Thorn crouched down to look at Bishop one last time. 
She seemed to be coming around slowly as if her 
connection was lagging. He looked up and noticed the 
others in the temple began moving as well. Thorn 
opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head 
and ran into the light before the others noticed. MTF- 
Kappa-10 exited the Maxwellist network a mess and 
apparently godless. Bishop blinked hard and lifted 
herself to her arms to look around at the trashed scene. 


Thorn? 
Rook? 


[/end] 


[epilogue] 


There was a long meeting about what happened. Things 
were discovered and things were intentionally left out. All 
in all it was considered a success. With Hatbot now 
detained and processed, a randomly generated identifier 
populated the long list of other oddities, secrets, and— 
just things that need to generally be forgotten. SCP-2522 
fit snugly along with the other numbers as the attendees 
logged off at the close of the meeting. 


Later, Alex sat in her isolated workspace with the .txt file 
Thorn slipped into her hand at that debriefing. Alone with 
her thoughts and away from the prying eyes of her 
researchers, she palmed the file in her hand quizzically. 
She scanned it one more time just to make sure, and 
again it came up clean. Letting out a sigh she opened it 
up. At a glance, she was relieved that it was in fact an 
actual note with text. She then began to read: 


Untitled.txt 


« Part | | Part Il | Part III | Part IV | SCP-2522 » 


Her Inveterate Patience At Action 


Dr. Andrea Segerstrom had a wonderful junior year English teacher. 
The woman had the endurance of a saint, which served her well 
since she made the regrettable decision to teach at a high school for 
gifted students. Whenever her students got too out of control, Mrs. 
Cameron would close her eyes and whisper "/ love my job | love my 
job | love my job," until her thoughts of murder/suicide ebbed away. 


As Research Assistant Jarvis lay on the couch in her office, Dr. 
Segerstrom whispered to herself, "/ ove my job | love my job | love 
my job I love my job". To Jarvis she said, "Look, Michael, there's a 
reason you were ordered to see me. This gambling problem is 
getting way out of hand. It's clearly affecting your ability to reason." 


Jarvis regarded her with a calm, benevolent condescension. "Now, 
don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration, Andrea?" 


The entirely fed-up psychiatrist simply consulted her files again. "It 
says here you've taken out a second mortgage on your house and 
drained your savings. You've spent every one of your days off over 
the past two months at a casino or other such establishment." 


Jarvis’ carefully constructed superiority began to crumble a bit. "I'm 
able to keep my behavior off-site separate from my work life. I'm 
sure if you look in that impressively extensive file, you won't find a 
single instance of inappropriate use of Foundation time or money." 


Dr. Segerstrom fixed him with her best icily clinical stare. "There's no 
such thing as a off-the-clock-you and an on-the-clock-you, Michael. 
And there's no such thing as a compartmentalized addiction either, 
just one that hasn't become life-consuming yet." 


Jarvis sat up. "Look, Andrea, | don't have an addiction, okay? You 
know, working here is incredibly taxing and a man has a right to 
unwind." 


"Absolutely, unless his method of 'unwinding' begins to monopolize 
his life, drain his resources, and present a security breach to the 
Foundation. By the way, in this room, for the next 10 minutes, my 
name is Doctor Segerstrom." 


Jarvis's jaw clenched, his collected haughtiness gone. "Well Andrea, 
rumor has it you've seen first-hand what the pressure of the 
workplace does to a man. Perhaps if you were a bit less uptight, 
certain people wouldn't have to resort to extremes." 


Dr. Segerstrom sighed inwardly, bottling her anger. She could drag 
out this session for the next nine minutes, but it would only be 
prolonging the inevitable. She jotted down a few more notes on her 
clipboard before putting on her icy clinical face again. "Well, 
Michael, | believe we're done here. You've got a few more minutes 
left but | don't think they'll be very productive." She stood, opened 
her office door, and motioned the soon to be ex-Research Assistant 
Jarvis through. "Please exit to your left. When Nurse Takagawa calls 
your name, she will help you sign off on your required paperwork 
and give you any further instructions." When Jarvis had made his 
sneering exit, Dr. Segerstrom exited to her right and handed the 
papers to the older nurse. "Michiko, please pull up a list of all 
Foundation sites in need of Level 0 Clearance personnel." 


"| shall be sorry to see him go," said Takagawa. Andrea wondered, 
impressed, how anyone could maintain both genteel politeness and 
utter contempt in the same sentence. 


"Nothing for it, I'm afraid," said Andrea lightly. "He's completely 
unwilling to address his condition. Unless he begins to display even 
the vaguest understanding of the responsibilities that come with the 
title of Research Assistant, it's my professional opinion that he will 
better serve the Foundation as a Level 0." 


