Item #: SCP-256
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-256 is contained within a cubic chamber 3 m (10 ft) on a side, with 1 m (3 ft) thick walls composed of a mixture of brick and rubberized layers, with two conductive rods sticking out 18 cm (7 in) from the walls to either side of the entrance. Entrance is restricted by a soundproof airlock. Chamber is to be constantly under surveillance by EMR device and video camera. Entry and surveillance are restricted to only authorized personnel who have undergone surgical adaptation to resist the effects of SCP-256. To see a list of authorized personnel, see document SCP-256b. Personnel not on this list may enter if they are security clearance Level 3 or above, but must wear sound-canceling earphones. All personnel must be stripped of all electronics, ferrous metals and conductive material. They are also required to wear a specially designed insulated and redirective bodysuit (HAZMAT-ELEC) which must be tested before wearing, before entrance, and after exit with a significant charge. A taser is supplied and is rated high enough for testing use. The only recording allowed aside from the EMR device is done by hand. SCP standard office paper is suitable, but writing instruments must be nonconductive. Crayons are kept on hand.
Description: Moved to Site 76 on 03-02-2007. SCP-256 is similar to a typewriter in most respects, except that the keys are fixed in position, rather than connected to levers, and instead of a rollbar and most of the machinery that should be present, two concave copper discs stand on either end, facing inward, 38 cm (15 in) apart. While invisible to the naked eye, EM readings show that a significant electrical charge passes between the copper discs without any conductive medium. If any of the prohibited items are brought into the containment chamber, this current increases in both amplitude and voltage, eventually arcing out and striking the object in question. This is also the reason reinforced concrete was not used in the chamber's construction, as rebar seems to agitate the artifact. It is unknown where the extra energy comes from, or even the initial current, as there seems to be no power generation source within SCP-256. If at any time this current oscillates more than the average peak of 26% on the EMR surveillance, all unauthorized personnel regardless of clearance level must immediately evacuate the chamber. Those who fail to comply are to be terminated at once, again, regardless of security clearance.
For further information, see file 256b.

>Open file 256b
Displaying authorization list
Agent 76-8947
Agent 76-3465
Agent 76-2456
Agent 76-8638
Agent 76-4634
Scientist 76-2464
Scientist 76-4363
Scientist 76-6521
Scientist 76-3215
[CLASSIFIED]
[CLASSIFIED]
[CLASSIFIED]
BaseCommand 0776-0103 *Deceased*
>Access file 256b SysAdminOverride 4498
Implementing System Administrator Override will trigger Containment Protocol 289:
Security will be alerted to your override and be dispatched to detain you. Termination will commence in 24 hours unless authorized or repealed by active BaseCommand.
Proceed? Y/N
>Y
Confirm security code.
>SysAdmin 76-4498
System Override acknowledged. BaseCommand 0776-1389 has not authorized. 24 hour countdown engaged.
>Open file 256b
Displaying authorization list
Agent 76-8947
Agent 76-3465
Agent 76-2456
Agent 76-8638
Agent 76-4634
Scientist 76-2464
Scientist 76-4363
Scientist 76-6521
Scientist 76-3215
Mary-Ann Waters *CIVILIAN*
Robert Waters *CIVILIAN*
James Turtle *CIVILIAN
BaseCommand 76-0103 *Deceased*
>Access record Mary-Ann Waters
Mary-Ann Waters. Vitals under file MAW_1.
Suspected mother of Item# SCP-256
…
You have not accessed this terminal in three minutes. Do you require assistance?
>N
Acknowledged
>Access record Robert Waters
Robert Waters. Vitals under file ROW_1.
Suspected father of Item# SCP-256
>Access record James Turtle
James Turtle. Vitals under file JAT_1
Discovered Item# SCP-256. Claims to be romantically involved with Item.
>Activate security alarm 58B Override SysAdmin 76-4498
Security alarm activated. Security dispatched.
>Access 256c
Access denied. File rated for BaseCommand or higher.
> Access 256c Override SysAdmin 76-4498
From: HR_76-5974
To: BaseCommand 76-1389
Let me officially give you congratulations on your promotion, General Trent. It's a sad, sad thing that happened to your predecessor, but such is the way of things when working for The Foundation. Regardless, I looked into the various classified files that General Gerhart had under lock and key with your access codes, and found out some really surprising things about SCP-256.
First off, the list of authorized personnel are not surgically adapted in any way. In fact, many of them have never undergone anything more serious than the mandated physical. And civilians, tsk tsk. I can't even begin to understand why General Gerhart let them even know of the base. Containment agents have been dispatched to see how far their psychosis has progressed and how much they know, but from what I've found in the late General's personal files, he supposedly had them convinced this was some kind of hospital.
Second, as you may have guessed from the notes on the civilians and the highly classified paper manuscripts, the "authorized personnel" seemed to believe quite vehemently that SCP-256 was once a young adult human named Elizabeth Waters, and has been somehow trapped in the artifact. Even the General was convinced, and the very fact that the BaseCommand was compromised by the item's delusions makes me worry about the entire facility. All personnel on the "authorized" list have been placed under covert surveillance. It is unknown how far the item's control over them goes, and I will be personally reviewing all other SCP security measures enacted on General Gerhart's behalf.
Third, there is information on the artifact that has not been made available in the report. Firstly, the variance on the EMR is remarkably similar to an oscilloscope's pickup of human voice. Apparently when SCP-256 starts its variance, it somehow starts producing audio with it. Second, the compromised personnel write down in the manuscripts that the delusions claim to be in pain when metal is brought near it. After an audio recorder was brought into the room, the afflicted agents noted that the delusions ceased for several days, and when they resumed, they indicated that it nearly "killed" the artifact.
Needless to say, I cannot confirm or deny these rumors due to the security restraints on SCP-256, but I do not place credibility in them. Simply put, General, this was a coverup. Recommend immediate disciplinary procedures for all personnel involved. In regards to SCP-256, I recommend research into power production. As long as the research personnel observe the listed sound-blanking procedures, any possible auditory contamination can be contained. There was no listed drop in power when the "little girl" "almost died", and more conductive material may serve to permanently suppress the risk of the artifact.
However, as per your new policy with advanced timetable on the destruction of destructible SCP items, I have scheduled the item for a tentative destruction on 15 January 2008.
Your vigilant officer;
Edward Berstrom.
…
You have not accessed this terminal in three minutes. Do you require assistance?
>N
Does the black moon howl?
>No. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
Password confirmed.
>date
Mon Jan 14 2008
>Query countdown
Countdown to termination for SysAdmin 76-4498: 23:16:26
>Query location BaseCommand 76-1389 Override SysAdmin 76-4498
BaseCommand 76-1389 is currently in his office.
>Activate security alarm 136c Override SysAdmin 76-4498
Security alarm activated. Security dispatched.
*General Network Alert*
Warning, SysAdmin 76-4498 may be fabricating alarms to distract Security. All personnel report sightings immediately.
…
You have not accessed this terminal in three minutes. Do you require assistance?
…
You have not accessed this terminal in 10 minutes. Do you require assistance?
…
You have not accessed this terminal in one hour. Do you require assistance?
…
You have not accessed this terminal in two hours. Do you require assistance?
*General Network Alert*
Warning, SysAdmin 76-4498 is to be terminated on sight. SysAdmin is armed and dangerous.
…
You have not accessed this terminal in three hours. Do you require assistance?
*General Network Alert*
Warning, Site 76 Lockdown initiated. All SCP rooms sealing.
*General Network Alert*
All Level 1 and 2 personnel are to proceed directly to designated Containment Breach Defense Points and arm themselves. Follow direction of Level 3 personnel.
*General Network Alert*
Explosion detected in Human Resources office. Security has been dispatched.
…
You have not accessed this terminal in four hours. Do you require assistance?
…
System Override: Containment Protocol 289 has been temporarily suspended by:
BaseCommand *1-0001
…
You have not accessed this terminal in five hours. Do you require assistance?
*General Network Alert*
BaseCommand 76-1389 has been relieved of duty by BaseCommand *1-0001.
Access codes are now suspended.
*General Network Alert*
Site 76 Lockdown disengaged. Initiate reclamation and SCP update process.
*General Network Alert*
Check arms back at designated Containment Breach Defense Point. Return to standard duties.
*General Network Alert*
SysAdmin 76-4498 is no longer pending termination.
…
You have not accessed this terminal in six hours. Do you require assistance?
…
System Override: Containment Protocol 289 has been rescinded. Authorization
approved.
…
You have not accessed this terminal in seven hours. Do you require assistance?
>logoff
Does the black moon howl?
>logoff Override BaseCommand *1-0001
Goodnight, Director ██████████.

« SCP-255 | SCP-256 | SCP-257 »


Item #: SCP-257
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Owing to the immobile nature of SCP-257, Site 93 has been erected outside of SCP-257. Access to the interior of SCP-257 is restricted to level two containment and recovery personnel and above. Motion-detecting video cameras have been set up throughout SCP-257's exhibits to monitor any new biological specimens that appear.
All biological specimens extracted from SCP-257 are to be examined, logged, and removed from SCP-257. Biological specimens are to be placed in one of Site 93's temporary holding pens for study and threat classification. If researchers identify specimens they deem worthy of further research, personnel are to fill out Form 257-12 and follow appropriate research protocols. Specimens are otherwise sent to Bio-Site 29 for storage and long-term care.
Description: SCP-257 is an abandoned zoological garden and park located in ████████, United Kingdom. The zoo itself, described as a "Collection of Curiosities" is named for a William Woodsworth, billed as “the greatest explorer and naturalist this side of Reality 12/3.14.” According to promotional materials found within SCP-257, the zoo was founded in 1899 to “educate the gentlemen and ladies of England about Nature, and the many strange Beasts encountered by Explorers on their Travels.” No permits, building licences, or planning permissions have been found that correspond to the location or appearance of SCP-257.
Several signs and notices indicate that the zoo has been temporarily closed for maintenance, but the dilapidated appearance of the park and outdated equipment suggests that the park has been abandoned for at least fifty (50) years.
At irregular intervals, animals will appear within the zoo's confines through an unknown manner. These animals appear in the various enclosures at random intervals. Simultaneously, a hand-written manual appears at the entrance of the zoo inside the ticket booth. These guides detail the proper care and feeding of each organism and sometimes reveal information about its origin and acquisition. The animals vary widely in appearance, behaviour, and classification; many do not appear to be related to any terrestrial animals. There does not appear to be any schedule as to when these animals are delivered. See Acquisition Log W-257 for a complete list of animals delivered in the past ██ years.
On ██/██/████, the following typewritten note was discovered pinned to the entrance of SCP-257 along with a guide.

