Item #: SCP-138
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-138 requires minimal containment procedures. For humanitarian purposes, subject is currently being kept in a chemically-induced comatose state.
Description: SCP-138 is a human male, suspected to be in excess of four thousand (4000) years old. Subject is approximately 1.5 meters in height, emaciated, and wizened. SCP-138's precise origins are unknown. Subject was discovered in 2006, in an Egyptian tomb located near Tutankhamen's tomb unearthed in 1922, sealed inside a sarcophagus. When a living being was discovered in the tomb, the Foundation was alerted by one of our sleeper agents assigned to the International Archaeological Association. Subject was immediately moved to Sector 37 for investigation by the lead research science team there.
Physiologically, SCP-138 should clinically be dead. Muscles and internal organs are in a severe state of atrophy, and although the subject's bio-electro-magnetic field is stable, his nervous system is also severely debilitated. Subject also exhibits evidence of a large number of fatal wounds, some possibly accidental, some blatantly deliberate, whether inflicted by the subject himself or by others.
There is no obvious scientific explanation for his continued living state. Although other SCPs have exhibited accelerated regenerative properties, allowing them to resist death, SCP-138 has no such abilities—his body does not regenerate damage, but simply continues to function despite lethal injuries. This stretches to wounding blows, although anything that would completely destroy the body proves ineffective.
Subject speaks exclusively in a dialect of ancient Egyptian. Communication using a civilian translator has revealed very little about the subject's past, though it would appear that he was buried in the tomb for an unknown religious purpose. Due to his severely injured state, SCP-138 is in a constant state of agony, and has on numerous occasions insistently requested humanitarian euthanasia. No successful method of termination has yet been found, despite various and varied attempts, both official and unsanctioned. Attached is a comprehensive list of the subject's injuries.
Document 138-27: Injuries sustained by subject SCP-138
Ancient injuries:

Slit throat
Seventeen (17) separate wounds to the torso: nine (9) sword wounds, six (6) spear wounds, and two (2) wounds caused by unknown puncturing weapon, possibly a metal or wooden spike

Sanctioned euthanasia attempts:

Severe nausea (due to intravenous arsenic poison)
Third degree burns to 100% of the subject's body (note that SCP-138 survived a full twenty (20) minutes in an industrial incinerator)
Severe internal and nervous system damage (from electrocution attempt)

Unofficial euthanasia attempts by non-research personnel:

Tracheal trauma (due to extended strangulation attempt)
Two gunshot wounds to the head, causing severe cranial trauma

« SCP-137 | SCP-138 | SCP-139 »


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scp-139.pdf

scp-139.pdf

ITEM: SCP-139
LEVEL 4/139

CLASS: eparch
secret

DISRUPTION CLASS: dark

fig 1.1. Saxe in Topeka Station; Platform 9, Monitor 3, View 1 at 15:04:58. (Hover to enlarge.)

SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: [Containment suspended.]
DESCRIPTION: SCP-139 designates the disappearance of Lucian Saxe, formerly a Foundation-employed security specialist. Saxe had, until SCP-139's occurrence, acted as a consultant for Site-97 on the matter of esoteric reanimation methodology.
SCP-139 is considered anomalous both due to a persistent infohazard encountered following its occurrence [1] and due to the cut-off of information pertaining to SCP-139 after April 4, 1978. Despite Site-97's best efforts, neither Saxe's past-or-present whereabouts nor the location of a cadaver have been uncovered. Extradimensional travel is suspected but not confirmed.
No primary suspects which could be responsible for SCP-139 have been identified, owing to the largely inconclusive results of investigative efforts. As such, SCP-139 is currently considered a cold case [2] and is expected to continue indefinitely.

TIMELINE OF EVENTS:

March 5, 1978
Saxe clocks in at Site-97 and declines usual chatter with personnel at the front entrance. Ze enters hir office and does not exit for the remainder of the workday.
For a period of twelve hours, Saxe queries forty-two SCiPNET entries pertaining to thaumaturgic workings, global ley-line activity, and available research into Way and Knock techniques. This idle activity contradicts hir otherwise exemplary productivity record and raises concern among Site-97 staff; sensor agents are dispatched appropriately.
No further abnormalities occur until Saxe has punched out and arrived at hir residence in suburban Albany. By 10:45 PM, ze vacates hir residence, presumably on foot to avoid detection, and exits the city limits.
March 6
A paper trail of bus and train tickets suggests Saxe traveled approximately two-thousand kilometers to Topeka, Kansas, arriving at 12:15 PM. Of note, interviewed civilians occasionally describe hir as "that traitor" when recounting this eighteen-hour period. [3]
March 7 – April 4
After Topeka, the paper trail terminates, and reports of Saxe's location during the following month become increasingly irregular. A car ze is believed to have rented is sighted in Salt Lake City, Utah and Lubbock, Texas on March 10 and March 15 respectively — although the windshield and rightmost tail-light shattered between the two cities. Ze is last documented in Tucson, Arizona after residential police implicate hir in a resist-and-flee incident on suspicions of vagrancy. [4]
On April 4, sensor agents embedded within the Tucson USPS remove the following letter from the mail pool.

To the ones I'm running from,
I hate you.
I hate what you've done, and what you're doing to me, and what I think you did to the others who ran. I hate how I'd find lenses in the eyes of paintings and strange fingerprints on my belongings. I'm curious by trade, but you've really got me beat.
I'm not the first to run. But I might be the first to break free.
I'm going someplace without cameras or fingerprints, someplace you can't follow. It was fun while it lasted, but you lost this one. And soon I'll be back, and you're going to lose more.
The Hand's always been welcoming to people like me, anyways.

Footnotes
1. See the constructed timeline below.
2. As determined by the Site-97 Forensics Board.
3. Despite this, no sensitive data leakage pertaining to hir employment at Site-97 was discovered.
4. This police report was filed on April 3 at 3:48 AM and is considered the last documented sighting of Lucian Saxe by the public.

scp-139-addendum.pdf

scp-139-addendum.pdf

Addendum.139.1

SCP-139 officially concluded on April 27, 1993, when a minor structural failure revealed a small air-pocket within Site-97's concrete foundation. Although this led to a temporary lockdown due to the destruction of Site-97's courtyard, integrity was eventually restored. Models of the air-pocket prior to the structural failure indicate it resembled a prostrate human body fitting Lucian Saxe's height and build.
After the initial excavation, the following personal effects were discovered:

The necrotic flesh of a heavily-decayed human cadaver and several human bones, most pulverized by the aforementioned structural failure.

A Foundation keycard for a Site-97 security specialist; ID number scratched out, suggesting deep shame.

A forbidden thaumaturgic ritual to preserve its user's spirit after their death.

A map of ley-line positionings in the contiguous United States, often referenced by enemies of the Foundation. A circle had been drawn around a nexus on the US-Mexico border near Tucson, AZ.

Saxe's cause of death is believed to be terminal dehydration, following several days of entombment.
During the investigation of this air-pocket, Site-97 excavators punctured a secondary cut-out hidden within the concrete. Due to the considerable strain that excavation would put on Site-97's foundation, this cut-out has not been analyzed extensively. What can be determined, however, is that it contains a large number of partially-decomposed human eyes, believed to exceed one thousand in total.
Perforations within the concrete would have allowed these eyes to observe their target on all sides until ze expired.

« SCP-138 | SCP-139 | SCP-140 »


A reproduction of SCP-140

Item #: SCP-140
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-140 must never be brought closer than 15 m to any source of standard ink, human blood, or other fluids suitable for writing. Any contamination by blood or ink must be reported immediately. Any remaining copies of SCP-140 created during the initial printing must be found and destroyed as soon as possible. Only SCP-140 is to be preserved, for purposes of study, early warning, and cataloguing and recording possible SCPs derived from its subject matter.
SCP-140 is contained at Site-76 in a sealed vault containing a single desk. At this time no research is to be carried out upon the original SCP-140; researchers are to read from prepared copies not bearing the signature of its author which lack its properties. In the event of approved research, SCP-140 may not be removed from the vault, and readers may not be in contact with it for longer than 9 hours. Access requires written approval from the head researcher for the explicit purposes of testing. An armed guard stationed outside the vault will meet any attempted theft with deadly force.
Should any personnel begin displaying obsession with SCP-140 or signs of possible memetic contamination, they are to be issued a Class A Amnestic, false memories implanted as necessary, and transferred to another project. Transferred personnel must be monitored for signs of relapse.
Description: SCP-140 is a modern hardcopy book with an unremarkable black binding and an unknown number of white pages. The book jacket is missing, but the title, “A Chronicle of the Daevas”, is clearly legible. The inside cover is signed by the author, whose name is indecipherable. The text is copyrighted 19██. Careful examination reveals there are far more pages between the bindings than could be contained within them.
Readers admit to feelings of paranoia, unease, and occasional nausea while reading SCP-140, although this may be related to the subject material. Nonetheless, readers almost universally describe SCP-140 as fascinating and express continued interest, despite its frequently unsettling content. One in fifteen readers describe SCP-140 as having a faint odor of dried blood.
SCP-140 is a detailed account of an ancient civilization originating in what is now south-central Siberia, identified as the Daevites. Although like all cultures the Daevites evolved and changed over time, they appear to have exhibited unusual continuity. Universal fixtures of the Daevite culture in all periods included militarism, conquest, ancestor worship, urban centers ruling over large slave populations, gruesome human sacrifice, and the practice of apparently efficacious thaumaturgic rituals. A variety of relics and creatures produced by the Daevite culture would be abnormal or dangerous enough, if the account is to be believed, to qualify for containment in their own right.
If SCP-140 comes into contact with any fluid suitable for writing, including human blood, the account of the Daevite civilization's history expands. Human blood appears the most “potent” of possible writing substances, but in any case the amount of new material does not correspond proportionately to the fluids introduced. Although these new segments sometimes include new descriptions of rituals or cultural traits or illustrations of previously covered material, they more frequently include new, more recent accounts of information chronicling the continued history of the Daevite civilization or descriptions of new individuals and artifacts. Formerly decisive defeats become setbacks; new persons and events are inserted. Foundation archaeologists have discovered corresponding new artifacts and traces of the Daevite civilization in applicable locations and strata, in some cases found in dig sites that had already been thoroughly explored.
Although at times the Daevites were a collection of city-states, they appear to have consistently returned to imperialism under a theocratic aristocracy (the “daeva”), practitioners of cannibalism and thaumaturgy. Although initially Foundation researchers believed the daeva to have been a hereditary class recycling the names of noteworthy individuals, evidence and the events of █-██-20██ now suggest that the daeva possessed preternatural longevity as a result of [REDACTED]. Several researchers, notably Professor ███████, have concluded the daeva were so divergent from modern humans as to be a separate subspecies, a conclusion supported by graphic representations within SCP-140 and [DATA EXPUNGED].
SCP-140 is remarkably detailed by the standards of a primary source, seeming closer to a biography than a historic text. It includes lurid descriptions of sacrificial rites, battlefield descriptions, daily life, and the life stories of various noteworthy individuals including quotes and dates of birth. Over ███ distinct individuals have been identified including the individual presently termed SCP-140-A, of which only ██ are accounted for by recorded deaths.
Foundation archaeologists have discovered several sites containing ruins consistent with the supposed Daevite culture in various locations across Siberia, northern Iran, and Mongolia. Artifacts and traces of inter-cultural conflict and contact have been discovered as far west as the Carpathian Mountains and as far east as northern Pakistan and China. These include SCP-[REDACTED].
Addendum 140a:
SCP-140 was originally found in the office of deceased historian ███████ ██████. The previous owner was discovered in his office at █████ University, having expired from self-inflicted lacerations on both wrists. There were no traces of ██████'s blood in the office. ██████'s colleagues claimed during interviews they discovered a note in faded ink in ██████'s handwriting next to SCP-140. All witnesses were administered Class A Amnesiacs and false memories implanted.
██████'s note read:

