Sophia looked over. “Well, a swami and one of my exes told me | 
should ‘trust my intuitions’. Shit, Johanna: yes, | trust you.” She 
almost cracked a smile. 


Johanna fastened her hands around her hips. “Well, me too. I'm 
glad you came back.” 


Sophia paused, looked up at her former mentor. “Thanks.” Then 
turned her eyes again to the camera feed, and stood up. “Sorry, | 
think | need to go look at this in person. The surrounding areas, 
anyways. I, just... Just in case.” 


“I'll take a look. Don't worry.” Johanna brushed towards the door. 
“Besides, you're eyes-on-high.” 


“Really? Thanks. Thank you.” Sophia glanced over, then back. 
“Don't get too close.” 


Moments later, she was alone in the room. 


At four in the afternoon, SCP-027's outline began to shift. This was 
immediately reported by the guards on duty, who relayed it to the 
higher-ups. It stayed like that, little tremors, for a minute longer. 


Then its clothes burst, and out came the mice. 


No one could possibly imagine where they came from. They formed 
waves and pools and little rivulets on the floor, climbed the walls, 
slid through the grated floors and clogged up the intake for the 
incinerator. Then they climbed one another, forming a fungus-like, 
agouti-and-black mass in the center of the cell. The guards watched, 
horrified, as the host of 027 was lifted. He faced the plate-glass wall, 
with his arms held out- beseeching, Christ-like. His mouth was 
ripped and spotted with with bloody, tiny mousetracks. 


It occurred to Sophia that he must have died within minutes. 


“Listen,” she pans in over the guard's earpieces, “I'm sorry, but 027 
relies on carriers once its host dies, and any one of you could be it. 


observed to grow to up to 10m in diameter and emit over 100,000 
candelas. SCP-606 has also been observed to shrink to 4cm in 
diameter, emitting less than 0.5 candela. Despite its ability to emit 
large amounts of light, SCP-606 emits no heat. It does not appear to 
be composed of any form of matter, and is able to pass through 
material barriers effortlessly. 


It is presently theorised that SCP-606 is an entity composed purely 
of knowledge or information, and information obtained from 
SCP-606 itself appears to corroborate this. Furthermore, SCP-606 
appears to derive sustenance from information, growing in both size 
and luminosity when provided with sources of information to its 
aforementioned maximum size and shrinking when it is deprived of 
this. 


It is capable of 'feeding' off a large number of different sources, 
including digital devices, books, magnetic tape and living beings, 
which simply involves SCP-606 surrounding the object. This process 
does not appear to affect its sources in any way. Digital media 
stored on flash drive is used in the maintenance of SCP-606 so the 
specific details as well as approximate size of all information 
provided to SCP-606 may be easily recorded. The specifications for 
SCP-606's maintenance listed above have been formulated through 
both discussion with SCP-606 and prolonged observation; SCP-606 
appears to hold a preference for classical literature, for example, 
and the given amount has been observed to keep SCP-606 at its 
normal size and luminosity. 


SCP-606 is sapient, apparently self-aware of all Knowledge it has 
gained over its existence, and capable of intelligent communication. 
It accomplishes this by producing pure sine wave tones through an 
unknown mechanism. This has been refined through teaching 
SCP-606 a tone-based language system of the Foundation's own 
invention, which all personnel of level 2 or above assigned to 
SCP-606 are required to learn. 


If another sapient individual enters SCP-606's containment cell, it 
will attempt to ‘enlighten’ them, to use SCP-606's own words. This 
involves SCP-606 moving to surround the being's head (or similar 
equivalent). This results in generalised tonic-clonic epileptic seizures 
for a period of 30 seconds to 5 minutes, after which the individual 


You're going to need to separate yourselves and leave the room one 
at a time. Closest to the door, you first.” 


Priority number one: Contain potential new carriers. Two: Destroy 
created vermin. Three: Watch for any further developments... 


“Director?” A voice keyed in on the radio. “Just saw a rat run past 
my foot.” The one who had spoken, looked over. “Keiran?” 


One of them was stamping, swatting at his vest. “I-” he crackled over 
the radio. “I-” 


As the guards formed a perimeter, the rats dropped out of his 
clothing like a squirming, entwined wave. In an instant, they were on 
top of the guard crew, although the bulk of them were clumped over 
Kieran's screaming form. It appeared to be creating them- which 
was unusual- 


“Oh fuck,” said someone, “I see scorpions.” 
The rest of the guard team went down shortly. 


“Kieran?” Sophia said calmly. “Just relax, and try to take control. 
They'll listen to you.” 


“No,” said the man's voice, high-pitched- “I can't- they want-” There 
was a shriek, as a rat bit into his ear, and then tossed its head (and 
the dismembered communication unit) to the side. More and more of 
them filled the room to flooding. 


Sophia reached over, and turned off the unit. Elliot appeared in the 
security room. 


