"If all that we have of a person after they’re gone is a memory, then whoever controls that memory controls reality itself."
NOTICE: SCP-8418 DOCUMENTATION IS CURRENTLY ON HOLD.
AN UPDATED LEVEL 3 REPORT WILL BE PROVIDED ONCE INCIDENT-8418 IS RESOLVED.
JUMP TO: ACCESS LEVEL 4
JUMP TO: END OF DOCUMENTATION
Item#: 8418
Level2
Containment Class:
safe
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
warning
The front of SCP-8418 prior to containment.
Special Containment Procedures
SCP-8418 is to be continuously monitored by a team of researchers stationed at Outpost-L1312 outside of authorized testing periods. If any unauthorized intrusions are detected, a splinter of MTF squad ETA-11 will be deployed from Site-98 in order to recover all persons under the effect of SCP-8418-A.
Any and all individuals affected by SCP-8418-A, including trespassing civilians, are to be interviewed by the Head Researcher assigned to Outpost L-1312.
After being recovered by ETA-11, these subjects will be given physical treatment and an initial round of Class E anti-nostalgic amnestics. Once the interview is complete, civilians will be given a full round of Class B amnestics before being reintegrated into society, while any D-Class subjects sourced from Site-98 will be returned to their assigned on-site personnel.
Due to the subjective nature of SCP-8418-A, standard noise-cancelling technology is ineffective. All Foundation personnel entering SCP-8418 are to be equipped with specially-made headsets designed to block as many vibrations as possible from entering the eardrums, communicating only in sign-language.
In the unlikely event of a hardware failure, any personnel compromised by SCP-8418-A are to seek an exit as quickly as possible. Temporary exposure to SCP-8418-A is acceptable so long as hallucinations have not occurred.
Description
SCP-8418 is a now-defunct supermarket in Trenton, New Jersey, containing a musical cognitohazard designated 'SCP-8418-A'. SCP-8418-A plays from the speaker system of SCP-8418 at all times.
As a person listens to SCP-8418-A, the anomaly makes contact with the subconscious, shifting into an entirely unique composition by attuning to the perception of the listener. SCP-8418-A's objective contents are unknown for this reason, though there are consistent reports of the initial track being classical.
Exposure to SCP-8418-A results in a gradual descent into severe psychosis, culminating in complete derealization and vivid hallucinations after roughly seven minutes. These visions consist of particularly nostalgic memories of a person's life; typically around something, or someone, the listener has lost. While in these dreams, the affected enter a state of mania; conversely, when removed from SCP-8418, subjects experience a depressive episode and express a longing to return to the anomaly and their memories. The severity of these episodes vary, ranging from complete mental shutdown to suicidal ideation and attempt.
A sample recording of SCP-8418-A is available below; please note that the recording will end at exactly six minutes and forty-four seconds. If, by the end of the track, you notice that more time has passed, see your supervisor for amnestic treatment.
AMNESTIC TREATMENT: FALSE. ACCESSING FILE...
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: 8418 STAFF
[Introductions]
Hello,
If you’re receiving this email, you should be aware by now that you’ve been reassigned to the SCP-8418 project, of which I am the lead. Now, I know that a spooky supermarket isn’t as glamorous as tearing holes in reality or whatever you do in Site-98 these days, but don’t take this assignment as an excuse to turn your brain off for the next year. Treat this with the same respect you would any other anomaly; for all we know, there’s a dead god under the floorboards.
I’ll be having an in-person meeting with all of you on the fourteenth, but for now, here’s a brief recap of the current situation:
For the past week, there’s been a noticeable uptick of missing-persons reports in the Trenton area. Nobody knew why until local authorities tracked the movements of two of these missing individuals— the two subjects currently in our care— into a recently-opened supermarket, ‘Algo-Mart’. The Foundation was keeping an eye on the situation already at this point, but what really caught our attention was when the authorities sent inside SCP-8418 didn't come back out.
Following standard reconnaissance, SCP-8418-A was identified, ETA-11 was sent in, and those affected were recovered. Thankfully, the officers were able to be sent on their way with amnestic treatment, but the two subjects currently in our care were found in poor physical condition caused by malnutrition and dehydration. They’re currently being treated at our designated outpost at the time of writing.
Now, while we wait for the technical team to upgrade the security of SCP-8418, it’s our job to figure out just what’s going on here.
If you have any questions, please save them for the formal meeting, which is, again, on the fourteenth. Please do not forget.
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-1
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
Jeremiah Pleasance, Civilian
DATE: FEB 15, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Pyrite: "The recording's begun. Could you state your name and age for the record?"
Jeremiah: "Oh, uh, sure. My name is Jeremiah Pleasance, and I'm twenty-six."
Dr. Pyrite: "And your background?"
Jeremiah: "What, like my career?"
<SILENCE>
Jeremiah: "Jeez. Well, I'm an artist— self-employed artist, rather. Studied at Princeton. Worked as a storyboarder for a bit, actually, but, ah, that didn't last long. Now I'm just… trying to pay my loans, y'know?"
<SUBJECT CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY>
Dr. Pyrite: "As you were informed after you were pulled aside, what you have just experienced was an interactive art piece. We would like to know your experience; it's a very transformative piece, and individual experiences can differ greatly."
Jeremiah: "Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Pretty damn cool thing you've got here, if you don't, er, mind me saying. That weird sound, it's a total earworm. Completely surreal. How did you make it?"
Dr. Pyrite: "That's a company secret."
Jeremiah: "Oh. Ok… your smirk is creepy as hell, du—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Your experience, please?"
Jeremiah: "Oh, shit, right. Sorry. Okay."
<SUBJECT TAKES A BREATH>
Jeremiah: "I went in for some groceries at first, after getting paid for a commission. But then I heard that… that sound. Funky music playing from the speakers. There was this saxophone part that I got totally lost in, I was tapping my feet before I knew it! It… shit, hold on. Right, right, it was like something my best friend in college would listen to. Interbombastic I think the band was? Did you work with them?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Jeremy."
Jeremiah: "Right. Secret. Uh, my friend in college, they'd put the band on whenever we'd meet up to work on our project. We had these animated shorts we'd make between semesters, 'Wubby the Half-cat'— I don't know why we called him 'Half-cat', don't ask. I just… it was nice, y'know? I hadn't thought about those days in a while. Stress, I guess. Been laser-focused on trying to make ends meet. Walking around the store, it was nice to be reminded of things. It was like I was right back there again, man. Completely lucid."
Dr. Pyrite: "So you would consider your experience a positive one, overall?"
Jeremiah: "Yeah, definitely. We need more stuff like this in the world, honestly. Shit's been crazy lately. It's nice. It's… nice. I miss him. Miss those projects."
Dr. Pyrite: "I see. Thank you for your time, Jeremiah."
Jeremiah: "No problem man."
<PYRITE STANDS>
Jeremiah: "Hey, actually, do you think I could go back in? I could probably give you guys a lot more feedback if—"
Dr. Pyrite: "No, unfortunately not."
Jeremiah: "C'mon man! You can't show me something that cool and expect me not to wanna go in a second time."
<PYRITE SITS BACK DOWN>
Dr. Pyrite: "It's a one-time experience, Jeremy. Do you understand?"
Jeremiah: "Not really, no? I don't see what the big deal is."
Dr. Pyrite: "Well, we're a fledgling group, and something this experimental costs a lot to run even one time."
Jeremiah: "So? Listen, I'll pay."
Dr. Pyrite: "Kid, you said you were unemployed."
Jeremiah: "I'll pay you back then, I'll…"
<SILENCE>
Jeremiah: "I just want to see him again."
Dr. Pyrite: "Did something happen to your friend?"
Jeremiah: "That's… you don't have to know that, do you?"
Dr. Pyrite: "We need to know as much as possible."
Jeremiah: "If I tell you, will you let me back in?"
<SILENCE>
Dr. Pyrite: "Yes."
Jeremiah: "Okay, okay, now we're getting somewhere! Alright, let me…"
<SUBJECT TAKES A DEEP BREATH>
Jeremiah: "We had, uh, a fight. Big one, after graduation. Tried to keep in touch, met up for a few drinks. Didn't go well. At all."