Nurse Takagawa handed Doctor Segerstrom the next patient's file. 
"Research Assistant Connor Graves," she said before pausing. 
"Have fun with this one." Andrea sighed. No matter what kind of 
doctor you were or where you practiced, vague statements like that 
never boded well. 


Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Segerstrom was rubbing her temples 


again. Graves refused to lie down on her couch and was staring at 
her with the twitchy nervousness of a guilty conscience. She sighed. 
"Connor, I'm not here to judge you." 


Graves barked short, humorless laughs. "Then what's the clipboard 
for?" 


"The clipboard is for me to make sure that you are healthy enough 
to continue to work for the Foundation. I'm here to find the best 
possible way for the Foundation and you to continue to work 
together." 


"Really?" 


"Connor, we won't consider ending your employment unless you 
pose a risk to yourself or the Foundation. This is for your own good, 
Connor. I'm here to help you, not condemn you," Dr. Segerstrom 
said soothingly. Andrea's Good Doc manner always worked 
wonders. Graves relaxed visibly as she went on. "Now, what led to 
today's visit? Don't leave anything out. Remember, I'm on your 
side." 


Graves sighed. 
"Do you know why you're here today, Connor?" 


Connor Graves clenched his fists. "Doctor, | get off to anthro skip 
porn." 


"| see." 


"But Doctor, | wanna make one thing clear," Graves looked Dr. 
Segerstrom dead in the eye as a new determination entered his 
face. "The vernacular ‘anthro porn' comes from ‘anthropomorphic’, 
from the Greek root ‘anthro-' denoting gender neutral human 
characteristics. It should say 'gynomorphic’, from the Greek 'gyno-', 
relating to that associated with women." 


"And is that significant?" 


"Of course! I'm not gay or anything!" 


Dr. Segerstrom's thin veneer of professionalism began to crack 
around her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth. "| see. I'm going 
to have to ask you a few more questions, of course." 


Thirty minutes later, Research Assistant Connor Graves exited Dr. 
Segerstrom's office with his position intact. Andrea left her office for 
lunch, checking her PDA. There was one more small work-related 
task she would have to complete over lunch. 


Many considered Overwatch HQ to be the heart of the Foundation. 
Andrea thought that title belonged to each and every Foundation site 
cafeteria on Earth. Loose lips may free skips, but a skilled 
Foundation ear can glean just as much from what's left out of the 
gossip as what's in it. 


Site-33 was, like most Site cafeterias and non-anomalous high 
schools, separated into cliques based specialty or interest. 
Biologists there, linguists here, MTFers in the corner. However, 
because this was Site-33, the mental health (hah!) specialists took 
up half the cafeteria. The shrink bloc was further subdivided, as 
psychiatrists regarded their psychologist counterparts as touchy- 
feely hippie types, while psychologists derided their physician 
colleagues as soulless pill dispensers. Nothing too different from the 
outside world. 


Andrea was looking for a spot where one could hold a reasonably 
intimate conversation without being too isolated. She settled for row 
of seats on the fringe of one of the Psychiatrist tables, towards the 
first Psychologist table. Perfect. The presence of others would be 
comforting, but they wouldn't be disturbed. Andrea scanned the 
room for the lost little figure with the short, halo-like afro framing her 
face. Finally, she found it. "Dr. Baxter! There's a seat right here. 
Why don't you join me?" 


The nervous young woman smiled at Andrea as she skittered to the 
table, her blush mercifully hidden by her dark brown complexion. 
“Thank you so much, Dr...Segerstrom?" 


"Yes, but please call me Andrea." 


"Then call me Alex! Thanks for inviting me over." 


"Oh, don't mention it. | was just as lost as you during my first couple 
of weeks. Now, you said you wanted to talk to me sometime. About 
what, exactly?" 


Dr. Baxter fiddled with her napkin. "Well, | guess | want to know 
what to expect." 


"You've completed your orientations, haven't you?" 


Alex snorted. "Actually, Dr. Segerstrom, I'd like to know what 
actually goes on around here." 


Andrea laughed. "You're a bit more wary than most new hires, aren't 
you?" Alex cracked a smile as Andrea continued. "Well, 
congratulations. As a Site-33 psychiatrist, you're privy to the most 
disturbing secrets of the Special Containment Procedures 
Foundation." 


Alex's eyebrows shot up. "Really? So what does SCP-" 
"No, no, not those kinds of secrets. | mean really disturbing." 
"Like what?" 


Andrea opened her mouth, then paused. She was a very self-aware 
woman with an in-depth knowledge of her strengths and flaws. One 
of her failings was that she was both an indefatigable gossip and 
intensely secretive. Andrea loved to dish out little tidbits of 
information, making her listener work for the whole story. That way, 
she could prolong the thrill of sharing a juicy bit of knowledge while 
remaining as aloof and mysterious as she chose to be. Now, Andrea 
knew that she'd be a spectacular failure as psychiatrist if she 
couldn't exert a fantastic amount of control over her more 
destructive urges. But, she reasoned, there wasn't that much harm 
to be done in indulging just this once. Besides, the kid was going to 
have to learn sooner or later. "Let me give you a case study. Bet you 
haven't heard one of those in a while." 


