Well, it all got started when I became god.

The Administrator explaining the dangers of containment to President Eiseinhower

Security Clearance: Qliphoth
Duties: The Administrator is more of an editor than a writer. Over many years, he has seen the rise and fall of countless SCP documents. If found, please contact Overwatch Command for pickup.

'The Administrator' discussing containment of Manhattan Island with Premier Bush

Biography: The Administrator has been known to exist for much longer than the typical span of a human life. Many personnel have noted that due to the fact that they have never seen him, and only occasionally receive word from his office, that he is a hoax. These personnel are to be summarily hanged.
It has been noted that he has a habit of keeping his hands together, never bringing them more than a few inches apart, even when reaching for things. Though he is seen as slow and even at times sluggish in nature, he has displayed amazing feats of strength when needed on several occasions. His ar
Items 'The Administrator' has been affiliated with

SCP-262 - A Coat of Many Arms
Item once belonging to The Administrator now relinquished to the Foundation.

A very faithful coat

Periodically, The Administrator will refuse to walk

A historic day when The Smoker handed The Administrator a garden spade, upon which a foundation rested, after earning his trust and friendship

There's two sides to everything, at least. Sometimes there's more, sometimes there's less. Let's just say that I got both sides of the coin, and then I flipped it a bunch of times, and then I forgot which side was supposed to be where. Does that make any sense?
No?
Sorry, sometimes I mix up my metaphors a bit, and we end up pretty confused. But, anyways, this is the story of how I managed to find all my stuff. I lost it because I wasn't careful, and because I left my mind behind when this all began.

Personnel Reports
Professor Kain Pathos Crow: “Oh, he's just something people talk about over lunch or when they're between assignments. It kills time, and it's a fun game to speculate on who really calls the shots in this crazy world."
Agent Fritz Willie: “I like to tell people he's my brother.”
Dr. Snorlison: “I'd like to poke at him and see what happens. Just to see if any of the rumors about being made entirely of legs and toes are true. Or something like that, at least.”
Director Neil Ghost: “No big deal, son.”
Dr. Gears: “There are no records of anyone by that name working for the Foundation.”
Dr. Iceberg: “Whatever the bossman said goes. I'm not on staff to care about last decade's rumors.”
Dr. Glass: “Never met the guy. Heard he's pretty interesting, though. I'd love to sit down and have a chat with him, but he's probably too busy. I've never even gotten a call back about it.
The first set, I think, is the best one. They're the ones that, while I made a lot of mistakes, I learned from it. Plus, a couple came out really good. And they did their job of ironing out the bumps in my coin purse. Oh, yeah, I forgot that there were a lot of coins here. Sometimes they'd get flipping as they jangled in the purse, and before you knew it we'd gotten in too deep. Or they had, at least. I was fine.
ADDENDUM OF ONE
On March 11th, 19██, it was noted that several people witnessed a one armed man wandering through Site-19. Due to the smell reported by those in proximity to the person, it is believed they are a bum who managed to wander past security. A full audit has been started, and all personnel are to report for a mandatory security screening.
Really people? This is what lets us know there are holes in our system? - ██████
don't trust the staff. there's something wrong with them. they're too many, but they all know each other

This Timeline is no longer Prime. Access has been denied. I'm sorry, We must not Be Cool Yet
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
This Timeline is no longer Prime. Access has been denied. I'm sorry, We must not Be broken Yet :(
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I'm Sorry, this Timeline must become Cool. Access has been denied. We must not Know the Dark Yet :(]]]}}
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
This Timeline has become Prime. The Broken have been denied. I'm sorry, We must not Be Thaumiel Yet :(
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Does the black moon howl?

