<Agent Navarro glares at Director Moose. After a moment, Navarro 
picks up the knife, and, with a dramatic gesture, slices across his left 
palm. A burst of iridescent fire blazes up from the wound. Navarro 
holds up the fire in his hand. It whirls and twists in the dimmed 
room.> 


"Agent Navarro was born a Type Blue. He discovered his talent 
when he tried smoking as a child and got an... unusual result. He 
discovered the blood magic aspect of his talent through resources in 
the Wanderers’ Library. 


<Navarro conjures more bubbling bursts of iridescent fire, and 
begins juggling. A few people cheer in the audience.> 


"Alright, that's enough, Navarro, you're getting blood everywhere. Sit 
back down. Someone get him a bandage. 


"Go ahead, you in the back. 


"Ah yes. | mentioned magic traditions. I'm actually quoting a Dr. 
Everett Mann, here, who's done some interesting thaumotology 
studies for us: Magic is magic. The Coalition are generally taught the 
same basic framework for magic, stuff like hue and backlash and all 
that. The Hand tend to be less consistent, go more into really 
esoteric stuff. 


"There are many, many traditions, and almost no universals. Unless 
you're talking rituals and such which are made to work for anyone, 
Potential is different for different kinds of magic. One Old European 
pagan tradition may work for you, and another originating from less 
than fifty miles away may not. And people like Agent Navarro don't 
even have a "tradition" in any real sense, just "some stuff that 
works". 


"| mentioned Navarro was born a Type Blue. | was not born a Type 
Blue. | became a magician another way. 


"| was talking about Potential, right? Well, to do anything serious, 
you can't get by on temporary Potential. It has to be permanent. And 
that means you become a Type Blue. 


"Let's be clear, here — that means you become an anomalous 
humanoid, even if it's in a way that's nearly invisible. Agent Navarro 
and |? Anomalous humanoids. You might say, well, if we never 
performed magic again, we'd be indistinguishable from normal, too, 
right? Well, no. Beyond our... anomalous capability, there's a type of 
anomalous radiation associated with being a mage. The GOC have 
scanners that can visually read this — so do we, actually, though we 
don't usually use them in the field. The GOC color-code this type of 
radiation blue. Hence, Type Blue. 


"So how do you become a Type Blue? 
"You have to shift your perspective on the world. 


"You know that Center we mentioned? The GOC-protected magic 
school? They have a standing 50 million prize for anyone who can 
identify a reliable, universal, standardized process for becoming a 


Type Blue. No one will ever win it because you can't just make 
people reliably, universally shift their perspective on the world. 


"Almost everyone in the world is capable of doing it — but almost 
everyone in the world is capable of cutting off their left hand. How 
many people are actually going to do that? Especially if it might not 
even do anything for you, because little did you know you needed to 
lose an eye? 


"Becoming a mage isn't always as awful as that... but for some 
people, it's worse. 


"There are three major avenues to becoming a mage. Some of them 
are acceptable to members of Sigma-3. Most are not. | hope that 
which is which will be obvious. 


"Let's start with the easy way. 


"This is to just hang out around magic. Simple exposure. People 
with high Potential, or outright Type Blues. Wearing magical jewelry. 
Creating minor Workings. Becoming a member of a magically- 
inclined organization, or a cult of some eldritch deity. 


"A big thing is spending time in a magic-saturated environment, like 
the Wanderers’ Library — or Sigma-3's training facilities, with 
Sigma-3 members who are Type Blues. This is one principle of 
magic, beyond the scope of what we have time for today: like affects 
like, and like produces like, too. 


"Do this long enough, and if you're lucky, you'll become a Type Blue. 
Many people aren't lucky. 


"The second way, done alongside the first way, is to forcibly, 
drastically, change who you are as a person. Move countries. 
Change religions. Re-address your sexuality, see if you can find 
some suppressed aspects. Alter your mind directly with anything 
from spells to amnestics. Scarification and tattoos are common. 
Give birth to a child, raise the child. Yes, even becoming a parent 
changes your Potential and the nature of who you are. 


"Either way, the idea is to give something up. Sacrifice, as | said. It's 


simplest to give up 'who you are’. Often this is the most appealing 
option, more appealing than it might sound. After all, you might end 
up a better person, when all is said and done, and a better person 
who can perform magic. 


"For the desperate, this method includes making a bargain with a 
powerful anomalous entity. However, even in the anomalous 
community, this is rarer than you might think, because most of these 
entities are predatory. Many will take everything a person values 
and give little to nothing in return. 


