Tears came to her eyes as she turned to face the old man. "Why am 
lin here with you, anyway? | never asked for this, | never went 
around pretending to be a fucking bearded man in the sky!" Her 
words started to come in short bursts as she fought back sobs. "| 
never did anything to anyone! | even helped them with that psycho 
with the tattoos! Less than human? Fuck you!" 


Thompson sank in her chair, her thin frame heaving with each 
breath as she succumbed unwillingly to the last four years. She 
buried her face in her hands, ashamed and once again unable to 
control the situation. "I'm not like the rest of you," she said through 
sobs. "| can choose to not be some freak show. | can choose to be 
more than that." 


Dale pulled himself up to his full height. "More or less, depends on 
the direction from which you are considered." 


The old man frowned. "You should know that when the staff come 
and talk to me, half of what they talk to me about is you. Your 


presence here has inspired a need for forgiveness that even hard 
people like the Foundation require. Absolution, of course, is one of 
my more popular magic tricks. My chats have, in turn, enabled this 
Site to keep carrying out its functions. Including those related to 
you." 


Thompson stammered. "Wh...what?" 


"In carrying out its mission, Site-17 also carries out my mission. 
Though | think those two things are going to diverge quite soon." 


"What mission? What mission is worth this?" Thompson spat out, 
still futilely fighting back the tears. 


"Due to what you are, there was little danger of you fully 
accomplishing what you set out to do. But you've managed to really 
hurt yourself this time. You've triggered something. What you have 
done is set events in motion far more than a single death could have 
accomplished. You, the Foundation, and even I, we are all about to 
be freed from the illusion of control that shackles each and every-" 


A beeping sound came from the old man's wrist. He checked his 
Casio digital watch. "Ah, my manners. They have fled me. Time's 


up!" 
With that, he snapped his fingers. 


In an instant, Thompson was in a hospital bed. The sensation of 
tubes running down from her nose and mouth into her chest greeted 
her. Hastily, she clawed at the apparatus on her face, pulling the 
tubes out of her airway for what felt like ten meters. Her heart raced, 
and she noticed the IV lines in her wrist. Her stomach throbbed with 
dull pain. As she looked around, she recognized the secure medical 
bay. Shock was followed by profound disappointment. A lock across 
the room disengaged, and the servo arms of the reinforced doors 
whined to life, announcing the arrival of Dr. Lin. 


The doctor was flanked by a weary nurse and Security Director 
Burton; Thompson recognized the director from the Pandora's Box 
support staff. More than the nurse, Burton looked haggard and 


careworn. His eyes were bloodshot. All three strode briskly to her 
bed. 


"She regained consciousness a minute or two ago," the nurse 
hurriedly explained to Dr. Whitman. 


As the nurse said this, Thompson suddenly had a vision of herself 
surrounded by medical staff, monitors and equipment everywhere. 
Someone was yelling in the background. All vision in her left eye 
suddenly ceased. She was temporarily stupefied. 


Dr. Lin approached her, his furrowed brow the only disturbance on 
his bespectacled, dispassionate face. "Looks like your procedures 
need another update, Burton." 


The Security Director winced. He looked at Thompson, head hung 
low on his massive frame. "You okay, kid?" 


Thompson looked Burton in the eyes. Blurry light began filtering 
back in to her left eye. 


"No." Her voice creaked through her throat, raspy like a woman 
several decades older. 


Dr. Lin turned to the nurse. "Let's get some diazepam going and 
station a couple of security personnel on watch for the time being. 
We'll do an examination at 1520 hours." 


With that, the doctor and the nurse resumed their duties elsewhere. 
Burton lingered. He looked as though he was going to speak several 
times, but stopped each time. 


Thompson adjusted herself in her bed to position her head higher. 
Sitting up was too difficult. "Why this time?" she wheezed. 


Burton sighed. "Three-four-three said | should come see you. Said 
that it wasn't doing anyone any good to keep ignoring these." 


She managed a weak, derisive laugh. "How kind of you." 


He blanched. "There's all kinds of stuff | should have said earlier. | 
don't know how to Say it now. But three-four-three told me to pass 


figuring out how to make the word encode the 
meaning in and of itself. And if you can do that, 
then you can encode a lot more stuff into it. 
Stuff like making the brain want to use it as a 
curse word exclusively. The breakthrough was 
[DATA REDACTED BY ORDER OF 
DEPARTMENT OF MEMETICS] and so once | 
had the actual, uh, software, | just needed to 
wrap it up in an actual word and give ita 
meaning. | also encoded my name in it. You 
know, as a watermark. 


Dr. Pichai: Speaking of languages, we've 
noticed that people who don't speak or 
understand English are unaffected by the 
word. Why is that? 