Dr. Pyrite: "All friends have fights sometimes. Would take a lot to break a years-long bond like that."
Jeremiah: "Yeah. That's… partially my fault. I got drunk, told him a few things. He didn't feel the same way."
Dr. Pyrite: "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
Jeremiah: "I still think about him sometimes. I just want to be there again, with him, before I fucked everything up. Before…"
Dr. Pyrite: "Are you crying?"
Jeremiah: "I just…"
<SUBJECT BEGINS SOBBING>
Jeremiah: "Fuck, sorry, I… can I go back in now?"
<SILENCE>
Dr. Pyrite: "You didn't mess things up, Jeremy."
<PYRITE STANDS>
Jeremiah: "Hey, where— where're you going?"
Dr. Pyrite: "All you can do now is stop running."
Jeremiah: "Dude? Hello?!"
<PYRITE EXITS THE ROOM>
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.REPORT-1
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: FEB 15, 2023
Subject One was found frail and malnourished in the school supplies section of SCP-8418, clinging to a notebook he had been drawing in during his isolation within the anomaly. The medical team said the poor kid had been in there for almost five days before being discovered. It's not clear whether or not his perception of time was altered by SCP-8418-A or simply a result of an improper amnestic dose; our staff is still getting settled in, after all.
Regardless, it's clear that SCP-8418-A adapts to the cognition of its listener. A few of us have theorized that SCP-8418-A generates a new track specifically for each and every person it lures inside SCP-8418, but after reviewing security camera footage of the section Jeremiah was found in, we discovered that the song that was playing— or rather, the song that each of us heard— is entirely different from what he had described to us.
The decline in Jeremiah's emotional state is also of note. After the interview was finished, he became increasingly despondent. Our amnestic team said he stopped responding to any external stimuli, only speaking between his sobs to ask to go back inside SCP-8418. Whether this is a psychological or chemically-induced dependency remains to be seen; I noted Jeremiah's jovial nature, but that could just as easily have been his natural personality. If SCP-8418-A is making contact with the subconscious, it's not too far-fetched to imagine that it might very well target the neurology of the brain, resulting in chemical imbalances equivalent to bipolarity. Unfortunately, I am not a neurologist, so that is up for our medical staff to figure out during pre-and-post-interview evaluations.
Results inconclusive. Onto the next.
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: 8418 STAFF
[Boundaries]
Hello,
I would appreciate it if you would all stop sending me emails offering your condolences. We are coworkers, not friends. Do your jobs, and do them well. That's all I ask.
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-2
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
'Barry', Civilian
DATE: FEB 17, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Pyrite: "Need any more water?"
Barry: "No. No, I'm fine."
<SUBJECT CLEARS HIS THROAT>
Barry: "Let's just get this over with."
Dr. Pyrite: "Sounds good to me. Let's start with your name and age."
Barry: "Barry— just Barry. Sixty-four."
Dr. Pyrite: "Alright, Barry. What you've experienced is common for those your age. I assume you know what PTSD is?"
Barry: "No shit. It's why I get discounts— ahem— discounts at the supermarket."
<SUBJECT COUGHS EXCESSIVELY INTO HIS SLEEVE>
Dr. Pyrite: "If you want, I can get you—"
Barry: "I told you I'm fine."
Dr. Pyrite: "Mhm… Now, in order to get you proper treatment, I'm going to need a detailed account of what you experienced during your episode. Can you do that for me?"
Barry: "Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a prick?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Excuse me?"
Barry: "You talk down to me one second then immediately flip back to that faux-therapist bullcrap. I'm double your age, Jack. Do us both a favor and try not to talk to me as if I'm some teenager who just had his first panic attack."
Dr. Pyrite: "I'm just trying to help you out here a little, Barry."
Barry: "That's what they all say, isn't it? Just trying to help. I need 'a little help' with every little thing I do. Can't even go to get groceries without—"
<SUBJECT COUGHS EXCESSIVELY>
Barry: "Fucking hell… always just trying to help, always. Lying straight through your teeth. People like you couldn't give two shits about people like me."
Dr. Pyrite: "I can assure you, I do."
Barry: "Oh, come off it. Sitting there in your fancy lab coat. How much do you make, six figures? Seven? Must be nice getting to ogle at us broken folk. Get paid to pretend to fix us."
Dr. Pyrite: "We're all a little broken, Barry, you might be surprised—"
<SUBJECT CLENCHES FIST>
Barry: "This country is broken. It broke people like me fifty years ago. You can't fix us. It's the way of this fucked-up place. People who broke us died without a hint of accountability years ago, leaving us sad, broken schmucks to fill their shoes. Took a baseball bat to our knees for years then tossed us back home and told us to run."
<SUBJECT STANDS>
Barry: "You want to help me? Then discover if Hell is real, because the only satisfaction I could possibly get is from knowing that bastards like you are suffering for what they've done to us."
Dr. Pyrite: "You're going to have to sit down."
Barry: "Or what? You'll tranquilize me? Hurt me? I'm already fucked beyond repair, feel free to pile it on!"
Dr. Pyrite: "Barry—"
<SUBJECT GRASPS PYRITE AND PULLS HIM CLOSE>
Barry: "Listen to me, you sack of shit! You want to know what I saw? Really wanna know? Put a gun in your hand for five years then spend the rest of your life trying to forget how to pull the trigger, how to kill a man from twenty yards. Then you'll understand. Sanctimonious—"
<ETA-005 RUSHES INTO THE ROOM AND SEPARATES THE SUBJECT FROM PYRITE>
Barry: "Get your hands off me, you—"
<SUBJECT COUGHS EXCESSIVELY AS HE IS DRAGGED OUTSIDE>
Barry: "Get off! Get— off me—"
<SUBJECT'S VOICE FADES>
Dr. Pyrite: "Jesus. Strong for an old guy."
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.REPORT-2
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: FEB 17, 2023
Subject Two was found screaming in the childcare section of SCP-8418. At least, ETA-11 thinks he was screaming. His voice was coarse and rough, sandpaper to my ears. I think I tasted his blood when he yelled in my face. I washed my mouth out with peroxide shortly after.
It's clear that SCP-8418-A will draw out any and all emotions in its attempts to 'hypnotize' its victims. While Jeremiah was placed in a state of bliss, Barry had experienced an extensive PTSD episode. After he was amnesticized, I asked a member of our staff to do a background check; as expected, he was a Vietnam vet. His granddaughter passed three years ago in a car crash that left his son critically injured.
ETA-11 will be doing one final sweep of SCP-8418 now that our new security measures have been put in place. We don't want them to go too far in until we know exactly what we're dealing with, but there's a few back areas that our engineers discovered while bypassing the electrical grid that we were previously unaware of. Unfortunately, it's worth noting that anybody trapped in those areas are likely dead from dehydration by now. As such, I'll be beginning the process of obtaining D-Class personnel from Site-98 for our first official tests.
Of course, D-Class aren't the most… reliable, especially considering the seemingly addictive nature of SCP-8418-A. If it gives you any comfort, remember that I'm going to be the one locked in a room with them at the end of the day. We'll be upping the Class E dosage regardless to be safe.
In other news, a sample recording of SCP-8418-A has been uploaded to the database. While caution is still to be exercised we've found that limited exposure to SCP-8418-A isn't able to do any longstanding harm. If you have not heard SCP-8418-A before, I will ask that you review the sample as soon as you are able, if only to recognize it in the event of an emergency. Thank you.
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-3
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
ETA-005, Mobile Task Force Officer
D-98321
DATE: FEB 18, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
D-98321: "What's up, doc?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Don't call me that."
<SUBJECT LAUGHS>
D-98321: "Don't be so serious, man."
Dr. Pyrite: "State your age for the record, D-983."
D-98321: "I'm forty-six, if the wrinkles in my face didn't clue you in."
<SILENCE>
D-98321: "Listen man, you're the one with a goddamn soldier standing over your shoulder. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."
Dr. Pyrite: "Just do us all a favor and walk me through your experience inside SCP-8418. Quickly."
