The following article is a part of the And Every Time We Meet Again storyline. Whilst you can read it on its own, it's highly recommended you read the previous installments to get this article in its fullest.
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F.A.Q.

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ACCESSING FILE — SCP-5890…

RETINAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

IDENTITY CONFIRMED. WELCOME, DOCTOR MACCARTHY JUNIOR.

Item#: 5890

Level3

Containment Class:
keter

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
keneq

Risk Class:
danger

link to memo

SCP-5890 as seen prior to the fall of 1984.

Special Containment Procedures
The knowledge of the 1984-FALL Incident is to be limited to Foundation personnel of Clearance Level 3 or higher — all other individuals, including the entirety of the population of the Eastern regions of Poland, are to be administered amnestics.

SCP-5890 has been permanently quarantined and cut off from all non-Foundation knowledge databases. No entry is currently allowed. All Foundation personnel seen emerging from SCP-5890 are to be terminated on sight.

Any exploration team sent into SCP-5890 is to account for its members every 3 minutes. Should a number not corresponding to the previous one be accounted for, the team is to immediately leave and undergo a quarantine procedure. Further details are available to Level 4 Clearance personnel.

All SCP-5890-1 entities are to be tracked down and eliminated, with the base of this operation being Site-120. Their containment is currently forbidden.

Białystok, Poland.

Description
SCP-5890 is a spatial anomaly disguised as the Białystok Nuclear Power Plant located within Białystok, Poland. Local reality within the building is dimensionally and temporarily unstable to a high degree, frequently fluctuating between numerous alternative states of matter, dimensional locations, and timeframes, with no part of it being properly anchored within baseline reality. Within the building, multiple non-euclidean spaces can be found, with their properties, dimensions, and locations changing on a usual basis. Although no apparent pattern of these irregularities has been noted, they appear to be reliant on the individuals currently present in the building, creating such spaces seemingly out of distorted memories of these individuals.

SCP-5890-1 is a designation given to an unknown amount of humanoid entities. The exact nature and appearance of such is not truly known due to the nature of their origin point, SCP-5890, though live reports of witnesses of the 1984-FALL Incident indicate that the humanoids:

possess shapeshifting abilities,
lack higher intelligence,
do not possess an understanding of human grammar or speech patterns,
are unable to properly analyze their surroundings.

System Notice — the following file is incomplete and contains incomplete information. The remainder of the description and said information is Level 4/5890 Classified.

> access description-full

ERROR — INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE

Discovery
Foundation involvement with SCP-58901 began on 13/06/1984 following the discovery of plans of unknown thaumaturgic actions within the Nuclear Power Plant of Białystok created by PoI-5936 ("Damien Nowak"), an alleged leader of a cult practicing thaumaturgy, The Children within Częstochowa's Local Authorities' Files.
Further research regarding PoI-5936 conducted by Foundation personnel embedded within Częstochowa's local authorities revealed that numerous papers and documents documenting Nowak's previous actions were created by local authorities. The latest one is attached below2.

► ACCESS SCP:/5890/attached-documents/1

▼ Close File

It has come to my attention, more and more, the extent to which the abnormal and the ununderstood surround our world. At the rate of discovery my Bureau currently holds of new artifacts and phenomena, in merely two decades time, it seems like without a larger organization to take the anomalous into its custody, we would need to permanently break the Veil of Secrecy holding our association of nations together. Obviously, I, as most likely anyone higher within the ranks of our organization, know about GRU-P — but I surely am not the only one who thinks that it is just too little for how giant the world of the ununderstood is.
During our latest studies, we have discovered one of the probably most worrying discoveries so far - calculations and context clues I am one hundred percent sure are indeed true lead me to believe that religion and all sorts of spiritual activities are not merely actions of fools lying to themselves about the nature of existence. In fact, they are far from it — we have been able to discover that rituals can literally affect the world at large, with instant fears of the State's enemies using such for our demise being expressed by my higher-ups.
Upon calming all of my co-workers down that no such evidence exists, we have realized that with this utterly terrifying discovery, our biggest opportunity so far arises — channeled and controlled rituals. Of course, one could argue it's against our code of ethics, but here, I ask — did that stop us before? Did that stop us in the summer of 1970? Did it stop us during the winters of 1947? The answer should be pretty obvious to those even remotely possessing the knowledge of the State's history. It will not. Thus, I would like to propose a deal of sorts to be arranged.
Damien Nowak, the infamous at this point enemy of the State and an enemy of the people, has been a burden for a long time now to all of us, regardless of our positions and rankings. However, I do believe that the same could be said in reverse. Our searches for him have not been making his life the most peaceful either. With this in mind, we could, theoretically speaking, use Mr. Nowak for our cause — simply offering mere forgetfulness of his previous deeds, with his side of the deal being teaching us and our Students the art of thaumaturgy and applied rituals.
This, of course, should not be treated as my official statement on the matter (should, obviously, the project ever come to see the light of day, all engagement is to be immediately forwarded to the anti-Party regions of the Church), and is as naive as it may sound, I would like all of you, kind gentlemen, to consider my words.

— Włodzimierz Jurczak, ZM "Witch Slayer" Division, Director

Following this discovery being made, and the additional connections between Nowak and multiple other anomalous activities within the region being established, stopping said person's planned actions within LoI-5890 has been deemed the utmost priority for Site-120's personnel. In order to properly contradict PoI-5936's plans, Foundation agents have been embedded within LoI-5890 in order to alert proper staff when the aforementioned event would inevitably take place for Site-120's Thaumaturgic Division to properly intervene.
In order however to potentially postpone or permanently stop the event from happening, Dr. Asheworth alongside Dr. MacCarthy Jr. were tasked with interviewing one of the members of LoI-5890's administrative structures, who was captured prior to the interview taking place.
When the involvement of Nowak was confirmed by said interview, specialistic equipment detecting any thaumaturgic activity within the region was deployed at LoI-5890. Three days later minor thaumaturgic distortions, increasing in size on an hourly basis have been detected within the location.
Within the next hours, Dr. Asheworth's account was logged attempting to access multiple files potentially regarding Nowak without proper clearance, for which he was adequately reprimanded. Although this incident did not repeat again, he expressed high interest in being a part of any further actions involving PoI-5936. Due to his prior effectiveness in actions involving thaumaturgic backgrounds, such a request was granted.

1984-FALL Incident
Upon the realization that Nowak's ritualistic plans were in the process of being implemented, the Foundation deployed Mobile Task Force Omega-10 ("The Watchmen")3 alongside the two project leads of SCP-5890, Dr. Asheworth and Dr. MacCarthy Jr. The following files are recordings retrieved from Dr. Asheworth's camera.

► ACCESS SCP:/5890/exploration-logs/local-time/03/08/1984

▼ Close File

Date: 03/08/1984
Exploration Team: Mobile Task Force Omega-10, Dr. Asheworth, Dr. MacCarthy Jr.
Subject: SCP-5890
Team Lead: Dr. Asheworth
Team Members: Dr. MacCarthy Jr., Om-10-1, Om-10-2, Om-10-3
Foreword: Due to Dr. Asheworth exhibiting signs of level 2 spatial and thaumaturgical resistance, he has been elected as the team's captain. The following exploration has been conducted during the start of SCP-5890's anomalous condition — all of such disruptions were, at that time, minor.

