nights that won't happen
WARNING!
Document features multiple intrusions from an unknown source. These appear to be noospheric in nature, and have proven resistant to all known methods of deletion. They have been marked to indicate where they begin and end. Please take this into account during your reading of the following documentation.
If only they could see you now. You thought you were dead, but you've died a whole lot since. Haven't you?
The home that was investigated.
Item Number: SCP-9319
Object Class: Apollyon
Special Containment Procedures: Noospheric scrapers are currently attempting to eliminate thoughtforms of SCP-9319. Rational thought-based therapy is in place to limit SCP-9319's family's expectations of its capabilities and returns. Amnestics have proven to be insufficient.
Description: SCP-9319 is a loosely-connected series of concepts in the noosphere pertaining to an individual that does not exist. When collected and considered in full, the constructed narrative indicates that they pertain to Arjan Devi, age 26, a resident of Albany, New York. This individual does not exist on any government records, and is currently survived by oral histories, memories, and unofficial, physical keepsakes. Instances of SCP-9319 are anomalously persistent, and have survived multiple attempts to delete or remove them entirely from the noosphere.
You are home. You should be safe here, but this is your blood on the ground, you think. They aren't helping you. You don't know why. Maybe you didn't do a good enough job helping them.
When discovered, SCP-9319 was in the process of active removal via a self-derived infovore. While Foundation personnel decided to let this continue naturally, as this is not an uncommon occurrence in the noosphere, complete informational annihilation was stopped by an intervention of unknown origin. The acquired resistance to deletion was the result.
SCP-9319 depicts Devi as a typical adult male with no anomalous characteristics of his own. Below are some collected examples of various ideas, thoughtforms, and narratives that have been shown to display characteristics of SCP-9319.
He was always such a good son. Quiet, respectful, always listen to his elders. There were big things in his future, until the unfortunate Accident. It's such a shame it's hard to see him as I saw him in that coffin, I still imagine his 10 year old smiling face looking up at me proudly be mean as he showed off his latest high marks from school.
loud noise chest pounding heavy breaths hard to focus need to think of anything box breathing quiet need quiet can't get quiet here loud music not helping anymore
Nice enough guy. Quiet mostly. That was until you got him into a smaller group. I guess this larger lectures we're off putting to him, he did a lot better It was just a few of us. Then I saw him the real him. A good friend. I wish I could have made it to the funeral.
throat burn but damn this is good where did you get this i can actually buy it but. careful
arms too long legs too long shoulders too broad Can't fix that
There is something about my face that does not quite look right
God, did he love to eat! I remember when it was us at the lunch table, 5th grade I think? Half of us didn't even want to finish our lunches because the lunch line had pizza. He offered to take 'em, and he did. Ate everything, everything! We called him the Vacuum. We… probably shouldn't have done that.
He was our son, our pride, our joy. He was going to be just like us.
And what you might call functioning alcoholic debit card to use at the liquor store separate one under my name that they can't see or that I won't show them.
An ace student. Always helped in and around the lab when I needed it.
can't handle it
Awful texter. Sometimes really great at getting back to you. Other times, totally silent for days. He had his moments, and I never could figure out what he needed from us then.
i don't remember the last time I spoke of myself positively
I remember he always liked to announce himself in a room. Not through pounding on his chest, or doing anything, no, but just by saying hi to everybody. Me, and the relatives he couldn't really remember the name of. I was too scared to do the same, until he passed. Somebody had to do it then, but it didn't feel right.
I don't think I was cut out for this
It's not quite a four point zero
We just wanted him to help reach his full potential we knew he had. What was the harm of reminding him so often?
someday I think all this stress is going to catch up to me
We were hoping that more people would show up. Call, maybe. I guess it was just me that hoped that, though. I don't think Mom and Dad cared, as long as family was there. That's all they really wanted. Anything more is set dressing. Certainly not something they're actually looking for.
I'm not really sure why I never invited him out. We were friends. Maybe I was just waiting for him to do it first. He always seems— er, seemed so extroverted, whenever we were together. So, I kind of expected him to do it if he wanted it.
He was in the gym a lot, recently. He was one of the guys that work out in spurts. They go incredibly hard for two weeks, don't come for a month, two weeks again. The kind of guys who look in the mirror, and they don't see the progress. They see what's left, and how it hasn't gone away fast enough.
Adult Indian Male. ID tells us age 26. Blunt trauma to chest. Multiple broken ribs, not currently breathing, multiple large lacerations on anterior side of all limbs. Large head bleed indicates major head trauma, likely from striking dashboard and steering wheel. ETA 10 minutes to major trauma center, prep crash cart.
