So they played dumb, and the US threw money at them. 
Civil wars, sectarian things, Sunni vs Shiite, you think the 
WestCivs cared anything about that? | literally saw a bill 
pass both houses of Congress that pledged support to a 
Sunni country we had officially declared war on eight 
weeks earlier. Someone messed up the acronyms. You 
think they'd revoke the law and pass another one 
properly proofread? Nope. They made peace with that 
country, and declared war on another — their enemies 
— just to maintain our military presence there. It was 
more work to pass a whole new peace and declaration of 
war, and they preferred doing that than admitting they 
didn't bother to learn a damn thing. 


That was before the Big Comedown. Your school isn't 
worth a damn if you don't know about the Comedown. 


After exploiting the west for more than a decade, what 
was the next obvious step? Get us to fight their wars for 
them. It was brilliant in its simplicity. One tribe was allied 
to the Qing, another tribe attacked them, then came to us 
asking for help. They'd hide their guns and say they were 
helpless, and we'd send troops in to "advise" them. Qing 
would do the same. Money flowed east. Two or more 
tribes might even stage a skirmish, pretend to be at each 


others' throat, then call on separate superpowers to give 
them aid. It was the absolute best weapon the natives 
had against their colonial overlords, and if so many 
Americans hadn't died, | would've considered it the 
greatest comedy of the age. 


Just remember, Locke; people want what they want, and 
it doesn't matter where they come from or who they are. 
The longer you keep them from what they want, the 
more insidious their methods become. You can't keep 
people from the things they want and expect them to 
give up and let it go. 


Notice | say "want" and not "need". A need is a 
physiological requirement. People need food and water. 
They need basic amenities. It doesn't matter who they 
are or what they are, their body tells them what to do and 
they do it. A want requires more than that. A want 
requires concerted effort on a person's part. A force of 
will that has to be sharp and intelligent, clearly defined 
and perfectly executed. The Turkish revolt against the 
Ottoman Sultan was an act of necessity, and it was 
crushed by superior firepower. The military coup against 
the Sultan was an act of want, and it succeeded because 
it was too fast and indomitable to stand against. Of 
course, a handful of tanks and fighter jets doesn't hurt 
either. 


From the Office of Ret. Lt. Col. Umber 


From : ten.dkuf|n0n1 eihr#ten.dkuf|nOn1eihr 

To : moc.liamtoh|rekcoL_P#moc.liamtoh|rekcoL_P 
CC: 

Subject : Devil his Due 


Looks like being a coward ain't an impediment to being 
right 


« Mongrelization | Motivation of Man | Rigged from the Start » 
Anabasis Hub 


Mr. Parker 


Mr. Parker. 


Don't look so surprised, you have to have known this day was going 
to come eventually. One of your fellow boarders was kind enough to 
let me in. They won't be disturbing us, so please, sit down. 


Let me make sure | have the right Jackson Parker. 


55 years old. Born in inner-city Detroit. Multiple tours in Vietnam. 
Sentenced to death row for killing a police officer. Date of execution 
May 19, 1979. Now a professional waiter at one of New York City's 
finest bistros. And...anyone ever tell you you look like Ernie 
Hudson? You know, the black Ghostbuster. Maybe I'm just thinking 
of him because the sequel's coming out in a couple of weeks. 
Whatever, forget it. 


One thing they don't have in your file is your unshakable faith. You 
believe, in a way that so few others do, that everything happens for 
a reason. 


| might feel the same way if | was one of the rare D-classes who 
have escaped termination. | have to say, you certainly earned this 
little life you've made for yourself here. 


| saw the footage and the pictures from after the...event. | don't 
know if you ever had it fully explained to you what happened there. 
We learned that the creature you decommissioned was responsive 
to the beliefs of its viewers. One of our guys must have got it into his 
head that the thing was going to kill everybody. And because he 
thought that, it did. 


Until it got to you, of course. 


| Know your exit survey was a little while ago, so to refresh your 
memory, the way you phrased it had to do with "falling back on your 


faith." You showed, in the face of this blood-drenched monstrosity, 
unwavering belief that you would make it out of there alive. And 
because you believed, it was true. 


Listen...l'm sorry about what happened to you. 
We used to be so callous. Hell, it was to the point of being stupid. 


There may — or may not — be a thing that'll kill you if you blink in 
the same room as it. So far as we can tell, this thing also shits all 
over the place. Almost every time we sent some guys in to clean up 
its mess — snap! Their life's over, just like that. Only just built a 
robot that can do the cleaning a couple of years ago. It sickens me 
to think about all the men who never came out of that room, all 
because we didn't think of them as human. Just a letter and 
numbers. 