[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Asheworth: And… this should be on. Everyone, check your equipment.
Om-10-1: Check.
Om-10-2: Check.
Om-10-3: Check.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Check makes four.
Dr. Asheworth: Great. As I said, when we enter that hall, minor spatial disruptions will occur. I hope I don't need to say that, but do not follow any voices, feelings, or anything else that isn't my command. Understood?
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Yes.
Om-10-1: Yeah.
Om-10-3: Yes.
Om-10-2: Yes.
Dr. Asheworth: Great. Let's begin then.
The exploration team enters SCP-5890's underground parking. Within it, no vehicles are present. After a scan of the area reveals a lack of lifeforms, the team head to the staircase.
Om-10-1: Closed. Will be attempting forced entry.
After a minute of trying, the team's attempts to force open the door have met with failure, and they cannot access the staircase.
Om-10-1: Won't do.
Dr. Asheworth proceeds to make his way to the doors and puts his hand at them for 30 seconds.
Dr. Asheworth: And it never will. It's thaumaturgically sealed. We will have to take the elevator.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: No way around it? I would very much not want to be stuck in one in a soon-to-come spatial anomaly. Being stuck in one room is—
Dr. Asheworth: No. I'm not happy with the fact it will slow us down either.
The team enters the elevator located next to the staircase.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: I'd say we should go up first.
Dr. Asheworth: Agree. I want to see if we can find anyone up there. If there were no cars down here, I'd be inclined to say there is no one, but I'm not sure. If that's the case, then they are up to something. No one leaves a building like this for no reason…
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: …unless something will happen.
Dr. Asheworth: Exactly. That bastard is up to something.
The elevator rides up. When it opens, it reveals an office space, largely occupied by cubicles.
The team makes their way forward, each of the members splitting up into different parts of the room.
Om-10-2: This part's empty. All hardware is gone.
Om-10-1: Same here.
Om-10-3: All's empty.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Note the total lack of documents. They evacuated everything. Not a single piece of paper was left. That… that's unsettling.
Om-10-1: Jesus Christ. Every single thing, gone.
Dr. Asheworth: We might already be too late. I'll check something.
Using Foundation equipment, Dr. Asheworth proceeds to scan the local area.
Dr. Asheworth: Nothing. I… I feel like I'm getting déjà vu. Nothing here, at least. we'll need to explore the basement. If no one's here, that rat must be hiding in there somewhere.
Dr. Asheworth looks around the open room
Dr. Asheworth: Every moment we'll waste here is one more moment for Nowak to freely roam this building. Let's go.
Om-10-1 gets up from his resting point and proceeds to make his way to the elevator.
Om-10-2: Let's go.
Om-10-1 calls the elevator. Three seconds later, the door opens.
He enters the room.
Om-10-2 gets up from his resting point and proceeds to make his way to the elevator.
Om-10-3: Let's go.
Om-10-2 calls the elevator. Three seconds later, the door opens.
He enters the room.
Om-10-3 gets up from his resting point and proceeds to make his way to the elevator.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Let's go.
Om-10-3 calls the elevator. Three seconds later, the door opens.
He enters the room.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr. gets up from his resting point and proceeds to make his way to the elevator.
Dr. Asheworth: Let's— stop. Don't move. All of you. Stay right where you are.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: What's going on?!
Dr. Asheworth: Temporal Ourobo— it's a time loop. Don't move.
Om-10-1: And wh—
Dr. Asheworth: Don't. Three…
ten seconds pass
Dr. Asheworth: Two…
ten seconds pass
Dr. Asheworth: One…
ten seconds pass
Dr. Asheworth: Now. We're free.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: What the hell was that? W-why couldn't we move?
Dr. Asheworth: A self-contained temporal paradox. We- well, we were stuck in a sub-dimension where time was looped.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Jesus Christ. Can we… somehow avoid that, in the future? I… closed spaces is a bad thing on its own, but looped time?
Dr. Asheworth: Theoretically, yes. But it will only get weirder with time here. Our perception will be fucked with.
Om-10-4: Understood. The less time we are here, the less chance there is we'll catch the big ones. Let's get this over with as quickly as we can.
Dr. Asheworth: Let's go.
The team makes its way to the elevator. They enter it and block the down button.
Dr. Asheworth: When we get out, don't separate. I know it might sound weird, but trust me, you don't want to be stuck in a non-dimension.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: I definitely do not.
Om-10-1: Roger.
Om-10-2: Understood.
Om-10-4: Makes sense.
After two minutes, the elevator opens, revealing an open office space. The room is filled with cubicles.
Dr. Asheworth: Oh, no, no. No, no no.
He rushes to the window and opens the curtains.
Dr. Asheworth: No, no, no!
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: What's going on?!
MacCarthy Jr. joins him. Upon looking out of the window, total darkness outside is revealed, with no characteristic landscape being recognizable. The camera feed starts to distort, with most of the recording failing to connect.
At the center of the nonexistent sky, the Moon can be seen. It frequently fluctuates between different locations and looks.
Dr. Asheworth: We're fucked.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Oh no, no no no no.
The recording cuts as the connection is lost.

► ACCESS SCP:/5890/exploration-logs/local-time/05/08/1984

▼ Close File

Date: 05/08/1984
Exploration Team: Mobile Task Force Omega-10, Dr. Asheworth, Dr. MacCarthy Jr.
Subject: SCP-5890
Team Lead: Dr. Asheworth
Team Members: Dr. MacCarthy Jr., Om-10-1, Om-10-2, Om-10-3, Om-10-4
Foreword: For two days, no connection was acquired with the team located inside SCP-5890. During that time, SCP-5890 began to heavily distort itself, with it totally disappearing from Foundation radars for 30 seconds only to return later, with its building materials being misplaced and replaced upon re-entry into reality.

[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Asheworth: …mmand, do you inaudible? Command, do you copy? This is Daniel Asheworth, identification key delta, one, two, seven, alpha, reporting from SCP-5890. We lost contact with inaudible! I repeat, this is Daniel Asheworth, SCP-5890, contact lost! inaudible continues for the next 20 seconds.
The camera is seemingly picked up from a floor by Dr. Asheworth, revealing a dark corridor. Although the background is partially distorted, with it changing on an almost secondly basis, reality around him seems to be stabilized.
Dr. Asheworth: MacCarthy. is inaudible, but I managed to get him into a stable state.
The angle changes, revealing a man sitting on the floor. His arm is bandaged with a basic shirt, stopping the wound from bleeding.
Dr. Asheworth: I have no idea what happened. Dash-four attacked him with a pocket knife. The others quickly tackled him, but he got him pretty badly.
He changes his camera, revealing two men standing near the other end of the corridor. At the end of it, a fluctuating red light can be seen.
Dr. Asheworth: We've been stuck on the middle floor between the reactor and the offices for three— no, four hours now. I honestly don't—
Om-10-2: It's been at least six.
Dr. Asheworth: Oh Jesus inaudible. No, no, no. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. Temporal perception-based distortion.
Om-10-5: What?
Dr. Asheworth: It means we're fucked beyond belief. We're— to put it simply, each of us perceives reality differently now. We need to get out of here, now. Carthy, are you able to walk?
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Y… y-es, yes.
Dr. Asheworth: Is everything fine? You're strangely silent for once.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: I'm… yes, I'm f-fine.
Dr. Asheworth: I—
Om-10-3: Doc? What's this?
Dr. Asheworth: What?
The camera pans away as the red light at the end of the corridor starts spreading in the room. The team quickly runs away, with the camera feed getting distorted near the end of the room.
Connection is lost for 30 seconds.
Upon the connection being re-established, the team emerges into a living room of a house with an open balcony door, revealing a forest-like background around the establishment. Near their left, a door filled with a buzzing, dark light is located. From it, multiple machinery-like sounds can be heard.
Dr. Asheworth: Oh no. No, no, no-
He attempts to enter the hallway located on his left, only to be stuck in place in the middle of the room. He tries to look away from the balcony, but ultimately fails to do so. From the forest, a dog's barking can be heard, alongside an inaudible woman like voice.
Dr. Asheworth: P-please… n-no…
From the outside, a blurred shape emerges, bearing the resemblance to a dog.
Dr. Asheworth: I— No… stop!
The voice gets closer, with words being more and more audible. Though they can't be properly decoded, the word "Daniel" is repeated over and over.
Dr. Asheworth: Stop!
Through the room, a wind-like force sweeps, destroying most of the glass elements. The blurred shape stops in place.
Dr. Asheworth: I'm… I'm sorry. I tried my best. I'm so sorry. I… he starts to cry.
Dr. Asheworth moves his hand in a circle-like manner. In one of the walls, a hole is created, revealing the outside of the power plant. He falls down into the ground. Upon getting up, he puts his hands on his head. From his nose, a line of blood can be seen.
Dr. Asheworth: looking at the rest of the team: Go!
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: But—
Dr. Asheworth: I said, GO!
The team enters the hole.
Dr. Asheworth: Dealing with him is only my responsibility.
The reality distortions get heavier as Asheworth enters the corridor on the left. From it, multiple unidentified voices can be heard.
[END LOG]

► ACCESS SCP:/5890/exploration-logs/local-time/unknown

▼ Close File

Date: Time of exploration could not be determined due to local reality being unstable and camera distortions
Exploration Team: None
Subject: SCP-5890
Team Lead: Dr. Asheworth
Team Members: None
Foreword: The truthfulness of the following video is still pending approval from the O4 Council4. Due to numerous camera distortions and contradictory evidence, it is currently unknown if the material provided within such is true.

