80195539APOLLY.zip
Special Containment Procedures: DRO-XXXX has been isolated within a secure data-storage terminal at Ethics Committee Headquarters Site-003. A security detail of MTF Omega-1 ("Law's Left Hand") has been assigned to prevent unauthorized access to DRO-XXXX.
Until such a time as DRO-XXXX's contents are properly transcribed, a partial transcription will be stored within the AMEC Database for viewing by the Ethics Committee, due to the additional security necessarily afforded to AMEC items.
Description: DRO-XXXX is a data file, named "80195539APOLLY.zip", within the Ethics Committee's internal archive array. A classical antimeme affects the files compressed within DRO-XXXX, causing individuals who view its content to forget them after the viewing period has terminated. The exact origin of the antimeme within DRO-XXXX is unknown, frustrating attempts to transcribe the entirety of its contents in a viewing-safe format. Usage of mnestic therapy and targeted memetic inoculation have been partially successful in this venture.
The compressed files within DRO-XXXX are presumed to have been written by Ethics Committee Liaison Trevor Avella prior to his disappearance/death. After a distress call from an anonymous source was received from within Site-17 on March 22, 2016, Liaison Avella had been dispatched to the facility to conduct an external audit.
46841107.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (9:30)
This procedural bullshit is getting on my last goddamn nerve.
I'm currently on a tour of the facility and I've yet to learn anything I don't already know. This is a waste of everyone's time.
Some technician probably tripped Site-17's SOS communication and they're too scared to admit it. That's usually what this boils down to.
78366242.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (12:00)
Directives from 003:
- Interview select personnel on Site-17's situation.
- Run through the SCiPNET files on the anomalies contained here.
- Make a decision about why someone tripped the SOS alarm. (Already done.)
- Determine if Omega-1 needs to be sent in for a larger investigation. (No.)
Why the hell are there so many unfinished files on Site-17's SCiPNET?
84988735.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (14:00)
Ha. Found another mistake. They have a Keter humanoid here called 4051, but he's obviously a Euclid, right? I can probably call that a procedural error in my report.
4051 himself is nothing to write home about. He didn't talk during the interview and staff tell me he never moves. Researchers get rotated out every few months, so I'm not sure how long he's been here.
He's got a pretty nasty scar on one arm, though. Maybe I should look into that.
49093800.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (16:50)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: Site-17 Director Thomas Graham
Context: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
<Begin Log>
Graham: — it on?
Avella: Yeah, yeah, it's on.
Graham: Alright, thank you for that. I'd encourage you to adhere to procedure from now on; notes won't suffice when you conduct interviews like this.
Avella: Ha, that's a good one. No one's checking these logs, Graham. Besides, you should really care more about the plank in your eye, compared to the speck in mine — if you catch my drift.
Graham: You don't strike me as a religious man, Avella.
Avella: I am when it's convenient.
(Avella coughs wetly in the microphone.)
Graham: … Of course. How is the audit?
Avella: Very revealing, Graham, very revealing. I'm pleased to announce that Site-17 does live up to its reputation. Your facilities are well-maintained, your staff well-educated, and your resources, well… unmatched, let's say.
Graham: That's good to hear.
Avella: I'm not done yet, Graham. Please bring to your attention the following document.
(A paper is audibly exchanged.)
Graham: It appears to be a redacted copy of SCP-4051's SCiPNET file. You've circled the object class; why?
Avella: Well, Graham, I may not be a member of the Classification Committee, but it certainly doesn't seem to deserve the Keter status.
Graham: I suppose that's subjective.
Avella: "Subjective"? You insult the Committee.
(Dr. Graham is silent for several seconds.)
Graham: Why are you doing this?
Avella: Excuse you?
Graham: I'd hoped we could get along during this audit, but you're very quickly proving me wrong. Can't we keep this civil?
Avella: Calls for civility won't distract me from what's at play here. As you'll see from these documents —
(More papers are exchanged.)
Avella: Generally speaking, your containment procedures are either lacking or redacted. And not to mention, a fair amount of these documents are incomplete; they weren't even properly uploaded onto SCiPNET, just left in the drafting process. Do you even know how hard it was to view them? I had to find an employee here from Archival to temporarily unlock the drafting database on my terminal.
Graham: I believe those are discarded jokes and ideas, written by my staff. Nothing to be taken seriously.
Avella: That doesn't matter. Per Article III, Section 9 of Ethics Committee Charter, all regulatory violations reported to the relevant site director — that's you, to clarify — must be rectified posthaste. Article I, Section 12 of the Archival Department charter, meanwhile, mandates that SCiPNET and other record-keeping databases be kept in "good standing condition" — meaning those "jokes" are wholly unacceptable. I'd like to see some of those redactions and drafts cleaned up within the week.
(Graham is silent for several seconds.)
Graham: Congratulations are certainly in order, Liaison Avella. You came here to investigate a distress call and have somehow managed to shut down Archival for the evening.
Avella: I was sent here to ensure that Site-17 is in good shape. That's just my job.
Graham: Is this your first time performing a site-wide audit?
Avella: … No.
Graham: Sure. Then you should be aware of how these audits work. Committee Liaisons specialize in bullying: you threaten, you throw names around, you speak with a silver tongue. Now, normally, you reserve all that for some poor junior researcher, but you have, by some twist of fate, found yourself in charge of auditing a site. You fall back on your old tactics of manipulation — to clarify, quoting Department Charters which were antiquated fifty years ago — and hope it will work. It will not.
Avella: … You do understand that these statements don't reflect well on you, right? I could have your job for speaking to me like this.
Graham: Oh, don't misunderstand me! I'll get right on your proposals, don't worry, and I thank you for bringing them to my attention. A messy database is a dysfunctional database! But let's be honest: neither of us want to be here. You don't want to be investigating a false SOS signal, and I don't want to deal with… this. Can we not drag this out longer than necessary?
