recursal/SCP-RECURSAL huggingface dataset:
A close up of SCP-005

Item #: SCP-005
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-005 poses no immediate risk in any direct sense. Even so, its unique functions require special measures be taken to restrict access and manipulation of the object. Approval of at least one (1) Level 4 personnel is required for the removal of the object from its containment area.
Description: In appearance, SCP-005 resembles an ornate key, displaying the characteristics of a typical mass produced key used in the 1920s. The key was discovered when a civilian used it to infiltrate a high security facility. SCP-005 seems to have the unique ability to open any and all forms of lock (See Appendix A), be they mechanical or digital, with relative ease. The origin of this ability has yet to be determined.
Additional Notes: SCP-005 may be used as a replacement for lost security passes, but only under the supervision of at least one (1) Level 4 personnel. SCP-005 may not be used for vending machine repairs, opening lockers, or for any personnel's spare home key. Removal of the object from the compound will result in immediate termination.
Appendix A: While SCP-005 has been shown to be effective in removing almost any form of locking device, further experiments have shown that efforts to disguise the purpose or identity of a lock have proven at least somewhat successful in defeating SCP-005's ability. In approximately 50% of cases where a volunteer was not able to identify a locking device as such, SCP-005 was not successful in deactivating the device. Due to these results, SCP-005 has been tentatively classified as 'sentient' and further tests are being run to determine its cognitive abilities. However, there are no results that show any traits that prevent it from being able to identify any particular locking device, only that the aforementioned device has been heavily concealed and disguised.

« SCP-004 | SCP-005 | SCP-006 »
Under direct orders of the founder, access is limited to those with Overseer clearance.
Overseer Clearance Granted

SCP-006

Item #: SCP-006
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Whereas the nature of SCP-006 does not warrant any extensive containment, a certain level of secrecy is necessary regarding the object's existence and properties, for obvious reasons. The following procedures are required not for personnel safety, but to deny or hide knowledge of SCP-006's effects from the personnel who interact with it.
1: All personnel interacting with SCP-006 in any physical way are required to wear modified Class VI BNC suits. Before personnel are allowed to perform procedures, they must be briefed with Material SCP-006B or SCP-006C. SCP-006A Briefing is the correct one and is restricted to only those with O5 clearance. To ensure personnel are wearing suits properly, they are to be submerged into a pool of water. Any air bubbles spotted signify a leak in the suit.
2: Procedures with SCP-006 are to be carried out under extreme surveillance. In case of contact with SCP-006, the commander in charge will announce Procedure 006-Xi-12, which the personnel have been briefed to believe to mean high toxicity is present and they must evacuate.
3: Any procedure in which liquid is acquired from SCP-006 must be approved by three (3) O5 level personnel. The liquid is to be transferred in a Quad-Sealant Container and under armed guard.
4: If at any time personnel come into contact with SCP-006 or liquid from SCP-006, they are to be confined and terminated after sufficient studies are done. Due to the nature of SCP-006, the most effective termination method is incineration. (For full report, see file SCP006-TerO5)
Description: SCP-006 is a very small spring located 60 km west of Astrakhan. Foundation Command was aware of its existence since the 19th century, but were unable to secure it until 1991 due to political reasons. On the spot of the spring, a chemical factory has been constructed as a disguise, with the majority of laborers under Foundation and/or Russian control. The liquid emitted from the spring has been chemically identified as simple mineral water in 1902, but has the unusual property of "health".
Ingesting the liquid produces the following properties in human beings: the ability to regenerate DNA damaged by sufficient duplication, heightened excitement of cellular duplication, vastly improved abilities in the repair of damaged tissue, and a frightening increase in the effectiveness of the human immune system. Upon testing the liquid on animal subjects, hostile bacteria and viral agents were destroyed immediately. Many reptiles and birds were unaffected, while higher primates experienced the same benefits as humans.

