Item #: SCP-317
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-317-1 is to be preserved in a vat of liquid nitrogen. Requests for tissue samples from SCP-317-1 must be made in writing; all research into tissue samples from SCP-317-1 must be in compliance with class-5 biohazard protocols.
Examination of SCP-317-2 must be done in class-3 cleanroom facilities. Requests for examination of 317-2 must be made in writing.
SCP-317-3 has been disassembled; the parts are stored in ██ separate locations. Requests for examination of 317-3 must be made in writing to two separate O5-level personnel. No two components of SCP-317-3 may be brought within 100 km of each other.
Description: SCP-317-1 is the cadaver of a sapient reptilian entity tentatively identified as a previously-unknown species of pachycephalosaurid. Subject was bipedal, female, and 3 m tall, and wore clothing made from synthetic polymers; subject also wore corrective lenses. Subject was largely herbivorous, and had prehensile digits.
Subject's metabolism was adapted to a higher atmospheric oxygen content, and therefore subject wore a respirator device when not in its quarters.
Biochemical analysis postmortem (rhodopsins, mitochondria, homeobox genes, cytochrome P450) confirms that SCP-317-1 shared common ancestry with current Earth life. Autopsy records are available in archive 317-B-685.
In the forty days between its arrival in Foundation custody, and its death from a lactobacillus infection, SCP-317-1 learned to communicate via a combination of sign language, crude vocalizations, and drawings; video archive 317-B-36 shows interview sessions with SCP-317-1. Drawings made by SCP-317-1 are available in archive 317-B-42 (general access: basic anatomical figures; interactions between itself and Foundation personnel; demonstration of knowledge of mathematics; demonstration of knowledge of chemistry; demonstration of knowledge of nuclear physics) and archive 317-B-58 (restricted access: circuit diagrams, mechanical schematics, [DATA EXPUNGED]).
SCP-317-2 is the personal effects of SCP-317-1: a tunic, a robe, a tool belt, six tools, corrective lenses, an oxygen mask, three empty oxygen tanks, a fire-damaged document pouch made from synthetic polymers and its fire-damaged contents, and a fire-damaged digital camera whose contents were unrecoverable.
SCP-317-3 is the fire-damaged remains of what is believed to have been a time machine, which SCP-317-1 was attempting to repair at the time it was taken into custody by the Foundation. Preliminary testing of the intact components revealed [DATA EXPUNGED], at which point all testing was halted and SCP-317-3 was disassembled.
Notes: There's something wrong with this one, people. A technological civilization should have left some trace in the stratigraphic record. If there was a Holocene Epoch before us, where did the evidence go? - Dr. █████
It's not just the complete lack of trace in the fossil record. It's the species. How could it have been a pachycephalosaurid that developed intelligence? They were at best average for Cretaceous fauna. Why not a troodontid, an ornithomimid, or another small theropod? There's something going on here that we're missing. - Dr. M████

« SCP-316 | SCP-317 | SCP-318 »


Item #: SCP-318
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-318 is to be kept in the center of a chamber at least 5 m by 8 m by 5 m, resting on a hydraulic lift to allow examination of the underside of the device. The door to this chamber is to be kept locked at all times, with access codes available to any Level 3 or higher staff, with access by personnel of Level 2 clearance or below requiring approval from at least one Level 4 staff member.
Instances of SCP-318-1 are to be kept completely wound, except during testing, and stored in Secure Item Storage. Unrolling or communicating with SCP-318-1 is prohibited outside testing, and all personnel interacting with SCP-318-1 are to be subjected to regular psychiatric evaluations until at least one month after the most recent interaction.
Description: SCP-318 appears similar to a small version of a crude rotary printing press, with a great deal of additional machinery attached at various locations. The device is composed primarily of a variety of hardwoods, with metallic parts made from brass, bronze, cast or wrought iron, copper, steel, and aluminum. SCP-318 in its entirety is approximately 3.5 m wide, 6 m long, and 2 m tall. A more complete physical description can be found in Addendum 318-02.
When a living human, or a human cadaver that has been dead less than 6 hours, is placed in the input box and the lid closed, SCP-318 activates, using an undetermined power source. Cameras placed inside with test subjects have not been recovered, but video transmitted prior to their destruction shows [DATA EXPUNGED], with the vocalizations of conscious subjects audible to observers outside the box. During the process, lids of both boxes lock in place such that any force sufficient to open them would likely also cause significant damage to SCP-318. Tests using this level of force are currently awaiting approval.
SCP-318 remains active for approximately five (5) minutes per use, with exact time seemingly dependent upon the body mass and physical condition of the subject. After SCP-318 ceases activity, all covers unlock, the test subject is no longer present in the input box, and a "scroll" (designated SCP-318-1) is present in the output box. SCP-318-1 takes the form of a strip of paper seven inches (17.8 cm) wide and two feet (60.1 cm) long, wrapped around a black-enameled wooden dowel one inch (2.5 cm) in diameter and eight inches (20.3 cm) long. The dowel and paper appear entirely normal, though testing reveals the presence of human DNA (matching that of converted subject) present in the paper.
This scroll contains the memories and consciousness of the test subject, who is able to communicate when SCP-318-1 is at least partially unrolled by causing drawings and/or writing to appear on the paper. These marks only appear on the side of the paper that faces inward when rolled up, and are generally consistent with the penmanship and artistic ability of the subject, though the quality of drawings improves markedly when SCP-318-1 can "see" what it is depicting. Subjects stored on instances of SCP-318-1 report the ability to feel the scroll as if it were their body, expressing a corresponding form of pain when the paper is cut, torn, burned, [DATA EXPUNGED], or otherwise distressed. Significant damage appears to render SCP-318-1 inoperative in some way, as once the scroll is damaged beyond a certain extent (generally the compromise of at least ██% of the paper's surface), subjects are unresponsive and display no further activity. It is currently unknown whether this is because the copy of the subject has been destroyed, or because their mode of communication has been cut off.
In addition, so long as SCP-318-1 is at least partially unrolled, subjects are apparently able to perceive their environment visually and aurally, with an acuity consistent with an average human adult. Requests for testing on blind and/or deaf subjects are currently pending approval.
Personas stored on instances of SCP-318-1 respond as would be expected from the original subject, and have full access to the subject's memory, as well as a complete memory of their time stored on SCP-318-1. They are unable to exert any direct influence on objects or personnel, and though they can make requests of a reader, the reader is under no obligation or compulsion to accede to these requests. Testing has shown no memetic properties in writings or drawings on SCP-318-1, and subjects do not appear to be more persuasive than they were while alive. However, some staff have through prolonged interaction displayed sympathy towards SCP-318-1 subjects - such individuals should be transferred to nonsentient SCP items, or terminated if a transfer is not feasible.
Addendum 318-01: SCP-318 was recovered by Foundation agents on ██/██/20██, in ███████, █████. Stories of a "Library of the Ancestors" caught the attention of Dr. ███████, who was vacationing nearby. Investigation revealed an isolated monastery, containing both SCP-318 and several hundred instances of SCP-318-1. Both the press and the scrolls were taken into Foundation custody, along with a number of other suspicious items (none of which have yet proven anomalous), the monks questioned and terminated, and the monastery destroyed. Local news reports the following day reflected the accidental fire which claimed the lives of all its inhabitants, as well as their extensive collection of antiques. Efforts are ongoing to determine whether any instances of SCP-318-1 remain in existence outside Foundation custody.
Addendum 318-02: Some parts of SCP-318 appear to be significantly older than others, with the aluminum parts clearly manufactured in modern times, while carbon dating has placed some of the wooden components to before the tenth century CE. It is currently unknown whether the more recent parts were installed to replace broken parts, or whether they are part of some sort of modification on the original design. The presumably oldest (and possibly original) parts are distributed throughout the device, suggesting that its overall age is at least 1100 years, despite the fact that this predates the first known appearance of several elements of its design by centuries.
The modifications present in SCP-318 compared to a normal rotary press are extensive, and a full listing of these can be found in [REDACTED]. Those with the greatest known relevance are as follows: In place of the hopper that would normally feed paper into a press of this design, there is a large section of machinery (comprising almost half the total size of SCP-318), including a hinged-lidded box constructed of oak (specifically [REDACTED]), bearing a bronze plaque displaying the word "MATERIA" and has interior dimensions of approximately 1.83 m (six feet) long and 0.91 m (three feet) square. A second box, one eighth the dimensions of the first (to six significant figures), is located where the output would normally be on a press of similar design and bears a plaque reading "SENTENTIA". Discoloration of the wood around each plaque indicates that they may not be original. The components which would normally transfer ink and water to their respective rollers are absent, with several cloth and leather hoses running to the "MATERIA" box. Testing of the roller surfaces for residues has thus far been inconclusive.
Addendum 318-03: Work is currently underway to catalog the recovered SCP-318-1. For a complete listing of SCP-318-1 that have been catalogued, including those produced after SCP-318's recovery, see Document 318-1-███. For selected interview excerpts and stimulus test results, see Experiment Log 318.
Addendum 318-04: Requests to use SCP-318 to enable final debriefing of sufficiently recently deceased Foundation personnel are currently pending approval. Request to use SCP-318 to interview test subjects killed by memetic SCPs is denied.
Addendum 318-05: Additional resources and personnel have been requested for the translation and cataloguing of SCP-318-1, as several recent interviews with SCP-318-1 subjects have yielded useful information about certain SCP objects, including [DATA EXPUNGED]. Some interviews have also indicated the possible existence of previously unknown SCPs, one of which (SCP-███) has since been located and contained. It should be noted that a number of the leads produced through interviews of SCP-318-1 subjects have proven to be fabrications, and all information obtained from SCP-318-1 should be considered suspect. In spite of this, it is the belief of this researcher that there may be much to be gained in questioning all SCP-318-1 about other potential SCP objects.