Avella: It'll take however long it will take. I'll be continuing the audit elsewhere now.
Graham: Of course, of course.
(Avella stands and opens the office door.)
Graham: And Avella? I appreciate your concern, but you shouldn't worry about me or my job. It's not as if anyone reads these logs, anyways.
Avella: Right.
<End Log>
08196862.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (17:00)
The nerve on that guy, huh? What's his problem?
37520723.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (17:30)
Goddamnit. I'm trying to get the rest of today's interviews done but I can't stop thinking about Thomas-fucking-Graham and his smug face.
02688683.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (18:00)
You know what? Fuck him. If he thinks I'm powerless, then he'd better be ready for a real investigation.
Plan of Action:
- Find a copy of that distress signal; shit was too classified for me to access back at 003 but Cimmerian may have a copy? (Room 42A)
- Get to know the people here. Integrate. Uncover secrets. Do what I was trained to do.
- Can't rely on 003/Omega-1 to get anything done so I need leverage. Anything that the Council would object to.
- Make Graham sweat.
Need to set up my unit in the staff dormitories and then I'll get started immediately.
77211184.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (18:13)
Leaving now; I bet Cimmerian's just as fed up with Graham as I am. If half the stories they tell at Site-003 are true, he's just the guy I need.
85721239.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (18:30)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: EC Chairman Jeremiah Cimmerian
Context: Part of an ongoing investigation; took place in his office.
<Begin Log>
Avella: Greetings, Dr. Cimmerian. Thank you for agreeing to meet me a little earlier than expected.
Cimmerian: It's no problem. You're here on some kind of audit?
Avella: Indeed; yesterday, Site-17's SOS communication activated, and I've been dispatched to assess the situation. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright with you.
Cimmerian: Of course, go ahead — I'm always happy to help another ethicist. What do you want to know?
Avella: Let's start with the standard questions. Can you confirm that you're the Ethics Committee Chairman for Site-17?
Cimmerian: I can, yes.
Avella: And, being the Committee Chairman, you're privy to most of the operations performed here. Would that include the SOS communication in question?
Cimmerian: It would, yes, although I personally haven't listened to it.
Avella: But you're capable of retrieving it, yes?
Cimmerian: I'm… not certain you're able to listen to it, if that's what you're getting at.
Avella: Ah, of course; you're as perceptive as they say. Let's move on to another topic. You've been positioned at Site-17 for ten years now; what problems, if any, usually come up?
Cimmerian: Well, six years back, we had some issues with employees integrating into Graham's leadership style, but other than that? I've mostly just been overseeing promotions. They call me in to make sure that nobody has any conflicts of interest, and then I sign the paperwork at the end.
Avella: Did your involvement ever result in any problems with upper management? Any sort of obstruction?
Cimmerian: Why are you asking?
Avella: In my initial interview with Dr. Graham, he demonstrated some hostility towards the audit. Is that hostility a trend, in your estimate?
Cimmerian: A trend? I think… hold on.
(Cimmerian in silent for several seconds.)
Cimmerian: Sorry, I don't have anything for you. It's strange — something's on the tip of my tongue but I just can't pin it down.
Avella: Hold on, I may be able to help with that. Your name was tagged in the metadata on one of the articles I pulled…
(Papers shuffle until one is placed on the table in front of CImmerian.)
Avella: That's it: 4051. I talked with Graham about this one and expressed my dissatisfaction with —
Cimmerian: You spoke with Graham about him?
Avella: Yes? Is that an issue?
(More seconds of silence pass.)
Cimmerian: Are you sure you want to know about 4051?
Avella: Yes. Any information you have would help.
Cimmerian: Alright. Back in 2012, Graham called me in to promote a new procedure lead — "Edwards" was his name, you wouldn't know him — over the SCP-4051 project, but it was different than usual. When you work with the Committee, you get used to sifting through redacted data — even though it's technically illegal to withhold information like that — but I kept running into a wall.
Avella: Do you suspect that Graham had a hand in that?
Cimmerian: Probably? Probably. The only thing I knew was that Graham was pushing me to promote Edwards and it'd be unreasonable to deny him that based on a hunch. I didn't… know…
Avella: Cimmerian?
Cimmerian: I didn't know he was going to hurt the kid. Eventually, everything came to light, and I never got an update to that.
Avella: That's probably when he was reclassified — are you alright, though? Do you need a minute?
Cimmerian: I'm fine. I guess I just never got over it. Not what happened to Rainer — I mean, I've been working with humanoids for twenty years now; I've initiated containment procedures a hundred times worse than what Edwards did. I was more upset about what it meant for the Foundation.
Avella: Pardon?
Cimmerian: Think about it, Avella. I was in charge of determining the best course of action for the Foundation with the full authority of the Ethics Committee, and I made the wrong choice. Now scale that incident up to the level of an entire organization. What are we doing? Do we even know we're in the right?
Avella: Listen, Cimmerian — I, well… you were doing your best. I mean, that's why you're such a key consultant for the Committee — you're always trying your hardest. No one can really blame you for that.
Cimmerian: I know someone who would blame me. He's a mile underground and he's got a scar on his left arm because the people in charge of him failed.
Avella: I —
Cimmerian: Is that tablet still recording?
Avella: Yes, would you like to —
Cimmerian: Turn it off, please. I'm done being interviewed.
Avella: Are you sure?
Cimmerian: Yes. I want to be alone now.
<End Log>
34132373.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (18:41)
That wasn't Jeremiah Cimmerian. That was a dead man who used to be Jeremiah Cimmerian.
What is this place?
[ANTIMEMETIC HAZARD EXPUNGED, DECRYPTION 12% COMPLETE]
54626525.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (18:49)
???