Personnel Reports
they're not persons anymore.
Dr. Alto Clef: “Who?”
Dr. Chelsea "Photosynthetic" Elliott: “I've actually done some research on him. Earliest records are about sixty years ago, and beyond that there's some vague references to a 'leader'. Most of the records, though, are incomplete or just references by name. Not much of substance.”
Dr. Frederick Heiden: “Please, leave me alone.”
Dr. Jack Bright: “Yeah, I've heard of the guy yer talking about. He's just a legendary thing, from back in the day. When we thought there were twelve O5's, we said he was there t'be the tie-breaker. People don't talk about it much now, anymore. Probably because we don't need icons like that to keep people together.”
Dr. Jacob "Kens" Kensington: “I think he bought me lunch once.”
Dr. Rights: “I heard he lives up in a biiig tower at Overwatch, and he watches down on the O5's from the back of a mighty, scaled dragon, and he flies the skies for free! Or, uh, something like that. You'll have to wait until I finish the book to hear the whole story.”
Dr. Northrop: I'm a little busy right now, can you come back later?
Agent Strelnikov: “Is stupid rumor.”
Dr. Mann: “He's probably more interesting on the inside than outside.”
Dr. Kondraki: “Fuck that guy.”
there's hands everywhere.they don't stop moving.they're making new unpeople to rule the world
INTERVIEW WITH SUBJECT 20-7 “Doug Kondraki”

Interview occurred during the subjects det[DATA REMOVED FOR BREVITY]nd no longer cooperates due to the status.
Kondraki: Is this going to be long?
Interviewer: I don't think I can say, it's up to you. These are your lodgings, aren't they?
Kondraki: I just stay here. I don't own anything about this place.
Interviewer: So, cutting to the chase. You don't like the Administrator?
Kondraki: I always thought it was a stupid concept. For there to be one big boss at the top.
Interviewer: Well, you were known for an autocratic style of management, at Site-17…
Kondraki: Yeah. Look where that got me.
Interviewer: Well, I didn't mean to offend…
Kondraki: Everyone abandoned me. Do you know what that's like? To just be totally given up on? To go from riding fucking dragons to being written off by everyone and their brother? To have coworkers try to assassinate me, seen?
Interviewer: I imagine it wasn't easy.
Kondraki: It wasn't. But you know, I'm not bitter about how things turned out. You know why?
Interviewer: Why is that?
Kondraki: Because the house of inconsistent horses has a secondary effect.
Interviewer: [DATA EXPUNGED]
At this point, Dr. Kondraki attempted to breach the interview site, and was able to disable sixteen guarding personnel before being captured. Currently, the security of his lodgings are being upgraded as he awaits [DATA REMOVED].
some of them were broken, but they self-regulate. they ate him to conserve his power after he burnt on the stake
<End Log>

