As Archibald rolled away from the lime-flavored wall of death, a 
voice seemed to speak to Archibald's mind - a voice that made him 
feel very sad and tiny indeed... 


"YOU'RE TOO NOISY." 


And Leopold the Lime replaced the Universe and lived happily ever 
after. 


Birthof aNew Day 


Note: This is the final entry of a 7-part story. It is 
recommended that you start from the beginning with 
SCP-3475 -- Our Shifting Foundations. 


D-1460 gradually woke up to the sound of alarm bells, laid over the 
subdued tones of smooth jazz. 


He only knew that what he was called was D-1460 because the 
uniform he was wearing was properly reflected in the mirror ceiling 
above him, "D-1460" on the uniform. As he shot up in a startle, he 
could see green paper stick out of a pocket on the front, but after 
further investigation to check for any other identification, what his 
real name could be, he couldn't find anything. 


The second thing to fully process for D-1460 was the mosquito in 
the corner of his eye. He couldn't catch it. He couldn't squish it. No 
matter what he did, where he looked, whether he closed his eyes or 
not, anything he could think of to try and catch it, it was always in the 
upper right quadrant of his right eye, unable to disappear. He tried to 
ignore it as best as he could. 


The third thing to fully process for D-1460 was the exactness of the 
setting for him. There was a mirror ceiling and a mirror floor. Three 
of the walls were mirror. The mirror wall behind him had a door 
which couldn't be unlocked or opened. The fourth wall, on the 
opposite end of the room, had a giant realistic mural on the wall 
resembling a beachview, acting as if it was a window. 


The fourth thing to fully process for D-1460 were the four bodies 
lying on the floor of the chamber. They looked to be asleep, though 
why they'd be asleep in their own blood mystified him. He tried 
shaking each of their bodies, but they had refused to wake up. Oh 
well, he could figure it out himself. 


The fifth thing to fully process for D-1460 was the music on loop. 


Imagine a more vibrant world, free from shopping centers and 
normality. This is home. 


Every once in a while, a robotic, monotone voice would utter that 
phrase over the pitched-down jazz music filling the chamber. There 
was no rhyme or reason to it. Every time D-1460 called out to the 
robotic voice, it would not reply. That was that. 


A chamber filled with four sleeping bodies, music, a nice view, a 
table and a chair, and D-1460. This is where he would stay until he 
could figure out a better option. 


Some hours had passed before a thought struck him. 
"| have to go to the bathroom." 
Enjoy. 


D-1460 looked up and saw a door next to the room's exit that was 
not there before. He got up, cautiously approaching the door. 


"What is this?" he asked as he opened the door. 
Bathroom Incorporated. 


"Oh. Thanks." It was a bathroom, alright. A toilet. A sink. A shower. 
Towels. Clean uniforms like his, all with "D-1460" printed on them. 


He went to the sink first. It had running water. The water could be 
changed to either be hot, cold, or somewhere in-between. It 
functioned like a normal sink in every way. He drank out of the tap. 


He then tested the shower. The shower was also normal. The water 
could be adjusted to any temperature, much like the sink. For now, 
he had no need to shower and change into a cleaner uniform. 


The toilet was a normal toilet and functioned like one. 
"What are you?" he questioned. 


Imagine a more vibrant world, free from shopping centers and 


normality. This is home. 


"I'm hungry." 


Imagine a more vibrant world, free from shopping centers and 
normality. This is home. 


"Do you remember my name?" 
No response. 


D-1460. Of course that wasn't his true name, but a designation 
given to him. By the robotic voice? Surely not. No proof was shown 
that the robotic voice existed in any capacity aside from echoing 
over the music. Perhaps by whichever organization had been 
keeping him in the chamber, which probably meant that if he was 
ever going to be able to find out any information on this 
organization... 


He went over to the sleeping bodies and carefully examined them 
this time. The first oddity he noticed were holes in each of their 
heads. That certainly couldn't be healthy. The second oddity were 
their stiff bodies. People generally were not this stiff when they were 
sleeping. How long would it be until they woke up anyhow? The 
loneliness of the situation was threatening to strangle him. 


In one of their pockets, D-1460 found identification. It was nearly 
entirely empty on the front and back of it. That was the third and 
most striking oddity. All that remained was a photograph of the man 
he picked up the identification from, and the word "Foundation". 


"That doesn't help much. Foundation... Foundation..." 