[BEGIN LOG]
The room within which the camera is turned on is dimly lit. The object is placed on a balcony located above such.
Dr. Asheworth: very quietly: I… I got you.
The camera zooms into the space located underneath the balcony, revealing the reaction core of the power plant, on which multiple thaumaturgic symbols suggesting the words "to gain power (from)" are located. Around it, red, flicking lights can be seen.
Asheworth moves closer to the edge of the space, which severely greatens the camera distortions..
Dr. Asheworth: I fucking got you.
A zoom shows an individual located near the damaged reactor. They are hooded, and near them, numerous papers, thaumaturgic circles, and unidentified items can be seen.
The individual vocalizes to an unseen crowd, which doesn't respond. The camera operator conducts an audio focus.
???: …and to you, my children, my army, I say — this shall not be our darkest day! Today shall only make us stronger. Never have we been this powerful—
A visual focus reveals numerous unidentified humanoid-like creatures. They do not move.
???: Hunt the locals. Gather their information. Explore their memories. That's all I require of you. With our job here done, we will no longer need to hide. No; your abilities and new inaudible will help us truly mask within this society. When we will need to strike however, we will strike like thunder! No army will be able to stop us! We are the perfect deceivers, the perfect inaudible!
The camera zooms further. Just when it is supposed to show the face of the individual, the camera is violently disrupted and it changes its angle to show the inside of the balustrade Dr. Asheworth is standing on. Behind him, Om-10-4 is standing.
Dr. Asheworth: What the—
Om-10-4 attacks Asheworth, trying to penetrate his arm with a pocket knife. Asheworth fires a gun, successfully hurting the man. Where blood would be however, a total lack of any liquid can be found. Around the wound, the skin turns into a gray scales.
Dr. Asheworth: What the fuck?
Omega-10-4 hisses, revealing a lack of a human tongue.
The other creatures hiss, noticing the sound made by the shot. They all start to climb up the walls to get to the balcony.
???: Get him!
The hooded figure whispers a silent sentence. Within one of the walls, a portal appears. The man enters through it, leaving the location.
Dr. Asheworth: You motherfucker, get back here!
Asheworth tries to rush down the balcony, attempting to make his way into the portal, but fails upon being tackled by approximately 10 of the creatures.
One of the humanoids tackles him to the ground.
Dr. Asheworth: You… piece… of shit!
The camera distorts. When the connection is reestablished, a ring of fire is seen around him and numerous runes burning bright on his gloves, with most creatures standing still, visibly angry at Asheworth near its perimeter.
Asheworth continues running down the room. The camera distorts again. When connection is reestablished, he is holding a spear created of what looks like materials which local pipes are made from.
Dr. Asheworth: Not now! Get… here!
Just as he is about to tackle the person he is after, an indivisible force stops him mid-air. It then throws him at the wall opposite of the portal.
???: It seems you have failed again. Goodbye, Asheworth.
The man enters through the portal.
Dr. Asheworth: Not… now—
The recording cuts.

On 08/08/1984, Daniel Asheworth was seen emerging from SCP-5890. Two hours later, he was administered health-boosting drugs and taken into Site-120's custody.
The next day, the following interview has been conducted.

► ACCESS SCP:/5890/interviews/1

▼ Close File

Date: 09/08/1984
Interviewed: Dr. Asheworth
Interviewer: Dr. MacCarthy Jr.
Foreword: The interview was conducted following Dr. Asheworth's mental and physical health being stabilized.

[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: So, what the hell happened there? Who even was that?
Dr. Asheworth: Nowak. The piece of shit responsible for 5936.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: As I understand from the recordings, you know him, don't you?
Silence.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Look, I can't help you if you don't help me. This just doesn't work like that, goddamnit.
Dr. Asheworth: I was this close.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: What?
Dr. Asheworth: I was this close to catching him. After all these years…
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: We'll get him. Sooner or later.
Dr. Asheworth: You won't. That's the problem.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Why?
Dr. Asheworth: He always… finds a way. No matter how impossible the odds may seem, he always somehow gets alive and well.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: We will find a way.
Dr. Asheworth: That's what you always say.
Silence.
Dr. Asheworth: So, what now?
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: As in?
Dr. Asheworth: As in, what happens to all of the people working at that power plant. They're not gonna just let them back in. It's a cesspool of shapeshifters and a temporal crossroad between mentally shared memory-alike dimensions, it's— sorry. I… I get official when I'm nervous.
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: I… I— coughs I kn-ow. coughs
Silence
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: Honestly? They will probably just amnesticize everyone and make a story up about… radioactive waste or something. It always works out.
Dr. Asheworth: But… you can't… just do that! Amnestics will throw off the perception of local people for years, if not decades to come! How many people are alive here? Twenty thousand? Forty? That might spread the information about potential anomalous activity within the region if authorities get involved—
Dr. MacCarthy Jr.: I know. But that won't change anything. sighs It never does.
Silence
Dr. Asheworth: How about the others? Are they at least safe?
Dr. MacCarthy Jr: Dash two and three made it out with me. Dash one though… the red light consumed him. We never saw him again. But… at least we are safe.
Dr. Asheworth: That's… all that matters…
[END LOG]

Closing statement: Dr. MacCarthy Jr. disappeared the next day. Although a search for him is currently in the workings, no anomalous activity was noted around him within the past week.

The search for PoI-5936 is still ongoing.

> log-off

RECORDING CURRENT SESSION — 1843 FILES READ…

LOGGING OFF. THANK YOU FOR USING SCIPNET, DOCTOR MACCARTHY JUNIOR.

Footnotes
1. Or, rather, at that time, its nonanomalous origin building, hereby referred to as LoI-5890.
2. The entirety of the document was translated from Russian, a language not native to the writer of the document.
3. A Mobile Task Force focused on exploring spatial, temporal, and thaumaturgic anomalies, trained to be invulnerable to most reality-altering effects
4. A gathering of Site Directors, Department Leaders, and important personnel responsible for handling important situations that do not require the attention of Overwatch Command.

SCP-5936

And Every Time We Meet Again

Halfway Found, Halfway Lost

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Content note: This article contains gore, body horror and implied references to alcohol and depression. If you notice anything tag-worthy that's not in here, please mention it in a comment.

Item #: SCP-5891
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-5891 has been purchased by the Foundation. It is to remain empty, under the cover story of structural damage. The windows have been covered with newspaper from the inside. Trespassers must be amnesticised.
Description: SCP-5891 is a two-storey terraced house, numbered 28 on █████████ Street in Wrexham, Wales. It had been abandoned for an unknown period of time before its discovery.
SCP-5891 is the focal point of a recursive effect, wherein numerous copies of the interior can be accessed via holes knocked haphazardly through the walls.1 These holes appear in different places depending on the iteration of SCP-5891; for instance, the access point from the main instance to the second is in the bathroom. Furthermore, they can only be entered in one direction; any person entering the other way will find themselves in the same iteration. However, going back through one will return a person to the previous iteration.
Exit from a secondary instance of SCP-5891 is impossible; the front door cannot be opened, and neither the walls nor windows can be breached. Nothing that requires access outside the house (for example, water or electronics) functions. Early instances of SCP-5891 are identical; later iterations show some discrepancies.2
SCP-5891 was being rented by ████ ███████ at time of discovery. The anomaly was discovered when Rhiannon Edwards, a paramedic stationed at Wrexham Maelor Hospital, complained about ███████'s continued absence. He had no known anomalous contacts, and a spotless record at the hospital save for an incident fifteen months prior to his disappearance. Details of said incident on the hospital computer network had been corrupted, and staff were unable to provide any useful information. No trace of ███████ has yet been found.
Addendum 2: Layout of SCP-5891:

Ground floor: hall, living room (two rooms knocked through), kitchen
First floor: landing, master bedroom, spare bedroom, bathroom