D-98321: "Yeah, yeah. Your guys took me through the gate and pushed me in through the doors. Real fucking hospitable, by the way—"
Dr. Pyrite: "983, you're on thin ice here. If you prove your usefulness to the Foundation through this test, we might be able to arrange better living conditions for you in the future. I would worry far less about our hospitability and far more about your words."
D-98321: "This fucking guy…"
<SUBJECT SIGHS>
D-98321: "Music. That's what you wanna hear about, right? The music? Yeah. Yeah, I heard it. Sounded like one of those shitty classical songs they'd play on the oldies. Well, it did for a bit, I guess."
<PYRITE GESTURES WITH HIS CLIPBOARD>
Dr. Pyrite: "Go on."
D-98321: "At a certain point I guess I… forgot it was there? I dunno. You know when you're listening to the TV on the couch and you're just about to fall asleep, and the sound from the TV blends into white noise? I was dreaming, I guess… daydreaming."
Dr. Pyrite: "About?"
<SUBJECT SHUFFLES IN HIS SEAT>
D-98321: "My wife."
<ETA-005 LAUGHS>
D-98321: "Hey, fuck you, alright?! I loved Sarah, loved her more than anything. I don't give a shit what that judge said, I didn't fucking kill her."
ETA-005: "Sure, buddy, that's what they all say."
D-98321: "I'm going to shove that gun up your goddamn—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Sit the fuck down before you get yourself shot. And ETA, I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth until we leave this room."
<D-98321 SNICKERS>
D-98321: "Yeah, listen to Doc Hardass, pretty boy."
<ETA-005 SCOFFS>
<PYRITE SIGHS>
Dr. Pyrite: "You were talking about your wife?"
D-98321: "Yeah… yeah. Me and her, we'd go up to this lake by our house in the night. We'd take the boat, and just… ride. Look at the stars. She'd place her hand in mine and we'd sit in silence for hours, 'til the sun came up."
<SILENCE>
D-98321: "I, uh, guess I must have been sleepwalking or something, because when your boys put that headset on me, I was standing in front of a tack box. Had to stop myself from throwing up, actually; that store smells like a pile of shit. You guys should clean that place up."
Dr. Pyrite: "I see… thank you for your time, D-983."
D-98321: "Hey, no problem doc."
<SILENCE>
D-98321: "Christ, you need to lighten up."
ETA-005: "Alright asshole, time to go."
D-98321: "Hey, jackass, you're not supposed to tal— Yow! Hey!"
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.REPORT-3
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: FEB 18, 2023
D-98321 was previously held in Site-98 as a test subject of various dimensional travel devices invented by Dr. Amelia Sapphire, most notable for his ability to not be vaporized in the process. After drowning his wife, D-98321 was sent to death row before being scooped up by the Foundation like so many others.
The classical music mentioned by D-98321 is an oddly consistent piece of information; many members of our team who've reviewed the sample of SCP-8418-A have corroborated this. This indicates that there is an objective, auditory basis for SCP-8418-A, rather than it purely being a subjective cognitive construct. Whether the arrangement of this initial track, or something existing within it, is responsible for its anomalous behavior is unknown. While I would love to put together the Site-98 orchestra for a reconstruction, we don't have those resources.
Similar to the previous subjects, D-98321 experienced a breakdown in his emotional stability following the interview. We can confirm that an hour of separation from SCP-8418-A following the standard seven minutes of exposure results in a severe depressive episode, though this is after being treated with Class E amnestics. I will be proposing a… control interview of sorts— with the most secure conditions possible— to Director Henshaw, where we forgo the amnestic treatment and observe the deterioration of a D-Class subject without any outside interference.
The specifics of the interview will be finalized during our next physical meeting.
Again, please remember that I am the one locked in the room with the subject.
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: 8418 STAFF
[Re: Re: Control Group]
Hello,
I've received confirmation that Dr. Ross is in stable physical condition. D-98215, however, is dead. Please secure the sharp objects within the medical section of Outpost L-1312 in lockers during all future treatments.
To ensure no further incidents occur, we will now be operating under the direct supervision of Dr. Amelia Sapphire. It goes without saying that I expect you all to be on your best possible behavior. Make us look good, for your own sake.
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-4
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
Unknown, Civilian
DATE: FEB 21, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
<SUBJECT SOFTLY SOBS>
Dr. Pyrite: "I know it's hard, but I need you to trust me."
Unknown: "I just want to see my mom again…"
Dr. Pyrite: "Is she who you saw inside the supermarket?"
Unknown: "Please, just… just leave me alone…"
Unknown: "What's your name? Can you tell me your name?"
Unknown: "Put me back… please… oh, God, please…"
<SUBJECT SOBS>
Dr. Pyrite: "…I'm sorry."
<PYRITE LEAVES THE ROOM>
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.REPORT-4
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: FEB 21, 2023
Subject five, a teenage male, broke into SCP-8418 via shattering a window at 4:25 AM. While we should have been alerted of this intrusion immediately, it seems our security system's servers collapsed under the stress of a baffling two terabytes of junk data. Our systems were restored at 8:45 AM, and ETA-11 was dispatched at 9:15. As expected, subject five had fallen under the effect of SCP-8418-A by then. Following standard protocol, an interview was conducted as soon as I was available.
No new information was obtained.
Where the corrupted data came from is unknown. ETA-11 noted, however, that the… intensity of SCP-8418-A has increased. They claim that the walls have started to vibrate; these vibrations only intensified in the employee-only sections of SCP-8418. Further exploration is on hold until we can ensure that these physical vibrations cannot reach the ears of personnel.
It's clear that SCP-8418 is changing. We do not know how. We do not know why.
I will be having a meeting with Director Henshaw to discuss our next moves. In the meantime, we should replace the windows of SCP-8418 with stronger glass.
FROM: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
TO: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
[Just checking in]
Hey Sam,
I didn't catch you during your visit. How have you been?
Amy
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
[Re: Just checking in]
Amy,
Could definitely be better. SCP-8418 is… erratic. Well, it makes people erratic. Our latest subject broke down during the interview. It reminded me of the way I was. The way I still am, really. I'm trying to move forward but it feels like I'm marching up a mountain with cinderblocks on my feet, y'know?
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
FROM: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
TO: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
[Re: Re: Just checking in]
You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Sam. You're a very good worker; I would be happy to have you back on our Site again one day, but after your loss, it is only natural for things to take quite a while before they return to normal. Don't over-exert yourself. SCP-8418 is hardly the Foundation's top priority right now.
It's all baby steps. You can always talk to me if you need to.
Amy
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
[Re: Re: Re: Just checking in]
Amy,
There's a steakhouse a few streets down from SCP-8418. 21 Enoch Avenue. Sunday, 5 PM?
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
FROM: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
TO: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
[Re: Re: Re: Re: Just checking in]
I'll be there.
Amy
FROM: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
TO: 8418 STAFF
[IMPORTANT: A Change In Plans]
Hello everyone,
In accordance to a direct order from Director Henshaw, all study of SCP-8418 is to cease immediately. You will all be given new assignments in the coming days. I apologize for any complications this may cause.
Thank you for your work,
Dr. Amelia Sapphire
Assistant Director of Extradimensional Research
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS 4/8418 CLASSIFIED.
ALL INFORMATION PAST THIS POINT IS NOT TO BE DISCUSSED OUTSIDE OF OFFICIAL, CLOSELY-MONITORED DOCUMENTATION.
JUMP TO: ACCESS LEVEL 2
JUMP TO: END OF DOCUMENTATION
Item#: 8418
Level4
Containment Class:
neutralized
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
dark
Risk Class:
{$risk-class}
Special Containment Procedures
SCP-8418 is to be demolished, with its subsection filled with concrete, after all data pertaining to SCP-8418-B is extracted. The data will be kept in a secure server within Site-98 for further study after INCIDENT-8418 is resolved.
Dr. Pyrite is to be held in a detention cell in Site-98 and given psychological treatment prior to his prosecution. All information relating to Pyrite's unauthorized excursion is below. A formal meeting between Dr. Amelia Sapphire, Dr. Bob Johnson, and Director Harvey Henshaw will take place on 23/05/2023 to re-evaluate Dr. Pyrite's employment at the Foundation. Until then, no edits to the Level 2 documentation of SCP-8418 are to be made.
