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Image: Poster from the Auckland War Memorial Museum. "Planetarium. Theatre of the Stars", viewing of Halley's Comet in 1986.
I'd like to thank the following critters for giving my their time and dedication to seeing this played out on the big planetarium screen - JorgeMtzb, Zoobeeny, RadiantGold, Dr Blackbox, colly1323, ambyshframber, DrMindbender. All of you are the reason this has seen the light of day, and I owe you my life!
⚠️ Content warning: References to suicidal ideation, insanity, isolation, and general depressive themes.


⚠️ content warning  

The orbital period of the planet Mercury is 87.97 days

Item #: SCP-7218
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: The Hilliard Planetarium and Astronomy Museum has been shut down, and a fortified chain-link fence constructed around the perimeter. Foundation personnel are to continually monitor footage for breach of perimeter. Any personnel who enter an orbital cycle event are to be considered "lost".
Description: SCP-7218 is a phenomenon that occurs when an individual enters the main showing room of the Hilliard Planetarium and Astronomy Museum in Hilliard, Ohio alone.
The interior of the room occupies a separate reality to baseline. Upon entering the room, it is still possible for the subject to return to their former reality provided they do not enter an Orbital Cycle. During an Orbital Cycle Event,time passes faster within the alternate reality, with a ratio of one year per hour in baseline reality.
In addition, direct contact with subject becomes impossible, with signals being able to be received by those outside the anomaly, but not subjects within, effectively isolating anyone inside. As of now, the only known way to trigger an event is by standing on the speaker's platform inside.
SCP-7218 was discovered after several disappearances of citizens within the area. The Foundation began an investigation using D-Class personnel, which confirmed an anomalous effect, with a 40% return rate. As of 1.5.17, all testing has been ceased. [SEE ADDENDUM-1]

+ Addendum-1

- Close

On 7.10.16, Researcher Madison Turnpike was deployed into SCP-7218 in an attempt to gather data about the interior mechanics. Turnpike underwent psychological and physical evaluations beforehand, and was found to be in acceptable health. Before entering, Turnpike was fitted with standard exploration equipment, including a radio and video monitor attached to her, as well as a location tracking device. At 9:30 AM, EST, Turnpike entered SCP-7218. Communication has become impossible as of 7.23.16.

VIDEO LOG

7.10.16:
NOTE: The following is compiled video footage received by Site 403 Command.