« SCP-317 | SCP-318 | SCP-319 »


Item #: SCP-319
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-319 is to be contained in place at Site-319 inside a hermetically sealed vacuum chamber 20 meters in diameter. The chamber housing SCP-319 must be insulated and the surface temperature controlled to present an absolutely uniform thermal gradient. SCP-319 is to rest on a platform with an active mass damping system, and the relative position of the housing for each instance of SCP-319-1, and the diameter and position of SCP-319-2 shall be continually monitored by high precision laser rangefinders. Any deviations in the position of any instance of SCP-319-1 by greater than 0.01% on any axis, or any change in size or position of SCP-319-2 by greater than 0.001%, is deemed a potential Götterdämmerung Scenario, and a risk of a ZK-0 Event. Foundation-wide initiation of protocol Omega-319 is mandated in response to such an event until such time as the positions of SCP-319-1 are returned to optimal and SCP-319-2 has ceased growth and movement.
Any and all scientific investigation of SCP-319, SCP-319-1, and SCP-319-2 is authorized only with explicit O5 approval.
Description: SCP-319 is a mechanical device constructed circa 1894, consisting primarily of 12 interlocking rings assembled in an 8-meter diameter spherical formation, allowing a clockwork mechanism, driven by electric motors, to rotate each ring separately on each axis. The purpose of the assembly appears to be the precise placement of 12 instances of SCP-319-1 in relation to each other. The assembly has been frozen in its current configuration since its recovery, and current motion of instances of SCP-319-1 have been almost solely due to tectonic disturbances and thermal expansion/contraction of the material comprising SCP-319.1
SCP-319-1 designates 12 anomalous mineral specimens mounted on SCP-319. Each instance of SCP-319-1 is nearly fully enclosed in a housing made of brass, copper and glass, with a 12mm opening pointed at the center of SCP-319-2. Each housing for SCP-319-1 is connected to heavy-duty electrical cabling that loops in a closed circuit connecting each instance. Measurements indicate a constant 50 amperes of current in this circuit despite no connection to an outside power source.
SCP-319-2 designates a bubble of vacuum 2.561 meters across suspended inside SCP-319. SCP-319-2 appears to be in a lower energy state than the surrounding universe. Because of the alteration of physical constants within this bubble, any matter and energy entering this bubble is annihilated, as their quantum structures are incompatible. Current theory predicts that the existence of SCP-319-2 should catalyze a vacuum metastability event, resulting in the expansion of the boundary of SCP-319-2 at the speed of light, bringing the vacuum state of the surrounding universe down to its lower energy state.2 The expansion of SCP-319-2 appears to be held in check by the precise positioning of SCP-319-1 around it. This is supported by the fact that any recorded movement of SCP-319-1 allows SCP-319-2 to grow by varying amounts. Over the past 50 years, vibrations and thermal expansion have moved SCP-319-1 enough to allow SCP-319-2 to enlarge by 0.██ meters in diameter, meaning that, at its current rate of expansion, in ███ years containment will fail as the outer boundary of SCP-319-2 intersects the innermost ring of SCP-319.
Addendum: Selected excerpts from the journal of Sir Bandon Lawhead-Smythe, recovered with SCP-319.

August 12, 1893: I found myself pleasantly surprised today when word arrived of a shipment from England. It appears my rival was as good as his word, living up to the terms of our wager. It seems that day, six months ago in the Explorer's Club, Lord █████████ was not boasting of his accomplishments. Now, if I am not to be made a liar, I shall have to make good upon my own claims.

August 15, 1893: The specimens are exquisite, if one could rightly describe such unnerving carvings so. Ten to match the two I had already acquired. If Lord █████████ experienced half the travails acquiring these as I had my own, I owe the man an apology— even if it must be deferred until after I complete my own expedition.

September 8, 1893: Success! Long study of these odious cults has born sweet fruit indeed. As I suspected, these stones are much more than primitive fetish objects for the worship of savages. The stories of their starborn origins, and the exotic nature of the material, told me that they were much more than that. Something in me finds it almost blasphemous that some ancient hand saw fit to defile such unique material by shaping it into such unclean geometries.

November 12, 1893: The solution was within my grasp all along. The stones, when lit, show a negative potential, and when shaded, positive. A simple copper enclosure, tipped on one end with a mercury tube, can induce a current in the stone, more than enough to power itself and the surrounding mechanism.

January 10, 1894: The workers have all left the cavern. The machine is complete. I will mount the stones today. Soon my feet will step beyond where anyone at the Explorer's Club, even Lord █████████, could ever dream of going.

January 30, 1894: Today I have opened a door beyond our universe! My study of a dozen perverse cults allowed me to divine the precise positioning of the stones. Savages chipped these otherworldly relics into a dim likeness of their gods, whereas I, Sir Bandon Lawhead-Smythe, shall walk across the threshold to greet them. Once I have completed writing this entry, I shall don my protective suit, pass through the locks into the airless interior of the vault where the black door awaits me. When I next write in this journal, I shall have traveled farther than any other man on the face of this Earth. Including the good Lord █████████.
[Last entry. Journal ends]

Footnotes
1. Precise measurements have determined microscopic variations in position due to gravitational tidal effects but, to date, these have appeared to be within acceptable margins.
2. This would represent a ZK-0 Reality Failure scenario. The universe would continue to exist, but would not only cease to support life as we know it, but would fail to support chemistry as we know it.

« SCP-318 | SCP-319 | SCP-320 »


Item #: SCP-320
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: When not being researched, SCP-320 is to be carefully slowly lowered into its 6m3 solid foam transport tray, which is in turn slowly lowered into a 37 metric ton stabilized vault. These precautions are designed to provide a buffer of lightweight, safe material should SCP-320 be accelerated beyond control and to keep SCP-320 as motionless as possible during containment.
Description: SCP-320 is a small glass sphere which affects normal Euclidean space when accelerated along any line of motion. The ball of glass itself is just over 10.4 cm (4.1 in) in diameter and just 31.2 grams (1.1 ounces). Light refraction experiments and computed tomography scans have proven that SCP-320 does contain a hollow vacuum. No physical tests have been able to explain why SCP-320 reacts with space/time in the manner that it does.
As SCP-320 accelerates, its mass and gravitational effect on matter and space around it compound exponentially in relation to its acceleration. The theoretical physics that predict these effects are more in line with those of String Theory, though the effects are not fully accounted for. As the ball speeds up, it is surmised that a possible theoretical 'Higgs Field' becomes bunched up and drags against it, observed as an increase in mass. This is both in line with and against Einstein's theory of relativity, governing matter's limit of speed. A second theory claims that while at rest, SCP-320 houses an uncollapsed singularity. When in motion, the uncollapsed gravity field folds in upon itself, strengthening it.
As normal matter accelerates toward the speed of light, its own mass becomes the limiting factor of its own speed, slowing it down, making it harder and harder to accelerate from an observer's point of view as if drag was acting upon it. In a similar sense, the mass of SCP-320 slows its acceleration, but does so in an unexpected, unique way. At rest, the mass of SCP-320 is normal and thought to be acclimated to the rotation of the Earth around the Sun and the rotation of the Sun around the Galaxy. However, moving SCP-320 (i.e. accelerating it from any stop or constant velocity) causes the mass of the sphere to increase at an exponential rate, increasing its relative gravity but not momentum.
This means that while in accelerated motion, normal matter in the general area of SCP-320 is pulled toward, and in the direction of motion of the sphere, often resulting in violent winds and large scale devastation in the wake of SCP-320's trajectory. Though it has been too dangerous to accelerate SCP-320 towards its speed limit, through mathematical extrapolation it is believed that the fastest SCP-320 is able to travel would be a maximum of 125.5 km/h (78 mph) to an observer before its own mass halts its acceleration. Though the observed increase in gravity is attributed to an increase of mass of SCP-320, the effect is considered to be only relative as SCP-320's momentum is not representative of a mass greater than that observed during its resting state.
In other words, any object being struck by SCP-320 while it is in motion, experiences a simple collision as if it was a hollow marble and not the effects of being struck by a small singularity.
Spectrometer testing of the glass composition of SCP-320 reveals a high concentration of manganese oxide, reminiscent of Cristallo glass. Calcium oxide has helped protect the clarity of SCP-320 from corrosion over the last few hundred years.

« SCP-319 | SCP-320 | SCP-321 »


Item #: SCP-321
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-321 is to be kept in a regulation containment chamber. SCP-321 has been outfitted with extensive braces, to make up for weaknesses in bone structure and muscle mass. Its artificial heart is to be examined once a month for any damage. SCP-321 is to be fed three times daily. Solid foods are excluded from its prescribed diet. Three staff members are on temporary SCP-321 assignment at this time. SCP-321 is to be given three hours a day of exercise and physical therapy, with the rest of its time not involved in experiments to be confined to its cell. While SCP-321 is incapable of asking for anything, it has been allowed several stuffed toys.
Description: SCP-321 is a human female, born on July 4, 18██. SCP-321 is currently 3.1 meters tall, and weighs approximately 110 kilograms. Subject is devoid of melanins in hair, eyes, and skin. It is incapable of speech, but can still vocalise, and has proven to have problems with spacial recognition and awareness. SCP-321 has displayed a low degree of intellect, and has problems adjusting to new situations.
SCP-321 was the stillborn child of Junior Researcher Adam █████ and his wife, Medical Assistant Evelyn █████. Junior Researcher █████ took it upon himself to make use of several SCPs, including SCP-590 in an effort to bring his daughter back to life. The procedure worked, but the result was taken into Foundation custody for examination. The subject was later given an SCP designation.
SCP-321 was quickly found to have recuperative abilities, capable of healing injuries inflicted upon it at approximately five times the normal rate. Subject was at this time entered into Foundation records as SCP-321. In the time since, SCP-321's body has continued to age at a decelerated rate, approximately half that of a normal human. Although its aging has been slowed, SCP-321 has continued to grow, showing no signs of stopping despite now being taller than any recorded human. At this point in time, it is believed SCP-321's recuperative abilities stem from over abundant production of stem cells, a result of its interaction upon death with [REDACTED].
For a period of time beginning in early 19██, the limits of SCP-321's natural heart were reached, and SCP-321 was too tall for blood to be circulated properly. During this period, SCP-321 was restrained physically in order to keep its heart capable of pumping blood to the brain. Despite this, slow decay was evident and the limits of SCP-321's recuperative abilities were found, as it was not capable of healing damage that was being dealt constantly. Work began in 1948 to create an artificial heart to prolong SCP-321's existence; the heart was completed in 19██. Since then, all damage to SCP-321 has been healed.
SCP-321 has a very low intelligence. Everyday activities are a chore for it, and it can take several months, to years, to teach it to do such things as use utensils for eating. While SCP-321 has fully developed vocal cords, it seems incapable of learning speech, instead crying and making nonsense noises as of those typically heard from infants under the age of six months.
July 31, 18██: Requesting SCP-321 be removed from SCP status. -Junior Researcher Adam █████
Request Denied. -O5-█
January 10, 18██: Requesting SCP-321 be removed from SCP Status. -Personnel Director Adam █████
Request Denied. -O5-█
May 3, 19██: We can learn nothing more from SCP-321, suggesting we remove its SCP designation. -Site Director Adam █████, Site-04
Request Denied. -O5-█
June 31, 19██: SCP-321 is to be decommissioned and returned to her family, effective immediately. -O5-12
Request Denied. This is the final time, Adam. She is not now, nor ever has been, your daughter. If you attempt this again, I will gather the council, and you will be removed. -O5-1