I have to know. I'm sorry.

All texts within 15 m except several books relating to the history of the region were blank; the remaining books now included accounts of supposed interaction between the Daevite civilization and the subject cultures or applicable discussions of Daevite history and culture. These texts were confiscated. All printed forms and media were blank. All pens, printers, and ink cartridges were empty.
Addendum 140b:
Although SCP-140 was published during the 20th century, the tone of the book suggests it is a recounting of events, individuals, and practices experienced firsthand by SCP-140's unknown author. Foundation investigators have tracked SCP-140's publication to the [DATA EXPUNGED] printing house in a batch of ██ copies self-published by a wealthy individual hereby termed SCP-140-A. SCP-140-A's signature on the contract matches the strange signature inside SCP-140.
More than 4█ of the copies produced in this batch were apparently leeched of all ink by the ██ remaining copies. To date, Foundation agents have recovered and destroyed ██ of the remainder, but between █ and ██ remain at large. Two expansion events have been reported during periods when SCP-140 had never been exposed to fluids of any sort or removed from its vault.
An investigation and manhunt for the author of SCP-140 is ongoing. In the event of contact, agents are advised [DATA REDACTED].
Addendum 140c:
Through study of SCP-140 and other contained objects related to the Daevite civilization, Foundation researchers have concluded that, transposed to the modern era, the resurgence of a hostile Daevite civilization in history more recent than 1███ CE would constitute a grave and even possibly retroactive threat to the Foundation and modern civilization as we know it. Even best-case projections of Daevite resurgence in the modern day suggest a CK-class restructuring of modern society and a worldwide conflict with a projected death toll of at least [REDACTED] and an end to the Foundation's secrecy.
Addendum 140d:
███████ ██████'s journal, found on his home PC in [DATA EXPUNGED], indicates that upon his initial reading of SCP-140, it ended with the almost utter destruction of the Daevite civilization and the genocide of all known daeva in 2██ BCE by the forces of Chinese general Qin Kai. As a result of subsequent containment breaches, including those detailed in the journal, copious quantities of new material have been added, describing survivors regrouping and migrating to another region of central Siberia, rebuilding their empire steadily, and continuing to advance culturally and technologically. At present, the empire is described as having finally been crushed by Genghis Khan during the early period of his conquests, although the fates of many important persons and several cities remain ambiguous. Foundation archaeologists will be dispatched to [EXPUNGED] for investigation and research.
Addendum 140e:
After the incident on █-██-20██ at [DATA EXPUNGED] dig site resulting in over ███ casualties, all Foundation archaeologists excavating sites of suspected Daevite artifacts or ruins are to be accompanied by a fully armed security team. SCP-140-1 has been neutralized. SCP-140-2 remains at large. All other anomalous contacts and artifacts were destroyed when the dig site was struck by a cruise missile. Agent ██████ received a commendation and was treated for post-traumatic stress disorder. Dr. ████ received a posthumous commendation for courage.
An investigation into the possible involvement of SCP-140-A or their agents in the events of █-██-20██ is ongoing.

« SCP-139 | SCP-140 | SCP-141 »


SCP-141

Item #: SCP-141
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: When not in use, SCP-141 is to be stored inside a locked safe in Site-76. Access to this safe requires security level clearance 3 or higher and written approval to use SCP-141. When SCP-141 is in use, either for implementation in accordance with Foundation goals, or for research purposes, it is to be kept within the possession of the assigned researcher at all times. Failure to account for SCP-141 will result in a severe reprimand.
While SCP-141's danger to the Foundation appears limited, it could still be a tempting target for certain subversive groups or opportunistic users. For this reason, SCP-141 is to be checked out for no more than one week at a time.
Description: SCP-141 is a small leather-bound codex dating back to Roman times, easily carried in one hand. Despite its great age, it never acquires any additional signs of wear and tear beyond a somewhat aged-looking cover. Its thin papyrus pages are always crisp, and so far have proven difficult to tear from the codex's binding. All attempts at radiocarbon dating have failed; the judgment of SCP-141 as being Roman in origin was initially based upon its appearance, but later confirmed through extensive research using SCP-141 corroborated by historical records. The title is apparently Codex Damnatio, based upon the text on its spine.
SCP-141's pages are written in Roman Republic-era Latin. It is a detailed description of notes and summations for a wide range of legal trials. This first half contains a series of historic trials from throughout history—the earliest trial appears to be from the proscriptions of the late Roman Republic, while the most recent case is the [DATA REDACTED] taking place in 20██. Each case summary is extensive, with precise witness quotations, exact physical descriptions of evidence and their importance to the case, and so on.
The codex actually contains far more legal cases than its one hundred and fifty pages could possibly allow; a reader must make a detailed reference to a range or specific case to discover if it is listed inside. If it is, the pages will transform into those relating to the specified case. This requires specific mentions of historical context surrounding the case(s). Research with SCP-141 conducted by Professor ██████ revealed SCP-141 has apparently been employed in, among other important periods, a wide variety of Roman proscriptions, heretical trials of the Catholic Church (including the conviction of [DATA REDACTED]), the Spanish Inquisition, the witch hunts of the 17th century, and the Red Scare of the mid-20th century.
The latter half of the book is blank, and can be written in with any pen with black ink. A user of SCP-141 must provide detailed information about a criminal proceeding, including victim, evidence, witness statements, and suspects, and they must do so in Republic-era Latin. Later readings of the book will reveal these new cases in the first half of the book, written in the same handwriting as the rest—a very precise, careful hand.
When this information is provided to SCP-141, the particulars of the case described in SCP-141 appear to become "true" in regards to memory and evidence surrounding the case. Witnesses' memories and testimony will correspond to the information written in SCP-141. Falsified evidence springs into existence in accordance with its description, usually appearing in the court record or the crime scene where it can easily be discovered. This has included murder weapons, suspicious traces of the subject such as fluids or fingerprints, stolen items, or incriminating documents.
SCP-141 appears able to cause criminal activities that would not have taken place, although this requires even more precise wording and description of the particulars. The "guilty" party specified by SCP-141 may have a false memory implanted that corresponds with SCP-141's account of events, although this result requires a clever description of the desired scenario. These memories do not overwrite the original ones, but they do seem quite nearly as real.
Care must be taken by all users to ensure as many loopholes are closed as possible. SCP-141's falsifications will stand up to all but the most critical of examinations, but it will only produce precisely the memories and evidence written inside it. While it appears to prejudice the court against the "guilty" party, this is not foolproof. Nonetheless, successfully employed, SCP-141 is an almost surefire conviction. Even in the event of exoneration, "guilty" subjects will often still be ostracized and viewed as guilty by influenced witnesses and law enforcement personnel, who may in some cases [DATA REDACTED].
Addendum [SCP-141a]: Tests are ongoing to determine if SCP-141 is capable of exonerating an innocent man wrongly convicted, or if changing the results during the trial has any measurable effect. Approval to employ SCP-141 in a "test case" is pending.
Addendum [SCP-141b]: Following [DATA REDACTED], all test cases involving Foundation disciplinary hearings or implicating members of the Foundation other than D-Class personnel without signed waivers from the "guilty" subject are hereby forbidden by O5-█. Violation of this new security protocol shall be dealt with harshly.

