SCP-375, cognitohazard redacted.

Item #: SCP-375
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: The shopping mall where SCP-375 is located has been purchased by the Foundation and repurposed as Site 375, a Site for the monitoring of SCP-375 and storage of Safe-class SCP objects. The main sign on the front face of SCP-375 is to remain concealed at all times; test subjects are to be shown photographs during experimentation. Testing of SCP-375 is only to take place on D-Class personnel, who are exempt from monthly termination in order to study the cumulative effects of SCP-375 exposure.
Description: SCP-375 is a former Wells Fargo bank located in Casper, Wyoming. The signage on the building and front door has been anomalously modified to read “Temporal Credit Union” while retaining the original Wells Fargo typeface. A series of eleven humanoid entities (designated SCP-375-A) remain present within the building at all times, equipped in matching uniforms and claiming to be employees of SCP-375.
SCP-375's anomalous properties manifest when any subject views its main sign and/or interacts with the SCP-375-A instances inside the building. During Phase I of SCP-375 infection, subjects will feel compelled to exchange items of personal sentimental value via deposit and withdrawal. Between 12-24 hours after a deposit has been made, the deposited item will be replaced with an extra-universal object (designated SCP-375-B) that is superficially similar to the original, but apparently from one of many alternate realities. Examples of items that have been retrieved from Phase I tests are provided in the table below.
Phase I Experimental Data:

Subject
Item Deposited
SCP-375-B Instance

D-34924
Autographed trading card of Major League Baseball player Albert Pujols.
Autographed trading card of Albert Pujols for the “North American Baseball League.” Pujols is listed as having played for the Seattle Pilots from 2001-2010 and the St. Louis Browns from 2011-2022.

D-30246
Pennies produced by SCP-1015. Subject was an SCP-1015-2 instance.
1974 United States nickels.1 SCP-1015's effects seem to cease while subject is inside the bank. Upon leaving, subject's anomalous properties are altered so that nickels identical to those acquired within SCP-375 are produced in place of the previous pennies.

D-99411
2009 school yearbook from Sandalwood High School in Jacksonville, Florida, United States.
2009 school yearbook from Revolution High School in Harkinsville, Florida, People's Republic of America. Yearbook editorials focus on the eternal struggle against capitalism, the importance of accepting Cuban refugees from “the reactionary Havana regime”, and miscellaneous local developments.

D-12539
Autographed copy of the autobiography Under a Cruel Star by Heda Margolius Kovály.
Autographed copy of the autobiography Fortress Prague by Heda Margolius Kovály. Narrative recounts the author's life in fascist ruled Europe beginning with the March 1939 invasion of Czechoslovakia by the Greater German Reich and ending with the Allied liberation of the continent in 1951. The author frequently expresses guilt for doing nothing to prevent the deportation and extermination of her friends and neighbors. A note has been added to the author's signature which reads “To [D-12539] - may Europe rise from the ashes.”

Approximately 80% of affected subjects will not progress past Phase I and will continue to use SCP-375 to exchange their possessions indefinitely. However, 20% of affected subjects will experience Phase II of infection within six months of initial exposure. After this phase begins, SCP-375-A instances will begin asking about participating in the “Temporal Exchange Program”. Consent to participate will invariably be given by all affected subjects by the third time SCP-375-A instances ask about the program. Once subjects agree, they will follow instances to the employee section of SCP-375 and enter the building's bank vault.
12-24 hours after their disappearance, a humanoid with physical characteristics identical or near-identical to that of the previous subject will exit from the bank. These humanoids (designated SCP-375-C) also appear to come from alternate realities and are often wearing dramatically different attire than the original test subject. Examples of humanoids that have been retrieved from Phase II tests are provided in the table below.
Phase II Experimental Data:

SCP-375-C Instance
Clothing Worn Upon Retrieval
Information Obtained From SCP-375-C

D-99411 Equivalent
Non-standard Foundation lab coat.
Instance claimed to be a researcher at the nonexistent Site-13, and described a reality in which the Foundation and the Global Occult Coalition worked together to utilize and/or destroy anomalous phenomena. Instance is apparently non-anomalous and was assigned to a humanoid containment wing at a nearby Site pending possible Foundation employment.

D-40013 Equivalent
Civilian clothing.
Instance appeared to be heavily intoxicated and was determined to be under the influence of several anomalous drugs. When asked for the date, instance claimed it was “Liberary 32nd” and expressed irritation at the Foundation for interrupting its participation in a hedonistic festival. If accurate, this marks the first known ocurrence of a subject being successfully removed from an SCP-3455 event in progress.

D-34289 Equivalent
Civilian clothing, c. 1920s.
Instance displayed anomalous monochromacy, with its clothing and skin appearing as black and white in a manner similar to a vintage photograph. Instance remained highly distressed and loudly vocalized in pain for five minutes before its eyes appeared to transform into large, anomalous white orbs and removed themselves from its body. Instance expired 15 minutes later while repeatedly expressing dismay at losing contact with “the beautiful blue."

Jr. Researcher Ólafsson Equivalent
Non-standard Foundation field uniform.
See Addendum 375-A.

Addendum 375-A: In July 2018, it was discovered that Jr. Researcher Ólafsson, a researcher assigned to SCP-375, had been using SCP-375 on himself without authorization from his superiors. After this activity was uncovered and disciplinary action had been taken, close analysis of SCP-375-B instances produced by Ólafsson's tests concluded that he had likely exchanged SCP object documentation with the SCP-375-A instances. Upon interrogation, Ólafsson admitted this was true and said each copy submitted was a printed documentation of an SCP object which had properties or containment procedures that personally interested him, thus fulfilling SCP-375's item criteria. Several SCP-375-B instances produced by Jr. Researcher Ólafsson are summarized below:

Original SCP Documentation
Retrieved Documentation

SCP-173, a hostile Euclid-class anomalous sculpture that is incapable of moving when observed.
Phenom #173, a publicly displayed anomalous art sculpture that changes its appearance when left unobserved for 1 second every 24 hours.

SCP-4839, a Euclid-class infohazard that causes Foundation employees to believe select non-anomalous items must be contained.
SCP-4839, an Apollyon-class infohazard that caused the Foundation to destroy human civilization in an attempt to “contain” every object in existence.

SCP-375, baseline documentation.
SCP-375, an anomalous bank which compels subjects to deposit items into it and eventually themselves and their family members. Subjects' body parts are then withdrawn in various states of dismemberment referred to as “compound interest.”

The altered SCP-375 documentation was recovered after an SCP-375-C instance similar to in appearance to Jr. Researcher Ólafsson emerged from SCP-375 unprompted. This marked the first known spontaneous manifestation of an SCP-375-C instance without an equivalent "Temporal Exchange."

Footnotes
1. Close examination of the nickels revealed they do not match coins produced by the United States Treasury in the 1970s, and depict Harriet Tubman in place of Thomas Jefferson.

« SCP-374 | SCP-375 | SCP-376 »


Item #: SCP-376
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-376 is to remain in the Secure Agriculture Facility at Site-██. It is to be linked to a single underground electric cable that is to be powered by a single generator not attached to the main power grid. There is no need for any additional security measures to contain SCP-376 other than the existing security at the Secure Agriculture Facility.
Description: SCP-376 appears to be an irregular traffic light with an excessive amount of components attached, resembling more of a tree than a standard traffic light. However, SCP-376 is not a man-made object, but is in fact a naturally occurring organism. It is currently unknown how or why SCP-376 has managed to mimic the appearance of a traffic light.
Testing has revealed that the exterior of SCP-376 is composed of organic material rather than steel, similar to wood found in regular trees. The bark that it produces hardens to form a protective coating around SCP-376 that takes the appearance of steel. However, while the bark does appear and feel like steel to the touch, it is not nearly as strong, being only able to withstand stresses similar to regular tree bark. The light that SCP-376 produces is a form of bio-luminescence, which it is able to manipulate to glow in the three colors commonly associated with traffic lights: red, green, and yellow. SCP-376 is somehow able to control which light activates and does so in a predictable sequence, though it is not known how or why.
Extended observation of SCP-376 shows that it has an uncontrolled growth rate, necessitating constant care and trimming. Each individual traffic light begins as a bud, but will quickly mature into a full size traffic light within several minutes. The appearance of a new light on SCP-376 typically happens every nine to ten days. Removing one of the lights causes it to cease functioning, and the wound caused in SCP-376 will immediately be closed by growing extra bark. If left alone, the detached light will eventually biodegrade and rot like any other organism.
Unlike other plants, SCP-376 does not use photosynthesis to sustain itself. Instead, its roots will dig through the pavement and ground towards the nearest power line. SCP-376's roots are capable of penetrating underground power lines and patching into them, effectively attaching itself to the local power grid. SCP-376 uses the electricity it obtains as the primary energy to create its food.
In terms of reproduction, SCP-376 has a unique method of propagating itself. Rather than using regular spores or seeds, SCP-376 is able to transfer "seedlings" through the power grid it is connected to, meaning that a new instance of SCP-376 can be created anywhere the power lines reach. For further information, see Experiment Log 376A.
SCP-376 was found during rush hour in ██████████, California on a busy intersection. The entire event was explained as an art exhibition and SCP-376 was promptly relocated to its current location in the Secure Agriculture Facility.
Experiment Log 376A: Once it was discovered that SCP-376 required electricity to survive, it was attached to Site-██'s power grid. This mistake was quickly realized when on-site staff began reporting the appearance of additional traffic lights scattered around the facility. Once these lights were removed, SCP-376 was connected to a separate power grid that was laid under a specially constructed test area. After analyzing the results, it was discovered that SCP-376 is somehow able to discern which areas it can grow without arousing undue suspicion. All recorded test subjects were reported to grow in areas where traffic light placement would be logical. There is currently no explanation to how SCP-376 is able to control where it grows so effectively.
Experiment Log 376B: After continued testing, it became known that SCP-376 is not restricted to just traffic lights. After several weeks of observation, it was noted that additional structures began appearing. So far, the forms instances of SCP-376 can take include but are not limited to: Fire hydrants, power lines, street lights, and street signs.
Experiment Log 376C: After additional testing and observation, it was discovered that the SCP-376 currently contained is an abnormality, even among its own kind. DNA comparison between itself and other subjects show that it is suffering from some kind of defect that causes it to grow uncontrollably, which could explain how it was discovered so quickly.
Addendum 1: After cross-analyzing Department of Transportation records and total national power consumption, Foundation analysts have estimated that there may be as many as [DATA EXPUNGED] instances of SCP-376 in the continental United States alone. Containment teams are currently being mobilized to search for these instances.