[BEGIN LOG]
Video begins on the hallway of the planetarium. Main lights have been turned off, though emergency lights have been activated to offer limited visibility. Researcher Sam Leviticus is visible, helping adjust Researcher Turnpike's equipment.
COMMAND: This is Site 403 Director Moira Fersnby, acting as Command. Researcher, can you state your name for me?
TURNPIKE: Dr. Madison Turnpike, at your service.
COMMAND: Good. Audio feed seems to be working.
TURNPIKE: Great!
LEVITICUS: Does that mean she's ready to go?
COMMAND: Yes. Proceed through the doors.
Turnpike turns away from Researcher Leviticus, and takes a moment to breath, before entering the showing room. When the doors shut behind her, the feed experiences a spike in disruption, followed by a five second period of radio silence. The feed shows a large darkened room, with rows of empty seats leading to a domed screen at the front. A black lectern stands in the front. A few dim floor lights line the ramps along the sides.
COMMAND: Dr. Turnpike? Is everything alright?
TURNPIKE: Yeah! Sorry, Moira. Just a small cut-out.
COMMAND: No worries. Can you describe your surroundings for me?
TURNPIKE: Of course. Uh, looks like a planetarium, I guess. Black carpet, lots of seats. A screen, too.
A pause, as Turnpike looks around.
TURNPIKE: No overhead lights. Don't see a projector either. Dangit. Would've loved to mess around with some anomalous tech. Did you catch that gun thing-y I worked on the other day? Levi says they wanna share the design around with some of the other people in the CDED.1
COMMAND: Well, that's certainly impressive.
TURNPIKE: Yeah, I- actually, I'll save it till' I'm out. You said there's something here that people have a 60% chance of encountering, right?
COMMAND: That was the consensus.
TURNPIKE: Well… I'm not really seeing anything. You guys sure this is even the anomaly?
COMMAND: Yes. In fact, as of now, the tracking equipment is informing us that your current location is not on Planet Earth.
A brief pause.
TURNPIKE: …Well that's a comfort and a joy.
COMMAND: Right. Now, will you please proceed towards the back of the room and make your way through the aisles? We want to observe how physics and movement operates.
TURNPIKE: Sure thing.
Turnpike begins to walk.
TURNPIKE: There's some posters on the walls - should I try to get one?
COMMAND: That might be a good idea. Give me a moment.
A long pause. Researcher Maddie Simes joins the channel.2
MADDIE: You called, Moira?
COMMAND: Yes, we're doing an inspection. I was hoping you could give Dr. Turnpike instruction on fiber collection.
TURNPIKE: Oh. Simes. Hello. Why're you here?
MADDIE: Because I'm the head of the Chemistry department.
TURNPIKE: Ah… right.
MADDIE: Right.
A moment of silence passes.
MADDIE: … let's get to work. Turnpike, there's a scalpel in your side pouch. Get it out.
TURNPIKE, stiffly: Got it. Thank you.
MADDIE: You're welcome… Madison.
COMMAND: Simes, let's avoid first names for the time being. It might be confusing considering.
TURNPIKE, muttered: Thank god…
MADDIE: Cut a square sample and bag it. Use tweezers, don't touch it with your gloves. And make sure the bag is airtight.
Turnpike uses the scalpel to cut a roughly square-shaped sample from one of the seats. The fabric is dark blue. Samples were never successfully retrieved, but the appearance seems to be velvet.
TURNPIKE: Got it.
MADDIE: Really? Show me, I want to make sure-
TURNPIKE: I've been working here for four years, I can handle this.
MADDIE: The bag isn't all the way sealed.
TURNPIKE: -I was about to fix that!
MADDIE: Moira, I'd like to recommend that we avoid asking the engineering department to help in the future.
COMMAND: Thank you for the input, Simes. Turnpike, keep moving through the rows. Let's limit talking to the task at hand, please.
Dr. Simes and Dr. Turnpike both apologise semi-intelligibly. Turnpike moving through each row, and stopping periodically to comment on the environment.
TURNPIKE: You wanted me to take down one of the posters as well, right?
MADDIE: Yes. Turn the camera toward one of them, so I can see it.
TURNPIKE: Here.
Turnpike points the camera towards a patch of wall with a poster. Size estimate is 2'x1'
COMMAND: Can you describe what you see, please?
TURNPIKE: Uh, yeah. It's tan, with a picture on it of a… god, is that an comet or a meteor? It has a caption - "Halley's Comet. Saturday Only." Okay, comet then.

MADDIE: That wouldn't make sense, given that the comet was last seen in 1986.
TURNPIKE, sarcastic: Really? I never would've guessed.
COMMAND: Can you remove it?
TURNPIKE: Sure.
Turnpike uses the scalpel to cut away the edges of the poster and carefully attempt to remove it. However, the paper seems stuck to the wall.
TURNPIKE: I think this might rip if I pull any harder. What should I do?
COMMAND: See if there's another one, and try with that one. Maybe a newer looking one?
TURNPIKE: Got it.
She walks down the hallway, before finding another poster.
TURNPIKE: Here - this one's blue, has.. Pisces, right? "Drama Of The Heavens."

