I'll never understand the resistance to SRAs. Never. We 
have — we have this wonderful little device, this 
wonderful miracle that can reduce even the fiercest of 
anomalies to a purring kitten. Previously, the only 
bottleneck was their prohibitive production cost and 
maintenance requirements. But now? They're cheap, 
self-correcting, and a hundred times more potent. 


I've worked with them for decades. They've saved my life 
more times than | can count. If | asked for a show of 
hands right now, right here in this room — of how many 
of you have been saved by an SRA — I'd be shocked if | 
saw a single hand down. | really would. 


What happened to the SS Sommerfeld was terrible. My 
heart goes out to the victims. It really does. But our 
SRAs have been tested time and time again. We can 
account for everything — everything except human error. 


One voice of dissent came from Professor Sherman Sivori, a 
Foundation paraphysicist with a reputation for expressing skepticism 
toward SRAs: 


Alright, for starters, they don't have a "flawless" track 
record. That's a load of bupkis. They have a pretty spotty 
One, actually — at best. Half the time, we can't even tell if 
they failed. Because when they do, reality gets rewritten. 


SRAs treat all anomalies as morphogenic fields. They 
presume that these fields can be "corrected" — that the 
anomalous can be reverted to a 'non-anomalous' state. 
In short, SRAs presume anomalies fit into a larger 
system. A system we understand and can control. 


But what makes something anomalous? By its very 
definition, it's something that doesn't fit. Something you 
can't control. We think we've found a way to suppress 
the anomalous, but all we've really found is an anomaly 
that's strong enough to overcome other anomalies. 


The SRA is a tiger that we use to tame monsters. We 

think we've domesticated it. We think it's our pet. But a 
pet tiger is still a tiger. You can cage it, train it, teach it 
cute tricks — but it's still a tiger. It still has claws. It still 
has fangs. And we've surrounded ourselves with them. 


God help us all if they ever go feral. 
Addendum 3241.3: Loss and Recovery of the /RV Silent Spring 


On August 12, 2015, contact was lost with the /JRV Silent Spring. 
The vessel had been performing an oceanographic survey on behalf 
of Odo Island's fishing industry to determine the cause behind a 
recent and dramatic change in the behavior of Seriola 
quinqueracdiata (Japanese amberjack, or yellowtail). Initial attempts 
to locate the ship failed; its transponder was non-responsive or 
otherwise outside of effective transmission range. 


Three days later, Kansai International Airport intercepted a distress 
signal from the /RV Silent Spring's EPIRB. After several failed 
attempts to establish communication, Japanese authorities deployed 
the ERRV Koyo Maru to investigate. This effort was abandoned 
when an on-board radiometric sensor (installed in the wake of the 
2012 Fukushima Daiichi disaster) detected small but significant 


levels of ionizing radiation from the vessel. Japanese authorities 
then contacted the Foundation, who mobilized MTF Theta-5 ("The 
Bigger Boat") alongside Beta-7 ("Maz Hatters") to take the /RV 
Silent Spring into custody. 


Miguel Quifiones (the acting CO of MTF Beta-7 at the time) 
described his experience with the vessel during the 2018 inquest: 


So, when the JMSDF called us, we figured it was just 
Old Man Jenkins® up to no good. Happens a lot. Some 
freshly promoted bureaucrat panics, or tries to pass their 
disaster off on us. We've even had a few cases where 
someone tries to make a perfectly ordinary problem /ook 
anomalous. This one time, | heard a guy even — 


— right, sorry. Anyway, we were pretty sure we'd be 
finding a dead whale tangled up in a buoy or something. 
We still followed procedure, though. Complacency is 
what gets people killed. You learn that lesson on day 
one. Came at it upwind to minimize exposure. It's a good 
thing, too. The stink alone could have dropped us all. 


It definitely wasn't a whale. But it didn't look like a boat, 
either. It looked like... like a giant blob of rotting meat. A 
spongy, floating meat-slab. 


Snoopy’ picked up some static, but not a lot. We still 
took every precaution. We took a few extra ones, just to 
be sure. We didn't have any clue what we were looking 
at. We didn't even know there were, uh — people? — we 
didn't know there was, uh, anybody in there. We just 
hooked it up and hauled it away. Figured the lab-coats 
would sort it all out. 


The /RV Silent Spring was transported to a temporary provincial site 
for containment and evaluation. Researchers soon discovered it 
previously hosted a colony of over three hundred unidentified 
species of micro-organisms. Despite this microbiome's incredible 
complexity and interdependent functionality, a mass-extinction event 
had occurred prior to recovery. 


The vessel's exterior was sheathed in an expired colony of 
microscopic arthropods. Hollow calcium carbonate nodules extruded 
from the ship's surface at multiple points; endoscopic and 
sonographic surveys determined that they extended through the hull 
as part of a rudimentary respiratory system. Large internal cavities 
of elastic tissue could expand and contract to regulate air flow. 