"But there is no real limit to what you can give up. These are 
dangerous waters. One may sacrifice body parts, loved ones, pieces 
of their life, their future... and in some cases, that's even worked out 
in the magician's favor. Well, not for sacrificing loved ones. | hope | 
don't need to tell you all that sacrificing loved ones for magical 
power is never worth it, not even in practical terms. 


"The third and final way is to change the world, or wait for the world 
to change. 


"Of all of these avenues of gaining supernatural power, this runs the 
most counter to the goals of the SCP Foundation. Yes, even more 
so than sacrificing loved ones. We want to preserve normalcy. The 
world can certainly change on its own terms, but the Foundation 
doesn't want the world to be forced to change by anomalous means. 


"The Serpent's Hand does want to change the world. And to some 
extent, though you won't hear most of us in the Foundation admit 
this, they've succeeded. While we don't have exact numbers, we 
know for a fact that there are more Type Blues today than there 
were fifty years ago. More than there were ten years ago. At least 
some of this can be attributed to the recent swelling in the ranks of 
the Hand. 


"The Chaos Insurgency also understands this. This is why they wish 
to change the world, to their liking — that's why they're called the 
Chaos Insurgency. It's not just a cartoon supervillain name. | mean, 
it is that, but it's also a statement of purpose. 


"Sigma-3 only works with factions of the Hand who do not want the 


world to change, at least not to the extent that the Insurgency does. 
They may want more Type Blues in the world than we do — they 
may want to eventually break the Masquerade — and we don't want 
that, and we can't and won't help them with that, but they still want 
the world intact. Like we do. 


"There are a lot of dangerous things out there, some of them people, 
some of them far beyond people, who have immense motivation to 
change our world for their own benefit. 


"They're the worst of the things out there who want to drag us all 
back into the dark. In most cases they aren't even evil. They just 
want to rearrange the anthills to make themselves the new queen. 


"Hopefully now you understand why a little better — this is the only 
thing we can understand about some of those... things, because 
they're unknowable in every other way. 


"There's another side to all of this. The ultimate reason why all this 
Type Blue stuff has to be kept secret, and why we in the Foundation 
can't just become a cult of magicians. 


"If the entire Foundation embraced magic — if every researcher or 
MTF agent took advantage of the power, the real, significant power 
that magic has to offer — if everyone outside of Sigma-3 all became 
Type Blues like me — then our perspective on the world would 
change. And if that happened, we might not be able to hold back 
dangers to reality any longer. 


"Everyone at the Foundation, at a sufficiently high level, spends their 
time around anomalies. We contain them, and honestly very 
effectively even with the odds so strongly against us, with science 
and concrete. The vast majority of our containment procedures — 
with exceptions made only when strictly necessary — are non- 
anomalous in nature. You could say that we believe in science and 
concrete. 


"Can you imagine what would happen if we stopped believing? If we 
changed the way we saw the world? If everyone at the Foundation 
became mystics? 


"It could be the end of containment, forever. The end of the 
Foundation's preservation of normalcy. And then we'd all be at the 
mercy of all the horrible things out there, the old gods and demons 
that would ensure humanity does nothing but huddle in caves 
around campfires and scratch on the walls, forever. 


"Your mileage may vary on whether this is true. But let me be clear: 
your mileage is only allowed to vary within the specific context of 
Sigma-3. | say Sigma-3 because everyone else here already knows 
this. No one else in the Foundation is to be exposed to this 
perspective, or they might not be able to contain threats to our 
reality. 


"This is also why most members of the Foundation don't even know 
magic is real. Sounds small. But it starts small. Say, a researcher 
fantasizes about casting Wingardium Leviosa, or an agent with an 
unfortunate romantic streak. And it ends with being unable to believe 
that Cthulhu can be contained behind sheets of steel and walls of 
stone. 


"But it's not my job or your job to keep Cthulhu's containment from 
failing. That's the job of the rest of the Foundation. Your job is to do 
things the rest of the Foundation can't. Your job is to find out what 
everyone else knows about Cthulhu that we don't. 


"We share their perspective. Something no one else in the 
Foundation can risk. 


"In this way, we preserve the world, and serve the primary mission 
of the SCP Foundation, in a way no one else can. 


"Any final questions? Okay. That's a lot of hands. I'll take just one for 
now. 


"Ah, yes. You're right. | didn't tell you how | became a Type Blue. 


"Well, I'm not going to go into detail. Let's just say, | took the second 
way. | made... sacrifices. Major sacrifices. Among other things, | 
deliberately did things to my own mind that | absolutely do not 
recommend. 


"Many of my friends did similar things — some did worse — and 
failed. Some did not survive the experience. And I... | will never get 
back some of the things | gave up. 


"Such is magic. Such is the anomalous world. 
"But, even now, | can still do... something like... this... 