« SCP-375 | SCP-376 | SCP-377 »


Item #: SCP-377
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-377 is kept in the Personnel break room, third cabinet to the left of the refrigerator. Any personnel desiring a cookie from SCP-377 may take one (1), and only one cookie, every 48 hours, to ensure that all personnel get a share. Personnel read their fortunes at their own risk.
Description: SCP-377 is a box of La Choy brand fortune cookies. The box was full when it was recovered from [DATA EXPUNGED] and has since restocked itself regularly every 12 hours.
The cookies within the box are individually wrapped (for freshness, according to the box) and are, according to all tests, totally ordinary. Each cookie contains one (1) 18mm by 58mm piece of paper, on which a "fortune" is written in blue ink. All of these properties are consistent with a box of cookies from this brand.
However, the "fortunes" contained within each cookie are not consistent with those provided by the standard product. "Fortunes" appear to be specific to the individual opening the cookie and have thus far shown to be 100% accurate, ranging from vague indications of coming success to specific predictions regarding personnel's personal lives. The "fortunes" are not, however, always positive.
It is unknown whether the fortune cookies actively predict future events, or in fact cause future events to occur.

Document #377-01: The following is a partial log of some of the more notable "fortunes" given out by SCP-377.
"Fortune" text: "It's a boy!"

Corresponding result: Subject's wife's water broke less than an hour later. The child was male.

"Fortune" text: "The weather is really just not your friend today."

Corresponding result: Subject was struck by lightning later on the same day. Subject made a full recovery.

"Fortune" text: "Keep playing; you're going to win soon."

Corresponding result: Subject was a regular player in the state lottery, buying two lottery tickets a week. Four weeks after receiving this "fortune," subject won over 100 million U.S. dollars.

"Fortune" text: "Life is laughter; enjoy it while you can."

Corresponding result: Subject suffered an Aneurysm leading to massive hemorrhaging and sudden death. This occurred while subject was laughing.

"Fortune" text: "Duck."

Corresponding result: [DATA EXPUNGED]

Addendum: Following SCP-377's prediction of the deaths of several personnel, a request was submitted to upgrade SCP-377's class to Keter. These were denied, citing a lack of evidence that SCP-377 had any actual connection to the causes of the deaths.
Addendum: Dr. ██████ received a fortune reading, "You don't have long to live." Dr. ██████ was then startled by a guard who entered the break room, and began to choke on the cookie. The guard did not know the Heimlich maneuver and Dr. ██████ tragically suffocated and died. This has been regarded as an accident and coincidence.
Note from Agent ████: I strongly discourage the recreational use of SCP-377. Knowing the future sucks all the fun out of life, believe me, I know.

« SCP-376 | SCP-377 | SCP-378 »


NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
Following the implementation of the Kraken Protocol on 27/06/1963, containment procedures for SCP-378 have been updated. Personnel assigned to the SCP-378 project are to review its updated documentation as soon as possible.
— Claudia Southey, Director, RAISA

Item #: SCP-378
Object Class: Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-378 is to be contained in a Subterranean Entity Containment Terrarium. Temperature and humidity are to be maintained at levels optimal for the growth and habitation of Heterodermia kaincrow1 and Prenolepis everettmann2. Twice per year, SCP-378 is to undergo a medical and psychological examination.
Access to SCP-378's containment terrarium is separated from the surrounding facility by a decontamination chamber. Handling personnel are required to wear full-body protection, and must be screened for SCP-378-A prior to exiting decontamination. Infected personnel are to be terminated unless the position of SCP-378-1 or -3 is vacant, in which case they are to be assigned to the relevant position instead.
As of the adoption of the Kraken Protocol, SCP-378's containment is focused on maintaining its three primary containment components:

SCP-378-1 is housed in the Area-19 barracks. SCP-378-1 is employed as a maintenance technician with a security clearance of 0/A19. Upon the death of the current SCP-378-1, brain-dead or comatose reserve personnel may be elected to replace it. As SCP-378-1 is the primary means of communication with SCP-378, care must be maintained to keep SCP-378-1's vocal functions in working order.
SCP-378-2 currently takes the form of David Lockheed, a 36-year-old Caucasian male in the employ of the American Supernatural Containment Initiative (ASCI) as a clerical aid. To maintain the continued operations of the SCP Foundation in the United States, SCP-378-2 has been tasked with sabotaging ASCI operations against the Foundation, as well as collecting information in the Foundation's interests. SCP-378-2 is expected to follow a strict health and exercise regimen, due to the inherent difficulty in replacing it.
SCP-378-3 currently takes the form of Lisa Martin, a 33-year old Mexican-American female employee at the Spicy Crust Pizza in Staten Island. In the event of SCP-378-3's death, it must be replaced as soon as possible.

Each component is fitted with a tracking device and an audio recorder. Each week, embedded agents stationed near each component are to evaluate the health and integrity of each component and its associated surveillance equipment. The utilization of SCP-378-A in further infiltration is pending Foundation Overwatch approval.
Description: SCP-378 is an arthropod superficially resembling a deformed larval instance of Scolopendra gigantea3. SCP-378's legs are largely vestigial, primarily meant to assist in peristaltic locomotion. SCP-378 measures 3 meters from mouth to anus, with a bodily thickness of 1 meter and a weight of 233 kilograms. Under normal conditions, SCP-378 is an omnivore, with a diet consisting primarily of lichen and insects.
SCP-378 is capable of asexual reproduction at will, producing instances of SCP-378-A from its anus. Instances of SCP-378-A resemble adult Scolopendra gigantea; dissection suggests this resemblance is superficial, as SCP-378-A lack expected organ systems beyond a primitive neural network. Instances of SCP-378-A are controlled remotely by SCP-378.
SCP-378-A are obligate endoparasites, infecting advanced primates such as humans, Homo ignotus4, and Gigantopithecus sapiens5. Upon infection, SCP-378-A integrates itself with its host's nervous system through poorly-understood means, inducing brain death and extending SCP-378's remote control to the host itself. Vital functions and sensory input remain unaffected.
Upon infecting a suitable host, SCP-378 will attempt to reintegrate its hosts into their respective species's social sphere. Once integrated, SCP-378 directs its hosts to indefinitely engage in the behaviors typical for its species, such as communal labor and social recreation. Human hosts prefer environments with a high population-density and a robust entertainment scene.
The upper limit of active hosts SCP-378 can maintain at any one time is unknown. Upon initial interrogation, SCP-378 confessed to the existence of twenty-six human hosts, as well as two instances of Alouatta pigra6 and three instances of SCP-10007, of which it noted had been acquired during a period of heavy intoxication.

Addendum 178-294b:

A Psychological Evaluation of SCP-378
Conducted by Dr. Simon Glass

Tentatively designated Scolopendra anomalia, SCP-378 is unique among arthropods, possessing either human levels of sapience or the ability to emulate its hosts' intellectual faculties. In any case, SCP-378 is self-aware and remarkably intelligent.
SCP-378's relationship to its hosts is complicated; while SCP-378 maintains a consistent sense of identity across multiple hosts, each is treated as a persona for SCP-378 to roleplay. Hosts rarely interact with SCP-378 or fellow hosts, suggesting SCP-378 primarily utilizes its anomalous abilities for entertainment. This is further suggested by SCP-378's readiness to abandon such personas under duress.
Aside from integration into human social spheres, host behavior is largely unique to each instance. Extroversion is relatively common; hosts rarely isolate themselves except to sleep or excrete. SCP-378 appears to take equal enthusiasm in stressful versus pleasant situations.
Of note: SCP-378 is particularly attached to the identity of Lisa Martin. In contrast to other hosts, Lisa Martin's weekly routine is relatively static:

From 8 AM to 6 PM on all days except Saturday, Ms. Martin will show up to work at the nearest pizzeria from the former location of Digiannantonio's Pies, regardless of employment status or scheduled hours.
From 6 PM to 11 PM on all days except Saturday, Ms. Martin will engage in the maintenance of one of seventeen rooftop gardens across the City of New York. Of these, thirteen are maintained by a co-operative, twelve of which Ms. Martin is not a part of.
From 8 AM to 11 PM on Saturdays, Ms. Martin alternates between socializing with a collection of friends, coworkers, and lovers, and playing piano for various high-end bars.
From 11 PM to 12 AM, Ms. Martin will shower and prepare for bed.
Ms. Martin will sleep from 12 AM to 7 AM, when she will wake up and prepare for the next cycle.

In the event of Ms. Martin's death, SCP-378 will direct another host to assume her identity. Attempts to interrupt Ms. Martin's routine have been unilaterally met with unusual levels of hostility from SCP-378 and its hosts.

From: DHeiden@Scipnet (Assistant Director Daniela Heiden, Classification Level RAISA-4; Employee Number 134)
To: Dir19_KFeinstein@Scipnet (Director Kelsey Feinstein; Classification Level XK-4; Employee Number 87)
Re: Re:Re:Re:Identifying current hosts
Date: 27/04/1963
Director Feinstein,
Mr. Song and Dr. Glass's work have revealed quite a bit about SCP-378. Most importantly, I do not believe it understands the significance of social dynamics, especially in regards to hierarchy and social capital.
Several of SCP-378's identities held surprising positions of power; indeed, two of them (David Lockheed and Alfonso Leoz) are beyond reach of the Foundation's current capacity to contain. Despite this, SCP-378 has shown a willingness to sacrifice such hosts in order to defend, replace, or otherwise maintain Lisa Martin. Odd, yes, but useful enough.
It'd be a shame if something were to happen to Ms. Martin and her friends, would it not?
SCP-378 is sapient, but it by no means understands the significance of its actions. With a little bit of persuasion, David Lockheed might yet ascend from petty paper pusher for the ASCI, right where the Foundation most needs a puppet. And if I'm not mistaken, Spicy Crust Pizza could always do with a second franchise.

