PROJECT THAUMIEL

PROJECT THAUMIEL

Does T h e Black Moon Howl?

The following works were written for the

SCP FOUNDATION by: TroyL, Oboebandgeek99, Cerastes, EstrellaYoshte, Lt Flops, Elenee FishTruck, UncertaintyCrossing + Anonymous, & chiifu.

Arranged in this format by: The Gifter

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

CALVIS

7

TroyL CORVUS

13

TroyL CYGNUS

17

TroyL LUX

21

TroyL PILA

27

TroyL ROTA

35

TroyL VIRR

39

TroyL VISIUM TroyL

45

5

CAPITIS

51

Oboebandgeek99 EXANIMIS

61

Cerastes FLOS

67

EstrellaYoshte ILLAC

75

Lt Flops NUMERUS

83

Elenee FishTruck SERUS

89

UncertaintyCrossing + Anonymous UMBRA chiifu

97

Calvis - TroyL

8

CALVIS

E

mergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Project 001-Future Sight has been enacted and regarded as a success. Text was recovered by having SCP-187 examine the terminal at Site-██. Her copied text was then sent through SCP-758 to correct it, and then translated by Dr. ████████. Immediate communication with O5-██, O5-██, and O5-██ is enacted. Operation Thaumiel is in full effect. Repeat: this is not a drill. Operation Thaumiel is in full action.

DO NOT DISREGARD. Repeat: Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is in full action.

Communique recovered from Site-██ read as follows: 1. And lo, I cried unto the Ephesians, the Smyrnanites, the Pergamonians, the Thyatirans, the Sardinians, the Philadelphians, and the Leodicians to hear my cry! And they have heard it not.

2. For the Ephesians, ye are unto sowers of chaos and ruin, and so though shalt reape. For thou hast strayed from the path, the true path, and shall receive none of my glory.

The hand of God will smite thee and thine power shall be as sand, and the strength of your arms shall be as straw which, when smote, is broken.

3. And ye Smyrnanites, truly thou are of the hands of the adversary, consorting with demons in thine great, hidden place, where eyes seek but do not find. The books shall be burned up, and the doors, and the eyes of all man and

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beast within it.

4. Alas, ye Pergamonians, to thou the name has been given, and thou has heard it not! Ye have turned to the cog and wheel and written a new name upon it and sought God there, but he is not there, for he is above and not of your hands. The abomination that thou has sought to craft will be no more, and its blood and body will be as a river of copper and brass.

5. And ye Thyatirans, my good and loyal servants who have endured and waged war on things of Satan—though thou has consorted with him, your soul is pure and clean, and I shall welcome you into the war and into the victory of heaven.

6. Ye Sardinians, lo, thou has been unto a thorn in the side of heaven, and God has tired of this suffering and will pluck you out, for one of thee dwells in outer darkness, and the other two of thine unholy trinity will join him, and be cast forth into the void.

7. Lo, Philadelphians, thou hear not my words or my will, for you do no listen. You hands have turned upon themselves and your creations are as abominations and sin in the eyes of God. Truly, thou are of a sinful heart and mind, given only to works of evil and the mad, and shall not thine sins find thee out?

8. And ye Laodocians. Truly, thou are of the greatest of the sinners, for all thine good and loyal works, thou heapest more suffering upon those who have done no wrong in the eyes of God. Truly, thou are as a saint who, upon saving the souls of many, dashes their faith against a stone and watches as it tumbles into the sea. Salvation wast

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CALVIS

thine goal, and salvation thou has dealt, but salvation shall not be delivered unto you. Thou shalt be delivered unto mine hand.

9. Ye churches of the world! Hear mine voice and tremble!

The gates are open! The seals are broken! The trumpets have sounded!

10. We are riding forth.

The date on the communique was listed as: 2021/12/02 Repeat. Repeat. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation lo though I walk through the valley Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu.

Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. fear no evil, for thou art with me Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. thy rod and thy staff Operation Thaumiel is in full action. Do not disregard. Emergency Level X-Ray-Zulu-Zulu. Operation Thaumiel is they comfort me in full action. Do not disregard. Operation dwell in the house of the Lord Thaumiel is in full ac Amen

TroyL:

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Corvus - TroyL

14

CORVUS

I

know my eyes look sunken without actually touching them.

They always do, now days.

I can feel them—them—both pressed against my chest, just above my heart, and for the first time in eons, I push a smile onto my face. This will be it, then. One last swipe, one last… Ending. But it was worth it, wasn’t it?

I have to believe that it was. If I didn’t, I’d have put a bullet in my head a long time ago. Or a knife in my gut. Or a grith behind my ear. Depends on the universe, after all. As I drum my fingers along the ark, I allow myself to reminisce. I only do it now, at the end.

It’s the only time I dare to. Because I’m sure that—at any other moment—my conscience would get the better of me. It’s odd, I admit, thinking like that. I’d thought it was gone, along with Alyssa, but it’s still there. It nags at me.

Leaving home was hard, after all. Quite hard. Not just for me emotionally, but… the science there, I couldn’t begin to fully comprehend. Imagine, just for a moment, you’re floating above the world. Now, imagine it suddenly being stabbed open by some invisible, incomprehensible thing. The world cracking open like a filthy, blue egg—oceans falling down the sides helplessly, the lava generating huge gouts of steam. And an uneven keening sound.

You may imagine that it’s the sudden steam, but I’ve lived long enough to know better.

It’s screaming.

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Now… imagine falling into that. Falling and falling and falling until you hit the ground. And when you get up… it looks like the same, damned place. The same people. Evolution is, if nothing else, remarkably consistent.

Now, do that for a thousand lifetimes. And tell me you don’t feel guilt.

I feel old. And I am old. But I’m also nearly done. After this one, I should be able to put my work to use… To change things for the better. Which made it so much worse when you walked in my office. And I knew, when you looked at me, what you were about to do.

“I can explain,” I say. But the gun is leveled at my chest. And I know that I’m out of supplies. I reach into my pocket quietly, pulling out the key card and my diary.

“You don’t know what this means for you,” I say.

“It means you aren’t going to kill us all,” you respond.

I stand up. I look at you closely and shake my head. “No. It means that you’ll have to. The key code is Thaum—” The shot echoes in the small room, and I feel the hollow point hitting my chest like a sledge hammer, feel ribs splintering and sinking into my lung, my organs being ravaged. And I smile. And I laugh. And through bloody spittle, I manage to barely gasp enough breath to speak.

