Item#: 9099
Level3
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
thaumiel
Disruption Class:
keneq
Risk Class:
caution
Special Containment Procedures: Due to SCP-9099’s remote location, monitoring the surrounding area for trespassers and maintaining a standard controlled entry perimeter is sufficient on-site containment. Satellite and aerial imagery depicting SCP-9099 with enough detail to confirm its size are to be expunged from public sources, with any and all public records indicating that it is a Soviet-era storage silo of unremarkable scale.
Only D-Class personnel with no prior contact with other SCPs or access to any sensitive information may be assigned observation platform duty within SCP-9099. Under no circumstances should personnel not meeting these criteria enter SCP-9099, and no activity other than observation should be undertaken while in SCP-9099. No electronic recording or storage equipment is permitted within SCP-9099. All items brought into SCP-9099 must be directly approved by the head researcher, and D-Class must be checked for contraband before each shift to ensure compliance.
Standard equipment for observation duty includes:
• Pen and journal
• Mechanical timepiece
• Mechanical depth gauge
• Bottled water
• Field rations
• Emergency kit
• Portable latrine
All other items are at the discretion of the head researcher.
At least one D-Class personnel, and preferably up to three when resources permit, are to staff SCP-9099’s observation platform during each rotation cycle. If three or more consecutive rotation cycles are missed, an on-site containment breach should be considered to be in progress. In this instance, SCP-9099 should be sealed, its ladder retracted, and its singular point of egress defended by an aerial assault squad who are to maintain a minimal distance of ten meters from the top of the structure. The structure itself is to be flooded with fatal concentrations of carbon monoxide. The carbon monoxide should not be pumped out until appropriate D-Class personnel are on standby, with testing resumed as quickly as possible.
Update 05/03/████: A petition by former Head Researcher Vogle to keep SCP-9099 permanently flooded with fatal concentrations of carbon monoxide and discontinue active research has been officially denied by an O5 vote of 9 to 3, as this only neutralizes SCP-9099-A instances. The full capabilities of SCP-9099 itself are not yet sufficiently understood to justify passive containment procedures.
Update 05/09/████: As of Incident 9099-108, preference for D-Class is to be given to individuals with below-average intelligence, reasoning, insightfulness, and visual acuity, even when such traits may detract from the quality of test results. D-Class personnel are to be instructed to refrain from looking down in order to avoid vertigo.
Description: SCP-9099 is a concrete silo approximately seventy-five meters in diameter and two hundred and twenty-five meters in height, located approximately seventy kilometers northeast of ████████, Siberia. Though it came under Foundation control after the fall of the Soviet Union, it is not known if it was originally created by the Soviets, as all pertinent GRU-P records were destroyed prior to their dissolution.
Though its brutalist style is consistent with mid-20th-century Soviet architecture, dating methods to confirm its age have all proven inconclusive, and there is otherwise nothing about SCP-9099 itself to suggest a Soviet origin. It is possible that the exterior of SCP-9099 was constructed around a much older structure.
There is no ground-level access to SCP-9099, as SCP-9099 does not possess a ground level. An exterior ladder must be climbed to reach the only entrance at the top of the structure. The interior perimeter of SCP-9099 is ringed by ninety-nine levels of ninety-nine two-meter-wide containment cells, nearly all of which are sealed by a five-centimetre-thick sheet of one-way glass. When the lights inside these cells are off, occupants are not visible to outside observers.
Note that SCP-9099 does not possess any source of electricity or electrical wiring, and each of the caged light fixtures within SCP-9099 contains anomalously piezoluminescent salt crystals. Light emission is stimulated by a continuous, gentle vibration throughout SCP-9099, and terminated by detaching the fixtures from the walls.
The overall design of SCP-9099 is highly suggestive of a panopticon-style prison, and the prevailing hypothesis is that this was its original purpose. In the center of SCP-9099 is an observation platform suspended between three rails. The observation platform will ascend and descend these rails at a rate of one meter per minute, remaining stationary for two separate fifteen-minute periods, causing a full cycle to take eight hours. There is no known method of stopping or altering this cycle, and further attempts to do so are no longer permitted.
The first of the fifteen-minute rest periods is always at the top of the structure, allowing personnel to embark on and disembark from the platform. The second rest period will occur at a random point during the eight-hour cycle. Approximately once every two months on average, this will occur when the observation platform is at ground level. Since SCP-9099 does not possess a ground level, Foundation personnel who disembark from the observation platform during this time are considered irretrievable.