Proposal: Employing SCP-378's anomalous abilities to defend Foundation operations in the United States.
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:

YEA
NAY
ABSTAIN

O5-01

O5-02

O5-03

O5-04

O5-05

O5-06

O5-07

O5-08

O5-09

O5-10

O5-11

O5-12

O5-13

STATUS

APPROVED

Proposal accepted. The Kraken Protocol has been initiated.

From: SSong1@Scipnet (Senior Researcher Sang-Hun Song; Classification Level γU-3; Employee Number 148)
To: Dir19_KFeinstein@Scipnet (Director Kelsey Feinstein; Classification Level XK-4; Employee Number 87)
Re: Delays in the γU-2677 Project
Date: 21/07/1965
So, good news and bad news, Director.
Good news, as I'm assuming you already heard: with the plans for construction of Site-56 (all thanks to a certain Mr. Lockheed), the Kraken Protocol's getting a much-needed expansion. With its relative proximity to both the Lily of the Valley nexus and the Pacific Northwest, it's a perfect opportunity to expand the scope of SCP-1000's containment while ensuring the ASCI doesn't suck LotV dry before we get to it.
For all its oddities, SCP-378 appears to be delighted at the prospect of a change in scenery. I can't imagine a tropical centipede grub likes having a sphere of influence limited to New England of all places, but that's besides the point. Its -A was compliant enough on the way there.
Which leads me to the bad news.
Rupert Tremont's a fun little guy. Agent of the FBI's unofficial "Unusual Incidents Unit" and all too stupid to trust Agent Ryans with his drink while he went to the restroom. After that, it's a matter of transport back to Provisional Area-56 in Black Rock and a centipede down the gullet. Problem comes up when 378 tells us it can't establish a connection. Now, Tremont's still alive, so that's not normal. We run a number of tests, try to figure out what went wrong.
And that's when we see a different centipede in his head, where our centipede usually goes.
More to come, but I have a bad feeling about this.

Footnotes
1. Utica Cave Lichen.
2. North American Cave Ant.
3. Amazonian Giant Centipede.
4. [DATA EXPUNGED]
5. Common Sasquatch.
6. Guatemalan Black Howler.
7. Research into SCP-378's apparent immunity to SCP-1000's anomalous effects is ongoing.

« SCP-377 | SCP-378 | SCP-379 »


Item #: SCP-379
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-379 is to be kept in vault-████ at Sector ████-█ when not in use. When being transported it should be carried in a locked and padded container, such as a padded briefcase, as the bottle is fragile. As our supply is limited, all testing and experimentation must be authorized by Dr. ███████ beforehand.
Description: SCP-379 is a translucent, pale, silver liquid contained in a small crystal bottle. The bottle is topped with an atomizer cap which delivers approximately one-half (.5) ml of the clear substance inside the bottle.
The bottle itself has no noted properties of any particular interest. However, the liquid inside (while scentless and ineffective to normal human beings) has the strange effect of inducing a state not unlike human infatuation upon electronic and mechanical devices. When applied to a person or some object, any machines or electronics in the vicinity (aside from those wearing SCP-379) will begin running in an overheated state, unable to process as many commands and consuming more energy.
For cybernetic systems or computers deemed 'sentient', the target seems to exhibit more humanistic qualities of typical 'infatuation' including:

A preference to be around or in contact with the wearer of SCP-379.
More willingness to cooperate with anyone in the room while the wearer of SCP-379 is present.
Slower response times in machines.
A slightly higher chance of minor glitches and malfunctions.

It has been suggested to expose aggressive SCPs such as SCP-███ to SCP-379 to see if the pheromone can reduce their aggressiveness, perhaps allowing us to ask more questions about their function. It has also been suggested to try SCP-379 on SCPs that are not mechanical and do not exist in our 3D, real-world state (as is the case of SCP-732) to see if the pheromone affects them; deemed unlikely.
There is no known reason as to how the sporting of SCP-379 affects most machines; SCP-379 does not release any sort of scent or detectable pheromone into the air. It has been suggested that SCP-379 has an electromagnetic frequency of some sort, but tests have proven this theory inconclusive. Further tests are to be limited until chemical composition is established to determine if SCP-379 can be artificially replicated.
Addendum 379-A: Experiments with SCP-379 and SCP-915 show that purely mechanical devices of sufficient complexity could be affected by SCP-379. SCP-915's intake of air increased threefold, but this was not accompanied by a detectable increase in computation speed. Requests have been made to test if the internal shifts of SCP-915 increase in response to SCP-379. Due to lack of quantities of SCP-379, continued experiments with SCP-915 are denied.

« SCP-378 | SCP-379 | SCP-380 »


Item #: SCP-380
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: This object should be kept connected to a small computer in health lab H██, in the off position. The object may be disconnected and moved to any computer that is capable of an internet connection, but by the request of Dr. ████████, should never be attached to a computer with internet access.
Description: SCP-380 is a small, blue box with an appearance not unlike an internet router. It has a single antenna, a few lights, a power switch and a single T3-line female connector. Although there is no plug for an outside source of electricity, SCP-380 will work when it is connected to a network-capable computer and the 'power' switch in the on position.
The device seems to be compatible with any computer it is connected to (hereafter referred to as SCP-380-1), and will open a large network connection; low-performance computers are commonly unable to maintain said connection. Instead of wireless connections to other networked computers, however, the network is made up of biological entities within a 15-meter radius. Entities compatible with this network include but are not limited to humans, animals, and plants.
As networked entities enter and leave the radius of connection, network connections are respectively formed and severed. Test subjects (and it is assumed all biological entities) are not aware that they are connected to a network. The only effect that is immediately obvious is the ability of SCP-380-1 to access biological components.
When a biological component is accessed, it contains a single text document readable by whichever operating system is utilized by SCP-380-1. Each text document contains variables such as 'heart rate', 'stress', and 'blood glucose level' - among various other physiological parameters, demonstrating accuracy surpassing that of modern technology.
Experiment 380-01: Attempts to edit any of the text documents kept in organic 'files' has responded with a message reading "ERROR 271: Data out of range.", and the loss of any changes made to the file.
Experiment 380-02: Normal health monitoring devices have shown the numbers reflected from organic 'files' to be accurate and therefore should be accepted as true. Requests to research SCP-380 as a potential health monitoring device are pending.

« SCP-379 | SCP-380 | SCP-381 »


The first leaf of SCP-381

Item #: SCP-381
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-381 is to be kept in a 23 x 31 cm document envelope in Storage Unit-05. Further containment procedure is not necessary under non-testing conditions. Non-Roman Catholic Christian (i.e., any Protestant denomination) research staff are not permitted to perform tests on SCP-381 due of the risk of combustion; other Abrahamic or non-religious personnel are not at risk.
Description: SCP-381 comprises 7 unbound pages of yellowing paper sheet music. Chemical analysis has confirmed that the ink on the paper is made of a mix of a solution of tannic acids with ferrous sulphate and gum, consistent with a recipe for ink contemporary with the paper's estimated year of production (15██ CE).
Each page contains 8 bars of a contrapuntal, polyphonic, Baroque choral composition with overlapping harmonies written for bass, baritone, tenor, and soprano/castrati vocal parts. None of the script is legible with the exception of the rubricated capitals interspersed throughout the piece.
Anyone who touches SCP-381 abruptly begins to sing from the beginning of the composition in a range suited to their age and gender but with professional-level competence. By measure █, other voices will have joined: such voices emerge from the air around the SCP, and sound like a choir made up of between ██ and ███ members, singing lyrics in Latin that translate to [DATA EXPUNGED]. When the singers reach measure ██, all non-Roman Catholic Christians in the area (including the singer, if applicable) will spontaneously burst into flame that extinguishes only upon cessation of life function and cannot be extinguished by any available means. The flame is otherwise normal, emitting heat and light as would be expected.
SCP-381 was recovered by Agent ██████ in █████, Spain on ██-██-██. It was found in an unopened envelope sealed with the arms of Philip II of Spain, along with the preserved skeleton of a messenger (further examination of the skeleton revealed probable cause of death as [DATA EXPUNGED]). Along with SCP-381, the envelope contained a written note to “HRM Elizabeth I on the event of her Coronation,” expressing Philip's congratulations and wishes for a prosperous rule, and the contents of the envelope are noted as “a composition to ryvle the beauty of even Your Majesty.” The missive is dated 28 December, 1558.
Addendum-381-1: Research in the Vatican Archives by Dr. ███████ with the help of Cardinal ████████ has revealed a work commissioned by Pope Paul IV matching the description of SCP-381, though no mention is made of any unusual combustive properties. The piece was commissioned from Italian composer ███████ █████████, who notably vanished after he [DATA EXPUNGED].
Although this information is largely irrelevant to the status of the SCP today, it is of great historical interest when framed in the politics of the Protestant reformation and Catholic counter-reformation. General Bowe is obviously not the first to try to weaponize SCPs. – Dr. ███████

« SCP-380 | SCP-381 | SCP-382 »