Upon dissection, researchers discovered that the vessel's interior 
topography was connected by a complex vascular system of thin, 
flexible tubing responsible for the circulation of nutrients and 
expulsion of effluent. These tubes extended into the /RV Silent 
Spring's crew. Each crew member's central nervous system had 
been partially extricated and fused into a singular neural mass 
incorporated into the vascular system, which supplied the brain 
tissue with glucose and oxygen. The purpose or function of this 
congealed neural mass could not be determined. 


The module containing the /RV Silent Spring's EPIRB and VDR 
(Voyage Data Recorder) was found intact; the microbiome had failed 
to penetrate its exterior shell. However, repeated exposure to 
ionizing radiation had corrupted the device's internal memory, 
rendering it irrecoverable. 


While retracing the /RV Silent Spring's initial route, a Foundation- 
operated submarine (the SCPF Stravinsky) encountered a cargo 
vessel adrift two hundred kilometers west of Odo Island, Japan. The 
ship had no AIS (Automatic Identification System), did not respond 
to hails, and emitted significant levels of ionizing radiation. The 
SCPF Stravinsky launched a Panopticon-Class surveillance drone 
toward the vessel. Prior to an unexplained mechanical failure, digital 
imagery from the drone confirmed the ship's markings as a match 
for the SS Sommerfeld. 


Addendum 3241.4: Initial Response 


On October 26, SARC was assembled to assess the extent of the 
SS Sommerfela's threat and develop an effective containment 
strategy for its numerous anomalies. Bryan Browning, a veteran 
Foundation field agent and Site-97's former Site-Director, was 
assigned as the Containment Director. 


Close observation of the SS Sommerfeld was all but impossible on 
account of its unpredictable properties; surveillance drones sent into 
its area of effect experienced numerous mechanical failures. In 
order to acquire more data, Director Browning requisitioned several 
SRAs from DLS and ordered them mounted inside the SCPF 
Stravinsky. The submarine was to approach SCP-3241 under the 
cover of a morphogenic field and attempt to retrieve its VDR. 


Several members of the SCPF Stravinsky's crew refused Director 
Browning's orders. This group included the vessel's Executive 
Officer, Leslie Horton. She explained her decision in 2018: 


Browning painted us as a bunch of traitors attempting a 
coup, but anyone with one fucking iota of military 
experience will tell you there's a world of difference 
between "Open fire" and "Walk up to the enemy and 
tweak his nose while this magic box protects you". 
Besides, this wasn't a military operation. There was no 
immediate threat. We had every right to stop work over 
safety concerns. And that's precisely what we did. 


Professor Bakshi is the reason why, though. Bakshi had 
experience with SRAs — real experience — and he 
didn't trust them. He told Browning that his plan would 
put us at risk. When Browning told him to piss off, Bakshi 
came to us directly. He explained these things — the 
SRAs — he told us they were unreliable. Described it like 
trying to put out a fire with a flamethrower. Sometimes it 
works, and sometimes you just burn the whole goddamn 
neighborhood down. Convinced me, at least. 


Browning was furious. Kept ranting about how Bakshi 
didn't know the first thing about field work or paratech. 
He said that if Bakshi didn't have the stomach for this 
sort of thing, then he ought to, un — | think his exact 
words were ‘go apply for a job managing a 7-11’. Then 
he said some, uh, some other things that | won't, uh, 
repeat here. 


But in the end, Bakshi wouldn't back down. And neither 
would we. 


A compromise was reached on November 5. One SRA would be 
mounted to a USV (Unmanned Surface Vehicle) capable of 
sustaining its weight and supplying it with power. A representative 
from DLS arrived as an SRA consultant and to provide technical 
support. 


Shortly after entering SCP-3241's area of effect, the USV ceased to 
respond to remote commands. The vessel operated autonomously 
for two kilometers before experiencing a catastrophic mechanical 
failure and sinking along with the mounted SRA. As this was 
significantly farther than what previous drones had achieved, the 
DLS representative claimed that the SRA had worked; furthermore, 
he claimed that control over the drone had likely been lost on 
account of the SRA's morphogenic field not being wide enough to 
prevent anomalous disruptions of incoming radio transmissions. He 
concluded that a network of overlapping SRAs — combined with 
manual adjustments made by a licensed SRA operator — would be 
more than sufficient to overcome any of SCP-3241's anomalous 
effects. 


Director Browning agreed with this assessment. He again ordered 
the crew of the SCPF Stravinsky to mount SRAs into their vessel 
and proceed into SCP-3241's area of effect — with Professor Bakshi 
(the only licensed SRA operator present at the time) on-hand to 
make adjustments as required. Again, several members of SCPF 
Stravinsky's crew refused. 