“Good luck,” I say. You’re not smiling.

And I hope, for the millionth time, that all universes share one heaven. And I hope, for the millionth time, that I can see you in it from my special hell.

CYGNUS - TroyL

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CYGNUS

“I was hoping this could wait, gentlemen,” O5-1 said, sitting back in his chair and sighing heavily.

“I was afraid that was what this was…” replied Eleven, running her fingers over her ear, pushing her hair back. “Are we sure we want to do this? There’s a good chance that the ramifications could be far further stretching than we originally considered.”

“Perhaps, but then, we’d also run the risk of something worse.

Stagnation is always better than deterioration. I wake up, look at the notes, and realize that I’ve got new memories… New things that I’ve done that I couldn’t have. I just… couldn’t.”

Three glanced up, his face ashen. “I… Do any of you remember me… being Hitler?” he asked.

Seven raised his hand, nodding a little bit to the ashen-faced man, then slowly lowered it. “Just as much as I remember recruiting Thirteen,” he said, jerking his head toward the other end of the table.

One glanced up at the room, his assembled friends and family, everyone who had meant anything to him for the past century.

“We’re in agreement then?” he asked. “In spite of the consequences?”

Everyone sat silently.

“Well,” he said. “Let’s update our records…”

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Additional Information On Protocol ZK-001-Alpha

Do Not Attempt To Resist

MEMETIC KILL AGENT ENGAGED. THAUMIEL INITIATIVE ACTIVATED.

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Lux - TroyL

22

LUX

T

imothy Dalton’s young hands shook with the exuberance that only a child can feel. It had been two weeks to the day. To the day! And now, it should finally be here! He ran home, grinning the entire way, dragging his backpack behind him.

He rushed to the mailbox, opening it and peering inside, his smile falling away. It was empty. He sighed, slowly dragging his bag after himself, walking up the step of his house. He dropped off his backpack on the kitchen table and got a glass of water, sipping it as his mother walked into the room, leaning over to kiss his head.

When she stood back up, she frowned gently. “What’s wrong, hun?” she asked. She only called him ‘hun’ when she wanted to be sweet to him.

“Did I… get any mail today?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Were you expecting something?” she asked.

“You didn’t sign up for something, did you?” she asked, more sternly.

“N-no…” he lied. “I was just… hoping to hear from my penpal…”

She didn’t believe him, but his disappointment was enough to ease her anger. ‘Probably just a stupid mailing list again…’ she thought. Already, he’d gotten Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Scientologists… Ever since he’d learned his address, they’d been getting mail and fliers.

She kissed his head again. “Maybe tomorrow…” she said. “Now,

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head up to your room and take care of your homework.”

He nodded, taking his bag and heading up the stairs, tossing it onto his bed. He walked over to his desk and sat at it, turning on the old computer his parents let him have, almost not noticing the box sitting to the left of it.

It was wrapped in brown paper, with a string around it. It looked like a package out of a movie. With trembling hands, he reached for it, taking it and pulling off the paper quickly, stopping and tugging at the string, frustrated until it broke with a quick snap, opening it and seeing…

It was beautiful. Shining silver—who cared if it was plastic?—with lights running up and down either side. It looked exactly like the picture. He pointed it out the window, pulling the trigger and grinning as all the lights flashed and a high pitched sound, just like from a movie, issued from it. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he slipped it into his pocket, hurrying out of his room and down the stairs again, shouting to his mother as he flew out the door: “I’ll be at Johnny’s house!”

“What about your homework?” she shouted back, but he was already gone, running down the street, eager to show off his new acquisition.

When he got there, he found Johnny in the yard, playing with his imagination, running and gunning. Tim smiled, jumping out from behind a tree and shouting loudly, intending to scare as he pulled out his new toy. “I’ll fix you, Space Man!” Johnny jumped, turning and then frowning, angry at having been sneaked up on.

“That’s not funny, Ti—” His voice died away as Tim pulled the trigger. He stopped for a moment, then slumped to the ground, falling in a heap. Tim

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LUX

smiled a little, laughing and running to him. “Johnny! Johnny! Isn’t it neat?!” he asked, laughing and smiling.

But Johnny didn’t respond.

Simon Hayden opened the box, smiling and grinning as he took out the toy, eyes wide and expectant. He turned, showing to his little brother who’s face practically glowed with envy. “Hey! No fair! Where’d you get that?!” he said.

“Isn’t it cool!” he said, smiling. “It’s free! You just have to go to this website and give them your address and they send you free stuff!”

His little brother got a greedy glint in his eye. “What is it?! What is it!?!”

Simon smiled, ruffling his hair playfully—and because it annoyed him—and grinned. “Just go to www.thefactory.net…”

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PILA - TroyL

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PILA

D

r. Ronald Stimson sighed softly to himself, going deeper and deeper into the facility. The heavy briefcase chained to his arm made him wince with every step, the additional weight throwing him off balance enough to put a crick in his back, sending jolts of pain through him again and again. He didn’t know why he’d been selected for this duty, only that he had been. An unfortunate case of circumstance, he supposed.

After all, he was one of the last ones left alive.

He never knew Site-19 ran so deep or so far underground. The elevator had stopped after his ears had popped, and the stairs seemed to keep going forever. Hours seemed to pass before they finally stopped, and he stared at a heavy iron door. His destination.

He opened it, wincing slightly as a blast of stale air hit his nose. He walked in, turning on the ventilation and closing the door behind him, hearing it lock with an echoing click of finality. He set the briefcase on the table and sighed heavily, detaching it from his wrist at last and opening it, pulling out a a file folder and setting it on the table.

He sat down in front of it, knowing the procedure, and closed his eyes, breathing deep. It was a terrible risk. The worst one left. But it was all they had, now.

He opened the file and turned the first page.

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SCP-3245: The Living Storm Object Class: Euclid Description: SCP-3245 is a cloud fro— He closed it again, then reopened it.

SCP-3246: Hell Object Class: Euclid Description: SCP-3246 is a dimension parallel to our own, accessible only by— He closed it, sighing more deeply, shaking his head. “This is wrong… Why did they think this would work?”

