Item#: 6887

Level2

Containment Class:
safe

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
dark

Risk Class:
danger

link to memo

Estate housing SCP-6887-1 and the apartment housing SCP-6887.

Special Containment Procedures: Room 279 and the estate that houses SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1 are to be housed by agents Aarya Mubarak and André Granger. Both agents are to report in every ten days and are to report any shifts in SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1's nature if such a shift occurs. Both agents must regularly attend mandatory health check-ups by medical personnel, and if any damage to their well-being is found they must be swapped out. If agents Mubarak or Granger are found to be using SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1 in a case other than an emergency, they are to be swapped out and reprimanded by the order of Dr. Vander. If Dr. Vander is unavailable, another personnel with higher or equivalent clearance must intervene
Description: SCP-6887 is an ornate glass wall mirror currently residing in room 279 of the Lower Manhattan apartment complex. When certain requirements are met, the glass mirror will change from the view inside room 279 to a different view in a room in a residence in Paris, activating SCP-6887-1, a similar glass wall mirror. Both mirror users will be able to communicate until another amount of requirements is needed to cease SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1's effect.
SCP-6887 is only dangerous to an individual after being used for a certain amount of time. Estimations vary amongst individuals, however, it is speculated that using the mirror for ten days or more will result in health deficiencies and thereafter expiry of the individual due to health issues. Further research into the reasons for these health issues is still ongoing.
Discovery: In 1990, the previous occupant of room 279, Grace Howe, discovered a journal hidden in the drawer just below the mirror. The journal described the creation and use of both SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1 and how to use it. Without investigating any further, Ms. Howe fulfilled the requirements, and SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1 were both activated.
Ms. Howe was able to come in contact with the owner of the estate, François Lefurgey, and was able to communicate using her skill in the French language. Both Ms. Howe and Mr. Lefurgey came into contact with their local news stations, however, the Foundation received information about the two anomalies and was able to use disinformation to stop belief of SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1, claiming it was a hoax. Both Ms. Howe and Mr. Lefurgey were administered Class-B amnestics and evicted from their respective residences.
Further research into room 279 showed that on December 7th, 1868, the decomposing body of a young man was found inside the room against the dresser. Research into the residence in France shows something similar as well, as another young man was found dead next to the mirror in his quarters the same day.
Addendum: The journal of Henry Newman was recovered from Ms. Howe and taken to Site-28 for examination. Entries dating from 1867 to 1868 were discovered, however, only a few could be examined and read due to the state of the journal, and entries that have been deemed irrelevant to the factors of SCP-6887 and SCP-6887-1 have been omitted for brevity.

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June 4th, 1868.

It is so difficult to get in contact with Théo. All these letters I've been sending him. I hope he doesn't mind it, and I hope it doesn't clutter his postal services. The wait and the anticipation are the worst part of it. It's been so long since I've seen him. I truly wish there was a faster way to communicate with him rather than having to waste ink, paper, and time. However, if it is just to hear from him again, I will waste everything.

June 10th, 1868.

I received a letter back from Théo. He seems to be doing well and was sorry that he couldn't write back quicker. He said he was dealing with the family business and such things like that. I feel sorrow for him. It must be such a weight to have to carry knowing that you must carry your family legacy. Even if said legacy is creating wine so people may forget their quarrels, only to suffer more in a drunken stupor. Though, if wine could assist in forgetting about the loss of my brother and father to the war, I likely would partake in that sin as well.

However, there was something interesting, he told me. He said he might be able to find a way of getting us in contact with each other, and a way in which I can see him. He says he'll have to talk to one of his friends, and that he'll get back to me as soon as he can. I'm curious on what he's talking about.

June 15th, 1868.

Théo has found us a way to get in contact. Though I must say, the way of communication is rather unorthodox. He listed in his last note the things required for this way of communication to be done, and it seems otherworldly. However, it is also strangely easy to do. All you have to do is [DATA EXPUNGED] and you'll be able to talk to the other person. I hope this works.

June 16th, 1868.

I can't believe it truly worked! It seemed magical, almost. The way the mirror became foggy and seemingly withdrawn from my world, and then, I was peering into Théo's. It was so good to see his face again. That beautiful hair and wonderful smile of his. We talked for hours, about life, about us. Eventually, Théo spoke about trying to find some ways to improve this mirror and its capabilities. I suppose if we can't be seen in public, and he's across the world, what else shall we do to speak to one another?

September 26th, 1868.

Hello, journal. My apologies for keeping you waiting for so long. Much of my time has been spent speaking with Théo. It has been so wonderful. He told me he was able to come into contact with some people that would help improve the mirror. Likely anomalously so. It sounded like his friends who helped originally didn't wish for him to do anything more with the mirror. The improvements would allow us to see each other more clearly through the gaze of the mirror (as it originally was quite foggy), and something else Théo spoke about. I wasn't quite listening, sadly. Théo can be rather distracting, and I had a lot on my mind. I will continue to observe these improvements.

November 3rd, 1868.

The improvements went well, by the looks of it. I can see my beautiful Théo even better than I could have before. I am still unsure as to why his colleagues didn't want him to further better the mirror, but I do not care. As long as I can see Théo, all is well. It still irks me, however. If it helps people get in contact better, why not use it? I mean, all you have to do to use and improve it is [DATA EXPUNGED].

November 13th, 1868.

Théo looked rather ill today. I suggested he go to the doctor's office, but he insisted he was fine. He said I looked rather pale today. I'm not sure if that was him saying I looked sickly as well, or an insult for insisting he was ill. Either way, I hope he's okay.

November 23rd, 1868.

Théo's health seems to be getting worse. He's been coughing a lot during our times using the mirror, and he got a nosebleed yesterday. I particularly don't feel all too well, either. But it is Theo I am truly worried about. Théo said he'd look into the source of our ailment, whatever that means.

November 25th, 1868.

I understand now why his friends shunned such improvements for the mirror. Théo has discovered that it is the sole reason for our illness. Faulty magic, or something along those lines. It's too late to prevent it from how much we've been using it. I don't care. I just want Théo to be okay, yet time and time again he insists that he is fine.

December 3rd, 1868.

My lovely Théo. He doesn't even look like himself anymore. That face that I had felled in love with is now pale and sickly, his beautiful green eyes now sunken into his skull. He looks so frail. I damn myself for not being able to assist him, for not being able to do something. Is this god's punishment? Taking away the only thing I cared for? I will give my own life if it means Theo can remain.

December 5th, 1868.

I'm so scared. Everything hurts. It is nearly impossible for me to move without feeling pain as my brittle bones ache. I sat down in front of the mirror and talked with Théo all day. He seemed abstract. Gone from our world. I had to bring his attention back several times.

I asked Théo one question. Would people mourn or miss us if we were gone? He replied 'Of course, they would. You're a good person, Henry, and you have many who adore you. My family will mourn me, but I am only one child out of several. I'm sorry for getting you into this, Henry.' I felt my heart ache, yet I was too tired to even cry anymore. I sensed Théo felt the same way. I don't care if we go to heaven or hell. I just want to be in his warm embrace. Théo told one of his friends to fulfill the ritual after we pass, to close the mirror. I suppose I cannot blame him. This magic is foul and no one else should suffer the same fate.

To anyone who will read or find this, know that we were real. That we were here. That what happened happened. That we were real people, with real dreams, and real goals, just like you. Please, don't forget us. And please don't forget Théo. I shall hide this journal away in the compartment below the dresser, in hopes nobody discovers it.

December 7th, 1868

Théo died this afternoon.

The light in my life has gone. But I am off to see him.

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