« SCP-320 | SCP-321 | SCP-322 »


Item #: SCP-322
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-322 is to be contained in a secure locker in Storage Unit-3. SCP-322 can be utilized for certain missions or for research, but a full length proposal must be submitted and accepted.
Description: SCP-322 is a cardboard box, 60 cm (24 in) in width, 30 cm (12 in) in height, and 15 cm (6 in) in depth, with the words "Grow Your Own Castle Kit" and a stylized cartoon similar to those in circulation in the 1950's.
The box contains a small, very simple pamphlet, and a glass jar filled with large grains of sand. The pamphlet states a simple set of instructions, that, when followed correctly, will produce a large castle. An exact transcript of the manual is as follows:

Hey there kiddo!
So you want your own castle, but you don't want to waste your time imagining one? Then this is the kit for you!
All you have to do is plant one of the specially made "Castle Seeds" somewhere where there's a lot of free space, such as a field, under three feet of dirt! Having trouble digging that all by yourself son? Then convince an adult to help by promising him vassalage over some of YOUR soon to be kingdom!
The next step is just as easy! But just as important!
All you have to do is make sure you water your castle everyday at 12 o'clock for seven days! That's a week! And make sure you do it too, otherwise it won't work, and then you're back at square one!
Make sure you follow all the steps and you should have your very own castle in just seven days! Pretty nifty, huh sport?

When these directions are followed the result is a large stone fortress, including an inner keep, a courtyard, and outer wall, in the location that the "seeds" were planted.
Placing more than one seed increases the size of the castle twofold per extra seed planted, and the styles, (Romanesque, Baroque, Gothic, Kremlin, Shiro, et al) depend on the color of the "seed" that has been planted.
On rare occasions, when a castle has formed, there is already a staff of servants within utterly dedicated to the original planter, although they are often inhuman in appearance.1
Additional Notes: The object was found in Orlando, Florida, in 19██, in the hands of someone trying to turn it into an amusement park. The item was confiscated and the person in question had their memory purged.

Footnotes
1. While no conclusive link between the two has been discovered, SCP-2448 is notably similar in that it is a castle that occasionally manifests humanoid denizens.

« SCP-321 | SCP-322 | SCP-323 »


SCP-323 in a temporary testing chamber.

Item #: SCP-323
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-323 is to be kept in a 17m x 17m x 17m concrete containment cell in Site-91. The object is to be restrained in the center of the cell within a 1m3 container of 8.8cm thick transparent armor lined with one-way laminate, which is to be fit with one (1) electronically locked access port. This container is to be internally lit, with the surrounding cell kept dimmer to facilitate the one-way laminate. The cell is to be surveyed remotely at all times, and any signs of activity are to be reported.
No personnel are to enter SCP-323's containment cell except to examine the integrity of SCP-323's restraint measures. The restraint measures are to be examined bi-weekly, and any signs of damage are to be repaired immediately. All personnel who enter SCP-323's containment cell are to be accompanied by an armed guard. Personnel are not to be within SCP-323's containment cell for longer than forty-five (45) minutes, and any communication around SCP-323 is to be written or spoken in a language other than English or French.
In the event that SCP-323 breaches containment and an instance of SCP-323-1 is formed, personnel are to evacuate Site-91 and the site is to be locked down. Remote units are to be deployed to destroy the body of SCP-323-1; following this, armed personnel may be sent in to re-establish the containment of SCP-323.
Description: SCP-323 is the skull of an unidentified cervid measuring 55cm long, 27cm wide, and 31cm tall, with a pair of antlers, measuring 35cm tall and 46cm from tip to tip, growing from the left and right sides of SCP-323. SCP-323 shows signs of damage consistent with outside exposure, with regular pitting, scarring and weathering across the object, bleaching on the upper surfaces and a missing lower mandible. The rear of the skull features an approximately centered ovoid gap, measuring 25 cm high and 23cm wide, giving access to an interior space 16cm deep. This gap shows signs of tool use, indicating that it was carved with tools, possibly stone.
SCP-323 displays the ability to react to aural, tactile, and visual stimuli. Testing has revealed SCP-323 appears to have a field of view similar to that of other cervids, and has responded to visual stimuli from up to 50m away. The targeting of specific members of personnel, various attempts to breach containment, and the violent reaction towards speakers of the French and English languages suggests a level of sapience; however, this is unconfirmed.
SCP-323 is capable of limited locomotion, typically in the form of small movements and vibrations. In most cases, SCP-323 will only locomote in the event of various stimuli, such as moving away when touched or turning when personnel are present within its containment chamber. SCP-323 has demonstrated the ability to make larger movements, such as lunging at personnel and repeatedly attempting to force its way through containment measures.
SCP-323 exerts an influential effect in a radius extending roughly 15m from itself. Individuals within this radius will begin experiencing cannibalistic thoughts and urges, violent outbursts, and impaired judgement after approximately one (1) hour of continuous exposure. Roughly 74% of individuals who reach this point will attempt to place their heads through the gap present in the back of SCP-323, with efforts made to keep their mouths uncovered. If an individual is incapable of fitting their heads through the gap, attempts will be made to bludgeon their heads against nearby hard surfaces until the point the individual's head fits, the individual loses consciousness, or the individual expires. Once the individual has fit their head through SCP-323, the individual is classified as SCP-323-1.
Within ten (10) minutes of putting SCP-323 on, SCP-323-1 will undergo drastic physical alterations. SCP-323-1 will experience a rapid loss of body fat, body hair, and pigmentation, followed by the rupturing of the distal phalanges from the fingertips, abnormal tooth growth, and the blackening of extremities consistent with frostbite. Additionally, SCP-323-1 appears to experience greater strength and pain tolerance than the average human; however; SCP-323-1 still appears to be as susceptible to physical harm as it was prior to its introduction to SCP-323.
SCP-323-1's metabolism will experience a dramatic increase, requiring a constant caloric intake, with starvation occurring anywhere between fifteen (15) to thirty (30) minutes if no self-preservation efforts are made. In order to sustain its increased metabolism, SCP-323-1 will actively seek out and eat other individuals for sustenance until expiration. In the event SCP-323-1 is incapable of finding plentiful nourishment, SCP-323-1 will make efforts to sustain itself, including limiting movement, rationing available food, and autocannibalism. SCP-323-1 will only feed upon humans; it is presumed that SCP-323-1 is capable of receiving sustenance from other sources, but chooses not to, despite availability or ease of access. During the pursuit of individuals, SCP-323-1 has been known to occasionally make various statements in the Severn Ojibwe, Potawatomi, and Cree languages, as well as in the native language of the instance. It is not known if these statements and the knowledge of these languages is the result of SCP-323's anomalous influence or if they originate from SCP-323 itself.

Recovered Audio Log, Incident SCP-323-B752Z4, 11/09/06

ACCESS GRANTED

The following audio log has been transcribed from surveillance recovered during the 11/09/06 containment breach of SCP-323, which resulted in the death of twelve personnel members before containment could be re-established. No accompanying video surveillance could be recovered.

SCP-323-1: Hungry. So… hungry.
The sound of dragging can be heard, as SCP-323-1's voice becomes louder.
SCP-323-1: I… must eat. So very hungry. Always… always hungry.
Several thumps can be heard, followed by a wet crack.
SCP-323-1: Must… not eat. I have to eat. So hungry. So… lonely.
What is presumed to be SCP-323-1 eating can be heard, accompanied by what sounds like panting.
SCP-323-1: Alone. Hungry. Should… eat. Must. Must… eat them all. I must eat… to know… warmth.
SCP-323-1 creates a loud vocalization, followed by a wet thump.
SCP-323-1: So cold! Must eat!

SCP-323 was recovered on 09/12/97 in the Bittern Lake reserve, part of the Lac La Ronge First Nation in Saskatchewan, Canada. ██████ █████, a small, unregistered community, had been sustaining an active SCP-323-1 instance by routinely murdering individuals and leaving them out as an 'appeasement'. Investigation revealed ██ individuals were involved, who were interviewed and subsequently administered amnestics, and a cover story involving an unidentified serial killer was propagated. SCP-323-1, at the time suspected to be the anomaly, died of starvation during its transfer to Site-91.
The recorded number of deaths does not appear consistent with the duration of the SCP-323-1 instance. It is suspected SCP-323 went through several instances of SCP-323-1 before containment; however, no irrefutable evidence supporting SCP-323-1's longevity has been uncovered.
Interview SCP-323-A: James Namagoose, an individual involved in the murders and sustaining of SCP-323-1 prior to its containment was brought in for questioning involving SCP-323-1. Mr. Namagoose remained unusually calm throughout and after the interview.
Following the interview and containment of SCP-323, Mr. Namagoose was administered amnestics and was reintroduced to his community.

