Item #: SCP-8298
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8298 has been disabled until qualified staff are trained in its operation and procedure. In the event SCP-8298 is re-enabled, Incidents perpetrated by SCP-8298-1 are to be monitored and witnesses amnesticised as needed.
Description: SCP-8298 is the designation given to a pseudo-anomalous utility system created by the Department of Psionics, with its primary objective being to disrupt paranatural events.
SCP-8298 operates through a series of sonar-based relays, passively recording fluctuations in psionic energy before activating in situations where a selected psionic output is created. Following detection, the secondary mechanism of SCP-8298 activates.
Ionic Actualization-3 waves are created by an amplifying generator before being directed to the location of an incident by SCP-8298's quasi-psionic controller. Upon arrival, this psionic energy interacts through constructive interference with psionic residue to form an SCP-8298-1 Instance. SCP-8298-1 entities are capable of serving a number of functions and following basic commands imparted by the quasi-psionic controller. Current use and experimentation have been limited to automated QRF by Human Resources.
Within the bounds of QRF SCP-8298-1, entities act as permeable batteries, being composed and capable of storing large amounts of amplified psionic energy.
Upon initial activation, 7,523 civilians were killed by entities created by SCP-8298.
Addendum SCP-8298.1: While an exact understanding of the reason is unknown, following the original activation of SCP-8298, it became clear that SCP-8298-1 entities were responsible for unacceptable casualty rates. Yearly additional deaths resulting from this error are predicted to be 60% higher than initial estimates.
Location: Haven cafe and bakery. Exeter, UK.
Senior Researcher Nicias sets her phone down on the table. Professor Okonkwo had received the preliminary reports that SCP-8298's death count far exceeded expectations. This prompted a phone call to Senior researcher Nicias that included a considerable number of threats.
R. Cobalt: I'm sure someone would've made a fuss if I brought the blueprints. Breach some secrecy, piss off Nomel at the very least.
SR. Nicias: You would do that, wouldn't you. Honestly, we would've eaten on site today if I knew we'd be dealing with this on our break.
R. Cobalt: You know it's karma for breaking for lunch right before that report finished compiling, right?
SR. Nicias sips from their glass of water while giving an affirmative head tilt. She suppresses a sputtering laugh in her glass before exchanging a knowing glance with Researcher Cobalt .
SR. Nicias: Right next time, I'll just hide in a janitorial closet until the steam coming out of Olivine's ears runs the dam. Oh well, I'm glad we're here. It's nice out today, isn't it?
R. Cobalt, who was licking the remains of some food off their fingers.
R. Cobalt: That's so like you, isn't it. hiding until she calms down. Maybe we should just stop doing things to make her mad.
SR. Nicias: Please, we'd never get any work done if we did that.
R. Cobalt: Well, we can't now anyway, or she might try and deliver on some of those threats.
SR. Nicias: God, you heard that? Honestly, she almost has me doubting my own machine.
R. Cobalt: I know you had asked me not to, but I could've made sure we were running at a lower capacity before we left. I could've eased your worry, at least a little bit.
SR. Nicias: It's ok, Ann. It's the decisive act. We have to start like this and work our way back. If we turned it on and it only stopped 5 attacks, that wouldn't prove anything. Did you hear what she said? 324. That's groundbreaking.
R. Cobalt: I caught it, I've been thinking about the trade-off of that number though. If the cost of it is low enough to justify, compared to doing nothing at all.
Addendum SCP-8298.2: Following the initial concerns raised regarding SCP-8298, the Department of Psionics has begun work on several hardware and software updates to SCP-8298. The results of these changes and the data recovered from SCP-8298-1 entities regarding their response to incidents have been maintained below.
Utility Log
Incidents Resolved: 324
Cost to Special Capital Incurred: 7,523
Information recovered from SCP-8298 relay translator
Times change. Day becomes night becomes deep morning black. The clock hums ever on, mechanics replaced by electricity through advancement, and here listening to that hum. They stand behind a counter waiting for time to move just a little more.