SCP-3247: The Atomic Ghost Object Class: Keter Description: SCP-3247 was first noted in 2046, when it leveled the city of Hiroshi— He slammed it shut, holding his head in his hands. “No, god damn it!” he screamed. “I don’t care! I don’t care if they won, this isn’t right! We can’t just do this!”

He shoved the file away from himself, getting up and pacing the room. They were dead, of course. All those people now. Every last one mentioned in the report. Just like his friends. His family. Dead.

And he’d as good as killed them.

He paced the room, wondering how quickly the population on the surface was dropping. How much longer they would last. He closed his eyes, the stress of just breathing making him ache. He walked to the papers, reaching down and picking them up, sitting

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PILA

back down at the table.

SCP-4474: The Apocalypse Object Class: Keter Description: SCP-4474 was first observed in 1864, when an event believed to be the Biblical rapture— He hated himself.

SCP-6449: The Duke of Nevermore Object Class: Euclid Description: SCP-6449 first contacted the Foundation after becoming aware of his omniscience and realizing that he was a danger to the unive— He wanted to die.

SCP-8140: Doctor Wondertainment Object Class: Safe Description: SCP-8140 was captured by the Foundation in 2018 after his production run of Mister Ender caused— He was sure he deserved it by now. Positive of it. Completely positive.

He stared at the ceiling. He was sure, sometime in the past, he’d heard screaming somehow. Screaming from the top of the world.

Claws scratching at the door at one point. Felt himself choke for an instant. But he was almost done. He closed his eyes, blinking so he could see again, and closed the file, opening it slowly.

SCP-9996: Yourself

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Object Class: Keter Description: Look what you did, Ronald. They’re gone now. All of them.

He stared at the short page. He had to be hallucinating. Wasn’t there one of these that would make you go crazy if you just knew about it? Had he been infected?

SCP-9997: It’s still you, Ronald.

Object Class: Keter Description: You ended the world, Ronald. This was a stupid plan when they came up with it, and you knew it.

He closed it again, gagging slightly. Then opened it.

SCP-9998: Ronald Stimson Object Class: Keter Description: You wanted this. You wanted this almost as much as I did. Things would have been fine, you know?

Perfectly fine. But they were too proud. And you were too willing. And now, look at what you did. Your wife. Your family. Everyone and everything you ever loved. Thank you, Ronald. Thank you. Now, there’s just one loose end.

He closed it, then opened it again, hands shaking.

SCP-9999: A Gun Object Class: Thaumiel Description: It’s right next to you, Ronald. Loaded. Waiting. Go ahead. You know what to do.

Stimson turned, looking down at the revolver. He reached for it,

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PILA

picking it up and cocking the trigger, his face ashen. Almost automatically, he put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger, ending the last human life on the planet with a sudden thrash, sending the papers flying away from him, landing on the floor near his foot, the first page open again…

SCP-001: A Sheaf of Papers Object Class: Keter Description...

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Rota - TroyL

36

ROTA

I

t hurts… They don’t know that it hurts, but it does. So badly.

Every time I try to speak, it just gets worse. They come at me, prod me, examine me… They pull things open, cut into my flesh… And when I try to run, they just make it worse. Even when I look at them, it just gets worse…

I can’t breathe. The air here is so… wrong. I miss my home, but they won’t let me go… Why won’t they just let me go?

The others sent some of them looking for me… Not many, but some. I can feel them. At first, it was just the watching one and a few of the others. The unknowable one. Then… they sent them.

And not just one of them. They sent… so many. The rooms. The worlds. Chunks of the universe even. Whole races, uprooted, thrown through the void. For me. All for me. Even the dragon came, and that… that was scary. I never thought they’d send her.

She’s close. She can smell me. She keeps trying to reach me, but these new ones keep her locked up too…

I’m not that important. It was just the one, wasn’t it? Just one of them. So sweet. Succulent. How was I supposed to know what would happen to her? I was just following my nature. And her skin was so soft…

They want me gone. Destroyed. All of them. Even the ones that used to love me…

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These new ones… they suffocate me. Blind me. Hurt me. I burn them and cut them and tear at them, and they WON’T LET ME GO! THEY JUST KEEP HURTING ME! I just want to RUN! To be FREE! To FEED. I just want their skins.

VIRR - TroyL

40

E

VIRR

verett, my good man. Please… Sit down. No, I insist.

It’s time we had a chat, the two of us. No, I think this is the perfect time. It’s not like we’re going to get another. Not with the way things are now. We’ve got a possible plan, but I don’t think Stimson will be successful. He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, you know. Not at all… Not at all…

You see, my boy, I understand you. I understand you quite perfectly. All the rest think you’re varying levels of sinner and saint, that you somehow understand something special about us, that you might make the next, logical successor for one of us… They’re all quite right, to some level. You certainly are passionate. I could see you doing anything to uphold the mission of the Foundation.

Anything at all.

You should have done it already, Everett. You should have found all thirteen of us, pulled out a gun, and shot us in the head. Don’t pretend that you hadn’t already considered it. I know that you’ve got plans for us, for each of us, that would be at least moderately successful. You’d probably have eliminated the bulk of them.

Probably. Not me, though. Not that it matters now, anyway.

But now, it’s too late. Far, far too late. We let things go on too long.

Let them snowball. I don’t doubt that you’ll struggle to the very end. You strike me as the sort to, honestly. Admirable. One of the few admirable things about you, really.

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Do you know when I realized I wasn’t playing God, Everett? I’ll tell you. It was when they wouldn’t let me bring my son back. Do you know how long it took me to get to this point? This point in my life? I don’t age, Mann. I may never die, if all things go well. I wanted a family, though… Silly of me, wasn’t it? Wanting a family. I had one. They took them from me, though. One at a time. T.J. Elliot.

Jack… Poor Jack.

When did you first figure it out, Everett? What we were really doing?

Heh. I suppose that makes sense. The Insurgency always was our biggest hole. Could never find a way to explain it away… Agatha tried a few times, but… Ahh, well. Makes sense, I suppose… And when did you find out that we were— Really? Hmm… Well, it’s too late for that to matter now. They’ve done it, whoever they are. Whatever we called forth through that blasted chink in the universe’s armor. You want to know the best part, Doctor? I don’t regret any of it.