Ramesh: So, going back to the computer 
analogy, right, you know what a programming 
language is? This is basically the same thing. 
[EXPLETIVE REDACTED] is a program 
written in English, so your brain needs to be 
able to run English to run it. 


Dr. Pichai: So why did you pick [EXPLETIVE 
REDACTED] specifically? Why that meaning 
in particular? 


Ramesh: | mean... I'm looking for a job. 
Programming the human brain is cool but you 
know what the economy's been like. | thought 
the military or the government would be pretty 
interested in this kind of thing, yeah? 
[EXPLETIVE REDACTED] is a proof of 
concept. It's pretty harmless and even helpful - 
it stops people from using actually harmful 
swears and like, racial slurs. But if you can do 
that, you could do stuff like, perhaps, 
hypnotize terrorists and stuff. Like, actually 
hypnotize them. So | was trying to get the 
government's attention. Show them that | can 


something along.” 
"Did he?" she replied, thick with sarcasm. 


Burton hesitated, doubt darkening his expression. "He said...he said 
to tell you, ‘Sector 3 is lost, abort procedures.’ | don't know why." 


Thompson's eyes widened at the words. Suddenly, Burton looked 
fifteen years younger, but bruised and scraped up. She perceived 
terror, not her own, but a detached notion of impending demise, 
somewhere on the edges of her consciousness. Fluorescent lights 
flickered on in her vision, superimposed onto the scene of the 
medical bay. Three vertically aligned cables, taut with some heavy 
load attached at the end, vibrated, in time with what felt like heavy 
footsteps. A black shaft yawned impossibly deep below. She felt her 
left side start to seize up, the muscles in her limbs contracting 
painfully. Burton looked on in horror. A new realization dawned on 
her. 


"What are you keeping in Basement 17-E?" she pleaded. "What do 
you guys have down there?" 


The Security Director recoiled from her, the blood drained 
completely from his face in an instant. Wordlessly, they stared at 
each other for what felt like minutes. 


Suddenly, the sound of klaxons blared across the PA system. 
Burton took several steps back, vainly attempting to process what 
just happened before picking up his handheld and barking some 
unintelligible commands into it. A voice filtered down through the 
speakers in the ceiling. 


"Attention all personnel. Security Protocol A is being engaged. 
Repeat. Security Protocol A is being engaged. All staff report to 
emergency stations and await further instructions. Level K 
containment breach event underway. Repeat. Level K containment 
breach underway. Over." 


Burton ran out of the room. She heard the sounds of steel security 
barriers slamming into place several halls away. Somewhere, out in 
the din of the increasing chaos outside her door, she thought she 


heard an old man, softly chuckling. 


« Strangers of Site-17: 105 | Strangers of Site-17: Hayakawa » 


Stray 


It was the prettiest cat Sarah had ever seen in her whole life. 


She didn't know the word "calico," because eight-year-olds typically 
don't. It was brown and tan and orange and its eyes were the 
brightest, brightest gold you've ever seen, Sarah would say, or 
something to that effect. And it was looking right at her. 


Sarah assumed it was one of the "river cats," as she heard her 
parents calling them; a random group of strays living in and around 
the little creek that snaked through their town. The creek ran through 
patches of woods, reemerged periodically near houses (like 
Sarah's), and continued on to...somewhere. Sarah had never seen 
the source of it, but it was a perfect place for cats to live and hide 
from people for safety. Various neighbors gave them food, but Sarah 
hadn't had the chance to do so yet. Her friends would be soo000000 
jealous. 


Her parents were home and likely wouldn't approve of her feeding 
stray cats, but they had some food in the house that she could put 
out later that night. She hoped this cat would be the one to come 
around. 


Persephone. She would call this cat Persephone, even if it were a 
boy. He'd be okay with it. 


Sarah waited until she heard her parents close the door to their 
bedroom. She had learned how to sneak down the stairs without 
making any noise months ago, so she didn't need to wait any longer 
than that. Sarah grabbed a can of tuna out of the pantry and carried 
it to the counter. Yuck, she thought as she wrenched the manual 
can opener around the can's edge, but she knew that cats liked the 
smelly stuff. She opened the back door silently and walked onto 
their patio. 


Persephone was waiting for her. The pretty calico was sitting right 
where it had been when Sarah had first seen her. Sarah could see 
the cat clearly, even with the back light off; her eyes, gleaming under 
the full moon, were staring directly into hers. Not at the food, at her. 
Sarah felt a shiver as she put the can on the deck and made a tss 
tss sound to coax the creature over. 


The cat made a little head motion, shaking her head to one side 
momentarily, then leapt off of the rock she was sitting on and ran 
over to Sarah. The cat, pretty as she was, was a little jerky as it 
climbed up the stairs, almost as though she were just figuring it out 
for the first time. Sarah noticed that the cat's tail didn't whip back 
and forth when she was running, only once she was on the deck; 
even then, the motion looked...more deliberate, she would have 
thought if she had known the word. 