They will be frozen in that time. Time itself, waiting, waiting, waiting. Distorts the air, the shelves, the lights. Colors, as if your eyes were pressed upon, spark and streak. They stand watching. The look on their face morphs into interest, confusion, and horror as time passes, as they become aware. The hum of electricity becomes the ticking of a clock. The clock has regressed, mechanisms, blending with circuitry.
The lights that were flickering and forming became cracks, rips opening into a void of swirling colors. It pours out like water, sickly colors, inconsistent in all forms and responses to gravity.
They're stuck in the corner behind their station as the shadows begin to form around them, cleaners alerted by the deepest corners of their mind. Summoned by a far-off machine controlled by small people. The cleaners are quick, washing over the counter into the fray of the sickness. Arms, hands, heads, bodies groping outwards from the flood. Grabbing at, consuming the liquid, the lights, the noise into itself. The room obscured, filled with an inky black darkness that disperses soon after. Nothing is left.
Location: Applied Psionics Laboratory, Site-12
Several days following the initial trial of SCP-8298.
A small model utilizing the same technologies as SCP-8298 sits on a workbench. This model, which is made up of a short-range psionic detection device paired with an amplifier akin to SCP-8298's previously acted as a prototype but now acts as a base for experimentation.
SR. Nicias: See, I should be able to… Ah yes.
A small cup of tea forms on the desk, SR. Nicias waves her hand through it as it is incorporeal. The cup of tea has become a recurring object for both R. Cobalt and her as a safe default when testing psionic actualization systems.
R. Cobalt: So, you did lock onto that. Guess what I was thinking about there.
SR. Nicias: [A red node of light appears on a computerized matrix.] Oh, that's cute. That was 3-20, though. Let's raise it back to 3-100
R. Cobalt, who is sitting in front of the model, turns it off, and the cup of tea disappears.
R. Cobalt: Swapping back now. Increasing White count capacity back to 3-100. Power on. Watch your hand, please.
The amplifier is turned back on, and an audible ground buzz is heard under the higher power load. The cup of tea reappears in the same spot, though it looks the same. Nicias does not touch it; she grabs a metal rod from the table before poking the image with it. The rod appears to phase through the cup of tea, but when she pulls back the rod is noticeably shorter.
SR. Nicias: Lovely, thank you. [The cup of tea disappears once again. This time, as Nicias unauthorizes IA3-100 capability for residual affection.] I think that was the last check before we ship it off again.
R. Cobalt: I think we were done 20 minutes ago, and you just like messing around with your electronics.
SR. Nicias: Oh, you know me too well. [The prototype shuts down as Nicias terminates the program.] So, it's… 8:30, how about some dinner? On me.
Utility Log
Incidents Resolved: 17
Cost to Special Capital Incurred: 180
Information recovered from SCP-8298 relay translator
The image of a funeral home, small like the rest of the Midwest town. The community has gathered in reverence for someone's life. For some, it's a formality. A kindness granted to support those close to the man who had touched the lives of so many around that small town. For others, the very depths of their hearts were ripped and torn the day of his passing. Brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. The ones that have stuck with him and who he has returned the same to throughout the years, even as people left for brighter futures. A grand man who will be missed, a beacon of his community.
The ceilings are low in the small room, a modern building tucked on a side road not far from where the man had lived for years before. It's been several days since the man passed, found alone in his home after missing church one Sunday morning. Yet above the coffin, death hangs in the air, as if to reap his soul at that very moment. A hand stretched out, hanging down the black cloak covering his arms. Hands that are strong and measured. One to take the hand of another, a gentle guide. Another to wield his blade, a long sword carried with strength and solemnness, knowing the cost of its use. The hands have grown weary with age, as death has always played a role in life, has always come even to men who stand as tall as the man in the coffin.
The gentle hand of death reaches out, pulling on the shirt of the deceased. His body beginning to rise ever so slowly out of the coffin, pulled by an invisible force, like a puppet with a string through its heart. The specter of death begins to manifest, shedding its spiritual incorporeality; the black robes flow, swaying as if in a breeze, responding to the disturbances he has caused in the air. A hallucination of the unreal given form, as panic begins to sweep the room.