Director Browning then ordered three of the five remaining SRAs to 
be mounted on the SCPF Beagle 3 (a small four-man patrol boat) 
and assembled a team to personally accompany him into 
SCP-3241's area of effect. When Professor Bakshi refused to 
accompany Director Browning, he asked the DLS representative to 
fill Professor Bakshi's role instead. 


In 2018, Professor Gambheer Bakshi gave the following testimony 
regarding Director Browning's request for the DLS representative to 
operate the SRA: 


Raymond Asakawa. The technician from DLS — that 
was his name. He was young. Very young. Very bright, 
too. | found out later that he was studying to be a 


computer scientist. He just worked this job to pay his 
tuition. 


| don't think he... no. | know he didn't intend to mislead 
anyone. He just trusted his training. He trusted the SRA 
manual. All his answers to Director Browning's questions 
came straight out of that manual. He must have 
memorized it. Director Browning ate it up. Patted the 
young man on the back, asked him all about Hume 
levels, Kant counters — questions he knew Mr. Asakawa 
could answer. Building up his confidence. Making him 
feel like an expert, like — like part of the team. 


Then, when Director Browning asked me to accompany 
him — he knew | would say no. He knew. He turned to 
Mr. Asakawa, and that's when | realized what was going 
on. Why he had been treating this young man so nicely. 
He was playing him. He turned to Asakawa, and he said 
— he asked if he could — he — 


— he asked him — asked him to — 
—, to Pamuern 
Shit. 


Shit. Sorry. I'm sorry. | don't usually — | need a moment. 
Just, um, just give me a moment. It's been a long time 
since I've talked about — shit. I'm sorry. 


Okay. 


Alright. Okay. I'm alright, now. Sorry. Sorry for the 
cussing. 


He looked so scared right then. Mr. Asakawa, | mean. | 
think he was starting to realize that there was a very real 
danger, here. But then, Browning said something — | 
don't even remember what. Something about how back 
in his day, they didn't have SRAs? How they could have 
saved so many lives back then. How important 


Asakawa's work was. Something like that. Then 
Asakawa smiled, and — 


— he was looking at me, before. When he was scared. 
He was looking straight at me. Me. Like he was 
expecting me to save him. And — | could have. | could 
have saved him. | could have said no. | could have said 
absolutely not. | could have pulled that boy off the boat 
and told that fat racist fuck to go fuck himself. 


But | didn't. 


| was so angry at him. Browning put his pride before all 
of our lives. | wanted him to be punished. He deserved to 
be punished. And that's why Raymond Asakawa is dead. 
He asked me to save him, and | didn't. Because | was 
angry. 


I'm not sorry that Browning is dead. Fuck him. He 
deserved worse. But | am sorry about Raymond 
Asakawa. A day doesn't go by that I'm not sorry about 
Raymond Asakawa. | let that happen. | let that young 
man die. It should have been me on that boat. I'm sorry. 


Fuck. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. 


Director Browning boarded the SCPF Beagle 3 with his team and 
approached SCP-3241. Out of the four team-members, only 
Jackson Voccola, a veteran containment specialist, survived: 


We were about half a kilometer in when | realized 
something was wrong. It was this low keening noise 
behind me — like something was off with the engines. | 
started thinking about what I'd do if they went belly-up. 
Couldn't risk swimming for it. Then | remembered the 
tow-line — they could reel us back. That relaxed me a 
little. 


But that sound just kept getting louder and louder. 
Something felt off about it. Too shrill. Not mechanical 
enough. | finally turned around, and, uh, yeah. Wasn't 


the engines. It was the kid. The one DLS sent us. 


He'd been screaming for a while, now. Wasn't hard to 
see why. What surprised me was that he could scream. 
Big chunks of him had turned into glass. You could see 
straight inside him — like somebody installed a bunch of 
windows all over his body. There was this web of veins 
that wove through his guts — like pink silk ribbons. 


When he moved, it made this horrible noise. Crackling 
and popping. Like somebody grinding their heel down 
into a sack of light-bulbs. The glass started splintering — 
jagged lines shot through him and bit into his innards. 
Blood trickled along the cracks, then dribbled out of him. 
Real slow. 


Sanchez had turned inside out. Didn't seem to mind. | 
think he even winked at me. And Browning, uh — I'm not 
positive, but it looked like his bones were evaporating. 
His body was collapsing into a heap of loose, folded skin. 
Like a pile of dirty laundry. This foul-smelling yellow 
smoke kept pouring out of all his holes. 


| think the engines croaked at some point? The last thing 
| remember was them hauling us back as fast as they 
could. That's when | passed out from the pain. When | 
woke up a few weeks later, they told me Sanchez and 
Browning were DOA. The kid took about twenty minutes 
to finally shatter and bleed out. As for me... got pretty 
lucky. Only lost three limbs and half my intestinal tract.