But what we need you for, it can't be done by a machine. Look, I've 
been thinking about this a lot lately...there’s something remarkable 
about the human heart. Don't you agree? No matter how much we 
want to give up or say "no" to life, the heart still beats. That's all it 
knows how to do. It keeps on beating: "yes-yes, yes-yes." It's 
admirable, something so resolute in its work. 


And | know how you work, Mr. Parker. You know I'm here for a 
reason. And | think you know you're meant to do something that will 
save a lot of lives. If you do this for us — if you do this for me — 
we'll do everything in our power to make sure you get whatever you 
want for the rest of your days. 


| think | can tell what that expression means. 


Let me know when you're ready to go, D-14134. 


Multi-U 101 


Hello, everyone. My name is Doctor Trevor Bailey, I’m head of the 
Department of Extra-Universal Affairs, and this is the Introduction 
Seminar for Extra-Universal Operations. | know that’s a mouthful, so 
just call us Multi-U. 


Space-based ess-see-pees? Sorry, wrong room. You're looking for 
Doctor Cartwright, three doors down on the left. No, no problem at 
all. 


Heh. NASA guys. Can’t figure out directions in two dimensions. 


Now then, alternate universes. Alts for short. We're still fumbling in 
the dark for the most part on the exact principles, but we do know 
enough to make a seminar about it. And before you ask, yes: 
everything is possible. If you end up here in Multi-U, you'll see quite 
a lot of it, which in reality is an infinitesimal nothingth of what’s really 
out there. Infinity and all that. 


Did you know that there’s a universe where the entire Foundation is 
dedicated to punching sharks? Or that Clef is Satan in another? Just 
some fun facts | like throwing out there. Loads of weird stuff here in 
Multi-U. 


Now then, back to making the infinite understandable. Around here, 
we use the H-B-F classification system: Hub, Branch, Floater. 


Hub universes are the big ones. Metaphorically speaking, of course: 
They’re not big so much in size as they are in importance. Hubs are 
the bases of branches, just as branches will turn into more 
branches. Branches always have some sort of change from 
whatever they are branching off of. It might be one tiny thing like you 
didn’t brush your teeth this morning, or it might be some massive 
cultural upheaval or XK event or something like that, but all of them 
will be based off of another universe, all the way back to the hub. 


Now floaters, they don’t have any apparent connections to anything 
else. No hub, no branch. They’re the ones where the entire universe 
is made up of asbestos and marshmallow fluff, or the ones inhabited 
solely by rotting fish heads speaking in cockney accents. 


Now, like | said before, you are going to find some really bizarre 
stuff. Not like you won’t see any of that elsewhere, but there’s a 
realization everyone comes to sooner or later, and it’s going to break 
you. It breaks everyone eventually. Normal ess-see-pees, they're 
scary because they're wrong. They’re all something that isn’t right. 
Most people can deal with that. They know that there’s something 
wrong here, and they push it to the side and chalk it up to another 
day at work. 


No such luck in Multi-U. When you’re dealing with alts, most times 
the things you see are exactly the way they should be. Somehow, 
the procession of events and position of atoms has created a 
universe where whatever you’re seeing is perfectly normal and 
acceptable. Yeah, there’s a universe where your favorite childhood 
television show is completely and utterly real. There are also plenty 
of universes that will take that, rape it, and run it through a meat 
grinder. 


Now before we get too carried away with all the things I’ve seen, alt- 
operations are normally pretty simple. Get in, look around, pop on 
back. Don’t leave anything behind, don’t take anything back with 
you. Maybe the research team will authorize a few follow ups. That 
said, there are several very important guidelines to follow. 


One: Observe: don’t interact unless you absolutely must. 
Remember, you're the ess-see-pee in this scenario, and the more 
differences there are between our world and whatever world you’re 
going to, you're going to stick out worse than a Jack Bright 
Christmas party. We don’t want that. 


Two: Pack light, keep on your toes, document everything, and 
remember where the exit is. 


Three: If it's dangerous or pointless enough that there’s no sense in 
authorizing a follow up expedition, then don’t. Just because you 
might have D-class at your disposal does not mean that you have 


some sort of quota. 


Four: if there’s something dangerous enough to bleed over and 
mess up our universe, close the door behind you, or even better, 
destroy it. It's not worth risking our own universe to study some 
minor cultural variances. 


Five: Are you the sort of person who wonders “If | make out with my 
alternate universe, gender-flipped self, is it incest or masturbation?” 
The answer is no, you are not setting a foot outside our reality. Ever. 


But, if you do happen to meet yourself while in another universe... 


“Oh, I’m sorry, | thought this was supposed to start at two-thirty.” 


Okay...well then. This here, everyone, is what some people call a 
problem, though | prefer the term “learning experience”. Can anyone 
tell me what you should do if you meet yourself? You, with the 
beard. 