BYE BYE BYE
Jack Bright's retirement party wasn't something to write home about. For those who'd lived long enough to remember Clef's, or even Gears', there'd been quite a bit of fanfare. In Clef's case, a site-wide chowder cook-off commemorated his passing. Seeing the look on his face when he took a bite of what he thought was new england clam chowder, and turned out to be some godawful homebrew designed to look as appetizing as possible while retaining absolutely no nutritional value.
Gears had been seated stoically in the center of the lobby, while everyone around him took their turn to commemorate the man. Normally, site command would disallow such shenanigans, but these were legendary icons passing into the realm of memory. Gears himself hadn't made much of a speech, but he had thanked everyone for their time, stood for a moment, then left for the last time.
Bright's going away had none of the fun of Clef's, nor the dignity of Gears' parties. He supposed it was natural this time. He was the last of the old guard out the door, moving on to… wherever the Foundation wanted to keep him. The few researchers who knew him, or at least thought they did, sat in the room, awkwardly watching as the doughy convict body picked at a slice of cake.
“Hey. Moving on?”
Bright looked up. Before him stood a tall… person. Their face was a complexion of contradictions, with some lumps thrown in for good measure. It wore a long, musty trench coat, with barely perceptible bumps meandering beneath the cotton surface.
“Who are you?”
“The new normal.” They shrugged, as two hands popped out of the sleeve, outstretched as if to shake.
Bright looked at it, shrugged, and shook. “Here to see the last of the old guard out.”
“I guess. Depends on how old you want to look at things.”
“Old for me, then. My kind. We're not of this world anymore.”
“No, afraid not. It's unfortunate, because you all were very interesting to watch. But nobody gets it anymore.”
“Yer tellin' me…”
“It's an inevitable part of life. We all have to move on, or at least see that we interfere as little as possible with the new order.”
“You say it like it's so easy.” Bright slumped one cheek into his hand, and glanced up to his visitor. “It's not fun, thinking how I've put generations of work into this place… and now I don't belong.”
“There will be other places.”
The stranger turned around, and they moved. It wasn't an accelerating movement, or really any velocity at all, but it was a shift in tone. Bright looked up. He was still seated at the same table, but instead of being surrounded by half-bored vending machines and fully-bored researchers, he was in a cabin. A small fireplace crackled to his left, and cast a flickering illumination over the rest of his surroundings. The person before him took off the coat, and perched themselves on the creaky wooden floor.
“Oh, you're one of those, huh?”
“I am original. You want to go for a walk?”
“… What's it like out there?”
“I don't know.”
“… Sure.”
The two of them, together, walked across the room, and opened the door that ended the second era.
I liked having the power to do anything, for awhile. But then I got bored, and then I got bored of being bored! How do you do that?
It must be magical.
WHAT A FEW PEOPLE HAVE SAID
Napoleon Bonaparte:(Recovered page written in exile, prior to the 100 days.) At Stotteritz, we encountered a beggar who claimed to be from the future, and told me that my campaign was about to end in disaster. We would've ignored him, but for the fact that his arms were bronzed. A number of our staff members took interest in him, so he was interred until time could be had to examine him. I do not know what became of him.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy:(Source Unknown) There was, ah, a fake-armed CIA spook. He came in with some very, very realistic looking papers, and told me that Cuba affair had gone sour. He said we needed the codes now. I just looked at him. I didn't know what he was talking about. Then he said if, ah, if we launched now, some of the midwest might be saved. Of course, that's when Hogan came in and took him down. I don't know what they were thinking. And I want a full investigation into what the hell he was doing in the executive mansion.
Stephen King:(Suppressed Interview) One of the oddest things to happen to me, out on the road, was at an autograph session. In Westbrook, I think. A larger gentleman approached the table with a copy of the Stand. Said he was a big fan. Now, I think I might be a little crazy here, but when I looked at his hand holding the book, it was green. I asked if he was okay, and I looked up into his eyes. They were green too. He said he was fine. It was pretty scary stuff.
I lost a lot, flipping that coin, or dial, or whatever you want to call it. It wasn't really a coin, because you couldn't buy anything with it and it wasn't really made of metal, flat, and it possessed the properties of water. But the water bit was how I managed to make the interesting people.
ACCESS IN DENIAL
In order to prevent anything about The Administrator from happening, a number of false preconceptions are to be maintained about life, the universe, and everything. Any actions taken by The Administrator officially do not exist, and any sightings are to be viewed as a breach of contract. The Administrator will not change anything about our prior experiences, except as required under ████-███-██████.
WARNING: THIS DOES NOT EXIST.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

it's all burning
Eventually, when I really buckled down to start looking for stuff, I found that most of what I'd lost wasn't really that lost. I knew where it was, per se, but I couldn't find it. But it wasn't lost. It was just misplaced. I was still in control, and I could, and I can, still find everything if I looked hard enough.
It'll all turn up eventually. Don't panic.
PERSONNEL REPORTS
Dr. Tilda D. Moose: (Laughs)“No, no, I don't think we even humor that one anymore. It's like the mid-tier research staff telling the new people there's a pool on the third floor. Nobody really believes it, but a couple people every year try and ask, ‘just to check'. But yes, it's a more or less dead rumor.”
Agent Fredericks: “Is that the same thing as being the Overwatcher, or am I messing that up again?
Dr. S. Vang: “He's a famous dead guy. Who is famous for being a famous dead guy. Or something. I don't think anyone really gives a sh- er, that anyone really cares.”
Director Maria Jones: “Why, did somebody find him?”
Dr. Django Bridge: “Sure, I know him. He hangs out at the pool on the fifth floor.”
Agent Lament: “Well, we're not really supposed to give our thoughts on the guy. It's one of those distracting things, the ones that they say keep people from their real jobs.”
Recording, Context Unknown
Agent Lament: "The Administrator was the original name for Zero-One, before the rest of the O5 Council was properly codified. It's been that way for years, even since the organization got too big for one person to easily handle."
Unknown: "C'mon. You know more than you're saying, I know. You've worked with Gears and all those other muckity mucks."
Agent Lament: "Well… There is a little more to it than that…"
Unknown: "Oh yeah?"
Agent Lament: "Have you ever heard of… Second Havana?"