« SCP-005 | SCP-006 | SCP-007 »
Item #: SCP-007
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-007 is to be contained in a sealed room measuring 10 m on each side. Room is to be furnished comfortably as a living area, along with whatever items are requested by ███████████████ (hereafter referred to as Subject), given that providing Subject with requested items would not compromise security. Subject is not to be allowed to leave the room, and is to be detained with force if necessary.
Description: SCP-007 is located within a cavity in the abdomen of Subject. Subject is a Caucasian male, physically approximately 25 years of age (subject claims to be 28) and 176 cm in height. Most of Subject's abdomen (muscles, skin, and organs) is absent, though Subject does not appear to suffer because of this. Instead of normal flesh, a sphere composed of soil and water is present, though it does not actually come into contact with Subject's body at any point. The sphere appears to be, in most respects, a miniature near-duplicate of the Earth, approximately 60 cm in diameter, although continental alignment is not consistent with that of any alignment known in Earth's history. The sphere has its own weather patterns and negligible gravitational pull, in addition to microscopic organisms somewhat resembling those of modern-day Earth inhabiting it. Two intelligent species have been observed, though contact and communication with either has yet to be made. Technology levels of observed species must be checked at least once a week and, as of ██/████, are approximately equal to that of 15th-Century Earth.
Subject claims to be named ███████████████, but no records of such a person can be found. Subject does not require food or water, and while he has been observed consuming both, what happens to such substances after being swallowed is unknown. Subject is intelligent (IQ has been measured at 128) and amiable, and regards the planet in his abdomen as a minor curiosity about his body. Subject seems to experience no stress about his unusual condition. When questioned about planet's origins, Subject replied, "I just woke up one day, and there it was. I don't have any idea how it got there." Subject has provided a Social Security number and driver's license number and requested that they be checked against known records. When checked, it was discovered that neither had yet been allocated.
Dr. ███████ has a weekly chess game with Subject, during which Subject's mental health is evaluated. Dr. ███████ reports that Subject does not seem to mind the restricted living environment, and has yet to attempt to escape or show signs of violence or mental illness, though he has repeatedly requested a computer with an internet connection. It is recommended that this not be provided as it may be used to compromise security.

« SCP-006 | SCP-007 | SCP-008 »
SCP-011

Item #: SCP-011
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-011 and the area surrounding it are to be cleaned once every day. For safety purposes, cleaning should start at least 30 minutes after sundown. Cleaning should always be performed by at least two (2) personnel, who are also advised to note anything unusual about the item or the debris cleaned up. In a situation where the item cannot be cleaned for more than two (2) days, local residents must be contacted and instructed not to approach the item.
[Containment procedures nullified 2004]
Description: SCP-011 is a Civil War memorial statue located in Woodstock, Vermont. The statue is the image of a young male soldier holding a musket at his side, and is carved out of granite quarried within the area. Occasionally, SCP-011 has been observed lifting its musket to the sky to fire at birds which attempt to land or defecate on it. Reports detail that its movements produce soft grinding sounds but do not cause it any structural failure. Oddly, the gunfire is very similar to that of a standard firearm, despite observations that the item only loads granite bullets and granite powder into the musket (which is also unharmed by the firing). In spite of its efforts, some fecal matter does manage to strike SCP-011, and it has reportedly become distressed when it has had a large amount of feces on it, on some rare occasions even firing at humans.
Addendum: Those assigned to maintain SCP-011 are to see document #011-1 for instructions.
Document #011-1: Maintenance Brief
[Document archived 2004 - accessible to personnel with security clearance 2/011 or higher]
Additional Information: SCP-011's seeming sentience has increased since the first report of activity in 1995. As of 2004, the item's containment procedures have been dropped but it remains under constant observation. Recorded below are landmark events in its activity.

Timeline:
3.12.1995 - Woodstock resident reports the statue's eyes moving, first sign of activity
9.30.1995 - Statue shoots musket for the first time
10.9.1995 - Statue begins shooting birds from the sky
1.25.1996 - Registration as SCP-011, containment procedures begin
4.14.1997 - SCP-011 observed moving casually and looking around
5.3.2000 - After caretaker ████ ████████ jokingly shouts "Good shot!" to SCP-011, the item replies, "Thank you," in a reportedly very human voice, first speech from statue
10.22.2001 - SCP-011 has conversation with caretaker █████████ █████
2001 - Shooting of birds stops
2.6.2002 - At the imploring of █████████ █████, SCP-011 steps down from its pedestal
2003-2004 - SCP-011 reaches a human level of self-awareness
11.10.2004 - Containment procedures dropped, custody of SCP-011 transferred to █████████ █████
5.17.2005 - █████████ █████ reports that SCP-011 is romantically attracted to her
8.29.2006 - Most recent psych test reports an IQ of 133

« SCP-010 | SCP-011 | SCP-012 »
Item #: SCP-012
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-012 is to be kept in a darkened room at all times. If the object is exposed to light or seen by personnel using a light frequency other than infrared, remove personnel for mental health screening and immediate physical. Object is to be encased in an iron-shielded box, suspended from the ceiling with a minimum clearance of 2.5 m (8 ft) from the floor, walls, and any openings.
Description: SCP-012 was retrieved by Archaeologist K.M. Sandoval during the excavation of a northern Italian tomb destroyed in a recent storm. The object, a piece of handwritten musical score entitled "On Mount Golgotha", part of a larger set of sheet music, appears to be incomplete. The red/black ink, first thought to be some form of berry or natural dye ink, was later found to be human blood from multiple subjects. The first personnel to locate the sheet (Site 19 Special Salvage) had two (2) members descend into insanity, attempting to use their own blood to finish the composition, ultimately resulting in massive blood loss and internal trauma.
Following initial investigations, multiple test subjects were allowed access to the score. In every case, the subjects mutilated themselves in order to use their own blood to finish the piece, resulting in subsequent symptoms of psychosis and massive trauma. Those subjects who managed to finish a section of the piece immediately committed suicide, declaring the piece to be "impossible to complete". Attempts to perform the music have resulted in a disagreeable cacophony, with each instrumental part having no correlation or harmony with the other instruments.