Item #: SCP-382
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-382-1 is to be stored in a standard Site-██ containment room, inside a 1.5 x 1.5 x 1.5 meter plexiglass box of 5 centimeter thickness, at minimum. A video camera is to be kept trained on it at all times, though this is merely for observational purposes. Due to the area of influence and deleterious nature of SCP-382's effect, it should only be removed from its enclosure for testing purposes, with staff observing from a remote location.
The manifestation of SCP-382-2 has so far been confined to SCP-382-1, and therefore requires no special containment procedures beyond those already in place for SCP-382-1. See addendum 382-A. No personnel (Class-D or otherwise) should interact with SCP-382-1 for more than 2 hours, unless accompanied by at least one armed Agent.
Description: In its inactive state, SCP-382-1 is a large baby carriage, manufactured in 19██ by █████, ██████████ & ██████ of ██████████, England. Its age shows; metal components are heavily rusted, the rubber of the tires is brittle, and the cushion is missing.
SCP-382-2 appears to be an infant, between █ and ██ months old, extremely emaciated, with several injuries that seem to vary with each manifestation. On different occasions, SCP-382-2 has shown heavy bruising, broken bones, and sometimes [DATA EXPUNGED] despite which 382-2 could still make vocalizations, although it is unknown how this was possible. When SCP-382-1 is not being interacted with, SCP-382-2 manifests every ██ to ██ minutes, staying between █ and █ minutes. However, when a person places their hands on the handlebars of the carriage, 382-2 will instantly manifest, and the period of time of both disappearance and reappearance will decrease to approximately 1 second.
Any person who makes visual contact with SCP-382-1 (from now on referred to as "the subject") is compelled to approach it and place their hands on its handlebar. While manifesting only intermittently, SCP-382-2 appears to compound the effect when the subject sees it. This effect does not transmit through video feeds, transparent objects, or anything else that would separate SCP-382-1 and its "victim", and once the subject is in contact with SCP-382-1, no one else will be influenced until the subject has died and SCP-382 has reset. As soon as the subject comes into physical contact with SCP-382-1 and SCP-382-2 has manifested, they appear to enter a trance, in which they will propel SCP-382-1 in a small circle and make noises directed at SCP-382-2, apparently intended to be soothing. As time passes, the subject will begin to weaken and their body will begin to degrade, while SCP-382-1 slowly begins to take on a new, shinier appearance; rust will begin to flake off, revealing shiny metal underneath, the rubber wheels will become more supple, and a velvet cushion will appear inside. At the same time, each successive manifestation of SCP-382-2 will appear with fewer and fewer injuries, while looking less and less emaciated. The subject will continue to interact with SCP-382 up until just under two hours, at which point they will perish due to massive, widespread organ failure. As of yet, no subject has lasted for more than two hours See addendum 382-A
Once the subject has perished, SCP-382-2 will disappear and SCP-382-1 will return to its former, derelict appearance within 30 minutes.
Addendum 382-A:
On ██/██/20██, my research team and I began testing to determine whether a person of sufficient youth and physical fitness could sustain interaction with SCP-382 past the two hour mark. D-382-gtf87i was chosen for his age (only ██ years) and because he had been a physical trainer prior to [DATA EXPUNGED], and kept in shape throughout his incarceration at [REDACTED]. His exposure to SCP-382 proceeded as normal, though the physical degradation appeared to progress at a slower rate than previous test subjects. After the 2 hour mark, with D-382-gtf87i still living, though in extremely poor condition, SCP-382-2 manifested as usual, but did not disappear 1 second later. SCP-382-2 then [DATA EXPUNGED], consuming the then mummified corpse of D-382-gtf87i, and proceeded to [DATA EXPUNGED]. Fortunately, only one other Class-D was killed before SCP-382-2 was terminated by Agent ████████, but the event has necessitated the amending of the SCP-382-2's special containment procedures somewhat. I don't feel that this warrants a change in classification level.
- Dr. ██████

« SCP-381 | SCP-382 | SCP-383 »


Item #: SCP-383
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: All samples of SCP-383 must be kept in standard airtight, plastic containers frozen into ice blocks, and stored in a locker kept at -5 degrees Celsius at all times. All samples of SCP-383 removed for testing must be handled with a minimum safety equipment of a face mask, latex gloves, and protective goggles (optional if personnel already wear prescription glasses.) Personnel are reminded to wash hands after handling SCP-383 related materials.
All suspected and confirmed infections of SCP-383 will be treated with personnel, and anyone they have had direct contact within the frame of infection, placed into quarantine for the duration of testing. A confirmed case of SCP-383 will result in personnel being placed under a week-long quarantine and placed on antivirals until testing reveals that SCP-383 is fully flushed from the system. Infected civilians are to be treated similarly, and given a Class B Amnestic, and told that they are in quarantine for a highly virulent new strain of the flu, and the cause of the outbreak must be identified.
All objects created by SCP-383 must be cataloged, along with the current state of the host. Hosts of SCP-383 will be given a high-nutrition IV drip and unless Class-D testing is in operation, hosts will be kept mildly sedated and in safe, hospitable situations.
For obvious security reasons, SCP-383 may not be introduced to any other SCP's.
Description: SCP-383 is a viral infection, first categorized as a variant of influenza. The initial symptoms of SCP-383 are similar to those of the common cold, ranging through a variety of aches and pains, sinus issues, sore throat, upset stomach, coughing and sneezing, and fatigue. It appears to only be capable of infecting human hosts, but has been observed to be carried by other animals, such as rats and pigeons. Similar to a common infection, SCP-383 will work its way through the human body naturally within a few days, or faster with routine antivirals.
However, SCP-383 is also accompanied by extreme waves of nausea. Along with bringing up the contents of the host's stomach, SCP-383 appears to be capable of, through unknown means, producing random items. These items are always sized appropriately to the host's mouth, even if it appears infeasible for them to originate from the stomach, suggesting that these items are actually produced either in the mouth or throat. More often than not, these items are useful, individually, to the host.
For example, a host inside of a locked room may regurgitate a key, or a lockpick set, or a crowbar to pry the door open. While the results are far from consistent, the only pattern shown is that SCP-383 always produces items of use to the host in one way or another. SCP-383 has even been observed to create living animals and complex mechanical devices.
Although SCP-383 would seem to have great potential as a Foundation asset, it should be noted that these items do not spontaneously appear. Rather, they are created from biomass from the human body. Victims are prone to anemia, nutrition loss, bone damage, and severe weight loss depending upon the fashion of items produced. Items that contain substances not found often inside the human body are often replaced with similar substances, or missing non-vital parts.
Infections can also cause damage to the mouth and esophagus, and a weakening of the immune system. Hosts have also been observed to have a risk of choking on any items produced from SCP-383. Hosts of SCP-383 also report some difficulty swallowing foods, and the relatively consistent nausea makes it difficult to consume or digest any foods or liquids, occasionally resulting in dehydration.
Due to SCP-383's highly virulent nature, occasional mutations can occur, resulting in SCP-383 strains that cause the host to regurgitate unsafe items or substances such as boiling-hot liquids or knives, that injure or kill the host. Other somewhat common SCP-383 strains include a similar effect to the parent virus, but manifesting its item-creation abilities through fecal excretion instead.
Extra risk may be taken to prevent further strains of SCP-383 from developing, as a strain capable of infecting nonhuman entities or with an entirely fatal reaction could prove disastrous.
Outbreaks of SCP-383 outside the SCP facility have been observed and contained, see addendum for details.
Addendum:
[[AWAITING DECLASSIFICATION]]

« SCP-382 | SCP-383 | SCP-384 »


Item #: SCP-384
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Containment Unit-077, located directly outside Site-19, houses the current manifestation of SCP-384. It is to be outfitted with standard Foundation recording devices, and must be situated such that it cannot be considered part of Site-19. SCP-384 must be the only way to enter or exit Containment Unit-077, unless an experiment requires the destruction of SCP-384, in which case the directing Level 4 researcher must approve the installation of an additional entryway in Containment Unit-077.
When in use for experimentation, SCP-384 is to be observed at all times via closed circuit television. If remote observation fails for any reason, all personnel assigned to SCP-384 are to be notified, and only personnel with permission from the supervising Level 4 researcher may enter Containment Unit-077. Personnel entering during the event of an observation failure must observe SCP-384 at all times. Failure by any personnel to do so will result in a complete lockdown of Containment Unit-077 and Site-19 passageways leading to it, with normal operation to only resume at the overseeing Level 4 researcher's command. Offending personnel are to be severely reprimanded.
During experimentation, only approved personnel may converse with SCP-384-1. Conversations must be broken up into one-minute intervals. Interviewers must pause conversation at the one minute mark, wait at least thirty seconds, and then resume conversation.
As of 3/22/20██, all researchers experimenting with SCP-384 must be accompanied by at least two armed guards. Personnel entering Containment Unit-077 will be subject to a standard Dangerous Material Search before being allowed entrance.
Description: SCP-384 is currently the access door to Containment Unit-077. SCP-384 has a variable form; any door installed in the same building as it can spontaneously take on its properties. This transfer will also occur if SCP-384 is destroyed. When recovered from a raid on a Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. auction, SCP-384 had been contained in a similar manner, with it isolated in a separate building with only one available door for it to inhabit.
Two conditions must be met for SCP-384's effects to begin: it must be opened by a human being and must be closed by a human being while being unobserved by any possible means of observation, cameras and other electronic devices included. If these conditions are met, liquid tar will begin to flow out from under SCP-384 and fill the room that it currently occupies at a rate of about 6.5 L/second. The tar is incapable of pooling into a depth of more than three centimeters, but will instead climb up and adhere to the walls and ceiling of the room. There will only be a cessation of tar flow when the floor, walls, and ceiling of the room have been coated. Both the source and the means of production of the tar are unknown. Besides its unusual adhesive properties, the tar has no paranormal effects and will behave completely normally once taken out of a room (hence its lack of an SCP designation).
During the coating process, individuals inside the affected room can leave easily. However, once the process is complete all open doors in the affected room will close and automatically lock. Doors cannot be unlocked, even if lock-picks are used, but they can be destroyed.
The second stage of effects takes place immediately after the conclusion of the first stage. Subjects who have not already escaped the affected room report the voice of a female human child, designated SCP-384-1. It is only audible within SCP-384's room; recording devices placed directly outside the room cannot hear the voice.
SCP-384-1 has been described as polite and cooperative. It claims that its name is ███████ ████, reported missing by her family in 196█. When asked about its current whereabouts, SCP-384-1 will say that it cannot see anything or hear anything besides the interrogator's voice. SCP-384-1 apparently knows nothing of SCP-384 or its properties. An excerpt of an interview log is given below:

Interview Log-384-22, 00:14:12
Dr. F████: Please describe your surroundings.
SCP-384-1: It's dark, doctor. I can't even see in front of my face. What are you seeing now?
Dr. F████: My current surroundings are fine, thank you very much. Is there anything else you would like to tell me about where you are?
SCP-384-1: Sorry, doctor. I don't really know how I got here. All I know is that it's dark and I'm hungry and I wish that I was at home. I'm sorry that I can't tell you more.
By this point, several experiments had been conducted using both the tar inside the room and SCP-384 itself. These experiments included superheating the tar, reducing the entire room to a vacuum, and destroying select portions of SCP-384.
Dr. F████: Did you observe any changes in your surroundings since the beginning of my interview?
SCP-384-1: No, nothing. The only thing that changed was when I heard you start talking. Please, come back soon, it's very dark in here.
Dr. F████: Thank you, that will be all.

