I couldn't decide whether the slang for vapes should be pixie sticks or popsicles, so I just left it at vapes.

Stepping past the double doors, you walk into a modest, open auditorium, sparsely populated with the other recruits.
You pass up the tray of free brownies along the way, well aware of many departments' tradition of lacing complimentary snacks with hallucinogens, and took your seat with an exhale. You've trained for this moment, suffering sleepless night after night, studying whatever the Foundation put in front of you.
Your phone says it's two minutes past the meeting time. Looks like the presenter is running a bit late. You're not quite sure what to expect from this; this department has always been seen as a bit nebulous. It's not long until a light clicks on, projecting a video of a woman on the far wall.

TFD-Orientation_Version-██.MP4
MPEG-4 movie -
Tags: Online-only

Created - 29 Jan 2024 03:41
Modified - 29 Jan 2024 13:25

[BEGIN LOG]
Hiiiiii, welcome to Orientation!~ Sorry I'm late, busy, busy, busy, you know how it is.
I know that a lot of you have questions, but no matter how many times you've been here, me giving this speech is absolutely necessary.

The woman in the recording seems somewhat familiar. Perhaps you've seen her before? You find it hard to believe you'd forget someone who looks so out of place (her red dress, matching purse, and a vape battery in her hands, nails painted a deep red).

First, lemme say - I know y'all came a long way to be here this morning. Prolly from across the country, or maybe from the other side of the ocean. I want you to know that we seriously appreciate you coming. Don't worry, y'all'll get back home by this time tomorrow, but we're gonna at least try and keep it refreshing for you in the meantime.

You did come a long way, in fact. It's nice that they at least acknowledged how far away from home you are, but "refreshing" in this context doesn't sit well with you.

Second, I baked the brownies myself! And yes, they're drugged. Though, if you ate any right now… Well, either you should have learned not to during your general Foundation orientation, or you're onto something.
Whether or not you did doesn't matter. You're gonna get fucked up either way, if you wanna work in the Final Department.
This time, you're gonna be taking them in your dorm tonight and you'll eat 'em before showing up to work. You'll thank me, you'll need the jump.

You would have waited for her to come out and say "'gotcha!~", but the open drug use felt familiar to you. Have you been here before? You take a deep breath and take a look around. The other attendees are playing with an — again — familiar headset, others are stashing a brownie away for later. What catches your eye is someone in the very back.
Someone looking at you.

With that over, my name's Claudia Pomare, and let me just say it's an absolute pleasure to meet you! I'm the Department's Admin, which means I'm your boss.

You break eye contact from the onlooker. Claudia Pomare. You're positive that you know her, or at least, OF her. She founded the Department decades ago by inventing the drug she's about to have you take now. But for someone who's supposed to be 80 years old, she hardly looks 30.
And this recording couldn't be that old; it's too high quality, and she's holding a modern vape battery.

This mandatory seminar for the Final Department is to get you inoculated to the drug that will save your butts every day you'll be working here. It's what makes us even remotely able to function alongside the Foundation's armed forces, its research department, and energy consumption analytics unit.
Now, of course, if you're uncomfortable with this, you are free to leave now. I'm sure that the Foundation can find a different use for you with your skill sets, but you all did specify that you would be willing to partake in performance enhancers, should the Foundation request it of you; I don't expect any proble-

Your overwhelming sense of deja vu is giving off too many red flags for your liking. It's nerve wracking; everything seems so familiar, yet nothing is making sense. You get up from your seat, eager to get out, but the recording of Admin Pomare pauses to address you.

Hey, you there, Agent "56th First Day?" You had your chance to step out already, this opportunity's not for you. Go ahead and leave, but you ain't escaping 'till you pass. Next cycle, speak to me in my office before this, that number is a tad high, and we might need to force some things.

You look at her for a moment. "56 first days?" What does that mean?
You consider sitting back down, but… She did dismiss you. Awkwardly pardoning yourself from the room as she continues the lecture, you step past some of your peers, and out through the double doors, passing up the brownies along the way, and make the walk back to your dorm. Thankfully, you didn't bother unpacking last night. You were only meant to stay here for a couple nights, tops.
This site is a dedicated training facility for new recruits, but you haven't really seen many people on-site, just a skeleton crew taking orders from the main site. Unless you count the Administrator's remote lecture, of course.
Thankfully, the dorm isn't too far. You quicken your pace to get there, the instinct to look over your shoulder not leaving until you finally have the security of a locked door behind you.
Digging through your belongings for your passport, you're about to leave and confirm with your Site that you want to be put someplace else, but your train of thought is interrupted by the knock at the door.