« SCP-011 | SCP-012 | SCP-013 »
SCP-013

Item #: SCP-013
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-013 are to be kept in a Secure Storage Vault at Site-66. Exposed subjects are to be monitored for differences between their symptoms. Exposed subjects are to be interviewed daily, and any changes in perception are to be logged.
Description: SCP-013 is the collective designation of 242 cigarettes which display similar anomalies. The most common external detail between instances is the presence of the words “Blue Lady” hand-written on each cigarette in blue ink.
Subjects who consume the contents of SCP-013 through inhalation will begin to perceive themselves as a specific unidentified woman. Subjects have described the woman to be aged between 25 and 35 years old, standing approximately 1.6 metres tall with an estimated weight of between 50 and 55 kg. Additional recurring details include cropped dark hair, blue eyes, and bright blue lipstick.
Immediately after consuming an instance of SCP-013, subjects will gradually begin to perceive reflections of themselves as having the features of the woman, and will gradually perceive their bodies changing to reflect her appearance over the course of the following weeks. All changes are entirely mental; the subject's body does not change outwardly, only their perception of themselves. These alterations are permanent, and cannot be reversed.
SCP-013 was discovered after the suicide of an Ian Miles, packed in a large cardboard crate in his apartment. A cursory search of the apartment uncovered several hundred sketches of a figure strongly resembling the one perceived while under 013's effect. Miles' body had been found sitting at a desk, dead of a massive overdose and draped over a handwritten note, transcribed below.
During the investigation of Miles' apartment, one civilian investigator became affected by 013's effect. An embedded Agent soon contacted the nearest Site; the subject, the artifact, and related evidence were extracted and contained.
Currently, two hundred seventeen instances of SCP-013 cigarettes are contained at Bio-Site 66; twenty-five SCP-013 cigarettes are contained at Research Sector-09, pending future research into similar anomalous effects.
Addendum: Below is the note which was acquired along with SCP-013.

I see her everywhere. That sad blue lady.
I feel like I used to should know her but I can't remember. I love her but I don't know why. She's so beautiful and sweet and clear but I don't know any more.
her favourite flavour
where did you go
i miss you

« SCP-012 | SCP-013 | SCP-014 »
SCP-014 prior to initial confinement.

Item #: SCP-014
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-014 is to be kept in Site-██, in a chair with arms, preferably facing a window. Music should be supplied on a regular basis, preferably constantly. This music should not include pieces originating after 1937. A security camera should be present in SCP-014's room.
Description: SCP-014 is a Caucasian male, appearing to be approximately 30 years of age, with black hair, brown eyes, and a somewhat round face. Records indicate his name to be Robert Chetford, confined in 1915 to the Norwich Asylum in Connecticut for delusional insanity, claiming that he had been cursed to live forever, and was slowly turning into concrete in consequence. The asylum closed in 1937, and the patients were transferred to various other facilities. SCP-014 came to Foundation attention in 19██, from rumours of a patient who seemed to be entirely immobile and showed no signs of aging. Further investigation determined that acquisition was warranted.
SCP-014 is to all outward appearances a normal man, but he does not appear to age, and shows no signs of possessing a metabolism. He does not eat, drink, perspire, or in any other way demonstrate life functions. He breathes only to speak, and apart from his eyes and vocal apparatus, is to all appearances utterly immobile. He has never shown any evidence of pressure ulcers despite his position not having varied for several decades; neither do his muscles appear atrophied. He can converse normally, but shows little knowledge of or interest in events since his confinement.
Addendum:
Note: Frankly, were I to interview this man without knowing his history, I'd think he was a perfectly sane and well-adjusted individual who happens to be quadriplegic. As it is, I have to conclude that he's the ultimate proof of the idea that the mind rules the body. He thinks he's concrete, and will live forever, and so he's as close to both as he can be. Somehow.
-Dr. █████