None of it, Everett. Not that ridiculous lizard or its brood, not those little crabs that slice and cut like they’re nothing, not the madmen or the demons or the cakes—the god damned cakes!

We were trying to feed the world, Mann! We didn’t realize what we were doing! We never realized what we were doing! NEVER! We just… we didn’t realize… We wanted to make the world better, and then… Things fell apart. Things always fall apart…

Yes, I know. I’m completely mad. We all were. We’d have to be, for what we did. But we were mad with a purpose. Creation… Blissful, glorious creation. We were God in the garden, Everett. And we wanted you to join us so badly. You had so many fantastic ideas…

Why, the Thaumiel initiative you proposed was sheer brilliance…

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VIRR

But it’s too late, Everett. Far too late. And now… Well, I know you keep the gun in your top, left hand drawer. If you don’t mind? On your way out?

Thank you, my boy. And try to enjoy the last few moments you have. Rage, my boy! Rage against the dying of the lig—

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Visium - TroyL

46

VISIUM

D

octor Matthews sat back in his chair, sighing some and rubbing his eyes. Why the hell had they dragged him out of bed so early? He stifled a yawn and smiled as his field partner, an agent named Stimson, sat down next to him, leaning back in his own chair with a similar expression on his face.

“We shouldn’t have been out drinking so late…” Stimson whispered.

Matthews laughed a little, looking at the slowly filling auditorium. “I know,” he replied. “We should have just gone to bed and woken up ready to work,” he said. “It’s only our day off, after all…”

Stimson shook his head some. “God… Did you see those two research assistants from Site-11?” he asked. Matthews leaned forward a bit, nodding. “You get their numbers?” he asked. Stimson laughed. “Got more than that… You should have stuck around…”

Matthews grit his teeth for a moment in frustration. “Damnit, Stimson… Why the hell do you tell me these things?” he asked.

Stimson snickered as a finger struck a microphone, calling for attention. Matthews sat back in his chair, looking toward the stage as a man in an impeccable suit stepped out, looking at them all and nodding. “Hello,” he said, his voice an odd mix of intonations.

“I want to welcome you all this morning and apologize for getting you up so early…”

Stimson rolled his shoulder a little bit as Matthews leaned over,

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whispering in his ear. “Who is this guy?” he asked.

Stimson shrugged as the man on stage continued. “I wanted to talk with you all for a moment… about our mission. It’s important, you know… very, very important…”

Matthews frowned. Why the hell was this guy speaking like that? he thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment. He shook his head, trying again to clear the haze of sleep and drink.

Stimson leaned close again. “Isn’t he an O5?” he asked.

Matthews shook his head, squinting his eyes tightly, trying to concentrate on the words again. “… all of them must be collected.

The plan must proceed as scheduled…”

Stimson nodded. “Yeah, he’s an O5… I’m sure of it.”

The other shook his head again. “No, he isn’t…” Matthews said.

“I’ve seen the O5’s…” He sniffed at the air a little, wondering why he suddenly smelled popcorn. “… and as soon as we’ve got them all collected, contained… Our work will have finally begun. We cannot let them stop us, slow us down…”

Matthews head ached for a sharp moment, blood running from a nostril as his temples throbbed. He brought his palms to his eyes, shocked to feel his heart beating through them. And then… a sudden pain just behind his right ear, and he slumped backwards.

“We will serve. Contain. Protect,” the man intoned. “And then…

We can begin.”

Everyone started clapping their hands together as the speech ended. Everyone except Matthews and two or three others scattered throughout the crowd. Stimson rose, clapping hard, trying

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VISIUM

to make his own applause heard over the others. When he heard the chant, he cursed inwardly for not thinking of it himself first, but picked it up nonetheless: “Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen! Thirteen!”

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CAPITIS - Oboebandgeek99

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CAPITIS

“T

he Fountain of Youth?” I asked, in disbelief.

“Well, think about it. Who’s more qualified to do our jobs than us?” he replied. I wasn’t sure what to say. “Transferring knowledge from one person to the next, it’s just a huge liability. Look, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Is this going to happen to me, or am I the exception? Is that why I’m here? Do I get a choice in the matter? Did I ever have one to begin with?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“Are you sure we should be doing so much crosstesting?” I asked, concerned about the information I’d just learned.

“We are currently performing an acceptable amount of crosstesting as determined by me,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Sometimes we need anomalous means to contain the anomalous.

And any experiment that leads to a better understanding of the anomaly is a successful one in my book.”

Why’d we even begin crosstesting? What about all the unsuccessful experiments? How can you possibly weigh the costs and gains?

How have you been affected by this testing?

Oboebandgeek99

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I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“So we just have to do what the GOC says?” I asked, frustrated.

“Look, the truth is that they kind of have dirt on us for violating a lot of international treaties. They choose to not try and bring us to justice so that we can do our job, which makes their job much easier, and sometimes that means not interfering. It’s for the best.”

How can that be for the best if we can’t do anything? If we’re under their thumb who’s to say they won’t use us to do their dirty work?

Are we just supposed to let them take over even when we know better? How could you let this happen?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“Wait, we got that intel from Prometheus?” I asked, deeply confused.

“I know, but every once in a while, they actually hit on some kind of breakthrough.” He said, dismissively. “They recognize us as something of another scientific authority on the anomalous, and even they realize sometimes it’s better for us to understand the weirdness going on than to make a quick buck. It’s just smart business practices.”

But if we got the intel from Prometheus, how do we know it’s real?

Why couldn’t we just figure these things out on our own? Why would we ever even reach out to a group like Prometheus? And why would they ever agree to help us?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

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CAPITIS

“So you’re a robot?” I asked bluntly.

“Well, not in the way you’re thinking of. But I am an artificially preserved intelligence inside of a roughly humanoid structure whose insides are primarily metallic, yes. I mean, it makes sense to have a machine’s perspective, doesn’t it?”

Why do we need a machine’s perspective? Are you sure you can even properly represent that? Does this mean you’re more machine than human? How can you possibly see both sides when you’re stuck in between?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“Forty years ago?” I asked, processing the insanity of it all.

“But hey, they brought me back better than before. Eternal youth doesn’t make us inherently immortal, and it was easier to bring me back than to try and make a new set of containment procedures.”

Is that really the best possible option? Are we just playing god with this resurrection? At what point do the dead stop being human?

