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F.A.Q.

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SCP-5689.

Item Number: 5689
Object Class/Clearance: Euclid/Four
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5689 is to be cordoned off and removed from local route guidance systems and maps. References to SCP-5689 are to be scrubbed from all media. Two guards are to be posted outside SCP-5689 at all times, and maintenance is regularly performed to ensure the stability of the SEA-CM1 at all times.
The SEA-CM is to remain powered up at all times, with regular repairs and system updates. In the event of a SEA-CM overheat, first priority is to ensure there is nothing that exits SCP-5689. Use of any-means-necessary operations are authorized for this purpose.
Description: SCP-5689 is a former farmhouse in unincorporated Edmonton, Canada. Intensive searches led to a lack of any identification of an owner, thus making it likely to have been abandoned for a considerable amount of time. SCP-5689's structure mainly consists of rotting wood and rusting metal. The road to the farmhouse shows similar signs of neglect, containing many potholes and ditches. The front door displays a placard that is mostly scratched out. On the placard, a section reading "Of Abnor" is the only legible portion remaining.
In an approximately 20 meter radius around SCP-5689, no plant life is capable of growing; weeds, old-growth trees, and other types have all died of an unknown blight shortly after being replanted near the farmhouse. Remaining within this radius causes stomach issues such as nausea and indigestion. Reports have stated such effects compound in severity the closer a subject is to the fourth room of SCP-5689.
The farmhouse contains five rooms, of which four are accessible. No item inside any room is capable of leaving SCP-5689 via physical means.
The first has an extensive pulley and pipe system connected to a large machine which bears resemblance to a blender. Touching the blade of the machine triggers visual and auditory hallucinations, reported by subjects to be similar to the following transcript.

[Nothing can be seen. The entire room is entirely black.]
Unknown Voice: Fuck this. I can't handle it anymore.
[Sounds of paper flapping and metal striking wood can be heard.]
Unknown Voice 2: We did it.
[Subjects' view is replaced with a grainy, black-and-white view of the room, which appears frozen in time. A figure can be seen standing over a number of papers flying off a desk. Another is in the doorway, holding a large tube with an unknown liquid in its hand.]

A microscope is present on a desk near the blender. The view from its lenses is heavily clouded, and snow has entered through a small hole in the roof.
The second has a large network of pipes set into the walls. These connect various rooms in the house, only to meet at a central hub set up with a computer terminal on a desk. No other furniture is in the room. Faded papers and canine bones are laid haphazardly around, implying they were tossed or thrown. Upon touching the terminal for the first time, subjects will experience visual and auditory hallucinations of the following transcript, before returning to normal.

[Only darkness can be seen. A clink can be heard, followed by a sip of an unknown liquid.]
Unknown Voice: We lost another.
Unknown Voice 2: Another? How many is that?
Unknown Voice: Seventy-eight now.
Unknown Voice 2: It's not fair. No one's going to know.
Unknown Voice: But that's how it has to be. We'll keep trying until it's perfect. Everyone will be so much better with him.
[The darkness dissipates, replaced with a grainy and blurry filter, entirely in black and white, preventing detailed viewing of the hallucination, which has stopped moving. Two faded, humanoid figures can be seen sitting on unseen chairs near the terminal, which is idling on a log-in screen. One holds a bottle in its hand.]

The keyboard of the terminal appears recently used, due to a lack of dust and cobwebs compared to the rest of the room. Many keys are missing or broken. Barks and whimpers of dogs can be heard throughout the room, which increase in volume when the remains are touched.
The third has innumerable masses of faded, orange-black slime strewn about the walls and floor of the room, which smells of rotting meat. Two desks are the only furniture in the room. Each has a series of small, sealed, and translucent tubes filled with a similar slime, which attempts to avoid touch when the glass is tapped or held. This slime slightly lessens the emotional effects of the farmhouse itself. Each tube is connected to a large pipe system, which connects to the large machine in the previous room. A number of children's toys are on the floor; they are soiled. A wooden train track set, arranged in a long and winding loop, is on the floor, with arrows crudely carved into it. Slime follows the trail of arrows around the track.
The fourth is inaccessible. Touching the rusted, dented door produces an intense smell of rotting meat and rusted metal. Putting an ear to the door produces the sounds of a faint ticking, running water, wet thumps, screams, and hushed sobs. A prototype SEA-CM system is attached to the door. A small label is affixed to it, reading "NE_ATI_E SINK."
The fifth consists of a small entrance to an attic. The latch, chains, and opening mechanisms are made out of beryllium bronze, and are forced shut due to a congealed slime similar to that in the third room. Moving closer to the attic causes conflicting feelings of dread, anxiety, fear, and anger in subjects. Attempting to open the latch leads to loud, guttural gurgling noises to be produced from the ceiling.
Worm-like, reptilian masses of slime with pseudopod-like limbs will then seep from cracks in the ceiling. These fall to the floor, splitting and recombining in an amoeboid fashion. The masses frequently attempt to separate themselves from their limbs, and hiss and recoil from human touch. Eventually, these masses either tear themselves apart, or are eaten by local insects following a series of struggles. Both outcomes result in death of the masses. No mass has survived longer than 30 minutes.
Reports of a smokelike, serpentine creature have been filed, though no sightings have been confirmed.

Footnotes
1. Subdual of Emotional Anomaly Control Matrix

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