The panic rings out into the world like a beacon, the fear mixing with grief sounding above the screams of shock. Some sprint for the doors, others struck by the image of death forming above the man, stand in place, frozen in awe. They watch as death envelops the man's body, bringing him into the next life or obscuring him in its infinite berth.
The room is alight with activity, chairs have been knocked over, and some of the gathered masses have managed to evacuate. The signature of the event has been realized, fear and grief evolving into the unimaginable. The room, so short and small, begins to swirl, dark corners grow bigger, the floor deepens in tone as the shadows of feet and bodies expand to fill the voids of beige carpet.
The pitch blackness, deeper even than the robes of death, begins to grow, filling the room, swallowing up everything in its path until nothing is left and all is obscured. The door is blocked by a being, and the size of its shadow as the room is cleansed of the unnatural. The doors slam shut as it all subsides. Inside the room, the beings disappear back into the corners of walls that have been scraped clean; all that is left is death above the remnants of an altar where a coffin had once rested. The Spector an unwilling witness to a massacre caused by its mere existence. The sword in his strong hand trembles at the injustice. People taken in grief before their time. He will mourn them if they can be found. The sword stops trembling as his grip tightens and death disappears.
Automated Security Message
Good evening, Dr. Sandra Nicias. Motion has been detected in several areas in and around The Psionics Department outside of standard operating hours. Attached: video files taken from that time.
22:34 Project Lead Nicias is seen entering the psionics department. Foundation terminals note that she is not clocked and had previously requested the day off to attend to "personal matters."
22:36-22:37 PL. Nicias uses her keycard to gain access to her office, where she recovers her issued laptop, a roll of electrical tape, and R. Cobalt's gloves.
22:38-22:39 PL. Nicias enters the applied psionics laboratory and sets her belongings on the workbench with the prototype of SCP-8298.
22:40-01:07 PL. Nicias remains inside the applied psionics laboratory for several hours. This time is primarily spent on her laptop; program history shows several commits pushed to SCP-8298's command repository; however, none are run.
01:07-01:10 A cup of tea appears on the table beside Nicias. Though similar to those previously created, the glass is noticeably more beige. She does not touch it before it begins to deform into a swirling puddle of black liquid. The result of several commands being entered.
01:10-01:15 PL. Nicias exits the laboratory and places her effects back inside her office before leaving the facility.
Similar incidents are recorded over the following three nights. On the last night, the commands being stored on SCP-8298 are executed, and the system is rebooted with an updated operational guideline and targeting algorithm.
Utility Log
Incidents Resolved: 0
Cost to Special Capital Incurred: 654
Information recovered from SCP-8298 relay translator
It's a weakness to her. The needling itch of the substance stashed deep in her bag, hidden in a pocket created by ripped seams. The dreariness of the streets, bright to others, but to her always covered in a thick grey fog. Like rain that never stops, dampening the sky and weighing her thick clothes down as she's soaked through to the skin. A cold sweat.
The dull drag of the day, wandering from place to place, untethered and purposeless. Standing for hours on the side of the road or sitting in the shade of a park. Nothing happens, yet the itch grows. It's poking and prodding incessantly at her back, the back of her mind.
The park's beauty is lost on her. The light filtering through the leaves of an oak tree above her, and the cool shadows it provides to her. Instead, the color is washed away, washed away without remembrance. Washed away, like the colors of the day that intensify beyond her sight in the evening before night arrives.
She has to leave the park. It's too flat, open, and public for her to stay; if she did, cops would be called. The red and blue lights of their cars always quick to appear, around corners, reflections casting off windows as they approach.
She moves to the allies of downtown. She's untrusting of the people, her companions, around at night, but it is better than being alone. Bill and Steven, two older men who served in the military, sit side by side against a wall. Battle buddies who always watch over each other's shoulders. Abigail is nearby, resting on a fire escape platform, her experiences alone on the streets of this town a subtle influence on where she rests at night. The creaks that follow her own shifting in her sleep jolt her awake, but she does not mind.