Shouldn’t we have an understanding of our own mortality to make the best judgments?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“So you’re in bed with Marshall, Carter, and Dark?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around it.

“It’s not like that,” he replied. “Marshall gives us some valuable intel, and in return, I direct the Foundation’s attention away from the sale of small anomalies, things no one will care are missing.”

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55

And why are you the go-between? Are you getting some kind of special deal? Why even tell this to me? Surely, you must realize this crosses so many lines?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“Antimemetics?” I asked, trying to pick apart the etymology.

“An entire division dedicated to studying the things we can’t remember. Only, it seems to rub off on the personnel working there, intentional or not. In order to have meaningful discussions, you have to keep taking those mnestics.”

So I have to be drugged just to remember you exist? Have we even studied the long term effects of these pills? Have we met before and you’re not even telling me? How can we fight things we don’t know exist if we can’t even remember the solutions?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“We’re sending it back?” I asked, wondering what their game was.

“Every now and then, ORIA is right. Rarely, but sometimes we really are just in over our heads and it’s better to let them handle it.

And sometimes letting them have the anomaly is just the right thing to do.”

But how could they possibly hope to contain it? Did they have to leverage something on us to get this back? What reason could we have to return this freely? Are you letting your beliefs cloud your judgment?

56

CAPITIS

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“So you can do magic?” I asked, absorbing the implications of this revelation.

“Well, of course. Those who dwell in the Library freely share this knowledge. And why shouldn’t we use their tactics to give ourselves an advantage?”

Are we sure we should be utilizing forces we don’t fully understand?

Is it wise to trust any information given to us by the Library? What is the cost of using magic? Do the benefits really outweigh the costs?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“The Chaos Insurgency?” I asked, practically spitting out the words.

“Look, sometimes our goals align. It’s much easier to have an untrustworthy ally than a flat out enemy. Mutually assured destruction is a great motivator for collaboration. So we let some things slide and they don’t try to murder us. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a win-win.”

So we just let one of the biggest threats to normalcy go on undisturbed? How can we possibly trust the Insurgency to not attack first? Or is it that you’re under their thumb? How do I know you’re not one of them?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

Oboebandgeek99

57

“How long has this been going on?” I asked, horrified. “…I can’t recall.” She said, hesitation in her voice. “It’s better this way. Benign anomalies have almost no effect on me. And the more dangerous ones… at least they’re not hurting anyone else.

I can take it, so why should some poor normie have to risk it all?”

At what point do the tests affect you so much you can no longer accurately represent humanity? How can you claim this is for the best when all this testing is unnecessary? What benefits have you gained from testing benign anomalies?

What will I have to do to stop you?

I said nothing, and the conversation turned to other things.

“So all this time, it was just a red herring?” I asked, almost sighing with relief.

“Rather, a gray one.” At this, the two of us laughed. For once, my mind went blank. I closed my eyes, allowing myself a moment of respite before he asked the question I should’ve seen coming.

“What makes you so sure it ends today?”

“Because I made it so,” I said nonchalantly. “All I had to do was poison One’s coffee.”

“And you’re certain this is for the best?”

“They brought me in for an outside perspective. They were too far gone, and would not have listened to me if I’d told them that. Like Ceasar before them, they sought too much power and it would be the downfall of us all. I had to stop them.” I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the twinge of regret. “The next overseers will do better. I’ll make sure of it.”

58

CAPITIS

“But you remember what happened after Ceasar was killed,” the man said, mysteriously. “The Romans entered a new age, true. But in order to do so, the Republic had to fall.”

I said nothing, and we both fell silent as miles away, the sun set on the Ides of March.

Oboebandgeek99

59

EXANIMIS - Cerastes

62

EXANIMUS

W

hat could possibly go wrong?

It seemed like such a harmless request. An invitation from an old friend to their social circle, one who knew about his voracious hunger for the mysteries of the world. Sure, he knew of the club’s grim reputation, everyone had in those days… but he knew his friend, and he knew his own self. thought to himself, what could possibly go wrong?

Far away from his thoughts, he groaned in pain, shifting against the chafing restraints. With movement came the voices.

“Subject Alpha is seizing, hold him down. Movement will ruin the procedure.”

Heavy arms came, holding him down to the table. It was always the same crew, three women and two men. Six out of seven days, they would do nothing but watch, take notes, talk to each other about arcane measurements he had no scale of reference to.

Occasionally others would come in. They were always terrified of them. He had no idea who those faceless men and women were.

They seemed to know him however.

On the seventh day— The scalpel cut into him again, and he screamed. They did not hate him, or fear him. He just wasn’t a person to them anymore.

He was a canvas, to be shaped whatever way they pleased.

Cerastes

63

What could possibly go wrong?

He had originally volunteered for this, what felt like countless ages ago. Who wouldn’t have, the way the circle had described it? He thought he would become a living god, but he became a slave instead. As quickly as they had welcomed him, they turned on him.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror once. A wretched misshapen mass, no longer a man, but a tangle of twisted scars held together by sinew. Seeing what they had done changed things, he thought to himself, and he saw all the willpower drain out of him.

He no longer fought, he no longer begged, he no longer cursed his captors. He just existed.

Once, he had dared to hope. He had woken from another dream of the howling dark to hear running and shouting. Then there was gunfire, explosions. Screams. Could something have happened.

Could someone have come to rescue him?

He didn’t recognize them, these black garbed soldiers speaking of “anomalies” and “task forces” and “subject alphas.” But they were kind. They had bandaged his wounds, and carefully brought him on their helicopter. One man went so far as to help him eat a nutrient bar — he almost cried. He hadn’t eaten real food in ages.

But they left, and the doctors came. They wheeled him into a strange room, taking all sorts of measurements of him. They studied the marks his former colleagues had made on him, consulted arcane books, and brought stranger after stranger to examine him and make soft-spoken remarks to be written down.

And then they picked up the scalpel, and began to carve.

He screamed again. He could no longer remember who he was, or the shape of his own face. All his world was now the cut of the

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EXANIMUS

scalpel. All his world was now pain. All he wanted for it was to stop.

All he wanted was to die.

Cerastes

65

FLOS - EstrellaYoshte

68

FLOS

T-minus 00:06:16 | Site-15 Exterior, East Camera

The time is nigh, my dearest friends

(Dr. Nadir Shahid approaches Designer Sonia Crowsworth, who is lying in the flower field by the lake.)