COMMAND: Alright. Try and remove it.
Turnpike attempts to remove the picture. It once again fails. Halfway through, Turnpike pauses.
TURNPIKE: Hold on- there's something here. At the bottom.
COMMAND: Show me.
TURNPIKE: It says "Lightspeed Incorporated". Looks like it was added in later.
COMMAND: Interesting. I'll do a database scan and see if it comes up with anything. Keep looking. Head towards the front.
TURNPIKE: Alright.
A long pause. Nobody speaks
TURNPIKE: Something's definitely not… God, don't know how to describe it…. It's like I've had my stomach turned to liquid. My head hurts.
COMMAND: Are you compromised?
TURNPIKE: I… She inhales deeply No. I can do this.
MADDIE: Really? Perhaps you should leave and let someone more qualified handle this later.
TURNPIKE: No. I'll finish sweeping the room first. After all, it's what any capable, qualified researcher would do.
COMMAND, uncertain: …Alright. Let us know if you need any assistance.
TURNPIKE: Got it.
Turnpike heads back towards the platform at the front, climbing the carpeted steps. Upon reaching the top, she pauses. A pre-recorded, feminine voice starts to speak.

The orbital period of the planet Mercury is 87.97 days

TURNPIKE: Jesus- there's a voice, now. I can hear it.
Site command attempts to respond, but the connection seems to be impaired.
COMMAND: Madison. Can you hear us? Say something.
TURNPIKE: … hello?
MADDIE: Don't think she can reach us.
VOICE: Welcome to the Planetarium. We now will be beginning the slideshow. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy the time left. This is forever.
TURNPIKE: Are you still there? Shit.
At this point, the audio feed cut out, though the visual feed remained operational. On the screen, a slideshow starts. The image is a large picture of Mercury. Slowly, a teal coloured bar begins to appear around it, as if a timer was counting up.
COMMAND: Dammit.
MADDIE: What do we do? Leave her there?
COMMAND: No. I'm going to consult with Dr. Levi. You stay here and monitor things.
MADDIE: But- I don't-
COMMAND: I'm your boss, Maddie, and Madison is your coworker. Now make sure my best engineer doesn't die.
Site Director Moira leaves the room.
MADDIE: Shit.
A few seconds pass
MADDIE: Why do you always get involved every time something in my life is going wrong? Moira's pissed at me. You're in trouble. And it's my fault.
Silence.
MADDIE: If you could just mind your own business, maybe this wouldn't have happened.
At this point, the bar reached halfway completion of its cycle, and the audio resumed.
TURNPIKE: Exploration Notes: I can't move my legs. [noticeably tense] I think I'm stuck here, until this timer ends. However long that may be. At least… this one is going pretty fast. Sort of. I'm not sure if- well, if this is still broadcasting at all- whether you can hear it too. I think I'm going to… talk though. Just until this ends.
MADDIE: Jesus- hang on- shit. Where's Moira?
Turnpike sighs
TURNPIKE: And if you're listening, Maddie, just know I absolutely think this is your fault.
MADDIE: Rude.
TURNPIKE: Y'know, my wife likes to make fun of me for talking to myself, but she's worse: she sings to herself. Not quietly, either. I once listened to her belt the Phantom Of The Opera duet while cooking dinner. Which somehow made me love her more, I think.
A few seconds pass
MADDIE, uncertain: Great. I also was looking forward to hearing about your love life.
There's a long pause
TURNPIKE: That's Mercury, right? I'm gonna assume. I mean, the lady said so and all.
Y'know My grandma used to collect mercury in jars. I think she was crazy. She'd buy thermometers, crack them open and pour out the little silver beads of toxic material into this little small tubes. Put them on shelves in her office.
MADDIE: I'm glad to hear that idiocy runs in the family, Turnpike.
TURNPIKE: She didn't think it was dangerous. She thought fear was only what we make it, that when we name something as scary it becomes it… she used to place the mercury into my hands, every once in a while. Holding little silver sparks of danger in between my fingers, letting them bead and roll.
The counter reaches 75% completion.
TURNPIKE: I never really liked the chemical side of things. I mean, my great aunt was a Radium Girl, down in Illinois. Have you heard about them? This place called the Radium Dial company hired all these girls to work there, painting dials for clocks, and they all got sick from radiation poisoning. My grandma said she was jealous of them - they got to glow in their coffins, apparently. Thinking back, I don't think my Mom would've approved of half the conversations we had.
MADDIE: … I've never heard of that before. That's…
A long pause
MADDIE: Odd.
TURNPIKE: I agreed for some reason. I think I just liked the thought of working with clocks.
MADDIE: Well, good for you then. Sorry we can't all be as brave as the great Turnpike.