« SCP-140 | SCP-141 | SCP-142 »


Item #: SCP-142
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-142 is to be kept locked in an accessible room with the following:

1 table with surface area no smaller than 75 cm by 75 cm
1 stool of adjustable height
1 wall clock, electric, to be kept visible and running at all times when SCP-142 is in use

Access to SCP-142 is permitted only with express written consent of Dr. ████ or other level 4 personnel. Staff assigned to SCP-142 must not have any personal or family history of compulsive gambling nor gambling addiction. Staff assigned to SCP-142 are not to make any physical contact with the device under any circumstances.
Description: SCP-142 closely resembles a 1940's “Black Beauty” slot machine, as produced by the Mill corporation during that era. The only observed irregularity in the external construction of SCP-142 is found in the coin slot of the device, which has been modified to accept any item that will fit in a cylindrical space 5.00 cm in length and 2.45 cm in diameter.
When any object of appropriate size (hereafter referred to as “the bet”) is dropped into the input chute of SCP-142, the device may be operated as is customary for a slot machine of this model. Should the tumblers come to rest in a losing configuration, the bet is lost and cannot be recovered. However, in the event that the tumblers come to rest in a winning configuration, between 2 and 200 indistinguishably identical copies of the bet are dispensed from the output chute of the machine. In the event that the bet consists of multiple objects, the output of the device (if any) consists of a random assortment of duplicates of the wagered items. Test data reveals the median payout from winning configurations to be 10 items, regardless of the number of items inserted.
Human subjects allowed to interact with SCP-142 are affected by the object in three unique stages. Stage 1 begins immediately upon direct or indirect physical contact with the lever of the device. Subjects demonstrate mild giddiness and demonstrate a greatly diminished sense of the passage of time. If the subject has not exhausted the supply of betting material after 28-34 minutes of play, he or she will gradually enter the next stage. Subjects at stage 2 appear compelled to bet larger and larger quantities of provided betting items (5-20% of remaining material) until supplies are exhausted. Subjects also express the delusion that they are winning more frequently as a result of their altered betting strategy. In spite of this belief, the frequency of payout seems to be somewhat reduced at this stage.
Stage 3 begins once all of the subject's betting material is lost, typically 10-12 minutes following the onset of stage 2 if no additional betting material is provided to the subject by a third party. Subjects at this stage express a strong aversion to SCP-142 and will not continue to operate the device unless compelled with physical force. Subjects also express a moderate aversion to any action which would cause an object to pass through a hole, and express a strong irrational fear that they will “waste” or “lose” something should they engage in the offending activities. Specific examples vary by subject, but include: passing through doorways; placing objects into cabinets, bags, or any other storage medium; use of sinks, showers, or other plumbing fixtures with drains; removing and/or putting on clothing; sexual intercourse; and, most commonly, eating. Roughly 62% of subjects that reach stage 3 will expire due to starvation or malnutrition unless actively compelled to eat or provided nutrients through other means.
Any subject restrained or otherwise removed from interaction with SCP-142 during stage 1 will recover in full within one hour. However, stage 2 subjects separated from the device will enter stage 3, and the effects of stage 3 have proven permanent in all cases. Subjects in stage 3 should be terminated at the conclusion of each experiment.
SCP-142 was recovered on ██/██/████ from an abandoned antique dealership in ████████, Ohio, following a tip from ████ ██████. Records from that area indicate that the shop owner died of starvation roughly five years prior to retrieval of the device.
Addendum 142-1: On ██/██/████ in the course of an approved experiment, SCP-142 was temporarily disassembled and each piece catalogued. The construction of SCP-142 proved unsurprising for a slot machine of this make and model, with two exceptions. Component 142-0046, the lever of the device, was found to contain several unexpected alloys, including [DATA EXPUNGED]. Contact with the lever has no effect when it is not connected to the rest of the apparatus. Additionally, as mentioned previously, the coin slot of the device is extensively modified to accept objects larger than coins. The most notable element of the custom chute is component 142-0524, a small chamber composed of thin pewter plates. 142-0524 appears to serve as both the holding mechanism for betting material and the dispenser for payouts. The means of interaction between this component and the rest of SCP-142 is unclear; however, due to the highly fragile construction of component 142-0524 and its presumed relationship to the device's duplication properties, further examination is prohibited without O5 consent.
Addendum 142-2: With the permission of O5-█, personnel may now submit appropriate materials to be used with SCP-142 for potential multiplication. Requests should be submitted in writing to Dr. ████.

« SCP-141 | SCP-142 | SCP-143 »


Item #: SCP-143
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-143 is to be contained in the valley adjacent to Bio-Research Area-12, an area over 2 km². Area surrounding SCP-143 for up to 20 km, and all lines of sight from the surrounding hilltops, are to be denied public access. SCP-143 is to be watered twice every day on a regular basis via a large sprinkler system, unless already watered by local precipitation. Personnel are not allowed to enter the enclosure without Level 4 administrative clearance, and are advised not to touch any of SCP-143, nor stand beneath them unless wearing proper protective gear. It is important that no one be within the containment area when SCP-143 begins to shed, however after the shedding has concluded, the collection of the fallen petals for testing purposes has been authorized by the project director (see SCP-143 Testing Log).
Description: SCP-143 is a plantation of 300 specimens of a unique type of tree. The trees are similar in appearance to Prunus x yedoensis (Japanese Sakura), or cherry blossoms. They bear no fruit, and the only known way of reproduction is by careful "own root" propagation using cut saplings from an older sample.
The petals are a light pinkish color, slightly translucent, and with a texture of smooth glass. Care must be taken when handling the petals, as their edges are razor sharp, and can easily slice through flesh if mishandled.
The wood and bark are a light grayish color, with a texture expected of wood, although the grain is very smooth to the touch.
However, the petals and wood of these trees are much harder than most natural or man-made substances, reaching up to 5,000 HB on the Brinell scale, and withstanding temperatures of up to 1800°C. The weight-to-strength ratio surpasses even that of titanium, being some fifteen percent (15%) lighter than aluminum. Despite this hardness, the wood and petals are quite supple and are as pliable as most woods are.
Both are notoriously difficult to work due to their properties, but under high temperatures, upwards of 1500°C, separate pieces are capable of being fused together. They make excellent armor, shielding, and weapons. Due to the slow growth of the plants, the material is slow to harvest, although the petals are shed regularly enough, falling from the trees twice every year.
Addendum 143-1: The trees were grown on-site from saplings obtained from parent plants located in Nara Prefecture, Japan, in 1905. The parent trees were owned by a family of traditionalist swordsmiths, claiming to be descended from a legendary sword maker named Amakuni. They referred to the original trees as "jinki no kodachi" (刃木の木立), or the "Bladewood Grove." It is from them that the Foundation gained the techniques to cut and work the wood and petals into serviceable items.
The original trees are still in Japan, owned by the government, and still tended to by the same family. However, the government has denied all existence of the trees, and any products made from them are kept within the country.
Document 143-A: We lost three staff to 143 today. They were collecting petals dropped by the trees the previous day, when a sudden gust picked up, shaking a good deal of the petals from the trees and blowing them around. Stayed that windy for the whole day. I'd send a cleanup crew, but it's still pretty windy and the odd petal is still falling. We'll have to pick up the remains when the wind dies down in a couple days.

« SCP-142 | SCP-143 | SCP-144 »


Item #: SCP-144
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-144 requires the presence of only one Foundation observer to monitor and issue updates on the condition of SCP-144. The Tibetan Buddhist monks who maintain the site live in solitude and secrecy. A heavy mist condenses around the small mountain that hosts SCP-144, which itself resides in a small valley between two greater mountains, Mount [DATA EXPUNGED] and [DATA EXPUNGED]. This mist is present most of the year and the thin rope itself is only fairly visible to the human eye within a distance of 3 km. Air travel within a 70 km radius has been restricted with the cooperation of the Chinese government.
Description: Located in a monastery atop a small Tibetan mountain, SCP-144 is a thin, taut hempen rope, only 1.2 cm thick, attached to a ring of jade bound to the floor of an atrium in the temple (known as "Base Camp" amongst researchers). The other end of SCP-144 extends straight upward many kilometers up into the sky to a yet-to-be-explored satellite in geostationary orbit above the Earth at an altitude of about 39 km (over 22 miles away, known as "the Summit" amongst researchers).
Several times a year, a monk of the temple ascends up the rope several hundred meters in a ritual of spiritual enlightenment. The monks report that to this day, only one person by the name of [DATA EXPUNGED] has ever been killed during the ascension. Throughout the centuries, several climbers have disappeared, yet the monks believe that one day they will return, bringing greater understanding and enlightenment with them.
Carbon dating of rope fibers put SCP-144 at just over 1400 years old. Foundation anthropologists believe that the rope and the tradition of climbing it began within the rituals of an ancient, dead religion before Emperor Songtsän Gampo brought Buddhism to Tibet. At that time, it is believed that the rope was several kilometers longer. The attendant monks say that the jade ring was added in the early 9th century by the Ralpacan to keep seasonal winds from picking up the rope and swinging it throughout the country side. Several times a year, the head monks untie the rope from the loop of jade and reposition the knot. Research has shown that in recent years, the rope has moved skyward at a rate of about 180 cm per year and is slightly accelerating at a rate of a hundredth of a centimeter/year². With only a few hundred meters of rope left, the monks are unsure of what do to when it reaches the end. Some hope to add length by attaching separate sections of rope to the original, while others believe that new rope won't have the strength of the old.
Research has been unable to explain how plant fiber rope has been able to survive 1400 years and maintain such tensile strength at such extreme temperatures and conditions of the upper atmosphere and space that people are able to climb it, let alone support its own enormous weight against itself (all 39 km worth of rope). If the Summit is accelerating away from earth, its pull on SCP-144 is also unexplained.
The Summit has only been properly imaged by ground-based telescopes, which show the rope of SCP-144 going up and over the edge of a large asteroid-like rock, several hundred meters in width. Satellites have been unable to picture the opposite ("Dark") side of the Summit. It has been reasoned that orbiting satellites are designed to image ground-based locations or distant space objects at much greater distances than other neighboring orbital satellites. Researchers disagree about why images of the dark side of the Summit return blurry and unfocused, rendering the dark side unknown.
Addendum #144-4: Several Class D personnel were offered immediate release if they were to climb to the summit, if possible, and return. While multiple warnings were issued by the monks attending the rope, no resistance was offered.
Of the 6 personnel who accepted, 4 returned to Base Camp complaining of difficulty breathing and lack of air, 1 slammed into Base Camp at terminal velocity, presumably after losing his grip from fatigue, and the last has not yet returned.