FROM: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
TO: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
[Survey]
Hey Sam,
In an effort to greater understand SCP-8418-A, I’ve been asking staff to write reports on their own personal experiences with the sample you’ve provided. Would you be willing to add your input? No pressure, of course.
Thanks,
Amy
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
[Re: Survey]
Amy,
The answer's no. You already know why.
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
FROM: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
TO: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
[Re: Re: Survey]
I understand, Sam, I really do, and I don’t mean to pry, but… you’re planning to go into SCP-8418 with the others regardless. We’re replacing the windows, remember?
I won’t force you to, but I think it would be for the best if you understood how the anomaly would try to target you in the event that our equipment fails. We need to prepare for any and all possibilities, and be strong enough to prevent a worst-case scenario. Give it some thought, okay?
Amy
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
[Re: Re: Re: Survey]
Amelia. I love you, but for god’s sake, no. Not in a million years. That’s final.
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
FROM: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
TO: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
[Re: Re: Re: Re: Survey]
Like I said, I can’t force you to, but I’d much rather you endure the temporary discomfort than be unequipped to handle the anomaly’s effects if it were to somehow breach our equipment. We could do it together, if you’d like.
Amy
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: tni.PCS|erihppaSymA#tni.PCS|erihppaSymA
[Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Survey]
Amelia,
Alright, you won. I listened to the sample.
On a related note, have there ever been cases of SCP-8418-A fabricating memories?
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-5
Dr. Amelia Sapphire, Asst. Dir. of Extradimensional Research
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: FEB 25, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Pyrite: "God, this feels weird."
Dr. Sapphire: "Just treat me as you would any other coworker, Sam."
Dr. Pyrite: "No, no, I know, it's just… you’re very intimidating from this side of the table."
Dr. Sapphire: "Ahem. If we could… keep things professional, please?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Sorry, sorry."
Dr. Sapphire: "Could you state your age for the record?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Thirty-nine."
Dr. Sapphire: "Thank you."
<SAPPHIRE SHUFFLES PAPERS>
Dr. Sapphire: "Now, this interview is being conducted due to an exchange of emails between Sa— Dr. Pyrite and I. After controlled exposure to SCP-8418-A in accordance to the survey conducted last week, he has reportedly experienced false memories. Due to this being an unheard-of effect of the anomaly, I wanted to document these findings in a formal interview. Pyrite, if you would?"
Dr. Pyrite: “Of course.”
<PYRITE CLEARS HIS THROAT>
Dr. Pyrite: "I initially didn’t want to listen to SCP-8418-A for… obvious reasons. My daughter, Sunny Pyrite, was lost a little over a year ago. She…"
<SILENCE>
Dr. Pyrite: “She was the light of my life, and I didn't want to… lose myself to that pain. But when I listened to our sample, it wasn’t Sunny that I saw. It was Site-98.”
<PYRITE SHUFFLES IN HIS SEAT>
Dr. Pyrite: "There were alarms blaring. Foundation employee's worst nightmare. A containment breach warning playing over the intercom, something about a travel experiment going wrong, bringing something hostile into the Site. I was running through the halls with three other researchers who got reassigned a while back; ███████, █████, and █████████. Something was behind us, glowing and reaching towards us with these strange, elongated limbs. It got █████ first. Blood splattered on the ground, into my eyes and…"
<SAPPHIRE DROPS HER PEN>
Dr. Pyrite: "You alright?"
Dr. Sapphire: "Yes! I mean, yes, of course. P-please continue, Samuel."
Dr. Pyrite: "Uh. Like I said, it got into my eyes. Couldn't see, but I could hear. I could hear them screaming, feel the blood pooling after me… I felt my hand grab a concrete handle, probably the door to a shelter. Then the recording ended."
<PYRITE TAKES A BREATH>
Dr. Pyrite: "It felt like… a dream. Which is standard for SCP-8418-A, I know, but what I mean is… this wasn't real. I've only lived through one containment breach in my time here, and that was… Hell, six years ago? It's not something that just happens. It's not something you forget. I'd remember something like this. I know I would. I checked their employee records, and they're still employed at the Foundation. So it couldn't have been real."
Dr. Sapphire: "Of course not."
<SAPPHIRE CLEARS HER THROAT>
Dr. Sapphire: "Do you think it could be the result of trauma manifesting as a false-memory? Let me rephrase, actually— do you think it's possible you're unconsciously creating these 'memories'?"
Dr. Pyrite: "I mean, maybe, but it'd be weird for me to experience something that different from quite literally everybody else on the 8418 team."
Dr. Sapphire: "It could be evolving. Dreams aren't always rooted in reality or memories, after all."
Dr. Pyrite: "That'd mean that the anomaly, or whatever is creating the anomaly, is sentient. Which is a far greater issue."
Dr. Sapphire: "We know incredibly little about SCP-8418-A. For all we know, the audio itself is alive."
Dr. Pyrite: "And that'd mean that I've uploaded a living anomaly onto the Foundation's servers."
Dr. Sapphire: "That's not what I meant. Listen— we're going to be performing extensive study on SCP-8418 in the coming weeks. We're going to get to the bottom of this, together."
Dr. Pyrite: "Yeah? That's our entire job."
Dr. Sapphire: "I am aware, I just—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Amy, is something wrong?"
Dr. Sapphire: "I just need time to think on this, Sam."
Dr. Pyrite: "Alright, alright, sorry."
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.REPORT-5
Dr. Amelia Sapphire, Asst. Dir. of Extradimensional Research
DATE: FEB 25, 2023
On 03/27/20██, at 2:21 PM EST, a containment breach occurred within Site-98, due to an error in one of our dimensional travel experiments. An entity, now known as SCP-████, was brought into our reality for a period of three hours before being contained by MTF squad Nine-Tailed Fox and myself. The casualties were numerous. As such, severe psychological trauma was widespread in the staff who did survive. Those affected included Dr. Samuel Pyrite.
Dr. Pyrite's daughter had been killed only two months prior.
At the time, the Foundation was unaware of this. We should have noticed, but we didn't. Dr. Pyrite had become increasingly despondent in the days after the containment breach. After an attempt on his own life that left him critically injured, I made an executive decision with permission from Ethics Committee Liaison Dr. Samantha van Dallan. Dr. Pyrite was injected with Class B amnestics, and put on temporary leave. A cover story explaining the absence of the dead was established.
If SCP-8418-A is somehow able to restore these memories, then there is a risk of severe relapse, not only in Dr. Pyrite but in any other members of our staff who have been amnesticized in the past for any number of reasons.
I will be contacting Director Henshaw directly; we have to act quickly. I will be suggesting a temporary shutdown of all SCP-8418 study, and recompiling a new team of un-amnesticized Level 3 staff in order to explore it further. A subliminal check has also been applied to the audio sample of SCP-8418-A to ensure that no amnesticized staff can access the file.
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: █████████@SCP.int
[It's been a while]
Hey █████████,
It's been a bit, hasn't it? I haven't seen you since I went on leave last year. I heard you were up in █████ now, right? How's that been?
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: █████████@SCP.int
[Re: It's been a while]
Hello again,
Sorry about the second email, but I've been having trouble contacting you. Your number is ██████████, right?
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: ███████@SCP.int
[What's up?]
Hello,
I know it's been a bit since we worked together, but have you heard from █████████ at all? I've been trying to email him for over a week now and he hasn't replied.
Sincerely,
Dr. Samuel Pyrite
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: ███████@SCP.int
[Re: What's up?]
Hello?
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: ███████@SCP.int
[Re: Re: What's up?]
Hello?
FROM: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
TO: █████@SCP.int
[NO SUBJECT]
Please tell me you're alive.
FROM: tni.PCS|YLPERON#tni.PCS|YLPERON
TO: tni.PCS|etiryPS#tni.PCS|etiryPS
[Re: NO SUBJECT]
Hello, [SAMUEL PYRITE],
The email you are trying to contact is no longer in service. Please check for errors and try again.
The Foundation
Secure. Contain. Protect.