“We have firebreathers in the surrounding hallways.” 
“Tell them to go when they see the horde.” 
027 bore down, covered in a cloak of rats and insects and now 


flapping crows. But the fire melted them away, and his body 
blistered and burnt out of recognition milliseconds later. 


When 027 woke again, it woke in the body of one of the 
flamethrower-carriers. The primary consciousness attempted to 
rebel, before a new mind- fractured into the bodies of a million tiny 
creatures- won over, and carried it to its goal. 


“Wait,” said Sophia, “God, wait, stop. It's not the host- it's the effect. 
It's jumping bodies. Call them off now.” 


Elliot hesitated for just a second. “All units retreat from Sub-Floor J. 
Do not engage.” 


“Circumstances have changed,” Sophia enunciated. “I think it's 
running till it has to stop, killing its host, then picking up the next 
closest one and... gaining control, somehow. Maybe it's forcing a 
direction?” 


“You don't know where?” 


“No. But if it is going somewhere, it looks like upstairs. We need to 
nonlethally turn it back, or it'll ride Security up to ground level.” 


The Svalbard site's location had certain advantages. Minutes later, 
two million gallons of electrified seawater flooded 027's level. A tide 
of rats and centipedes hit it and drowned, and then a redoubled 
number crawled out over the corpses of the others, and bound into a 
tight raft. But 027 sank when it stood on it, and its host, instinct 
momentarily dominating, paddled to the surface for air. 


“That'll stop it for minutes.” 

“Minutes, or maybe longer if its host keeps control, look-” 

Over the camera, they saw a dozen rats chew a gaping hole in 027's 
neck. The body slumped face-down in the water. 

“Oh.” 


“Light,” said Barculo, “It's jumped to Keter and it's going to get out. 
We need to-” 


“| know,” said Sophia. She pressed a button. “All personnel, we are 


beginning a Class 1 Evacuation. Evacuation units assemble. An 
area of five kilometers around the site will become impassible within 
twenty minutes.” 


She turned to Elliot. “With all external doors sealed except the one 
to the airfield, even if 027 keeps producing rodents, it'll have to 
literally fill the place to bursting before it can get a host out. If we 
start shutting down level by level now, we can recover at least 50% 
of the objects...” 


Barculo froze, then saw the look on her face. He nodded. “Keep 
monitoring- I'll delay a group and we'll get the second-to-last flight 
out.” He stood up. 


“Elliot? Have you ever called an evac- of this magnitude- before?” 
“No. | don't envy you. You know Garrison's still down there, right?” 


Sophia stared at the screens. “I know.” 


When the sirens started up, Johanna had found a group of agents 
escorting a transport unit with an enraged 1075, and an armload of 
other objects, out to evacuate. She took over operations, guiding the 
motorized unit down the hallway, as some stood guard and others 
kept an eye on containment. As they neared the elevator, the agent 
on point froze, and gestured to the others. 


A long tentacle of black gas floated out of the adjacent corner. The 
sound of millions of tiny feet. 


“Don't shoot it,” said Johanna, and then, as it rounded the corner, 
“Get back-” but that hadn't really been the right thing to say. How 
had it gotten up the stairs? What properties did it have? 


Oh. Of course. Host bodies. What a fool she was. 


In came a swarm of wriggling vermin that went up to her stomach, 
but they didn't make a move. 


“I HAVE OBSERVED YOU,” the gaping throat of the guard mouthed. 
“YOU SAW MY MANY EYES AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD NOT 


LOOK BACK. NOW 1 AM ASCENDED, AND THE EARTH IS MINE, 
AND THE LAST I REQUIRE OF YOU IS ONLY A FINAL BODY, MY 
STEED, AND ONE LAST PATH INTO THE DAY.” 


The black horse- Suddenly, calmly, Johanna understood. It was 
obvious. She pressed her earpiece on. 


“| Know who you are,” said Johanna. 
“Johanna?” Gabriel Bryant asked, over the radio. 


A crow, which looked like it had been pilfering fields for decades, 
landed on its shoulder and inched closer to 027's face. 


A second too late, she remembered that the lanyard on her neck 
had her security card, and its Level Four override privileges. Her 
own brain could supply the rest of the codes. 


“YOU KNOW. DO NOT FEAR.” 
The crow tore out 027's throat. 


The thing that had been waiting inside 027 for millennia, the thing 
wearing the body of Dr. Johanna Garrison, jerkily snapped the 
lanyard off her neck, and slid it down with a passcode to unlock the 
unit's door. A black horse, with an ancient leather saddle, trotted out 
and nuzzled it. 


“| know you've been waiting for me,” 027 murmured. “Thank you.” 
Then it swung onto the horse's back with one hand. It breathed a 
darkly-colored sigh of relief as the leather fused into its hand, and 
the river of clicking and crawling and flapping beasts fell into 
marching order. All was well. 


Outside of the Site, and its perimeter facilities and defenses, a long, 
sloping, desolately beautiful beach lead out to sea ice. 027 surveyed 
from its perch, and cocked its head. 1075 stepped across the ice 
and onto the surface of the water, radiating black miasma. 