« SCP-013 | SCP-014 | SCP-015 »
Interior View of SCP-015

Item #: SCP-015
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-015 is impossible to move, and is contained on-site. A gap of at least 2 m (6 ft) needs to be maintained around the entire structure containing SCP-015 at all times, and no structures of any kind are to make contact with SCP-015's current containment structure. Exploration is permissible, but only in teams of three (3) with full safety lines and GPS tracking. Any protrusions from SCP-015 must be capped and sealed immediately, with the new site recorded and logged.
No aggressive action is to be made within SCP-015. No hand or power tools are allowed anywhere inside SCP-015. No repairs or maintenance are to be made anywhere on SCP-015.
Description: SCP-015 is a mass of pipes, vents, boilers and other various plumbing apparatus completely filling a warehouse in ███████. The pipes appear to grow when not under observation, attempting to connect to nearby structures via sewer systems and underground plumbing. SCP-015 contains, at current estimate, over 190 kilometers (120 miles) of pipes, ranging in diameter from 2.5 cm to over 1 m. Some pipes appear new, while others are rusted and leaking. Pipes have been reported as being made of bone, wood, steel, pressed ash, human flesh, glass, and granite. No pipes composed of lead, PVC plastic, copper, or any other traditional material for the production of pipes have been found.
SCP-015 reacts to tools and aggression. Any personnel acting violently, carrying tools, or attempting to damage or repair SCP-015 in any way, will trigger a reaction. Any pipes near the subject will burst, spraying on the subject for several seconds before the flow suddenly stops. Pipes have been reported containing oil, mercury, rats, a species of insect not yet identified, ground glass, sea water, entrails, and molten iron. Pipes will continue to burst around the subject until death or retreat.
SCP-015 was cut back to its current structure after attaching to 11 other structures in the area. Currently, 11 personnel have been killed, and 20 more are still missing. Reports have been made of banging and screaming coming from within SCP-015.

« SCP-014 | SCP-015 | SCP-016 »
File footage of SCP-017

Item #: SCP-017
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-017 is contained in an acrylic glass cage, 100 cm by 50 cm by 50 cm, centrally suspended in a concrete room measuring 6 m by 6 m by 4 m. Attached to the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room are high-intensity arc lamp spotlights pointed directly at the acrylic cage, to ensure that SCP-017 is constantly exposed to light from every angle. Personnel assigned to the SCP-017 control room are to monitor the functionality of the spotlights and the emergency generator system and call for maintenance immediately upon knowledge of a burnt-out lamp or an issue with the generator.
The only circumstance under which personnel are allowed entrance is to replace lamps. Personnel entering the room are required to wear the designated full-body reflective suits, and must be cautioned not to step in front of functional spotlights.
Description: SCP-017 is a humanoid figure approximately 80 centimeters in height, anatomically similar to a small child, but with no discernible identifying features. SCP-017 seems to be composed of a shadowy, smoke-like shroud. No attempt to find any object beneath the shroud has been successful, but the possibility has not been ruled out.
SCP-017's reaction to shadows cast upon it is immediate and swift. SCP-017 leaps at the object casting the shadow and completely encloses it in its shroud, whereupon it returns to its normal size, leaving no trace of the object behind.
Additional Notes: Personnel with BETA clearance or higher should see also document #017-1.

« SCP-016 | SCP-017 | SCP-018 »
SCP-043, inside its sleeve.

Item #: SCP-043
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-043 requires no special containment, although it is recommended that SCP-043 not be used for purposes other than testing. A turntable is to be maintained in the same room for testing.
Description: SCP-043 appears to be a vinyl copy of "The White Album" by the Beatles; however, upon closer inspection, the record has no grooves. In spite of this, the record will play from start to finish regardless of the starting position of the needle.
When the twenty-ninth track is reached, instead of playing "Revolution 9", the disc stops spinning and faint breathing can be heard. Occasionally the entity responsible for the breathing will speak in a male voice. The entity will respond to questions and shows a profound encyclopedic knowledge of the music industry, musical theory, and obscure trivia about many bands and artists. However, the entity refuses to answer questions regarding The Beatles or its own personal details.
Inside the jacket, a small handwritten note was found, reading:

Limited Edition: 1/1
Thanks, John!
xxx

« SCP-042 | SCP-043 | SCP-044 »
Image capture of SCP-044 during an experiment titled "Upshot Knolte Ford Grable"

Item #: SCP-044
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: A constant stream of hydrogen ions, unbound oxygen atoms, and other trace free radicals emanate from the muzzle of SCP-044 at all times. Because of this, the docking stations of SCP-044 are to be well-ventilated to keep dangerous gases and moisture from accumulating. Muzzle coverings are to be fitted at all times to keep birds and small animals from investigating the large open barrel of SCP-044.
Addendum, ██/██/200█: As SCP-044 has not been involved in any significant incidents in the ██ years it has been held by the Foundation, SCP-044 has been reclassified as Safe.
Must I really define “significant incidents”? If containment procedures and standard safety protocols are followed, 44 appears to be no more dangerous than any other big ███████ gun. No, the Bear Incident does not count. –O5-██
Description: SCP-044 is a howitzer, secretly manufactured in the late stages of the Second World War by Krupp engineers, personally supervised by Albert Speer, German Minister of Armaments and War Production under Adolf Hitler. SCP-044 is unique not only because of its size (251,000 kg, or 251 metric tonnes), but also because it fires unconventional artillery using an atypical delivery method. Rather than having a breech for loading shells, the rear of the barrel is configured into a massive air-compression chamber. Any object or pile of objects that fits may be loaded into SCP-044's muzzle to be used as ammunition. Because of its size, SCP-044 must remain rail-mounted and requires two freight locomotives to move.
Researchers believe that SCP-044 weakens molecular and atomic bonds in any material loaded into its muzzle. However, the method by which SCP-044 affects molecular bonds is not known, due primarily to the numerous complex mechanisms that compose the housing and workings of SCP-044. In fact, some mechanisms appear useless and seem to do nothing other than spin or make noise, even when SCP-044 is not supplied with power. Both equipment and personnel have been lost while exploring the inside of SCP-044's barrel.
When SCP-044 is fired, all matter within its barrel is ejected at a high rate of speed as a glowing red slug, proportional in size to the amount of mass loaded into the muzzle. Upon striking a solid object or the ground, the slug explodes with a yield proportional to the mass of the original ammunition, at no less than a ███% mass-to-energy conversion rate. The yield will also increase somewhat the longer the slug remains in the barrel. The greatest known yield was achieved when 'The Administrator's' 8,900 kg (19,500 lb) personal diesel pickup truck was loaded in its entirety into the muzzle of SCP-044 and fired in the pictured "experiment."