He fidgeted with the identification as he paced around the room. 
There was nothing in his scattershot memory that corresponded with 
"Foundation". "foundation", yes. Buildings has foundations. 
Organizations or institutions that had been made with 
endowments... was that this building? A Foundation for what? 


Very little about the room had changed since he woke up in it some 


unknown hours ago. Was he in a room that this Foundation had 
been based around? Art? Sleep studies? Music? Robots? 
Something wasn't adding up, and there were enough pieces missing 
that — 


He crumbled to the floor, clutching his head. A massive headache 
had come on, and he felt utterly incapacitated at that moment. The 
lights pulsated, the music felt harsher and uglier, and the bodies 
looked more sickly. Even the air started to weigh on him just the 
slightest bit more. Any hesitation, and he would slip into his own 
thinking forever. 


Imagine a more vibrant world, free from shopping centers and 
normality. This is home. 


"F-Fuck off." 


He couldn't even reach the concepts he was thinking about. His 
mind had hurt him before he could. Was it a self-defense 
mechanism now? Either he was on the right path, or he was going to 
accidentally kill himself over it. It might have been best to close his 
eyes now and sleep. There was nothing around with caffeine in it, 
unfortunately. 


D-1460. 


That wasn't his true name. Did it mean something however? He 
studied the numbers carefully. 1460. 1. 4. 6. 0. 


1. The 1 looked like an |. 


4. What did 4 look like? There wasn't an English letter that 
corresponded neatly with 4. If he wanted to continue down this path 
of thinking however, he had to come up with a comparison. 4... W? 
W looks vaguely enough like 4 if you twist your brain enough. The 
amount of brain-twisting he'd done lately made that perfectly fine. 


6. The 6 looked like a G. 


0. The 0 looked like an O. If 6 was G and 0 was O, was 60 GO? 


GO... 
IWGO. 
"| will go?" That sounded about right. "I will go. | will go. | Will Go.” 


D-1460. | Will Go. That was as much of an identity as he would be 
able to grasp onto for now. 


"Do you know what this Foundation | found out about is?" | Will Go 
asked, not expecting an answer back. 


-2152 — 


| Will Go crumpled to the floor and screamed, unable to parse 
anything else the voice was saying. His head flared up, and he 
passed out before recovering. 


"Please put it into terms | can understand, whatever you are. What 
is this Foundation that | found out about?" His head still hurt from 
the last attempt at inquiring, so he made sure to steel himself in 
case it happened again. 


We are products of those inquisitive and in pursuit of normality. You, 
I, ; , we are the promises of a capitalist 
society seen through to its processes. This is a celebratory 
watermark. His head twanged again and again and again and again, 
but it didn't feel overwhelming like all the other times it hurt. A small 
blessing, if a pitiful one. 


"What are you?" 

Their designation for | was 2152. 

"Designation? What do you mean?" 

This facility was designed to hold oddities such as myself. You are 


here to understand my purposes better. We are both pawns of the 
most desirable outcome. 


| Will Go paced around. The more he learned, the more questions 
he ended up having. A dull pain echoed in the crevices of his mind; 
he had to be careful about what information he could sift through. It 
was a chore. It'd be easier to just sit and stop thinking about 
everything instead. 


"How are you replying to me? | thought you were just a voice 
looping over some music." 


The music instantly cut out, replaced by the sounds of the ocean 
instead. It was calm and docile. 2152 did not reply. This was 
probably for the best. He needed time to think. 


"Fuck, I'm hungry." 


| Will Go wasn't sure how much time had passed since then. Days 
might had gone missing since he last thought about his hunger. It 
didn't seem like days. It must have been hours, but he had nothing 
to do except to drink from the sink, think, and sleep, so there was no 
way to tell how much time was missing. The oncoming pain of 
hunger complicated matters. Even though sleep in the chamber was 
the best he had ever gotten his entire life, the hunger still woke him 
up on occasion, forcing him to confront pulsating lights until he was 
able to fall back asleep. This was his only way of keeping time; the 
approximate hours between pulsating lights. 


This was why the sudden appearance of a marble bust on the table 
caught his attention immediately. 


There it stood. A sculpture as proud and vain as any. | Will Go had 
no idea who it was a bust of, nor did he know its function. But it had 
appeared one moment, offsetting the tranquil and still nature of the 
room with its presence. Its colors didn't fit in with anything else in the 
room. It was too bright even when considering the lights fixated on 
the ceiling. And as he inspected, he realized it was looking at the 
mural of the beach. 


Imagine a more vibrant world, free from shopping centers and 
normality. This is home. 


