SCP Researcher/Analyst 8472's log-Supplemental:

November 29, 2015, 1:45 AM

I miss my childhood. Undoubtedly, before I got dragged into this mess, I would've shot myself for admitting that I was just a kid, but it's true that you never know what you have until it's gone. I'm almost eighteen and I never got to finish high school. I never got my own car and I definitely never went on a date.

And it was all because of that stupid research I sent to AICR, hoping to assist with the cure for cancer and catch the eye of the Scientific Research Bureau. Well, I definitely got some attention, but from the wrong people.

Waking up in some ultra top-secret underground facility—or at least, I assumed it was underground for its lack of windows—I found myself alone, under guard, and under intense scrutiny. Once I was approved through multiple medical tests, vaccinations, biological samples, and psychological evaluations, the white-coated officials there gave me a designation, a briefing of my duties, and slapped a Level 1 clearance on me, whatever good that did.

I was told that I was in a facility, or laboratory designated SCP (Secure. Contain. Protect.), which was designed and equipped to deal with all the unexplained and potentially dangerous anomalies found throughout the world. And that I had just been put in a fairly high-ranking position for a new "recruit": B-class CHP (Civilian of High Potential).

Apparently, the research I had sent to the American Institute of Cancer Research had caught the SCP Foundation's attention because of its brilliance. In all modesty, I had known that my research was outstandingly remarkable for my age and school level when I had sent it in. That was, in fact, the very reason I sent it. I had been executing rigorous experiments on the cancerous cell and had made what I believed to be progress in a new direction. But this work of mine coupled with my high IQ levels had apparently gained me some unwanted attention.

As a result, I was taken away from everything I knew and placed in a high-risk containment and research facility where my childhood was to be inevitably stripped from me. Once I came to terms with my situation and assumed my role, however, I climbed ranks quickly. Though my young age and limited experience often inspired malcontent among my older, lesser co-workers, I eventually reached a high rank which surpassed many in my facility. Hooray me.

My progress was exciting and entertaining to a certain extent, until I began to be lodged deeper in the system. The higher my clearance got, the more baffling and terrifying the objects of my studies became. No longer were they about mysterious sightings, inexplicable scientific phenomena, or supernatural inanimate objects. Now I was forced to study and deal with living entities, at times horrible and strange. My fear of the looming and ever-encroaching unknown soon vanished, however, and my work became less menacing.

Due to my "success" in this new world of secrets and locked cells, I eventually began to forget my old life. The memory of watermelon summers and sugar-cookie Christmases never disappeared, but their persistence did eventually lessen. Soon, I was completely caught up in my research and immersed myself in doing what I was told—an occupation I had previously never been interested in as a teenager.

Now, as I sit in my quarters in the dark, my head still boggled with thoughts of genetic compounds, behavioral patterns, and testing stimuli, I am weary but resigned. All my things are packed and I leave in just a few hours for the new position my recently promoted clearance has earned me.

Class- C Assistant researcher and analyst: Level 3 Clearance.

You don't "graduate" here, by the way. There is no "ceremony" or celebration-worthy decision that's made when you are promoted. You are informed of your new position out of necessity, once it becomes impractical to leave you in your current rank because of what is required of you. In other words, one is promoted according to usefulness.

I am useful. I make a point to be. It's better to get forcefully promoted than to be demoted to a class D, then silently scratched off the list. There's no leaving this place anyway. Retirement or resignation is out of the question, there are far too many secrets here, and escape is impossible for most of the SCP subjects held here, who often possess abilities surpassing that of humans.

Once you're processed into the system, there's no getting out.

I might as well settle in comfortably to my new position.

-Assistant Researcher Selia Best