Ended up in SCP-4051's observation deck — guess I had him on the mind? Don't remember walking here but it's on the way to my room so whatever.
Why was he staring at me through the camera? He's supposed to be near-comatose. Is he important?
36690006.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (19:00)
Oh shit. Okay. Fuck. Something's wrong.
I didn't want to end up in a random observation deck again, so I went down to the parking garage to find my vehicle and grab the facility map I left behind. Couldn't find it. My car isn't there — there's some big truck in the spot I parked.
Got back to my room and almost didn't notice it at first but someone had unzipped my bag — the one I'm supposed to keep this tablet in. They re-zipped it but they pulled it all the way down when I had it only zipped halfway.
Someone's trying to keep me at Site-17.
93612571.txt Logged 3.23.2016 (19:01)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
Context: Video log for safety.
<Begin Log>
(Avella is standing alone in a room, presumably his unit in the staff dormitories. The tablet seems to be positioned on a desk or table against a wall so that the majority of the room is visible.)
Avella: Okay, here's the plan: tomorrow, I figure out where my vehicle went, I wrap this audit up as fast as possible, and then I get the hell out of here. But I need to… sleep here… which is less than ideal. There's not much I can do about that, so I'm going to leave this feed running all night. If anyone enters my room, I can review the footage and see who it was. This —
(Footsteps are audible from out-of-frame and Avella turns his head sharply to the door. He waits for several seconds until the footsteps pass.)
Avella: This, uh… this device will keep streaming to Site-003 as long as its on, so if anything happens to me, there'll be some sort of record. I mean, someone at 003 has to check these logs occasionally, right?
(Avella pauses for several seconds.)
Avella: I guess if you're watching this, it means you're on the Committee. There's a lot I don't know right now — who tripped the SOS alarm, what's going on with Graham, where the hell my car went — but the biggest question on my mind is why you even sent me here. I'm usually just checking behind the work of junior researchers and signing off on putting Safe-class objects in boxes. I shouldn't be here.
(For a single frame, an indistinct shape appears in the footage behind Avella.)
Avella: Well, regardless, I need to sleep. Goodnight, Site-17 — I hope this is the last I have to give you.
(Avella moves out of frame, and the following fifteen minutes are uneventful. At the 15:04 timestamp, the footage is subject to severe audiovisual corruption. At the 41:07 timestamp, an unidentified event occurs and persists throughout the rest of the night.)
[ANTIMEMETIC HAZARD DETECTED, DECRYPTION 8% COMPLETE]
(Avella awakens and stands, removing the tablet from its position and turning off the recording.)
<End Log>
71585902.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (5:53)
Didn't sleep well, as expected. Had a dream about a box, but I don't remember much.
I'm going to visit the site library today and see if I can find where my car might be. After that, I can just rubber-stamp the audit report.
27185176.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (8:37)
I might have just found something. I spent a couple hours looking over the floor plans of Site-17 and came across an incongruity: the abridged facility dossier I received from Site-003 said that Site-17 has seven underground levels, but all the items in the site library say there are six. I dug up the Site Charter in the archives and there were, in fact, seven levels at the time of construction.
The best part? Level 7 is some kind of parking deck.
I brought that up to the librarian, then a couple people walking around, and it got weird. Let me see if I can record it.
63802911.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (8:43)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
Context: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
<Begin Log>
(The camera is covered by the black fabric of the tablet's carrier bag, obstructing video.)
Avella: Hey, how many floors does this site have?
Unknown: … Sorry, what?
Avella: How many floors does this site have?
Unknown: I think six. Why?
Avella: Really? It says seven right here in the Charter.
Unknown: Sorry, what?
Avella: We were talking about how there are seven floors in this site.
Unknown: Can you speak louder?
Avella: Yeah, sure. Site-17 has seven floors.
Unknown: Listen, man, I'm trying to get work done here. Leave me alone.
Avella: Cool, cool, thanks for your input.
<End Log>
43940246.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (8:45)
So we have some kind of antimeme running amuck at a Foundation containment facility — probably only effective if you've been exposed to it for a given amount of time. If I were actually going to perform my audit, that'd deserve a big red mark on the Containment Efficacy section.
Problem is that Level 7 is literally the only place they could have my vehicle. Of note, there is an unexplained exit ramp that I saw coming in which probably leads down there.
Guess I have to pay a visit to the Mnestic Department now.
56133589.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (9:05)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
Context: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
<Begin Log>
(Avella is holding the tablet as he walks down a hallway at Site-17. After starting the recording, he slips the device into its carrier bag at his side.)
Avella: If I'm trying to bypass an exposure-conditional antimeme, I'm going to need, eh… Class-P mnestics, let's say. Not anything too powerful, but effective enough to work for an hour or so — and just as an extra precaution, I'll try to record it all one way or another. Now, uh, they don't just give mnestics out to anyone who asks, so I'm gonna need to be clever about this.
(Avella is silent for several minutes. Eventually, the sound of his footsteps slow.)
Avella: Hey, is this the Mnestics Department?
Unknown: Sorry? Who are you?
Avella: Ethics Committee Liaison Trevor Avella. I'm here to conduct an audit, as you might have heard. Would you mind showing me around your department?
(Avella presumably displays some form of identifying information.)
Unknown: You're on the Committee? I… sure, I suppose. You just want a walk around?
Avella: That's right. I'm specifically interested in your inventory space. Could you direct me there?
Unknown: I-I, uh, I'll try my best. Okay, keep behind me.
(As Avella follows the researcher for two minutes, they make several comments on the surrounding facilities which Avella does not reply to.)
Unknown: Alright, this is the… inventory storage… this is where you want to be?
Avella: Correct. Would you mind if I stay here for the inspection?