Addendum 4: First human exploration of SCP-5891

Click to open

Click to close

Personnel participating: D-94771 (field), Dr. McDonald (base)
<BEGIN LOG>
D-94771: Alright, can you hear me?
McDonald: Receiving you loud and clear.
D-94771: Sound. So, I just go in the house?
McDonald: That's right. Just have a look around and report anything anomalous back to me.
D-94771: Will do.
D-94771 enters SCP-5891 and begins investigation of the ground floor. Other than the dust naturally occurring from a lack of maintenance, nothing anomalous is immediately obvious.
D-94771 enters the living room, which is cluttered and disordered. Leftovers on the coffee table are stale, but not mouldy. Next to them is a book, turned over to hold it open. D-94771 picks it up and begins flipping through it.
D-94771: Can I just thank you now for sending me to the spooky haunted house in the daytime? Tones down the horror a bit, at least.
McDonald: Well, there wouldn't be much point in sending someone to explore if they can't properly see what they're exploring.
D-94771: Tell that to the dickhead who had me traipsing round a castle at one in the morning waiting to get grabbed by a mirror monster.
D-94771 makes to put the book down.
McDonald: Actually, hold on there a minute, Olivia.
D-94771: [laughs] Haven't fucked up already, have I?
McDonald: Do you remember what page that book was held open at?
D-94771: Uh, no. Sorry, was that important?
McDonald: Probably not. Okay, er, let's try this; close the book and reopen it to whatever page feels natural.
D-94771: What, like, emotionally?
McDonald: No, physically. If the book's been held open on that page for a while, it'll be more likely to reopen there. Read me the first line, too.
D-94771: Sure, makes sense, I guess. What's the story, Balamory? [sound of flipping pages] That's… one hundred and nine. It starts mid-sentence.
McDonald: That's fine, just from the top of the page.
D-94771: [clears throat] "intended as a tool to aid towards self-actualisation. He saw this as the aim for all humans, and believed that the hierarchy-"
McDonald: Okay, that's enough. Could you move through to the kitchen now, please?
D-94771 discards the book and moves through to the kitchen, which is also disordered. Several disposable plates can be seen in the bin, and unwashed dishes are soaking in discoloured water in the sink.
D-94771: Jesus, what a mess. Not gonna make me go fishing through that, are you?
McDonald: We've imaged it beforehand, so not right now.
D-94771: Thank fuck for that. Some mercy. When you say "imaged…"
McDonald: We've sent drones in here before to investigate. And to answer your next question, drones are clumsier than humans, and more cumbersome. Besides, sometimes anomalies react differently to living things than machines.
D-94771 makes a noise of affirmation, before returning to the hall and climbing the stairs. She enters the master bedroom, which is in a similar state to the rest of SCP-5891. A large hole is present in the wall, through which the bathroom can be seen. The bed is made; a shape is visible underneath the duvet. D-94771 stops immediately upon seeing it.
D-94771: [whispering] Is, uh- is that-
McDonald: Please remove the covers now.
D-94771: [whispering] Are you fucking joking? No fucking way.
McDonald: For what it's worth, we don't think there's anything dangerous under there.
D-94771: [whispering] Bullshit! You want someone to get eaten, do it your fucking self, I'm not-
McDonald: Look, I understand you're scared, Olivia, and I wish I could tell you that you're a hundred percent safe, but I can't. That being said, I'm telling you, we- I am as confident as I can be that that's not going to hurt you. I promise, this is not a death sentence.
[brief pause]
D-94771: Okay.
McDonald: But I still need you to look.
D-94771: [hesitates] Fuck this, and fuck you.
She trudges across the room and grasps the edge of the covers in her fingertips. She takes a deep breath, and quickly pulls the covers off the bed. Nothing is present underneath. An indentation in the mattress, as though someone has recently been there, is observable, roughly corresponding to the shape in the covered bed.
D-94771: Huh.
McDonald: For the record, if this was a death sentence, it wouldn't be me overseeing it. I don't really have the stomach for sending people into the mincer.
D-94771: Oh, yeah, I forgot how hard this must all be on you.
McDonald: [laughs] Fair enough. Could you touch the space where the shape was, please?
D-94771: [obliges] Huh, it's… weird. Like the air's… harder? Dunno, feels like there's resistance though. Like putting your hands in water while wearing gloves, or something. [she places her hand on the indentation] Bed's cold, though.
McDonald: Thank you. Can we move to the bathroom, now?
D-94771: Can I go through- not through the hole, right.
D-94771 exits the bedroom via the door and enters the bathroom.
McDonald: Okay, before you enter, I'd like you to mark a cross on the wall opposite the hole.
D-94771 obliges, then enters the bedroom of the second iteration of SCP-5891. It is identical to that of the first iteration, before her entry. She looks back through the hole, observing the cross she marked in the first iteration.
D-94771 walks to the bed and stands over it. The shape is visible.
D-94771: Suppose you'll be wanting the same again.
McDonald: If you would.
D-94771 sighs, and quickly removes the covers.
D-94771: Same as before. [she touches the indentation] Weird feeling and all.
McDonald: Alright. Go to the bathroom again, please? Through the doors.
D-94771 obliges. The cross is not visible on the bathroom wall.
D-94771: Trippy.
McDonald: If you could look through the rest of the house, now? Report any differences you notice.
D-94771: Aye, captain.
D-94771 searches the second iteration of SCP-5891. No observable variations between it and the first are noted. She stops in the living room.
McDonald: The book's still on the coffee table? What page is it on?
D-94771 recovers it.
D-94771: One-oh-nine. Is that right?
McDonald: Should be. Does the page start "intended as a tool to aid towards self-actualisation?"
D-94771: Yeah. That good or bad?
McDonald: Neither, as far as I know. Can you leave the house? Are the windows and doors useable?
D-94771 climbs onto the couch and attempts to open the window, without success. Front door yields same results.
D-94771: I could try and smash the window, if you want. Because I want to.
McDonald: You can try, but don't hurt yourself doing it.
D-94771 laughs, and unsuccessfully attempts to breach SCP-5891 using a chair.
D-94771: Fuck, okay, maybe that wasn't my best move.
McDonald: Anything unusual outside the window? What do you see?
D-94771: I see… oh my God.
McDonald: Olivia?
D-94771: There's a crowd of people. None of them have a face… but they're all staring at me!
McDonald: What? Are they attacking? How can-
D-94771: [laughs] Nah, just fucking with you, it's just the street. Nothing weird.
McDonald: Alright. You can consider this an official reprimand.
D-94771: You're no fun. [pause] Actually, there is something.
McDonald: Don't try my patience.
D-94771: No, seriously, your van full of goons isn't there. Can't tell if there's any other differences, but it's definitely still parked outside, right?
McDonald: Right. Alright, noted, thank you. The next hole should be in the kitchen cupboard.
D-94771 enters the kitchen, marks a cross on the wall opposite to the cupboard, before opening it and crawling through the hole within. She enters the third iteration of SCP-5891. No difference is observable between it and the second.
D-94771: So, uh, you expecting something to happen here? 'Cause I never thought I'd get bored exploring a mysterious haunted house, but I guess that's the world we live in.
McDonald: Ideally, we'll keep going until it stops recurring. If it doesn't stop, we'll call you back when the number gets to a certain point. You've been given food for a reason.
D-94771: [muttering] "We'll keep going," is it? [normal tone] Fine, whatever. Where's the next hole again?
McDonald: Cupboard under the stairs. This is the last recursion that's been mapped out, though, so you'll be guiding us from now on.
D-94771: Look forward to it.
D-94771 looks out of the kitchen window, and pauses.
D-94771: So, uh, it's probably worth mentioning that there's a bird in the garden that's not moving. Like, in mid-air. That's, that's not normal, right?
McDonald: I suppose that's why there's no van outside.
D-94771 agrees. She enters the fourth recursion of SCP-5891, and begins exploring the ground floor. No difference is observable.
D-94771: Welcome to Luigi's Mansion, all! To your left, you'll see an unopenable door, one of a kind, we guarantee! To your - well, ahead now, prepare yourselves for the majesty of a pigsty of a living room! Yes, postcards will be available from the giftshop as we leave.
McDonald: Are you always this… chirpy?
D-94771 returns to the hall, and goes to climb the stairs.
D-94771: Would you rather I was curled up crying in the corner? No, don't answer that, you probably would, wouldn't -
The stairs give out underneath D-94771. She cries out as she falls.
McDonald: What's happening? Olivia? Are you alright?
D-94771: [groans] Fucking hell.
McDonald: Where are you? Are you hurt?
D-94771: I, uh- [she opens a door next to her back under the stairs. Guess we found that next hole. Jesus, that hurt. Think I'm good.
McDonald: If you're alright, get to looking around. We do have a team on standby if we need to get you out.
D-94771: You do? Didn't think you cared. I thought I was the expendable meat? Would you really send the SAS in after me if something happened?
McDonald: Honestly? Depends what happened.
D-94771: …guess I can't argue with that. You wouldn't let the world end or whatever just to save me, would you? There's nothing here, by the way. That book's on the same page every time.
McDonald: Interesting. Alright, upstairs, then. Careful around the hole.
D-94771: Yeah, fool me once. [she begins her ascent] You're proper interested in that book, aren't you?
McDonald: Could be important. Maybe not in of itself, but-
D-94771: No, hang on, I know this; you're assuming the first house is the original, and the rest are copies. The book's on the same page, so it was left there before whatever mystic shite happened here happened here.
McDonald: Something like that.
D-94771: You sure you've got things the right way round?
McDonald: What?
D-94771: Maybe the original's at the centre, and everything else is a copy.
D-94771 enters the bedroom, and goes to the bed.
McDonald: It's possible, I suppose. Any theories on why?
D-94771: [shrugs] You're the doctor. [she removes the bed covers] What the fuck!
In the bed is a mass of indistinguishable, amorphous fatty tissue. It is pale, roughly human-sized, and fills exactly the indentation seen in prior iterations of the bed. The tissue quivers faintly in place. Liquid fat drips off the edges, soaking into the mattress.
D-94771: Oh, no, no, no no no. You let me the fuck out of here, and you let me out now.
McDonald: [aside] Look, surely we can - Okay, thanks. [to D-94771] Alright, you can come back. Just - wait!
D-94771 had quickly gone to leave the room; she hesitates at Dr. McDonald's instruction.
McDonald: Can you get a sample of the tissue? Like, a scraping?
D-94771: You want me to touch that thing? Fuck you!
McDonald: [aside] Alright, come on, does she have to? [pause] This is - oh, for - [to D-94771] Look, they won't let you back unless you do it.
D-94771: But… what if it wakes up?
McDonald: Do you think it's sentient? Um, aware of you?
D-94771: I don't wanna know.
McDonald: If you could just catch some of the drippings in the container -
D-94771: What're you gonna do if I don't, shoot me?
McDonald: They might.
D-94771 paces up and down the room, giving the bed a wide berth. After several seconds she groans, tugging at her hair.
D-94771: Fine. Fine, I'm doing it. Fucking hell. [she leans over the mass, and retches] Oh, God, it stinks. [she tentatively scrapes a sample of liquid fat into a vial, and quickly retreats. Mass remains unresponsive.]
McDonald: Can you describe it?
D-94771: Uh, sweaty. Bad, like sour milk. Stale beer, bit like off meat, too - fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick. Can I come back now, please?
McDonald: Yes, please do.
<END LOG>
Closing statement: D-94771 returned to SCP-5891 without incident. DNA testing of the sample she recovered indicated human, but was too heavily decayed for any further analysis.