« SCP-143 | SCP-144 | SCP-145 »


Item #: SCP-145
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-145 is to remain inside its room at all times in a .5m x .5m x .5m plexiglass container unless being studied. Room is to be thoroughly soundproofed and securely locked when studies of SCP-145 are not in progress. Under no circumstances shall any personnel come into physical contact with SCP-145 without being accompanied and constantly observed by one or more other personnel unless conducting testing with proper authorization. Any personnel showing signs of intense psychological trauma must be immediately escorted out of the containment area. Depending on the level of trauma of affected personnel, they may be required to submit to consultation with an approved psychiatrist for no less than two weeks.
Description: SCP-145 appears to be a standard 2002-model cordless telephone handset of Alcatel brand on its standard issue charging base. The charging base appears defaced; all jack inputs are sealed with resin glue and the power input to the device has been gouged out with an unknown sharp tool. Serial number and production date are unavailable as all labels and stickers have been ripped off or defaced. The phone rings constantly whether it is on the base or not regardless of the lack of power source. Tests have shown the battery is removable, and disassembly of the base has not shown any effect on the hand unit. The hand unit itself has had all the seams sealed, preventing conventional disassembly. When answered a female voice speaks on the phone in a voice that shows high levels of stress. This voice varies from conversation to conversation, but in all cases the voice expresses extreme panic, and proceeds to plead with the listener for assistance as she describes instances of torture conducted on unknown victims. In the background, the listener will hear sounds of violence and expressions of pain and anguish. Audio analysis has so far indicated at least ██ individual voices over disparate calls. The methods of torture implied thus far (judging from the phrases and reactions of those speaking at the time of contact) have included branding, electrocution, laceration, sexual assault, [DATA EXPUNGED] and dismemberment.
The callers appear to be non-automated and entirely sentient. Attempts to trace the call or track down the location of the tortured callers have proven unsuccessful thus far. Attempts to block the signal of the phone with the use of a Faraday cage have also been unsuccessful.
Research is conducted in teams of at least three (one Class D staff, one Class 2/145 audio technician, and one Class 3 security staff), with only Class D staff permitted to have direct auditory contact with SCP-145's transmissions. Testing has shown that in 100% of cases, a subject answering SCP-145 without live supervision will vanish without any indications of transportation methods. Video recording devices do not show the method of transport; the subject will be present in one frame and absent in the next. In case of disappearance, the phone will simply fall to the floor. The phone does not appear to have sustained damage from any of these falls thus far. Subsequent communication with the object has revealed that vanished subjects join the group of torture victims.
Testing Log
Testing Procedure: All tests will be conducted with D-Class personnel. Any issued equipment for the test must be recorded in the log. The D-Class personnel will then be ordered to pick up the phone. After disappearance of initial test subject the above standard research team will answer the phone and record any observations.
Test 145-A
Date: ██\██\████
Subject: D-145-3749 issued one (1) GPS Locator Device, testing to attempt to ascertain the location described at the other end of the line.
Result: GPS rendered non-functional after disappearance of D-Class personnel. On following interaction with SCP-145 audio technician identifies voice of D-145-3749 has joined other victims.
Test 145-B
Date: ██\██\████
Subject: D-145-4751 issued one (1) GPS Locator Device, one (1) 6” standard issue military combat knife. Second attempt to ascertain the location described at the other end of the line, self-defense option provided to subject.
Result: GPS rendered non-functional after disappearance of D-Class personnel. On following interaction with SCP-145 female voice indicates continued stress and states, “Oh god, he's cutting him, he's cutting off [DATA EXPUNGED]” Audio technician then identifies voice of D-145-4751 has joined other victims.
Test 145-C
Date: ██\██\████
Subject: D-145-5319 issued one (1) 9mm semi-automatic pistol, one (1) Kevlar vest, subject compelled to pick up phone. Attempt to determine interactivity of location, determine if any self-defense method is possible.
Result: On following interaction with SCP-145 gunshots are heard, then [DATA EXPUNGED]. Female voice resumes, states [DATA EXPUNGED] and additional gunshots are heard, audio technician identifies D-145-5319 exclamations of pain after each gunshot.
Test 145-D
Date: ██\██\████
Subject: D-145-6842 issued one kg C4 explosive concealed in supply kit, explosive attached to remote trigger with 30-second delay, triggered before interaction with SCP-145. Attempt to determine any possible level of interaction or destruction of location.
Result: [DATA EXPUNGED] resulted in ██ Foundation personnel missing including Dr. ████ and all researchers associated with [DATA EXPUNGED] breaches of SCP security at Site ██. Further testing of this nature suspended at this time.
I don't know who thought this might be a good idea. I know sometimes we let sympathy get the better of us, but this attempt to bring ‘relief' to SCP-145's victims just cost the Foundation a lot of money and resources.
Dr. ██████

« SCP-144 | SCP-145 | SCP-146 »


Item #: SCP-146
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Containment procedures have been revised after it was noted that the effects of SCP-146 were sharply and dangerously increased under previous containment (a standard one-half (0.5) meter cubed secure-storage bin). The bin should remain free, however, should a researcher wish to test SCP-146 at high intensity. Level 3 clearance is required for any personnel wishing to enclose or cover SCP-146 for a period exceeding two days.
During normal storage, SCP-146 is to be kept on a marble pedestal in its storage room, located [DATA EXPUNGED]. SCP-146's standard storage room measures no less than twenty (20) square meters, with stuccoed walls and a ceiling painted to resemble a clear daytime sky. The room is to be kept well-lit (full daylight equivalent) at all times, furnished with an assortment of potted plants (which must be tended to daily), and decorated in the style of the Late Republican period of Rome (c. 120-80 BCE). Experimentation with different interior styles has shown that SCP-146 seems to prefer this arrangement and to have aesthetic preferences consistent with the aristocracy of Rome from that era. While this containment is standard, researchers with clearance Level 2 or higher may experiment with different containment settings in order to modify the effects of SCP-146.
While SCP-146 is non-motile and therefore requires little security itself, personnel entering its containment area or handling it in any way must not make eye contact with SCP-146. Any attempts to cover SCP-146 in order to prevent eye-contact is prohibited, as this has been shown to increase SCP-146's effect at an unpredictable rate. In general, one (1) day of covering or confinement will cause SCP-146 to skip over the beginning phase of its effect and begin with the most traumatic memories. After three (3) days, SCP-146 has been shown to produce its effect without having to make direct eye-contact first. After seven (7) days, the effect of SCP-146 is both far more intense and no longer confined to subjects within SCP-146's field of vision. Researchers in an adjacent room were affected and one was permanently [DATA REDACTED]. Permission to experiment beyond seven (7) days is denied by order of O5-█. Blinders and decorative screens are available for personnel who must enter SCP-146's containment area for maintenance.
Description: SCP-146 is a hollow bronze head, apparently a fragment of a complete statue or bust, depicting a crowned young woman or perhaps an effeminate young man. The head exhibits severe verdigris over much of its surface. The crown of SCP-146 is inlaid with silver decorations, and its eyes (the apparent source of SCP-146's effects) are beaten silver, shined to be mildly reflective. To date, SCP-146 has not exhibited any signs of movement, but its reaction to certain decor in its containment area indicates that it may possess a degree of sentience, if not outright sapience. If SCP-146 is able to communicate, it has not yet done so.
SCP-146 exhibits the ability to access and bring to mind certain memories in those who initiate eye contact. These memories are usually tied to a sense of guilt or shame in the subject. After initial eye contact is made, the subject need only remain somewhere in SCP-146's field of vision for the memories and associated feelings to become more intense, although continual eye contact speeds the process.
Upon initial eye contact with SCP-146, recent memories will begin to surface in the subject. For example, subjects who have ignored a friend in the hall or exceeded the speed limit will be reminded of these events and begin to feel mildly guilty, whether or not they would normally care about the event. With continued exposure to the gaze of SCP-146, the subject will begin to recall older and more vivid memories, with a corresponding increase in feelings of shame in the subject. Generally, after thirty (30) minutes of exposure, the memories will move from being vivid recollections to intense hallucinations, with the subject unable to distinguish the past from the present, or the imagined from the real. Subjects have been observed to regress in personality as well, particularly in cases where memories of childhood trauma have been brought up. Any test subjects exposed for over thirty (30) minutes should be restrained both for their own safety and the safety of others. All subjects to date who have been exposed to SCP-146 for sixty (60) minutes have completely retreated into their hallucinations; so far no such subject has been restored to consciousness from this near-catatonic state. Such subjects must be fed intravenously and are unresponsive to external stimuli, save for occasional murmurings consistent with their regression.
It has also been noted that when subjects recall a shameful event, they will often feel compelled to make amends for their actions. This is not generally a problem in the case of minor offenses and has in some cases led to greater unity among the staff. However, problems arise when the subject cannot make amends, either because the offended party cannot be contacted or because the transgression is somehow irredeemable. Sometimes, the subject will put forth renewed positive efforts in order to "balance out" their guilt. However, in most such cases, subjects fall into a deep depression and/or turn to some form of self-punishment, including self-mutilation and suicide. Please see the attached experiment logs for detailed cases.
SCP-146 was acquired from a Mr. ████ ███████ of Birmingham, UK. Mr. ███████ had acquired SCP-146 during the estate sale of a renowned philanthropist, the late ████████ ██████████, Lord of █████████████. It was purchased in a lot with a number of other artifacts for £█████. When Mr. ███████ began to experience SCP-146's effects, he began seeing a psychiatrist, Undercover Agent UA33-56G. Mr. ███████ was put into an institution and SCP-146 was taken into Foundation custody. UA33-56G's notes on Mr. ███████'s mental state are available for study by researchers of Level 2 or higher, filed as Document SCP-146-A.