Despite the fact that any juvenile individual would express considerable distress if placed in SCP-384-1's situation, SCP-384-1 has been described as "remarkably well-adjusted" by interviewing psychologists. Dr. F████ has remarked upon the unusual level of vocabulary and maturity that SCP-384-1 possesses, and has suggested that it is possibly deceiving Foundation interviewers, though his hypotheses are but conjecture and should be regarded as such.
If any individual maintains conversation with SCP-384-1 for more than one minute and forty-four seconds (1:44), SCP-384-1 will request that they walk towards SCP-384 and open it. Directions will never refer to SCP-384 as a "door" or "the exit," but instead as "the light." Furthermore, SCP-384-1 will gauge personnel's location relative to SCP-384 by the sound of an individual's footsteps or breathing: personnel who walk away from SCP-384 apparently sound softer to SCP-384-1.
Once an individual is positioned directly in front of SCP-384, he or she will be instructed to “reach forwards.” At this point in conversation, most individuals report that SCP-384-1 has taken on a pleading tone of voice. It is impossible to conventionally open SCP-384 without otherwise damaging or destroying it, but individuals who at this point attempt to open SCP-384 are encompassed by an abrupt explosion of [DATA EXPUNGED]. No recorded alternate dimensions correspond to the location observed through SCP-384, though personnel who have been to the Los Angeles La Brea tar fields have reported similarities. Retrieval attempts have been deemed by Dr. F████ to be too risky, given that the only personnel lost so far have been D-Class. SCP-384-1 will express confusion at this event and will repeatedly ask why the light has vanished. Interviewers noted increased signs of distress after this event occurs.
Twelve minutes after the commencement of the second stage, SCP-384-1 will cease talking, and all tar will drain from the room.
Addendum-384A: When asked for information about Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd., SCP-384-1 refused to answer. This is the only recorded instance of uncooperative behavior on SCP-384-1's part. When the on-duty psychiatrist asked further, SCP-384-1 revealed that Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. clients who expressed "special interests" were permitted to converse with it. SCP-384-1 has refused to elaborate. P████ C████, captured during the same raid in which SCP-384 was captured, was one such client. Psychological interviewers report high levels of sociopathic and sadistic behavior. Given the previous activities of Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd., Dr. F████ has assumed that all other clients expressing "special interests" are in a similar mental state as Mr. C████. Dr. F████ has discouraged researchers under his command from pursuing this line of inquiry.
Incident Log-384-1: On 3/22/20██, Assistant C██████ was interviewing SCP-384-1. He was the only individual in the room. Two minutes into the interview, Assistant C██████ drew his sidearm and destroyed the recording devices in the room. Nothing said by either SCP-384-1 or Assistant C██████ at any time during the interview suggested that the latter was about to commit mutiny. Using a speaker installed inside Containment Unit-077, on-site security commanded Assistant C██████ to stand down; in response, the speaker was destroyed as well. An incident report received thirty minutes later revealed that Assistant C██████ had broken containment of SCP-███ and stolen it. Based on SCP-███'s properties, it is surmised that Assistant C██████ used SCP-███ to unlock and open SCP-384. Fifteen seconds after Assistant C██████ destroyed all surveillance devices in the room, large amounts of tar began to flow out through SCP-384 from Containment Unit-077. The pressure of the tar against SCP-384 eventually tore it off its hinges, at which point the tar flow ceased. Interviewers report no change in SCP-384-1's behavior. SCP-███ has been successfully retrieved and re-contained, and containment of SCP-384 reestablished. Assistant C██████'s corpse has not been found. SCP-384-1 has been thoroughly tested for any possible telepathic or memetic effects, but all results have been negative. There is nothing to suggest that Assistant C██████, one of SCP-384-1's most frequent interviewers, acted out of anything but free will. Dr. F████'s proposal to reclassify SCP-384 as Euclid has been denied.
That was the best Assistant Researcher I've seen in years and this is bull[EXPLETIVE REDACTED]. -Dr. F████

« SCP-383 | SCP-384 | SCP-385 »


Item #: SCP-385
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-385 is locked within a standard fireproof container at Storage Site-23. Experimentation with SCP-385 requires written approval from any Level 4 researcher. After the incident outlined in Report 385-c all further testing must take place in a facility located within five degrees of either of the Earth's poles.
Description: SCP-385 is a waist-mounted harness crafted from heavily antiqued leather and brass. A curled electrical cord connects a hand-held push button switch to the mechanism mounted on the front of the harness, which itself contains a superfluous set of interlocking gears and colored LED light bulbs. The harness has sustained significant impact damage. A damaged engraving on the front of the mechanism reads "Special Edition! 3 of [ILLEGIBLE]" and "[ILLEGIBLE] by The Factory."
Also retrieved with SCP-385 were a cardboard storage box and instruction manual. Both the box and manual feature a retro art style reminiscent of 1950's science fiction pulp illustrations. The manual describes the harness as a "Personal Anti-Gravity Field Generator" and contains simple illustrations in the "proper" use of the device.
When operated according to instructions, SCP-385 does create an energy field that counteracts the influence of outside gravitational forces upon the device and an individual wearing or holding it, as well as neutralizing their inertia. Measurements of velocity and direction with high-speed video cameras tentatively indicate that inertia is neutralized relative to the Sun as the inertial frame of reference. Research to duplicate this effect is ongoing, but the mechanical components of the device appear to be non-functional. The harness will still produce the anti-gravity effect even when all mechanical components beyond the activation switch are removed.
Addendum: Except under strictly controlled conditions, use of this device is invariably fatal due to the speed of the Earth's rotation and revolution around the Sun. An individual removed from both the Earth's gravitational pull and momentum would either be flung into space or experience a fatal collision with an object blocking their trajectory, which will at least result in the device's deactivation to allow for retrieval.
SCP-385 was recovered from the room of a 13-year-old boy in █████, ██, shortly after what appears to be its first activation. It is unknown how many other SCP-385 mechanisms may still be at large, or how large the "production run" was. Interviewing the deceased boy's parents traced SCP-385 to a downtown antique toy store where the device was purchased as a novelty. The store was found to be abandoned, and had not been occupied for some time. Downtown residents do not remember the shop ever being open.

« SCP-384 | SCP-385 | SCP-386 »


Item #: SCP-386
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: No entry to the containment area is allowed without approval from Site Command. Containment area should not be connected to any outside systems besides an entry airlock. Seals and filters for the airlock must be checked daily, and replaced as needed. Incendiary devices are to be placed inside the containment area, with remote activation controls. In the event of containment failure, incendiary devices are to be immediately detonated and the site is to go into full lock-down for a period of one month to find and contain any spore leakage.
The containment area is to be cleaned and repaired at least twice a year. Anything exiting the containment area must be scanned for SCP-386 spores. Any personnel entering into or working near the containment area must be in full haz-mat gear with self-contained atmosphere.
Description: SCP-386 is a form of mushroom that appears to have highly regenerative processes, and is highly resistant to physical damage. Single units of SCP-386 grow from individual microscopic spores. These spores grow and reach maturity within four days. Spores have been observed to grow without water, sunlight, or any form of nutrients, and can remain viable even after exposure to high heat, vacuum, radiation, and extreme kinetic force. SCP-386 produces no hyphae, and the means by which it gathers the energy for growth is unknown. A mild acid (pH 4) appears to be secreted in small quantities by the cap, identification of which has been inconclusive.
Attempts to damage or take samples from SCP-386 have met with limited success. Units of SCP-386 have a texture and weight similar to sponge, but are extremely difficult to cut, puncture, crush, grind or otherwise physically damage. SCP-386 units can be compressed to 1/10 their original size, beyond which compression becomes almost impossible. Fire and extremely strong acids have been shown to break down SCP-386; however the spores have proven resistant to such measures.
SCP-386 emits between 50 and 100 spores every ten days after reaching maturity. Fully grown SCP-386 do not appear to age or rot, with some specimens remaining viable after 122 years. Containment is difficult due to the constant reproduction and emission of microscopic spores. Outbreaks of SCP-386 can over-run areas in very short periods of time, and the buildup of spores and acidic secretions can render the area extremely hazardous to life.
One of the dangers of SCP-386 arises from the inhalation of spores. These will grow and reproduce inside the lungs, causing suffocation, internal hemorrhaging, and death. The same is true of accidental ingestion of spores, and their subsequent reproduction inside the digestive system. Spore introduction to the blood stream results in severe internal hemorrhaging, trauma, and eventual death. Due to the microscopic size and extreme durability of spores, there is no "cure" for SCP-386 at this time.

Notes on recovery: SCP-386 was recovered after reports of a sudden fungus outbreak in ██████, Michigan. Several years before this, a form of nematode had started infesting local crops and causing massive damage. Local farmers made a concentrated effort, and eliminated 95% of the nematode population with pesticides. Shortly thereafter, a form of highly invasive mushroom began to sprout, immune to pesticides and very resilient to damage. Outbreaks were burned or buried, and generally ignored.
Local law enforcement responded to a concerned citizen, who reported that her neighbor had not been seen for several weeks. Police entered the residence, finding a massive amount of mushrooms covering most surfaces, with most localized in the bedroom. Human remains were found under a large pile of mushrooms, identified as the home owner. Agents responded after reports that all the responding officers died under identical conditions, with mushrooms starting to spread at an exponential rate.
Samples of SCP-386 were collected, and after several failed attempts at outbreak containment, the area was firebombed. Area was monitored, and a new outbreak incident occurred after four days. Full containment and sterilization was enacted, with five additional outbreaks occurring during this process.
It has been determined that the species of nematode eliminated by local farmers was a major predator of SCP-386, the removal of which allowed the population explosion. Attempts to find surviving members of this species have been unsuccessful.