Oh. The music was back to normal. When did that happen? It must 
have happened when the bust appeared, but he didn't recall what 
noise filled the room in-between the last time he spoke to 2152 and 
now. Had it always been like this? It must have. Yeah. That was it. 


"| should shower." The thought came to him suddenly, but he wasn't 
opposed to it once he said it. It had been some amount of time since 
he discovered the shower, and not once did he use it. It'd be a good 
idea to clean up, if nothing else. Maybe he'd think better. Even if his 
head started to hurt less because of it, that would be enough. 


He undressed, feeling lighter just from taking off his uniform. He 
didn't mind undressing in front of the still-sleeping bodies (which 
were taking on a new color by now), nor in front of the mural, or 
even near the bust. What did it matter? No one was watching him, 
and even if they were, he probably deserved it by this point. If 
nothing else, it was his one way of having some kind of 
understanding over his current situation, and that was all he really 
wanted. 


Water poured down. It was as cold as he could stand it being. His 
being felt pure again. 


| Will Go thought of 2152. He had no clue what its purpose was, or 
why it was there. All he knew was that it was there for a reason, and 
acted like it did for a reason. There would never be a time where 
he'd figure out its reasons, but there was purpose to it. That's what 
really mattered to him. It helped make the situation feel less 
despairing. 


| Will Go thought of his name, still unable to remember his past one, 
even after all this time. That was fine. | Will Go was a fitting name 
anyhow. Even if he never went anywhere again, it was a name he 
gave himself. 


| Will Go thought of the four bodies. Who were they? The thought 
hadn't occurred to him until now, but if he was there with them, then 
there should have been a reason for that. Did they work at this 
Foundation? Was he also an employee there? Why was his uniform 
different from theirs, then? Really, did that even matter? The end 
result was the same no matter what came before. His sleeping 
friends, or partners, or enemies. Whoever they were, they didn't 
matter now. 


| Will Go thought of the mural. Now that he thinks about it... it seems 
pretty inviting. Was it worth checking out? Probably. 


| Will Go thought of home. The layout of the shower reminded him of 
his childhood. He could remember that much at least. When he was 
nine, his family moved from one city to a slightly bigger city, and its 
shower was decently-sized. It felt safe, and it could hide his naked 
body without the need to hang a towel, or use makeshift curtains. 
From nine to thirteen, he lived the most stable period of his life. For 
four years, he enjoyed something as simple as a shower. 


He had to assume it was stable. When thinking back on his home, it 
felt safe. Any other period of his life that he remembered felt 
turbulent, or rocky, and even with all the other showers in the world 
to keep him clean, they didn't have the same magic appeal as his 
very first real shower. Standing there in the shower, feeling the cold 
against his body, trapped in a chamber with sleeping bodies and 
oddities that he could not explain... it felt like home. 


An hour passed before | Will Go got out, more refreshed than ever. 
He grabbed one of the many suits by the shower, dressing himself 
as he exited the bathroom. As far as he could recall, he'd never 
properly worn a suit of his own before. It took some fussing getting it 
on just right. He had trouble tightening the belt enough to keep his 
pants snug. The tie especially felt laborious to make look just right. 
But it was worth it. He looked sharp, and he didn't look worn-down. 
What a nice feeling. 


surveillance of SCP-800 since it entered Foundation custody in 
1979. 


SCP-800 has always been observed as an ink painting, usually in 
Japanese or Chinese style. Korean-style paintings have also been 
observed, including SCP-800's current appearance, as mentioned 
previously. The era of painting does not correspond to SCP-800's 
observed age, with painting styles observed from the 15th century 
Ming dynasty to contemporary East Asian art. Nations are 
commonly represented as national animals, such as a Chinese 
dragon, bear (presumably representing Russia), or eagle 
(presumably representing the United States). However, the 
symbolism in SCP-800 is often subtle and nations may often be 
represented by plants, landscapes, or people. For a detailed list of 
SCP-800's manifestations, see Addendum 800-1. 


SCP-800 may be marked or damaged by normal means; however, 
any stains on the painting disappear after a number of days. The 
paper SCP-800 appears on may be torn, but tears in the painting 
likewise regenerate after some days. It is possible to alter the 
content of SCP-800 semi-permanently by using identical materials 
and painting in a similar style to that of SCP-800's current 
incarnation. However, after the events of Experiment 800-1, all 
proposed alterations to SCP-800 require O5-level approval. See 
Addendum 800-2 for more information.