Unknown: Sorry? No, you can't stay. That's against protocol.
Avella: Really? Per Article VI of the Ethics Committee Charter, the authority of a liaison trumps that of a site-centric department. I would like to conduct my audit. If you have an issue with that, take it up with the Committee.
Unknown: I don't care about some damn charter, you can't stay here. Please come with me.
Avella: Is there something in that storage room you don't want me to see?
Unknown: N-No, you just —
Avella: You're a very bad liar, you know. I could — hey! What the hell?! Let go!
(The following audio indicates that a scuffle occurred between Avella and the researcher, lasting for fifteen seconds. Avella removes himself from the researcher's hold and enters the storage room, shutting and locking the door behind him.)
Avella: (under his breath) Stupid… what the hell was that? Where are the Class-P's?
Unknown: (from outside) Did you lock this? Stay right there! We can sort this out, I just need to put in my passcode!
(Avella begins jogging.)
Avella: Class-R, Class-S, Class… -P! There we go!
(Cardboard shuffles as Avella opens a package. The door unlocks behind him and the researcher enters.)
Unknown: Hold on! What are you —
Avella: I'd advise you to stop! It's against the terms of your employment to assault a Committee Liaison!
Unknown: No, why are… why are you holding one of the mnestic packets? Aren't you here on an audit?
Avella: It's complicated. I need these.
Unknown: … Oh.
Avella: Thank you. Now, if you don't mind…
Unknown: I'm sorry. I thought you were going to inspect the inventory — if you just needed a sample, you could have asked. You… know what those things are for, right?
Avella: I know they'll help me remember, and that's all I need right now.
(Audio suggests that Avella attempted to move past the researcher and out of the room, but is blocked.)
Avella: I told you to stop.
Unknown: No, listen, I don't think you understand what you're doing. Those things will make you feel powerful, alright? They'll make you remember things that were stolen from you. It's the biggest high the Foundation's ever produced. That's a Class-P, but if you went up to a Class-V, you'd get a better result.
Avella: I'm fine with these.
(Avella tries to move but is again blocked.)
Unknown: It's customary to pay.
Avella: … How much?
Unknown: Class-Ps'll cost you a hundred.
(Recording picks up sounds of shifting fabric and paper.)
Unknown: Alright. Stay safe, keep it quiet.
Avella: Right.
(Avella walks for five minutes, until he presumably leaves the department.)
Avella: The fuck was that?
<End Log>
59797104.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (9:13)
The hell is going on here? The Mnestic Department is selling its own stock under the table? That doesn't make any goddamn sense.
Mnestics aren't anomalous drugs. The Foundation's had years to tweak the depedency-forming effects of the original mnestic batches, and nowadays they're only dangerous in high doses. There certainly shouldn't be any sort of "high", unless you're under heavy and regular amnesticization therapy like, all the time.
… Shit. I need to get out of here.
93860511.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (9:26)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
Context: Getting my car back.
<Begin Log>
(Avella is walking down a flight of metal stairs, lit by intermittent wall-mounted flourescents.)
Avella: Alright, I'm on the main stairwell. Haven't taken those mnestics yet. They feel… dirty, I guess.
(Several minutes pass in silence. The sound of heavy machinery is faintly audible in the background.)
Avella: There's Level 6. Let's see if there really is a fabled Level 7.
(Avella takes out the Class-P mnestic package and deposits a sample into his palm. After a second, he raises his hand and consumes the capsule.)
Avella: I feel… fine. Everything's normal. Everything… oh, and there's Level 7.
(A door is visible at the bottom of the stairwell, marked "7" in white block text. A keypad is mounted on the wall to the right.)
Avella: Christ, this place looks old. Do you need a passcode to get in?
(Avella approaches the device and enters "1111". The screen presents a "DENIED" text prompt.)
(At this time, a classical antimeme temporarily affects the wall above the concrete keypad device. Upon decryption, the following becomes visible: Portions of the wall simultaneously protrude to spell the code "3327". Additionally, a humanoid face emerges above the numbers, ostensibly merged with the concrete of the wall. This face stares at Avella until it retracts and the antimeme dispells, rendering the numbers visible.)
Avella: This might be a bust. I… Hold on, were these always here?
(Avella brings a finger to the wall, tracing the letters.)
Avella: 3, 3, 2, 7. Okay, let's try that.
(As Avella enters the code, the letters retract into the wall. Upon submission, the keypad beeps and flashes green before the door emits an audible click.)
Avella: Guess I'm in.
(Avella pulls open the door and enters. Level 7's interior is poorly lit, but appears to be an empty car lot. A central building has been erected in the center of the lot, with a single door visible. Additionally, a large entrance and exit ramp has been erected on the rightmost wall. The level extends beyond what can be immediately seen due to the lighting. Avella walks towards the central strucure.)
Avella: Something's off right now. Maybe that's just the paranoia, though. I'm not used to — hey, that's my car!
(Avella jogs towards a vehicle at the back of the lot. As he approaches, it becomes apparent that the car has been partially deconstructed — the tires have been removed, and the steering column separated from the dashboard. As such, the vehicle is inoperable.)
Avella: Shit… if I can't drive, am I going to have to walk out of here? Site-17's in the middle of nowhere, that's not going to —
(A beeping noise, identical to that of the keypad device, emits from across the lot, followed by a click as the door opens. Avella ducks behind his car to avoid being seen, and remains silent. At this time, he places the tablet on the ground, obscuring the camera. Sounds of footsteps approach from across the lot, and Avella's breathing becomes audible to the audio recorder.)
(The treads of an armored vehicle approach from the entrance ramp; intensive analysis of the audio and later video have suggested that it is a Standard-Issue Mobile Unit (SIMU) for on-site containment teams. The vehicle enters the lot and Avella repositions the tablet.)