Addendum 7: Second human exploration of SCP-5891

Click to open

Click to close

Personnel participating: D-94771 (field), Dr. McDonald (base)
<BEGIN LOG>
McDonald: We're on.
D-94771: Dr. McDonald! Nice to hear your voice again. Well, it would be under other circumstances.
McDonald: Hello, Olivia. If we could get going?
D-94771: Alright.
D-94771 enters SCP-5891, which appears the same as in the last exploration log
McDonald: Do you remember where the entrances are?
D-94771: That what we're calling them now? Yeah, think I can manage.
D-94771 traverses the first three iterations without incident, and explores the fourth.
McDonald: Careful on the stairs, here -
D-94771: Yeah, I remember. Still bruised.
She avoids the hole, and investigates the first floor. It is identical to the three prior iterations. She returns to the stairs, and enters the next iteration.
D-94771: Is, uh, Mr. Blobby still here?
McDonald: We have to assume so. But we also have no reason to think it's hostile.
D-94771: Mm.
After investigating the ground floor at a slow pace, she makes her way upstairs, taking the bathroom, then the spare room.
D-94771: Next hole's in the floor, here. [she gestures] Guess I'll need to stand on a chair or something to come back.
McDonald: Understood. The bedroom, now, if you -
D-94771: Yes, alright, I - [sighs] Give me a minute.
After some hesitation, she enters the bedroom. The mass is still present, and does not seem to have moved.
D-94771: Yup, still here. Still gross. Still smells like Anfield on a Saturday. I don't have to touch it again, do I?
McDonald: No. You can move on, now.
D-94771: That's a shame, I was gonna have a tea party with it.
D-94771 enters the next iteration of SCP-5891, and goes first to the bedroom, removing the bed covers. An identical mass is present, and she retreats quickly.
D-94771: Oh, great. What actually is that, by the way? Did you figure it out?
McDonald: We, uh, don't know. Harmless, as far as we know, but we're not sure exactly what it is.
D-94771: You know, you could have just lied to me, really wouldn't have minded.
D-94771 explores several further iterations of SCP-5891 without much communication, and the unidentified mass is still present in the recursions. She stops to rest periodically in the living room. Eventually, she enters the thirty-second iteration at the living room and pauses.
D-94771: Guess that book mattered after all.
McDonald: Hmm?
D-94771: [gestures towards coffee table] Can you see it on your end? I can't.
D-94771 was asked to wait in the room, while Dr. McDonald and Junior Researcher Samuels undertook a more thorough examination of footage already acquired. Upon closer inspection, since the tenth iteration, an increasing number of items in the house were not present in further instances. No connection is apparent between said objects. This information is relayed to D-94771, and she is instructed to keep closer notice on future iterations.
D-94771 continues onward, providing details of further missing objects but with little communication otherwise.
McDonald: You're unusually quiet. Everything alright?
D-94771: Thought you would've been pleased.
McDonald: I'm just making sure this isn't getting to you. If it is, it could be an anomalous -
D-94771: Be fair, Doctor. What am I supposed to say? "Oh, yes, Doc, it's still a shithole, oh yes, Doc, there's the great blob of fucked-upitude, oh yes, Doc, more of the same," it's just the fucking same thing, over and over and over.
Arriving at the bedroom, D-94771 removes the quilt, carelessly throwing it to the floor.
D-94771: Although… am I imagining things, or is that smaller than before?
Junior Researcher Samuels reviews previous footage, with inconclusive results.
D-94771: Alright, let's try this…
She returns to the kitchen, searching all the drawers until she comes across a tape measure. She then returns to the bedroom and measures the length and width of the mass.
D-94771: I'll check it again in a few gos.
Eight iterations later, D-94771 measures the mass again.
D-94771: Sure enough. Only a couple of inches, but it's smaller.
D-94771 proceeds through a further twenty-four iterations. Across these instances, the house becomes noticeably less cluttered, and the mass visibly smaller than the indentation in the bed around it.
At the next iteration, she removes the quilt from the mass.
D-94771: Huh. That's… different.
The fat coating the mass is thinning; patches of scabs and scar tissue underneath it become evident. Some of the scabs are peeling away, and blood congeals through the cracks exposed in the tissue.
McDonald: Could you get a sample of that blood, please?
D-94771 makes a noise of affirmation and obliges.
McDonald: That was relatively painless.
D-94771: Well, it's just a big lump of goo. Not worth getting worked up over.
McDonald: You've changed your tune.
D-94771: Yeah, well, you see it a million times, it's hard to get particularly worked up over it. When can I come back?
McDonald: The stuff in the house is thinning out now. Maybe by the time it's all gone, you'll have reached the last iteration. If not, once that happens, we'll discuss our options.
D-94771: Fine.
D-94771 traverses a further thirty one iterations of SCP-5891. During this time, the house is almost bare of items, barring furniture and the mass in the bed, which has reduced to nearly half the size. Very little of the fat remains; it is entirely scabbed over.
In the next iteration, the house is empty of items. In her exploration, D-94771 is unable to locate another hole.
D-94771: Finally. Think we're done. I want a long nap after this.
McDonald: See what I can do. I suppose there's just the bedroom to go, then.
She enters the bedroom. The bed is made. No shape is visible underneath.
D-94771: Huh. Here goes nothing.
D-94771 removes the covers. The bed is empty.
D-94771: Nothing. At all. [sighs] What a fucking waste.
<END LOG>
Closing statement: D-94771 returned without incident. Blood sample was too corrupted for conclusive analysis.

Addendum 8: Interview log

Click to open

Click to close

Interviewed: Rhiannon Edwards
Interviewer: Researcher Farnsworth
Foreword: Attempt to garner further information regarding ████ ███████, and to determine if Edwards had any prior knowledge of SCP-5891. Interview was conducted under the guise of a police investigation.
<BEGIN LOG>
Farnsworth: And we're recording. Ms. Edwards, are you comfortable?
Edwards: Fine, thank you.
Farnsworth: Good. Let's start, then; you were the one to report Mr. ███████'s disappearance, isn't that right? What was the nature of your relationship?
Edwards: Uh, yes, that's right. I think "relationship" is a strong way to put it, we worked together. Both manned the same ambulance.
Farnsworth: Do you know where he is?
Edwards: No. I'd have told you if I did. I'd have reported him if I did.
Farnsworth: What can you tell me about him?
Edwards: Uh… [glances at camera] Sorry, I'm not quite sure…
Farnsworth: Just say what you're thinking. Don't feel like you need to censor yourself or anything, whatever you can give us is helpful.
Edwards: …look, I don't know what's happened to him, no-one'll tell me if he's dead, or, in prison, or whatever. I know what they say about speaking ill of the dead, but… he was a wanker.
Farnsworth: So, you didn't get on, then.
Edwards: No-one got on with him. He'd been there for a year or two before I started working with him, and I don't even know if he'd ever spoken to any of them. He was just…
Farnsworth: Go on?
Edwards: Sometimes you meet someone, and there's nothing wrong with them, exactly. They're not rude, or dodgy, or angry, or anything.
Farnsworth: I'm not sure I follow.
Edwards: Well, that was it. He just wasn't anything. Lights were on, no-one at home. You'd speak to him, and he'd talk back, and he seemed nice, and all, but it just never felt like there was anyone really there. Freaked me the fuck out - sorry, am I allowed to say that?
Farnsworth: You can say whatever you want. Alright, when was the last time you saw him?
Edwards: Fortnight before I reported him. We work night shifts, we barely spoke to each other that night. Alan and Walt had to fill in for him before I got sick of it and complained.
Farnsworth: I see. I assume you didn't speak because of your feelings towards one another?
Edwards: We didn't speak because of the shift before that. We got a call to Windsor Street, some animals had stabbed a kid there. Disgrace, I'm telling you. Just dumped him on the pavement, he was only seventeen, poor lad. Anyway, we got him on board, ████ bagged him and I - I held it - he was -
Farnsworth: If you're upset, we can take-
Edwards: I'm not upset. [takes deep breath] I held it in place, I looked up, and ████ - he'd gone up front to ask Jen how far out we were. And I yelled, I screamed at him to get his arse into gear and do his fucking job, and he - he just -
[brief pause. Edwards breathes quietly.]
Edwards: He sat down, started squeezing. He looked at me and said sorry.
Farnsworth: I understand. He made a mistake -
Edwards: No, I'm sorry, we all make mistakes. It's- it's bloody stressful, and you go on automatic sometimes, and you miss things, you can't help it. You've just got to move on.
Edwards: But he was just a kid. He could have died - he nearly did die. And when ████ said sorry, when he looked at me, he just looked blank. No expression. And he sounded so flat when he - like he'd used the last of the milk at the coffee machine or something. You'd think he of all people would get het up over it, but… [sighs] I… it got me wondering, why did he do it?
Farnsworth: Do what?
Edwards: The job. Why would you do something like that if you didn't care?
<END LOG>
Closing statement: After further questioning, Ms. Edwards was deemed to have no knowledge of SCP-5891, or ████ ███████'s whereabouts. She was released shortly afterwards. Mr. ███████ has still not been located.