Experiment Log #146-01
In order to calibrate a baseline for SCP-146's effects, a standard four (4) by four (4) meter interrogation room was divided in half by an opaque curtain. SCP-146 was placed on a table inside a protective plexiglass case in one half of the room. On the other side of the curtain, Subject D-044323 was restrained such that he was looking directly at SCP-146's position. Researchers maintained constant communication with the subject via intercom throughout the testing process.
The curtain was dropped, causing the subject to look squarely into the eyes of SCP-146. The subject voiced immediate discomfort and closed his eyes, with an increase in heartrate of 15 BPM. With prompting, the subject related the memories he was recalling, beginning with minor breaches of behavior protocol. The subject then recalled several altercations with other prisoners before his being taken by the Foundation, including a particularly graphic description of [DATA REDACTED]. Researchers noted that as time went on, the subject became more cooperative and his speech patterns changed, resembling someone undergoing therapeutic hypnosis.
After fifteen (15) minutes, the subject's speech had become slurred and his EEG patterns showed similarities to someone experiencing vivid dreams. The subject entered into one half of a dialogue which culminated in his trying to break his restraints. After several minutes, the subject ceased thrashing and began to cry. The subject started begging, apparently to someone in his hallucination: "Stop. Take it back. Don't. I won't do it again. I'm sorry. I don't want to. Not again. Stop… Please…" This behavior continued until, after fifty-four (54) minutes of exposure to SCP-146, the subject's vocalizations halted and his EEG showed signs consistent with coma. After an additional hour, no further effects were observed, and the subject was removed and euthanized. Post-mortem examination of his brain noted abnormal levels of █████████ and █████-███████, which neuropathologist Dr. █████████ described as indicative of [DATA REDACTED].
(NOTE: At this point, SCP-146 was being kept along with the other artifacts purchased at auction, because it was not yet known that the effect was confined to SCP-146 alone. I theorize that this containment approximated "favorable" containment and therefore kept SCP-146's effect at its base strength. -Professor Skali █████████)
Experiment Log #146-04
The first experiment conducted after it was determined that SCP-146 consisted only of the bronze head took place after SCP-146 had been moved to a standard one-half (0.5) meter cubed storage bin where it had remained for two (2) days. Subject D-044784 and SCP-146 were placed on opposite sides of a curtain in a standard interrogation room, as in previous experiments. The subject was restrained as in previous experiments. When the curtain was dropped, the subject reported an immediate headache and began to cry. The subject's heartrate jumped to 180 BPM but then dropped rapidly to 40 BPM, and the subject lost consciousness. Medical personnel entered the room and began examining the subject, at which time the subject regained consciousness, her heartrate spiking to 175 BPM. The subject struggled violently against her restraints, and was soon able to break the restraint on her right arm, severely damaging her own arm and hand in the process. Paramedic D. █████████ was injured as the subject struck him in order to gain access to his first-aid kit. The subject was able to grab a small scalpel and jam it into her own neck before guards could regain control. Medical staff administered first aid, but the subject died during emergency surgery due to blood loss.
(NOTE: After several similar incidents it was determined that SCP-146's ability was affected by its containment. Anyone wishing to do further research must take this into account as even brief accidental exposure could prove harmful. -Professor Skali █████████)

« SCP-145 | SCP-146 | SCP-147 »


Item #: SCP-147
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-147 is to be kept in a simulacrum of a 1950s-era living room. Its current container contains a throw rug, two armchairs, a phonograph, a rotary telephone, and other suitable decorations. SCP-147 will reject any items dating from later than late March, 1965 (See Addendum 0-40). It requires no external power source or connection.
Description: Discovered 1983 in a civilian home in Detroit, Michigan. SCP-147 appears to be a 1957 General Electric brand black-and-white television, model 17TO26. SCP-147 has been observed to exhibit two different behaviors:
Optimal: When SCP-147 is in an acceptable room, it will display broadcasts of 1950s-era comedies, such as The Burns and Allen Show, Father Knows Best, and I Love Lucy. In every case, each broadcast has been completely unique: archives of the programs, none of which are still being produced, have failed to find any record of the episodes that SCP-147 plays. No commercials are shown, and there is no indication as to which station would be broadcasting these shows. All broadcasts are in black and white. Subjects exposed to SCP-147 in its optimal state reported a pleasant feeling of relaxation. In this state, the item's volume and channels can be adjusted, though the off switch appears to have no effect.
Hostile: When modern-day items are present in SCP-147's environment, the item will only display extremely violent and gruesome color footage; beheadings, rapes, executions, and torture have all been observed, but as of yet no footage has been broadcast that indicates when or where the scenes depicted took place. The footage is invariably of high visual and audio quality. Subjects exposed to SCP-147 in its hostile state almost invariably vomit due to the graphic nature of the broadcasts after ten to fifteen seconds; one subject suffered a nervous breakdown after two minutes of exposure. Every subject has displayed an extreme reluctance to recall the contents of the broadcasts, and two out of the fifteen subjects tasked with viewing SCP-147's hostile broadcasts have since committed suicide. None of the item's controls respond during hostile broadcasts.
Attempts to examine the internals of SCP-147 have been unsuccessful, as the item's shell resists any and all attempts to crack it open. Placing the item in a Faraday cage in order to negate any possible transmissions it could be receiving had no effect. The effects of long-term exposure to SCP-147 have not been documented.
Addendum: Any and all recreational activities involving SCP-147 are to be scheduled at least one week beforehand with approval by Level 4 personnel.
Addendum [0-40]: See File TC-147-B for further details. After [DATA EXPUNGED] suggestion, several objects manufactured throughout the 1960s era were brought in. Objects made past March of the year 1965 have resulted in a hostile behavior. Exact dating is difficult due to troubles of obtaining materials precisely made on testable dates and times. Reasons as to why it acts in such a way depending on a specific object's date are unknown, and being tested by [DATA EXPUNGED].
Addendum [0-40a]: As has been verified repeatedly, the presence of persons born after March 1965 does not in and of itself trigger a hostile event. For reasons still unknown, SCP-147 objects mainly to manufactured items. Dr. ████████ ████ recently conducted an experiment in which he clothed himself with vintage (pre-1965) articles of clothing, with the caveat that he had three Bic Flair pens (invented in the 1970s) in his shirt pocket. What he saw while seated in front of SCP-147, he would later describe as "a bizarre episode of I Love Lucy featuring a surprising amount of gunplay."
Addendum [1-80]: Recent tests that involved exposing convicted rapists and psychopaths to the object while it was hostile has indicated that the object is able to tailor the images to the viewer. A rapist was strapped into a metal chair manufactured in 1986, and during that time not a single rape was shown on the screen, while scenes of genital mutilation (primarily male) occurred more often. Similarly, a psychopath who had tortured someone to death saw fewer scenes of torture, and more scenes of botched executions.

« SCP-146 | SCP-147 | SCP-148 »


Item #: SCP-148
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures:
REVISION 3
SCP-148 is to be stored as 120 cast ingots, each of which weighs approximately 10 kg at time of writing. Ingots of SCP-148 may not be housed at the same site as any SCP (due to the potential for unforeseen interactions); otherwise, said ingots should be distributed equally among acceptable Foundation facilities. The mass of each contained ingot of SCP-148 must be measured and reported monthly.
Under no circumstances should any SCP with mind-affecting or extrasensory properties come into contact with SCP-148. In the event of such contact, the immediate area must be evacuated and the affected sample of SCP-148 detonated remotely.
Personnel are not to be assigned to SCP-148 for a period of time longer than three weeks. Any personnel assigned to SCP-148 are to be given regular psychological evaluations.
Description: SCP-148 is a metallic substance, composed of a variety of known and unknown elements. The total mass of SCP-148 on hand is approximately 1.1 1.2 tonnes. SCP-148 has a gray-green color with a bluish tinge and oxidizes readily in the presence of water. SCP-148 has a melting transition point of approximately 4500°C and a boiling transition point of approximately 9000°C. SCP-148 has a density of 6.20 g/cm3 6.76 g/cm3 and qualifies as HRC 39 in a Rockwell hardness test. It exhibits material properties, such as strength, ductility, and workability, similar to platinum.
SCP-148 is composed primarily of platinum and iridium, the two composing 62% and 20% of its mass respectively. In addition, several other known metals are present in its composition, including iron, cobalt, and copper, which collectively make up 16.5% of SCP-148's mass. However, given the mass of the material, it is believed that there are other substances not detectable by mass spectrometry or other means. Images of SCP-148 taken with a scanning tunneling microscope show gaps in its lattice that, under normal circumstances, would be filled with other materials.
SCP-148 blocks or otherwise hinders extrasensory mind-affecting properties of living organisms in proximity to it. This effect, while difficult to quantify, appears inversely proportional to the square of the distance from the subject to SCP-148's surface and directly proportional to the quantity of SCP-148 in consideration. The range for which this effect is detectable is roughly 0.8 meters per kilogram of SCP-148.
1.1 tonnes of SCP-148 were retrieved from the metallurgical department of Prometheus Labs' base facility during the Foundation's sweep of the building. Documents concerned with the project had unveiled that the substance was to be subject to additional development, sold to ███████████, trademarked, and sold as “Telekill Alloy”. However, due to [REDACTED] and its political fallout, along with the destruction of the Prometheus Labs' base facility, ███████████ has acquired an estimated 1.3 tonnes of SCP-148 and sold it to unknown buyers. Foundation agents and forensic accountants are in the process of tracking the remaining supplies of SCP-148.
Addendum 148-01
Due to its potential for use in containment of mind-affecting SCPs, SCP-148 has been approved for cross-testing with SCP objects. While tests are still in their early stages, tests with low-level anomalous items seem to indicate that SCP-148 will be an effective tool in containing said items. However, it does not appear to affect items whose notable properties are purely memetic.
Addendum 148-02
Beginning ██/██/████, staff reported irrational behavior and poor communication skills among janitorial staff tasked with regular maintenance of SCP-148's containment.1 After three weeks of increasingly abnormal behavior, two custodians were taken in for questioning and examination. Testing revealed that the aforementioned personnel were incapable of interpreting body language and did not appear to notice the intonation or phrasing of sentences. In addition, the affected subjects were incapable of determining the emotional state or intent of others and demonstrated severely limited vocabulary.
Further testing has revealed that the language and communication skills of persons with regular contact or extended exposure to SCP-148 will, over time, deteriorate and disappear. It has been shown that, after eight weeks, affected subjects will be rendered completely mute and incapable of understanding or giving nonverbal requests, commands, or other statements, despite showing otherwise normal mental capacity.
Addendum 148-03
A measurement taken on ██/██/████ (██ months after the Foundation's acquisition of SCP-148) indicated that, despite no increase in volume, SCP-148 has increased in mass by 0.1 tonnes (a density increase of 9.0%). The source of this additional mass is unknown.
Incident Report 148-████-1
To test the limits of SCP-148's effects and its capacity to change in mass, 0.9 kg of it was placed on a scale and moved to SCP-████'s chamber. Predictably, SCP-████'s [REDACTED] was nullified by SCP-148's presence. However, the sample of SCP-148 began to grow in mass by upwards of 5 grams per second. After one minute, this rate began to decrease, and SCP-148 ceased to increase in mass forty seconds later, at which point it weighed 1.4 kilograms. It remained at this mass for eight seconds before plummeting to 0.8 kilograms in the space of two seconds. During this time, personnel within sixty meters (twelve times the effective range of SCP-████) began to experience SCP-████'s effects, albeit at a vastly increased rate, resulting in [DATA EXPUNGED] lockdown until the affected subjects could be removed.
As of this incident, contact between SCP-148 and any mind-affecting items is strictly forbidden.
Addendum 148-04
Measurements taken since Incident 148-████-1 indicate that the combined mass of SCP-148 is increasing at a rate of [REDACTED]. It is speculated that should a large quantity of SCP-148 undergo an event similar to the sample used in Experiment 148-████, [DATA EXPUNGED]. Containment procedures are under review.