Turnpike goes silent again. The timer reaches 100%, and the audio cuts.
COMMAND: Maddie? Who were you just talking to?
MADDIE: Moira! Shit- she was just talking a few seconds ago, I swear- I had her, but then she cut out again- it wasn't me, I promise-
COMMAND: Simes, calm down. I've got things under control. We're tracking Madison's location, and she's currently slowly drifting away from Earth. Levi is trying to find a way into the Planetarium room to rescue her, but if things come to it, we're going to try and track her down in space. For now, just keep monitoring her. Got it?
MADDIE, weakly: … got it.
The picture on Turnpike's monitor is replaced with one of Venus. The timer begins again. When the bar reached halfway completion of it's cycle, the audio resumed, just as before.

The orbital period of the planet Venus is 224.7 days

TURNPIKE: Oh hey. The light on my audio feed is back on. You working again, buddy?
MADDIE, affronted: I'm not your "buddy". Don't call me that.
TURNPIKE: Thanks, buddy.
MADDIE: … Right. You can't hear me.
TURNPIKE: I'm trying to… enjoy the show, I guess. Not super interesting, I'll admit. As far as planetarium's go. No stars. Just… Venus, this time, right? Yeah. Just me, you, and Venus.
MADDIE: Now that's just a bad joke set-up, Turnpike.
A second passes.
TURNPIKE: Exploration notes: … My brother, Jamie, likes the stars as well. He says it's the best part of camping. Going out somewhere where there were more stars than people. Where people hadn't touched the world, and it was pure. His girlfriend and I like to find stupid camping posters to give him for holidays, his Birthday. He rolls his eyes at us, calls me a cunt or something… his way of telling me he loves me, I guess. I miss him. I don't know how long it's been here.
A pause. Time drags on.
TURNPIKE: I've always been kinda scared of camping- just. Being outside, exposed to all the dangerous elements. Kinda funny, since most of my job is now actively finding ways to trap myself INSIDE dangerous elements. Which is, arguably… much more dangerous? Turnpike laughs
Another moment passes.
MADDIE: Well, guess we're both cowards. Fun.
TURNPIKE: God, I'm bored. This better end soon.
MADDIE: If you die here, I hope you die a coward. I don't want everyone to see you as some big brave hero. You're not.
Silence
MADDIE: You aren't the brave researcher who stood up for a helpless reality bender from being terminated. You're a coward who let a dangerous anomaly who can't control their own fucking powers walk free after they wiped your coworker from existence and couldn't bring them back with a fucking body.
Silence
MADDIE: Fuck, sorry. That was- I'm sorry.

The timer reaches 100%, and the audio cuts. The picture is replaced with one of Mars. The timer begins again. When the bar reached halfway completion of its cycle, the audio resumed, just as before. It should be noted the time of cycles has begun to grow increasingly longer.

The orbital period of the planet Mars is 1.88 years

TURNPIKE: It's starting to feel like forever. I can't…
She sighs
I can't move my legs. I can't leave. I'm… stuck.
A moment passes
MADDIE: That makes two of us.
TURNPIKE: My wife left early for work this morning, I didn't get to kiss her goodbye. God, I hope she's okay.
Turnpike pauses
TURNPIKE: Back in high school, I used to take her to the planetarium nearby on weekends. One weekend, over the summer, it was closed for the 4th of July. She looked so sad, and I… I picked the lock, broke us in.
MADDIE: Stop… stop doing that.
TURNPIKE: I found a way to set up the projector and started playing one of the slideshows. It didn't make much sense without the commentary, but it was peaceful. We sat on the floor, trying to click through it. She kept making up her own commentary, and I laughed so hard I swear I hurt a rib or something.
MADDIE: Bastard.
Nearly ten minutes pass before Turnpike speaks again.
TURNPIKE, singing: No more talk of darkness
Forget these wide-eyed fears
I'm here, nothing can harm you
My words will warm and calm you…3
MADDIE: That's from Phantom of the Opera, right?
No response
MADDIE: Right. You can't hear me…. Levi or Adrien probably know. They always tried to get me to come with them to their shows…
No response
MADDIE: … I wonder if I would've said yes, all things considered. Like, if I'd known I wouldn't be able to leave here.
TURNPIKE: Let me be your freedom
Let daylight dry your tears
I'm here, with you, beside you
To guard you and to guide you…
MADDIE: I guess it's your fault I can't go. Or at least, you contributed.
The counter reaches 75% completion. When Turnpike speaks again, she appears to be in tears.
TURNPIKE: I don't know why this is taking so long. I'm so sorry, Hope. I love you.
MADDIE: Why can't you just let me be angry at you?