Dr. ███████: Please state your name for the record.
Namagoose: James Namagoose.
Dr. ███████: Please state your involvement with the murders.
Namagoose: I helped move the bodies for the wendigo to eat.
Dr. ███████: What do you know about the object?
Namagoose: There is a story of the Cree men, back when fighting was common, who tried to control the wendigo, to give his people an advantage. It was just a story. The elders knew more, but we were safe, so we didn't ask.
Dr. ███████: When did you first encounter the entity?
Namagoose: One night I heard yelling all around the village. A warped man walked out of the woods, killed our friends right in front of us. Sometimes it would stare more than it would make to kill, try to talk to you. It whispered at me, "pe misto", "come and eat"'. It made me cold in my bones.
Dr. ███████: And then?
Namagoose: Then I felt like I could understand the warped man, the wendigo, and that we could leave with him like we all do when we pass. When I was made to kill, I thought of this and it calmed me. I didn't run.
Mr. Namagoose closes his eyes and exhales slowly. After a minute, he resumes talking.
Namagoose: It would look at me sometimes. I could hear him in my mind, I could feel him watching me from out of my own eyes. This helped me watch these people die, and I hoped it would pass on my family.
Dr. ███████: Thank you, Mr. Namagoose.

Final Note: No mental effects similar to what Mr. Namagoose stated have yet to be reported by staff who have interacted with SCP-323 or SCP-323-1. Further investigation into this is not planned; however, staff are encouraged to report any atypical thoughts or feelings experienced while working with either.

« SCP-322 | SCP-323 | SCP-324 »


Item #: SCP-324
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: While SCP-324 does not require efforts beyond basic botanical maintenance to thrive, access to its products are to be strictly controlled to prevent theft and possible uncontrolled cultivation. SCP-324 is to be contained within a secure solarium or equivalent agricultural facility in a minimum of five (5) cubic meters of soil. Soil should be maintained at a consistent pH of between 4 and 4.5, with a minimum 12% humus (or similar organic compound) component to topsoil. A misting system or other remote means of watering should be implemented to minimize the number of staff with access to SCP-324.
SCP-324 is currently held at Site-23, solarium 16, bay 194 under these conditions. As on-site research staff already has access to specialized botanical testing equipment and methodologies via the containment of SCP-038, transfer of SCP-324 to another facility is subject to Level 4 approval. Products of SCP-324 (designated SCP-324-1) may be transferred between research staff as necessary with Level 3 approval. To maintain SCP-324 as the only mature specimen during initial research, attempts to cultivate further specimens from SCP-324-1 off-site are currently suspended.
Description: SCP-324 is a small, evergreen shrub currently 1.4 meters in height and possessing a complex root system that extends approximately 2.5m below the soil. Leaves are lanceolate, ranging between 4-6cm in width. During the flowering phase, SCP-324 produces small (14-22mm) white flowers with nine (9) petals. Berries produced by SCP-324 are designated SCP-324-1, and appear pinkish-white in color with diameters between nine (9) and fourteen (14) millimeters. Berries are edible, with flavor reported as tart and mildly sweet.
SCP-324's flowering and berry-producing phase are apparently only initiated by the introduction of a deceased mammal of at least 25kg into its soil. The mammal must be within range of SCP-324's root system, and been deceased no longer than three (3) days at the time of its first contact with SCP-324. If these conditions are met, the flowering phase will begin within sixteen (16) hours of introduction, with mature flowers and SCP-324-1 appearing within seventy-five (75) hours. When eaten, each individual sample of SCP-324-1 will produce a vivid sensory experience re-enacting a seemingly random memory of the deceased mammal's life in the consumer of SCP-324-1. In tests with human cadavers buried in SCP-324's soil, consumers of SCP-324-1 report clear aural and visual impressions including specific locations, conversations, and individuals. The consumer of SCP-324-1 appears to experience the deceased's memory as if it were one of their own, but recognizes it as a product of another mind. In tests featuring animal cadavers, consumers of SCP-324-1 report an overwhelming jumble of sensory input devoid of the usual narrative context produced by human thought. Each experience lasts between two (2) and four (4) minutes before it subsides. If multiple samples of SCP-324-1 are ingested at one time, memories experienced proceed one at a time, each with the same 2-4 minute window.
SCP-324 produces SCP-324-1 for approximately one week regardless of the type or mass of the deceased mammal introduced into its soil. After this period has elapsed, all samples of SCP-324-1 wither and become inert until another deceased mammal is accessed by the root system. Animals incapable of creating memories or lacking memories of their own, such as subjects of SCP-909, likewise produce inert samples of SCP-324-1.
Discovery: SCP-324 was discovered in a small cemetery specializing in "natural" (coffinless, non-preservational) burial in rural ██████████ county, New Hampshire. The groundskeeper, a Mr. Declan █████, would regularly transplant SCP-324 to the graves of the newly-deceased and invite surviving family members to partake of SCP-324-1 for a substantial fee. The scheme was discovered inadvertently when Agent ████████ attended services at the cemetery for his deceased ██████. Upon a demonstration of SCP-324-1's effects, Agent ████████ immediately took both Mr. █████ (debriefed 4/19/██, assigned D-Class) and SCP-324 into Foundation custody. Mr. █████ claimed the shrub had been on the grounds when they were purchased in 19██ and knew nothing further of its origins.
Addendum: Experiment logs 324-42.4 through 324-45.2
SCP-324-1 Consumer: Male, D-Class, #67531, Age 56
Soil input: Human, Female, Aged 34 at T.O.D., Deceased 2 days
Experience report: D-67531 placid for duration of experience. Recounts an afternoon picnic from the perspective of a small female child, including impressions of flying a kite and eating a celery stalk with peanut butter and raisins.
SCP-324-1 Consumer: Female, D-Class, #58563, Age 34
Soil input: Chimpanzee, Female, Aged 44 at T.O.D., Deceased 3 days
Experience report: D-58563 thrashes wildly for the duration of the experience, making gestures as if to ward off an attacker. Recounts impression of being assaulted by multiple individuals uttering high-pitched squeals.
SCP-324-1 Consumer: Male, D-Class, #69965, Age 22
Soil input: Human, Female, Aged 93 at T.O.D., Deceased 2 days
Experience report: D-69965 uncooperative, restraints employed. D-69965 force-fed SCP-324-1. Continues thrashing for forty-three (43) seconds before abruptly relaxing. Eyes glazed for duration of experience. D-69965 drools slightly. Recounts staring out a window from a wheelchair at a busy urban street, sprinklers occasionally splashing the window.
SCP-324-1 Consumer: Female, D-Class, #39395, Age 42
Soil input: Dolphin, Male, Aged 19 at T.O.D., Deceased 1 day
Experience report: D-39395 holds breath for duration of experience, passes out at ninety-seven (97) seconds. Revived, recounts impressions of swimming, darkness, pressure. Claims to distinctly recall "speaking" to another individual, but cannot remember content of conversation.

« SCP-323 | SCP-324 | SCP-325 »


Item #: SCP-325
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-325 is to be held in a standard 30 cm x 10 cm x 10 cm steel box. This box should be waterproofed and lined with hydrophobic rubber, and stored away from any washing facilities. If SCP-325 breaches containment, standard Foundation issue NBC protection suits are to be used to spread desiccant on the affected area. All used desiccant should be incinerated according to standard incineration procedure. SCP-325 can be safely stored at any Site, and with any SCP.
Any personnel showing a greatly increased adherence to cleaning and hygiene than required are to be detained and given new Foundation issue overalls to be worn for the next 24 hours. After this suspected personnel are to undergo a psychiatric evaluation.
Description: SCP-325 is a small bottle of ██████ brand washing detergent, a product commonly sold in the United Kingdom. However, the "█████ █████ █████!" name present on the label does not match any of the ████████ company's current products. SCP-325 contains a semi-viscous green liquid, identical in chemical composition to the "Naturals" range of washing detergent sold by ████████. SCP-325 is a "Value pack" container of concentrated detergent, and currently contains 1,775 millilitres of fluid. One (1) wash of SCP-325 requires 25 ml of liquid, as indicated on the instructions located on the rear of the bottle. This information also contains a warning detailing [REDACTED].
SCP-325 functions in an identical way to a normal detergent, and when used will produce excellent results. Tests with Class-D personnel have indicated that victims will find the quality of the wash much higher than usual, therefore preferring to wear a garment washed in SCP-325 over other articles of clothing washed in normal detergent. However, lab tests have shown there to be no physical or chemical difference between garments washed in SCP-325 or other brands. Further research into low-level memetic threats are ongoing, but as the effects of SCP-325 are contained by non-use, SCP-325 is currently classified as Safe.
When a garment washed in SCP-325 is worn, the subject wearing it will eventually succumb to extreme pervasive paranoid delusions related to mysophobia and cleanliness. This will often induce ritualistic behaviors in the subject, and has lead to subjects harming themselves through excessive cleaning methods such as placing their hands in boiling water or ingesting bleach. There are currently five levels of behaviour caused by SCP-325 exposure documented, with all tests past 480 total hours of exposure resulting in the [DATA EXPUNGED] indicated on the label, unless subject expires at Level 4, as documented below.
All time measurements indicated in the following descriptions of behaviour after exposure are indicated at the average number of hours exposed, rounded up and +/-10%. "Exposure" refers to the time spent physically wearing garments cleaned in SCP-325.
Level 1 Behaviour Subjects exposed to SCP-325 for between 1 and 24 hours will exhibit majorly increased awareness of hygiene and cleanliness. This is usually characterised by excessive hand washing and ordering others to be more clean themselves. This stage will usually pass without comment; however, any staff noticing increased awareness of cleanliness around the storage area of SCP-325 should inform Level-4 clearance personnel immediately.
Level 2 Behaviour Subjects exposed to SCP-325 for between 24 and 96 hours will begin to display extreme mysophobia and manic washing regimens. Exposed subjects will also shun others, only exiting their domicile to stockpile supplies of tinned food and cleaning agents such as bleach. Interviews have shown that subjects view the outside world to be 'unclean'.
Level 3 Behaviour Subjects exposed to SCP-325 for 96 to 240 hours exhibit complete disregard for anything that is considered by them to be unclean, including the outside world. If an object inside their abode can be cleaned by the subject, they will clean it until deemed suitably uncontaminated. All clothing that has not been washed in SCP-325 will also be rejected, and most likely destroyed along with other non-suitable items. Subjects will usually dispose of things by incineration, although no single method is preferred. From this point, only clothing washed in SCP-325 will be worn.
Level 4 Behaviour Currently the stage of most use and interest to the Foundation. After 240 hours of exposure, subjects will cut themselves in order to use their blood as a cleaning agent. Other agents such as bleach will sometimes be added, but this is not a constant behaviour and around 80% of exposed subjects will not add anything. The blood from the victim has been proved to be 100% efficient at removing any contaminant from a surface. The mechanism for this is currently unknown, but tests with the products of SCP-███ and SCP-███ have shown promising results for cleanup after containment breaches.
The composition of the blood has eluded a full analysis so far, with test results showing [DATA EXPUNGED] present in the bloodstream. Further testing is authorised after submitting form 325-T1 to the appropriate Level 4 researcher.
Most test subjects (around 70%) will die of exsanguination or exhaustion before progressing to Level 5.
Level 5 Behaviour Once a subject has been exposed for 480 hours they will proceed to [DATA EXPUNGED - SEE REPORT 325-E1] which resulted in the deaths of ██ civilians and █ Foundation staff. This event is detailed on the warning on SCP-325's label; a copy is available to researchers above Level 3 clearance.
As the ████████ company shows no record of producing SCP-325, yet has the facility to do so if the [REDACTED] is added into their manufacture process, one undercover Agent has been inserted as an employee. Agent █████████ is to stay silent unless production of SCP-325 is found to exist. All instances of SCP-325 found outside of Foundation control are to be destroyed by incineration after testing at the nearest Foundation Site.
Field Agents and MTFs are cleared to terminate any civilians exhibiting confirmed exposure of Level 3 or above. Confirmed Level 2 instances are to be contained and returned to the nearest Foundation Site.