FROM THE DESK OF PROFESSOR WILLIAM WOODSWORTH, EXPLORER AND NATURALIST
To the esteemed gentlemen and zoological enthusiasts of the Special Containment Procedures Foundation:
As you are no doubt aware by now, I have decided to entrust you with my zoo and my collection of rare and exotic animals while I take a leave of absence. You are straight-thinking and responsible men of science and you will no doubt be able to look after them. After my travels through [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [REDACTED], I've decided to visit the thirteenth moon of Enouious as the next stop on my safari. Naturalists and learned men such as yourselves will no doubt enjoy studying some of the splendid and vital creatures that I've discovered here. The viewing public will appreciate the new additions to my collection- they're like nothing I've ever seen! I cannot write much longer; my indigene guides and I will be up early tomorrow to check the traps.
Keep up the good work!
- Regards, Professor William Woodsworth

 SCP-257 Sample Acquisitions Log Log 232a as of ██/██/20██

Close

Date
Species
Description
Notes

01/3/19██
Elephas sp. unknown, possibly E. antiquus
Five miniature elephants, approximately three (3) feet high. Guide states that "I encountered these splendid animals while on a tour of the Mediterranean."
Retained briefly by Dr. █████████ for study. Genetic link ascertains a relation to the modern African elephant. Currently stored at Bio-Site 29.

01/6/19██
Unknown
A very large decapodal invertebrate matching no terrestrial species. Secretes debilitating neurotoxins similar to that of a poison dart frog's. Guide notes that "[it] can detect certain chemicals in the atmosphere, and interprets it (…) as a territorial challenge. Highly tempermental".
Currently stored at Bio-Site 29.

05/13/19██
Pygocentrus sp.?
A school of approximately 300 very small piranhas. Capable of producing bioluminesence through bacterial symbiosis. Guide explains that they were "procured from the Para-Amazon" with no further explanation given.
Currently stored at Bio-Site 29.

07/20/19██
Brontotherium hatcheri
An adult male brontothere. Guide notes that "making eye contact with one of these beasts, spectacular as they are, is to sign your own death notice."
Currently stored at Bio-Site 29.

09/15/20██
Unknown
Relevant information moved to Document 443/SCP-█████. See incident report 3-122A for further information.
Reclassified as SCP-████ following incident [DATA EXPUNGED]. Request for SCP-257's upgrade to Keter status denied due to its immobile and containable nature, and the containability of SCP-████.

01/5/20██
Rhinoceros sondaicus
A baby female Javan rhinoceros.
No anomalies detected. Currently stored at Bio-Site 29. Possible release to a nearby zoological facility pending.

12/2/20██
Unknown
A large and leathery pupa. Noninvasive scanning reveals what appears to be a human-sized, unknown invertebrate, possibly an insect, inside. Guide states that “this one will start laying eggs right after hatching. You will have a thriving colony on your hands in no time!”
Euthanised and placed in formaldehyde. Currently under study by Drs. ████████ and ████████ at Site ██

4/6/20██
Unknown
A heavily-armored creature with a crustacean-like shell, covered with bright yellow vegetation. Guide states to “keep this fellow under high gravity at all times.”
Died on 4/23/20██. Remains kept for study.

12/13/20██
Kentrosaurus aethiopicus
A juvenile male Kentrosaurus. Guide describes that "the meat, though delicious, is far too hard to safely procure and attracts creatures best left alone."
Died on 2/28/20██ due to disease-related complications. Remains retained for study and placed in formaldehyde. Currently available for study.

11/11/20██
Dinornis sp., possibly D. robustus
Believed to be a moa egg. Guide notes that "though the meat of the adults lacks flavor, the eggs, when prepared properly, provide a delicacy for young and old alike. Moa farming has already begun to rise in popularity in Scotland… I hope to establish a breeding population at St. Mary's in the near future."
Currently under incubation at Bio-Site 29.

6/21/20██
Pan paniscus
A troop of 12 bonobos. Guide notes that "the local ape-men appear to have domesticated these beasts and turned them into companions.''
Currently stored at Bio-Site 29.

9/21/20██
Unknown
Two deer-sized hexapedal vertebrates covered with chitinous armour, possessing mouthparts similar to that of an insect's. Herbivorous. Guide notes that "seeing a herd of these magnificent creatures traversing the floodplains of the Martian savannah rivals the greatest terrestrial migrations of wildebeest or ceratopsid." Guide details how to hunt and cook individuals of the species, noting that they are best served filleted and pan-fried, and taste like "succulent crab".
Currently stored at Bio-Site 29. Unfertilized egg sac removed from now-presumed female.

3/29/20██
Unknown
A group of twelve (12) birds of unknown genus, similar to cranes, with large wingspans. Extremely intelligent. Capable of imitating human voices and reproducing music.
Described as “the crown jewel of the collection.” Currently stored at Bio-Site 29.

« SCP-256 | SCP-257 | SCP-258 »


Item #: SCP-258
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-258 is to be kept in a standard storage vault with a keycard lock to be accessed only on approval from the supervisor of Site 15. SCP-258 is to be stored in a 2m x 2m basin, which is to be emptied twice a week by approved D-class personnel. All personnel interacting with SCP-258 are to be rotated no less than twice a month. While using SCP-258 is not directly harmful in any way, all who have utilized it have expressed a desire to do so again, ranging from the wistful to the vehement. All personnel interacting with SCP-258 are to be screened for underlying mental instability.
After Incident 258-1, cleaning personnel are to be issued light hazmat suits while interacting with SCP-258.
Description: SCP-258 was recovered from ██████████, Maine after parents of local schoolchildren reported that stories of a 'sad bouncy frog' their children had been spreading were true. Agent F███ confirmed the nature of the object and Foundation personnel replaced it with a replica without incident.
SCP-258 appears to be a simple bouncing playground rider, seemingly designed to fit children of elementary school age and shaped like a stylized green frog with rotating handles on either side of its head. SCP-258 has milky-white eyes with what appear to be streams of white paint running down its face, as though it were weeping. Numerous attempts have been made to remove this substance from SCP-258; the green paint comes off with normal paint removal techniques, but the white substance, hereafter designated SCP-258-1, cannot; it only fades with time, observed to depend on various factors including length of time utilized and the extent of the emotional burden 'relieved'.
SCP-258 constantly appears to 'weep' streams of SCP-258-1, at a constant rate of approximately 0.12 liters per hour. When a subject sits on SCP-258, grasps its handles, and begins rocking back and forth, they report that a feeling of peace and contentment washes over them; the 'eyes' of the object then begin leaking SCP-258-1 at an accelerated rate, relative to the effect it has on its user's state of mind. Though this substance cannot be removed from SCP-258 once the seat is vacated, it remains in liquid form during use, and will drip from the object onto the ground. Testing of this material afterward has determined it to be a mixture of plain white paint, human tears, and skin secretions of the American bullfrog. How SCP-258 generates SCP-258-1 is unknown. The direct effect of SCP-258 only lasts for as long as the subject remains seated, though several subjects suffering symptoms of chronic depression have reported a lasting positive effect, resulting from some 'insight' they gained while riding SCP-258.
Repeated use of SCP-258 by a subject has shown to be mildly addictive, and Agent W████████ had to be restrained and struck before regaining self-control. The results of allowing mentally unstable subjects access to SCP-258 is unknown, pending further testing, though it is likely that any subject suffering from severe depressive symptoms would cause SCP-258 to produce uncontrollable amounts of SCP-258-1.
Addendum 258-1: After D-3354 committed suicide following repeated skin contact with SCP-258-1, the direct effects of contact with the substance were reexamined. Continuous skin contact with the fluid appears to transfer some of the emotions suppressed during use of the SCP, and the prior user was reevaluated, revealing she was recovering from [DATA EXPUNGED].

« SCP-257 | SCP-258 | SCP-259 »


Item #: SCP-259
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: A single copy of a computer program capable of producing SCP-259 is to be kept on compact disc in the High Security Containment Vault at Site-25. As discs containing SCP-259 are typically destroyed during experimentation, additional copies may be made for approved experiments.
Mobile Task Force Gamma-10 remains on standby to collect and neutralize any copies of SCP-259 found outside the Foundation. Unauthorized media containing SCP-259 or the means to produce it are to be destroyed immediately.
Description: SCP-259 is a fractal image known as "The Weisenglass Spiral". A completed rendering of SCP-259 acts as an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, opening a portal to an unknown location. The locations accessed appear to vary depending on the size and orientation of the rendered image, and have included:

An area filled with superheated plasma (estimated temperature 20,000,000 Kelvin). See Incident K-259-1.
An area populated with venomous cockroaches (species unknown; weight approximately 2 kg). See Incident K-259-2.
Deep space, estimated to be [REDACTED] km from a black hole. See Experiment X-259-2.
An area possibly corresponding to the dimension opened by SCP-███. See Experiment X-259-3.