The timer reaches 100%, and the audio cuts. The picture is replaced with one of Jupiter. The timer begins again. When the bar reached halfway completion of its cycle, the audio resumed.

The orbital period of the planet Jupiter is 11.86 years

TURNPIKE: Exploration notes. Part… 4? 5? I can't run from this, can I? I can't move- it's- I can't look away from this… only a couple more years, or something. Right? I don't feel hungry. Or thirsty. I don't think I have those urges anymore. Some researchers survive years in things like this.
MADDIE: It's… it's only been a day or so, Turnpike. Don't be dramatic.
The counter reaches 75% completion.
TURNPIKE: Do they really survive, though?
When I was first on the job, I met a researcher who'd been trapped in an anomaly for nearly two years. He wasn't really a person anymore. I know that's mean to say, but honestly, I don't know why they kept him around. He rarely talked. Spent long periods just staring into space. When he talked, he sounded like he was trying not to break down. God, will that be me if I leave?
MADDIE: You'd think I'd know that answer, but I have no idea. Sorry.
Fifteen minutes pass
TURNPIKE: How long has it been?
MADDIE: … almost another day since Jupiter started.

The timer reaches 100%, and the audio cuts. The picture is replaced with one of Saturn. The timer begins again. When the bar reached halfway completion of its cycle, the audio resumed.

The orbital period of the planet Saturn is 29.46 years

TURNPIKE: Listen to me, Lord, and answer me,
for I am helpless and weak.
Save me from death, because I am loyal to you;
save me, for I am your servant and I trust in you
MADDIE: Do you honestly believe that will save you?
20 minutes pass
MADDIE: I mean, I was raised Catholic. But after Eleanor… I just. I couldn't pray anymore. I couldn't believe the words. Because I've been dead, and I know… there's nothing there.

The timer reaches 100%, and the audio cuts out. Site Director Moira enters the room.
COMMAND: Maddie, you need to get some sleep.
MADDIE: No. I have to stay here.
COMMAND: I know you're dedicated, but you can't neglect your own health for your job.
MADDIE: But what if something happens? I need to be here. So I can let everyone know.
COMMAND: Simes, we've tried everything we can, short of launching a rocket into space. And even then, she's been getting farther away quicker than we could've accounted for. She's nearly at the edge of-
MADDIE: Uranus?
COMMAND: … I'm not sure if I can tell you that.
MADDIE: I think she's… I think these cycles are somehow a countdown. Every time it completes, she's being pulled farther out. Past each orbit.
A long moment. Command takes a long breath.
COMMAND: Well, that complicates matters.
MADDIE: We're going to get her back, right? We're going to save her?
COMMAND: We'll see if it's feasible, but I can't promise anything, Simes. We may have to start to accept that she's been KIA.
MADDIE: Really? You're just going to give up? We're the Foundation. We have… we can fucking reset reality! We can erase and rebuild countries! Centuries! What do you mean we can't get one researcher back?
COMMAND: Maddie, think realistically about this. We can't pull out all the guns for one person. It's unfortunate, I know, but it's the risk of the job. Besides, while I would never assume you to be sadistic as to be glad of it, I wouldn't think you to be so affected by Researcher Turnpike's potential death. I don't remember you two being on the best of terms.
MADDIE: I… I do hate her. It doesn't mean I want her dead.
COMMAND: I still think that what she did was noble.
MADDIE: Fuck that.
COMMAND: The Foundation needs people who care.
MADDIE: And that's why you're throwing one away into the vacuum of space, I suppose.
COMMAND: Maddie.
MADDIE: Just. Don't do what you did to me, and just… give up.
COMMAND: We never gave up on you. We tried everything we could to help you, and at the end of the day, it's not because of lack of effort that you aren't… well, I'm not sure how you'd prefer to me to describe you.
Researcher Simes doesn't respond
COMMAND: Do you need to talk with someone? If so, I'm here, and we have counselors on Site staff. I assumed you'd put the Eleanor situation behind you-
MADDIE, cold: I don't want to talk about it. I'm doing work. Like you hired me to do. Please. Just, leave.
COMMAND: Fine. But I expect you to get some sleep and eat something.
Simes doesn't respond. On the video feed, the picture is replaced with one of Uranus. The timer begins again. When the bar reached halfway completion of its cycle, the audio resumed, just as before.