« SCP-385 | SCP-386 | SCP-387 »


SCP-387 spread out

Item #: SCP-387
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Due to the nature of this object and the almost nonexistent harm it poses, it is stationed in a storage container in Site-19 with a standard lock. The red tub in which SCP-387 is contained does not possess any unusual properties itself, as has been determined through testing but SCP-387 will not duplicate itself unless at least a layer of it covers the bottom of the aforementioned container. A sheet is available for those wishing to utilize SCP-387, and access will be revoked if it is not properly restored.
Description: SCP-387 is a tub of commercially available Lego, normal in design. Irregular shapes not featured in normal sets, such as circular “wheels,” and prisms, are also available. It has no brand name, and every company interviewed by undercover Agents thus far has denied ever making irregular Lego. When the tub is not full (i.e. when it is partially or almost-fully emptied) the Lego will slowly duplicate themselves, stopping when the container is full.
The interesting property of SCP-387 is that, when constructed by a human hand (see Addendum 387-d) the constructions will animate themselves, performing activities based on their surroundings. For example, if a Legoman – which is a “man” constructed using the provided humanoid parts - is placed within a car, it will begin to drive it. Further experimentation has revealed that the car (and indeed, any complex machine) needs no internal engine or power source. The legopeople have some form of sentience, as they interact with each other quite readily.
If left over time, the constructed people and buildings will evolve. They will take on occupations based on the buildings around them, (e.g. some people will become firemen and use firetrucks if the corresponding objects are there). They will also use SCP-387 to construct more things to expand their society. Humans can interact with them quite peacefully, but if a human becomes hostile to them, they will immediately cease all activity and become inanimate.
SCP-387 was found in February of 20██ by Agent H████. During a long train ride back to the city he lived in, Agent H████ idly constructed a man from SCP-387 (which was in the seat beside him at the time). Several seconds later it became animated. Agent H████ quickly disassembled the man and delivered the item to Site-19 for analysis, where it now remains. The security tapes from the train were confiscated and destroyed before they could be reviewed.
Optional information: SCP-387 should not be given to children under the age of 10, especially if the aforementioned children are influenced by cartoons and television shows. See Experiment 387-b.
Experiment 387-a: A small community of SCP-387 is formed in a testing chamber. A plane constructed from normal Lego was placed to the side of the community. Over the next three (3) hours, the following changes were observed:
- Several Legomen procured some equipment from SCP-387, heading over towards the plane.
- With incredible efficiency, the Legomen constructed what was, for all intents and purposes, a working airport, the specific pieces having been supplied by SCP-387, without visible signal.
- A petrol tank zoomed over to said plane, apparently filled it with fuel (despite earlier observations that vehicles constructed from SCP-387 do not require fuel) and the plane proceeded to literally take off, flying around the room at low speeds and altitude, seemingly to avoid crashing.
- More planes, of different make and design, were formed soon after.
Addendum 387-1: Judging by this, I'd say that constructions of SCP-387 have some form of understanding of the surrounding environment and they are able to convert existing Lego to 387. – Dr. Arch
Experiment 387-b: Several young children were given SCP-387 and were given instructions to use their imagination. The children, who had their memories of this experiment removed, began constructing various objects. After having noticed that they were animate, they excitedly conferred, and began building several objects that they intended to use in battling each other. These included a Transformer, an M1 Abrams Tank and several [EXPUNGED] The children were instantly removed, at which point the creations began to fire and eventually destroyed each other, though not after considerable effort.
Addendum 387-2: How the fuck did these children gain knowledge of the workings of a M1 Abrams Tank, no less [EXPUNGED]!? I'm not responsible for cleaning out the mess those things make, if anyone is stupid enough to let children go at SCP-387. I am not recommending an upgrade to Euclid, as the constructions did not fire whilst in the presence of humans. This has been tested with adults and proved just as correct. - Dr. Arch
Experiment 387-c: The red tub that contains SCP-387 is emptied of Lego. Commercially available Lego is then placed in the tub for a minute. Constructed objects are inanimate, and remain so. SCP-387 replaced. It is noted that the Lego placed within the tub also did not duplicate itself.
Experiment 387-c-2: A single block of SCP-387 is placed within the red tub. It does not replicate. More of SCP-387 is added until the bottom layer is covered, at which point it began to replicate itself quite rapidly until it had been filled. The amount of SCP-387 removed from the tub continued to work. Similarly, when an amount of SCP-387 higher than the tub's capacity was placed upon the tub, it shrank until the red tub was fully filled.
Addendum 387-3: It appears that the red tub itself has no abilities by itself, but SCP-387 will not duplicate itself unless in that particular tub. Perhaps this is a copyright mechanism that stops copies of 387 being made. Further experimentation needed. – Dr. Arch
Experiment 387-d: A robotic arm was used to construct a car out of 387. It did not animate. This test was repeated with a human hand, at which point the car animated as usual. A dead hand from a recently-dismembered Agent was used, to no response. The hand was then heated, which still provoked no response.
Addendum 387-4: It appears that 387 responds to a pulse, or some other detection of human life. – Dr. Arch
Addendum 387-5: This SCP has been in high demand for extended use, as further testing has revealed no more anomalies or features. In the personnel tested, SCP-387 has improved morale and attitude by 87%. People are really kids at heart here. As such, I am recommending that all personnel be given free access for recreational use. – Dr. Arch
Request approved.
Experiment 387-e: Once a normal community of 387 was constructed, a small mound of Mega Bloks (a common copy of Lego) was placed near the community. When this happened, everything constructed of 387 stopped moving, turned slowly towards the Mega Bloks and [EXPUNGED].
Addendum 387-6: Jesus fucking Christ. - Dr. Arch

« SCP-386 | SCP-387 | SCP-388 »


Item #: SCP-388
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-388 is to be kept in a locked safe in a room guarded by at least two (2) armed guards instructed to refuse access to any unauthorized personnel; use of lethal force is permitted to this end.
Unless undergoing experimentation, SCP-388 is to remain outside the influence of any other SCPs demonstrating properties capable of modifying physical laws or drawing energy from unknown sources.
Description: SCP-388 consists of a foldable nylon frisbee of the type commonly given away as promotional material, in this case bearing the logo of the Banana Boat Suntan Lotion corporation. SCP-388 appears to be immune to damage; during testing, it has been able to withstand high caliber rifle shots, immersion in high acidity baths, and sustained temperatures of 3500 °C. In all cases, it would spring back, unharmed, to its original shape. X-ray crystallography reveals the molecular structure of SCP-388 to be completely normal nylon supported by a ring of metal appearing to be aluminum.
SCP-388 was discovered after witnesses in a local news report in the town of █ █████, ███ claimed a power line was downed by a UFO. Agents embedded with maintenance crews investigated, and found the concrete pole was sliced cleanly with no tool marks, prompting full investigation status. Aerial records obtained from NORAD and ███████ revealed no abnormalities such as [DATA EXPUNGED] typically associated with [DATA EXPUNGED]. The investigation was nearly terminated until agents posing as reporters interviewed the ████ family, originally questioned in the news report, and their child ████ mentioned the entire incident as being caused by a frisbee. Initially skeptical, efforts were nonetheless taken to verify this claim, with initial confirmation made on ██/██/██. A full week of helicopter searches of the neighboring city of █████ and numerous retrievals of unremarkable frisbees from rooftops eventually yielded results. Unfortunately, Agent ███ was fatally dismembered by SCP-388 when Agent ████ threw the object down from the roof. Under the guise of replacing a septic tank SCP-388 was dug up from its resting place 5.5 m below the yard, and carefully brought in for containment.
SCP-388 when thrown by a human appears to travel as a normal frisbee would for a distance of approximately 3 m. After this distance, SCP-388 immediately begins glowing bright white, and accelerates until its velocity reaches approximately ███ m/s. SCP-388 will proceed to cleanly slice through all intervening matter, regardless of consistency, until eventually coming to rest. Current theory holds that it loses speed due to friction between its top and bottom surfaces and the weight of material pressing down on it as it passes through objects. SCP-388 does not differentiate between matter and test subjects assigned to catch it.
Addendum: Inquiries into the potential use of SCP-388 as a weapon have been declined by ████ in light of the obvious difficulty of retrieving it after its first throw.

« SCP-387 | SCP-388 | SCP-389 »


Item #: SCP-389
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures SCP-389 requires no exceptional containment. When not in use, it is stored on a shelf in the office of Dr. ███████ at Site ██ due to the site's proximity to the sea.
Description: SCP-389 is a green glass bottle, approximately 45 cm in length. There are no markings or other distinguishing features on it.
SCP-389 appears highly resistant to damage, having been dropped or knocked from its shelf multiple times with no fractures, chips, or other damage. Analysis of the material it is made of show it to be identical to normal glass.
Object was discovered on [DATA EXPUNGED] in the possession of a 15-year-old girl named █████████████. She shared the history of the object as she knew it, which was: She discovered it on the beach approximately six years ago. On a whim, she composed a note, placed it inside SCP-389, and threw the object into the sea. Several days later she returned, to find SCP-389 washed up on shore, with a reply enclosed. She had been corresponding with another person this way ever since this discovery.
Upon testing, it was discovered that this phenomenon appears to work with any note, and after being cast into the sea, would return at high tide the following day, containing a letter. A test consisting of sending the bottle without a note ended with the discovery of the still-empty bottle the next day.
Messages received are written in English, and appear to have been produced with a mechanical typewriter. The composer of the letters seems loath to reveal any personal details beyond her name (Gedril) and sex. Any questions about or requests for her geographic location are ignored.
"Gedril" will describe the area surrounding her home, wildlife, food, culture, customs, and apparently anything not relating specifically to herself readily and in detail when possible, though her knowledge of many things is limited. Many of the things described are unusual; among them are trees that uproot themselves and migrate, and the life cycle of insects physically resembling coccinellidae (colloquially known as Ladybugs), which at one point includes multiple larval members of the species gathering, spontaneously liquefying into a single mass, then reforming again as adults.
Tracking devices sent along with SCP-389, regardless of whether they are contained within it or simply affixed to its outside, invariably fail after SCP-389 is beyond approximately 100 meters from the shore. All other attempts to track SCP-389 have likewise resulted in failure.