“WE HEAR YOU, AND WE ANSWER YOUR CALL,” said 027, to the 
open air. It turned around. “WY MOST LOYAL FOLLOWERS, LET 
ME LEAD YOU FINALLY TO YOUR REWARD.” 


The black horse, the rider, and their growing cohort and raft of 
vermin started out across the glass-smooth ocean, just as the first 
wave of light from the Svalbard Site hit them. The blinding, 
desperate blast behind them, they cantered calmly forward. 


« Interlude: A Memo Regarding a Theft | Canon Hub | Interlude: 
Last Words from Svalbard » 


Last Words From Svalbard 


They turned their eyes away, at the blast, then looked back to see a 
frosted mushroom cloud rapidly seeding out from the remains of the 
site. The three passengers, in the cramped main compartment, 
hadn't missed an amorphous black shape on the beach, before 
everything was obscured with smoke. 


Elliot Barculo put down his headset. “No one in the last plane reports 
any effects. Either it's gone, or...” 


“I'll tell anyone nearby to keep an eye out,” Sophia nodded dully, her 
hands pressed together. Bryant set down his tablet, where he'd 
finished a count of the planes that had made it out, and inhaled. 


“Did Johanna-” 


Sophia looked at him. Then she politely turned her head, so she 
didn't have to watch him cry. 


Time passed. Barculo looked outside, then spoke up quietly. “Light, 
the nearest rendezvous site is south-east of here, right?” 


“Right?” She glanced up. 


“Okay, the plane's taking us due south. Can you check with the 
pilots-” 


“Of course.” She got up and stepped into the cockpit. 

“That was a gutsy move, Doctor,” said one pilot, once she was 
inside. 

“Hell of a storm coming,” said the other. 


“| beg your pardon?” 


The first pilot looked around. “You just destroyed over 20 of your 
precious artifacts, ruined a very valuable center of operations, and 
killed about seventy people, including... was it Johanna? Dr. 
Garrison, your oldest friend. Why?” 


“| understand you're flying a plane, so | won't criticize,” Sophia said 
numbly, “but | really don't think you understand the magnitude-” 


“Answer carefully, now.” 


She looked up, then tried the door. It was locked behind her. The 
main pilot soun around to look at her, and she realized that he didn't 
look familiar. Not at all. 


She stopped, gathered her bearings, and faced the pilots. “Because 
it was our best chance of getting rid of that. Even | didn't know if it 
worked.” 


“A cost-benefit analysis.” The stranger seemed to feel out the 
phrase in his mouth, sounding appraising. “One last, best bet to stop 
the apocalypse.” 


“It was all | could do.” She looked between them. “Who are you?” 


A new voice spoke. “Have you seen Bryant, though? Him and 
Johanna, together for ten years. You did end his world, or he thinks 
you did. Armageddon can be a very personal thing.” 


The other pilot looked around. She had long hair, unusual dress, 
metal rings in her lip. She looked directly into Sophia's eyes. “Which 
| think you know very well, Doctor Sophia Light.” 


Her blood froze in her veins. “Who the hel/ are you? Where are you 
taking us? And-” she paused, searching for the right words to justify 
her actions. “There are different kinds of Armageddon.” 


“Timely words, Doctor. Alliances change- my name is Asherah, and 
right now, | speak for the Serpent's Hand. Your administrator didn't 
want our offer, so we're not after your shiny rocks, or your friends. 
We have a proposition for you.” 


« The Black Horse (The Crawling Sea) | Canon Hub | The Pale 
Horse (The Wayward Children) » 


The Pale Horse (The Wayward Children) 


And | looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name 
that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. 
And power was given unto them over the fourth part of 
the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with 
death, and with the beasts of the earth. 


The living creature thrashed in its slumber, twitching and Jerking in 
its never-ending agony. 


It wasn't in pain because of the acid bath, or the radiation, or the 
injected chemicals coursing through its body. It barely felt those. In 
fact, it had almost never felt any pain from anything the humans had 
done, no matter how many times they'd nearly destroyed its body. 
lts agony was the same anywhere it went, no matter what it was 
doing, no matter what was done to it, only lessened in the presence 
of one, never stopped. 


A voice echoed in the living creature's mind. 


You have endured your suffering long enough. Your punishment is 
finished. 


Emotions flew through the living creature's mind. Incomprehension 
and disbelief, then joy, then regret, then sorrow. 


All is forgiven. Once more, you are one of Mine, and you will never 
pass from My sight again. 


The living creature felt elation - gratitude and elation beyond 


compare. 


Dr. Alto Clef watched SCP-682 from the viewing deck above its new 
enclosure in Area 1032. The creature writhed in its massive holding 


tank. Its mouth was moving, though vital sign readouts confirmed 
that it was unconscious. Through the new acid mixture, you could 
still see it rapidly regenerating. But the mix was working excellently, 
in combination with the K103-particle bombardment and the 
chemical cocktail regularly injected into the creature's veins by darts 
fired from slots in the inner tank.