Foundation mathematicians are working on determining why this specific fractal has anomalous properties, and whether other similarly anomalous images exist. By O5 order, any image rendering related to SCP-259 experimentation must take place at least ████ m from inhabited areas.
After Incident K-259-1, 41 copies of a CD capable of generating SCP-259 were confiscated from ██████.com, and a public warning issued that the CD, labeled “100 Fun Fractals You Can Print,” contains a malicious virus that will destroy the user's computer. ██████.com claimed to have obtained the disks from a reseller's bankruptcy sale, and the Foundation was unable to trace the original producer. Whether SCP-259 was released accidentally, or distributed with knowledge of its anomalous properties, is under investigation.
Incident K-259-2 makes it clear that SCP-259 is being used with malicious intent. The Foundation is working with global anti-terrorism forces to retrieve SCP-259 from the organization responsible for this incident.
Addendum:
Incident K-259-1 – A residence hall at ███████ University was destroyed by explosion/fire on █/█/20██. Authorities were mystified that conditions at the center of the incident resembled the detonation of a small fusion-based device. Graduate student █████ ███████ was completely vaporized, as were ██ others, including several who left shadows imprinted on the nearest standing walls. Questioning of survivors indicated that ███████ had gone to his room with a CD he had recently ordered from ██████.com “to play with some fractals”, leading to the eventual discovery of a program capable of rendering SCP-259 for sale on the site.
Incident K-259-2 – █/██/201█: Image of SCP-259, approximately 10 m x 10 m in size, appears on Diamond Vision screen during soccer game at ███████ Stadium, outside ██████████, ███████. Approximately 60,000 people in attendance. Survivors report a large circular anomaly appeared in front of the image, and venomous cockroaches "poured out" from it, attacking anyone they could reach. Approximately █████ casualties. Considered a self-containing incident as the insects are unable to survive for more than two hours in Earth's atmosphere.
The cockroaches average 2 kg in weight, and correspond to no known terrestrial species; several live specimens were collected by Foundation MTFs and classified as SCP-████. They are currently held at Site-██ in a 35% oxygen environment. The ███████ ████ organization later claimed responsibility for the image. Mass application of amnestics necessary to partially suppress public knowledge of this event.
Experiment X-259-1 — A battery-powered computer was set up in an uninhabited area of the ██████ Desert to render an image of the Weisenglass Spiral, with remote cameras and sensors set up to monitor the results. Foundation personnel observed at a safe distance. Upon completion of the image, a circular area appeared in front of the computer, approximately 1 m in diameter, emitting a blinding white light followed by a ball of superheated plasma. The plasma dissipated after expanding to an area of ███ cubic meters. Given the interference provided by the building in Incident K-259-1, this is consistent with the damage observed.
Dr. ███████ considers it interesting that SCP-259 took effect without direct human observation.
Experiment X-259-2 — Experiment X-259-1 re-created, except the size of the rendered fractal was doubled. Upon completion of image, a black portal approximately 3 m in diameter appeared, and all matter within ███ m was pulled into it. This is consistent with an otherwise unexplained incident in ███████, ████, where an apartment building was described by observers as imploding and disappearing, leaving a ███ m deep hole.
Experiment X-259-3 – Generation of an inverted version of SCP-259. [DATA EXPUNGED] and area quarantined pending containment of multiple examples of SCP-███.

« SCP-258 | SCP-259 | SCP-260 »


Item #: SCP-260
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-260's current location and target are to be tracked by Foundation personnel. The current target is to be relocated between ██████████ and █████'██ (due to the nature of the intervening terrain), whenever SCP-260 approaches its vicinity.
Description: SCP-260 appears to be a small clastic rock whose exact composition is unknown. It possesses phenocryst-like formations that identify it as a form of igneous breccia. On one of the larger and smoother portions of the surface is inscribed the name of a human, transliterated into Cyrillic, which changes over time at well-defined intervals. SCP-260 maintains continuous motion along a geodesic across all objects that stand between it and the individual currently named on the stone (hereafter the "target"). Its speed in a vacuum across a frictionless surface has been estimated at approximately 1.22 centimeters per second, but it usually moves much slower than this due to atmospheric and surface friction. (An accurate estimate is impossible, as SCP-260 is known to "stick" to the surface of whatever object it is currently located on, preventing its deposition in pure vacuum.)
SCP-260 does not experience noticeable effects from erosion by the objects that it moves across. Tests have demonstrated that the stone possesses extremely high compressive and elastic strength, surpassing pressures exerted upon it by gunfire and tension presses. Due to the stone's continuous motion, serious experimentation for thermal or chemical sensitivity has not been conducted; however, it is doubtful that such experimentation would be successful, as the stone's composition suggests that it has already experienced high-temperature conditions.
Upon surface contact with the target, all attempts to remove or relocate either the target or the SCP become futile. SCP-260 begins to burrow into the target's body in the direction of the chest at a speed of approximately 0.5 centimeters per second. All organs along the SCP's path are pulverized. As soon as the target's vital signs cease, the stone immediately exits the body via the shortest route (whereupon the name of a new target appears on the same space as the previous name), and recommences motion. Typically, the new target is the person closest to the stone at the time at which it exits the body, but some variations have occurred (consult the addendum for further information).
Addendum: Test Log
The following scenarios were constructed as potential preventative measures to contain SCP-260.
Scenario 1: SCP-260 was lured into a cubic concrete cell and locked inside.
Result: Upon reaching the edge of the floor and climbing halfway up the wall, SCP-260 ceased motion. Observers described it as "flickering" for several seconds between its natural coloration and a "photographic negative", after which it vanished. The current target expired shortly thereafter. An autopsy revealed the stone's presence in the target's chest, having punctured the aorta and the pulmonary artery. Several seconds after discovery the name of Dr. ███████, who performed the autopsy, appeared on the stone and he was immediately evacuated to a more secure location.
Scenario 2: SCP-260 was lured into a hollow, open-ended rotational cylinder mounted on a fixed stand (hereafter referred to as a "gerbil wheel") with its current target placed outside the cylinder, with the aim of allowing the SCP to continue its motion while simultaneously retarding it with minimal effort.
Result: After 57 hours and 22 minutes, SCP-260 ceased motion. Events that followed matched very closely to the results of Scenario 1. An autopsy was not performed, and observation of the corpse was ordered for the following 72 hours. Complaints about the deceased ensued. 9 hours into the observation, perforations were first observed in the corpse's chest, followed by the full emergence of SCP-260 over the following hour. After remaining still for 47 minutes, the SCP began moving towards one of the observers, who was moved to another room for continued study.
Note 1: This appears to be normal behavior for the stone when it is not removed from target following death. Other experiments confirmed that penetration of a wood coffin and 1.8 m (6 ft) of soil requires a little more than 72 hours.
Note 2: Due to the failure of this method of containment it is not recommended that SCP-260 be utilized as a power source.
Scenario 3: SCP-260 was lured into a hollow, transparent, smooth plastic sphere (hereafter "hamster ball").
Result: While SCP-260 was prevented from climbing walls and deterred from teleportation, target motion allowed the SCP to negotiate around various obstacles and did not prevent it from beginning penetration once the hamster ball achieved physical contact with the target. At this point target panicked and attempted to leave the premises and was detained and terminated by Foundation agents. SCP-260 flickered as before, but immediately targeted Agent █████, who had first shot the target and changed motion accordingly. Agent █████ was removed from the vicinity and the hamster ball was destroyed by gunfire. SCP-260 was unharmed.
Note: Prior to the target's termination the hamster ball containing SCP-260 fell over the edge of an embankment during its pursuit. Observers noted that the ball fell normally (rather than gripping the wall and maintaining its speed as SCP-260 usually does) and retained its momentum at the bottom, causing SCP-260 to follow the target at much higher speeds.
Agent █████ has been relieved of his duties and is currently subject to transportation between sites off the coast of Asia and North America, in order to keep SCP-260 on a geodesic on the floor of the Pacific Ocean that runs through Challenger Deep.

« SCP-259 | SCP-260 | SCP-261 »


Item #: SCP-261
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Any access to SCP-261 must be approved by staff with level 2 security clearance or higher. Any and all items dispensed by SCP-261 must be recorded, along with the amount of money entered and the amount of time elapsed between uses. Currently, SCP-261 may be used only ten times in a twenty-four hour period, with no transaction exceeding the equivalent of 500 Japanese yen. Testing approved by Site Command is not under these restrictions.
Items dispensed by SCP-261 should be reviewed by Site Health and Safety officials before consumption. Failure to do so releases the Foundation from any obligation regarding negative effects. Items deemed dangerous or useful to research will be confiscated by site security, with financial compensation provided in proportion to money spent.
Description: SCP-261 appears to be a large black vending machine with no front glass panel, and a small keypad on the right side. SCP-261 was recovered in Yokohama, Japan. SCP-261 was brought to the Foundation's attention after investigation of an “urban legend” about a “magic vending machine” that was circulating on the internet. SCP-261 was found in a back alley behind a large shopping center, with a hand-written sign saying “out of order” in Japanese taped to it. SCP-261 has no marks or identification of any kind, and no locals remember when or how it came to be in its current location.
Internally, SCP-261 appears to be a basic vending machine equipped to vend food and beverage items. After a key was made and the front door opened, no abnormal materials were found, and it was determined that SCP-261 has never actually contained any food or beverage items. The keypad, while connected and operating correctly, does not activate any of the dispensing mechanisms.
When money is placed into SCP-261 and a three-digit number is entered on the keypad, SCP-261 will vend a random item. SCP-261 has not accepted any currency other than Yen, with rejected currency being deposited in the coin return slot. It is unknown how these items appear; however, SCP-261 will not operate when the door is open, or when recording devices are placed inside. The number entered on the keypad has no effect on the item vended, nor has any pattern been detected. Items are always some form of “snack food”, and typically have bright, attention-grabbing packaging.
SCP-261 is capable of operating with no external power supply, but operation in this state will cause “unstable” vending to occur much more quickly than normal. If SCP-261 is used several times in a short period of time and/or large amounts of money are entered before an item is vended, SCP-261 will start to dispense bizarre items. While still “food”, their suitability for human consumption is often non-existent.