The orbital period of the planet Uranus is 84.01 years

MADDIE: Sorry about that. Welcome back.
TURNPIKE: …How long has it been? Is must be… weeks… months? … I don't… what if Hope thinks I'm dead? What if I don't get to sing to her anymore? What if I can't run my hands through her hair, or read her poetry, or take walks in our park, or even get coffee with Levi and go to bad plays with Hemlock and them? What if-
MADDIE: It's been nearly a week. Does… is time not working right for you? What's wrong, Madison?
Turnpike breaks into sobs. Her sobbing continues for a half hour, whereupon she slowly calms down.
TURNPIKE: I can't let myself do this. I can't… give up. I don't have to break, just because others have broken. I don't have to die here. There's no rule about that, is there? Right. There isn't.
MADDIE: That's it, that's the spirit. Come back home. I- I can try to contact your wife! Or your kids? Do you have kids? Wait- no, you don't. I think? Fuck, Sage would know what to say… if you could even hear me. Which you can't.
She takes a few more breaths
TURNPIKE: I gotta have faith. I gotta get out of here. I have to see Hope again. I need to get back to her. I'm going to survive this. For you, baby. And for me.
MADDIE, choked up: You better, you stupid bitch.

The timer reaches 100%, and the audio cuts. The picture is replaced with one of Neptune. The timer begins again. When the bar reached halfway completion of its cycle, the audio resumed, just as before.

The orbital period of the planet Neptune is 164.79 years

TURNPIKE: Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine…
MADDIE: Simon and Garfunkel, huh? My Dad used to call them "the better Beatles". I like them.
Four hours pass.
MADDIE: I've been… tracking the time between cycles. The last one was 84 hours. For Uranus.
Turnpike doesn't respond.
TURNPIKE: Exploration notes. How do I know when I've lost my mind for certain? Would I be able to tell, if I already had lost it? I probably already have, and just don't know it. I feel like I might have. I feel numb, I ache all over. I feel- I feel- nothing and everything.
MADDIE: 84 years is the orbit length of Uranus. One hour for every year… and that's in our time.
TURNPIKE: I feel like I'm getting farther away. Every planet bringing me closer and closer to the edge of… to the edge of the universe. To nothing. I don't know what's beyond this point. This is a transition place, I know that. But transition between what? Is it even a what? Or is it a who, a when, a why? Future and present, who I was and who I will be, an answer and a question. Maybe it's all those things.
MADDIE: … you aren't wrong. But, jesus Maddie, how long have you been here for?
A ten minute pause.
TURNPIKE: …Maybe I'm overthinking it and it's just a planet on a screen.
MADDIE: That's not an answer.
Twenty minutes pass
TURNPIKE: Things that I know are real. Hope. Jamie. Me. My grandma. Mom. Dad. Levi. This video camera. Things I don't know are real. That voice - the
one that's telling me about the… orbits. This room. That… that this isn't a dream. But. I know I'm real. I'm real. And that's enough.
Four hours pass
TURNPIKE: … is that right? Am I still real…?
MADDIE: I know you are. Please. Hear me. You're real, you're more real than me. You actually have a chance of being a part of reality, okay? I don't. I already was killed, I'm just waiting for it to work. You… you have a wife. You have friends. You have a chance.
Five minutes pass. Then, Turnpike takes a breath and screams.