« SCP-043 | SCP-044 | SCP-045 »
Item #: SCP-050
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: So far, all attempts to contain SCP-050 have proven fruitless1. At present, whoever has possession of SCP-050 is to leave it in an office they use with regularity2.
Description: SCP-050 appears to be a statue of a monkey reading a book, approximately 1 foot3 tall. On the bottom of the statue are engraved the words "To The Cleverest" in cursive script.
The statue has so far proven resistant to all forms of damage4. As such, there is no accurate method to date the object.
When left alone, SCP-050 has shown itself to be both useful and antagonistic to its current owner5. Although never seen to move, no matter the manner or amount of recordings, any room it is left in becomes very clean, to a polish whenever possible. Paperwork is filed, trash is emptied, and in general, clutter is removed. However, SCP-050 also has a tendency to leave traps for its owner, so current holders should carefully check their offices upon returning.

Footnotes
1. Testing to contain SCP-050 has been discontinued at this time.
2. Attempts to leave SCP-050 in unused offices have resulted in it following its owner home. This is a violation of regulations and not to be allowed.
3. One of the quirks of SCP-050 is that no matter what form of measurement is used, any record of said measurements will quickly be replaced by the Customary System measurements.
4. Attempts to damage SCP-050 have resulted in increasingly lethal 'pranks.' As of this writing, destruction testing is discontinued.
5. See Document 050.

« SCP-049 | SCP-050 | SCP-051 »
Item #: SCP-051
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-051 and SCP-051-A are to be kept in a sealed containment facility. SCP-051-A is kept within a locked, climate-controlled document box with a viewing window, to prevent degradation of its material. Any personnel (with the exception of pregnant or non-sterile female personnel, who might not be aware of an early-stage pregnancy) may access SCP-051 as long as a request is placed before-hand and cleared by site administration.
Description: SCP-051 is a 25 cm (10 in) anatomically correct model of a human female, carved out of ivory, with typically Asian features. Microscopic analysis shows that the head hair is human hair. The doll is jointed at the shoulders, hips, and knees. The 'stomach' area of the doll is fully removable as a 'cap' of ivory, exposing a detailed ribcage and organs, and a 2.5 cm (1 in) ivory fetus connected to the main figure by a leather cord umbilicus.
When brought into the presence of a pregnant human female, SCP-051 has various deleterious effects upon the pregnancy, generally resulting in miscarriage of the fetus. Reports include a gentle compulsion to handle the model, open its stomach cap and take out the fetus. This results in nausea and cramping within 5 minutes, vaginal bleeding that begins as spotting and may progress to hemorrhage within the next half-hour, and miscarriage within 2 - 24 hours in most recorded cases. Medical records indicate that the aborted fetuses bear moderate to severe defects. Pregnancies carried to term after exposure to the model have resulted in severely deformed live births, including ██ deaths of the mothers and ██ infants terminated after birth by the delivering physician (see interview 051-1 below). Witnesses to these live births showed signs of severe emotional trauma that was alleviated, after Foundation interviews, by administration of a Class A amnestic.
SCP-051-A is a fragment of text on rice paper that was discovered with SCP-051. The surviving text is written with plant-derived ink test-dated to the 12th century, and the characters have been identified as a known early dialect of Japanese. Translation reveals the text is part of a prayer or spell against 'demons' that attack unborn babies. The incantation orders these forces or demons into the model, instead of a pregnant woman, and claims to trap them there. However, centuries have degraded the paper and ink so that the full incantation and instructions, if any, cannot be deciphered.
Addendum: SCP-051 and SCP-051-A were discovered in a box of early Japanese artifacts delivered anonymously to the ██████████ Museum in 1938. After 60 years and a number of incidents resulting from contact by female secretaries, researchers, and students, an Agent on staff in the museum's archives learned of its properties and obtained it for Foundation study.
Interview 051-1