« SCP-324 | SCP-325 | SCP-326 »


Item #: SCP-326
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-326 is contained at Armed Bio-Containment Area 14. Due to SCP-326's severe iatrophobia, personnel who will interact with be seen by SCP-326 are not to wear lab coats. Due to SCP-326's post-traumatic stress disorder, her tendency to undergo panic attacks, and the increased danger she poses to personnel during these episodes, SCP-326 is never to be beyond sight of a 'panic room' into which she can flee; the path between SCP-326 and the closest panic room is to remain unobstructed.
Tranquilizers are to be added to SCP-326's food on a daily basis to mediate her stress; in the event that SCP-326 needs to be transported off-site, she is to be sedated until such time as she can be provided with a new panic room.
SCP-326 is deaf, and communicates via written Chinese; translators are to be available at all times. All communications with SCP-326 are to be archived.
Description: SCP-326 is a human female, approximately 65-70 years old,1 who has been subjected to significant body modifications by an anomalous technology. When inactive, these modifications are detectable only by subject's anomalous mass (230 kg, despite a physique which would indicate a mass of at most 45 kg), and by the presence of significant keloid scarring along her arms, legs, hands, feet, and spinal column. When subject becomes agitated, the scars rupture lengthwise, and the components of a structure emerge; this structure resembles an exoskeleton made from human bone, and bestows upon SCP-326 enhanced strength and speed. The degree to which her speed and strength are enhanced is unknown, as she is reluctant to participate in quantitative testing; however, she has demonstrated the ability to (when in a panic) throw two 100-kilogram security guards over distances greater than 4 meters, and to travel over 20 meters to her panic room in 2.8 seconds. Due to logistical difficulties with sampling (not only is the exoskeleton extremely durable, its accessibility is limited to those times when SCP-326 is panic-stricken), the physical composition of the exoskeleton is as yet unknown, as is its connectivity to SCP-326's musculature and nervous system. Radiographic imaging has been hindered by the subject's phobic reaction to X-ray machines.
SCP-326 is deaf,2 as a result of having deliberately ruptured both of her own eardrums at some time prior to entering into Foundation custody; her stated goal in doing this was to avoid "hear[ing] bad words". Further questioning on this topic results in SCP-326 becoming agitated and distressed.
History: SCP-326 claims to have been an agricultural worker from the rural village of [REDACTED], in [REDACTED] province, People's Republic of China, at the time of Mao Zedong's Great Leap Forward campaign. She describes having been approached by "some young men from [REDACTED]" who induced her to participate in a procedure "for the revolution". The procedure was "very secret" and involved "bad doctors", "bad magic", and "much death"; eventually, however, "the young men stop[ped] coming", and SCP-326 was "left in the room of ice".3
In 20██, a containment breach by SCP-████ led to the collapse of █ buildings in the Chinese city of [REDACTED]. Foundation cleanup crews discovered SCP-326 wandering in the wreckage of the ███████ building, identified her as anomalous, and took her into custody.

Footnotes
1. This figure is SCP-326's physiological age; chronologically, SCP-326 is over 120 years old
2. but still able to speak, in the Pinghua dialect of Chinese
3. this is thought to indicate cryogenic suspension.

« SCP-325 | SCP-326 | SCP-327 »


Item #: SCP-327
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-327 is to be contained within a 40m x 40m x 10m salt water tank within Site-██. The tank is to be cleaned on a weekly basis, or immediately after an algal bloom event. The walls of the tank are to be soundproofed. All staff interacting with SCP-327 or entering the containment are to wear sound-cancelling headphones when not in direct conversation with SCP-327. Any staff who report suffering the effects of SCP-327's properties are to be removed from active duty until cleared by a staff therapist.
SCP-327 is to be fed 15kg of lettuce and assorted leafy vegetables each day, accompanied by appropriate nutritional supplements.
English language instruction for SCP-327 has been approved, to be carried out by Drs. Amberly and Watson. Two hours per day have been allotted for this purpose.
Description: SCP-327 is a female specimen of a mammalian species resembling members of the order Sirenia, specifically Trichechus manatus (West Indian manatee), measuring approximately 2.8 m in length and 450 kg in weight, and estimated to be between 25 and 30 years of age. The subject bears anomalous bodily features: The flippers bear distinct fingers and a functioning opposable thumb, and the skull and facial features resemble that of a human. SCP-327 was hit by a boat propeller 5-10 years before retrieval, as evidenced by heavy scarring on the head and back and traces of severe head trauma.
SCP-327 is sapient and capable of speaking simple English sentences, though it experiences significant difficulty in doing so, both in pronunciation and comprehension of concepts.
SCP-327's anomalous effect is based around its primary vocalization, taking the form of songs similar to that of cetaceans. These vocalizations are regarded as highly unpleasant to listen to, and will result in severe headaches and audio-visual hallucinations in humans, persisting for 6-12 hours. Those affected will often report claustrophobia, an aversion to water and aquatic animals, and occasionally sensations similar to that of drowning. Other mammals will experience the same effects.
During vocalizations, algae and plankton within approximately a kilometer of SCP-327's location will reproduce at incredibly high rates: the resulting algal bloom will cause considerable oxygen depletion and neurotoxin levels in the area and causing mass die-offs of local fish and mollusk life. There are no anomalous properties present in the algae itself, and SCP-327 is immune to all effects caused by its vocalizations.
Interviews with SCP-327 have revealed few concrete details of its origins, due to the specimen's inability to adequately express the information. SCP-327 has implied the existence of other specimens of the species to live in the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea: however, no anomalies resembling the descriptions have been reported.
Addendum-01: Recovery Log: SCP-327 was recovered in August of 2008, after a series of inexplicable mental illnesses amongst citizens of [REDACTED], Florida and reports of unexplained noises in the area. The area had been under Foundation watch for two weeks before it was reported that a “mutant” manatee had been washed ashore by Tropical Storm Fay. After investigation by Foundation agents, amnestics were distributed to the local populace and the specimen was recovered without incident.
Addendum-02: Interview Excerpt ██/██/20██.
For purposes of readability, SCP-327's accent has been corrected in this transcript.

Dr. Amberly: Hello, 327.Dr. Amberly: Very well. We were talking about the song yesterday: Could you tell me more?Dr. Amberly: And what happened to the song?Dr. Amberly: The boat, then.

« SCP-326 | SCP-327 | SCP-328 »


Item #: SCP-328
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-328 is to be kept in a secure locker in storage area 328-A. Access for research requires Level 3 authorisation and will be permitted in most instances. Due to its unclear nature, SCP-328 is not to be allowed into contact with any data-reading device with a connection to the internet or the Foundation intranet. Electronic devices which have been used to study SCP-328 should be clearly labeled "SCP-328 Use Only" and stored in storage area 328-A for common use in case of unidentified viral properties. A small isolated lab adjunct to storage area 328-A (designated 328-B) has been established to this end.
Description: SCP-328 is a smooth, greenish-yellow disc approximately ten (10) cm in diameter and 4 mm thick, weighing just over thirteen (13) grams, composed of an unknown crystalline organic compound. The bonding pattern of SCP-328 is highly organised, in a manner reminiscent of a data storage or retrieval device. SCP-328-01 (see below), a data file retrieved from SCP-328, seems to confirm this.
Various analyses of samples of SCP-328 have been inconclusive; some known atomic elements have been identified, but none in recognised compositional patterns, and not enough to account for the mass of the samples used. It is slightly warmer (about 4 degrees Celsius) than its surrounding environment, even when subjected to extreme temperatures. It is susceptible to kinetic damage, but if broken, reforms itself from its largest remaining piece over a period of one week to six months, depending on the severity of damage. Crystallographic analysis of fragments indicates they possess a restructured crystalline form, a scaled-down version of the whole item's structure. As the disc regrows the structure re-expands and returns to its original form. No changes have been observed in binary data obtained from the disc-reader (see below) before and after breakage/reformation.
SCP-328 has been in the possession of the Foundation since ██-██-18██, when it was recovered from [DATA EXPUNGED]. Until ██-██-19██, the purpose and nature of SCP-328 was uncertain. In an accidental breakthrough, SCP-328 was inserted into an experimental disc drive that had been treated with [REDACTED] as part of the [REDACTED] project (see Addendum 328-1). SCP-328, when used with this reader, produces binary data.
Multiple cryptographic analyses of the binary code produced indicate that at least some of it is a description of data contained on SCP-328. An algorithm for converting the binary into ASCII code has been developed, and the current extent of translation is appended as SCP-328-01. Veracity of this data is uncertain, but given the coherence of the data produced it seems unlikely it is a random 'fluke'. Curiously, the data obtained is written in over thirty (30) known languages (transliterated into Roman characters) in what appears to be a single article.
Further attempts to directly access and translate the data on SCP-328 have proven labour-intensive, and full funding for the project has been pulled. Dr. E██████ has announced that anyone with relevant skills (cryptography, data storage/recovery, or linguistics in particular) is welcome to take up translation of SCP-328 as a "hobby item".
Addendum 328-1: As Project [REDACTED], which produced the original SCP-328 data reader, has been canceled for over a decade, Dr. E██████ has lodged a formal request for O5 clearance to remove the redaction, allowing anyone working on SCP-328 to consider this information. Permission is pending.