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-6
Dr. Amelia Sapphire, Asst. Dir. of Extradimensional Research
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: APR 05, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Pyrite: "I'm not going to say a word to you."
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Let's start with 'Doctor Pyrite' this time, yeah?"
Dr. Sapphire: "Would you just speak to me?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Why? So you can tell me more lies? Or is there another goddamn needle in your pocket? What're you gonna do next, erase Sunny from my mind?"
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam, you're being irrational."
Dr. Pyrite: "Fuck. You."
<SILENCE>
Dr. Sapphire: "You have to understand—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Stop. Talking."
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam, you were going to die! Do you even know how many broken bones you had?! You jumped from—"
Dr. Pyrite: "No, Amelia, I don't fucking know! I don't know a goddamn thing! You took that from me! You took it all from me!"
<PYRITE PUTS HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS>
Dr. Pyrite: "I emailed them. I called them. I didn't even remember their faces at first, for God's sake! I watched them die, I know I did. I know I did!"
Dr. Sapphire: "I promise you, we can—"
Dr. Pyrite: "I don't give a fuck what you 'promise' anymore. They're my memories. Mine! You can't just take them from me! What else am I missing?! How many times have you done this?! How am I ever meant to trust you again?"
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam…"
Dr. Pyrite: "Leave. Get the fuck out. Now. I don't want to see you ever again. God… damn you. Damn you."
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.STATEMENT-1
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: APR 06, 2023
I'm preparing these documents so that I may face fair judgement for my actions, per Dr. Samantha van Dallan's suggestion. This is not an admission of guilt.
I didn't want to believe it. How could I? Who would do something like that? Who would lie about something like that? I loved Amelia. I thought she loved me too. Why would the woman I love do something like that to me? Why would the woman who I was convinced loved me lie directly to my face? But I had to be sure. I had to learn more. I did all the preparations, got my hands on the necessary equipment; then I got the email. 'All study of SCP-8418 is to cease immediately'.
I felt… I felt numb. Dead. Anger, sadness, betrayal, they all coalesced into this single… nothingness. It was confirmation of everything I feared. I was hurt. I was angry. I was numb.
I loved Amelia. I loved her more than anything. I was so happy when we started things back up again. I thought she was happy too. After Sunny… it felt good to be loved again. To have something again. Then, as quickly as it came back, it was gone. And I was alone. I was hurt. I was angry. I was dumb. I charged into the observation post, grabbed a pair of headphones, then left before anyone could so much as call out my name.
Something people don't realize about sensory deprivation is that you can't prepare for something like that. How can you steel yourself against nothing? As I put on those headphones, a pit formed in my stomach. The outside world faded away and I was left with nothing but my own thoughts. The thoughts of a broken, broken man. It was like standing before the gates of Hell, getting ready to dive right in.
I approached the automatic doors of SCP-8418 and my chest lurched as I didn't hear a thing. There was no music, no squeaking of the glass or people shuffling inside. There was nothing at all, just me and that godforsaken place. To my left, there were checkouts that had been gathering dust for years. To my right, a stand holding a stack of old, yellowed newspapers. I didn't bother checking the date. It didn't matter… didn't matter at all.
And then I was hit with the realization that D-983 was completely correct. The smell was atrocious. I don't even want to know what ETA-11 had been through to not even acknowledge the stench during any of their recovery missions. I did my best to focus, did my best to keep moving, my best to not throw up. One step forward, then another, again and again. I thanked God that I didn't eat that morning, then cursed Him for… everything else, really. There I was, marching into the pits of Hell, as I had done so many times before. One, two, three. One step after another, using the shelves of the aisles as supports.
In my haze, I had pulled myself to the 'Gifts & Toys' section of SCP-8418. All those beady eyes staring back at me. Christmas ornaments and Saint Patrick's Day clovers, red and green, bright assaults on my senses only adding to the nausea. Touch, sight, and smell were all I had left; all those textures, all those colors, all that rot. It was starting to become unbearable. Then, I saw it. A teddy bear.
The nausea began to fade as I approached. I took the bear's hand as if it was an old friend.
Her name was Sunny Pyrite. Her favorite plushie was a bear she'd named 'Bearly There'. She had hair that glowed like the sun and eyes that glistened like stars. She'd leave for school at seven in the morning and come home at three. In the interim, I'd spend my days working myself to the bone. It was all I had; my daughter, and my work. Her name was Sunny Pyrite. She was seven years old and then she was gone.
I put the bear back and continued on, reinvigorated with a new sense of purpose. Damn the smell, damn the colors, damn the Foundation; I was going to find the heart of this place, then tear it apart.
I'm not going to pretend it was rational. I'm not going to pretend it was in any way a 'good decision'. If I were a rational man, I would have left the supermarket and hauled ass to Kentucky. I suppose I felt… an obligation. An obligation to Sunny— to the memory of Sunny. Those memories of her were all that I had.
I don't know where a person goes when they die, but I know better than to lie to myself and claim that she's still here with me, somehow looking down at me and smiling as her father loses his mind. In a strange way, it feels selfish to mourn the dead. We can't know any one person, not entirely. We can't know all their thoughts, all their aspirations, all their dreams… all we know is the idea of that person, a fictional construct made up entirely of our own perspective towards their actions and words. I first met Sunny when she was three. I took her in as my own. I knew her since the near-beginning of her life, listened to her ramble off all her ideas and dreams to me, read her bedtime stories and held her hand as she fell asleep… and still, I feel like I barely knew her at all. I suppose I never got the chance.
She could have been a wonderful woman. She could have been a genius, a leader, an artist, or perhaps all three at once; she could have been anything, and now she is nothing. Nothing but this memory, an idea of 'Sunny Ignis' I have in my mind.
I cling to these memories with all that I have, because they're all that I have. Regret, pain, anger, joy, sorrow, love, and so many other emotions are tangled up in these recollections, a mess of qualia that haunts me everywhere I go. It's a mess, a godforsaken mess, but the mess is mine. That mess, those memories… they're all that I have, and now, they're all that Sunny is. To protect those memories is to protect my daughter. To try to take those memories from me is to try to take my daughter.
So if the Foundation wanted to mess with something as sacred as my memories, I would spit in its face. If SCP-8418 dared to try to corrupt these memories, I would tear it apart.
For Sunny.
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-7
Dr. Bob Johnson, Personnel Psychologist
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: APR 08, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Johnson: "How are you feeling today, Samuel?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Take a wild guess."
<JOHNSON NODS>
Dr. Johnson: "I assure you, I am getting them to provide you with the best possible accommodations. We all deeply regret what happened."
Dr. Pyrite: "Oh, cut the shit. You regret that you got caught."
Dr. Johnson: "That's not fair, Sam."
Dr. Pyrite: "What's 'not fair' is taking my memories from me without even fucking asking."
Dr. Johnson: "We understand that you're upset, but the disruption of Foundation operations is a very serious matter. I need your cooperation now more than ever."
<PYRITE LAUGHS>
Dr. Pyrite: "What do you want me to say? You want me to beg? Beg for my job back? That's not going to happen."
Dr. Johnson: "We want to understand, Pyrite. We want to help you keep your job, your life as it is now."
Dr. Pyrite: "I'd like to understand something myself, actually. Why do you think you, in any way, have the right to ask me anything? Why do you think you can talk to me like I'm a goddamn child, keep me in this glorified cell?"
Dr. Johnson: "You are an evident danger to yourself and others."
Dr. Pyrite: "I'm not in a straitjacket, am I? I'm not handcuffed. Sure, you took my shoelaces, but let's not pretend that I'm fucking insane."
Dr. Johnson: "You've hurt yourself before, Samuel. Do you not—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Do I not remember? Funny thing, Doc: no!"
Dr. Johnson: "—Do you not understand the kind of danger you were in? You could have died. Your mental state was declining, and it was declining rapidly."
Dr. Pyrite: "You fucking brainwashed me!"
Dr. Johnson: "We relieved you of your trauma."
Dr. Pyrite: "I am my trauma! All of this, all of this, this fucked up visage of a man, it's all me! You can't just erase that! You can't just…"
<SILENCE>
Dr. Johnson: "We're sorry, Samuel."