Footnotes
1. No rubble is present in the house.
2. See Addendum 4.

« SCP-5890 | SCP-5891 | SCP-5892 »


Item#: 5892

Level1

Containment Class:
safe

Secondary Class:
none

Disruption Class:
dark

Risk Class:
notice

link to memo

Special Containment Procedures:

Iteration 1:

Close

Date: 14/04/2011
SCP-5892 is contained in a Level 1 storage locker at Site-32. SCP-5892 is to be sterilised by a level 2 or higher staff member with no experience in dog ownership. This also includes any staff of level 2 clearance who has already used SCP-5892. The SCP-5892-2 instances may be kept by the corresponding staff members as long as they are logged accordingly and do not leave Foundation grounds. Clearance level 1 & 2 staff must have permission from either the Site Director or two clearance level 4 personnel before taking the dogs no further than 100 yards from Site 32 and for no longer than 4 hours per day.

Iteration 2:

Close

Amendment Date: 30/04/2011
SCP-5892 will be contained at Site-32's K9 Unit Facility in a Level 2 storage locker with the intent to re-establish Foundation service dogs.

Current Iteration

Close

Amendment Date: 18/10/2016
SCP-5892 is being housed at Site-32's safe objects wing inside a hermetically sealed box. Permission from a staff member with clearance level 3 or higher is required before 5892 can be removed for experimental purposes. Following this, all personnel must undergo a psychological assessment to ensure that the staff member in question was not detrimentally affected. The corresponding staff member is permitted to keep their 5892-2 instance.

Description: SCP-5892 is a beige ceramic dog bowl with the words 'A ♥ Loyal ♥ Friend ♥ Indeed' embossed on the side.
The anomalous nature of SCP-5892 will activate 24 hours after it is filled with 700 ml of water, following which a 5892-1 instance will be found drinking from 5892 and will identify the one who activated 5892 as their former owner.
The quality of the water will affect how long an SCP-5892-1 instance will remain after activation. If mineral water is used to fill 5892, then the resulting instances will live for as long as they would naturally. In contrast, tap or bottled water will only allow for a 24 hour manifestation period.
SCP-5892-2 is a strip of 4.5 x 4.5 animate Photo Booth photos that feature 10-second looping images of a 5892-1 instance with its owner. 5892-2 will always manifest on that person's pillow after the de manifestation or death of an SCP-5892-1 instance. The number of photos per strip can range from a minimum of 3 to a maximum of 7 at any one time.

RECOVERY LOG

DATE: 10/04/2011
NOTE: After a headline about a resurrected dog was published in an Isle of Mann newspaper, the Foundation sent researcher Aoibhinn1 O'Hara posing as a journalist to recover the anomaly: Parish of Bride, Isle of Man, 54.368°N 4.378°W.

[BEGIN LOG]
O'Hara: Approaching the home of Mr Macgilcobraght. <O'Hara knocks on the front door.>
MacGilcobraght: Yes, yes, who is it? <Opens the door, O'Hara steps forward.>
O'Hara: Good afternoon, Sir, I'm with the Belfast Telegraph. If you would be so kind, may I ask you a few questions concerning the recent headline?
MacGilcobraght: Belfast? Come all this way? … fine, fine, come in and take a seat.
O'Hara: Thank you, Sir, I shan't be too long, I promise. <O'Hara enters, the door shutting behind her>
MacGilcobraght: Here it is, this is the bowl, no doubt you wanted to see it, take a look if you want. <A dog bowl is placed on the table and pushed towards O'Hara>
O'Hara: One step ahead of me, I see, Sir, thank you. Now could you go over what happened again for me? <O'Hara takes a notepad and pen from the inside of her jacket.>
MacGilcobraght: Hmm, well, the day before yesterday I was going through some clutter, and I found old Sammy's bowl, I washed it up and left it to soak, and then …
O'Hara:Then what sir?
MacGilcobraght: Hold ya horses, I'm getting there. When I came downstairs the following morning, there he was, collar and all, my dog. Never mind the fact he had been dead for the last ten years, but there he was.[[/size]]}}
O'Hara: Wow… Your dog came back to life, that's… That's really something. What are you going to do with the bowl now?
MacGilcobraght: I have no more need of it. The fact that I was able to see my old boy again was nothing short of a miracle. I don't want to tamper with that sort of thing. The dead are best left alone ya know.
O'Hara: Yes, I understand completely. Thank you for your time, Sir. I'll be leaving now.

[END LOG]
Anomaly has been recovered. The owner has been amnesticized. Heading back now.

O'Hara's Notes #1

As if relapsing wasn't bad enough and not like I wasn't already using alcohol to drown my sorrow's like some lush. It's gotten worse. My relapses always hit me harder this time of the year, the day my friend and companion left me.
I didn't have anyone to confide in either. My parents went earlier that year. She was my crutch. Now that I've lost her, how can I possibly stand on my own? Losing someone you love so dearly.
The night I lost her, I don't remember much other than waking up with a horrific headache. I had thought about getting help. I couldn't bring myself to leave home. I drank too much and ate too little.
I thought I would never have a reason to continue until, well, until the Foundation contacted me. Burying so much pain, not letting such feelings rule. It isn't easy, not one bit.
The recovery mission I went on recently is what I think triggered this relapse. I know I shouldn't have gone. The prospect of getting out of the Foundation was too tempting to pass up. What's done is done, I guess.

Experimentation Log 1

Trial Test
Date: 13/04/2011
Subject: D-3773.
Procedure: Filling SCP-5892 with 700 ml of tap water.
Results: A Dachshund identified as "Guinevere" by D-3773 appeared after 24 hours of SCP-5892 being filled. Upon reuniting with SCP-5892-1, D-3773 interacted with the instance positively and was permitted to spend as much time with SCP-5892-1 as they wanted under close monitoring.
Analysis: Upon reaching the 24-hour limit, SCP-5892-1 demanifested. This left D-3773 in significant emotional distress at the loss.
A SCP-5892-2 instance was discovered on D-3773's bed pillow upon returning to her room. The instance showed a looping 10-second image of D-3773 with SCP-5892-1. After logging the 5892-2 instance, D-3773 was permitted to keep the photo as tests concluded it was not anomalous outside its animate properties.

O'Hara's Notes #2

I can't believe it, fate or fortune, I can finally see her again, after all this time, we can be reunited, I don't know what I have done to be given such an opportunity, but I'm taking this bull by the horns. I don't care what the others say. I'm seeing my friend again.
I can't possibly pass this up, and there are so few anomalies that are genuinely nice in such a profound manner such as this.
I need to be with her again, even if it's only for a short while, just a day with her will be more than I could ask for, just please, let me see her, that's all I want, it's all I need. Ailey always preferred mineral water, so I'm going to use that. Her palette was always refined.
Director Roberts has given me the go-ahead to experiment with SCP-5892. I owe her a few drinks for this.

Experimentation Log 2

Test A
Date 29/04/2011
Subject: Researcher O'Hara.
Procedure: Filling SCP-5892 with 700 ml of mineral water.
Results: A 5-year-old Kerry Beagle, identified as Ailey, was found drinking from SCP-5892 after 24 hours.
Analysis: SCP-5892-1 has not vanished and remains within Site-32. 5892-1 appears to be healthy and is ageing normally. With this test, we can safely say that the quality of the water used with SCP-5892 has affected the lifespan of SCP-5892-1 significantly. Still, these instances do not pose a threat, significant or otherwise, to the Foundation. O'Hara expressed happiness and sadness in a volatile outburst when engaging with SCP-5892-1.