SCP-328-01:

This comprises the main body of the documents translated from SCP-328. Much of the actual log consists of random ASCII characters, which may be untranslatable text, untranslated text, or may correspond to some other type of information. All data has been translated into English for ease-of-comprehension. The original, untranslated log with complete additional text is stored at SCP-328-01-OR disc in storage area 328-A.

[TRANSLATED DATA BEGINS]is approximately 4 units in width, 6 units in length, and 0.4 units high when sitting on a flat surface. Its external surface is essentially featureless aside from unrecognised markings on several surfaces, and several narrow slots along the two shorter edges. It tastes of sodium chloride, present in trace (non-toxic) quantities on its surface, and of carbon-based oils and polymers of unidentified composition. ¿^Ô–^wographic analysis of the residues present on the surface and of the material of which the device is comprised indicate it contains several elements unknown to our science. When inactive it radiates very little energy; its surrounding Ø°é–%¬ is flavourless, aside from a hint of #ÕRó×ßo.
Three indentations along the edge release electromagnetic radiation in a rhythmic pulse. Upon depression of a smooth, flavourless (ie. possessing only the same base flavour as the object) surface on the same edge as the radiators, the top half of the device comes loose, revealing itself to be hinged along the opposite surface. Inside is what appears to be a control console, with 104 nearly-identical depressable surfaces, most of a uniform size. Researcher F÷qèCQœòlDôY‡9‰ has described them as
[SEQUENCE OF UNTRANSLATED DATA]
for each of the ýÄðz'5šøš í^úb†×t inside its outer é^WP/ÿª—×çgÖ, but underneath it is a „ž4ß¤Á¨äÒž|™
[SEQUENCE OF UNTRANSLATED DATA]
when a small oblong surface is pressed, the translucent surface above the primary interface almost immediately begins emitting class /®Î¼ radiation, which claimed the Nø_=jÌÿ of four researchers before adequate shielding could be devised (see Handling Protocols, above).
Operation: Trial and error has revealed that depressing certain combinations of the surfaces on the control console will cause changes in the spectrum of radiation emitted by the device. Although the nature of these changes has yet to be determined, the patterns are consistent. Additionally, the device does not emit identical radiation from every surface. It appears to have over one million nearly identical micro-emitters arranged in a gridlike pattern across its surface; each one is capable of emitting variable radiation frequencies. When catalogued and mapped, the different frequencies of radiation form patterns and symbols which at least partially correspond to the symbols mapped onto the control console.
[LONG SEQUENCE OF UNTRANSLATED DATA]
power source was identified by Researcher F÷qèCQœòlDôY‡9‰. By activating two sliding panels previously unnoticed on the "under"side of the control console, a roughly cylindrical portion hidden beneath the hinge could be removed. While externally undifferentiatable from the main portion of the device, this segment is somewhat denser. After its removal, the device would not activate. It has been advised that the device should be stored in this format from this point on. Against Researcher F÷qèCQœòlDôY‡9‰'s advice, Subresearcher s÷#ÕRop›¥Á, out of curiosity, manipulated what is believed to be a connection socket on the putative power supply. A WP/ÿª—×ç was observed to emit involuntarily from Subresearcher s÷#ÕRop›¥Á, followed by [DATA EXPUNGED]1. Although this is a feasible (if unsavoury) method for recharging the device, should its power supply fail, it is recommended that valuable subresearchers not be used in this manner in the future.
Addendum Ù6æŒÌº 1.01: Researcher F÷qèCQœòlDôY‡9‰ has been committed to safety storage ©pdhÈ× for reconditioning after activating a memetic weapon on the device. Simultaneous depression of the two control surfaces labeled ÑÇOòD and **qe activated a heretofore unidentified capacity on the device. •æÝÞëÊYgíu9-type electromagnetic radiation was emitted in a frequency-fluctuating pattern of moderate to long wavelength. This interfered directly with Researcher F÷qèCQœòlDôY‡9‰'s ™ÀìTÛk‹º#ù8p, as has previously been documented in logs of device Õtê¿~L¶QÀ‡. Researcher F÷qèCQœòlDôY‡9‰ was recorded as spewing gibberish about seeking a "connection", and something about a "web". Further exposure to the device is ill-advised at this time.
Observation from Queen-Researcher Õï±éúšÓÁÚáGUi6: It seems certain that this is another memetoenergetic weapon developed by Agency F²N„«ã. In light of this, the Research Council should consider releasing another ×¤Jý through the[NO FURTHER TRANSLATED INFORMATION]

Footnotes
1. Foundation Research Note: this "DATA EXPUNGED" tag is the closest translation of the original Swahili phrase in SCP-328-01-OR; it has not been added by the Foundation.

« SCP-327 | SCP-328 | SCP-329 »


Item #: SCP-329
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: The building in which SCP-329 is located has been purchased by a Foundation front company and designated Site ██. Access to the site is restricted to Level 3 personnel. Facility personnel to undergo full-body scans at least every 48 hours.
Since it is unknown how many adherents the "Church of the Gardener" possessed, Site ██ should be considered at risk of recapture and appropriate measures taken.
Description: SCP-329 is a room in a derelict building at ██████████████, █████████. Room is in the building's cellar, 6m x 5m, with a steel fire door. Room contains six folding beds. Beds are fitted with IV stands and leather restraints.
Five beds are occupied. Occupants are of both standard sexes and several races, with ages 16-64. Occupants have been designated SCP-329-01 through SCP-329-05 and have been identified as:
01 - █████████████████, no fixed address
02 - █████████████, no fixed address
03 - ████████████████████, former medical student at █████████████████ University
04 - █████████████████, no fixed address
05 - ██████████████, D-class personnel who was subjected to Event 329-A
Occupants of beds all have cancer. Type of cancer varies from occupant to occupant but all cases have at least three tumors of grade T3N1M0 or higher.
Although cancers are advanced, they do not follow normal progression. Two of the cases, with a prognosis of weeks at best under normal conditions, have remained alive since at least ██████████. Occupants are alert but in great pain and unable to speak.
Every 24 hours, at approximately 4 am, SCP-329 undergoes Event 329-A. The door closes with great force and cannot be reopened for the duration of the Event. Anything obstructing the doorway is pulled into the room. Event 329-A lasts for approximately 20 minutes, after which it is possible to open the door again.
Equipment for remote observation and recording is rendered inert during 329-A in a manner consistent with a nonstandard space-time event. The only sounds heard from outside during 329-A are screaming from the room's occupants.
After the event, occupants are apparently unharmed, bearing no incisions or external trauma. Their tumors, however, have been altered, in some cases radically. They have been reshaped and their direction of growth has been altered. Three of the occupants have tumors of more than twenty feet in length, twining around and through bones and organs. SCP-329-05, who was cancer-free before he was exposed to Event 329-A, was found after the event to have developed a T1N0M0 lung cancer, which in the three weeks since has grown to T3.
Only people inside the room are affected by 329-A. In those who have been removed from the room, their cancer progresses normally, resulting in death.
Discovery: SCP-329 was discovered by a group of █████████████████ University medical students who noticed abnormal cancers in the bodies of indigents supplied for dissection. They traced the source to SCP-329, which was being used as a squat. They came to the Foundation's attention through material they circulated on the Internet under the name of the "Church of the Gardener" (see Document 329-1).
When a Mobile Task Force secured SCP-329 the "Church" had been operating for eleven months, luring indigents to the building with promises of drugs and shelter and subjecting them to Event 329-A.
Seven members of the "Church" were present and offered armed resistance. Five were eliminated by the MTF and the other two held out long enough to subject themselves to Event 329-A. One was subsequently vivisected by the research team and the other designated SCP-329-03. The "Church"'s records were retrieved; they begin as relatively straightforward medical case notes but degenerate over time into a religious screed.
Addendum: Document 329-1
(partial transcript of video found at http://www.youtube.com/███████████████████)
"Your body is an Eden after the fall, ruled by the tyranny of the grey devil in your skull. Your bodies are like your grey lifeless cities, every cell marching in lockstep, any deviation punished. Any growth, anything alive and green met with "cut it out, burn it out, poison it". Endlosung. And the budding cancer is destroyed, or else it fights back, it brings down your body like Samson does the temple of Dagon …
"Now It is come to cure us. Each day It plants, It prunes and It trains, It makes the grey city a Garden again. And it will take root. It will bear fruit and it will spread across the world …"

« SCP-328 | SCP-329 | SCP-330 »