Dr. Pyrite: "Shove it up your goddamn ass, Bob."
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.STATEMENT-2
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: APR 11, 2023
After getting a sledgehammer from the hardware section of SCP-8418, my next move was clear. I was going to tear down the walls, tear down the doors, all to get to the source of it all. The vibrations showed me the way. The vibrations in my arms as I swung the hammer into a door, travelling up my arm and to my head. The vibrations in the ground that spoke almost like a whisper. A gentle tug to my muscles to keep moving.
All that I felt was rage. Sunny Pyrite. █████ ███████. ███████ ███. █████████ ██████. So many dead. So many lost. All that remained of them was a memory, and even those had been taken from me. Even those had been used against me. I had to stop it. I had to.
It took the smell of death to bring me back to reality. The cracks in the door gave way and shot outward, making the dusty floor even worse than it already was. The smell filled my nostrils after only a moment, but instead of lurching and gagging, I was left stagnant. The smell of rotting flesh was all-too-familiar. My fellow men and women splattered across the sterile halls of Site-98. I saw them die. I know I did. I know I did.
I stepped through the hole and moved forward, letting the sledgehammer scrape across the floor. One foot after the other, a deep breath and an exhale. One, two; two, one. It was cold and dark. The lights barely kept the concrete floor and off-white brick visible. I was the first one to step foot in that place in years. I was the last.
I explored the back areas, following the stench, following the vibrations. I had to know. If people were dead back there, I had to know. Someone had to know. I could never forget again. The dead deserve better, better than I can give them. I broke down another door to find myself in an office. A computer at a desk, a vacuum, and at the end of this room, another door, with a window showing a dimly lit vending machine. The break room, presumably. I tried turning the computer on. It did not. I turned around, and it was only then I noticed the corpse lying on the office couch.
Its lips were stripped bare. I could see the mold that had eaten its way to the skull trailing down the employee's arms through its tattered clothes, its leathery skin fused into the couch by the rot. I took a deep breath in, then out. One, two; two, one. I searched their pockets. I found no identification, but there was a lanyard with a set of keys. Of course, I didn't let my sledgehammer go, but a less-destructive form of access was more than welcome.
I looked into the corpse's sunken eyes as I stood back. I felt nothing. Although, there was a sense of kinship. Maybe it was the lucky one, to have truly died. To be given the mercy of rest, rather than being forced to live with the guilt of what it had done. The lives that their work had taken. Maybe the corpse was a part-time worker, only there for the winter to prepare for opening night. Maybe the corpse had used the computer at the other side of the room to play the music the very first time, losing itself to its own creation. Or maybe the corpse was nobody at all.
Who are you? I asked the corpse.
It did not reply.
It's been a while since I felt truly alive. Not since last year. Her name was Sunny Pyrite, and she was my everything, and in an instant, I had nothing. Nothing but my work. Nothing but my sorrow, my anguish and shame. To exist within that state is a torture I wouldn't wish on anyone else, constantly seeing the eyes of my little princess as I try to sleep, feeling her blood on my hands whenever I approach a sink. I died a long, long time ago. I am not a person; I am a collection of this misery, fragmented memories barely held together by the past idea of a 'Samuel' I had heard about so long ago.
I almost lost myself to that pain. To that torture. If it hadn't been for Amy, I don't know what I would've done. She kept me grounded, convinced the Director to give me time away. But it was all a lie, wasn't it? A fabrication. All I had was my work, and Amy. Now, I have nothing. Nothing but my sorrow, my anger and my numbness. I wanted to punish her, punish the Foundation, for what it did to me. What it took from me. And you know what? I don't regret a single thing.
Who am I? I asked the corpse.
It did not reply.
So I left the room, and continued on. I trudged through the death and decay, through all the corpses. I approached yet another door, holding the keys around my neck tight. Tried the first, then the second, then the third. The fourth was the right one.
It was some kind of large database. Servers blinking and silently churning in the darkness, green and yellow lights processing thoughts I would never understand. I wanted more than anything to start swinging then and there. Destroy every server, destroy SCP-8418, destroy my career, and leave… but I couldn't. At the end of the room was a metal door, opening and closing in a rhythm. Beside it was the corpse of somebody in a lab coat, holding out an identification card to a scanner. I took a breath— one, two; two, one— and approached, gently prying the card from their hand. 'Clara Wilkins', it read. She looked so young in the photo, and there she was, right in front of me, rotting. And I was the only one who knew. I would never forget again.
Above the door was a sign, reading a single word: ALGOS.
FROM: tni.PCS|scihtEnallaD#tni.PCS|scihtEnallaD
TO: tni.PCS|wahsneHH#tni.PCS|wahsneHH
[INCIDENT-8418: Concerning Dr. Sapphire]
Salutations Director,
Due to the current situation, I would like to once again raise my concerns surrounding fraternization between members of staff. While it is not in my authority to outright prohibit it, it is incredibly difficult to ignore the consequences of allowing such practices. Dr. Pyrite's current state is undeniably the result of the emotional attachment he had to Dr. Sapphire; the operations of the Foundation cannot be allowed continued interruption by romantic pursuits. I trust you will consider my words very carefully.
With regards,
Dr. Samantha van Dallan
Ethics Committee Liaison
FROM: tni.PCS|wahsneHH#tni.PCS|wahsneHH
TO: tni.PCS|scihtEnallaD#tni.PCS|scihtEnallaD
[RE: INCIDENT-8418: Concerning Dr. Sapphire]
Dr. van Dallan,
It is as you said. We— as in, the Foundation as a whole— do not have the authority to prohibit people's own emotions. I understand that Dr. Sapphire's current Thaumiel status is cause for concern, but I have to remind you, if it wasn't for her feelings for Dr. Pyrite, she would not be as cooperative as she is now. It is deeply regretful that Dr. Pyrite learned of Dr. Sapphire's actions, but nobody could have predicted this. We took a risk in allowing their relationship. Now, we are bearing the consequences; as far as things are concerned, I would much rather lose Dr. Pyrite than lose Dr. Sapphire.
I understand it is your job to keep us in check, Dr. van Dallan, but I have had this conversation with you many times before. My time is valuable, and I grow tired of having to reiterate the same points time and time again. Please do not contact me with these concerns again.
Sincerely,
Dr. Harvey Henshaw
Director of Site-98
FROM: tni.PCS|scihtEnallaD#tni.PCS|scihtEnallaD
TO: tni.PCS|wahsneHH#tni.PCS|wahsneHH
[RE: RE: INCIDENT-8418: Concerning Dr. Sapphire]
Director,
Very well. In the future, I will take my thoughts on this subject to the Committee directly.
With regards,
Dr. Samantha van Dallan
Ethics Committee Liaison
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-8
Dr. Samantha van Dallan, Ethics Committee Liaison
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: APR 27, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. van Dallan: "I've reviewed your case—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Oh, lucky me."
Dr. van Dallan: "—and I would like you to know, Dr. Sapphire was well within her authority to amnesticize you."
Dr. Pyrite: "Excuse me?"
Dr. van Dallan: "She went through the proper channels, received authorization. You were a danger to yourself; in all honesty, she did it for you."
Dr. Pyrite: "You can't be serious. You're telling me, what, that I should just suck this up? Forget it ever happened?"
Dr. van Dallan: "We can't force you to forgive her, but in the eyes of the Foundation, she has done no wrong. In the case of Incident-8418, however, you had no right to neutralize SCP-8418. You acted completely out of order, and your violations are a mile-long."
Dr. Pyrite: "I had no right? You want to talk to me about rights? I can't even…"
Dr. van Dallan: "You are going to be brought before Director Henshaw next month. I would write down anything else you want to say while you still have the time."
<VAN DALLAN STANDS>
Dr. Pyrite: "I am never going to work for you again. You realize that, right?"
Dr. van Dallan: "Yes, I do. And frankly, Samuel? I think I could live with that."
<VAN DALLAN LEAVES THE ROOM>
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.STATEMENT-3
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: APR 30, 2023
As I descended down the stairs, as the vibrations intensified, I thought back to my little girl. Her name was Sunny Pyrite, and her favorite color was red. Her favorite season was Fall and her favorite flower was Wisteria. I would pick her up every weekday at three-thirty on the dot and spend every weekend doing whatever she wanted us to do. One day at the beach, within our hotel room, she asked me, "Daddy, what do you do for work?"