Test A-1: 30/04/2011 - 05/05/2011
Subject: SCP-5892-1
Procedure: Checking SCP-5892-1 for any anomalies that may be of concern or danger.
Results: A 5-day quarantine and testing revealed nothing of concern or note. Effectively SCP-5892-1 is a regular dog and will be put under the care of Researcher O'Hara.

O'Hara's Notes #3

If Ailey's going to be around once more, I need to decide on what's going to happen to her. She plays with me as if we have never been apart. I can't stomach the thought of getting rid of her or sending her to a new home, god forbid. I need to think of something.

02/05/2011
Site Director Roberts has issued me with leave to care for Ailey. I'm going to use this time to make new and better memories. She's still got all of the bounce and jive as she did before. I think we will start with a walk along the Curracloe Strand and a dip in the water, perhaps bring along some tennis balls too.
04/05/2011
The flight back to Ireland was smooth sailing, my girl was a little nervous at first, but she settled just fine. Luckily, my old home was still intact. It had been converted to a Foundation safe house for any field agents in the area. She ran to the door scratching the hell out of it wanting to get inside; she knows she's home.
16/05/2011
I've just given Ailey her first bath since her return; she loved it, couldn't sit still, soap everywhere, covered in seaweed from our walk this morning; after drying her off, her coat looked beautiful; it had an incredible shine. Her eating habits have stayed the same, demolishing a bowl of kibble within seconds.
08/06/2011
As a special treat, I shared some biscuits with Ailey, plain ones; of course, I figured it would be fitting, since it's my birthday and this was the day I first ever got this little angel, she only gets so many, and no amount of puppy eyes or begging will break me, but I think she knows that already.
21/07/2011
My legs went numb this afternoon; Ailey fell asleep on me while we were watching a film. I couldn't bring myself to move her. She looked so peaceful, and heavy too. I forgot that, didn't I? Well, it serves me right, I guess.
04/09/2011
Ailey helped with cleaning the leaves; well, I say help, it was more run and jumped through the piles I had made. She thought she could hide amongst the leaves; it would have worked had it not been for her nose poking out. After I got the hose, the plants in the garden needed good watering, this would have gone smoothly, but someone decided it was time for a drink. Both of us had a good scrub down after that.
23/12/2014
Did some extra special Christmas shopping, went and had a look around a pet store, brought some little gifts for a certain someone to tear open on the big day. I hope she doesn't destroy them too fast.
31/10/2015
Went and got a werewolf mask; Ailey did not like it one bit, goes into a fit of barking whenever I put it on. Going to let Ailey hold the candy bucket for the trick or treaters; she's great around kids. the neighbour's kid loved playing with her before, all grown up now, though.
17/01/2016
Our morning walk went well; it was a little longer than usual. I stopped on some benches so Ailey could rest. She left a little bit of food, never ended up eating it, so I threw it. This afternoon we watched some old re-runs of Crufts, something we can both enjoy.
04/10/2016
Ailey is getting slower and slower, she's still wagging her tail, but her movements have become sluggish, and she's been sleeping more. I've been giving her more one-on-one care; I've cut the length of our walks down.
06/10/2016
I've been fighting the urge to break down, and her condition isn't improving. She still looks so happy when she sees me. Ailey is such a trooper. I have no idea how much she must be suffering. Her eyes smile, and her little tail wag when she sees me. I don't want to lose her again, not again.
07/10/2016
She's limping now, needs help getting on the sofa. So strong, she's so strong. How she can keep going, the pain she must be feeling, and yet all I see are smiles and wagging tails—you, my champion, keeping me out of trouble, keeping me safe from myself. I'm going to make sure she's comfortable.
09/10/2016

Her breathing has gotten more laboured. There's more grey fur around her muzzle. It's getting close. I know it is. I never wanted to get emotional in front of Ailey, but I couldn't help it. Seeing her struggle to jump on the sofa took me over the edge. I helped her on the couch so she could lay down. I'm going to stay right at your side, girl, for as many nights as we have left.
10/10/2016
How am I going to cope at the Foundation? Would I be forced to take amnestics and lose these memories? I don't want to forget about any of this. I was given this chance, I can't let it slip away, but if my work ethic falls too low, they would surely take corrective action. I hadn't even noticed Ailey walk up to my side. She placed a paw on my leg and leaned up to lick my cheek. Her eyes held so much love, so much happiness, and it showed her appreciation for everything I had done, a love that couldn't be conveyed by words.
11/10/2016
She went in my arms this evening; I did what I could to make her comfy, I knew she wasn't, but what I could I do, I spoke to her, through my sobs, of course, I wanted to be strong, I didn't want to have the sound of my crying be the last thing she heard. I have cherished every moment I've had, and I hope my little Ailey felt the same.
11/10/2016
Found the photos of my baby girl; she looks so happy, her little tail wagging all over the place, those beautiful eyes; I hoped you enjoyed this reunion as much as I did, Ailes. I'm keeping this instance on me at all times. Working for the Foundation is never easy, but it's all I know and knowing I have my friend close by, it helps, even if it is a little, It helps.
17/10/2016
I've taken some extra time to try and deal and cope with this loss; I remember how much it hurt the first time, and this second time around, I can't adequately explain the pain I felt. I buried her in the garden; this is where she grew, so this is where she'll rest. Covering her up was perhaps the most challenging part. I laid down beside her, knowing she's gone to a better place. Please wait for me, girl, that was the last thing I said.
20/10/2016
I can't bring myself to go back. I nearly did, but I didn't. I couldn't, not yet, not while I'm feeling this emptiness. How can I concentrate on work? I find myself sitting by her side, even when it's raining. I've planted flowers around her grave. Her memory is still fresh in my mind. This is the second time I've lost her. I don't want to experience this pain again. The photos haven't left my side. Now and then, I look at it, look at us, look at her, always so happy and energetic, and she's gone, taken away, she didn't deserve this, not to experience it twice. You were such a good girl, Ailey. I love you.

The remains of SCP-5892—1 (Ailey) are left buried at Safehouse 00:Indigo, and should not be disturbed as orders from Site Director Roberts. The use of mineral water for future experiments will be heavily regulated to avoid further emotional stress.

SCP-5892-1 (Ailey) outside of Safehouse 00:Indigo.

Footnotes
1. Pronounced ee-van.

« SCP-5891 | SCP-5892 | SCP-5893 »


Album cover for SCP-5895's 4th studio album, recovered February 13th, 2014.

Item #: SCP-5895
Object Class: the simpsons farting
Special Containment Procedures: All instances of SCP-5895 are currently contained within a sound padded room at Site-98's recreational wing with a Sony brand Playstation 3 and a copy of video game Rock Band 3 along with all equipment suited for said video game. SCP-5895 instances have been given complete freedom to entertain themselves as to occupy and prevent agitation in subjects, but under no circumstances may any instance of SCP-5895 come into contact with a musical instrument. In the scenario an instance comes into contact with or creates a musical instrument, MTF Sigma-88 "Party Poopers" are to be sent within SCP-5895's containment chamber in order to confiscate said musical device. If a delta-class auditory tremor is in progress, it is encouraged that Foundation personnel destroy any instruments, or in severe cases, attempt to detain and sedate instances of SCP-5895.

Other side of the aforementioned album, giving names of songs.

Description: SCP-5895 is a collection of multi-colored humanoid entities with inconsistent body proportions hereby referred to as SCP-5895-1 through 3. When an instance of SCP-5895 comes into contact with a musical instrument, it will proceed to play at volumes disproportionate to the volume said instrument could conceivably produce. If all instances are to play music in unison, anomalous movement in Earth's tectonic plates occurs, tying SCP-5895 directly to volcanic activity throughout the planet. This is referred to as a delta-class auditory tremor. Additionally, sounds emanating from the effects of SCP-5895 can be noted as extending anywhere from 10-25 kilometers. Listening to said audio is known to cause mild temporary synesthesia. Each instance of SCP-5895 is extremely social and enjoy talking to each other as well as Foundation staff on site. Occasionally, instances of SCP-5895 have been noted to create musical instruments through unexplained means. While effective in creating noise, SCP-5895 instances do not seem to enjoy using them, and only seem to create instruments when in states of depression or boredom.