Dr. Shahid: Crowsworth.

Desigr. Crowsworth: Oh! Hello there Nadir. Care to join me?

(Crowsworth pats the spot besides her. Three seconds of silence passes.)

69

EstrellaYoshte

Dr. Shahid: …Alright.

(Dr. Shahid sits down slowly.)

Desigr. Crowsworth: So how’s your son? Still planning to go to his dream college?

Dr. Shahid: Planning no more, he got his letter of acceptance just last week. Been negotiating with me for a new car, the little rascal.

Desigr. Crowsworth: I’d say he deserves it, ya dingus! And give him my congratulations.

(Sounds of hundreds of wings flapping echo above head.)

Dr. Shahid: What about you Crowsworth? Anything exciting recently?

Desigr. Crowsworth: Jackie wanted to go for a walk this morning!

It’s like my baby got new springs in her steps again. I’ll let you play with her sometimes!

Dr. Shahid: I’m afraid your Bullmastiff might crush me, but thanks for the offer.

(The flowers briefly become violet.)

T-minus 00:04:38 | Site-19, Breakroom Camera

One day, I hope to see you again (Various Foundation researchers and D-Classes engages in social interactions, consuming an assortment of foods and drinks.)

70

FLOS

(A researcher fumbles a large bottle, accidentally spraying surrounding personnel with soda.)

(Everyone laughs.)

(A vase of orchids is set on the counter.)

T-minus 00:03:52 | Site-15 Exterior, East Camera

For those who sleep in graves of the dark Crowsworth: -nce, I’m glad I finished all my work ahead of time.

Shahid: You, being productive? Am I hearing this right? What’s the world coming to?

Crowsworth: Shut up, Nadir.

(Crowsworth punches Shahid in the arm.)

Crowsworth: I just… thought it felt right - completing them, ya know?

(A brief moment of silence lapses.)

Shahid: …I know.

(The weight of a million things left unsaid dissipates.)

(The sky turns lavender, then darkens.)

EstrellaYoshte

T-minus 00:02:00 | Overwatch Command

Promises of reprieve shall let you be O5-1: One last drink for the night, gentlemen?

(O5-1 raises his champagne glass. The rest follows.)

(The light grows strong. The shadow grows long.)

(Strong scents of hyacinth registered.)

T-minus 00:01:00 | Site-15 Exterior, East Camera

To those who can accept the light Sonia: …What’s left for us, Nadir?

(Nadir ponders. He picks a purple lily and gives it to Sonia.)

Nadir: All the time in the world.

(Sonia accepts it, and nods.)

(The stars’ brightness increases sharply for 45 seconds.)

(Then they go out.)

71

72

FLOS

T-minus 00:00:10

Smile, you’re going to be free (In unity, we speak.)

T-minus 00:00:08 | Site-19, Breakroom Camera

Site-19 Personnel: We secured.

T-minus 00:00:05 | Overwatch Command

O5 Council: We contained.

T-minus 00:00:02 | Site-15 Exterior, East Camera

Sonia & Nadir: We protected.

T-minus 00:00:01

O death, may you be the key (And now, we rest.)

(For the world has its eye on us.)

EstrellaYoshte

T-minus 00:00:00

To our victory Our sanctuary

(And it is beautiful.)

73

ILLAC - Lt Flops

76

ILLAC

F

our-thousand years ago, when we fled the Hate-filled Light aboard humanity’s last surviving starship, we had much to think about. Such thoughts included: impressions of our species, burned to ash; our Foundation’s dying wish; and whether our prospective, new world would hold promise.

Of those thoughts, two notions proved to grip our minds hardest.

First — we believed we were the gods’ Fifty Immortal Children.

That hope, however, dashed: Our bodies were dying. But it wasn’t the Light’s hateful doing; in fact, severance from EarthPrime brings mortality. Our bodies age, each well into our third century. Wounds never heal. Abrasion and scarring fight Pyrrhic wars on senescent skin.

In pain, we cried for Ninurta’s forgiveness. O, Protector. Hasten our journey! Wrench the swelling sorrow from our lives! But he supplied no sign.

We vowed, then, to enter cryogenic stasis. We never knew if we’d wake; what we’d do…

Lt Flops

77

When we awoke at our destination, 1.6 billion light-years away, we learned of new misfortunes. We discovered fourteen among us had perished. They each rejected living for a few years longer in hibernation. They rejected being the Fifty Immortals humanity needed. They embraced their selfish desires of damning their souls, of wandering the Land of No Return in perpetuity.

And instead of pursuing their duty — our duty — we found their bare, dried bones sprawled across a lower deck.

And when we learned this planet — the only Earth-like planet in two billion light-years — could not sustain us?

We then believed — second — that we had carried death with us.

We thought this planet, rare to an aberrant degree, existed only to constrain us. To suck us dry — not the reverse. And now I can grasp why it pains us…

Some celestial malevolence must have placed this planet here to slaughter us. To lure us across the Cosmos, and when we are vulnerable, strike us down. The Hate-filled Light could do it if it spent aeons — but we, alone? Alone, we arrived quicker. Into the trap.

Beyond our starship’s hull, novel bacteria germinate, letting off an abundance of O2 — toxic to our current bodies. We cannot breathe it. We hold the tools to repopulate — the equipment to construct a new human body plan and let it surge back, by the millions. We, commanding humanity to conquer Earth, all over again.

We could… … But our hearts are heavy.

78

ILLAC

On the brink of letting civilization flourish anew, on this New Earth, we know in our hearts this is fleeting. Even if we fulfill our ultimate responsibility; even if we complete our work, even if we survive? The Hate-filled Light will come, again, and destroy all we built.

What is this, then, but a cancer? What slows the tide but thousands of wasted generations?

What if… We simply didn’t build ourselves back up?

This is a question most of us arrived at naturally. Most. A few others among us have, unfortunately, continued sustaining hope.

But if we could correct that…

One calm night — mere hours before we planned on activating Operation Thaumiel, powering up Aberration-2000, and sparking human civilization 2.0 — we decided to act against them. If we failed, their will would be done; if we prospered, we would inevitably die.