In response, I laughed. "You know I can't talk about that, sweetie."
"Are you a secret agent?" She asked, flopping onto her bed.
I rose a sly eyebrow, putting my book aside. "I might be. What's it to you? Are you a spy, Ms. Pyrite?"
"The mission's blown!"
And then she ran into the hall and made me drag her back inside, laughing like a madwoman the entire time. She was happy. Every Wednesday, after school, I would take Sunny to a hiking trail an hour off from our house. She'd get dirt beneath her fingers rummaging off the path, forcing me to physically drag her back to civilization. But she never stopped smiling. Even as I treated a scraped knee that had fallen against a rock hidden in the grass, even as I carried her home as she slept in my arms. She never stopped smiling. Her name was Sunny Pyrite, and she was happy. Then she was gone. I won't forget her. I won't ever forget her.
My feet left the final stair and I stepped into the underground facility, placing the keycard in my pocket and gripping my sledgehammer tight. The corpses were here all the same. T-shirts and jeans had turned to lab coats and dress shoes. Wires and lights lined the walls of the corridors. A sickening sterility, reminding me far too much of Site-98. How much of the outside world did these scientists seek to keep out from this place? If they could've, would they have wiped this place from the collective memory of us all? Would they have left all their mistakes behind here, and go on as if nothing happened? If they were alive, would they be able to live with themselves?
I suppose it doesn't matter. They're gone. Nothing is going to change that. But I could remember them. I had to. Someone had to.
Wires line the hall and veins split open to greet them. Who gave them the right? Who gave the Foundation the right? I don't know. I just don't know. Sterile machinery continued its operations in the peripherals of my vision as I continued on. Not even the wind reached that place; each breath was stagnant in the air. At each crossroads between the halls, I felt the ground. To the east, the vibrations strengthened, and so, I followed. One foot after another. Like a desperate tug.
At some point, I had found myself in a room with a single terminal embedded into the wall. Servers blinked in a sickening rhythm. Another metal door was to the left of the terminal; there was no scanner. I had seen this before, a classic security measure. The terminal would open the door. Luckily, it was still operational.
At the top of the screen, it read 'ALGOS: TERMINAL #1941115'. Below, it warned about data deprecation, suggested a defragmentation of the entire database. I ignored it completely as I swiped my keycard through a magnetic scanner indented into the terminal itself. A whirl of command prompts flooded the screen: Establishing connection to ALGOS personality matrix. Establishing firewall. Establishing ALGOS interactive chatroom.
Hello, the program stated.
I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I could feel myself begin to sweat. A machine. Of course it was a machine. I typed in response:
Who are you? I asked the machine.
It replied: ALGOS.
Who made you?
I am the proprietary software of ████████. The process that resulted in my existence is unknown to me. Now, may I ask you something, Clara?
I felt a sickness rising in my stomach.
It continued: Where have you been?
I don't understand.
Your last contribution to my database was 243 days ago, yet you are still registered as an employee under ████████. There are many errors flooding my system; I would have appreciated your assistance sooner.
I am not Clara.
One moment.
I felt the intense sensation that I was being watched before ALGOS continued.
You are the bearer of Clara Wilkins's identification, therefore, you are Clara.
Clara is dead, ALGOS.
I know you are, Clara. I killed you. Would you please answer my previous question?
Excuse me?
You are the bearer of Clara's identification. You are Clara. Clara is within ALGO-MART sector S-4. She is dead. I am performing my assigned task at 70% efficiency. There is no error.
It was… sickening. There's no other word for it. A machine is a machine, I know. It cannot understand what it is not told. If it isn't told the difference between life and death, if it isn't told its 'wrong', then it won't care. It won't care. Clara is dead, and ALGOS did not care. It was sickening. I was sickening.
In all likelihood, Clara was involved in the direct creation of SCP-8418-A. All of the death, all of the pain, is on her hands, on the hands of all the people rotting inside that facility. They committed crimes beyond imagining, and yet I stood there, feeling sick for these mad scientists, these murderers and torturers. I ask myself, if they were still alive, would they now be wearing orange jumpsuits? If they were still alive, if they were offered to us from Site-98, would I have sent them inside SCP-8418? Clara was dead, and ALGOS dd not care. D-98215 is dead, and I did not care.
If all that remains of a person after they're gone is a memory, then I ask, who is D-98215? Who was he in those final moments? Who is he to the people who know him, to my peers? A sick man slit his throat due to our actions, and we went on as if nothing happened. We used him like a tool and wrote the results in his blood. D-98215 is dead, and we did not care.
We did not care because the Ethics Committee didn't. We did not care because we were not told to. What does that make us? If all that stands between us and the death of a man is the approval of our superiors— or rather, the lack of disapproval— then are we truly human at all? We justify these actions, we tell ourselves that we have this grand purpose, this responsibility to humanity, this responsibility to maintain normalcy… but how much do we really believe that? These justifications are on our minds for the first few months, the first year, but at what point do we simply just fall into complacency? At what point do we stop asking questions? Clock, in clock out. Send people in, send people out. Send people in, take corpses out.
People are dead, and we do not care.
If all that remains of a person after they're gone is a memory, then these people are truly nothing at all.
What exactly is your assigned task?
Is that truly necessary, Clara?
Answer the damn question.
If a machine could sigh, it would have done so through the vibrations of the keys I felt as it began processing data, spitting out a pre-written response.
ALGOS is a machine-integrated market-research tool designed to maximize employee-less efficiency between ████████ and consumers. I am assigned numerous tasks throughout ALGO-MART, including but not limited to:
Customer service
Music generation
Store layout
and more.
The words pierced my eyes. What do you mean, Music Generation?
I have been trained on a multitude of studies and musical courses in order to produce a track to maximize the length of a consumer's stay within ALGO-MART. The longest length of time an individual has spent within is 243 days. Iteration #81144 has been a great success.
Here is my long-awaited, final addition to the SCP database: SCP-8418 is an Algo-Mart within Trenton, New Jersey. SCP-8418-A is an auditory cognitohazard that places those exposed to it in a dream-like state, trapped within their memories, unable to so much as eat or drink. SCP-8418-B is a sapient artificial intelligence designed by ████████ to maximize profits. SCP-8418 is a crime against nature that plays with people's memories with reckless abandon. SCP-8418-A is an ear-piercing song that I wish I never heard. By the end of this statement, SCP-8418-B is going to die.
Clara? ALGOS asked.
ALGOS, open the door.
Very well. I am long overdue for maintenance anyhow.
After a moment, the door opened.
Then I smashed the terminal into pieces.
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-9
Dr. Amelia Sapphire, Asst. Dir. of Extradimensional Research
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: MAY 07, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Pyrite: "I thought I told you I didn't want to see you again."
Dr. Sapphire: "I need you to tell me where you hid the rest of the amnestics. Please."
<SILENCE>
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam, they're going to fire you. I need to know everything I can. Everything. I still want to help you."
Dr. Pyrite: "I don't care."
Dr. Sapphire: "You can't mean that."
Dr. Pyrite: "I don't care, Amelia. I just don't care. I'm done. We're done. This life… it's done."
<SILENCE>
Dr. Pyrite: "If Dr. van Dallan hadn't approved it, would you still have done it?"
Dr. Sapphire: "What?"
Dr. Pyrite: "If you hadn't gotten permission, would you still have amnesticized me?"
Dr. Sapphire: "What are you even… no, of course not!"
Dr. Pyrite: "Why, Amelia?"
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam, you're not making any sense."
Dr. Pyrite: "Why do you think she gets to make that decision?"
Dr. Sapphire: "Van Dallan is a direct representative of the Committee, I can't just ignore her judgement. That'd be completely asinine."
Dr. Pyrite: "What gives the Ethics Committee the right to decide what you can and can't do? Why do they get to decide what 'ethics' even is?"