Avella: Big truck… why aren't they affected by the antimeme?
(The vehicle halts and audio suggests that unidentified items are being unloaded from the back. At this time, two individuals begin to speak, one of which is Site-17 Director Thomas Graham.)
Graham: How was it?
Unidentified: Uneventful. We bagged him before he knew we were there, and wrecked the apartment enough to be convincing.
Graham: Good. It's a Class-II?
Unidentified: That's what it said on the reports. Between you and me, you're not going to catch anything higher than dash-twos without some kind of Scranton tech. They scale exponentially.
Graham: I assure you, he's no threat to me in such a condition as that.
Unidentified: Yeah, yeah. They bleed like anyone else. Scream a whole damn lot, too. But when you're doing your work, don't get cocky — bastards tend to live a lot longer than you expect.
Graham: I'll take that under advisement. Now, if you don't mind?
(A medical gurney or other transport is wheeled towards the central building. A door opens and shuts in the distance, and the sound of an elevator lift moving upwards are heard.)
(Avella sighs audibly.)
Avella: Jesus Christ. Mother Mary and Joseph, Jesus Christ.
(Avella grabs the tablet and stands, looking over the top of his car to ensure the lot is empty. He then moves out of his cover and jogs towards the primary entrance door.)
Avella: I think I'll… be excused if I don't complete the audit properly… given the circumstances. I need to make a call for an… emergency extraction… hopefully Omega-1 can —
(A gunshot sounds behind Avella and a bullet impacts the wall next to the door. Avella halts and turns around slowly.)
(Graham stands outside the central building, aiming a firearm in Avella's direction.)
Graham: That was a warning shot. Now, come with me, Trevor. We need to discuss something.
Avella: Nope.
(Avella grabs the door handle, opens it, and flees into the stairwell. Graham neither discharges his firearm nor pursues.)
<End Log>
45020909.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (9:35)
SOS COMMUNICATION (Do not disregard.)
My name is Trevor Avella. I was dispatched to audit Site-17 and now fear for my bodily safety. I do not believe I am able to leave the facility. I require an extraction post-haste. All the data I've collected so far should be available in the Site-003 archive, and I'll be updating it whenever possible.
If you're reading this, I need help. Something's happening here and it requires the full weight of the Committee to combat. Send in Omega-1, contact Overwatch, put the site on lockdown — whatever you need to do.
Please.
| SOS STATUS |
|---|
| UNREAD |
86552174.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (10:03)
Graham's probably alerted the security force by now. I probably only have a few minutes to pack my shit and get out.
I know I shouldn't have come back to the dormitories, but I kept getting this weird feeling. I've investigated all over the site now, except here. My own room.
Switching to video now. Typing is too slow.
69531787.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (10:06)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: [FIELD LEFT BLANK]
Context: [FIELD LEFT BLANK]
<Begin Log>
(Avella directs the tablet towards his face. He appears haggard. Behind him, various items have been stacked against the door in a makeshift baracade.)
Avella: I found something. I'm not sure what it means, but I found it. I think it had something to do with my bad sleep last night — another antimeme, maybe?
(Avella crouches at his bedside and angles the tablet camera underneath, revealing the bottom of the bed frame. The words "GHOST —TA" has been scratched into the metal.)
Avella: I'm not sure if "TA" is my signature, but it's the "GHOST" part I'm worried about.
(Avella angles the camera at his face and sighs again.)
Avella: I don't know. Maybe I should be more concerned about what happened on Level Seven. That wasn't a normal situation. If they were bringing in a reality-bender, there should have been more people — a containment team, some Scranton technicians, an ethicist to sign off on the whole thing — not just one soldier and Graham. He's collecting reality-benders and he's keeping it as secret as possible. Why?
(Avella is silent for several seconds.)
Avella: Whatever it is… it's wrong. It's unethical. And I won't stand for it.
(Avella smiles, moving the camera to show a briefcase containing binders and manuals, ostensibly pertaining to the ethical codes of various Foundation departments and sites.)
Avella: I think I know where to go now. When I was leaving Cimmerian's office last night, I ended up on 4051's observation deck, and he stared at me through the surveillance camera. Like he knew I was there, somehow. The look he gave me… I think he knows more about what's happening here then he's letting on.
(Avella closes the briefcase and picks it up, moving to the door and grabbing the handle.)
Avella: Alright. Let's see where this road leads.
<End Log>
53835091.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (10:34)
Interviewer: [FIELD LEFT BLANK]
Interviewed: [FIELD LEFT BLANK]
Context: [FIELD LEFT BLANK]
<Begin Log>
(The camera shakes wildly, creating significant motion blur before being angled upward. Avella has entered a hallway in Site-17, but his progress has been blocked by three security agents.)
Avella: I'm going to have to ask you to move aside. You're obstructing an Ethics Committee liaison.
Agent: Trevor, if you wouldn't mind, we need to speak to you in private.
Avella: I-I'm not going with you. You can't obstruct me in a situation like this — I'm recording this, and I know your names!
(The agents begin to advance and remove their self-defense truncheons. Avella swings the camera around the hallway, revealing it to be otherwise empty. He begins to walk backwards.)
Avella: Shit, shit! Edward Stephans! Luis Weaver! James Mills! Records are all publically available —
(Behind the agents, Dr. Jeremiah Cimmerian enters the hallway, holding a single, large manilla envelope. He halts as he sees the impending altercation, seemingly confused.)
Avella: Cimmerian! Jeremiah Cimmerian!
(The three agents halt their advancee, all turning towards Cimmerian, who remains standing in the center of the hallway.)
Avella: Please, Jeremiah, tell them to let me through. They'll listen to you! They'll stop if you tell them to.
(Cimmerian looks to the envelope in his hands, then back to Avella, hesitating.)