The timer reaches 100%, and the audio cuts. The picture is replaced with one of Pluto. The timer begins again. When the bar reached halfway completion of its cycle, the audio resumed, just as before. At this point, it should be noted that the time between the start, and halfway point, is 5.5 days. The full cycle took place over the course of 11 days within Earth's time, which is equal to 248 hours.

TURNPIKE: … Exploration notes.
Turnpike breathes deeply
TURNPIKE: Back when I was 16, I nearly drove my car off a bridge. I can remember how the sky looked that night. I hadn't told anyone. I don't even know why I didn't go through with it. Something in the air, or maybe I was just a coward? I don't know. Did I ever even have a chance at surviving?
MADDIE: You still do.
A few minutes pass.
TURNPIKE: I haven't told anyone that.
Another long pause
TURNPIKE: It was a Friday night. I stole my Mom's car keys. She was asleep. Jamie had crashed hard after his football game, and Dad was on call, so there wasn't anyone there to stop me. The floorboards creaked as I walked down them.
I remember the squeal of the tires as I left. There was a small hilly area nearby. I drove slowly, up towards the bridge between one of the peaks that stretched over a river, to another patch. It was right by the old railroad. Stepping out, I could almost hear the train whistle blowing. As if signalling my death.
I stopped just before I swerved off the side. Got out and stood in the night air. It was chilly, fall air, that whipped my cheeks and blew my hair into a mess. It left tears on my face from where it stung my eyes, and yet… something inside me melted enough that I couldn't go through with it. I hadn't met Hope at that point. Hadn't even considered joining theatre yet - I guess I didn't realise that engineering had a place there. God, I remember it though- she looked so pretty, singing…
I almost ended it there, though. I never will forget that.
I didn't, in the end. I turned the car around, and drove back home. Returning was the greatest relief, yet somehow, it made me feel like I'd failed. There's something so heavy about realising that you were nearly dead. That by surviving, you've somehow left behind a ghost there, a million takes of the same scene where you do die.
The same scene, over and over, on loop.
Forever.
MADDIE: … is that what people see when they look at me? Just a ghost? A blank spot that some reality bender - no. Eleanor… tore into the world? Ripped out and shoved back in?
A pause
MADDIE: A ghost on loop?
Sixteen hours pass
TURNPIKE: How much longer will this be? How many more cycles do I have to live through?
MADDIE: I don't know.
Five hours pass
TURNPIKE: Or is it forever?
MADDIE: I… I don't know.
COMMAND: Maddie? You're still here?
MADDIE: No! I've been taking breaks, I was just- checking in.
COMMAND: Your… Command pauses You're flickering. Less dense than usual. I don't know exactly what you can and can't feel, but you look sick, Simes.
MADDIE: I'm not sick.
COMMAND: I wasn't saying you were, I was saying that you don't look well. Go get some sleep. I'll have someone else monitor this.
MADDIE: But-
COMMAND: That's an order, as Site Director.
Researcher Simes leaves the room, along with Site Command Director Moira
At the 11 day mark, the timer ends. The screen goes dark, except for a small glowing patch of text reading: ORBITAL CYCLE COMPLETE. After that, the words "Lightspeed Inc." are displayed, along with an infinity symbol modeled to resemble an hourglass filled with stars.
TURNPIKE: I…
Does this mean…
After a moment of hesitation, Turnpike turns around.
TURNPIKE: It's… it's over.
Turnpike pauses
TURNPIKE, disbelieving: It's over.
After several moments of continued inaudible mumbling, Turnpike takes a deep breath, and removes the camera. She looks into the lens. Her eyes are bloodshot and heavily bagged, and her lips have turned vaguely blue. Her hair is noticeably a much lighter tone, which is inconsistent with her naturally brown hair. Though lighting is minimal, it is presumed that her hair had turned white in response to immense stress or the onset of time.
TURNPIKE: I don't… Is anyone still listening? The light is still green…
Off screen, a crash is heard
MADDIE: Turnpike- Madison- I'm back. It's me- Maddie. I'm here for you. Hang on. Levi has an idea of how to rescue you. Please-
Turnpike stops again