No, you do not kill them immediately. 

Okay, you, with the MOM tattoo. Nice touch, by the way. 

No, that'll just make things worse. 


“Sorry I’m late everyone, I’m Dr. Trevor Bailey and...oh my.” 


Well then. I’m afraid we'll have to wrap this up now, so | can go 
and...solve this. Refreshments are in Break Room 4 down the hall. 


“Did you see that one guy’s face?” 


SCP-909: Mr. Forgetful 


Item #: SCP-909 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-909 is to be contained ina 
standard humanoid containment cell. No writing materials are to be 
allowed inside the cell. A short summary of SCP-909's current 
situation is to be pasted on the wall beside the bed. Extras are to be 
provided if the previous summary is removed by SCP-909. SCP-909 
is to be fed three times daily with any peanut-free meal. If SCP-909 
is seen attempting to write or draw, he is to be incapacitated through 
non-lethal means. 


Currently experimentation with SCP-909's effects has been 
discontinued, due to risk of containment breach. Research may be 
conducted if the current Site Director's approval is given. 


As of current regulations on "Misters", SCP-909 is to be contained in 
Hall of Site- . 


Description: SCP-909 appears to be a young adult Caucasian male 
suffering from permanent anterograde amnesia. SCP-909 seems to 
be aware of his condition but cannot recall experiences past this, 
aside from memories gained due to SCP-909's effects. 


SCP-909's anomalous effects become apparent when it writes down 
any of the experiences still in its working memory. When described 
through writing, experiences immediately enter SCP-909's long term 
memory. However, the experience disappears from the memory of 
all other persons involved. 


SCP-909 is allergic to peanuts and will go into anaphylactic shock 
following the ingestion of any peanut products. 


SCP-909 was discovered at Entrance [EXPUNGED] of Site- . 


“The one with the mole on his nose? Good lord he looked like he 
was about to pee himself.” 


“And then there was the lady in the back, the one with the bow, she 
looked like she had seen a ghost.” 


“Pfuh. Definitely don’t want her here, then. You see a lot worse than 
ghosts at Multi-U.” 


“Yeah, you get to see the doctors Bailey.” 

“But there was that one guy at the ten-thirty. The way he was glaring 
at us, I’m positive he had us figured out. Might want to change up 
the plan for next time, Trev.” 


“?m Tom. He’s Trev. You’re Tristan.” 


“Oh, right...Dad was a real jackass, wasn’t he?” 


Murder Mystery 


I've dealt with a few dozen murders since | started working for the 
Foundation, but this was the first time I’d ever had the pleasure of 
actually interviewing the person killed. 


My name is Agent Darrow. | got yanked out of the LAPD when my 
wife Maggie was found murdered in our bed. | was the likely 
suspect, and even though I’d never do it, | was tried, convicted, and 
sentenced with a handy bit of evidence. And then, a man came and 
talked to me. Called himself Dodridge. Offered me the chance to 
beat the rap and keep doing what | was doing. It beat the chair, got 
a new face, got a new job. It was weird, though, watchin’ that guy 
with my old face fry. Course, he’d actually killed someone, so | didn’t 
mind so much. 


The murder victim was one Jack Bright, well Known Foundation 
scientist and all around fuckin’ asshole. Within two minutes of 
meeting him, | could understand exactly why someone had killed 
him. Guy was an expert at rubbing you the wrong way. | think he got 
off on it. 


"| was minding my own fucking business." He was yelling, and he 
had a little bit of spit at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off, 
swearing. "Fucking body. They gave me one that drools. 
Dumbasses probably thought it was funny." 


Bright was one of those that I'd heard of through the grapevine. 
Effectively immortal. His soul stuck in a ruby amulet and transferred 
from person to person by touch. No one knew what happened to the 
soul that was already in the body when the amulet touched it. Some 
questions are better off not answered though. There was a file on it 
laying on my desk. I’d leafed through it, but | preferred to get down 
to brass tacks normally. 


"Can you think of anyone who might want to kill you?" | asked. 


"Clef," he said immediately, followed by a long moment of 
contemplation. "And a few guys that I've been messing around with. 
Maybe my aide. Maybe someone higher up, though if a death gets 
ordered, they probably wouldn't assign your ass to it." 


That wasn't correct. There were three or four times that I'd been 
assigned to someone whose death had been ordered. Usually, 
around the end of my investigation, a memo got passed down telling 
me what to put in my official report. Those were the easy ones. 
Open and shut. 


"Clef? You mean Alto Clef?" | asked. 


"What other fucking Clef is there?" he asked. He stopped for a 
second, gauging my face, then stopped himself from adding 
something. Above my clearance probably. 


"And why would Doctor Clef want to kill you?" | asked.