It was three-to-one. Of the thirty-six humans who remained, twenty-seven lost hope — I among them. The nine remaining — the hopefuls — did not scream. There was no bloody call in the night. There had been no struggle. Instead, while they slept, we considered their gleaming hibernal caskets… … With our technology, those could run indefinitely — couldn’t they?

We squeezed their arms and legs together and hurled them

Lt Flops

79

into the frigid maws of cryogenic stasis units. We reinforced the outer seals. We smashed the time-locks and concealed the units with tarps. Where they awoke terrified, seconds before, the floor now sat empty.

Our Founder, too, lies in stasis — but we will not release him.

He poses the most significant chance at restarting our civilization — our Foundation — among us. This cannot be.

We demolished everything next. We burned all data files, ripped keepsakes to shreds. Our might against survival — against the continued survival of our species — was voracious. There is no going back.

Our experimentation subject, that vague reptile let skittering loose into the desolate continent beyond our landing site, will be the first — and last — to awaken on this planet, and one day, feel the Light return from the clutches of space-time. But, for us solitary few, we will not suffer the tragic directives that shepherded us here. That urged us to build a new Foundation, so our people might bask again in a harmonious shelter beneath a familiar golden sun.

This planet, if it bears fruit as the onboard computer detected?

It will grow without us.

We are The Last.

We lost everything. Our bedrock. Our people. Our future. The gods paved the way forward, but treacherous we found it, and now we are tired. We have been ground down — a reflection of those fourteen who could not go on. We are fatigued, weighted by the despairs of billions lost to the Hate-filled Light.

But we will not have [DATA EXPUNGED] win.

80

ILLAC

The solution, I think, to eternal existence? Absolute Zero. For, inside stasis, we might finally reach the true demise the gods hid from us. We might finally contemplate on the tens of thousands of generations who got us here. And this, prolonged by our insuperable technology, will persist beneath a bed of rock and rot.

Until that final standstill of entropy; protected, while our cells sit frozen.

We are Human, and here we rest.

Lt Flops

81

Numerus - Elenee FishTruck

84

NUMERUS

Y

ou stagger around the giant, octagonal cell, holding the wall for support. You trip on a wire.

Picking yourself up, you follow the wire to its source: a hydraulic press, the cylinder warped and beaten up. Machinery clutters the room, illuminated by an overhead beacon at regular intervals.

Handy tools, chemical compounds, laser cutters, worn out and strewn about like toys in a messy child’s room. In the middle: the onyx gemstone, spotless.

You slump on a chair and spin to the desk in front. Papers spill out of folders, filled with photo-copied journal entries, historical reports, and diagrams of the gemstone.

A letter sits on one of the folders.

You open it for the hundredth time.

Yvette, I’ll be amnesticized and working in a restaurant with the initials “S.C.P.” by the time you read this. This doesn’t come as a surprise, I know, but realize that I care about you and your future immensely.

It’s a ruse. There’s nothing there. I spent my prime working on this; you’ve got some of yours left. Spend your time wisely.

Q.

Elenee FishTruck

85

“No,” you mutter, “God damn it, no!”

You open a file labeled Project Pluto - Proposal Thaumiel, that rests where the letter laid, and shuffle through the papers. Schematics of progressively complex “keys” fill the file. All the designs were tested. All the designs were put in the “defective” drawer.

You can see Q’s signature on some of the papers: Q. Hack, Site-10.

You open the drawer and pull out a key, comparing it with the design on the paper. The next one has also been tried. And the next.

You start scrambling to find a design that hadn’t been tested. You double-check, triple-check, and slam the drawer shut. You put your head in your hands. “There’s gotta be something. Anything,” you say. You peek through your fingers and spot a paper held under a lamp.

It’s a photocopy of that final page, the passkey planted in the gemstone, drawn centuries ago in Edwin Young’s journal. Edwin Young, who found the gem in a “blasted” temple. Edwin Young, who promised release in a simple key. Edwin Young, who never had to prove what he saw.

You snatch the paper, ball it up, and pitch it off the desk. You slam your head onto the metal, the bang echoing across the cell, and sob. A photograph of you and your past lab friends catches some of your tears, the hand-written “Mirski, Hack, and Stimson - 2007” smearing a bit.

“God damn it, Q,” you say, “You were right. You were fucking right.”

You turn and stand up, leaning on the pedestal where the gemstone sits. It’s warm to the touch.

You hurl the gemstone at the opposite wall, and collapse, curling into a ball.

86

NUMERUS

Q learned in his first week who the bad-faith debaters in the cafeteria were. He could see a storm from a kilometer away. Who’s to say this would help him against entities with limitless range? Inversely, Stimson trusted most everyone he met. He sealed his fate.

There couldn’t be anyone else that knew of Site-10’s existence; maybe the O5s. Who could say where the O5sClick.

You struggle to turn before you see the lock shatter, fine pieces falling and settling on the floor. A cloud of gas and light expands for a moment before dissipating into the air. On the remains of the jewel rests a golden, ornate passkey.

“Impossible” you say, picking up the key. It’s hot to the touch.

Click. The sound reverberates from above. The ground starts to unravel.

Elenee FishTruck

87

Serus - UncertaintyCrossing - Art & Anonymous - Words

90

SERUS

UncertaintyCrossing

91

92

SERUS

UncertaintyCrossing

93

94

SERUS

UncertaintyCrossing

95

UMBRA - chiifu

98

UMBRA

H

is shallow breaths staggered as he rifled through the crumpled documents. The terminal beside him printed a pile of papers. From the twenty-fifth to the twenty-fourth page, his eyes darted through, skimming the contents before moving to the next.

Cast in darkness from the light which shone through the cracks in the walls, he sat. Even the interior of Site-19 wasn’t safe from the harbinger of death. Yet, even amidst the chaos that roamed outside, there was nothing but silence.

The screams which once pierced the warm air were gone. Only he was left.

Thirteen, twelve, he lamented to himself. Encapsulated in a gathering of emotions, he couldn’t tell what was authentic, and what was self-pity. A state of confusion. He took a breath of air to calm his nerves. It didn’t do much.

Despite this, he flipped through the papers. Like a mindless being dedicated to one command, like a robot stuck in eternal servitude, like the things roaming outside.

He had to. He felt obligated to. He had to do the others justice.

Everything was on him.