« SCP-388 | SCP-389 | SCP-390 »


Item #: SCP-390
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-390 is stored in a disassembled state in a climate-controlled containment unit at Site ██. Direct access to or experimentation with SCP-390 may only be performed with permission from at least two (2) Level 3 Senior Researchers.
Description: SCP-390 is the remains of a large mechanical device that is suggested to have been approximately 6 m in height and 4 m in diameter, hand-crafted and primarily composed of wood, rubber, and other organic materials with metal fixtures and fittings. The remaining, intact section of the device consists of a large aiming mechanism topped with a heavy, sealed housing containing multiple large glass lenses as well as several components that have yet to be identified. Despite carbon dating of the wood in the structure placing the device at approximately 2200-2300 years old, little to no deterioration of the device's non-wooden components has occurred.
Experimentation on SCP-390 performed after years of careful restoration has shown that the device is capable of generating intense heat focused at a distance of up to 1200 meters, causing water to vaporize and flammable materials to ignite within seconds. Exactly how the device is able to accomplish this is currently unknown, and is the subject of continued research on the device.
SCP-390 was uncovered by archaeologists at a dig site at [REDACTED] near what was ancient Syracuse and subsequently reported to the Foundation by an undercover agent embedded in the team. Examination of the site also revealed what appears to be a mount that allowed the device to be precisely rotated and aimed. SCP-390 was recovered along with numerous documents and other minor anomalous artifacts, and Class B amnestics were administered to the members of the archaeology team.
Addendum 390-01: Transcript of Recovered Documents
The following set of vellum documents written in Hellenistic Greek were discovered in a sealed container at a dig site adjacent to the primary site of SCP-390 and secured by Foundation field personnel.

[indecipherable] genius. Despite the overwhelming odds, his inventions turn the tide of battle time and time again. Agnes, my love, still fears for our safety, but one cannot stand by the side of this intellectual giant and not see hope rekindled that we may yet win this war.

[indecipherable] but it is now nearly a year and a half and there is no end in sight. The master has become increasingly desperate, I feel, and toils throughout the night like a man possessed, alone and cloistered within his workshop where [indecipherable]

[indecipherable] stomach turns as I remember the smell of burning Roman flesh and the screams, the horrified screams as the machine set fire to their ships and soldiers died by the hundred. If that were not enough, I saw the master standing atop the machine, laughing as he [indecipherable]

[indecipherable] no longer stand by as he falls ever deeper into madness. Better to become a Roman slave than be one responsible for such wanton death and destruction as an apprentice to the demon this man has become. I have arranged for a message to be handed to the Roman commander [indecipherable]

[indecipherable] madness upon madness! Marcellus intends to take this madman as his own, to take his machine of death back to Rome! No, I cannot allow this. I cannot allow the demon to win, I will end his life by my own hand if need be. If I am lucky, the general may even think that his own soldiers [indecipherable]
Forgive me, Agnes.

« SCP-389 | SCP-390 | SCP-391 »


Item #: SCP-391
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-391 is to be kept in a 5 x 5 x 5 m aviary, made of heavy steel mesh. Structures mimicking mixed broadleaf deciduous and pine forests should be placed inside the aviary. Artificial lights, mimicking normal day and night patterns, are to be kept well maintained. Temperature and humidity should be controlled to mimic a humid continental climate.
The door to the aviary is to be kept locked at all times when SCP-391 is not being studied, maintained, or fed. Personnel exiting the aviary are to be searched for objects removed from the aviary. Personnel attempting to remove material from the aviary without permission will be reprimanded.
Description: SCP-391 is a single female specimen of Tyto alba alba, or common barn owl. Pellets regurgitated by SCP-391 are typically comprised of some form of precious metal. The metal produced seems to vary with the type of prey ingested. The owl, nicknamed Midas, has been documented regurgitating gold, silver, platinum, and other precious metals. Refer to the SCP-391 Test Logs for more information.
SCP-391 was acquired in 20██, after Park Ranger █████ ████████ reported finding nuggets of gold resembling owl pellets. The Foundation found the report during a routine information sweep. All owls in a 50 km radius were tranquillized and captured under the guise of a tagging and tracking experiment. Agents examined and released over ███ owls before SCP-391 was found.
Addendum 391-01: After several examinations by Foundation veterinarians, no anomalies have been found within SCP-391. Other than its unusual ability, SCP-391 is a normal, adult member of its species.
Addendum 391-02: Due to repeated contact with researchers Dr. ███████ and Dr. █████, SCP-391 has become accustomed to some human contact. However, SCP-391 is still a wild animal, and should be treated with caution and respect.
NOTE: Dr. ███████ requested permission to breed SCP-391 to see whether the trait would be passed to its young. Request pending approval from the site director.

SCP-391 Experiment Log
NOTE: These experiments were carried out after SCP-391 was kept on a restricted diet of boneless, skinless chicken for a week. Researchers also withheld food for twelve (12) hours prior to testing.
Name: Dr. █████
Date: ██/██/20██
Item: One (1) 320 g white rat.
Reaction: SCP-391 excitedly killed and ate the rat.
Output: One (1) 63 g indium pellet.
Note: What was remarkable is the size of the pellet. It was the same size as a pellet from a normal owl. There couldn't have been more than 10 g of indigestible material on the rat, but the pellet weighed the correct weight for a piece of indium of that size. It seems that whatever is facilitating the change in matter doesn't adhere to the law of conservation of mass.
Name: Dr. █████
Date: ██/██/20██
Item: One (1) 320 g black rat.
Reaction: Same as the white rat.
Output: Same as the white rat.
Note: SCP-391 was placed in an enclosed system where all mass and energy input was carefully measured, and showed a gradual increase in mass about two (2) hours after ingestion. No energy or mass change in the system could account for this increase. It seems colour is not important to the reaction. The pellet produced, however, can't yet be explained without violating the basic laws of physics.
Name: Dr. █████
Date: ██/██/20██
Item: One (1) 320 g black rat.
Reaction: Same as previous tests.
Output: Same as previous tests.
Note: The rat used in the test was radiolabeled, and the digestion process was observed with specialized equipment. The meat of the rat was separated from the fur and bone, and digested as one would expect in a regular owl. The extra mass in the pellet is not coming from the ingested material itself.

« SCP-390 | SCP-391 | SCP-392 »


Item #: SCP-392
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: All living SCP-392 instances are to be held in a standard greenhouse sector at Biological Research Site-103. Population of SCP-392 instances is to be maintained at an upper limit of ten. Selected SCP-392 seeds are to be extracted and kept in cryonic storage at Bio Site-103.
Description: SCP-392 is an artificial plant species created via Daevite thaumaturgy,1 resembling the species Prunus persica (peach). According to A Chronicle of the Daevas, creation of SCP-392 was attributed to Daevite Matriarch Waq of the Waq clan c. 800 BCE. While originally perceived as an act of social deviance in Daevite society, cultivation was tolerated2 and adopted by matrilineal descendants of the Waq clan located in contemporary Central Asia and Xinjiang, China.3
While SCP-392 is physiologically similar to that of P. persica, one significant difference is that SCP-392 does not produce fruits from the ovary upon flowering. Instead, it produces a series of physically identical male human heads. DNA analysis indicates that they are of the same individual. As the tattoos found on the heads are indicative of human concubinus belonging to Daevite matriarchs, it is postulated that the heads grown from SCP-392 represent a human concubinus of the Matriarch Waq Waq.
The physiology of heads grown from SCP-392 is mostly identical to that of a human, although the heads lack eyelids and the seed for SCP-392 is located at the prefrontal cortex. In addition, the heads are capable of responding to external stimuli, as indicated by various reflex actions. PET scans of attached heads have identified neural activity in the brain. Notably, rate of eye movement and neural activity are consistently higher when female humanoid figures are within the head's visual axis as compared to other types of objects. Below is an abridged list of reflex actions and responses obtained from heads grown from SCP-392.

+ View Excerpts

- For complete experiment log, see Document 392-Shi

Test 392/01

Subject
D-690

Protocol
D-690 is instructed to wave her hand in front of a head attached to SCP-392.

Results
Irises of the head move according to the movement of D-690's hand.

Test 392/02

Subject
D-690

Protocol
D-690 is instructed to caress a head attached to SCP-392.

Results
Irises of the head move toward the region where it is touched. Jaws of the head open at approximately 5º. No vocalisation produced.

Test 392/03

Subject
D-690

Protocol
D-690 is instructed to place her lips over the lips of a head attached to SCP-392.

Results
Mouth of the head opened and tongue extended in an attempt to touch D-690's lips and tongue.

When detached from SCP-392, neural activity and reflex actions from the heads will cease. The heads can be plucked or will fall from the plant naturally via barochory. When detached from SCP-392, the head will gradually undergo decomposition, allowing the seed to be exposed to water and oxygen. Decomposed matter from the head will then serve as an organic fertiliser for germination.
SCP-392 was discovered in the Katsura Imperial Villa at Kyoto, Japan on ██/██/1945. Ties to Daevite culture are later identified via cross-reference of tattoos found on the heads, and this document is subsequently updated with relevant findings from Daevite sources known to the Foundation.
Addendum 392-1: SCP-392 instances planted at Kyoto was conducted during the Pacific War, as part of a ritual to pray for national prosperity. Those specimens originated from a single SCP-392 seed, which was among the gifts from Emperor Yang of the Sui Dynasty in response to tribute sent by Japanese envoys. This practice originated from a description of SCP-392 by the envoy Ono no Imoko, alleging it to be a symbol of prosperity only found in the households of nobility.
Addendum 392-2: Due to the mention of the Sui Dynasty and confirmation of Daevite involvement, a copy of A History of China altered by SCP-140 to include Daevite-Chinese interactions was consulted for additional information.
The book mentioned SCP-392 as one of the items looted from captured Daevite cities by Chinese soldiers as early as the Warring States period (c. 475 BCE – 221 BCE). SCP-392 would be cultivated by these soldiers, who harvested and skinned the heads. The skulls would then be passed off as executed enemy combatants and presented to officials in exchange for promotion and other rewards (e.g. peerage titles, lands, slaves).
The descendants of many clans involved in SCP-392 cultivation gained prominent positions in various Chinese dynasties, up to the imperial families of various dynasties. See Document 392-Su for more information on the topic.
Addendum 392-371: Specialised Containment Proposal — Project YIN-YANG (Subcategory: Argus-100)4
The following proposal consists of a cross-test between SCP-392 and SCP-2733. Usage of SCP-392 and SCP-2733 circumnavigate ethical issues regarding the use of a live human, and long-term maintenance of a live observer. Said cross-test consists of the following phases:

One D-class personnel will be involved in the tending of SCP-392 for a period of one month, and will not be involved in other SCP projects. This is to facilitate priming.
Said personnel will then be instructed to open SCP-2733 while thinking of SCP-392. Due to SCP-2733's anomalous effects, it is hypothesised that a head will manifest.
SCP-2733 will be kept opened for a test period of one year to examine long-term survival of the head.