Approximately thirty percent of the time during a typical cycle, at least one cell visible from the observation platform will have its lights on, revealing its occupants. There does not appear to be any obvious patterns as to which cells are illuminated or when. Visible occupants almost invariably take extreme interest in the occupants of the observation platform, maintaining line-of-sight for as long as possible.
It is generally presumed that the same applies to non-visible occupants, as well.
Occupants of SCP-9099 (henceforth SCP-9099-A), are generally humanoid, though typically gaunt, pallid, and hairless with noticeably elongated nails and teeth. Instances of SCP-9099-A universally possess a singular, cyclopean orifice in the center of their foreheads of unclear purpose and origin. Clothing is generally simple, dark linens of premodern but otherwise uncertain make.
The majority of the time, SCP-9099-A are content to simply watch the observer, but they frequently also make threatening or lewd gestures, bang at the glass to get attention, etc. Occassionally, they will even hold up signs or write messages on the glass for observers to read. These messages are typically succinct and cryptic, and observers are instructed to record but otherwise ignore them. Written messages are always in the observer’s native language, and to date, all tests with illiterate D-Class subjects have not produced any written messages.
The current, unconfirmed hypothesis is that some form of quantum observer effect allows SCP-9099-A to gain access to information regarding any entity observing them, and that the one-way glass doors were put in place to mitigate this effect. The seemingly random activation of cell lights within SCP-9099 is presumed to be an unintended development.
If an instance of SCP-9099-A in an illuminated cell is not viewed by a human observer within a rotation cycle, it will remain illuminated for the next cycle, and the total number of new illuminated cells will increase by the square of the previous number of illuminated cells. This compounds quickly, and it appears that the strength of the hypothetical observer effect increases non-linearly. When this effect reaches a critical threshold, capable of occurring in as little as three unobserved cycles with optimal starting conditions, all cells within SCP-9099 will open, and all instances of SCP-9099-A will attempt to breach containment. Raising CO2 within SCP-9099 to fatal levels has proven to be an effective means of reestablishing containment without exposing Foundation personnel to the effects of SCP-9099-A.
Upon resuming observation of SCP-9099, SCP-9099 appears to effectively reset, with all instances of SCP-9099-A being both alive and back within their cells. To date, no cadavers of SCP-9099-A after a containment breach have been recovered. While it is not yet clear precisely what is occurring, the aforementioned quantum observer effects are believed to be involved, with SCP-9099’s wavefunction returning to a stable state to prevent the loss of all conscious observers within it.
It should be noted that several of the messages written by SCP-9099-A at least imply that they recall past asphyxiation.
Addendum: The following is a journal entry taken from D-14409, the most recent D-Class to reach the ground floor of SCP-9099.
- ACCESS GRANTED
Selected Journal Entry
09:15 ~ The platform has begun to descend as scheduled. At least I’m pretty sure it has. A meter a minute isn’t exactly noticeable. No visible SCP-9099-A instances as of yet, but I would like to personally thank the Ethics Committee Liaison who made sure the portable latrine has a privacy tent. Not sure how I’d feel about taking a leak in front of an audience this size.
I guess I should probably thank you for the safety harness, too. It’s a long drop to the bottom, and anomalous or not, the fact that this platform receives absolutely zero maintenance is far from reassuring.
I wasn’t sure what the file meant when it said there was no ground level, but now I can see that there’s no frickin’ ground. It’s just a big black hole at the bottom of the shaft. Why couldn’t you have said that instead of making it sound so cryptic and ominous? I can’t tell how deep it goes, and hopefully I’m not going to find out. And if I do, that’ll be my secret, since you sure as hell aren’t going to send anyone after me.
10:10 ~ Finally got my first instance of SCP-9099-A after nearly an hour. If I’m reading the depth gauge you guys gave me correctly, he’s on Level 77, Cell 32. He’s looking straight up at me, but nothing else. There’s nothing really to distinguish his appearance from the description I was given. I’ll keep an eye on him until either he’s out of sight or he creeps me out too much. If we’re taking bets on which one of us can win a staring contest, my money’s on him.
10:35 ~ I’ve got another one. Level 68, Cell 82. This one’s smiling at me, and rapping his fingers against the glass. I actually heard that before I saw him. Every little noise echoes like hell in here. It’s a constant rat-a-tat-tat. No pauses, no variations in rhythm. I asked him if he wanted something, but he didn’t respond.
Speaking of rhythm, I think the vibrations are getting stronger. I can’t say for sure, but the slow, constant thrumming feels like it’s getting more intense little by little, and I think the salt lamps are just a little bit brighter. Is that normal? It wasn’t mentioned in the briefing.