Item #: SCP-330
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Considering recent incidents, SCP-330 is to be kept in secure storage until further notice. Level 2 Clearance is required for access to SCP-330 or its contents. All direct experimentation of SCP-330 is to be conducted using Class D personnel with no genetic history of diabetes. No more than two (2) samples are to be removed from SCP-330 at any time, except during exposure testing.
Description: SCP-330 appears to be a small round stainless steel bowl filled with a variable amount of individually wrapped pieces of candy. Taped to the side of the bowl is a handwritten note, reading “take no more than two, please!!” Attempts to remove the note have met with failure, as have attempts to hide or obscure it. Testers have noted finding it impossible to avoid reading the note, and those who approach it from an opposite angle are aware of this request.
When a quantity of candy greater than two pieces is removed, regardless of the means involved, the offender instantly has both hands severed at the wrists by an unknown method. Tests involving remote manipulation by Class D personnel resulted in the operator's hands being removed despite no direct contact. Inspection of the incision reveals that the cut is made at a molecular level, leaving no tool marks or identifying factors. It is to be noted that the third piece must be removed within a certain timeframe. After 24 hours, the count “resets”, and additional candy can be removed.
Discovered 3 days after Halloween of 20██, when a police investigation into what was believed to be a case of ritualistic dismemberment was launched. SCP-330 was seized as evidence, but all attending officers were killed after Officer ██████ emptied the bowl of its contents. The cause of death was a result of [DATA EXPUNGED]. Foundation Agents, under the guise of federal agents, recovered the object with acceptable casualties.
Addendum: Due to continuing security issues, SCP-330 will be held in Dr. Kondraki's office when not required for testing.
Experiment:
Name: Researcher Voct
Date: ██/██/20██
Subject D-330-01, a double amputee equipped with prosthetic forearms and hands, was told to remove three pieces of candy from the bowl. Subject complied, with no immediate effects. However, within 45 seconds, subject reported a burning itch from both his arm stumps (right arm: 2 cm below elbow; left arm: 1.5 cm below elbow), and phantom pains from both his absent wrists. Subject's distress at this discomfort increased rapidly; within 180 seconds of having removed the third candy from the bowl, the subject began forcibly removing both his own prostheses. Upon hurling the prostheses to the ground, subject reported that the discomfort had ceased.
Dermatological examination of subject's stumps revealed no unusual irritation or inflammation; mechanical examination of subject's prostheses revealed that, in addition to the physical damage sustained by being hurled to the ground, the prostheses had [DATA EXPUNGED].
Subject was supplied with fresh prostheses, identical to the first pair, but reported feeling that it was "wrong" to put them on. Coercion was applied, and subject reluctantly put on left prosthesis (note: subject is right-handed). However, when told to put on right prosthesis, subject began weeping incoherently and flailing his arms until the left prosthesis detached itself. Analysis of video footage revealed that subject had not properly attached the left prosthesis to his stump; mechanical examination of left prosthesis revealed only physical damage sustained from being thrown across the room.
Twenty-four hours later, subject was given fresh prostheses, and reported no difficulty in putting them on. Subject not terminated, as D-class amputees who are already used to their prostheses are in short supply.

« SCP-329 | SCP-330 | SCP-331 »


Item #: SCP-331
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: When not being used, SCP-331 is to be kept within a typical electronic 7-digit metal safe in Dr. ███████'s office. The code is to be changed on a monthly basis by Dr. ███████. Personnel who wish to examine SCP-331 must ask Dr. ███████ for authorization beforehand.
As of ██/██/██ SCP-331 is worn by SCP-331-1.
Description: SCP-331 is a red plastic cat collar, approximately 23 cm in length. Metal studs surround the collar in intervals of 1 cm; testing has confirmed the metal to be nickel. The bell consists of stainless steel electroplated with 24-carat gold. Ringing the bell has no distinguishable effect, adverse or otherwise. The word “Tumbles” has been painted on the back of the collar in yellow paint; testing has confirmed that there is nothing unusual about the paint.
SCP-331 exhibits no abnormal tendencies when worn by a living cat. When SCP-331 is fastened round the neck of a deceased cat (hereafter SCP-331-1), SCP-331-1 is resurrected with no initial adverse effects. The collar does not halt the decomposition process, however; fur and skin still rot at a regular pace. Organs are unaffected by the decomposition process; testing has yet to determine the exact cause for this. SCP-331-1 shows no signs of distress during the decomposition process. SCP-331-1 can be killed by conventional methods, whereupon it remains deceased. The separation of SCP-331 and SCP-331-1 [DATA EXPUNGED] unless SCP-331-1 is deceased. It should be noted that SCP-331-1 always answers to ‘Tumbles' and has an amiable personality, despite what it was called or how it behaved pre-mortem.
SCP-331 was discovered when reports reached Agent █████ of a ‘zombie cat' witnessed around ███████ Park in █████████, ██. Agent █████ immediately alerted the Foundation of a possible outbreak of SCP-008; MTF-██ was dispatched and neutralized SCP-331-1, whereupon it was transported to Site ██ after no trace of SCP-008 was detected. Upon arrival research was conducted on SCP-331 that confirmed its properties.

« SCP-330 | SCP-331 | SCP-332 »


by stormbreath

Photograph of SCP-332 prior to gaining anomalous properties.

Item #: SCP-332
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: Kirk Lonwood High School has been declared condemned. SCP-332 therefore requires no containment (other than a standard security patrol) between January and August. Between the months of September and December, SCP-332 is to be accompanied at all times by an armed escort, who are to play ambient noise recordings at high volumes next to SCP-332. Ambient noise is to be plausible for the surroundings; typical soundscapes include construction, weather, or traffic.
Description: SCP-332 is the Kirk Lonwood High School Marching Band of the Fall 1975 season. The band is composed of thirty members, which are designated as SCP-332-1 through SCP-332-30. All members of SCP-332 were formerly enrolled as seniors at Kirk Lonwood High School, and expected to graduate in Spring 1976. All uniforms and instruments of SCP-332 instances are labelled as belonging to "Syncope Symphony."
The majority of the time, SCP-332 instances are stationary inside of the Kirk Lonwood High School band room. During these periods, they are positioned as if they are holding an animated discussion. No Foundation efforts have been successful in provoking any kind of reaction from a stationary instance, and they do not seem to have any functioning biological systems. No damage, wear, or movement has successfully been imposed upon SCP-332.
SCP-332 activates according to the Kirk Lonwood High School home game football schedule. This entails an activation at roughly 7:00 PM local time on one or two days per week1 between the months of September and December. During this time, SCP-332 will resume their conversation. After thirty minutes, they will proceed to the field and perform. They will then stand below the bleachers, wait and then perform again one hour later. After this, they will head back to the band room, and begin their conversation from earlier, freezing in the middle.
SCP-332 was initially discovered on December 12th, 1975, shortly following the last scheduled marching band performance of the season. According to witness reports, SCP-332 took the field during the final game of the season and performed as initially intended. While the songs played were not as initially scheduled, they were not so abnormal as to draw particular notice — all had been previously played by SCP-332 during the preceding four months.
However, following the end of the game, it was discovered that the thirty members of SCP-332 were missing. Rather than having changed out of their uniforms and reconnected with friends and family at the game as expected, SCP-332 had seemingly vanished. They were found forty-five minutes after the end of the game, unmoving and not responding to stimuli in the Kirk Lonwood music room. This caused widespread and publicized panic, which in turn alerted the Foundation to possible anomalous activity.
In the process of fabricating a cover story (further complicated by the discovery of additional anomalies associated with Kirk Lonwood High School), Foundation investigators discovered that most members of SCP-332 had expressed anxieties or concerns about the future. No instances expressed optimism towards the future. The individuals not known to have expressed concerns were those for whom the Foundation was unable to form a psychological profile for of any kind — it is assumed they had such fears, but did not express them to others.
Three excerpts of psychological profiles have been included below, to give a better depiction of the mental state of SCP-332. These have been chosen for their clarity, direct discussion of relevant ideas, and diversity of type.

Interview between Operative Blackwire of Mobile Task Force Zeta-2 and Diedre McKenzie - an art teacher at Kirk Lonwood High School - concerning a student of hers, Sadie Freeman (SCP-332-4).

Blackwire: Thank ye for taking the time to speak with me — I know you're up to your ears in federal agents these days. But I just wanted to ask you a few questions about one uh, Sadie Freeman? She would have been in your second period painting class.
McKenzie: Oh, yes. Sadie was one of my best students here. It's a shame what happened to her.
Blackwire: Oh, I'm sorry to remind you of that, ma'am. I'm actually here to talk about some of her class history with you, and what that was like.
McKenzie: Of course. You needed to speak with me specifically for some reason.
Blackwire: She loved your class, didn't she?
McKenzie: Adored it.
Blackwire: She ever talk about the future? About art and your class, I mean.
McKenzie: All the time. She always told me that she wished she could use her skills here in life, but she was going to school as a Business Major. That was what her parents wanted for her, and I guess she didn't have much say in it.
Blackwire: She knew where she was going already?
McKenzie: Oh, no. But all the schools she had applied to were for Business, not art. Wharton, not RISD. Father's decision.
Blackwire: That's quite unfortunate. But she wanted to pursue art as a career path?
McKenzie: I don't know if calling it "as a career path" is the right idea… She wanted to do art as … how did she put it … "forever"? Or maybe sometimes it was "I wish I never had to do anything else."
Blackwire: Which a reasonable person might mean as a job…
McKenzie: But I always just got the sense she was day-dreaming.
Blackwire: Which doesn't require you to be 'reasonable', per se.
McKenzie: Right.
Blackwire: So we've got a girl who really wants to make art, and never do anything else. Not even, apparently, a job — since she didn't want to be a Business major.
McKenzie: Well, keep in mind she was a teenager. Only 17!
Blackwire: Right, fair, fair… Say, did she specify the kind of art all that often?
McKenzie: No… I don't think she did? She clearly had ambitions outside of painting in my class. She really loved marching band, too — always talked about that, always in the same breath as my class.
Blackwire: So she'd be just as happy playing a tune forever as she would be painting forever?
McKenzie: Yes, I'd think that's right!
Blackwire: Interesting.
McKenzie: Wait, isn't that…? I just… that can't be real, is it? But then where else would she be…
Blackwire: Keep taking your pills, ma'am. These ones marked with the "G".
Blackwire: G stands for good, right?
Blackwire: I'll get out of your hair now.

Group discussion led by Operative Blackwire and three surviving students of Kirk Lonwood High School, concerning Steven Farago (SCP-332-10), a tubaist. Conversation conducted while survivors were playing basketball in Johnny Gillespie's driveway.

