Private journal of SCP-3009-C

*NOTE: The following is an excerpt from the private journal of SCP-3009-C, written a few days after Experiment 3009-6.*

██/06/2018

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I met her a few days ago. I’ve been begging Researcher Kim to let me go home this entire time, but suddenly I’m glad that they won’t let either of us "communicate with civilians" until they work out which one of us is the real one. Mom, Dad, W██… would they prefer her, if they met her? Would they think she was the real one? *Is* she the real one? I think I’d prefer her, if I was them.

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It’s like nothing fazes her. She’s in that stupid app just… I don’t know, making snide jokes and giving all the researchers that goddamn smug smile, so confident in who she is. She doesn’t hate me because she doesn’t *need* to hate me, because she’s so sure that she’s real and I’m not. It should have been so easy to accuse her of being an imposter, but I just couldn’t. Talking to her… she doesn’t even have a body and honestly she feels more real than I do. I hate her. I want to be her. She’s everything that I used to like about myself.

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I’ve been so off-balance since all of this started. No, since before that, maybe. It’s hard to put a finger on when I started feeling wrong like this. I thought it would pass but it didn’t. Now I can’t tell if I’m just depressed or if I’m literally a different person. Maybe I really am someone else and I just haven’t figured it out yet.

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The researchers here keep giving me stuff to do. There’s always experiments to participate in, books to read, psychologists to talk to… but it's all pointless. It takes so much effort to drag myself through the day — it feels like I’m walking through treacle or something. Privacy doesn't exist here. They’ll probably read this journal as soon as I’m out of the room. Are they going to add this to their file of all the evidence against me being the real one? I don’t know, and I don’t know if I care. I’m tired all the time and I can’t even remember how long it’s been since I got here. Do I still want to go home? Does it even matter that they’re keeping me here?

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Having a conversation with her… I don’t even know how to describe it. I thought the problem was that we’re the same, but it’s not. The *real* problem is that there’s this new and improved version of me preserved forever in digital form, and she looks like me and talks like me, but she’s better at being me than I am. Was I really that happy once? Was I really that confident? This is going to sound really stupid, but she reminds me of those fossils that they’ve got in museums of insects from a million years ago. It’s like looking at a butterfly crystallised in amber, except that the butterfly is "Stacey back when things were okay" and the amber is some stupid app.

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God. Maybe she’s the real Stacey Lee after all. Maybe I'm just her distorted reflection in a funhouse mirror, staring out at the real thing from limbo. And if she isn’t, maybe it would be better if she was. I mean, I think about myself as SCP-3009-C nowadays. Isn’t that fucked up? I shouldn’t think of myself as an acronym and a number sequence. I’m a person, for god’s sake. But even I’m not sure that I’m "Stacey" anymore. At least there’s no doubt that I’m 3009-C.

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But… what are they going to do if they decide she’s real and I’m not, and work out how to put her back in her into my body? What happens to *me*?

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