That slight sliver of hope he was given when the others had said they’d found the answer kept him going. His broken mind still barely running. He could practically hear the whispers of those

chiifu

99

who gave him hope.

A minute, which felt like an entire hour, passed before he reached the end. The final document. His eyes skimmed the top of the paper, to the middle, to the end. Yet, he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

The file was supposed to update.

He looked again and again, from the top of the pile of papers, to the document he was just on. But there was nothing.

Where was the update? Did he grab the wrong iteration? Where are the answers?

And just at this moment, the terminal next to him blinked.

You have (1) new message!

He quickly put the papers down. Moving his hands across the table to reach the mouse, he clicked on the notification.

An 001 file has been updated! View the updated content?

His hands hovered over the message for a few seconds, before clicking the link. . . .

Description: SCP-001 is the designation given to the Sun, after an event caused its early collapse (by approximately 5 billion years)— Suddenly, his giggles pierced the silence. Giggles which slowly turned into laughter. Laughter which slowly descended into

100

UMBRA

madness.

This wasn’t the outcome he expected.

He slammed the desk with his fist, cracking the wood as dust flew into his eyes. He slammed the desk again. And again, and again, until his hand bloodied.

Then he stopped. His arms drooped down, his body slumped in his chair, his head looked up. He sat in this position for the next minutes. The passing time felt like an eternity.

He stood up.

Slowly, he struggled as his legs started moving away from the desk. He could feel the hands of the many that counted on him, that believed in that slight sliver of hope. The terrifyingly warm hands which pulled on his legs as he approached the door.

But it wasn’t his fault that the world died.

He walked towards the door of his once barricaded office. His hand passed the light shining through the window, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t his fault after all, so why should the lives of the others matter? They placed their lives on him, but he also was left disappointed, destroyed.

Removing the planks one by one, he kept silent. Blood from his hand splattered across the room, staining the walls and the floor.

It looked as if those spoiled, warm hands desperately tried to grip at his back. Looking back, he saw the faces of the many who believed.

Soon.

He gripped the doorknob, hesitating to open the door and step into the decay of the outside world. Anybody would hesitate to

chiifu

step into a living hell.

But the day has already broken. Who’s to say he hasn’t broken as well.

101

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IMAGE SOURCES:

Added by Gifter: ===== > **Name:** Photographie Lunaire > **Author:** Pierre Henri Puiseux > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.435668 ===== > **Name:** Strijd in de hemel > **Author:** Johannes Josephus Aarts > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.199191 ===== > **Name:** Sleutel > **Author:** Anonymous > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.26222 ===== > **Name:** Comparison of Full-Keyboard, Single-Shift, and Double-Shift Typerwriters in 1911 > **Author:** Anonymous engraver > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/ File:Comparison_of_Full-Keyboard,_Single-Shift,_and_Double-Shift_Typerwriters_in_1911.png

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===== > **Name:** Cardboard Box > **Author:** ArnoldReinhold > **License:** Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 > **Source Link:** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Box.agr.jpg ===== > **Name:** The Great Day of His Wrath > **Author:** John Martin > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:John_Martin_-_The_Great_Day_of_His_Wrath_-_Google_Art_Project. jpg ===== > **Name:** Franse machines op de Wereldtentoonstelling van 1862 > **Author:** William England > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.273442 ===== > **Name:** Vignetten met dieren en kaarsen > **Author:** Anonymous > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/collection/ RP-P-2016-934 ===== > **Name:** Aap met spiegel > **Author:** Jules de Goncourt > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.117851 ===== > **Name:** Moord op Julius Caesar

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> **Author:** Johannes Glauber > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.117182 ===== > **Name:** The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Nicolaes Tulp > **Author:** Rembrandt > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rembrandt_-_The_Anatomy_Lesson_of_Dr_Nicolaes_Tulp.jpg ===== > **Name:** Dahlias > **Author:** Willem Hekking (I) > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.247884 ===== > **Name:** Globe > **Author:** Anonymous > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.587840 ===== > **Name:** A Roman nicolo intaglio dating to the 1st-2nd century AD > **Author:** Museum of London, Kate Sumnal > **License:** Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic > **Source Link:** https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_ Roman_nicolo_intaglio_dating_to_the_1st-2nd_century_ AD._(FindID_600458).jpg ===== > **Name:** Zittende vrouw op een waterkant met bomen > **Author:** V. Franck

105

> **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.611473 ===== > **Name:** Twee mannen met een net > **Author:** Anonymous > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.35435 ===== > **Name:** De vernietiging van de toren van Babel > **Author:** Philips Galle > **License:** Public Domain > **Source Link:** http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.114519 ===== From Project Thaumiel: ===== > **Filename:** Scary_Halloween_Face_by_LadyLyonnesse-new.png > **Author:** 1artgrafx, [[*user Elenee Fishtruck]] > **Note:** Created by [[*user Elenee Fishtruck]] as an edited version of the image cited below ---> **Filename:** squid.jpg > **Author:** 1artgrafx > **License:** CC BY 2.0 > **Source:** [https://www.flickr.com/photos/artgrafx2/45624133921 Flickr] ===== > **Filename:** untitled.png

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> **Author:** [https://unsplash.com/@wilstewart3 Wil Stewart] > **License:** CC0 > **Source Link:** https://unsplash.com/photos/8weijaL92T8 > **Note:** Edited by [[*user EstrellaYoshte]] > **Filename:** untitled2newer.png > **Author:** [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Galvm Viacheslav Galievskyi] > **License:** CC BY-SA 4.0 > **Source Link:** https://search.creativecommons.org/photos/ f3c4d9d9-cf72-4ff5-b07d-2871853405a7 > **Note:** Edited by [[*user EstrellaYoshte]] ===== > **Filename:** illac-header-background-image.png > **Name:** Illac > **Author:** [http://www.wikidot.com/user:info/estrellayoshte EstrellaYoshte] > **License:** [https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-SA 3.0)] > **Source Link:** [[[http://www.scpwiki.com/desk-of-juniordesigner-s-yvonne|Desk of Junior Designer S. Yvonne]]] ===== > **Filename:** Serus.jpg > **Author:** [[*user UncertaintyCrossing]] > **License:** CC BY-SA 3.0 > **Source Link:** [http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/serus SCP Foundation Wiki] =====

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