If long-term survival of the head is possible, further application under Project YIN-YANG (Subcategory: Argus-100) will be considered.

Footnotes
1. See SCP-3140 and SCP-3399 for other plant species created via Daevite thaumaturgy.
2. Dr. █████ speculates that tolerance of SCP-392 cultivation might be attributed to the decentralised model of Daevite polities in the form of the city-state and absolute power wielded by matriarchs in these city-states c. 800 BCE. See Shifts within Daevite civilisation for more information.
3. Notably, the leading figures of the Waq clan in those regions were stated to be of partial human descent and supposedly ostracised by conventional Daevite clans. The ostracisation is speculated to be a significant factor towards the Waq clan's decline c. 300 BCE due to wars with the Qin state.
4. Project YIN-YANG is an extrapolation of [DATA EXPUNGED] under controlled settings. As such, only approved Safe-class anomalies will be utilised. "Subcategory: Argus-100" denotes experimental containment strategies against anomalies requiring visual perception to remain inactive.

« SCP-391 | SCP-392 | SCP-393 »


Item #: SCP-393
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-393 is to be kept in the possession of a designated D-class subject, hereby referred to as D-393, at Site-██. The vitals of D-393 are to be monitored at all times to prevent SCP-393 from 'linking' to important SCP personnel in the event of D-393's death. A secondary D-class subject will remain on stand-by for emergency reclamations of SCP-393 if D-393 should die.
Description: SCP-393 is an ordinary 9 cm x 14 cm blue day planner with a year embroidered into its cover that always matches the current year. The information on the back of the day planner reveals it to be a product of █████ ███████ publishing. SCP-393 has the ability to 'link' to a nearby subject via unknown means. Once linked, the day planner will appear in the hands of its owner whenever it is not being watched. Additionally, any event written in the past dates of the day planner are instantly recalled by the subject as if they experienced it themselves. Events written in a future date of SCP-393 will elicit no change until the date of the event has passed, at which time the subject will recall the event. If the subject currently linked with SCP-393 dies, SCP-393 will choose a new owner within ten minutes of the previous owner's demise, based on proximity. There appears to be no maximal distance for this ability (for additional details, see testing log).
Interview Log 393-1a
Interviewed: Test 393-1 subject
Interviewer: Dr. ██████
Foreword: Review of subject's mental state after Test 393-1 and the extent of memory alteration .

<Begin Log, 5:31 ██/██/2███>
''Dr. ██████:'' So you say you spent the day yesterday at ██████████ Park with your girlfriend Cindy. Is this correct?
''Subject 393-1'': Yeah, it was a pleasant afternoon.
"Dr. ██████:" How long would you say you have known Cindy?
"Subject 393-1:" I don't know, about two years.
"Dr. ██████:" Do you realize that you have been in this facility for a year now? And before that you were in the ████████ State prison for a life sentence?
Subject appears deep in thought, visibly worried
"Subject 393-1:" But.. oh! Cindy was my girlfriend from back in high school. I used all my conjugal visits to see her.
"Dr. ██████:" Hmm… I see. How exactly did you see your girlfriend yesterday? You haven't been let out of this facility for months.
Subject appears distressed and begins to fidget nervously
"Subject 393-1:" You guys gave me leave to see her. It was our two year anniversary.
"Dr. ██████:" We don't give leave to any D-Class at this facility, Subject 393-1. I'm afraid that you never left the facility. Cindy does not exist.
Subject is increasingly agitated and distraught
"Subject 393-1:" But.. I know her! We were high school sweethearts! We've been together 10 years! It was our anniversary!
Subject stands up
"Dr. ██████:" Subject 393-1, sit down now! Your stories are broken and make no sense. Cindy is not real. Play the tapes, ████████."
Video logs of Subject 393-1 for the previous day begin playing with time stamp
"Subject 393-1:" Those are fake! You're lying to me! This is just another damn test!
Subject picks up video projector and moves to smash it
"Dr. ██████:" Sedate him!
Guards tranquilize Subject 393-1 and take the body to his holding cell
"Dr. ██████:" Glad that's done with. Turn it off. We're done here.
<End Log>

Closing Statement: Subject 393-1 terminated after refusing to work, and attacking any staff who entered his cell.
SCP-393 has a heavy effect on the memory of the subject, but subject's memories fall apart under questioning. - Dr ██████

« SCP-392 | SCP-393 | SCP-394 »


Item #: SCP-394
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-394 should be kept in a standard containment locker at Site-██ with a combination lock. Lock is to be reset as per standard operating procedures after use. Standard positive-action defenses are to remain in place at all times. Use is restricted to experimentation only by authorized Level Three personnel. Under no circumstances should SCP-394 be tested in a sealed area.
Description: SCP-394 is a container of ear candles, each 24 cm long and 1.2 cm in diameter, one end tapered. The container originally held twenty-four packs with two candles per pack with seventeen packs remaining. The ear candles are hollow tubes of amatl coated with beeswax and various herbs. Most of the herbs used are common aromatics, but some remain unidentified.
Each package has instructions on how to use the candle, warning to always have a spotter handy as well as taking precautions to keep in an open area with good ventilation. Instructions show that the user is to lie on their left side, place the ear candle's tapered end into the ear canal, and then have their spotter light the candle. The instructions caution to burn the candle no longer than four hours at a time, and “to meditate before and after to aid in the realignment of the body's energies”.
When used, the candle burns with a bright orange flame and a soothing fragrance, smelling reminiscent of incense with an undertone of wax and tallow. The scent has a soporific effect on the user, who eventually falls into a deep slumber. The candle, under recommended conditions, will burn with the brightness and heat of a typical ear candle. When interviewed, users tell of semi-lucid dreams with a variety of fantastic elements, as well as the sense of being watched from afar.
While the candle burns, the user begins to lose body fat at the rate of one kilogram per five minutes. During this time the length of the candle remains constant, although in an enclosed area the air will heat significantly and become oxygen depleted and sooty. The candle will continue to burn, however, until it is either extinguished or the user has no body fat remaining.
If the candle is still lit at the point where there is no longer any body fat, the candle will diminish in length and the user's body will start to desiccate and harden, with death occurring in the first ten minutes. This event does not wake the user. The flesh will eventually attain the consistency of dried meat, and the scent of the candle will change: witnesses describe it as akin to a smokehouse or a barbeque, although the odor of incense is still reported. The candle flame will continue to burn down to the user's remains unless extinguished. The corpse will burn as quickly as dried kindling, leaving only a small amount of fine ash.
When testing in a well-ventilated area, the column of smoke and vapor emitted by the candle is not deflected normally by ambient air currents, up to and including heavy rain and crosswinds in excess of 80 km/h. Instead, it drifts steadily in a straight line following a compass bearing unique to the time and location of use. If allowed to orient themselves before lighting the candle, users always lie parallel to this line. Attempts to triangulate the destination of the vapor column have been unsuccessful, suggesting that the "target" is moving.
Addendum 394-1: SCP-394 was discovered in 20██ at the post office in ██████████, ████, as a package marked as undeliverable. The address in question, ███ ███████ ██, had been consumed in a fire six days prior. The circumstances of the fire, especially [REDACTED], led to the Foundation being contacted by embedded assets. The package had labeling consistent with orders filled through A█████ M██████████, although the company had no corresponding records. The return address for the shipment was erroneous, and so the package remained at the dead letter office until obtained by Agent T█████.
Addendum 394-2: One instance of SCP-394 was disassembled for chemical analysis. Examination of the amatl showed chemical traces written in a previously unknown script. Linguistic analysis remains incomplete, but the language has shared roots with other Indo-European tongues. Research suggests that the writing is a description of a ritual offering to an unknown chthonic being, perhaps as a sort of prayer.
Addendum 394-3: Due to the increase in reports concerning spontaneous combustion and unexplained fires in the homes of typical ear candle users, the use of extreme methods to track and contain instances of SCP-394 has been approved. – O5-█

« SCP-393 | SCP-394 | SCP-395 »


Item #: SCP-395
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-395 is to be kept in the center of a locked room at least 10 meters wide. No female personnel are to be allowed into SCP-395's room under any circumstances. The room is to be guarded by two male personnel at all times. Any unusual behavior should be reported immediately. Any independent movement on the part of SCP-395 should likewise be reported.
SCP-395 is to be fed one liter of a half-and-half mixture of blood and milk, both taken from the same individual, once a week. Failing to follow a regular feeding schedule will cause SCP-395 to increase its range at a rate of 10 meters per day without food. If it has not been fed for more than one week past its expected time, it will begin to [REDACTED].
Description: SCP-395 is a human fetus, approximately 7 months into its development, contained in a specimen jar. The jar is filled with a standard formaldehyde solution, with traces of blood.
When a female human comes within 5 meters of the jar, SCP-395 is able to telepathically influence her. At that point, the subject will feel a need to remove SCP-395 from its jar, and allow it to feed in the normal manner. All women, regardless of age or medical status, will lactate under this telepathic inducement. Once the milk has been exhausted, SCP-395 will continue to feed, drawing blood and gnawing flesh from the subject. The subject apparently feels satisfaction throughout this process, only understanding what has actually happened when SCP-395 is sated and releases its control.
SCP-395 was taken from a traveling freak show, whose owner had been using it to control women for his own personal use. It was discovered when police tracked the bodies of his victims back to him. One of the arresting officers fell under SCP-395's control, and killed her partner when he attempted to stop her from removing it from its jar. Foundation agents caught the report from the follow up investigation, and acquired SCP-395.
Interrogation of SCP-395's owner revealed little. He had acquired it along with the rest of the show from the previous owner's estate. Documentation included with the estate indicated that SCP-395 had been purchased from a teaching hospital in the early 1900s. No information regarding the parents was included.
Testing by male personnel shows no detectable life signs while SCP-395 is inside the formaldehyde solution in its jar. Only when a female human subject comes within its range does it become active, exhibiting a faint heartbeat and high levels of brain activity.

« SCP-394 | SCP-395 | SCP-396 »