« SCP-050 | SCP-051 | SCP-052 »
SCP-053

Item #: SCP-053
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-053 is to be contained in an area no less than 5 m x 5 m (16 ft x 16 ft) and given adequate room to move. Toys, books, games, and other recreational devices are to be amply provided and rotated every three (3) months. Proper bedding, bathroom, and medical facilities are to be maintained at all times. Food should be provided three (3) times daily, and two (2) snacks are allowed if requested.
No physical contact is to be made with SCP-053 without full atmosphere-containment suit and eye shield. No eye contact is to be made with SCP-053 for any reason. Any objects given to personnel by SCP-053 may be removed, but must be given to quarantine for examination. Only one (1) member of personnel may be present in the room at any given time and must be secured by a safety line of steel cable. All personnel must be removed from SCP-053's containment chamber within 10 minutes of entering.
Any personnel who begin to act erratically, scream, or attempt to grab SCP-053 are to be removed and quarantined. Any personnel attempting to remove their suit are also to be removed and quarantined. No sharp objects or firearms are allowed in SCP-053's containment room.
Description: SCP-053 appears to be a small 3-year-old girl. She is capable of basic speech and appears to be slightly above average in mental development. She has a generally pleasant personality and rarely seems upset, becoming agitated only in the presence of groups of people.
Any and all humans over the age of three who make eye contact with, physically touch, or remain around SCP-053 for longer than 10 minutes will rapidly become irrational, paranoid, and homicidal. Most, if not all, of these feelings will be directed at SCP-053, and afflicted subjects will attempt to kill SCP-053 after first killing or driving off all humans visible to them. Those attempting to kill SCP-053 will suffer massive heart attacks or seizures and die seconds after doing any physical damage to SCP-053. SCP-053 will regenerate almost instantaneously from any wound, regardless of severity.
SCP-053 appears wholly ignorant of these effects, and ignores any and all subjects affected. When questioned about the effect, SCP-053 is incapable of response.

« SCP-052 | SCP-053 | SCP-054 »
Item #: SCP-063
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-063 is to be kept at all times within Dr. ████'s personal bathroom, located within the personnel quarters upon Site 19. Object is to be used as designed at least once in a twenty-four (24) hour period or the object will begin to emit an unknown specialized radiation that results in objects and material within a 0.6 m (2 ft) radius being slowly warped and eventually disintegrating into a fine dust. Radiation's effect on living test subjects has not been monitored.
Description: SCP-063 appears to be an average, pale blue toothbrush. Stenciled along the side of the object are the words “The World's Best TothBrush [sic]”. The word "toothbrush" is spelled incorrectly, though whether this was accidental or a purposeful action by the creators of the object is unknown. SCP-063 displays the ability to effortlessly cleave through any and all dead or inorganic matter, the focal point of this ability being the bristles. However, matter touched by the bristles is not separated, such as by way of a knife, but completely expunged from existence, leaving no trace whatsoever. This mode of operation is reminiscent of SCP-2207, suggesting the two anomalies share a connection or were created by the same entity or entities. Additionally, subjects who have used SCP-063 have claimed that the experience left their teeth feeling remarkably clean. In spite of its extraordinary abilities, lab analysis has discerned that SCP-063 is completely made of common plastic.
Addendum: SCP-063 was originally found in St. Petersburg, on the person of █████████, a thief working in the area using SCP-063's abilities to crack safes. When questioned about the object, subject professed ignorance, claiming that he simply “found” the object one day. Questioning of the subject continued, until he took his own life. His reason for doing this is, as of yet, unknown.

« SCP-062 | SCP-063 | SCP-064 »
SCP-075. Photo by Dr. Takeshi Yamada.

Item #: SCP-075
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-075 is contained in a 1 m x 1 m x 1 m Level-4 corrosion-resistant container, which must be contained in a secure chamber with equal corrosion resistance. The absolute humidity of the chamber may not exceed 1% at any time. Medicinal-grade desiccants must be available at all times in order to maintain this level of humidity. If the humidity of SCP-075's chamber ever exceeds 1%, all personnel are to be evacuated immediately and the site will be locked down until the humidity is reduced to acceptable levels.
All personnel who enter SCP-075's containment chamber must wear MOPP Level 4 protection. Injection tests, as well as any test which involves an aqueous solution, are strictly forbidden. If any such solution comes into contact with SCP-075, the area will be immediately locked down and flooded with desiccant until the humidity is brought back to acceptable levels. Evacuation of personnel remaining in the area is prohibited.
Description: SCP-075 resembles a large snail 20 cm in length, 13 cm in width, and 15 cm in height, with a muscular foot resembling a six-fingered, clawed hand. SCP-075 is exceptionally heavy, with a mass of approximately 860 kg, a property that is not understood. Desiccation is the only known means of containing SCP-075, as it will enter a dormant state when nearly completely dry.
When not desiccated, SCP-075 moves at incredible speeds for its size and mass. It adopts the behavior of a predator, jumping at and drenching its prey in a highly caustic base solution secreted from pores on its foot. These secretions are more corrosive than any substance known to terrestrial science. Due to SCP-075's aggressive behavior when active, this compound cannot be harvested. No material completely resistant to its corrosive power has been found.
Addendum 075-F: Attempts to harvest SCP-075's secretions must be approved and supervised by all on-site Level 4 personnel. However, approval of said personnel cannot override the standing order to not introduce any liquid solution to SCP-075, including its own secretions.
Addendum 075-G: A cup of SCP-075's secretions was successfully harvested by using SCP-294. Testing is underway to determine what substances, if any, are immune to its corrosion. Testing is also underway to determine why the cup provided by SCP-294 is immune to the substance's effects.