Sarah loved her clumsy little Persephone. 


The kitty let Sarah pet her while she ate the tuna, purring all the 
while. When the last of the fish was gone, the cat licked her lips and 
nuzzled against her leg. Sarah picked her up and put Persephone in 
her lap. She felt the cat tense up, as though it were going to resist or 
scratch her, then relaxed at the last moment. The cat began purring 
again (with that same sort of deliberate effort, Sarah didn't think). 


Sarah stroked Persephone with the clumsiness of a young girl. She 
laid down on her back on the cold deck and continued to pet her. 
Persephone walked along the girl's short frame and sat on her 
chest, gazing into her eyes. She began to lick the girl on her nose. 
Sarah giggled quietly. 


The cat just nipped her a bit, right on the nose; not enough to hurt, 
but Sarah didn't know why she wasn't letting go. Then she felt 
herself become very sleepy. 


Manuel saw the shape of his daughter lying on the back porch and 
ran outside. She was just lying on the deck, apparently asleep. 
Manuel carried her into the house and laid her on the couch in the 
living room. "Sarah? Sarah? Are you okay?" 


His daughter jerked awake suddenly. Sarah looked around the 
house with a certain unfamiliarity. "How...how did | get here?" 


"What were you doing out on the porch? You scared the hel—the 
heck out of me!" 


"There...there was a stray cat outside. | was taking it some food. | 
thought it was my friend." Sarah began to look sad. 


Manuel understood now. "Oh, honey, it's okay. Sometimes you think 
animals are your friends, but you have to remember—" 


"That wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow- 
ripening fruit?" Sarah replied. Her eyes were now glazing over, 
staring at the wall behind her father. "A friend to all is a friend to 
none. A true friend is a soul in two bodies. He who has many friends 
has none. Daddy what's happening." 


Manuel couldn't get his cell phone out fast enough. "Hello, 911? 
Yes, it's my daughter. She was bitten by a stray cat, and | think 
she...she just needs help. Please, send an ambulance to..." 


Sarah heard her address and kept fading into the fog that was 
overtaking her. So many thoughts, ideas, words, all just coming out 
of the aether. A constitution is the arrangements of magistracies in a 
state. All virtues are summed up in dealing justly. The history of the 
current Regent of Novomundaus tells to us that he fails to behave as 
such a ruler and cannot be permitted to live. 


What was happening to her? 


Random words and phrases continued while Manuel called her 
mother and kept pacing around the room. Suddenly, a knock at the 
door. The back door. Manuel walked over and opened the door. 
Sarah heard some bits of the conversation. 


"Good morning...tell you about...gospel...Christ?" 


"No...not a good time...exactly is that? What the hell is that you're 
holding?" 


Sarah felt a screaming in her brain, pulsing, throbbing, exploding. It 


stopped just as she heard a popping sound, a grunting from her 
father, and the thud of an adult male hitting the floor and convulsing, 
electricity coursing through his muscles. Three men stepped over 
him while another administered an injection into her father's neck, 
picked him up, and carried him out the door. The three men 
advanced on Sarah. 


If she were thinking coherently, she would have thought what 
happened next was like watching one of those action movies Daddy 
liked. She was trapped in her brain, watching her body leap up 
suddenly and begin attacking the burly men walking towards her 
with a strength and speed that was completely foreign to her. She 
watched herself claw a grown man's eyes out of his head, then bite 
down into his neck. She (felt? heard? knew?) something inside her 
brain, something foreign to her brain, calculate that there was little 
chance of success, calculate the best vector for exit, attempt to 
escape. 


She heard that popping sound again, felt her entire being explode 
with pain, watched herself fall to the floor just out of reach of the 
open window she was leaping towards, and (heard/felt/watched) the 
screaming in her brain again. She felt herself having her hands tied 
behind her back, being picked up and thrown over one man's 
shoulder, being carried out of her house, being thrown in the back of 
a van. She heard people climb into the van, heard unmuffled voices 
from the front: 


"Did you get confirmation this time?" 


A different voice, female: "The little detector thing led us right to her 
living room, and the little bitch tried to take Eastman's jugular out 
with her teeth. | think that's confirmation enough." 


"Mac, we gotta confirm it, after what happened last time." 


"Yeah, yeah." The (woman?) turned towards Sarah, grabbed an 
instrument from the floor in front of her, pressed it against Sarah's 
forehead. 


"Electronic emissions at standard amplitude, broadcasting at 
frequency Chi-19. Presence of SCP-877 confirmed at this time, 


0811 hours." The woman turned to the man driving the van. "Did 
Lee take care of the ambulance?"