Footnotes
1. At the time, containment consisted of a single storeroom, swept and checked on a daily basis.

« SCP-147 | SCP-148 | SCP-149 »


Item #: SCP-149
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-149 in any of its instances is to be kept inside a sealed plexi-glass box for observation. Oxygen and a nutrient mist are to be released into the containment cell every two hours. If any instance of SCP-149 escapes its cell, Protocol-42-Charlie is to be brought into effect on any and all contaminated personnel, by order of O5-12, after Incident 149-1.
Description: SCP-149 is a breed of mosquito which carries a strain of retrovirus (herein referred to as SCP-149-A) that mutates regenerating human cells into fertilized mosquito eggs. SCP-149-A is injected directly into the bloodstream when SCP-149 feeds. The SCP-149-A quickly works on the nucleus of the cells, warping the DNA. The first set of cells bred from these changed instructions closely resemble cysts, and are concentrated in the lining of the esophagus and the sinuses. Upon dissection, however, these 'cysts' are revealed to be filled with SCP-149's larvae, the cysts acting as a protective casing against external forces. SCP-149 appears to go through its maturation cycle in a matter of hours; by the time the subject is able to feel any effects, the first generation of SCP-149 has already grown inside the subject's body. SCP-149 primarily achieves exodus through the mouth and nostrils, occasionally being diverted through the Sphenoid sinuses to escape through the eye sockets. Infection by SCP-149 is fatal, and chance of infection has been estimated to be 50% from one bite.
Addendum:
Incident 149-1: An incidence of SCP-149 escaped and infected multiple Class-D subjects, the majority of whom did not report SCP-149's contact with them. Within 5 hours, SCP-149 had matured in these hosts and burst out of them, infecting ███ staff. It was only thanks to the quick thinking of Doctor ██████, who sealed sub-levels 12 through 15, that the entire site was not infected. As a response to this, O5 command has created Protocol-42-Charlie, to be used if SCP-149 escapes confinement.

« SCP-148 | SCP-149 | SCP-150 »


Extracted instance of SCP-150 from the brain of D-13732, magnified 20x.

Item #: SCP-150
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-150 patients kept for study should be contained in Level-3 Biohazard Containment Cells, with no more than 1 instance per cell. Cultures of SCP-150 are contained in vacuum-sealed glass flasks in the Site-42 infectious materials lab. Standard pathogen-handling procedures should be followed at all times. Any instances of SCP-150 found outside of containment are to be incinerated.
Description: SCP-150 is an obligate parasite that resembles the tongue-eating louse (Cymothoa exigua), but is adapted to form conjunctive symbiotic relationships with humans for a period of its lifespan. Upon contact with a human subject, SCP-150 embeds itself deeply in the flesh of its host. Over the course of approximately seven days, the parasite will burrow into the host and affect numerous physiological alterations.
The most glaring alteration is the gradual conversion of the limb nearest the infection site into a chitinous appendage: as SCP-150 consumes the host's flesh, it excretes tissue that replaces and augments the functionality of the host's limb without causing transplant rejection. It is suspected that SCP-150 is able to secrete anesthetic and immunosuppressant substances to prevent the host's body from responding to the change. Furthermore, the nervous tissue excreted by SCP-150 is able to interface with the host's nervous system. By the time the process is complete, the host will be able to control the affected limb with no loss in mobility and often with improved strength, reflexes, and resilience.
For a period of one to two weeks, SCP-150 will reproduce, feeding on nutrients from and depositing eggs1 into assimilated blood vessels. The eggs are deposited throughout the human body via the bloodstream - while the vast majority of them die off, enough survive to begin colonizing and altering the rest of the host's body. Though subjects report discomfort and occasional loss of motor control during this process, they often will not recognize the cause of said discomfort. It is still unclear why the offspring do not compete with each other for space or resources, nor how the assimilation process leaves the body's cell signaling mechanisms and processes unaffected. SCP-150 reproduces during this assimilation process: as the lungs are assimilated, more eggs are produced and spread by the patient's coughing. Although as many as 10,000 eggs may be produced during this time, it is estimated that only 1% of them find their way into another host, of which 1% survive the host's immune response and implant successfully.
Although SCP-150 inevitably results in the assimilation and alteration of the central nervous system, including the spinal cord and brain, the host's consciousness and behavior are seemingly unaffected. Interviews with subjects infected by SCP-150 have yielded little information, as infected subjects unaware of SCP-150 claim to sense no changes or improvement in certain senses and faculties. While subjects aware of the infection are able to pinpoint the source of the change, they exhibit little to no negative feelings and often express positivity towards it.
Addendum 150-E: Transcript of Exploratory Leukotomy and Nervous Tissue Transformation Experiments
Two D-Class subjects, D-13732 and D-016002, were infected with SCP-150 and allowed to progress through all stages of the infection. In order to examine the full effect of the infection, exploratory neurosurgeries were performed on both subjects. D-13732 was euthanized; his nervous tissue was found to have been entirely replaced by smaller instances of SCP-150. The instances comprising his brain matter were extracted and stored for experimentation on D-016002.
The following decompressive craniotomy and leukotomy were performed by Dr. Harlan Sun, Dr. Wendy Robin, and Dr. Alex Harlow on D-016002. A full transcript follows.

<Begin Log, 21:43>
(D-016002 is partially anesthetized to numb her during the initial drilling of the skull. The process is uneventful, though Harlow reports expecting less resistance from the skull while drilling into and cutting a flap from it. Upon removing the flap of bone and exposing the dura mater, numerous smaller instances of SCP-150 are observed lying in the cranial cavity where the brain should be. Harlow reports this to Robin, who alerts Sun to begin the interview process while she marks off areas of D-016002's brain on a mapping projection.)
Dr. Sun: What is your name?
D-016002: Mako [REDACTED].
Dr. Sun: Name something to sit in.
D-016002: Chair.
Dr. Sun: What is the color of grass?
D-016002: Green.
Dr. Sun: What is one plus one?
(D-016002 pauses for a moment.)
D-016002: Two.
Dr. Robin: We have marked off the approximate location of the Wernicke's area2.
Dr. Harlow: Thank you, Doctor. Sun, I will now extract some of the specimens from this area.
(Dr. Harlow carefully makes an incision into the dura mater and extracts some of the instances from the area using forceps. He places each instance into a glass vial, corks it, and places it on a nearby stand. Each instance appears to stir to life and begin wriggling only upon being removed. This process takes approximately ten minutes, during which time Sun repeatedly asks D-016002 the same questions. Once Harlow has extracted approximately 100 instances, he gestures for Sun to continue.)
Dr. Sun: Name something to sit in.
D-016002: Uh… uh, seat.
Dr. Sun: What is the color of grass?
D-016002: Green?
Dr. Sun: What is one plus one?
D-016002: …two.
Dr. Sun: Note for the record that D-016002's responses have been slightly slowed. This indicates that the instances within her cranial cavity are indeed acting as neuron analogues, though it is unclear as to how many neurons each instance is equivalent to.
Dr. Harlow: I am placing a sample of neural tissue acquired from D-13732 into D-016002 now. The instances from D-13732 have been tagged with a radioactive luminescent dye to distinguish them for extraction later.
Dr. Sun: Name something to sit in.
D-016002: Couch.
Dr. Sun: What is the color of grass?
D-016002: Blue.
Dr. Sun: What is one plus one?
D-016002: Two.
Dr. Sun: What is ten times eleven?
D-016002: One-hundred-and-eleven.
Dr. Sun: D-016002's responses have returned to normal speed. This suggests that it is possible for 150 nervous tissue to be swapped freely between host individuals without rejection. We will now begin the final procedure. D-016002, you will be given a full general anesthetic.
(D-016002 is subjected to a general anesthetic, which takes several seconds to begin.)
Dr. Sun: The patient is now under full anesthesia. Dr. Harlow, you may begin the process of tissue extraction. For this final procedure, we will be attempting to completely replace the brain tissue of D-016002 with that of D-13732. Previously, during the exploration of D-13732's cranial cavity, Dr. Harlow and I observed that the instances connecting his brain matter to his spinal matter were not secured in any way, and in fact seemed to be switching positions with other instances in the brain. We will be seeing how far this compatibility extends.
(There is silence for the next hour as Drs. Harlow, Sun, and Robin remove the top of D-016002's skull and begin extracting her brain matter into a large glass container.)
Dr. Sun: Extraction complete. D-016002's brain matter has been successfully removed. Dr. Harlow is now placing D-13732's brain matter into D-016002's exposed cranial cavity.
(Silence for several minutes.)
Dr. Robin: Heart rate steady. We have a pulse and breathing. Give it another minute… Alright. I'm going to wake her up.
(There is a pause as Dr. Robin reduces the anesthesia and D-016002 awakens.)
Dr. Sun: What is your name?
D-016002: Michael [REDACTED]3.
Dr. Harlow: (faintly heard in background) Jesus.
Dr. Sun: Name something to sit in.
D-016002: Beanbags.
Dr. Sun: What is the color of grass?
D-016002: Green.
Dr. Sun: What is one plus one?
(Quiet sloshing can be detected by the microphone.)
Dr. Robin: Hey, uh, Sun —
D-016002: Two.
Dr. Robin: Sun, look.
(D-016002's brain is shown to move of its own accord, subtly moving back and forth.)
Dr. Harlow: Well… that's new.
Dr. Sun: Do you feel any pain anywhere in your body?
D-016002: My chest is kind of heavy. Feels just the same otherwise.
Dr. Sun: Good to hear. Now, what is —
D-016002: Hey, I usually feel pretty energetic, even before surgeries, but I'm kind of tired right now. Lately, I've been exercising before I sleep, but since I can't here, is it okay if I can just rest a little bit?
Dr. Sun: Rest?
D-016002: Like three, five minutes. I can do that here if it's okay. (A small portion of the top of D-016002's brain parts before making a gurgling sound. After the portion closes, sections of D-016002's brain retracts into itself rapidly. D-016002's eyes close.)
Dr. Sun: That doesn't seem good. (Dr. Robin steps away from the operation, making retching sounds as she leaves the room.)
Dr. Harlow: D-016 - ah, D-13732, are you okay?
D-016002: Yeah. (yawns) I'm fine, why do you ask?