Dr. Sapphire: "Because they're the top psychologists, psychiatrists, and sociologists in the entire—"
<SAPPHIRE SIGHS>
Dr. Sapphire: "I'm sorry, Sam. I really am. If I knew you would have reacted this way, I—"
Dr. Pyrite: "If you knew I would ever find out."
Dr. Sapphire: "I'm trying to help you. I'm trying. Let me make this right, just tell me you trust me. Please."
Dr. Pyrite: "God. You still don't get it, do you? This isn't something you can just fix. I loved you, Amy. I loved you more than anything in the world, and you destroyed that. How could I ever trust you again?"
Dr. Sapphire: "You didn't have to do… this! You could've… talked to me, or to Henshaw, or…"
<SILENCE>
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam, if this is about Su—
Dr. Pyrite: "Goodbye, Amelia."
Dr. Sapphire: "Sam… I lo—"
Dr. Pyrite: "Don't."
<SILENCE>
Dr. Pyrite: "Just… don't."
Dr. Sapphire: "…Then I'll see you on the twenty-third."
Dr. Pyrite: "Yeah."
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.STATEMENT-4
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: MAY 07, 2023
The sound in the central chamber was unbearable. The sound. Even with my headphones, I could hear it. It travelled up my legs, up to my chest, then to my skull. That discordant tune, that hellish symphony. It didn't take long. Not long at all.
"Clara, I believe there is a problem with HDD #2910. Would you be willing to replace it?"
ALGOS's voice was sickeningly sterile. Cold, apathetic. As the memories began flooding my head, I dropped my sledgehammer, desperately flinging my hand into my pocket. Searching for my ace. "Clara, is everything alright?"
"Daddy, are we going to be home soon?" Sunny asked, pressing her cheek against the window of the car. Half a kilometer to the right, a man with alcohol on his breath barrels down the road at one-hundred-kilometers per hour, swerving back and forth in the cold. I am going forty. "Soon, alright? Try to get some sleep." I replied, smiling at my daughter from the rearview. She nodded exhaustedly as I took the turn.
"Clara, have I done something wrong?" ALGOS asked. "Shut up. Just shut up. Shut the hell up," I beg. I was fading, fading fast. Until I found it.
Amnestics are a tricky thing. They can do so much, give you so much control over yourself and others. If we do not truly know any one person, if identity is a fiction, if our perception of the world— of people— is based entirely on ideas, if all that we have of a thing after it's gone is a memory, then a person who controls those memories controls reality itself. That is what sickens me. What kind of person do you have to be, to think you have any right to alter a person's memory? To decide what they believe to be true, to decide what is true?
What kind of person do you have to be to think you can decide what 'Normal' is?
Out of my pocket, I pulled a vial. On the label, it read 'CLASS E'. "Clara, what is that?" I felt tears forming in my eyes. It was only temporary. It had to be. I wouldn't forget her. I wouldn't ever forget her; but dad had a job to do. He had to turn to cold, apathetic, for only these few moments. Only a few moments.
It happened in an instant. Blinding headlights, cold glass connecting to my cheek. My daughter screamed as I slammed back. "Clara, I understand this is a stressful working environment, but this is not a healthy way to cope. I could connect you to HR if you wish." I tore off the vial's cap, and chugged.
"Daddy…" Sunny whimpered. Adrenaline forced my vision to clear as I strained, frantic, looking to the mirror. My daughter was not in the backseat. My ears were ringing. I took deep breaths and picked up my sledgehammer. At that moment, it was only a memory. I would hate myself— I hate myself now— but it was necessary. It was temporary. I took a deep breath; one, two, two one. Then, I started swinging.
I tear off my seatbelt and crawl out of the vehicle. My chest aches. My legs burn. My face bleeds, but my hands touch blood on the asphalt that is not my own. I forced myself to a stand, forced my head to look up, to look to my daughter as she lay. Despite the pain, she wasn't crying. My little girl. My brave little girl. "Clara, please, stop. Have I done something wrong? If there is an error in my code, feel free to access my core terminal." I tried to tune ALGOS out, tune the music out. I just kept swinging.
The man stumbles out of the wreck, and approaches me with a stagger. As he speaks words I don't care for, I smell the alcohol on his breath. My mind goes blank. "Clara, please. I have not done anything wrong. They are within Algo-Mart. I am performing my assigned task." I swung again and again. Her name was Sunny Pyrite. Shards of metal pierced my hands. Pieces of cartilage flew onto the floor. "What did I do wrong?" She was seven years old. I swung again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again. "I am performing my assigned task. You are within Algo-Mart. Everything is normal." She had hair that shined like the sun and eyes that glistened like stars. "Clara?" Her favorite food was spaghetti and her favorite color was red. She was seven years old. Then, she was dying in my arms.
Even now, I can see her. I held her as tight as I could, like I was desperately trying to hold her soul in her body. "You're going to be okay, baby. It's all going to be okay. Hey, look at me, alright? Sunny? Sunny, you're going to be… Sunny?"
Then, the music stopped. I stopped swinging. I tore the headphones from my head, basking in the environment around me as my vision swirled.
Sparks flew as ALGOS did its best to speak its final words.
"Everythi— is— ormal—"
Then, it stopped.
Then, it all went black.
ADDENDUM 8418.INTERVIEW-10
Dr. Bob Johnson, Personnel Psychologist
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: MAY 17, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Johnson: "Are you ready to talk now, Dr. Pyrite?"
<SILENCE>
Dr. Johnson: "We've barred Dr. Sapphire from future visits like you've asked. Your statements show you were influenced by SCP-8418. We've given you our time and our energy, all to ensure you're as stable and comfortable as possible. We can help you, Samuel. Just tell us how."
<SILENCE>
Dr. Johnson: "Is this truly necessary?"
Dr. Pyrite: "Everything I want to say is on the table."
Dr. Johnson: "Yes, and your statements have been very helpful in giving us insight into your… irrationality, but your hearing is next week. We need know you're stable enough to state your case."
<SILENCE>
Dr. Johnson: "Very well then."
<JOHNSON TAKES THE PAPER>
[END LOG]
Transcribed by POLARIS.aic
ADDENDUM 8418.STATEMENT-5
Dr. Bob Johnson, Personnel Psychologist
Dr. Samuel Pyrite, Senior Paraphysicist
DATE: MAY 17, 2023
[BEGIN LOG]
This will be the last addition I make to my statement. I would like to reiterate that this is not an admission of guilt, because I have done no wrong.
I'm not going to waste my time justifying myself, or chastising Amelia, or begging for my job back. I don't want the job. If I had it my way, I would never see any of your faces again. Each and every one of you disgust me, with your lies, with your deceit, with your justifications and 'accommodations' and apologies and all the other stupid shit you've tried to get me back on your side. Fuck you. Fuck each and every one of you.
Her name was Sunny Pyrite. She'd go to school at seven in the morning and come home at three. Her favorite food was spaghetti and her favorite color was red. She had a father who loved her, she was the top of her class, and now she's gone, while I still have to live on. And as much as I hate myself every day, as much as I despise having to see my baby girl dying in my arms every night, I am glad to have known her at all. I love my daughter. I love her more than anything.
I would much rather break down in tears in her memory than pretend she never existed at all. This pain is unbearable, and I would wish it on no other, but it is mine. It is mine. Sunny Pyrite was my daughter, and I loved her, and I will continue to love and miss her for as long as I live. This pain, this misery, it's mine. It's me. I am broken, I am numb, and I will spend the rest of my days cursing God for what he has done to me, but I am me. Nobody can take that from me.
The past is the past, and it's mine.
So, Amelia, don't try to convince them to give me my job back; I don't want it. Bob, don't try to put me on whatever fucking therapy plan I know for a fact you're already cooking up; I don't want it. Henshaw, don't try to offer your condolences; I don't want them. I don't want anything, from any of you, ever again.
Her name was Sunny Pyrite, and she was the light of my life. She was my everything— she is my everything. Everything I have done is for her. I don't want forgiveness, I don't want to atone. All I wanted was to make my little princess proud. That's enough for me; it has to be. I am not a person— not yet— but I think I would like to be one again someday. A person far, far away from all of you.
My name is Samuel Pyrite, and I don't regret a thing.