_11:08 ~_This one appeared straight ahead of me when I came out of the latrine. Level-56, Cell 93. Scared the crap out of me, and I think it was on purpose. I know it’s irrational, since I have no control over this platform, but them gradually coming into view as I descended made it feel like I was the one sneaking up on them.
Has anyone ever caught the exact moment the lights in the cells come on? Anyway, this guy slowly waved at me when I first saw him, but has otherwise done nothing remarkable. I can still hear rat-at-tat-tat guy up there, though the echo’s so strong I can hardly tell he’s above me at all.
11:20 ~ No sighting, but I’ve been staring down into the hole at the bottom of the shaft. I know there are dash-A instances watching all around me, whether I can see them or not, but I can’t shake the feeling that something down there is watching me. I’m worried that if I take my eyes off it, something might come flying up at me or maybe climb up the rails, but also that by staring at it, I’m just pissing it off.
Damnit, why couldn’t you guys have just told me what you know? I know you know more than you’re saying. If it was just a hole, then you would have said that. What did you mean when you said there was no ground level?
11:38 ~ Another one. Level 45, Cell 44. This one looked angry, and he had a sign. The sign said “A fall from this height wouldn’t kill you. Unfortunately,”. I lost the staring contest with him pretty quickly.
12:01 ~ Something just happened. The shaft shook and there was a sudden upswell of air, accompanied by a deep bellowing sound. The platform was rocked back and forth, enough that if I had been near the edge and not harnessed in, I’d have been at risk of falling off.
The lights in the shaft went off for a few seconds, and all of the lights in the cells turned on. Some of the SCP-9099-A instances were definitely holding up signs, but it was over too quickly for me to read any of them.
I’m not sure what that was or if it’s happened before, but if it has, no one ever briefed me on it. If that last sign was anything to go by though, that guy in cell 45-44 knew it was coming. The platform’s still descending at the same rate though, so that hasn’t changed, but the vibration is getting stronger. I’m sure of it now.
12:35 ~ Level 22, Cell 81. This is the first one who isn’t standing. They’re huddled in a kind of fetal position, rocking back and forth, but still looking at me. They look a little skinnier and smaller than most of the others. Definitely the least threatening and most pathetic-looking. I can’t help but wonder how long she’s been in that cell.
12:49 ~ Another message. Level 9, Cell 03. No sign this time, just written on the glass. I’m not going to guess with what. It said, “You See, We See, He Sees. Know; it’s why the rails move so slow,”. The instance itself looks deranged with its face pushed right up against the glass, like it was anticipating something. I can only hope it will be disappointed when I ride past it again in an hour.
13:00 ~ Just staring down again. I think I understand.
13:15 ~ I’ve hit the ground level, the one you said didn’t exist. It’s not a pit at all. There’s a transparent, concave covering over it, with a yellowish-green rim all around the perimeter.
It’s an eye, and it sees me.
It’s seen me this whole time, and now I see it. I can see a little into its mind as it peers into mine. It’s not just an eye; it has a body. I’m sure of it. Some kind of colossal cyclops. Not necessarily a giant from Greek mythology Cyclops, but that eye is attached to something.
The vibration through the structure is its pulse, or its breathing, or some kind of vital rhythm. The more I saw it, the more I understood what it was, the more alive it became. It’s telling me this because the more information it gives me, the more it can take from me.
They, whoever they were, tried to cover up the eye and failed, so they built around it instead. They did what the Foundation is doing, and what the Soviets did before them; they sent in only their most expendable people in the hopes of not losing anyone important or letting crucial information slip.
But it didn’t work then, and it’s not working now.
Every bit of information that they got on this thing, that you’re getting on this thing, came at the cost of it learning about them. To look upon the eye is to be seen by the eye. And once you are seen by the eye, you can’t be unseen. Directing your conscious attention away from a thing is as much an act of observation as looking at it, once you know it’s there. If we look, we make it stronger. If we look away, we still make it stronger, so we might as well look, right?
That’s why all these things, all these people, are still here. And it’s why I’m still here. I’m not going back now. There’s a cell with the glass broken down here on the bottom level, a cell you never mentioned. At first, I was terrified that something was going to come out and attack me, but now I understand that that cell is for me. The eye will be watching me forever now, no matter where I am. If I go back to you guys now, I’ll end up locked up in a cell like that anyway. I know what you’ll do to me. I’m better off becoming a proper dash-A instance now. Can’t say I’m looking forward to you guys gassing me every time you miss a day of testing, but it still beats the alternative. I’d be the eye’s slave over yours any day.
This place isn’t a panopticon; it’s an observatory, and you’re not the ones doing the observing.
See you soon.