Anyway, what on earth are we coating your virgin lungs with? “neurolastic” doesn't really explain much, does it? Honestly, explaining how it'll help to someone who hasn't taken 'em makes me feel like a hippie, but you can expect euphoria, synesthesia - particularly in the “seeing infinity” department, and heightened energy. Mostly though, it puts you in the exact brain-state needed to do your job: handling the infinite.

Just as soon as you unlock the door, someone kicks it open. The edge slams into your forehead, knocking you to the ground.
You don't get to to see how the person was wearing a strange respirator on their face. You didn't see the glock in their hands as you tumble to the ground. You don't even realize that the person looks exactly like you.
All you get to see after you recover from getting bashed is the bottom of their boot, and the flash of gunfire.

Where does it come from? A plant. It's safe, no need to worry your pretty little heads about that. You'll notice "candy” comes in a lotta forms like patches, vapes, brownies, and cotton candy.
See that lil' respirator thingy in front of you? We call it cotton candy, after the serious cottonmouth it gives you as soon as it's on, but this lil' doodad is officially called a neurolastic Respiratory Mask, and you can prolly guess that pumps you full of vapors at full blast. Effects are instant, results are effective, and it feels intense. Which works, cause your flight or fight instincts should already be going off before you use it. This's so that when the time comes, you're at peak condition to stare the gods down in their face and walk backwards into the abyss.

You exhale into the mask, calming yourself as you stand over your own corpse. Hearing gunfire from outside as well, you look to your watch, and realize that Orientation ended right about now. Which means that all the other recruits are going to be killing themselves soon, if not now.
This is the 59th time you've woken up today, the first time that you took your Candy, and the first life you've taken. You considered yourself lucky, working for the SCP Foundation with no body count. At least 'till now. Assuming this counts.

It's especially important for our Sequence Breakers, but you guys in the lab coats need it too for rainy days. Now, we'll be inoculating y— here, let me join you —inoculating you so you know what to expect, but also we're going to see how you function while you're over the moon. The first hit is always the most indicative of how you'll react to it in critical conditions, and see if you can actually handle it.
So! Let's do this then! First, you'll fit it over your head like so, and once it's secure, take the cartridge, make sure it's tightly screwed in, and then… Theeeere we go. Everyone good?

You turn the valve on your mask, letting the neurolastic agent flow into your lungs, going into a coughing fit as soon as you do so.

… Oh, wait, yeaah, you'll be training your lungs too, I totally forgot 'till basically all of you were coughing them out. Anywho, your first test is gonna be surviving 'till tomorrow. We've introduced a twist on the famous Groundhog Day-type anomaly to everyone in this room while you were in transit. The Candy should help, but you're mostly gonna be on your own.

As you see and feel the neurolastic kick in, your fingers trail along the strands of space-time; it's almost like a running stream, but it has texture of marble.
But you know that you aren't out of the woods 'till you see sunrise.
The neurolastics makes it feel like the sun is shining down on your face as you move the couch up against your room's door, your nose feeling tingly in between brief coughing fits. As you listen to the choir of gunfire.
You're high as hell right now, but it's a functional high. You have your balance and faculties, and while colors are somewhat more vivid than you're used to, that's nothing to worry about. If anything, you feel more in control on the Candy than you do off it.
Despite that, you're still too distracted by what you've just done to notice the figure right behind you, stepping out of their hiding place. Despite their mask pumping their lungs full of Cotton, their breathing is steady. Low. And most of all, quiet.

Oh and uh, if you have been here before, you no longer are required to be here at orientation, but you may still repeat this meeting regardless. Candy's available in the cafeteria or in any of the machines, so you should be able to just get whatever whenever.

You don't hear them creeping forward. You don't see the barrel of the gun rising to the back of your skull. You don't see their finger curl around the figure.
But as you stare down at your own bleeding corpse, you do see the aura of someone else that does not belong in this loop.
Your grip on the gun tightens. You spin to meet yourself.

If you die, don't worry, you can try again next time. Oh and if you see your time-clone, kill them before they kill you, just don't kill your 'dupe 'till after they leave this meeting. You might think one of you is "destined to die," but the odds are really more like 60-40.
Hm… Anything else…

One more gunshot joins the choir.

… Nope, I think that's it! Have fun!