Footnotes
1. It is hypothesized that SCP-150 can self-fertilize.
2. The part of the brain that controls speech recognition and use.
3. D-13732's name.

« SCP-149 | SCP-150 | SCP-151 »


A digital image of SCP-151. No harmful effects result from viewing duplicate images.

Item #: SCP-151
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-151 should be kept in a locked storage compartment, covered by an opaque cloth. The keys to the compartment should be kept in the custody of the site commander when SCP-151 is not being researched. When research is being conducted, SCP-151 may be kept in a locked laboratory, provided it is always covered when not being used.
Description: SCP-151 is a 1 m x 1.3 m (3 ft x 4 ft) oil painting, apparently from the perspective of someone underwater. A subject who views the painting exhibits no initial effects. However, over a period of 24 hours, the subject's breathing becomes increasingly labored, culminating in the death of the subject. Autopsies reveal that subjects' lungs have filled with seawater. Attempts to halt the drowning process by medical intervention have proven successful in prolonging the life of the subject, but have not stopped nor reversed the condition.
The painting is not signed, but several names are written on the back.
Addendum: SCP-151 was found in an antique shop in █████████, ███, after the Foundation began investigating a series of unexplained drowning deaths. As ███ is landlocked, the Foundation dispatched a team of plainclothes agents after being informed of the nature of the water in the victims' lungs and that the victims had all been discovered on dry land. The agents discovered that the names written on the back belonged to a group of artistically inclined students, all of whom disappeared during a study abroad program in ███████. Investigation into their fate is ongoing, and may provide clues as to the nature and origin of SCP-151.

« SCP-150 | SCP-151 | SCP-152 »


Item #: SCP-152
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-152 is to be kept in a locked chamber in Site-49, henceforth referred to as the "reading room". The reading room is off-limits to personnel below clearance level 2. The reading room will be equipped with one ceiling lamp, one security camera, one scanner-copier-printer (to be restocked with paper and ink as needed), one standard office chair, and one standard office desk upon which SCP-152 will rest. When not in use, SCP-152 is to be turned to its last page, so that any additions made to it can be immediately observed. A single guard will be posted outside of the reading room to deter unauthorized persons from entering the reading room. All personnel are advised to remain quiet if they are near the reading room.
Description: SCP-152 is a large, hardbound book with leather bindings. The paper inside resembles vellum and is written upon in black ink. The contents of the book consist entirely of a series of entries that describe apocalyptic events, which are not always XK-class end-of-the-world scenarios but invariably deal with the extinction of humanity. The entries are arranged in chronological order, beginning with an unexplained spontaneous failure of the sun in 6000 BC and ending with other events close to the present day. Many of the entries describe apocalypses caused or facilitated by objects that are or were in Foundation custody, or are of a paranormal nature. There are also records of human extinction caused by more "conventional" means, such as nuclear warfare or deadly viral epidemics. Each entry describes in some detail the events leading up to the calamity itself, and the aftermath until the point at which the last human on Earth dies.
It has been observed that the entries in SCP-152 change to whatever language the reader is most comfortable with, up to the point where the sentence structure can change significantly from reader to reader, or even begin using colloquialisms that only the reader would understand; only the basic meaning of the entries remains constant. If multiple people are looking at SCP-152, it will read in the personal language of whomever began reading first. If no one is directly observing SCP-152, it will display the language of whomever read it last. Rarely, words will appear in the book that do not "translate" and instead appear as horizontally arranged calligraphic characters which have not been matched to any known language.
To the best knowledge of Foundation historians, most of the information contained in SCP-152 is accurate, diverging only at the point where the apocalypse occurs. In almost all cases, the difference is that a few key decisions were apparently made differently in SCP-152's version of history, leading ultimately to humankind's annihilation.
SCP-152 resists all attempts to change or write in it. Inks, graphite, charcoal, and other marking materials do not adhere to the pages, and are easily brushed off. Lasers or other heat sources do not burn into the paper. Close inspection has revealed that foreign substances are stopped from actually coming into contact with the pages: at least five (5) micrometers of empty space are always present between the pages themselves and any foreign materials that might come into contact with them. For this reason, SCP-152 does not decay, which also means that it has proven impossible to determine SCP-152's exact age.
SCP-152 is self-updating, with newly-inked entries and new descriptions of how the last human died appearing at unpredictable intervals, always on the last page of the book; the date that a new entry appears corresponds with the date given in the entry for the death of the last member of the human species. When space becomes an issue, extra pages appear along with the text, and the spine of SCP-152 broadens accordingly. There have been ███ updates to the book since it came into Foundation custody. As with past events, SCP-152 has proven to be up-to-date on current events until a point at which a catastrophe occurs. Because recent entries frequently concern entities or groups of interest to the Foundation, including the Foundation itself, SCP-152 is to be checked regularly for any information of importance.
Addendum 1: With the acknowledgment made that letting this thing lie around where the public could find it is dangerous to us, is there any real reason to study it? Outdated hypothetical disaster scenarios aren't our concern; we've got plenty of real ones in the present to deal with. -O5-█
Addendum 2: The book is accurate enough about pre-disaster Earth that it makes a decent guide to the present. Plus, it gives a little perspective on the big picture of what some SCPs could do if they got loose. I think all researchers with clearance ought to read the last 50 pages or so just to drive home how important what they do here is. "For want of a nail," and all that. -Dr. Jansen
Addendum 3: Jansen, half the entries in the last 50 pages show the Foundation screwing up and killing everybody. -O5-█
Addendum 4: Like I said, it gives a little perspective. -Dr. Jansen
Incident Report 152-05: On the night of ██/██/████, the security guard on camera duty noticed that SCP-152 was missing from the reading room. However, by the time she had finished reaching for the switchboard to report this, SCP-152 had reappeared, and there was a new entry on the last page. As this was the fifth such occurrence of sudden disappearance and reappearance (refer to Incident Reports 152-01 through 152-04), a simple test was conducted with a high-speed camera, a sensitive electronic scale upon which SCP-152 was placed, and an alarm set to go off if the weight upon the scale abruptly changed. The next three "updates" to SCP-152 all set the alarm off, and the high-speed camera revealed that SCP-152 vanished from sight for exactly one (1) second each time.
Addendum 5: I posit that the book isn't actually being "updated" as such… It's actually being replaced, and each time it changes we are actually receiving a new edition of it. I would very much like to find out where these are coming from. -Dr. Jansen

« SCP-151 | SCP-152 | SCP-153 »


Item #: SCP-153
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Specimens of SCP-153 are to be kept isolated in acid-resistant containers measuring no less than 10 m x 10 m x 5 m, partially filled with sewage and organic material, at Bio-Research Area-12. Every four hours, both the level of organic content and the structural integrity of each container must be checked. Under no circumstances are these containers to be connected to any internal or external plumbing system.
Specimens of SCP-153 almost certainly still exist in the wild. Any reports of people mysteriously disappearing from showers and bathtubs must be investigated immediately. Agents must be equipped with infrared and ultraviolet sensors to circumvent SCP-153's camouflage. Specimens should be brought alive to Area-12 if at all possible.
Description: SCP-153 appears to be a species of nematode (roundworm) that can reach up to ██ m in length and ██ cm in diameter. Specimens of SCP-153 live in sewers and drain pipes, and while specimens of SCP-153 can live off of most any organic material, they prefer to consume animal tissue.
Specimens of SCP-153 excrete a highly acidic substance similar to [DATA EXPUNGED] from their mouths and gullets, and they have the ability to camouflage themselves both outside and in. SCP-153 has developed a hunting technique where a specimen will swim up a shower or bathtub drain, dissolve the drain cover with its acidic saliva, and camouflage its gullet to look like a standard drain. Shortly after a human enters the shower or bathtub, the specimen [DATA EXPUNGED] back down the drain, leaving almost nothing behind. This entire process usually takes less than █████ seconds.
Addendum 153-01: Specimens of SCP-153 are to be kept isolated from each other except under controlled breeding conditions. –Dr. Kovalanskaya
Addendum 153-02: Incidents in █████████████ suggest that specimens of SCP-153 have started attacking people through sink drains, toilets, [DATA EXPUNGED]. Researchers are investigating how such an apparently simple animal can develop such relatively sophisticated hunting techniques.
Addendum 153-03: Dr. Kovalanskaya has received approval to start a breeding research program with SCP-153, with emphasis on genetic engineering. The program [DATA EXPUNGED] as well as a potential method of organic waste disposal.
Addendum 153-04: A controlled release of SCP-153 instances has been proposed as a potential containment method for stalling the spread of SCP-2717. Approval Pending.