Avella: Please, Jeremiah. They'll amnesticize me if you don't. Maybe kill me. Can't you just tell them to stop?
(Cimmerian stares at Avella for several seconds, then turns around and disappears behind the corner. Avella is silent.)
Avella: … He left.
(The agents turn back to Avella, proceeding towards him. The foremost individual — a large Caucasian man with a crew cut and identified by Avella as Edward Stephans — speaks again.)
Stephans: Not even the Ethics Committee is on your side, Trevor. Please, if you wouldn't mind, we really need to talk.
Avella: … Why? Why talk?
Stephans: Because you saw something dangerous, Trevor. Something classified. You know how it goes: how many times have you authorized amnestizations for curious researchers like yourself? Didn't it occur to you that the needle might enter your skin too, one day?
(Stephans makes a placating gesture towards Avella, still holding his self-defense truncheon.)
Stephans: If it's me and my friends you're worried about, then that shouldn't be an issue. We won't be the ones talking; that'd be Graham, in his office, in five minutes or so. Alright?
Avella: … Graham is a stone-cold, unethical bastard, and he'll freeze Hell over before I give him the time of day.
Stephans: That's an unfortunate choice, Avella.
(Stephans raises the truncheon to strike Avella. Abruptly, there is a loud crash, and several tons of concrete envelop the security detail.)
Avella: Oh, fuck!
(Avella jumps back, revealing that a section of the wall has anomalously moved to crush the detail, blocking the hallway in the process. It retracts, revealing the agents — who appear disoriented but nonetheless alive.)
(Video playback remains inconclusive about the following altercation; what can be determined through mnestic application is that the agents are physically assaulted by an unseen force while restrained by upward protrusions in the hallway's flooring. All are momentarily disarmed by unknown means.)
(A woman equipped with a standard-issue heavy task force uniform appears to manifest in the center of the hallway and turns to Avella. Portions of her body are physically incongruent with the surrounding topology.)
Unidentified: I've got the access code to 4051's containment unit. Come on.
Avella: Wait, you.. what?
Unidentified: Come on.
(She grabs him by the arm and begins to lead him down the hallway. Avella eventually begins to jog behind her as they turn the corner, although he struggles to keep pace.)
Avella: Are you… from the Ethics Committee?
Unidentified: The Committee can't help you out here. Keep moving, if you will.
(At the end of the next hallway, several security agents round the corner with weapons drawn. A section of the wall expands to block the agents, and the woman jerks Avella into an hallway.)
Unidentified: Laz! Get us downstairs!
Avella: If you and Laz could slow down I'd —
Unidentified: Jump!
(A section of the floor collapses in front of them, forming a ramp to the lower level. Avella and the woman jump within; several agents are present in the hall and fire upon them as they descend, but their shots are intercepted by cement barricade when erupts from the floor.)
Avella: Shit! They're gonna —
(Several concussive bursts sound close to the microphone and Avella jerks the camera to reveal the woman returning fire from behind the barricade.)
Avella: Fuck! You're task force!
Unidentified: Damn right I'm task force. Upsilon-1, last of my kind. Keep your head down.
(A bullet impacts the wall near Avella, and he cries out and ducks.)
Avella: Oh my god, oh my god. They don't do this stuff at 003. This stuff doesn't happen at 003. I'm gonna be fine. I'm gonna — Hey, Jerry! I mean, Jeremiah!
(Dr. Cimmerian stands at the lip of the collapsed ceiling, looking down at the two confusedly and still holding the manilla envelope.)
Avella: Get back from there! We're — agh!
(The woman throws her firearm into Avella's lap, sprinting up the collapsed cement towards Cimmerian. His eyes widen in surprise as she grabs his throat and lifts him several inches off the air.)
Unidentified: Where the fuck are the Deepwell codes, Cimmerian?
(Cimmerian struggles against her grip, dropping the envelope to the ground and desperately nodding towards in.)
Cimmerian: In… there…!
Unidentified: Bullshit they're in there! Tell me the fucking truth!
(Cimmerian vainly smacks his hand against her grip, not able to respond. She drops him, grabs the envelope and slides back behind the barricade.)
Unidentified: Worthless! Give me my gun back and hold this.
Avella: H-here.
(They exchange the gun and the envelope, and the woman resumes returning fire.)
Unidentified: Laz, you piece of shit genie, get us to 4051. We're losing time.
(The hallway rumbles, and the floor collapses beneath the approaching agents. At the end of the corridor, a section of the floor shakes and begins to rise up.)
Unidentified: Almost there. No more shooting.
Avella: Thank you.
(Both sprint towards the rising platform, jumping onto it with some assistance from one another. Above, the cement ceiling is being pushed apart as they rise.)
Avella: I, uh, can't say I've ever taken this way to 4051's unit.
Unidentified: Yeah. Me neither. Usually I just walk in. One of the few perks of being an antimeme.
Avella: Hmm.
(The ceiling gives way to an interlocking matrix of metal bars, which pull apart with an ugly grinding noise. After several meters, the bars reveal the metallic flooring of a humanoid containment unit, which pulls apart for them to enter. SCP-4051 calls out from within.)
SCP-4051: Tonya! You're back!
(The platform raises completely, filling the puncture in the unit's flooring with concrete. The interior's walls are starkly white, broken by a bed and a treadmill pushed into opposite corners. SCP-4051 stands in the center, waving to them.)
Tonya: Hey Rain. Holding down the fort?
SCP-4051: Yep! How long do you think we have?
(A large face emerges from the center of the north-facing wall, identical to the one present outside the Level 7 door.)
Avella: Jesus.
Large Face: I can resist them for half an hour at most.
SCP-4051: Oh, that's fine! Thank you Laz!
(The face nods before receding into the wall.)