The orbital period of the planet Pluto is 248.59 years

MADDIE: Please. Madison.
TURNPIKE: … Maddie?
MADDIE: Yeah. Yeah, it's me.
Turnpike sobs
TURNPIKE: God, fuck, it's been forever. I… I'm so scared. I don't know how to escape this.
MADDIE: Calm down. It's okay. Try the door, first.
Turnpike walks over shakily, and attempts to open the door. It's locked.
TURNPIKE: I can't.
MADDIE: Okay- well… um… hang tight.
TURNPIKE: How long has it been?
MADDIE: … about three weeks.
TURNPIKE: What? … no. That's… it has to be longer than that. I've been here for…
MADDIE: I think it's different for you and I. Time, that is. I think where ever you are… time is broken.
TURNPIKE: Then how long has it been for me?
A long pause
MADDIE: I don't know. But… I've been listening. The whole time. I've been here listening.
TURNPIKE: … thank you.
Two hours pass
MADDIE: I just got off the phone with Levi.
TURNPIKE: Really?! What did they say? Am I going to get out of here?
A long pause.
MADDIE: They were able to get inside the auditorium again.
TURNPIKE: And…?
A pause
TURNPIKE: …. no.
MADDIE: You weren't there. We tried tracking you and… officially, you're just past Pluto.
TURNPIKE, desperate: Could they get a spaceship there? And rescue me?
MADDIE: It'd take 9-12 years for that to happen. In our time.
A long pause
TURNPIKE: I'm not leaving here, am I?
MADDIE: I… I don't know. We're trying. We promise, but…
TURNPIKE: No… it's okay. Maddie. I don't think… I don't think I was ever meant to escape this.
MADDIE: You were! You are! Please, just believe me.
TURNPIKE: That's alright though, isn't it? That's the point… "it is forever". Like the lady said. This place.. this is my eternity.
MADDIE: No- we can try and help you. There's still hope.
Turnpike pauses
TURNPIKE: I know there's hope. She sighs But I can't wait that long to see her.
She slowly places the camera down, before standing again.
TURNPIKE: Tell… tell Hope I love her. And tell everyone else… Celeste, Sage, Levi, Lost… tell them I love them too. I'm sorry.
MADDIE: You could tell them yourself.
TURNPIKE: I…
She takes a deep breath
TURNPIKE: I just want to leave. I'm sorry Maddie. I'm going to cut the feeds… and then I'm going to get the pain meds they sent with me, and I'm going to try and end things. For good. I don't… I don't want to be here forever. I need to do this now. Before I change my mind.
MADDIE, whispered: Please don't.
Turnpike raises a boot, and stamps down hard on the camera, breaking it. The video cuts out.
Researcher Simes sobs
[END LOG]

Note: The following is a table constructed to record the amount of time experienced within SCP-7218, in comparison to the amount of time experienced on Earth in years.

PLANET
SCP-7218
EARTH

Mercury
.23 years
.23 hours

Venus
.61 years
.61 hours

Mars
1.88 years
1.88 hours

Jupiter
11.86 years
11.86 hours

Saturn
29.46 years
29.46 hours

Uranus
84.01 years
84.01 hours

Neptune
164.79 years
6.86 days

Pluto
248.59 years
10.35 days

TOTAL
541.43 years
22.5 days

Footnotes
1. Containment Design and Engineering Department
2. Note: Reminder that Researcher Simes has requested that we refer to them with they/them or it/it's pronouns in all further documents mentioning it, including this one.
3. This song has been identified as "All I Ask Of You" by Sarah Brightman, from the classic opera "Phantom Of The Opera"

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