« SCP-152 | SCP-153 | SCP-154 »


Item #: SCP-154
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-154 is to be kept within Weapon Locker 8, in Armed-Research Site-47. Personnel wishing to research or use item must submit the required request forms. Anyone attempting to remove the item without clearance, or from outside of the facility is to be terminated on sight.
Description: SCP-154 is a pair of simple bronze bracelets, completely circular and large enough to comfortably hang off the arm of most people. Spectrograph analysis has proven that the item is composed entirely of copper (85%), tin (11%), arsenic (3%), and traces of other slight impurities (<1%).
When both bracelets are worn on the same arm, and the wearer concentrates on them with arms extended in a depiction of a traditional "nocked bowstring" pose (achieved by having the arm with the bracelets completely extended in front of oneself, with the opposing arm extended up to the elbow of the fully extended arm), a large, indistinct, incorporeal bow will form in the extended hand, and both bracelets will glow lightly.
From that point onwards, SCP-154 can be treated as a bow, until the pose or concentration is broken, which results in the bracelets reverting to normal. There is no actual bowstring, but completing the motion of pulling it achieves the same effect.
When the "bowstring is pulled and released", the bones of the arm will be forcibly ejected from the extended limb, traveling in a straight path at speeds recorded over three hundred (300) meters per second. The missing bones and resulting damage to the arm are quickly regenerated, and the weapon is capable of being "fired" again within minutes. Tests using subjects possessing multiple arms/hands, such as SCP-1884-B1, have demonstrated the ability to fire SCP-154 several times, with the bones of different arms being used with each successive firing.
The regeneration implemented by the item is limited, only affecting the damage inflicted by the weapon itself. This regeneration seems to be an automatic action, and will continue in almost all situations. Both firing the weapon and the resulting regeneration are understandably painful, and participants which have used the item once are generally disinclined to repeat usage.
However, there have found to be some occasional abnormalities regarding the regeneration. Most often this manifests simply as minor mutations of the original subject, such as changes in size, pigmentation, and structure of the original organelles. These are an uncommon occurrence, capable of happening during any use of the weapon, though generally tend to occur during repeat usage.
There are more drastic abnormalities, though these are much rarer, and coincide with highly frequent use. These mutations can range from anything such as the growth of extra joints and digits in the affected arm, to a complete change of the chemical or physical structure of the limb.
One test subject unknowingly had the bone matter within his arm converted into an unstable explosive compound, only discovering the fact when it detonated, causing two fatalities and three casualties. Another had the entire bone and musculature structure morphed into fully functional serpentine physiology.

Footnotes
1. SCP-1884-B was permitted to be used in testing with its approval. SCP-1884-B was able to fire five shots from SCP-154 within a minute. Testing ceased on SCP-1884-B's request following SCP-1884-A becoming distressed due to pain associated with SCP-154 use.

« SCP-153 | SCP-154 | SCP-155 »


A non-anomalous processor board removed from SCP-155.

Item #: SCP-155
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-155 is contained in a heat-treated and radiation-shielded containment chamber at Site ██. Recovered documentation and the reverse-engineered compiler for SCP-155 are available for all personnel with sufficient clearance on Site ██'s secure file server, but execution of programs on SCP-155 may only be performed with prior permission from at least two (2) Level 3 Senior Researchers. Please see Document 155-EXEC-1 for radiation and thermal safety procedures for the safe operation of SCP-155.
As of Incident 155-08, experimentation on SCP-155 has been suspended pending decontamination of SCP-155's former containment chamber and relocation to a new containment chamber. All tasks intended for execution on SCP-155 must now be triple-checked to prevent the possibility of non-halting execution.
Description: SCP-155 is a complex electronic construct consisting of a highly modified Cray CS6400 supercomputer, a dedicated radioisotope thermoelectric generator, and a device that has yet to be fully reverse-engineered. SCP-155 was recovered from the basement of Prometheus Labs' primary research laboratory by elements of Mobile Task Force Mu-4 ("Debuggers") following the destruction of the facility and subsequent Foundation intervention.
When a program and accompanying data is loaded into SCP-155 and executed, SCP-155 generates a spherical temporal distortion field with a radius of approximately 5 m. Within this sphere of influence the passage of time is rapidly accelerated, resulting in a hyperbolic increase in the effective processing power of SCP-155. Execution begins slowly as the processing hardware of SCP-155 is dated, but its effective processing power approaches infinity after approximately 8 minutes and 14 seconds of execution. From fragments of documentation recovered from Prometheus Labs, SCP-155 was used to perform massive calculation jobs that would have taken months if not years of processing time with conventional computing devices.
Despite its capabilities, operation of SCP-155 is highly dangerous as heat and radiation generated by SCP-155 are trapped and accumulate during operation, forming a sort of 'event horizon' of energy that is released when execution ends. The execution of programs that exceed six (6) minutes results in enough radiation generated that the containment chamber in which SCP-155 is contained must be decontaminated before research personnel may re-enter.
Addendum 155-01: Incident 155-08
On █/██/██, Dr. ███████ entered a flawed program into SCP-155 that resulted in non-halting execution (an infinite loop). After attending researchers and technicians realized the error, an emergency shutdown of SCP-155 was initiated but it could not be fully stopped until execution had exceeded 8 minutes and 3 seconds. At this point, an intense wave of heat and radiation melted through SCP-155's containment chamber, resulting in eleven (11) casualties and the total destruction of the C wing of Site ██. SCP-155 only received minor damage in the incident, but experimentation is suspended while revised safety procedures are under review and replacement parts are procured to repair components damaged by accelerated aging.

« SCP-154 | SCP-155 | SCP-156 »


Item #: SCP-156
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-156 is to be kept in refrigerated Storage Unit 19c except when removed for experimentation. Subjects infected by SCP-156 are to be restrained and monitored for their own safety. From September 21st-March 21st, infected subjects should be kept within a secure storage unit unless the experiment's parameters indicate otherwise. Both storage facilities should be monitored by security camera. The termination and autopsy of D-Class Personnel assigned to SCP-156 should be delayed until after March 21st. No personnel are permitted to consume SCP-156 except D-class personnel unless approved by a level 3 staff member.
Description: SCP-156 is a group of exactly 181 pomegranate arils. The number of instances of SCP-156 is constant. When one is ingested or destroyed, it is replaced instantaneously with a new one among the largest group of contiguous instances. Otherwise, the instances can be moved around freely. After leaving the group (i.e. after an instance is touching no other instance), the instance will spoil normally, after which a new instance will appear. When all instances are destroyed simultaneously, all 181 instances reappear randomly at the location of one of the destroyed arils. Attempts to measure the time between destruction of one instance and the appearance of a new one using high-speed cameras have so far failed.
If SCP-156 is ingested between March 21st and September 20th, subjects display no signs of infection until noon of September 21st, when all vital processes abruptly cease. A similar effect is observed immediately when SCP-156 is ingested after September 21st. Despite being technically dead, postmortem examinations of subjects have been unable to discover a cause of death. Subjects appear to have been in perfect health, aside from any pre-existing conditions. While "dead", subjects do not show any signs of decomposition though the bodies of many subjects begin displaying bruising and scarring consistent with torture. While the majority of subjects suffer these wounds, not all do, and no reliable formula has been discovered to predict which subjects will be affected. Infected subjects remain in this dormant state until noon of March 21st, when life processes restart. Subjects remember little of the intervening time period. While most subjects are entirely unaware that any time has passed since their apparent death, some claim to recall a pale white male face and a wilting pomegranate tree.
Subjects continue to die and reanimate annually on September and March 21st, respectively, until killed by another cause. Reanimation only occurs from deaths caused by ingesting SCP-156.
After undergoing a single death-reanimation cycle, subjects began displaying high levels of distress and paranoia as time approaches September 21st, even if they have not been made aware of the death-reanimation cycle. Furthermore, subjects will take extreme lengths to avoid taking any sort of risk or danger to their person, even if they had displayed risk-taking behaviors prior to ingesting SCP-156. Over the course of multiple death/reanimation cycles, these psychological symptoms become more pronounced. At the same time, physical symptoms during the dormant period increase in intensity for the subjects suffering from them. Eventually, physical wounds on subjects will begin to emulate burns and puncture wounds. Many subjects gain a phobia of dogs and dead plants after 3-5 reanimations. After several deaths caused by SCP-156, the ocular tissue undergoes necrosis in many subjects. This tissue does not reanimate with the rest of the body. Often, after ten or more reanimations, reanimation of bodily processes will occur but the subject will fail to regain consciousness, entering a comatose state. Death and reanimation continues annually even after subjects have reached this stage.
SCP-156 came to the attention of the Foundation after an incident in ████████, Greece, after ██ people died on September 21st, 19██,without apparent cause. The Foundation became involved after locals reported the return of several of the dead who had been interred in above ground vaults the following spring. After questioning these subjects, all reported having attended a party at the house of one A█████ K█████, who had been buried and was found, asphyxiated in her coffin. SCP-156 was discovered within the house, fresh despite the intervening six months since the incident. Testing commenced on D-Class personnel on August ██, 19██. D-E15624, the first test subject, died on September 2█, 19██, and was autopsied. No cause of death could be found. Subject was left under monitoring in storage. On March 2█, 19██, subject began to show brain activity and subject's heart began beating despite the body having taken significant damage during the autopsy. D-E15624 expired shortly thereafter without regaining consciousness. Arils given SCP status and longer term testing was ordered.

« SCP-155 | SCP-156 | SCP-157 »