Avella: Okay, um, you guys seem to have your own plan worked out, so I'm gonna stay back. Let me uh, know if you need to make some kind of ethical decision, I guess.
SCP-4051: Nah, come over here! We've got half an hour to finalize this breakout thing.
Avella: Oh. Oh, this is a containment breach, isn't it?
SCP-4051: Sure is!
Avella: Oh my god. I'm aiding an anomaly in breaching its containment. This goes against every single ethical standard we've ever —
Tonya: Oi, ethicist.
Avella: Hmm?
(Tonya is setting her firearm in the room's corner and removing her uniform's vest. She looks at Avella with mild bemusement.)
Tonya: Stop caring about the rules for a second and just do the right thing. Let's talk for a bit.
Avella: Oh. Okay. One second.
<End Log>
05573846.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (10:40)
Talking with 4051 and Skyler. They're mostly okay with being recorded. They're keeping some of the details private though, which makes sense.
77856179.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (10:45)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: SCP-4051, Tonya Skyler
Context: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
<Begin Log>
Avella: Alright, it's on.
Skyler: Hello there, Site-003. You rat pieces of shit.
Avella: Hey!
Skyler: Not you, Trevor.
SCP-4051: Tonya, you could be a little nicer sometimes.
Skyler: I'll work on it.
(The unit vibrates for several seconds, shaking the three within.)
SCP-4051: Sorry Laz! Tonya's getting to it.
Skyler: Right. I am. Avella, we're planning to break out of this facility, and in that regard I believe we're allies.
Avella: Sure, sure.
Skyler: Our plan is simple: We use Rain's anomaly to punch two holes, one to the surface and one to Site-17's Deepwell. From there, ve and Lazarus can escape and meet up with one of our other friends.
Avella: Wait, you use ve/ver pronouns?
SCP-4051: Yep! Containment gives you a lot of time to think. Been growing my hair out too!
Avella: Huh. It's nice. Uh, why're we also punching a hole to the Deepwell?
Skyler: Personal shit. Revenge. You're coming with me.
Avella: Wait, I'm not going with —
(SCP-4051 elbows Avella in the side, who exhales sharply.)
SCP-4051: That's Tonya's way of saying she needs backup, and she trusts you. Both of you can rejoin us after you're done!
Skyler: Rain's right. Deepwells are designed to be impervious, and I likely couldn't break in on my own. Lazarus can't even meld with the material, it's so safety-proofed.
Avella: What, uh… what is Lazarus? He lives in the walls of 17?
SCP-4051: Oh, Laz was a genie I found beneath the Wanderers' Library. I ended up destroying his physical form with my ability, so he kinda just… entered another one. Specifically my shirt, and then, when we got back to 17, the walls of my unit. He's been living incognito ever since.
Avella: Oh, you were — you've been to the Library. Oh, that's…
Skyler: Everything alright, Trevor?
Avella: No, yeah, I'm good. I'm just feeling out of place, if that makes sense. I'm just an ethicist; what am I doing in this mess?
Skyler: Well, you're here because my wife tripped the SOS signal.
Avella: Your wife?
(The room rumbles again, less violently this time. Shouting and the distinct noise of boots on metal filter into the unit.)
Skyler: I'll explain on the way. What matters right now is whether that Cimmerian fuck came through. Hand me the envelope.
Avella: Oh, right. Forgot about that.
(Avella slides the manilla envelope across the unit's floor to Skyler, who opens it and examines the contents.)
Skyler: Well well well, I'll have to apologize to him. These are the Deepwell's access codes alright, so we won't have to think of something on the fly.
SCP-4051: Tonya, I can still come if you need —
Skyler: Rain? Honey?
SCP-4051: Yeah?
Skyler: You've spent years of your life in this hellhole. Get out of it as fast as you possibly can.
SCP-4051: Alright…
Skyler: Trevor, here, Cimmerian left a note for you. Read it while I get ready.
(Skyler tosses the envelope back to Avella, who catches it to his chest. She stands and walks to the corner where she placed her gun and vest.)
Avella: Oh, uh, alright!
SCP-4051: You're gonna do great, Trevor.
Avella: Yeah, I guess I am.
<End Log>
85753283.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (10:46)
Avella,
Six years ago, I made a mistake. Today, I make up for that.
Graham is a symbol of the Foundation's disdain for ethics. His control over Site-17 has left no more room for people like us, and I had thought our ill-fight fight was over.
All my investigations lead me to the Deepwell, which I've been unable to access for some time. Within you'll find the credentials needed to get past the front gate, if you can find it; please, do what the Committee does best and uncover whatever Graham's been storing within.
Give him hell for me.
— Cimmerian
45363986.txt Logged 3.24.2016 (11:34)
Interviewer: EC Liaison Trevor Avella
Interviewed: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
Context: [FIELD LEFT EMPTY]
<Begin Log>
(Avella paces along the north-facing wall as Skyler and SCP-4051 stand across the unit, speaking with one another. Avella wears a duplicate of Skyler's MTF uniform, presumably manifested by SCP-4051.)
Skyler: And you've got this down, right?
SCP-4051: Yes, Tonya, I've got this.
Skyler: Laz spent a long time helping you memorize everything between here and the Deepwell, so yes, you do.
SCP-4051: Ahem, right. Trevor, if you could?
Avella: Hmm?
(Avella walks to them, and Rainer taps the wall with a finger.)
Rainer: I'm gonna be making a giant vacuum right here. Laz'll keep me safe, but unless you want to be sucked directly into the Deepwell, you need to stay behind the barrier he's gonna throw up.
Avella: Makes sense.
Rainer: If everything goes right, you should just be able to walk through the exterior wall. No idea what's inside. I know you're not task force, so if you can't continue Skyler can signal me and I'll pick you up.
Avella: I'll be fine.