He tried to play a song for me before. Talked up a really big game. I think he got nervous, cause those strings kept buzzing! He still tried. He always did.
He mentioned wanting to go to more shows or get a piercing. Fifteen years, I think, he kept saying he would ask them. He never did.
Time of death, 5:07 PM. Died en route to hospital. Close the eyes. Check wallet again for contact info, maybe?
I don't know how it's affecting Mom and Dad, though.
Would you like to keep this pile of ashes?
I remember near the end, senior year, he took a bunch of classes that he never would have otherwise. Art, history, music, things like that. I wonder why.
He was gonna be a doctor, just like us.
He'll be back in this world soon enough! We do believe in reincarnation after all.
can't do this
It wasn't right for him to go before me. I'm 70. I'm done. It's not fair.
I left his room alone, mostly. Haven't really touched it. It's hard to go in these days because it's just as he left it. I didn't know, but he saved all the birthday cards I gave him, even the ones from when I was like, two. I thought he hated them. I miss my brother.
I tabled next to him, I think? I definitely recognize that face, honey. What a shame. Good thing the news is reporting on it though. Wouldn't have known otherwise. No, didn't know him well. He tabled the one time? Never saw him at another art fest again.
Put so much effort into him.
I'm sure that wherever my brother is, he's happy. That's all I want for him.
Devi is not the only individual to have markers in the noosphere when they do not appear to exist. Foundation records of data and testimonies dating back approximately 500 years show that 327 individuals at the least have experienced a similar self-inflicted infovore, followed by intentionally-caused noo-permanence. However, SCP-9319 is the sole example that has been able to be traced.
Further investigation into the origin of the intervention that gave 9319 its anomalous abilities revealed minor traces of noospheric manipulation. Unique "fingerprints" corresponding to some of the thoughtforms above were located in high counts in the home of Devi's presumed parents, Shaan and Soni Devi, ages 55 and 54 respectively. Given the potential for engagement with any entities responsible for modification of the noosphere, MTF Theta-707 "Sensor Ships" were dispatched. Attached below is an exploration log.
<START LOG>
Three members of Theta-707 — Lead Jack Rossi, Translation Specialist Dennis Whitman, and Gunman Kay Lorentz — approaches the home. It is a single-story home in a suburban neighborhood, with nothing anomalous or dangerous immediately visible, on an exterior examination. This is remarked upon as the team enters the home through the unlocked main door.
Inside, they have found themselves in the foyer. A member remarks on a strong smell permeating throughout the home, compared to the scent of raw or rotting meat. However, a visual scan shows nothing that would be creating this odor in the foyer. A brief sweep of the rest of the rooms are similarly fruitless. Each member notes specific observations about the rooms they enter:
- The fridge in the kitchen is completely empty and entirely clean. The cabinets are stocked with mouthwash and purified spring water bottles.
- The mantle of the fireplace in the living room is completely full of photos, diplomas, plaques, and other items attributed to Devi.
- Three bedrooms are present, but only two are furnished — the main bedroom for the parents, and what appears to be Devi's room. The third, presumably for the Devis' daughter Amaya Devi, age 21, is entirely empty.
- The bathrooms have a strong smell of bleach.
The hands dig into you, dirty and crusted nails into your flesh. You did not want to be here, like this, but you cannot do anything about it. You are tethered here. But all tethers are not permanent, you hope, as best as you can, through all the pain and ripping and tearing.
The team returns to the living room to re-group. Team Lead Rossi pulls out floorplans acquired from municipal archives, which indicate that a basement is attached. The entrance is outside.
To the side, as Rossi studies the floorplans, Whitman and Lorentz discuss what else they have seen. Lorentz is impressed at the accolades; Whitman less so. Both laugh, before Whitman mentions that the bedroom had many of the same outfit hung up: red shirt, khaki pants, black underwear, all pre-prepared.
Lorentz notes that she looked at the laundry room. Those same clothes were all that were being washed, and the trash can appeared to be full. A small list, written on a discarded scrap of paper, was found inside. Before she can continue, Whitman nudges her, and tells her to let Rossi know too. Lorentz rolls her eyes.
you EARNED this pain EARNED it through every single little fucking fuckup
Lorentz mentions the list, and that she's memorized each item on it to Rossi. It consists of:
- Personal development
- Professional development
- Arranged marriage
- Family relationships
- Think of these things enough times and it will happen.
- The more you get thinking, the more people that are thinking, the better the chances.
- He will stay.
- He will be called.
- He will be back, good as new.
- If it does not work, try again.
Rossi frowns.