Blackwire: Hey! I'm going to need to take a moment of your time, you three.
Donaldson: How come?
Blackwire: You know this kid?
Gillespie: Uh, yeah? So what.
Blackwire: We're investigating him. Need to know what he was up to. What he was thinking in the moments before things went off.
Donaldson: You don't think he had anything to do with it?
Blackwire: Want to help rule him out?
Gillespie: Sure. Hit us.
Nafpliotis: He was really unsure about what college he wanted to go to. He'd submitted all his applications, but was expecting them all to be acceptances.
Gillespie: My man was smart.
Blackwire: He was sure they'd all be acceptances?
Nafpliotis: Enough.
Donaldson: He'd have options.
Blackwire: But he didn't have a ranked list of favorites?
Nafpliotis: According to him, they all had extreme ups and downs and he weighed those ups and downs different on any given day.
Blackwire: Like what?
Donaldson: This school is too close. This one too expensive. This one doesn't have the majors and minors he needs. Better job opportunities over there, better social life over here.
Blackwire: Interesting. Interesting. And how did he feel about the present?
Nafpliotis: He was happy where he was. On track to be valedictorian, student body class officer, great girlfriend. Everything.
Gillespie: If we're really honest, he was kinda lining himself up to be a "peaked in high school" type of guy.
Blackwire: Right. I'm familiar with the type.
Nafpliotis: I'm sure you are, old timer.
Blackwire: Alright. Did the marching band play into things at all? He was happy with his position there?
Gillespie: Oh yeah. Never shut up about it.
Blackwire: He planning to do it beyond the end of the season?
Donaldson: He'd join the band in college. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing… that was always in the cards. He'd be in the marching band.
Gillespie: If he had it his way, until the day he died.
Blackwire: Informative. Now, I'm sorry to have been a pain, but this is really helpful. You boys have a nice day. I'm sure I'll see you around again, if I have any follow-up questions.

Final entry of a journal recovered from the house of Nathan Blastin (SCP-332-30), a member of the percussion section of SCP-332. Based on contextual clues, the following journal entry was written on December 10th, 1975.

i cant do it i cant let myself wither and let the rot into my bones and into my heart it can't know me in that way i won't let it happen rot is close closer every day creeping and creeping around every corner almost here
nothing worse in the world
nev1er2 grow3 old4 er5
or1 cha2nge3 in4to5 some6thing7 worse
 fuck
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO no NO NO NO NO NO. NO NO NO N0 NO NONO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO N O NO NO NO! NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NONO NO NO NO NO NO NO NONO NO NO NO NO NO? NO NO NO NO NOO NO NO NONO NO NO NO NOO NO NO NO NO NO NO N
I'm drowning out here and nobody cares. I need to change. I can't change. I'll never change. I don't want to change. I want to be who I am. I can't be anything other than what I am and that scares excites me I can't wait. Forever and ever and eve

Dream last night of us playing in the marching band and
the fog was there and
the world was quiet and
I can't remember anything else

syncope — A temporary loss of blood to an organ. Often used with reference to the brain, in which case it presents as fainting, and used as a metonymy for the state of falling unconscious.
I think I'd rather die than grow old.

Footnotes
1. Weeks with a single activation indicate that an "away game" would be played by the Kirk Lonwood football team.

NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
The above file is an archived copy of SCP-332 documentation dating to 2012.
Click here to view the most recent version.

« SCP-331 | SCP-332 | SCP-333 »


Item #: SCP-333
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-333-A 1-1618 are to be stored in a standard Secure Containment Locker within Site-██, accessible only by personnel possessing Level 3 Clearance or greater with authorization of at least two (2) Clearance Level 4 personnel. As testing with SCP-333-B and SCP-333-C has concluded, any performance of SCP-333-A is strictly prohibited.
Description: SCP-333-A are 1,618 identical copies of a musical score of unknown title and origin. When the score denoted by SCP-333-A is performed by an orchestra of sufficient size, (see Addendum 333-1) SCP-333-B manifests. The chamber SCP-333-A is performed in may be entered normally; however, roughly three minutes into a performance, anything leaving the chamber arrives in SCP-333-B. Reentry of the performance hall from SCP-333-B is possible, given it is temporarily integrated into SCP-333-B.
SCP-333-B appears to be a metropolitan area, devoid of any signs of habitation, past or present. Due to its nature, it is unknown when SCP-333-B was constructed, using what materials, by whom, or even if it was constructed in the conventional sense at all (see Addendum 333-4). For as long as performance of SCP-333-A continues, SCP-333-B may be traversed freely. Preliminary testing concerning utilizing SCP-333-B as a multipurpose Foundation facility appears promising (see Addendum 333-5). (see Addenda 333-6 and 333-9) Following cessation of a performance, SCP-333-B dematerializes, along with anything within at the time (see Addendum 333-2). Instrumentation left within suggests that unless a performance of SCP-333-A is occurring, SCP-333-B experiences no passage of time and may not exist at all.
SCP-333-C is a highly aggressive entity of variable appearance and composition residing within SCP-333-B. All manifestations of SCP-333-C have proven much more durable than its composition would suggest, requiring considerable firepower to terminate outside of SCP-333-B and possessing apparent invincibility while within (see Addendum 333-8). Should SCP-333-C manage to escape SCP-333-B, it will remain until the next time SCP-333-B manifests unless terminated; following termination, SCP-333-C will dematerialize as well.
Addendum 333-1: SCP-333-B will not fully manifest unless SCP-333-A is performed by a minimum of forty-nine (49) musicians within a single concert hall. Larger numbers of musicians appear to correlate to a larger and more complex metropolitan area. Additionally, simultaneous performances in differing locales result in integration of all concert halls within which SCP-333-A is being performed. SCP-333-B could hypothetically serve as a means of rapid transit between Foundation facilities.
Addendum 333-2: The content of all 1,618 original instances of SCP-333-A have been observed to change following each performance. All remain identical to each other. Copies of SCP-333-A do not display this polymorphic nature.
Addendum 333-3: Changes undergone by SCP-333-A appear to constitute the inclusion of motifs representing any foreign materials left behind by exploration teams. Given that copies of original SCP-333-A do not update to reflect material within SCP-333-B, it may be possible to selectively manifest materials and possibly even personnel within SCP-333-B. A more in-depth cost-benefit analysis will follow.
Addendum 333-4: Visual, chemical, and mass spectrometric examination of structures within SCP-333-B indicates their composition is directly dependent upon the composition of instrumentation utilized for the corresponding performance of SCP-333-A. Additionally, it appears that the better a particular instrument is played, the less its composition is reflected within SCP-333-B. Given that structures within SCP-333-B are always of similar composition to the instruments utilized, it has been suggested that these structures may not have a finite composition. However, considering errors cause the composition of a particular instrument to feature more prominently, it is also possible that corruption of SCP-333-B is unavoidable due to general inability to perform SCP-333-A precisely enough.
Experiment Logs SCP-333-A-B 1-9 are pending declassification.
Addendum 333-5: Cost-benefit analysis RE: SCP-333 as a Foundation asset.

Rapid long-distance transit.

If used for transit between facilities, SCP-333-B could allow for rapid dissemination of SCP objects in the event of a containment breach. This risk should not be taken lightly.

Cloning of personnel, items, SCP objects, etc, effectively granting the Foundation access to infinite resources.
A contingency plan in case of ██, ██, or ██ Class events.

Personnel critical to the operation of the Foundation, a cache of useful SCP objects, and a store of various provisions and resources could be left within SCP-333-B. This would ensure their survival, provided performance of a suitable copy of SCP-333-A may take place.

A garrison and armory.
The song itself could be utilized as several different Foundation facilities simultaneously.

Particularly dangerous Euclid and Keter objects could each be deposited in their own instance of SCP-333-B.

If SCP-333-A is performed as it was prior to an SCP object being deposited, SCP-333-B will manifest without the SCP.
If SCP-333-A is performed as it is following an SCP object being deposited, SCP-333-B will manifest with the SCP present.

Performances of identical copies of SCP-333-A could take place in several locations, allowing access to the prospective facility from several places.

A kill switch to sever SCP-333-B from any adjoining facilities is strongly advised.

The risk of accidental discovery of the SCP-333-A should be carefully considered before any utilization of the SCP-333-B for these purposes takes place.
Consult Addendum 333-9.
Addendum 333-6: SCP-333-C is capable of leaving SCP-333-B. Any sighting of SCP-333-C within SCP-333-B is grounds for immediate evacuation and cessation of SCP-333-A performance.
Addendum 333-7: Composition of SCP-333-C appears linked to musical instruments utilized in similar fashion to 333-B. Closer scrutiny of footage recorded during Experiments SCP-333-A-B 1, 2, 3, 5, and 8 has found SCP-333-C present, appearing to be of similar composition to each corresponding instance of SCP-333-B, making it difficult to distinguish from its surroundings. This likely explains why its presence initially went unnoticed.
Addendum 333-8: Operation ██████████ unsuccessful. Operational losses exceed 90%. A five (5) megaton tactical nuclear device was detonated within SCP-333-B in a last-ditch attempt to prevent SCP-333-C escaping. SCP-333-C was undeterred.
Addendum 333-9: Corruption of materials left within 333-B has been noted. This corruption generally takes the form of minuscule changes in chemical composition of objects left within, though in extreme cases physical deformation has been observed. Notable examples include malfunction of RoV-13b due to critical circuitry being displaced by [REDACTED] and the discovery of D-17711's skeletal system being composed of 0.1% brass by weight. I hereby rescind my prior recommendations for utilization of SCP-333. - Dr. N██████
Addendum 333-10: Computer-aided analysis of SCP-333-A and all copies thereof, considered alongside the events of Experiments SCP-333-A-B 1-9 and Operation ██████████ indicates beyond a shadow of a doubt that SCP-333-A dictates any and all occurrences within SCP-333-B, including activity of Foundation personnel and SCP-333-C. All further testing of SCP-333 is hereby suspended indefinitely.

« SCP-332 | SCP-333 | SCP-334 »