Log of items vended during Testing Phase 8:
800 yen entered for each item, items being dispensed every 2 minutes. SCP-261 is attached to power.
“Coke Zero” – A can of diet Coke, packaging in English.
“Cheetos” – A small bag of Cheetos snack food, packaging in English.
“Black Black” – A single pack of caffeinated chewing gum, packaging in Japanese.
“Yan Yan” – A single Yan Yan cone, with peach dipping frosting, packaging in Japanese. The Meiji Seika Company does not produce this flavor.
“Pepsi: Dragon Twist” – A can of Pepsi cola, with a trace of fruit flavor, packaging in English. Flavor identified as Dragon Fruit. PepsiCo does not produce this product.
“Darkside Cola” – A “can” with clear plastic sides, packaging in Japanese. Liquid inside is clear. When opened, liquid appears to react to the air, and changes to dark black over a period of several seconds. The black coloration “looks like billowing smoke”, and cannot be reversed. Liquid's taste described as “cola, with something spicy in it.”
“The Little Bakery: 7 Grain” – A small tube the size of a candy bar with a green button, made of aluminum, packaging in English. When the top is twisted off, a mass of “dough” is extruded. “Dough” contains several enzymes and bacteria that have not yet been identified. On contact with air, these cause the dough to rise and “bake”, killing the microbes in the process. Produces a small, round loaf of bread weighing 250 grams. Taste described as good, but chewy.
“Lemon Clams” – Thick plastic baggie with a plastic tube on the side, containing water and twelve clams, packaging in Dutch. Following on-package instructions, the plastic tube was cracked like a “glow stick”. Liquid in the bag flashed to steam, venting from a hole that popped open in the top of the bag, slightly burning one researcher. Steaming finished after thirty-eight seconds, after which clams were found to be fully cooked and infused with a mild lemon flavor. On investigation, clams match no recorded species.
"Diet Ghost" – A can containing an instance of SCP-2107. Packaging was in English. Testing done on this instance provided similar results to other contained instances of SCP-2107. This marks the first time SCP-261 has vended another SCP object.
“<Unknown>” – Small mesh bag filled with small, multi-colored pyramids, packaging in an unknown language. Pyramids found to be very hard and unpleasant tasting, compared to chalk in taste and consistency. When placed in hot water, pyramids open and produce “strings” that quickly dissolve, coloring the water the same shade as the pyramid. Water had no additional taste, but testing revealed a sharp increase in mineral, carbohydrate, and protein content, with several minerals unidentified at the present time. This content was found to be consistent with the recommended daily intake of nutrients for adult humans. Researcher ingesting the water reported stomach cramps two hours later, but no other effects.
“<Unknown>” – Aluminum box with a small glass window on the side, and a large round button on the top, packaging in an unknown language. Box is seamless, and appears to be filled with small, round animals covered in fur, each with three small paws and a single large eye. Pressing the button causes the inside of the box to rapidly become super-heated, cooking the small animals alive. Muffled noises and scratching were heard for several seconds during the cooking process. After one minute, thirty seconds, the front panel opens and gives access to the now-cooked animals. Professor Kain volunteered to eat the animals, with no other researchers willing to do so. Taste described as crunchy and very spicy, with a small hint of beef.
“<Unknown>” – Tall, thin aluminum can, packaging in an unknown language. Opening the can caused a chemical reaction with the liquid inside the can. Liquid was apparently not intended for an oxygenated atmosphere, and detonated violently, causing several injuries and killing two researchers. Testing discontinued, and area cleared. Testing area observed to smell like citrus for several days.

Note: subsequent testing recorded in Experiment Log 261 Ad De

« SCP-260 | SCP-261 | SCP-262 »


Item #: SCP-262
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Currently, SCP-262 is undergoing review and research to see if it is capable of being used by field agents in the acquisition of other SCPs. Monitored use by commander level authority is preferable. It is inadvisable to allow agents unsupervised usage of SCP-262 at this time. When not in use, SCP-262 is kept in a climate-controlled room at Site ██, guarded by at least two Level-2 Security personnel.
Description: SCP-262 is a light brown, European military-style greatcoat from a period between the late 1500s to the early 1900s. It is without any specific designations or markings, leading researchers to believe it was an original archetype sample, intended to be submitted to military officials for approval as part of a new uniform design. The pattern was either rejected or lost because it was never implemented. It is made of wool and extends below the knee on most individuals. Carbon dating of the coat fibers has been inconclusive, placing the age of SCP-262 in the range of 6,200 to 6,400 years old. One explanation is that the wool used to create SCP-262 is perhaps thousands of years old, but the coat itself was cut, sewn, and assembled recently.
SCP-262 is capable of manifesting numerous arms from within the dark inner lining. When worn, any subject wearing SCP-262 needs only to open the coat to materialize hands and arms which are somewhat under the subject's control. Most limbs are human in nature and vary in skin tones, length, and strength. A noted few include:

A reptilian-like scaled tentacle some 4 m (13 ft) long
4 semi-transparent arm-like appendages made of cellulose, over 10 m (33 ft) long, with 4 fingers, 2 elbow-like joints, and no wrists
The clawed paw of a large cat, possibly a cougar or mountain lion
Several feet and legs that appear randomly

The space under SCP-262 is considered to be non-Euclidean in nature and the coat itself divergent from normal dimensions. In one instance, test subject 402M was told to put SCP-262 over his head. Upon doing so, SCP-262 fell to the ground as the Class-D personnel disappeared under it. Some time later, fingerprinting of objects that have come into contact with the limbs of SCP-262 have identified one of the arms as that of subject 402M.
Subjects properly wearing SCP-262 are able to manipulate these arms with a varying amount of control. Test subject 301F was able to perform multiple tasks at once even while unaware and blindfolded, leading researchers to believe that SCP-262 has both perception and awareness of its surrounding even when the subject does not. Some believe SCP-262 to be fully sentient, due to observing SCP-262:

playing a piano with two or more hands, though the test subject has had no formal training in music;
defending itself/subject from multiple attackers;
several limbs "fighting" one another or even going against the subject's will.
At times, when a subject attempts to smoke, a particular limb will remove the cigarette from the subject's mouth and then throw it away. At other times, a different hand will place a cigarette into the subject's mouth and light it though the subject dislikes smoking.

Acquisition: SCP-262 came into the Foundation's care when "The Administrator" relinquished his ownership of the coat in the late 20th century. Because of his status, "The Administrator" is granted special rights which effectively allow him to remain silent about the origins of SCP-262, how he came to possess it, and how he has used it in the past. "The Administrator" released SCP-262 to the Foundation, stating, "In the right hands, it could be extremely useful. In the wrong hands, it could be extremely dangerous. In my hands, it was becoming extremely dusty and moth-ridden and taking up far too much space in my closet."
Addendum 01: Selected notes from further research regarding the properties of SCP-262

Case Study 262-11: Inversion of SCP-262

Trial 7 - After putting on SCP-262 properly, Subject-722M attempts to turn the right arm sleeve inside-out as he removes his arm. Many disembodied voices cry in apparent pain. Subject-722M is instructed to continue inverting the sleeve. Multiple arms emanating from within the lining of SCP-262 reach out and attack Subject-722M. In an attempt to remove the coat, Subject 722M tries to retract his arm but in doing so, inverts the sleeve of the coat. A long cellulitic arm appears from the opposite inner lining, reaches around and up through the inverted sleeve, grasps Subject-722M's caught hand, and pulls violently, the force of which dislocates the subject's shoulder and amputates the arm at the elbow. With SCP-262 in typical position, all emanating arms retreat and audible wailing of voices cease. Subject-722M's wounds are treated, and his condition is inconsequential.

Case Study 262-42: Placement of SCP-262 on a mannequin

Trial 1 - SCP-262 is placed on an anatomically-correct human male mannequin dressed in typical SCP personnel attire. After several minutes, a single human arm emanating from the inner lining of SCP-262 reaches up towards the mannequin's face. After several prods of apparent curiosity, the arm retreats and no further movement is recorded for the duration of the test.
Trial 4 - SCP researchers place SCP-262 over the head and shoulders of a similar, but different mannequin. After a few moments, SCP-262 fell to the ground with the entirety of the test mannequin disappearing below it.

Addendum: It has been noted that a rigid wooden arm resembling that of the test mannequin has been witnessed emanating from SCP-262 since this Trial.

Case Study 262-307: Placement of SCP-262 on a recently deceased human being

Trial 1 - Research personnel put SCP-262 on to the body of a recently deceased Class-D personnel, recently terminated in an experiment with SCP-[EXPUNGED]. The body is whole, unscathed and mounted into a seated position on a chair. After a few moments, a single human arm emanating from the inner lining of SCP-262 reaches up towards the body's face. After several prods of apparent curiosity, the arm retreats. After several more moments, the body which SCP-262 is on begins shaking violently. A popping and snapping sound is heard and the deceased's hands, visible at the end of the sleeves, suddenly retract. The body then stills. A human hand reaches up the back of the deceased neck from the collar and pulls the head up into an upright position. Numerous hands and arms criss-cross the chest and abdomen and straighten the body. Two cellulitic arms reach down the body's legs and grip the ankles. SCP-262 pulls the body into a standing position as other arms of cellulose come down each sleeve.
SCP-262 continues by breaching containment and overpowering security. At the time, MTF Epsilon-9 (aka "Fire Eaters") were present in the facility to provide reinforcements. Discharging their flame accelerators in an aggressive fashion, members of MTF-E9 were able to corner SCP-262 in a blind hallway. When cornered, a hand from within SCP-262 pulled the coat up and over the head of the body it was using. SCP-262 collapsed to the ground with the body of the Class-D personnel disappearing beneath it. It is unknown if the incident was caused by the will of SCP-262 or the will of the body of the recently deceased Class-D personnel used.