<Director Moose takes out a small object and places it on her 
lectern. A small, carved moose figurine. She leans over, and 
whispers to it.> 


<There is a gust of wind, coming from nowhere in the indoor hall, 
and a massive black, cloudy figure towers over the audience — the 
shape of a demonic moose, with antlers stretching across the 
ceiling, and many eyes, shining like coals from within the roiling 
mass. Someone screams.> 


<The moose resolves into a cartoon of a frowning face with antlers, 
ruining the intimidating effect, then shifts and dissipates into 
smoke.> 


<Director Moose leans against her lectern, looking strained. The 
moose figurine is gone. After a moment, she smiles.> 


"Now you know how | became director of Site-19. 
"...A joke. Just a little... joke. 

"Right. 

<clears throat> 


"... That's enough for today. I'll take questions after an hour's break, 
from anyone who sticks around. Thank you all for coming, and... 
see you on the other side." 


[Questions will eventually be answered here from the discussion 
page! But not quite yet.] 


wristwatch 


Standard issue pisto|} 3 days 
of security guard C 


Computer keyboard, 6 days 


measures 1.5 by 1 by 
0.5 cm. Upper half of 
the SCP-658 is 
occupied by a mass of 
clock hands jutting out 
in all directions. 
SCP-658 walks 
ceaselessly in a circle, 
the radius of which 
increases with time 
(currently 1056 
metres). It attempts to 
climb or damage any 
obstacles in its path, 
and resists any third 
party that tries to 
change its course. 
Resultant SCP-658 
measured 10 by 4 by 
5 cm. Immediately 
upon emergence, 
object fired at 
researchers (injuring 
Dr.L andDr.B =) 
and fragile objects in 
vicinity. SCP-658 was 
capable of firing 
ceaselessly for 
approx. one minute, 
then took approx. two 
minutes to replenish 
its ammunition 
through unknown 
means. Destroyed. 
Resultant SCP-658 
measures 31 by 9 by 
1 cm. Object has an 
assemblage of keys 
with letters and 
numbers as its upper 


Green Thumb Hub 


Green Thumbs 


LMTF-237 Teth "Green Thumbs" is a local mobile task force 
centered in Pinellas County, Florida, and works out of Regional 
Headquarters 237 in Tampa, Florida, and Field Office-237 Teth in 
Clearwater, Florida. They cover Pinellas, Hillsborough, Pasco, 
Manatee, Polk, and Hardee counties. They are currently led by 
Doctor Jonathan Hart, a former organic chemistry professor at the 
University of Tampa. 


Related Tales: 


* Shellfish for Breakfast 
¢ Banana Smoothie 

« Just Like Me 

* Canola Oil Panic 

* TBA 


Related SCPs: 


* TBA 


Shellfish For Breakfast 


The biologists observed as the former canine spewed its guts from 
its new thoracic orifice. It used them like a clam's foot to drag itself 
across the linoleum floor. Nathaniel's expression was one of 
intrigued confusion and mango. 


He wiped the yogurt off of his upper lip. 


"So..." one biologist began, considering his limited ability to believe 
what he was seeing. "You found this in your backyard?" 


"Mmn," one of his peers intoned, shaking his head. "| mean, it backs 
up onto Lake Tarpon. If that's... goddamn, look at it." The attention 
all turned back into the clear window of the dissection theater. The 
group had cleared it of equipment for the observation. Its stomach, 
and partial degrees of its intestinal mass, flopped out again. With it, 
the organism dragged the mass of the former canine towards the 
wall opposite. "Is it... what, some sort of bastardized clam?" 


Nathaniel hummed and nodded, rapping his knuckles on the 
observation window. "| guess. What in the fuck, though?" He 
dragged his fingers through his oiled, brown hair, pacing along the 
length of the hall. "Do you even have a dog?" he asked, glancing at 
the one who had brought it in. The peer nodded towards the dog, 
claiming it as his, leaving Nathan to groan in dismay. "What do we 
make of this? Your dog is a goddamn clam, using its digestive 
system as a fucking foot." Papers shuffled as he grabbed at the 
packet again from the side-table that had been taken from the 
theater. He flipped through the week's report from the 
environmentalists. For the fifth time now, he found nothing of note, 
especially not of this caliber. The papers scattered back onto the 
table. 


"So, what? Do we call Bay News 9 or some shit?" 


Nathan held up a hand. "No, no. We don't even know what this is. 


For all we know, there's a gas leak, and we're all high off our asses." 
The man was struggling to make sense of the situation, resorting to 
even the least likely of cases. Even if it were a gas leak, the chances 
of them all hallucinating the same thing were astronomically low. 
"We figure out what it is, | guess. We document it. We put it out to 
the other counties, see what they make of it."