Lastly, the lone woman walking into the alley, dragging that heavy bag she's had for years, heading to her normal spot near where the alley opens into a parking lot to settle in for the night. The scrape of her back as she lies into the wall before sinking to the floor alerts Bill's watchful eyes for a second, cutting through the haze of night like a raccoon watching from the woods, but unlike those watchful animals. His interest in the noise does not last as he remembers the woman who sits in that spot every night.
She's made a promise to herself, like breaking a fast at the end of the day. She reaches for a small bottle, the bottle stuffed deep in her bag. The itch that haunts her during the day, at least she can alleviate it before she goes to sleep each night. The bottle cupped in her hands, a small trinket that holds so much. She looks at it for a second before deciding that she cannot look anymore and opens it. a small pill tumbles out into her palm.
Before she can finish her nightly ritual, she hears a yell at her side. She whips her head to her side to see streaking shadows approaching her. Bill is on his feet, panic on his face as he watches the ground below him shift and mutate. His role as an accomplice is not ignored by the shadow's instructions. Hands pull him into the soup of the ground, as a face and body appear before him, its inky form in a silent scream. Steven, who was jolted awake but not a conspirator, pulls away from Bill, terrified. His feet are telling him to run, but he's stuck in place, eyes locked on the ground Bill had been sitting on moments before. The Shadows continue down the alley towards the woman. She tries to jump to her feet, but she's too slow. The shadows have reached her, and the flood consumes her.
Addendum SCP-8298.3: Following Utility Log-8298.3, concerns of tampering were raised regarding the apparent targeting of civilians. The investigation that followed found that Project Lead Nicias had not only taken total authority over SCP-8298 but had begun to use it as a tool to carry out executions on those with any sort of criminal intent. PL. Nicias has been taken into custody by Site-12's security. A log of the initial interrogation has been preserved below.
Video Log
Witnesses Present:
Dante Byrd (Remote Witness);
Agent Anthony Nomel (Security);
Interviewer: Ethics Committee Liaison, The Honorable Katherine Owens;
Interviewee: Project lead, Sandra Nicias.
Begin Log
ECL. Owens enters the interrogation chamber, placing her personal effects on the ground beside the table. She remains standing.
ECL. Owens: Would you be willing to reveal a bit more about SCP-8298 to me? Beyond your primary documentation, the technical documentation was rather brief; I'm sure you have instead chosen to keep the intricacies of its construction for internal department use.
PL. Nicias: I can't imagine that technology is of any interest to you, Miss Owens. If it's for the record, I can acquiesce. However, I'd prefer to keep as much information about the project under wraps. I'm sure you can understand, given how little we hear of your own work.
ECL. Owens: That is accurate. However, the utilization of Foundation resources for any project is for the total good of The Foundation, and so all relevant information should be shared and documented. You should know, this project has garnered the attention of several departments.
PL. Nicias: Only good things, I hope?
ECL. Owens: No. Though the good and bad have become subject to their own debate. For example, I would gladly turn a blind eye to being rid of low-level anomalies as they occur as a life-saving measure. Others believe that the cost you have incurred for that has been too high.
PL. Nicias: If, on a matter of ethics, I have the approval of- I assume your thoughts reflect your committee as a whole- The Ethics Committee, I fail to see why we are sitting here.
ECL. Owens sits before pulling a series of documents from the bag beside the table.
ECL. Owens: I surely hope not.
PL. Nicias: I am being more honest than you may think. Following the initial run, all that was asked of me was to make SCP-8298 more accurate, a request I had been obliging.
ECL. Owens: Firstly, it is worth mentioning that both of us are aware that you are ignoring the end results of your escapades. Secondly, the ethics committee has reviewed the initial utilization of SCP-8298, and while the cost of human capital was unacceptable, alongside a third party, we had determined that the benefit of the technology, should it be improved, outweighed that cost.
PL. Nicias: And I appreciate being allowed to continue operations. Though a third party was not mentioned to me. May I ask who?
ECL Owens presses the unmute button on the table's conference phone.
Dante Byrd: Following the initial test, we had considered investing our resources into the project. However, we were concerned that, given your personal involvement with Ms. Cobalt, you could be swayed from loyalty to the foundation. These concerns, of course, have been proven right.
PL. Nicias: And now, you want to know how SCP-8298 works. Surely, there's no writing on the walls.