« SCP-261 | SCP-262 | SCP-263 »


Item #: SCP-263
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-263 is to be stored in a low value items storage vault at Site-19. It may be removed for testing provided permission from a level 3 researcher and a fire-resistant area to conduct testing in. All testing with SCP-263 is to be recorded. Subjects testing SCP-263 are allowed a mobile telephone, a PDA, or a netbook computer with full, unrestricted access to a complete, synchronized copy of the Foundation's data banks, stored in a dedicated database server to guarantee full retrieval of any records entry in no more than 200 milliseconds if and only if they are terminated immediately after testing has concluded.
All recordings of testing on SCP-263 are to be reviewed by a researcher with level 4 or higher clearance, and censored where necessary to prevent access to restricted material. All researchers observing SCP-263 during testing are to be administered a local amnestic and have their notes confiscated. Research notes from testing require permission from a researcher with level four clearance to access.
Description: SCP-263 is a black and white television, bearing the logo of the "THOMSON" company. It matches no known model of television, but has a similar style and construction to televisions built in the year 1961. SCP-263 is fully intact, but has sustained minor cosmetic damage to the screen and frame. SCP-263 has been observed to function even when not connected to a power outlet.
When switched on, the TV always displays the interior of a studio, whose design bears similarities to studios of television game shows from the 1960's. A large logo, saying "CASH OR ASH?" in large, stylized letters can be seen on the back wall of the studio, and an unidentified music piece is playing in the studio at all times.
The only man visible in the studio is SCP-263-1.
SCP-263-1 appears to be a male human of Caucasian descent of approximately thirty-five years of age, dressed in a suit that matches a style commonly worn between the years 1959 and 1964. SCP-263-1 has a demeanor that has been described as "Blithe," "Enthusiastic," and "Over the top." SCP-263-1 is smiling almost constantly. As soon as a human turns SCP-263 on, SCP-263-1 will look directly at the subject and say that the subject is "a new competitor who just tuned in to the Cash or Ash show." He will then state that he wishes the subject "lots of luck" in answering "three fiendish questions" and "getting the cash - and not ash!" (SCP-263-1's exact phrasing varies slightly between each usage of SCP-263.)
SCP-263-1 will proceed to ask the questions. The questions asked by SCP-263-1 are always related to the environment surrounding SCP-263. If inside of a fully enclosed structure, SCP-263-1 will ask questions about the owners, history, and design of the structure. If outside of a enclosed structure, SCP-263-1 will ask questions pertaining to the history, geology, ecosystem, and weather patterns of the surrounding area.
While inside of a Foundation facility, all of the questions are related to various SCPs in possession or in the records of the Foundation or about the history and architecture of the site in which it is stored. Many of them are inquiries upon rather basic information easily found in documents accessible by low level personnel, but some of them concern specific minutiae, found only in certain esoteric documents which require high clearance and/or are rather complicated to find or reach. In each case, though, the information needed to correctly answer the question can be gathered from Foundation records. For a full list of questions asked by SCP-263-1 while in Foundation possession, see document 263-Q1.
If within the next forty-five seconds, the subject supplies a correct answer, their success will be acknowledged and briefly congratulated upon by SCP-263-1.
If, however, the subject answers incorrectly, or does not answer within forty-five seconds, SCP-263-1 will say: "Time's up! So sorry," and the subject will immediately combust. The flames are always of both high temperature and intensity, and will fully enclose the subject within four seconds. All attempts to extinguish the fire up to this point have been unsuccessful. After forty-two seconds, the fire will disappear, along with the remains of the subject who burns entirely. After forty-two seconds have passed, SCP-263-1 will look out towards the place where the subject combusted and state that the failure is "a pity" and that "hopefully the next competitor will avoid the ash… and get away with the cash!" SCP-263 will then turn off on its own.
If during the forty-five seconds, someone whispers to the subject, audibly speaks to the subject, the subject leaves the area directly in front of SCP-263, or the subject interacts with a computer greater than twenty-seven centimeters, SCP-263-1 will accuse the subject of cheating and the subject will combust in the same manner as described above. SCP-263 will then remark on the "dwindling ethics of today's people", and SCP-263 will switch itself off. Portable consumer electronic devices, such as mobile telephones, PDAs, and laptop computers smaller than twenty-seven centimeters do not cause the subject to combust, thus allowing the subject to find the information required to correctly answer the question within the provided time.
If the subject correctly answers all three questions, SCP-263-1 will say, "Congratulations! You have won the cash! Here is your prize!." SCP-263 will then turn itself off and a prize will appear in front of the subject.
The prizes given away by SCP-263 appear to have no discernible theme or pattern. So far, the following prizes have been given:

A marble figurine of a dragon, 5.3 cm long ; microscopic observation confirmed that micrometre-size details are present (value $48,237)
Jade statues, which appear similar to ordinary U.S. dollars, however, the faces of the presidents are all replaced with the smiling face of SCP-263-1. Same detail in carving as the dragon figurine listed above (value $226,703)
A clockwork figurine, 4 cm tall, made of brass and walking around randomly when wound. The figurine depicts an unknown, vaguely squid-like creature. (value $21,424)
A series of eight gold plated miniature statuettes resembling humanoid anomalies contained at Site-19, including SCP-1770. The statuettes are marked with the anomalies' object number on the base, and do not appear otherwise anomalous. (value $17,315)

All attempts to inquire SCP-263-1 about himself or SCP-263 have proven ineffective. SCP-263-1 does not react to any questions or statements, save for the question answers or any "cheating" attempts.

« SCP-262 | SCP-263 | SCP-264 »


Item #: SCP-264
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-264 is to be contained in a 16 by 16 meter room of standard reinforcement. Two guards are to be stationed outside of this room at all times, circulated every twenty-four hours. The room is to be monitored every day for a minimum of two hours. SCP-264 requires no nourishment of any type. No support is necessary either, as SCP-264 suspends itself through an unknown source of levitation.
Note: As of ██/██/200█, only Agents ████ ███████, ██████ █████ [DECEASED], █████ ██████, and Dr. ██████ ████ are permitted to visit SCP-264. Failure to comply will result in reassignment, pending transgressor's condition [see Addendum 264-01]. SCP-264 has noted previously some attachment to the aforementioned agents, as they were part of the team that originally discovered [DATA EXPUNGED]. In addition, both Agents ████ ███████ and █████ ██████ were on location during [DATA EXPUNGED]. Suggest keeping them on-site until further notice. -Dr. Carnival
Description: SCP-264 is a skeleton of humanoid appearance, estimated at two meters in height. Its skull is slightly elongated, and two metal protrusions extend from either kneecap. SCP-264's torso and upper pelvis have either been replaced by, or consists of, a structure, composed of an unknown metallic substance, that resembles a temple of unknown origin. The structure is composed of several layers of balconies and terraces, with a door located at the approximate center.
On the structure are dozens of carved statues that resemble men, women, children, and, in a few cases, animals. Statues are unable to be removed, although they appear to go about the standard activities of any tribal culture when not being viewed directly.
The structure and skeleton seem to either have been mounted upon, or are part of, a hemisphere just over one meter in diameter, composed of what appears to be the same unknown metal. The edge of the hemisphere is lined with evenly spaced spikes about 2.5 cm (1 in) in length. Several of the statues have been seen interacting with the sphere in various ways, and seem to be aware of its existence. The back side of the hemisphere is covered in carvings of several languages, including Arabic, Hebrew, German, and ███████. Translation of the ███████ language has been suspended indefinitely due to [DATA EXPUNGED] (see Addendum 264-02).
SCP-264 is sentient, communicating through several non-verbal forms, including Japanese, Taiwanese, Korean sign language, and Morse code. It is most frequently recorded communicating through writing, however, and has been noted writing in nearly every language currently discovered, including the ███████ language. On rare occasions, a designated statue will speak for the SCP; there have been only two recorded instances of this happening since its discovery.
Subject refers to itself as "The Guardian", and refers to the carved statues as separate entities. SCP-264 claims to be the creator of the statues and the structure they "live" in. The statues appear to be aware of "The Guardian's" existence, as they have been observed retrieving several objects from the interior of the hemisphere, where it is presumed the structure expands. Objects retrieved from the interior include a stick of charcoal, papyrus, SCP-███, and a small semi-transparent marble of [DATA EXPUNGED] which was presented to Agent ██████ by one of the statuettes.
How SCP-264 is capable of communicating with its "subjects" is currently unknown, as neither it nor the statues emit any form of psychic read-out. However, SCP-264 has alluded to having abilities of precognition. Taken from Interview 264a:
Dr. Carnival: How exactly did you manage to do that?
SCP-264 refused to elaborate on what it meant. However, it can be assumed that through some force unknown, SCP-264 is able to view the path a person may take through the course of their life.
SCP-264 has proven to have knowledge of several other SCPs currently contained, including SCP-035, SCP-███, and SCP-███ [see Interview 264a].

Addendum 264-01: Due to the actions on 06/10/20██, in which Dr. █████, and the civilian ███ █████ [DATA EXPUNGED], SCP-264 will allow only the aforementioned agents to converse with it. Following [DATA EXPUNGED], Dr. ██ entered SCP-264's cell to perform several experiments with one of the statues. At 0200, [DATA EXPUNGED]. Several hours later, a previously unseen statue was viewed emerging from the doorway located at SCP-264's center. Close-up imaging proved the statue to be in the likeness of Dr. ██.
Addendum 264-02: [DATA EXPUNGED].
Note: The next stages of exploration have been enacted upon today. A fiberscope was inserted into the doorway located at what we're guessing is the center of 264 (with its permission, of course; can't have any more assistants lost to rudeness). For the most part the view was nil. Image was distorted—some property of 264 is interfering with the camera, though of course it can't give any insight as to what causes this to happen. The phrase 塩の鎧 inscribed on the inside of the hemisphere it's mounted on was all we found. The Japanese translates to 'Salt armor', though what this means we're still at a loss for. However, it does confirm our suspicions that 264 is Japanese, or at least Asian, in origin, despite where it was discovered.
Further exploration sched. for 11/6.
-Dr. Carnival.