« SCP-074 | SCP-075 | SCP-076 »
Figure A: Still frame taken from video footage of Exploration I

Item #: SCP-087
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-087 is located on the campus of [REDACTED]. The doorway leading to SCP-087 is constructed of reinforced steel with an electro-release lock mechanism. It has been disguised to resemble a janitorial closet consistent with the design of the building. The lock mechanism on the doorknob will not release unless ██ volts are applied in conjunction with counter-clockwise rotation of the key. The inside of the door is lined with 6 centimeters of industrial foam padding.
Due to the results of the final exploration (see Document 087-IV), no personnel are permitted access to SCP-087.
Description: SCP-087 is an unlit platform staircase. Stairs descend on a 38 degree angle for 13 steps before reaching a semicircular platform of approximately 3 meters in diameter. Descent direction rotates 180 degrees at each platform. The design of SCP-087 limits subjects to a visual range of approximately 1.5 flights. A light source is required for any subjects exploring SCP-087, as there are no lighting fixtures or windows present. Lighting sources brighter than 75 watts have shown to be ineffective, as SCP-087 seems to absorb excess light.
Subjects report and audio recordings confirm the distressed vocalizations from what is presumed to be a child between the ages of █ and ██. The source of the distress calls is estimated to be located approximately 200 meters below the initial platform. However, any attempts to descend the staircase have failed to bring subjects closer to the source. The depth of descent calculated from Exploration IV, the longest exploration, is shown to be far beyond both the possible structure of both the building and geological surroundings. At this time, it is unknown if SCP-087 has an endpoint.

Figure B: SCP-087-1; Enhanced image from still taken from Exploration I.

SCP-087 has undergone four video recorded explorations by Class-D personnel. Each subject conducting an exploration has encountered SCP-087-1, which appears as a face with no visible pupils, nostrils, or mouth. The nature of SCP-087-1 is entirely unclear, but it has been determined that it is not the source of the pleading. Subjects exhibit feelings of intense paranoia and fear when faced with SCP-087-1, but it is undetermined whether said feelings are abnormal or simply natural reactions.
Addendum:
Over a period of 2 weeks following Exploration IV, several members of the staff and students from the [REDACTED] campus reported knocking at a variable rate of 1-2 seconds per knock coming from the interior of SCP-087. The door leading to SCP-087 has been fitted with 6 centimeter thick industrial padding. All reports of knocking have ceased.
Authorized personnel may refer to documents 087-I through 087-IV for transcripts of Explorations I - IV.
Document 087-I
Document 087-II
Document 087-III
[DATA EXPUNGED]

« SCP-086 | SCP-087 | SCP-088 »
Item #: SCP-091
Object Class: Anomalous Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-091 is to be stored in a standard containment locker at Site-██. When SCP-091 is not being tested, it is to be placed under combination lock. Since SCP-091 has shown no signs of resistance to tearing or damage greater than that of normal cardboard, great care should be taken when transporting it to and from testing sites.
During testing, no one other than the subject should view SCP-091. Those suspected of having seen SCP-091 are to be administered Class-B amnestics immediately, and all personal recordings or images in the possession of the subject—both print and digital—are to be destroyed to prevent recurrence.
Description: SCP-091 is a “Scotties” brand tissue box, currently empty. Immediately upon observing SCP-091, viewers report an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Those affected begin reminiscing about times they “were near” SCP-091, major events that occurred while it was present, or people and places that somehow relate to it.
SCP-091 was originally recorded as an anomalous item and sent to Reliquary Site-44, until one of the members of the recovery team, Assistant Researcher ████—while viewing a recording of her wedding from 199█—noted SCP-091 in the background of the film and noted a strong flood of nostalgic memories attached to it, including:

Memories of SCP-091 at the wedding itself.
Memories of SCP-091 at the reception.
Memories of SCP-091 during the honeymoon.

A further interview with Assistant Researcher ████'s ex-husband demonstrated that he too remembered SCP-091 in all of those places and situations, again noting strong feelings of nostalgia and fondness for it. Further investigation found that several people who attended the wedding remember SCP-091 being there and the emotional effect. Others were asked to describe the wedding itself without being informed of SCP-091. In these cases, they described the scene without including SCP-091, until they were questioned about it directly. At that time, they immediately underwent the same, previously observed effect.
Continued testing under other situations has continued to produce similar results. Administration of amnestics has proven ineffective at stopping the effect if the subject is allowed to view an image or recording of SCP-091.
Of note is the fact that in each recorded instance of SCP-091, the box pictured is full of tissues.