Documentation Review - Thaddeus Xyank

Research has shown that in every reality, there exists a person who either calls himself, or comes to be known as, The Administrator. This is not unusual, because most realities have counterparts in others. The curious part is the persistence of his character and his role. Every iteration of The Administrator has some sort of job related to the Founding of the Foundation.
Or at least, claims to. Although there are stories of him having a role, no documentation has ever surfaced to prove it. The only written records are secondhand reports of his behavior, or encounters with him. Occasionally, a typo-ridden biography will appear on Foundation servers, and cause a panic when Overwatch thinks they've been infiltrated. It always has some gibberish, with a couple of coherent lines: “The Administrator has been known to exist for much longer than the typical span of a human life.” and sometimes “The Administrator goes by many pseudonyms, although none of them are very convincing.”
He's almost like Dr. Gideon. In fact, he's exactly like him, with the only difference being that Gideon always has a different role, but the Administrator stays the same. No versions exist of him founding the Insurgency, or doing something completely unrelated to the paranormal. His impact seems to be minimal, limited to a curio piece.
My final analysis is: The Administrator is an interesting, if inconsequential figure. He appears, then quickly vanishes, leaving only scraps of information behind. If I ever meet one, I'll update this document.
As of 09/18/2015, the size of the “Administrator Biography” file has increased by 20gb on Foundation databases. The reason for this discrepancy is unknown, as the content of the file is unchanged. Research is ongoing.

Sorry
TRANSCRIPT OF A CHANCE ENCOUNTER
“So, does it have a name?”
“There are so many indentations of me throughout the whole work.” He smiled in a fatherly way, as a pox-riddled green tentacle curled out of his sleeve to brush some dust of his collar. “Little touches, so I can keep my finger on the pulse.”
“So what, then, you're just another administrator?” she paced around him, keeping her eyes trained on the openings in his coat. She saw it shift and move in a way carefully designed to resemble the wind, of which there was none to be found here.
“No, sorry. Unlike you, I am definitive. No offense, of course. There are no other versions, counterparts, or duplicates. It's a very rare thing, at least for you, to see something that is one-of-a-kind.”
“But I've seen all of you.”
“You've seen my little personal touches. I know you've met the smoker. Maybe an android, or the idiot who keeps ripping pages out. We keep in touch.” Two hands emerged from from his unbuttoned middle, one a deep maroon, the other soaking wet, and they shook on it.
“Pages?”
“It's a metaphor, to keep it explainable when I have company over. All of the different everythings out there are like pages in a book. You, for example, would be a reader who skips ahead to the good parts. You make the world a smaller place.”
She frowned. “Who's the idiot?”
“There are a lot of idiots out there. Only one keeps in touch. They're the type of person who rips out any pages they don't like, or in the idiot's case, because they're bad at explaining themselves properly, and worse at lying.”
“Shouldn't you stop him?”
“No, he'll learn eventually. They always do. Not like ripping a few pages out of the index ever really mattered, in the bigger picture.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
The Administrator shrugged, an infinite wave of misshapen shoulders rippling beneath his coat. “You came to me. I don't know what you thought I'd be telling you.”
“… Then I'm going to be on my way.”
“See you later. Good luck with your dad.”

“Farewell, your highness.”

I remember when they first rolled off the assembly line, all of the staffmen. They were just supposed to be a temporary measure, but it went on for too long. We outnumbered ourselves with half-people, people who talk and breathe and fuck like we do, but they're identical sets of people stamped out to every site.
We ruined everything.

When they pulled me out of the vat for the last time, they asked what it felt like to own it all. The world belonged to me. I didn't really mind it, but it gets tiring. You start out being god, but then it keeps on going up and up until nothing else matters. Too much responsibility, until it becomes meaningless.
So I depart. Goodbye, au reviore, so long and thanks for all the fish.