« SCP-263 | SCP-264 | SCP-265 »


Item #: SCP-265
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Foundation Site-54, -109, and -110 have been provided SCP-265 specific sub-taskforces in order to study SCP-265. Each houses a small fleet of tactical aircraft as well as Agents trained in standard Foundation information-gathering and interrogation techniques. Civilian cover stories and disguises are preferred - see Document 265-B for further protocol.
Local news outlets are to be scanned for signs of SCP-265 and teams are to investigate possible encounters. Specific protocol is to be arranged on an incident-by-incident basis. Agents are not to instigate violence towards SCP-265 until a better understanding of its nature can be ascertained.
Description: SCP-265 appears to be a Series 1 GAZ M21 Volga automobile, devoid of any license plating, logos, or other identifying marks. It is painted black with white-rimmed wheels and appears to be in pristine condition, regardless of environment. Some accounts note that it has white curtains in all but the front windows. Note that the production of the GAZ M21 ceased in 1970, with Series 1 being produced between 1958-1959.
SCP-265 is absent of human occupants and appears to travel under its own power. Other details vary between encounters; it's common for individuals to report that SCP-265 is silent while traveling, while others hear its engine idling for an extended period of time before noticing it nearby. Similarly, some encounters result in the vehicle leaving physical evidence such as tread marks on roads, where other encounters leave no physical traces.
SCP-265 nearly always appears in scenarios which commonly elicit dread and paranoia in subjects, such as following lone travelers and idling in home driveways for a short while before driving off.
SCP-265 has been encountered throughout rural Poland, far from urban centres but occasionally passing through small rural communities with populations under 500. It has been encountered at various times late in the day, with confirmed encounters having occurred at any time between 1829 hours and 0813 hours.1 SCP-265 normally moves at about 65 km/h2, but has been recorded exceeding 400 km/h3 in isolated instances.
Addendum - Foundation Capture Attempt: At 23:11 on ██/██/20██ a vehicle matching SCP-265's description was seen idling outside a Foundation-controlled weather station at [REDACTED]. After visually confirming the lack of human occupancy, a pursuit team including one helicopter and four high-performance offroad vehicles were dispatched from nearby Site-109 to follow and attempt to capture the vehicle. SCP-265 quickly accelerated to an excess of 200 km/h and showed an unexplainable degree of maneuverability. The helicopter continued pursuit until SCP-265 vanished into a densely forested area. The following search of the area found no trace of any vehicle, but incomplete human remains were discovered 4 kilometres away in a waterlogged area.
Addendum - Similar Phenomenon: Given multiple concurrences of SCP-265 and human remains, and the similarity between their respective vehicles, it's possible that SCP-265 may be a variant or distantly related to phenomena observed in SCP-2613. Investigation into both anomalies is ongoing.
Additional Documentation: Below is attached a translated series of excerpts collected from civilian sources, including audio interviews, law enforcement, news outlets, and personal diaries. This list is incomplete - please see Dr.Seidelman for access to full records.

Open File SCP-265 - Sample of Assorted Records, 1960-Present

Close File

RECORD: Incident Transcript 265-1973-4/3
Recovered from police records of [LOCATION REDACTED]
SUMMARY: An isolated event. Victim was taking a walk between villages in the late afternoon around 1300. A black Volga automobile with white rims appeared behind him and following at a low speed. According to the civilian, the vehicle was unusually loud and accelerated to hit him, fracturing his leg as he dove for cover. He played dead as the vehicle completed a three-point-turn to face him again, and waited for several minutes before it drove off. Civilian claimed that the interior was empty of any driver or passenger.

RECORD: Diary of Civilian 265-1974-8/11
Excerpt recovered from archives of [REDACTED]
"… unusual event. We pursued the Volga for nine minutes in two cars, during which it led us further from the town. It was growing dark, but we were confident that we could catch it. Piatek shot at it, but he missed or the car was bulletproof. He swears that he did not miss. It then turned sharply to the right and drove into the lake. We stopped and began writing the report on the side of the road; after three or so minutes Gorecki drew our attention towards the lake, and we saw lights emerging from the other side, and red tail lights driving off into the woods on the far side. There are only two sets of tire tracks. We swear on the lives of our mothers that this is true, and myself and Gorecki request to resign."

RECORD: Audio 265-1982-7/31 — 9:17-11:01
Recovered from police records of [LOCATION REDACTED]
"… The couple claimed that the vehicle, an unmarked Volga limousine painted black with white tires, appeared behind them while they were traveling. It followed them for several minutes before ramming them repeatedly and driving off. Neither could describe the driver, and both said that the offending vehicle made no noise and left no tracks."

RECORD: Diary of Civilian 265-1989-8/11
Excerpt recovered from archives of [REDACTED]
"I awoke just past midnight, and walked downstairs to fetch a drink of water. Once downstairs I noticed lights through the window. The car from a few weeks ago was back at the end of the drive, by the street. Its headlights were facing the house, and it was idling loudly. I was afraid that somebody was out there, and I almost went to wake up Piotr and the children, but I couldn't convince myself to move. After ten minutes the car backed away and drove away. It looked just like the car my grandfather had at his old shop, but black and brand new. I will tell the police in the morning."

RECORD: Incident Transcript 265-1990-11/2
Recovered from Police Records of [LOCATION REDACTED]
On 10/29/1995 the citizen claimed to see an unconscious person in the back seat of a vehicle fitting the aforementioned description of a black M21 Volga, and provided a description of the person's appearance; this was later determined to be very similar to ██████ ██████████, who disappeared from his house near the town of ███████ on the same day 41 years ago.

RECORD: Handwritten Excerpt 265-1995-4/11
Recovered from Police Records of [LOCATION REDACTED]
"I woke up around 3 in the morning, and saw a car outside of my front door. It was a black Volga automobile, with curtains and white wheels. I do not know why I got into the car. I just felt like I needed to get into the back seat, so I did. I remember the door was heavy when I opened it, and the inside was clean and smelled like something familiar that I cannot place. I don't remember anyone else in the car.
I remember seeing water out in front of me in the headlights, that I was moving towards it, and the lights all went out and I felt the car crash into it and go under. I held my breath as the water came over my head, and opened my eyes and saw terrible things.
Everything was so quiet. Things watched me, with sad faces in the dark. There were so many, they touched me and I could see them begging me to [illegible]
I remember screaming and beating the door, and the door opened and I fell out onto the grass. I remember spitting water and somebody finding me a little while later, and I fell asleep in the car to the hospital.
I'm so afraid. There were black rails and horses, they're waiting for everyone to come. A ship under everything else darker than anything. And the others are so sad, they want to touch and be happy again but they're so far down, and it's so dark and cold. They can't come back."

Footnotes
1. There have only been two confirmed encounters of the phenomenon between 0900 and 1700 hours.
2. approx. 40 mph
3. approx. 250 mph

« SCP-264 | SCP-265 | SCP-266 »


Item #: SCP-266
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-266 is to be kept in a 10 m x 10 m air-tight containment unit, with the internal temperature maintained at or above 48°C by an independently-powered heating unit. Access to containment requires Level 2 or above clearance, and thermal hazard suits are to be utilized and maintained during all interaction.
Description: SCP-266 is a number of free-floating masses of gaseous material, possessing a natural luminescence which exists as a bright purple or red glow. In most cases, SCP-266 feels cold to the touch, and exerts an endothermic effect on its immediate surroundings. Despite having no obvious nervous system, SCP-266 appears to react to stimuli and has been observed to learn certain habits based upon its experiences.
SCP-266 is remarkably fond of warmth, and will actively seek sources of heat, natural or artificial. Of all sources, however, SCP-266 prefers human contact as a method of obtaining warmth, oblivious to the inimical effect it has on mammalian life. Due to SCP-266's endothermic nature, extended exposure without proper protection will lead to death by acute hypothermia. While not aggressive, SCP-266 will grow discontent and even hostile when not provided with adequate heat, and has exhibited the capability to cause considerable havoc when deprived of warmth. Human contact has also been observed to aid in calming SCP-266, suggesting a need or desire for social interaction. Personnel assigned to this duty have reported hearing SCP-266 speak (recorded excerpts of conversations have revealed that SCP-266 is capable of speaking in an unknown Gaelic dialect) and on occasion have spoken back.
SCP-266 was discovered in █████, Ireland, after local reports of several youth inexplicably falling victim to hypothermia at a local hot springs. These events, along with ongoing reports of “Will-o'-the-Wisps" by superstitious locals, caught Agent ███████'s attention. After finding SCP-266, he was able to lead it to nearby Site-██. Upon arrival, Agent ███████ exhibited symptoms of hypothermia, and was only saved by the efforts of Dr. █████ and staff. Due to Site-██'s containment conditions, SCP-266 was relocated to Site-19 at first convenience.
Addendum 266-A: Audio logs recording conversations between personnel and SCP-266 have revealed English words and phrases being used alongside its standard dialect. Current theory is that it is simply imitating these words, much like a parrot. Further documentation is requested regarding this matter.

« SCP-265 | SCP-266 | SCP-267 »