Alex laughed. "Go ahead." 


"John Doe. Late twenties. Research Assistant, transferred here 
within the past few months. Sought out psychiatric evaluation after 
colleague found pornographic images featuring various anomalies in 
his possession and threatened to publicize them." 


Alex's eyes got wide. "You've got to be kidding me." 


"lam not. | was bound to run into it sooner or later. Dr. Macmillan's 
written a fantastic paper on paraphilias of the anomalous. Give it a 
read, it's fascinating. Anyway, the patient showed no other 
psychiatric abnormalities. I've found him completely able to fulfill his 
duties and sent him on his merry way." 


Alex's eyebrows shot up. "Really? You just...let him go? No 
mandatory follow-up?" 


"Other than the required yearly mental checkup? No. His paraphilia 
wasn't ego-dystonic, but | recommended he see me again if that 
changes." 


"But..." 


Andrea smiled indulgently. "At the risk of sounding old before my 
time, you kids don't learn the things you need to learn in med 
school. It's easy to say we're non-judgmental healers and scientists 
until you come up against something that you, personally have an 
objection to. Well, Alex, you get over it eventually." 


"So this man is still in the Foundation dreaming of the type of erotic 
ecstasy only an eldritch abomination can bring?" 


"Yes. | should mention that this particular research assistant is 
particularly gifted, even among such a well-educated and 
professional group. The man's a positive asset to the Foundation, 
and his...proclivities...do not get in the way of him doing his job." 


Alex shrugged. "| suppose." 


"Not to mention that his paraphilia is relatively mild. Even if he was 
the foulest rapist to walk the Earth, the Foundation still might not 
discharge him if he was useful enough," Andrea said with a dark 
smile. "If you are important enough, certain indulgences may be 


granted to you. Sometimes horrible perversions are an asset for 
containment." 


Dr. Baxter's face suddenly looked very drawn. Andrea leaned 
forward. "That's your first hard lesson, Alex. The Foundation needs 
competence more than it needs virtue. You, just like every bright- 
eyed hopeful in here, came to this site in the middle of Cousinhump, 
USA because you wanted to be with the superheroes saving the 
world. Well, put up the capes and eye masks because you won't be 
needing them here." 


Alex began fiddling with her napkin, working it into a felted wad. 
"So...we're...| mean, if those people get certain immunities..." 


Andrea had to keep herself from rolling her eyes by reminding 
herself that her fellow women learned from experience that the 
institutions they stood for would not stand for them. "Don't worry 
about that, Alex. You're among one of the most talented members of 
an already indispensable class. The last thing the Foundation needs 
is for its best and brightest defecting to the GOC or Cl because it 
can't keep its other members in check. No, there are other 
allowances. But you'll learn all about that later." 


The cafeteria continued to bubble with lively chatter and acerbic 
scientific arguments, but the two women were silent together. 


Andrea broke the silence. "Jack Doe, also in his late 20s. Ordered to 
undergo psychiatric evaluation after concern was raised over Doe's 
behaviors outside of his work. Surveillance of Doe's personal life 
revealed financial problems, excessive gambling, and his most 
recent routine neurological tests revealed structures and dopamine 
levels consistent with addiction. Subject was obstinate and showed 
an acute lack of insight into his condition. Doe's security clearance 
was subsequently revoked and he is being remanded to Level 0 
Maintenance duties." 


"It's...very strange. | know that's probably the wisest option to take, 
but compared with the earlier case file, it just seems...excessive." 


Andrea shook her head. "Once again, you're not really thinking like 
an impartial scientist yet. Why are you so much more uncomfortable 


SCP-868: Mnemonic Meme 


Item #: SCP-868 
Object Class: Euclid-nuntii 


Special Containment Procedures: Two D-Class Personnel 
infected with SCP-868 are to be maintained in a soundproof 
humanoid containment cell supervised by at least one armed guard. 
Personnel wishing to experiment with SCP-868 must submit to an 
interrogation and background check to confirm their loyalty to the 
Foundation and its methods. 


All persons suspected of hosting SCP-868, along with all persons 
living in a community where an infectee has been located, are to be 
tested for infection. Any subject found to be a victim of SCP-868 
must be treated with AMN-868. Should a population treated with 
AMN-868 exhibit a noticeable amount of unusual behavior, a follow- 
up amnestic should be distributed. 


Any reports of SCP-868 infection in the general population are to be 
treated as a breach of secrecy. Personnel spreading SCP-868 
intentionally or attempting to access the current carrier of SCP-868 
without following protocol are to be court-martialed if applicable and 
stripped of all security clearance otherwise.