« SCP-090 | SCP-091 | SCP-092 »
Item #: SCP-094
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Since SCP-094 is apparently immovable, a research and containment facility has been built around its location (centered at 4█.██████°S, 6█.██████°W) in the guise of an Argentinian military research base. No unauthorized persons or aircraft may come within one kilometer of the site, enforced by joint SCP and Argentinian forces.
SCP-094 itself is enclosed in a gas-permeable steel-reinforced plexiglass cube, 3 meters on a side, with a single door (also of reinforced plexiglass) in one side. This door must remain locked at all times, except with O5 authorization under tightly controlled conditions. This cube is kept in the center of a 20 m x 20 m room, accessible with Level-4 authorization. All personnel must secure themselves to tethers anchored to the walls before stepping onto the floor of the room. Security personnel are to be armed with tranquilizer guns in addition to standard armaments.
Description: SCP-094 appears to be a perfectly black sphere, 163 cm in diameter, suspended approximately 3 m off the ground with no apparent means of support. SCP-094 has been classified as a miniature event horizon: any matter that moves into SCP-094, including light, is irretrievably gone. However, SCP-094 is not a black hole since it does not exert a gravitational pull.
SCP-094 has been known to occasionally emit a number of different sounds, including ambient sounds of nature, static buzzing, and sometimes human speech. No attempts to communicate with SCP-094 have yet succeeded. It is unknown whether these sounds come from SCP-094 itself, from some thing or things inside of SCP-094, or from some area that connects through SCP-094. A small percentage of persons appear to be drawn to SCP-094 because of the sounds it emanates.
SCP-094 was discovered in 192█ in the Chubut Province of southern Argentina, and at the time was estimated to be 20 to 25 cm in diameter. Analysis of historical records indicates that the diameter of SCP-094 doubles in size approximately every 31 years. Primary research activities on SCP-094 are concentrated on finding how to stop or reverse its growth without inducing cataclysmic failure.
Addendum: The hand on SCP-1032 designated SCP-1032-15 will achieve its "midnight event" on 09/04/2690, approximately the same date as SCP-094 will fully engulf the Earth at its current rate of expansion.
Note: A few millimeters a month may not seem like much, and no, at the moment you cannot see SCP-094 change day to day, but if it continues its exponential growth, in less than two hundred fifty years it will be a kilometer wide, including vertically. And that is assuming it does not grow even faster, which is an assumption that almost no one here makes. - Dr. Llewelyn-Garcia

« SCP-093 | SCP-094 | SCP-095 »
Item #: SCP-099
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-099 is kept in a 1 m x 75 cm wall-mounted, fireproof case in Gallery 27. Standard climate and humidity controls apply to this section of the Gallery. Due to its properties, SCP-099 can only be viewed within the gallery by Level 2 staff or higher, and only from a distance greater than five meters and for a period not to exceed five minutes per day. When not being viewed, the case is to remain shut and electronically locked.
Description: SCP-099 is a 73 x 50 cm painting titled "The Portrait." Created in 1935 by surrealist painter René Magritte, the original painting possesses memetic properties that trigger acute paranoia and lingering psychological effects when viewed for too long or from a distance of approximately three meters or less. The painting depicts a simple still life, with the addition of a single eye staring back at the viewer.
A reproduction of the work currently hangs in the Museum of Modern Art in New York, with critical elements removed to prevent the paranoia trigger. For a detailed description of the changes, refer to Document 099b. Detailed reproductions and photographs of the original work retain its memetic properties.
Those who have viewed the painting for too long or from too close of a distance become subject to the delusion that any being or depiction of a being with eyes is staring at them. In extreme cases, subjects report that inanimate objects are making eye contact.
The condition is so severe that subjects will even report making eye contact with individuals whose heads are completely turned away. Depending on the length of the original exposure to the painting, subjects may suffer from this condition until death, resulting in severe paranoia and enochlophobia.
Addendum: SCP-099 was recovered from the private collection of Kay Sage, another surrealist painter. Recovery was performed by MTF Theta-6 "Pink Panther." Mrs. Sage was unaware of the recovery and replacement of SCP-099, although pre-recovery investigation suggests she was aware of its properties and was either immune or careful not to look too closely.
Magritte was still alive at the time SCP-099 was stored in Gallery 27. He remained under Foundation surveillance until his death in 1967. Research suggests that the painting's memetic trigger was intentionally created, although the effect and power of the trigger was likely unintentional. The Foundation has studied the rest of Magritte's work and found no anomalous memetic properties to this date.
Weaponized Replication: [DATA EXPUNGED]

« SCP-098 | SCP-099 | SCP-100 »