Item #: SCP-267
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-267 is contained in a cave formation within Site-37. Live animals must be supplied to replace any that succumb during the course of feeding. A population of livestock is maintained on site for this purpose. Any personnel interacting with SCP-267 organisms should be furnished with level 4 isolation equipment, and a tranquilizer weapon and stun gun for protection.
Wild occurrences of SCP-267 must be eradicated as soon as they are detected. Recovered human victims cannot be rehabilitated, but are to be removed for use in ongoing observation of possible anti-senescent effects of SCP-267's venomous excretions.
Description: SCP-267 are hairless, sightless, carnivorous rodents highly adapted for subterranean life in eusocial colonies. A single nest is currently contained in the ███████████ cave formations in █████████, █████████. SCP-267 is biologically similar to Heterocephalus glaber, but represents a distinct subspecies.
Members of an SCP-267 colony spend the vast majority of their lives underground. They lack eyes completely, and auditory and tactile senses are atrophied. They do not seem to experience pain or any sense of self-preservation. They are extremely sensitive to smell and airborne chemical stimuli, which they use for navigation, hunting, and communication. Unlike in eusocial arthropods, there is no queen. There are caste divisions in its population, however, including workers, soldiers, breeders, and nursery attendants.
SCP-267 has sharp teeth and claws, but its primary weapon is its venom. The venom is effective in µL amounts and has aggressive paralytic and carcinogenic effects. In a hunt, dozens of soldiers cooperate to locate and bring down prey. They attack simultaneously, inflicting dozens of bites in a few seconds and incapacitating the target. They then drag it, conscious but immobile, back to their colony.
At the colony, swarms of worker caste SCP-267 emerge to transport the victim inside. Workers remove foreign aromas, carefully check for parasites, and physically dismantle the organism's means of locomotion to prevent escape. By this time, tissues directly exposed to venom have begun to exhibit abnormal cell division. Within 24 hours, undifferentiated masses of tissue are visible at every bite location. The tumors arise spontaneously but seem to target skin and fatty tissues, as growths they are less likely to threaten vital organ systems. This has the added benefit to SCP-267 of producing a high concentration of energy-rich lipids for consumption. The tumors grow continuously until a few days after the larder animal's death.
Because of the rapid tumorigenesis, larders have massive caloric needs. Workers masticate and regurgitate root pulp to provide the larders with nutrition. They seem to distinguish cancerous from healthy tissue by its scent, and remove tumors for consumption once they have "ripened" to a desirable size. Workers have been observed licking and tending to larder animals to keep them clean and healthy. Larder animals last between 12 weeks and ██ years, depending on the species, and supply all of the colony's food. Many months typically elapse between SCP-267's forays to the surface.
Members of SCP-267 are violently territorial and respond with overwhelming force to any intrusion into their caves. With sufficient food they are capable of extremely rapid reproduction, a fact that has become particularly threatening since the extinction of their primary predator, ███████████████████.
Addendum 267-1: Bones from human beings have been uncovered in multiple waste areas within the caves, dating back several thousand years. Because of the difficulties in operating inside the nest, a full forensic survey of these leavings is unfeasible. Nineteen months after containment was first established, larder A-26 was discovered to be human, possibly █████████████, who disappeared along with his parents on a family trip in 19██, at the age of █. The lack of appendages combined with rampant tumor growth is responsible for delaying the initial identification. Genetic tests are consistent with human DNA with massive deleterious mutations. Attempted interviews with the subject (SCP-267-A26) have discovered only that his language faculties have atrophied over the course of his imprisonment.
Addendum 267-2: SCP-267 shows a marked preference for acquiring humans as compared to other mammals. This is likely a result of humans' long life span and fast metabolism compared to other prey. Human subjects provide 33% more cancerous matter per month than a similarly sized pig, and can be kept as larder animals until the expiration of their natural lifespan.1 This helps to explain forensic and anthropological evidence of human predation even at a time before habitat intrusion made such behavior inevitable.

Footnotes
1. There is some evidence that animals (including humans) may live longer than normal individuals of their species, perhaps due to some effect of SCP-267's venom or due to abnormal tumor growth. Further observation is necessary to substantiate this observation.

« SCP-266 | SCP-267 | SCP-268 »


Item #: SCP-268
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-268 is currently to be maintained within [DATA EXPUNGED], as it has been deemed that the chance of use for facilitation of escape by restricted personnel or humanoid SCP is too great. However, the possibility of use by field agents after further testing is under review. See addendum 268-05.
Description: SCP-268 is a tweed-wool newsboy cap. The design and make seem to be of Irish origin. Due to the style and fabric, it is estimated to have been created in the late 1800's to early 1900's, though fiber analysis is inconclusive. The only markings on the cap are a small label with writing in Middle Irish, reading "The Garden is the Serpent's Place." However, there are various indications that this label was sewn onto the cap in recent times.
Due to the nature of the artifact, testing has been extremely difficult. SCP-268 seems to be a normal hat until it is worn. Anyone wearing the hat, however, becomes suddenly and instantly unnoticeable. Subjects become unmemorable, thoroughly ignorable, or "taken for granted" by all observers. Observers, with specific prompting, are able to later recall physically seeing the subject, but can give no specific details other than "seeing a man with a hat". Observers seem to have the overwhelming feeling that the wearer is someone that was "supposed to be there", and thus did not merit thought or notice.
During initial testing, remote analysts completely forgot what they were supposed to be observing within the chamber, and it was not until the D-Class subject wearing SCP-268 spoke out loud that he was noticed again. Removal of the artifact, vocalization, and physical interaction with observers seem to be the only way in which wearers of SCP-268 can make themselves noticeable. Once an observer has been made to 'notice' a SCP-268-wearing individual, they slowly begin to ignore the subject once more unless kept actively engaged by the wearer.
Testing reveals that if a subject wears SCP-268 upwards of twenty (20) cumulative hours, its effects seem to linger, with diminished potency, on the subject even while not wearing the artifact. Testing in this area has been cautious due to the possibility of containment breaches, but one incident [see Addendum 268-04] has shown that if the artifact is worn long enough, that the effect is rendered permanent and unbreakable.
Extensive research is still unable to determine whether or not electronics are directly affected by SCP-268. Observers viewing an SCP-268-wearing subject through electronic means still have difficulty acknowledging the subject's existence, and even when noticed, observers report to be unable to see the face of the individual in question. Observers note pictures of SCP-268-wearing individuals as being "blurry", and digital media such as surveillance cameras is reported to become "grainy and unfocused". Research is unsure whether these alterations are extant and physical, or merely perceived due to SCP-268's properties. It should be noted that although capturing SCP-268 through visual electronic means has been difficult, motion-sensing, weight sensing, heat seeking and similar devices all trigger correctly when encountering an SCP-268-wearing subject.
Addendum 268-01: SCP-268 is noted to have some similarities to SCP-180. SCP-268, however, does not seem to function on inanimate objects, and more importantly does not directly steal the identity of its host. While SCP-180 causes its host to become unrecognizable after SCP-180 itself is removed and placed on another object, this seems to be a side-effect of its function of identity theft and transfer. Meanwhile, SCP-268 could be said to 'steal' the identity of long-time wearers as they become irrevocably forgotten. This has caused some speculation as to whether the items share similar origins, or whether the many similarities they share are merely coincidental.
Addendum 268-02: At Agent ███████'s request, and after approval by Dr. █████████ and Dr. Klein, SCP-268 is being used with agents in active field duty. Results thus far have been favorable.
Addendum 268-03: Field-Testing has been suspended. Though Agent ███████ appears to have been on payroll and on records, no personnel, either on Site-██ or in higher command, remember knowing or hearing about an Agent ███████. Further tests should be conducted only on D-Class personnel, and on no single individual for longer than ten (10) hours.
Addendum 268-04: SCP-268's effects seem to strengthen and become permanent as individual subjects wear the artifact for extended periods of cumulative time. There is a marked difference in the potency of SCP-268's effect on someone wearing it for the first time, and someone who has worn the artifact upwards of five hours on other occasions. For example, someone who has not worn the cap before seems to dispel its effects merely by speaking. Those who have worn the artifact on several occasions for extended amounts of time seem to be able to ask observers questions and receive answers with the observer having little to no recollection of the event. In one test, a subject who had worn the artifact for upwards of fifteen hours was able to ask standing personnel the test chamber's password, nearly causing a containment breach and the escape of D-Class personnel. The security personnel in question reported being unable to recall parting with the information in question. - Dr. Klein
Addendum 268-05: As of ██/██/████, SCP-268 is missing. Its absence was discovered early in the morning by Agent █████ and research analysts, and in its place was a note reading "Thanks, I needed my hat back. ~ L.S." A full investigation of this security breach has been launched as of ██/██/████. Refer to [DATA EXPUNGED]

« SCP-267 | SCP-268 | SCP-269 »


Item #: SCP-269
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-269 is stored in a standard Safe-class secure locker at Site-19. Experimentation with SCP-269 may only be performed on Class D personnel, and only with prior approval from at least two (2) Level 3 Senior Researchers.
Description: SCP-269 is an unmarked bracelet composed of red jade approximately 11 cm in diameter in its inactive state. SCP-269 exhibits unusual resilience as all attempts at obtaining a sample have failed to date, as well as constantly maintaining a temperature of approximately 36°C regardless of ambient room temperature.
When placed on the wrist or ankle of a living human subject, SCP-269 contracts to fit tightly but comfortably over the extremity. Over the next 24 hours, SCP-269 extends flexible tendrils that integrate with its host's circulatory system through the ulnar and radial arteries, a process described by test subjects as being painless but mildly uncomfortable. Upon completion of this process, SCP-269 cannot be removed from its host without amputating the affected hand or foot.
Once SCP-269 is fully integrated, it will begin to filter substances from its host's bloodstream. How this is done is not fully understood, but the process occurs over three stages:
In the first stage, SCP-269 will begin to filter contaminants and infectious agents such as blood-borne bacteria and viruses. This includes many disease agents that are currently incurable such as the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV); SCP-269 appears to be capable of identifying and isolating infected blood cells from healthy ones. As this process often results in a general improvement in the health of the host, the host may resist attempts to have SCP-269 removed. This stage typically lasts anywhere from one week to one month.
In the second stage, SCP-269 will begin filtering components of the host's immune system from the bloodstream. Because SCP-269 continues to filter infectious agents from the host's body, this generally goes unnoticed unless a blood analysis is performed. Stage 2 lasts anywhere from one month to six months.
In the final stage, SCP-269 will begin to filter vital blood components such as red blood cells and platelets, causing an onset of acute anemia and thrombocytopenia. Hosts that reach Stage 3 quickly weaken and will invariably expire within one week unless massive blood transfusions are given.
SCP-269 came to the Foundation's attention following reports that a civilian (one Mr. ████ ████████ from [REDACTED]) had been cured of acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS) and died shortly thereafter. SCP-269 was discovered attached to Mr. ████████'s wrist, and was secured by Foundation agents after it was found that SCP-269 had integrated into his circulatory system. Investigation into the precise function and origin of SCP-269 is ongoing.