BEGIN INTERVIEW LOG 12-C
SCP-5895-1 is escorted into an empty soundproof room, with Dr. Alex Merzbow telegraphing questions over an intercom
Dr. Merzbow: Good afternoon, 5895-1. Are you ready to begin the interview?
SCP-5895-1: Heyo, doc. Yeah, that's fine.
Dr. Merzbow: Thank you. Please identify yourself.
SCP-5895-1: Why? You know who we are. Samesame and stuff.
Dr. Merzbow: Interesting name. Please identify, simply for the sake of documentation.
SCP-5895-1: Simon. My name is Simon, but as far as I'm concerned here, I'm an "instance" of SCP-5895. Your ways of naming things? Not for me. Me and my bandmates can't ever really decide on a solid name on our band, so we usually change the name every few weeks. It totally sucks for Mort, or who you call "Instance -3", who's in charge of art like promotional posters and stuff. Thanks for letting us express ourselves in other ways.
Dr. Merzbow: No worries. So long as you comply with the requests of personnel, more rewards will come your way. The other day Junior Researcher Harley figured he would give away his old VCR so I suggested that it could be yours in the foreseeable future. You live in a recreational wing of our facility. Tons of VHS tapes there for you to see.
SCP-5895-1: Oh fuck.
Dr. Merzbow: We thought that would have piqued your interest. On with the rest of the interview.
SCP-5895-1: I'm here to answer whatever questions you've got. Better not be lying about the VCR though.
Dr. Merzbow: Do you know where you come from?
SCP-5895-1: While I was fighting these drug lords, I fell into a vat of concentrated punk rock jam.
Several seconds of silence pass.
SCP-5895-1: Ok, you aren't laughing, sorry. My first memory is the same as Mort's and Phil's. Time doesn't pass for us really. Years feel like they go by in seconds. It's what happens when you don't age; my first memory was somewhere in Japan. Must have been a really long time ago because it was barely populated, and there was absolutely no cool tech around. No amps, nothing. Initially as we integrated into society we were seen as these super important beings, but that changed at our first gig. Music just felt right. It feels right. Me and Phil were given guitars and Mort was rocking the bongos. God, we must have attracted the attention of the entire country. We played for a few solid days, and nobody seemed to mind. I remember laughing when some guy told me how delicious our sound was. It was a nice time until it wasn't.
Dr. Merzbow: What happened?
SCP-5895-1: I'm getting there, slow your roll. The ground began to shake. Us playing on a beach is less than ideal, considering how awfully our zone was trashed by that killer wave. Shit was a tragedy. We went from being gods to the harbingers of doom. It sort of sucked, but we were mainly just bummed out because we couldn't play anything anymore. We're down to play near water again, but yeah. We have a better plan now for tsunamis.
Dr. Merzbow: Do you feel remorse for the homes and environment your "gigs" cause?
SCP-5895-1: Truth be told, no. The planet is big, gonna take a while before you guys don't feel like it's worth protecting anymore. I'd rather be a matchstick than a lighter. I like to see the wood curl up and burn. The more we jam out, the hotter it gets. You're just upset because we'd be killing you faster than you've already been killing yourselves.
Dr. Merzbow: Ah. I see. Do you have memories of every single show you have performed?
SCP-5895-1: God yes. It's hard to forget them, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Neither would Mort and Phil. Our best show? Pompeii, for sure. Damn, it was raining rocks. Easily our highest point. Nobody expected it either, we played so punky and loud. The whole city was covered in ash by the time we were done. Metal. We've sort of been chasing that high ever since then. Our last show was underwhelming. Probably our biggest disaster was Mount Saint Helens. We didn't even know that its top was gonna come off. Don't get me wrong, it was cool and interesting, but our instruments got completely trashed. We have a plan though. A really good one.
Dr. Merzbow: Oh? Tell me more.
SCP-5895-1: Yellowstone.
Dr. Merzbow: I see. How do you plan to pull a stunt like that off?
SCP-5895-1: Wouldn't you like to know? This interview is over, dawg. We play loud, and we play proud. When we get to Wyoming? Shit is gonna be explosive.
> SCP-5895-1 is captured making a drumbeat of sorts with the bottom of its chair. Microphone audio quickly becomes inaudible as MTF are escorted into the room to detain SCP-5895-1. Under no circumstances is SCP-5895 to be within 700 kilometers of Yellowstone National Park. Relocation to Oceanic Site Alpha-7 pending.
[END LOG]]

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4/5896 LEVEL 4/5896
CLASSIFIED

Item #: SCP-5896
Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: All SCP-5896-1 instances are to be stored within deep freeze storage to prevent the growth of SCP-5896-2. In the event of an electrical or mechanical failure in an SCP-5896-1 occupied freezer, the subject must be transferred immediately to the nearest freezer capable of producing temperatures below -47°C.
Foundation agents embedded within retirement homes are to intercept all attempted deliveries of instances of SCP-5896 and to retrieve critical resources. All physical instances of SCP-5896 are stored within standardized small anomalous object containers for further use in testing. All testing of SCP-5896 is to be overseen by and approved by head researcher Dr. Reynolds. Digital instances of SCP-5896 are to be scrubbed from the internet as soon as any are identified. Any mention of "Windows 95 for Elders" is to be discredited and/or explained as an internet hoax using cover story 34-Zeta. SCP-5896-2 instances should be surgically removed from every SCP-5896-1 instance every two weeks and temporarily stored within the Site-79 janitorial sector for off site disposal. Should a SCP-5896-1 instance stop developing instances of SCP-5896-2, head researcher Dr. Reynolds is to be notified immediately. As of 21/07/2016 all transport of SCP-5896 or SCP-5896-2 instances outside of Site-79 is prohibited. As of 15/08/2016 all surgical removal of SCP-5896-2 instances is prohibited. All use of SCP-5896 must be approved by three members of the Ethics Committee beforehand. All use of SCP-5896-2 will result in immediate termination of employment.
Description: SCP-5896 refers to the Windows 95 for Elders operating system created by Slum's Computing.1 Physical versions of SCP-5896 are most commonly printed on CD-ROMs, 3.5 inch floppy discs, and 5 inch floppy discs. Aside from its anomalous properties, SCP-5896 is functionally identical to the Windows 95 operating system with various minor cosmetic changes. Through numerous tests it has been discovered that SCP-5896's anomalous effects will only manifest if a subject, ages 65 and above, drills a hole approximately 3.5 millimeters in diameter into their skull while installing SCP-5896. While SCP-5896 is capable of affecting subjects under the age of 65, these subjects will be quickly terminated via an electrical shock generated by unknown means.
Physical SCP-5896 instances come bundled with a Windows 95 user manual with a single page added describing how to properly install SCP-5896, leading to the creation of a biomechanical organism designated as SCP-5896-1. A 3.5 millimeter cable composed of copper wiring and brain matter extends from the computer's motherboard into the instance's brain, serving the purpose of data transfer between the SCP-5896-1 instance and computer. Occasionally, various computer components will grow within SCP-5896-1 instances; these components often are visible beneath the instance's skin, these growths have been designated as SCP-5896-2. Currently there are 500 instances of SCP-5896-1 within Foundation custody stored at Site-79; to date only 5 instances of SCP-5896-1 have been discovered outside of Foundation custody. SCP-5896-1 instances frequently produce text files expressing pain and requests for termination; personnel are expected to ignore them.
SCP-5896-2 are tumorous growths that develop within every SCP-5896-1 instance, and may cause brain death in its host if not removed within two weeks. On average, each SCP-5896-1 instance will host 7 instances of SCP-5896-2. No method has been found to arrest the growth of SCP-5896-2 instances. Excised instances of SCP-5896-2 are roughly spherical and 1 meter in diameter. They are able to anomalously host up to 1 petabyte of data each and can interface with all known wired data-transfer standards through traumatic insertion. Once connected to a computer SCP-5896-2 instances appear as a nameless hard drive.
Maximum storage capacity of SCP-5896-2 instances will change depending on how long they are left attached to SCP-5896-1 instances. The highest recorded storage capacity is 50 petabytes after an SCP-5896-2 instance had been left to develop for a year. SCP-5896-2 instances will become much more unstable as they develop; because of this the previously mentioned SCP-5896-2 instance will sporadically delete files stored on it. The highest stable maximum storage capacity is 20 terabytes after an SCP-5896-2 instance is able to develop for 2 weeks.

Statement regarding recent events

The former head researcher, Dr. Reynolds, has had his employment terminated due to various breaches in both ethical and professional standards. These violations in standards include unapproved transport of numerous anomalous objects, creation of numerous anomalous objects without approval from site management, wasteful use of critical resources, intentional inclusion of incorrect information in SCP documentation, use of anomalous objects for profit, and black market sale of anomalous objects. Due to the gross misuse of SCP-5896, it has come under the custody of the Ethics Committee. Foundation personnel found to be assisting Dr. Reynolds and/or purchasing SCP-5896 instances have been placed on a 7 month probation; further breaches in conduct will result in termination of employment.

Footnotes
1. A computing company that creates various anomalous programs and products.

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