SCP-001 (S. D. Locke's Proposal)

Item #: SCP-001

Object Class: Apollyon

Special Containment Procedures: Due to its nature, SCP-001 cannot be contained. Survivors of the SCP-001 event stationed within secure facilities are to remain in contact with one another. Personnel are encouraged to attempt to reach Site-19 by any means at their disposal.

Survivors attempting to travel outdoors must fully cover their bodies in protective clothing; preferably several layers. Travel by foot should be limited as much as possible. Cities - and man-made structures in general - provide the greatest protection. Formerly-wooded areas should be circumvented. Travel by air is preferable above all other methods.

Personnel exposed to SCP-001 are to be considered lost. Compromised personnel are to be abandoned. Euthanization is not to be attempted.

Collective instances of SCP-001-A that are of formidable size are to be avoided at all costs. Conductive electrical weapons have proven partially effective at immobilizing instances, and may be used for self-defense. Incendiary weapons work as well. Cryonic munitions are the most effective thus far.

Testing has revealed that SCP-001-A is relatively safe to consume. This is only to be considered as a last resort in the absence of other options. As SCP-001-A may reconstitute within the digestive system, only small portions should be consumed at a time to prevent blockage.

Personnel stationed at Site-19 are to pursue research concerning off-world colonization. Shuttles must be constructed as to not allow light to penetrate the interior.

To those of you with families, or God forbid, children - I'm deeply, deeply sorry, you must push on. Do not let their deaths be in vain. We do still have time.

Humanity may still have a future. Come to Site-19. We need all the hands we can get.

Learn to embrace the darkness, friends. Fear the light.

- The Administrator

Description: SCP-001 is the designation given to the Sun, after an event on [SYSTEM ERROR] Data lost: ec172. Contact SysAdmin. resulting in ~6.8 billion casualties within the first twenty-four hours. The SCP-001 effect does not seem to result from exposure to ultraviolet rays, but rather light in the visual spectrum (~390 to 700 nm). The effect is similarly present in moonlight.

Upon contact with visible light produced by the sun, living organisms liquefy at the point of contact, with the effect spreading until the entire organism is converted. Visually, this is reminiscent of melting wax. The time this takes is largely dependent on the level of exposure and size of the organism. Despite this restructuring, at no point do living organisms perish.

Upon completion these organisms (SCP-001-A) take on a gelatinous consistency. Motile organisms will attempt to orient themselves in a fashion reminiscent of their previous form, to varying degrees of success.

Flora typically remain physically inert, yet are still capable of photosynthesis, and still produce oxygen. Organisms capable of flight lose the capability to do so. Fauna remain sentient, and display behavior that parallels their non-anomalous counterparts when not absorbed into a collective instance. Humans retain a modicum of sapience and memory.

Biological anomalies exposed to SCP-001 are affected in the same manner. It seems that exposure nullifies any previously expressed anomalous characteristics.

Due to their composition, instances of SCP-001-A that make contact with one another may combine and blend at the molecular level. This does not seem to cause any pain or distress to the instances, though the resulting bulk can inhibit movement. Since the SCP-001 event, most instances have congregated into such collectives, which seem to possess no maximum volume.

The resulting biomass is amorphous and chaotic. The component organisms will shift between a full-to-semi-liquid state - limbs and bodies will rise periodically from within the mass for a short duration, before deteriorating and being subsumed by another life-form.

Collective instances will locomote by using their appendages in tandem to carry their mass. Larger instances will form a pseudopod from their constituent life-forms, and drag themselves about in a manner similar to amoeba. +Open attached file: Audio Log

...

...

...

Access granted.

A harsh static lashes out of the speakers when you open the file. It disturbs the stillness of the room, catches you off guard and quickens your heart's pace. There's some handling noise as the recorder adjusts their microphone.

A brief moment of silence passes and then:

"Ahem. This is Doctor Logan Igotta, Level, um, Three researcher."

There's a quiver in her voice that betrays her attempts at professionalism. She pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues.

"Due to Site-46's possession of several communicable infohazards - we have, we have been cut off from the rest of the network u-under Blackout Protocol. As such, I'll be updating this as we come a-across new information.

On the bright side, we are actually still receiving transmissions from a few Sites. A good number of personnel have made it, it seems. Some are planning to make a break for 19, some are trying to fight the dash As, some, like us, are simply biding their time. Our Site is sealed for the time being. We're not ready for the journey. At least, not yet."

She sighs.

"We... experienced a containment breach a few days ago. One of the higher-maintenance humanoids broke loose - son of a bitch compromised containment on half a, half a dozen Keters and ran off.

They didn't make it more than five feet from the tunnels before collapsing in a soup. I-I watched it play out on the cams.

It didn't take long for them to get back up."

She stops again, mutters to herself incomprehensibly - before you hear the unmistakable sound of a match-strike.

She exhales audibly.

"Ahh... M-much better. Not exactly a, exactly a designated smoke area; but what the hell, right?"

She clears her throat.

Commander Anand suited up and went to town on them the next day, tried to drive them off. It didn't turn out very well, poor bastard. But we did learn a thing or two, at least."

Pause. Exhale.

"There's only a few of us left here. I'm holed up in one of the offices. Jerry and Director Phillips are somewhere in the barracks. Clyde and a few D's locked themselves in the armory with Ari.

I really should see how she's doing."

She trails off for a moment - before you hear the buzz of radio chatter.

"Hey, hun. How're you holding up down there?"

A voice responds. A man with an exaggerated, mocking tone.

"I'm doing just fine poopsie-kins! I want you to know I wuv you bunches! Heh, heh."

Logan shoots back.

"Who? Wh- knock it off and put her on, dammit. I need to speak with her."

There's a clamor on the other end while the radio changes hands. A soft voice calls out, concerned.

"Babe? What's wrong?"

Logan responds.

"Um - er- nothing, nothing."

Pause. Exhale.

"I just wanted to check in real quick."

Ari pleads.

"I'm fine, babe. Really. I can take care of myself."

A creak - Logan shifts in her seat.

"No, no. I know, I know that. I can't help it, though. I know coming here was never easy for you...."

Pause. Exhale. Logan continues:

"...and with everything going on I—"

Ari interrupts her.

"Hey! You told me you quit smoking."

There's a ruckus as Igotta presumably attempts to snuff her cigarette.

"Oh! Uh…No! No, of course not. I mean, I did! I did stop."

Ari doesn't sound convinced.

"I don't think I'm the one you need to worry about. I'm staying clean. I haven't even thought of touching mnestics in months. Trust me.

Anyways, since you were wondering, I'm fine. The guys are sitting around playing cards, I'm tucked in the corner with my notebook."

You can practically hear Igotta smiling as she jokes.

"Sweetheart! Penning a sonnet about my undying love at a time like this? I'm flattered."

Ari responds with a feigned laugh.

"An elegy, at the moment. I feel like if I don't keep myself busy doing something, I'll go crazy locked down here."

"I know what you mean, hun. I'll let you get back to it.

I love you."

Ari replies.

"Love you too, babe."

A moment of silence. Then, a match-strike followed by an audible exhale.

"And that's all of us. Everyone else was either top-side during the event, or they were killed in the breach. Director's orders are to stay put. Keep an eye on the cams - both in and around the facility. We've got the 001'd skips beating at our front door, and god knows what else locked in here with us.

We still have electricity - we should for quite some time - and the place is stocked with enough supplies to last the site a couple of years. We're going to be fine for now."

Pause. Exhale.

"Everything's going to be fine."

She waits a beat, before ending the transmission.