ECL. Owens: I do think you thought the same at some point. SCP-8298 was originally a tool for anomaly prevention, and it could've evolved far beyond that, but you decided to abandon that mission
PL. Nicias: Are you going to pretend like Ann's autopsy report isn't in that pile of papers? When she passed, I realized that we could do more. Why should I allow shit like that to happen when I have the means to put a stop to it? It's not like there's anything malicious about wanting to stop criminality from taking hold. The machine would only activate once their minds decided that they would commit to their sick actions. I stopped Murderers and Rapists. You understand why it had to be done.
Dante Byrd: It's not our place to police out of altruism; even then, your actions can hardly be construed as anything but reckless revenge. We are saddened by the loss of Researcher Cobalt, but this behavior is unacceptable.
PL. Nicias places her head in her hands.
ECL. Owens: Nicias. Did you know this would happen?
PL. Nicias: Eventually. I thought that I would have enough time, and enough impact that you could see that my actions were for the best. I didn't know I was being watched so closely. Why didn't you tell me?
ECL. Owens: I'm surprised. The Foundation is its own circle of accountability. You should've known better; you shouldn't need to know you're being watched.
PL. Nicias: So… what will happen to my machine when I'm gone?
ECL. Owens: That's for you to decide, but you will not be retired yet. We are watching and will only be watching closer from now on, however -
Dante Byrd: It had been decided before this meeting that the technology was still valuable to us. You will be allowed to return to your post under my supervision so that we can optimize this technology to the limit of its feasibility.
In the hallway outside of the interrogation room, a previously unidentified spectral entity has begun to appear. Agent Nomel, who had been stationed outside the door, notices the occurrence.
A. Nomel: [To Site Control] This is Nomel. Check section 4-B. We've got a problem. Not sure of the nature, possible breach.
The entity, which had previously been translucent, has finished an act akin to solidifying or un-phasing. Its anatomy is skeletal in nature, and it appears to cover itself with a long black cloak or gown. Alongside the formation of the entity, an arming sword akin to those forged in the 15th century has appeared in its hand.
A. Nomel enters the interrogation room and unlocks the cuffs on PL Nicias's hands.
ECL. Owens: Excuse me Anthony, but we are not quite finished here. We still have to arrange-
A. Nomel: My apologies, Ma'am. However, we're in a possible containment breach and need to leave now. Mrs. Nicias, if you would.
The three of them exit the room. The figure remains where it had previously formed.
Site Control: [Through A Nomel's radio] The anomaly is not one of ours. Proceed with caution; retreat is advised.
PL. Nicias: What the hell is that? [She paces backwards away from the specter. As this occurs, the entity begins to raise the aforementioned sword, coming level to the midsection of PL Nicias.
A. Nomel: That is a great question that we don't have the time to figure out.
The entity begins floating towards the three. The speed at which it approaches increases dramatically as it closes the distance between itself and Foundation staff.
PL. Nicias yells as the entity catches up to them, and the sword stabs through her abdomen. Following her impalement, she collapses to the ground. The sword begins to dematerialize soon after. an Autopsy later revealed that the stabbing, while fatal, would in usual circumstances require an infection, delayed treatment, or Exsanguination to prove so; instead, it is assumed that PL Nicias was killed upon immediate contact with the sword.
A. Nomel: What the hell. [He unholsters his pistol and fires repeatedly at the specter, all projectiles phase through it.]
The entity looks at A. Nomel, before ascending into the ceiling, it is assumed to have disappeared soon after.
End Log
Following Incident SCP-8298.3, Project Lead Nicias has been listed as terminated for crimes against humanity. The Anomaly responsible for her death has been given an investigative designation until more information can be gleaned as to its whereabouts and capabilities; updated containment procedures for SCP-8298 are to be drafted.
Notably, discretionary control of SCP-8298 has been granted to Dante Byrd of the Department of Continuity for use in securing the strategic agenda of The Foundation and the continued preservation of normalcy. SCP-8298 has been disabled until staff from the Department of Continuity can be trained in its operation, and various changes to its software by the late Nicias can be reversed.