Why did they want you like this? Back so wrong, so different each time, like they kept cutting away at you in hopes you would be right?
They stopped caring about who you were a long time ago. Now you were the sack of meat you think you always were, in their eyes.
The pain was unbearable. You never really got used to it.
The team exits outside to the backyard. Piles of dirt appear haphazardly dug in the all-grass plot, with signs of patchy regrowth. Rossi asks Whitman and Lorentz to dig these up as he sets up equipment for audiovisual data collection. Whitman agrees, and Lorentz only acquiesces after a stern look from Rossi.
They dig. Audio-recording instrumentation, the first to be set up, detects a low crunching noise, inaudible to the team.
Various bones, all appearing to be those of a human male, are found in each of the piles excavated. Each contains a different type: one femurs, one skulls, one ulnas and radii, and so on. Each bone appears broken, but clean as no flesh, ligaments, or other organic material can be found aside from the bone itself.
The team appears confused. The smell is stronger outside. Rossi remarks that it does not appear to be coming from any of the excavated piles. Whitman removes a nooscope from his belt. He switches it on, with it already calibrated to SCP–9319 instances. The radar starts beeping wildly. Whitman quickly silences it, laughs nervously, and looks to his teammates.
god how you disappointed yourself, how you disappointed them and were too much of a coward because they never forced you to do anything just suggested and implied and nudged you never a push! so they finagled you out of advocacy and pushed you in ways you didn't want to be without even laying a hand on you (metaphorically or physically) and you should have been thankful for that you ungrateful little shit-faced brat
even now you disappoint, you little fucking morsel as your sinews and tendons are ripped from each other here and there and everywhere like little ribbons they threw at your birthday party up up up in joy!
Noospheric markers are high, Whitman mentions. Most known instances of SCP-9319 can be tracked within. Rossi reminds Whitman to examine the collections of bones found already. Similar markers present on each — though each carries distinctly different noospheric sub-layers. Whitman offers examples; "lawyer," "judge," "doctor," "financier," so on. Most appear to be tied to family roles or occupations.
Rossi nods. He then gestures the team to the doors, which Whitman and Lorentz gently open. They walk down the stairs with a loud series of creaks. The crunching gets louder.
The room itself is dimly lit. Lorentz recoils, as the odor is strongest here. Two humanoid hunched figures are in the back corner of the basement.
The crunching noises appear to be emanating from that corner as well, corresponding with each figure bending over slightly. One displays secondary sex characteristics of a male, and the other of a female. Both appear mostly human, and neither appears to be wearing clothes.
They both appear dirty and ragged, with entrails, flesh, and blood stuck to their skin. The pair of entities are partaking in feeding behavior, Whitman remarks quietly. Rossi silences him with an arm on Whitman's shoulder, putting a finger up to his own mouth. The team slowly approaches.
it never gets easier it keeps happening just let me rest
or at least tell me i fed you and kept you warm in your belly and let you move your jaws to swallow me whole again
The team shine their flashlights on the hunched figures. There is no indication that the entities are aware of this. Two agents draw their weapons, and keep them trained on the humanoids.
Team Lead Rossi asks them to identify themselves. They do not respond. Whitman looks to Rossi, then Lorentz, and wonders aloud on what to do. A translation is offered, but Lorentz mentions that the squad is unaware what language they even speak, if one is spoken at all.
Lorentz, with her gun drawn, implies she is getting impatient. This is not something MTF Theta-707 is used to, being mostly behind desks or working with Surrealistics and other mental-space based teams. There is a click of the hammer being cocked. Both entities turn, and a body falls out of each of their mouths.
The bodies are headless and cannot be identified, though genetic testing reveals them to be identical.
The entities' eyes are bright and bloodshot. They are slightly larger than the average human, with sharp, serrated teeth. Lanky limbs bound forward as nails clatter on cement floor.
The team fires as Whitman draws his own weapon. The entities are gunned down quickly, proving extremely susceptible to gunfire.
DNA samples from their prey cannot be matched with any known individual. It is confirmed that they are human, much like their dead predators.
<END LOG>
the jaws sink into brain soft warm brain you arent even fully alive but thats where your brain would be if you worked right or were brought back right
but its hundreds of times now i dont think itll be the case anymore
and you cant make it stop because even if it did then it will happen—
You are in a cold, dark room. It is your basement. Your parents are there. They love you so. Look at their lovely faces, and their wonderful bright eyes.
You are real and full and whole. Their love is all-consuming.
The wild orbs in their heads stare at you expectantly. They are waiting for you to do your filial and pious duties.
But, let them finish their meal first.
It would be rude to interrupt.