« SCP-268 | SCP-269 | SCP-270 »


Item #: SCP-270
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Due to SCP-270's immovable nature, a structure has been built around it that outwardly appears to be a large farmhouse, henceforth called Outpost Delta. Outpost Delta is to be staffed with a minimum of ███ trained personnel.
Extensive records of SCP-270's ciphers are kept at Site-11. Extensive records of decoded ciphers are available in █-███, ██████.
If the security of Outpost Delta is compromised, SCP-270 is to be destroyed, along with all on-base records of verified or unverified information accumulated, and manuscripts outlining various encryptions SCP-270 has used.
Description: SCP-270 is a nondescript black phone of mid-20th century make.
There were no human populations exceeding ██ people per ████ square meters within a █████ radius of the location of discovery, and SCP-270 itself was well hidden by surrounding native vegetation. The unusual properties of SCP-270 were apparent upon discovering that the power cord extended an indefinite length into the soil directly below SCP-270, despite which a steady voice was speaking through the earphone. Investigations regarding how long the cord is have since been officially discontinued (see Addendum 270-A).
What makes SCP-270 of continued interest is the audio stream from the earphone, which has since been discovered to contain encrypted messages that are of value to the Foundation. Said ciphers are referred to as SCP-270-1.
For the most part, SCP-270-1 consists of a mildly distorted human female voice (see Addendum 270-B) speaking in a steady monotone, which has been recorded listing names, cryptic phrases, patterns of numbers, quotes, mangled quotes, strings of letters, [DATA EXPUNGED] incomprehensible words, sounds that cannot be produced by any known animal that continue for extended amounts of time (███ unconfirmed languages have been distinguished to date, ██ of which are reoccurring), monologues, nursery rhymes, [REDACTED] leading to speculation as to whether or not the narrator is in fact human, etc.
The following have also been recorded: melodies, periods of silence (see Addendum 270-C), metallic scraping noises, metallic scraping noises that have been looped and re-calibrated so they play roughly in the same tune as several classical music tunes and a handful of [DATA EXPUNGED], Morse code, [REDACTED] human screaming, various computer programming languages, every known language on earth (including, in one incident, Pig Latin), [DATA EXPUNGED] possibly of biological origin, condescending laughter, music, music played backwards, music [REDACTED], conversations that have evidently been recorded ranging from [REDACTED] politically significant and extensively protected area to what was most likely an average household, discussing what grocery supplies to buy from the supermarket, static, ambient soundtracks, etc.
SCP-270 is otherwise a perfectly normal phone and is susceptible to damage as similar phones would be. Disassembly has not uncovered the source of SCP-270's unusual properties.
Speaking into SCP-270 has no effect on SCP-270-1. Currently disputed, refer to Incident-270-█ in which [DATA EXPUNGED].
Attempts to decipher SCP-270-1 have yielded partial successes. In one notable case, a complicated cipher proved to be an intensive description of an SCP-███'s imminent attempt to breach containment. Evidence of such was found in the [REDACTED] of SCP-███'s containment. Containment breach was accordingly prevented. Decoded portions have alternately been startlingly useful to the Foundation, and immensely frustrating to both personnel working on SCP-270-1 and Foundation officials. For example, one ██-hour study of what seemed to be a significant cipher proved to translate into a long and painstakingly thorough list of extremely unofficial synonyms for a human █████.
Likewise, information gained from SCP-270-1 have both [DATA EXPUNGED] preventing a possible XK-class end-of-the-world scenario, and listed ‘secret ingredients' of Dr. R█████'s widely praised cherry pie. As it is impossible to determine how useful portions of SCP-270-1 will be, personnel are advised to choose whatever segments of SCP-270-1 they deem to be most promising. However, some portions of cipher are either too intricately encrypted for our most perspicacious personnel to decode, or indeed may hold no meaning at all.
Attempts to decode SCP-270-1 are continually ongoing (see Addenda 270-D and 270-E).
Addendum 270-A: A probe was extended a total of █████ meters along the wire before the maximum extension length was reached. The matter has since been declared not of sufficient interest to merit a more thorough examination.
Addendum 270-B: As of █/██/██, ████ military time, the unidentified female voice of SCP-270-1 stuttered for █ seconds before breaking down into what researchers described as ‘disconsolate sobs,' pleading to be [REDACTED]. This continued for ██ seconds before audio cut off abruptly to a ██-minute excerpt of SCP-270-1 from ██/█/██. Immediately afterwards, SCP-270-1 proceeded as usual, the only noticeable difference being that the voice narrating SCP-270-1 was male.
Addendum 270-C: Further examinations revealed that this was in fact not silence, but audio stimuli both too high or too low pitched for human perception. ███ additional unidentified languages have been discovered upon supplying Outpost Delta with appropriate audio equipment.
Addendum 270-D: As of late, SCP-270-1 has been becoming noticeably more difficult to decode. This includes utilizing more convoluted methods of encryption, loud background noises being added while the narrator is speaking, multiple voices speaking at once, and, in one case, loud [REDACTED] extremely personal details [REDACTED] Dr. A████, who was visibly shaken by the event. Morale has since plummeted while stress levels have skyrocketed.
A computer program has been coded in order to automatically decode portions of SCP-270-1. A recreation wing has been added to Outpost Delta.
Addendum 270-E: Data Processor 270-1 has been discontinued. All attempts to electronically resolve portions of SCP-270-1 have thus far failed.
.
.
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LEVEL 5 SECURITY CLEARANCE REQUIRED
As of late, concerns have risen regarding the psychological states of personnel working on SCP-270.
What I'm talking about, of course, are the natural issues that arise when you have a situation like this. Namely, putting a bunch of highly intelligent, motivated, tenacious people together and ordering them to solve a puzzle that may or may not have a solution. And telling them that lives may depend upon their success or failure.
Recently, Dr. █████, by some superhuman effort, cracked ██ minutes' worth of cipher that had been discarded by communal agreement as a ‘dud' and [DATA EXPUNGED] resulting in the aversion of a ██ end-of-the-world scenario. This has not been beneficial for the mental states of many personnel, as every ‘dud' they discard may contain information regarding an equally disastrous event. Since then, there have been rapidly emerging paranoia and/or obsession-related disorders. Some personnel are beginning to insist that the most trivial details of the cipher contain important messages, others have not slept or eaten in days in their pursuits, and still others have suffered from psychotic breakdowns.
Outpost Delta has since been supplied with more personnel in an attempt to spread the workload more thinly. However, the effects of having a few days of diligent work crumble into a ‘dud,' repeatedly, have proven to be an absolute disaster for morale and, at times, mental stability. Currently, we only have enough staff to decode roughly ██% of the cipher.
So far, reassigning personnel after a ██-month stay at Outpost Delta, applying Class A amnestics, and returning them to work on 270-1 at the end of a ██-month period of low-pressure jobs has worked fairly well as a short-term solution. This, however, requires a rather large number of personnel to be continually circulating in and out of Outpost Delta to maintain the minimum amount of staff required to decode the greater portion of what comes out of SCP-270.
In addition, long-term circulation through Outpost Delta has been shown to ingrain certain paranoid and obsessive mental behaviors that Class A amnestics don't wipe clean.
[DATA EXPUNGED] nature of SCP-270, this is exactly what it wants, if certain people are to be trusted [DATA EXPUNGED] disconcerting to said O5 member. [REDACTED] not in fact a method of safe communication between unknown entities, as originally hypothesized, but rather [DATA EXPUNGED].
I request for this matter to be discussed more in-depth sometime in the near future.
-Dr. ██████

« SCP-269 | SCP-270 | SCP-271 »


SCP-271

Item #: SCP-271
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-271 is to be stored as long as possible in Containment Unit !12 in ███ █ █████ ████████████████████ ██ ████ on a meter-high stone pedestal (SCP-271-01), which will be flooded with water and sealed off in a hollow 5-cm-thick sphere, composed of glass saturated with iron. Permanent neodymium-████████ magnets will be mounted around the (standard-sized) room to suspend the sphere in-air and repel unwanted intruders. The room will be lined with pyrolytic carbon to contain the magnetic field generated by the magnets. The door to the room is to be left unguarded and disguised as an ordinary janitorial closet, and kept locked by an unobtrusive password box mounted in the wall down the hallway and around the corner that appears to be a thermostat. Dr. Vg is to change the password on a monthly basis. All study is to be observation-only until further notice. In case of unauthorized access electromagnets in the room are to be activated by remote to destroy the glass sphere so that recovery may be simplified.
Description: SCP-271 is a small disk, composition unknown but metallic in nature, a little more than 4 cm in diameter, and engraved with a number of symbols that may or may not represent an unknown alphabet. These symbols are infectious to their environment over time, gradually appearing as if invisibly carved into nearby objects. They are capable of escaping through any hole, however minute, but have been demonstrated to be unable to penetrate non-gaseous fluids. Objects that carry the symbols for a sufficient time begin to be changed on a molecular level to the same material as the SCP; both the engraving and petrification processes are extremely painful to biotic organisms. The only known method for purging the symbols is the destruction of the object, and it is not possible to do this to SCP-271 itself.
At this time both SCP-271 and SCP-271-01 are thoroughly coated with the engraved symbols and seem to "swim" slightly - Dr. Vg and other observers have described them as looking "like the far side of a heat wave" or "not quite all there". The symbols also appear to have fractalized somewhat; studies with vision-enhancing equipment have revealed miniature symbols inside and around the larger carvings on both objects.
SCP-271 was a previously unknown SCP recently acquired from a shrine belonging to the Church of the Broken God by Mobile Armed Task Force 12 when [DATA EXPUNGED]. It was previously stored in a room of its own, which documents note was to be kept sealed "until the assembly was ready". Documents acquired at the same time suggest that [DATA EXPUNGED]. The platform is original; on account of the extensive writing on the room in which it was contained, the shrine itself was pulverized. However, due to rapid retaliation by enemy forces, the remnants of MATF-12 were forced to [DATA EXPUNGED]. Contact has been reestablished, but the nature of the SCP and the enemy seekers prevent easy recovery, and it is currently considered more advisable for the SCP to remain hidden if comparatively unprotected than to attract attention by launching a very expensive recovery mission. MATF-12 has been ordered to conform itself into CU-!12 (the exclamation mark denoting their atypical existence outside of a secured SCP Foundation area).
Addendum: SCP-271 is not to be brought into the presence of SCP-882.
EMERGENCY BULLETIN: Reports from other embedded sources indicate that as of ██-██-████ the Church is aware of CU-!12 and the location of SCP-271, and is planning an imminent assault against the unit. SCP-271 is to be kept out of enemy hands at all costs. CU-!12 has been ordered to mobilize and prepare for evacuation. A recovery team is being prepared for immediate deployment under the direction of Agent DuPont. A more detailed report is to follow.

« SCP-270 | SCP-271 | SCP-272 »