Rainer: Right-o! Now take a few steps back, please.
(Avella and Skyler both step back, and a section of the floor raises to bisect the unit. Several seconds of silence follow.)
Skyler: Should be any —
(A sucking sound emits from behind the wall, and the room suddenly buckles. The groan of pipes and infrastructure is heard all around them. After several secords, the separating wall descends and SCP-4051 walks towards the two.)
SCP-4051: (softly) You're doing good Laz. Can you do another? One groan yes, two groans no.
(The facility groans once before settling.)
SCP-4051: Attaboy. Trevor, Tonya?
(Both walk across the unit; Skyler turns as the separating wall raises, but Avella stands and observes the large hole where the unit's north wall was.)
Avella: Jesus Christ.
(The Deepwell is too far away to be visible, but between it and the containment unit the facility seems to have been cut through, creating a downward-sloping tunnel roughly two-persons high. Although it appears to intersect various rooms and hallways throughout the site, concrete is seen moving autonomously to patch the holes.)
Avella: Ve made this?
Skyler: Ve had a good memory and a lot of time.
(Behind the separating wall, another sucking sound is audible, following by a pop. The wall falls into the floor again, revealing SCP-4051 standing in front of another, upward-sloping tunnel. Sunlight is visible on the other side.)
SCP-4051: Good job, Laz! Come on, that's all we had to do.
(SCP-4051 places the shoulder of its jumpsuit against the wall. The unit visibly ripples, concentrating on the space where the wall meets SCP-4051's shirt before subsiding. It pats the fabric and turns around.)
SCP-4051: See you guys soon. Have fun getting revenge!
Skyler: Rain…
(Skyler steps forward, standing in front of SCP-4051.)
Skyler: You're a brave kid. A good, brave kid.
SCP-4051: Tonya, come on, I'm not a child. I'm like 20.
Skyler: Hush, you're my kid.
(Both quickly embrace, then step back. SCP-4051 walks backwards to the exit tunnel, waving.)
SCP-4051: Mor — our friend will be there on the surface when you guys are done! See ya!
(Skyler nods and turns towards the descending tunnel. Avella takes a few seconds to watch SCP-4051 begin climbing before doing the same.)
(Both descend the first three floors in silence. The tunnel floor is relatively unobstructed, barring some remnants of walls and other structures which were not properly erased. Avella keeps pace with Skyler, although he slips a few times due to the downward slope. After the fourth floor, he develops a steady pattern and remains a few steps behind her.)
Avella: So, you have a wife?
Skyler: (inhales) Jesus Christ, Trevor.
Avella: Wait, no, I didn't — I'm sorry.
Skyler: It's fine. The SOS thing?
Avella: Yeah. I'm sorry. I wanted to know about the SOS thing.
Skyler: It's fine.
(Skyler kicks some loose rubble down the slope, watching it tumble for a distance.)
Skyler: Yeah. Got a wife. She's been toeing the line for a while with Graham; guess she saw something that finally freaked her out enough to send an SOS.
Avella: Can't imagine what that "something" could be; God knows there's a thousand and one ethical violations right out in the open.
Skyler: You haven't seen the worst of it yet. Laz said you were down in Level 7 earlier?
Avella: Yeah. Looking for my car.
Skyler: Did you see any of the bodies?
Avella: No.
(Skyler kicks another piece of rubble as they walk. Both are silent.)
Skyler: Sorry. I shouldn't antagonize you like that.
Avella: It's fine.
Skyler: No, it's — It's not fine. I've been here for years and like —
(Skyler looks back to Avella, gesturing at her body.)
Skyler: I'm an antimeme now. You know that, right? "DRO-0045". I've been here for years.
Avella: Oh.
Skyler: I've been here for — I've been keeping people safe. I've been using this antimeme bullshit to help behind the scenes and I'm just fucking tired of it. I want to be with my wife again. I want it to be like before.
(Avella kicks a cement cluster on the ground, letting it skip past Skyler.)
Avella: Rain didn't make for a good conversation partner, did ve?
Skyler: No. Things just kinda slide off of ver, if that makes sense.
(The two continue in silence until they reach the halfway point in the tube. Avella clears his throat loudly.)
Avella: So uh. Got a question.
Skyler: Go for it. Just say something, please.
Avella: You're a classical antimeme, or a definitional antimeme?
Skyler: People can't perceive me or the effects of me interacting with the environment. Classical shit. You've got mnestics in your system, though, so I guess you're exempt.
Avella: Right, but I was only on Class-Ps. They burned out about an hour ago.
Skyler: What?
Avella: My Class-Ps burned out an hour ago. And you're still here.
Skyler: Jesus Christ.
(Skyler's picks up her pace, leaving Avella behind in the tube. Avella sprints after her, struggling to catch up.)
Avella: Tonya! It's not a big deal!
Skyler: It is a big deal, dumbass! I'm antimemetic because the conceptual embodiment of Anomalies personally gave me part of its perceptual contagion. If I'm normal again then something is wrong and we need to move.
Avella: What? At least let me —
(Skyler's begins to sprint down the remaining section of the tunnel towards the Deepwell, and Avella is unable to match her. He continuous to sprint after her, then slows to a jog. A minute later, he meets her at lip of the tunnel's exit.)
Skyler: Hey.
Avella: Hey. God. Don't run off like that! I probably just mixed up the doses or — what the fuck is that.
(SCP-4051's cut successfully punctured the outer shell of the Deepwell, terminating in the ceiling above the entry catwalk and allowing a view of the interior. Suspended in midair is a sphere containing the Deepwell proper, surrounded by a shell of metal and inner-lined functional Scranton Reality Anchors to suppress anomalous influence. All SRAs present appear to have experienced mechanical failure and detonation, and the central sphere is enveloped in green flames.)
<End Log>
