encounters were on Friday. The first was in the 
early evening, when it was just dark enough for my act to be most 
effective. | was by the big parking lot on Halsey. A group of two, a 
woman and a large person in a suit. The woman sat down on a 
bench, not ten paces from me. 


She sounded angry. "I just don't see why we're still going through 
with this," she said. "I've done my part for our partnership, and | 
know he must be happy." Emphasis on "he". "We're in such a 
fucking rut now," she said. 


The other person didn't reply. Out of the corner of my eye | peeked 
at them, and they didn't have any eyes behind their sunglasses. Just 
empty sockets. Unusual. 


"Fine," she said. "Let's just get out of here." She pushed herself to 
her feet and stomped off, the suited person following behind. 


Later that night, | was waiting for a bus to take me home, right 
across the intersection from the Taco Bell. | was still wearing my 
makeup, but | wasn't trying to hide. 


The exact Same woman came up next to me and started waiting. 
She wasn't attentive, she was trying to light up a cigarette. | offered 
a greeting, and she yelped, dropping the smoke. She muttered 
some obscenity and turned to leave. 


| watched her go across the street, into the parking lot of that 
Chipotle. When | was sure she had stopped watching behind her, | 
followed.