Contra Johanson was currently sitting in her office, reviewing several capture logs. The walls were plastered in motivational cat posters. Paperweights that were more akin to kaleidoscopes held down stacks of organized papers. In a pile in a basket on the far side of her desk was a knitting set and yarn, it had just been begun not long ago. Every filing cabinet was neat and labeled with a rainbow sticker. Her office was hard on the eyes, but she was perfectly organized, down to the jar holding exactly a half dozen pens to be used at any time. She never turned down anyone who came to speak to her as their supervisor. She never raised her voice, always a kind tone. She always had a positive and optimistic attitude. And most importantly, hidden deep beneath her bubbly appearance was determination, venom, and fire.
She had taken a keen interest in a recent capture. The anomaly was certainly interesting in its own right, as most are. However, something aside from its properties had caught her interest. It was combat adept, but in a non-anomalous manner. Well, as non-anomalous as an SCP object could be. It utilized a blade swiftly and skillfully, was as agile as a dragonfly, and the thing was tough enough to take blows lethal to non-anomalous humans. But as far as the Foundation was aware, it was simply more able than the average human; it lacked any abilities or properties that were anomalous in nature for combat.
Contra had almost discarded the notion that she could use it however, as it seemed too animalistic to actually be wielded. However, the first of the preliminary tests had come in no more than an hour or two ago. Something within it had caught her attention, as well as the attention of the two researchers overseeing at the time. It had written a note, albeit terribly in both the grammatical and handwriting departments. But nevertheless, a note written in response to its actions demonstrates sapience.
Sapience is a very interesting thing. It grants rights to the being in question, but also grants the ability to sign them away. More animalistic anomalies are simply locked in a box, fed on a schedule, and fall by the wayside. But sapient ones? They can grow, adapt, and thrive. It makes them especially tricky to contain because they can adapt and learn for escape. You have to break their will or convince them containment is truly the best for them. It is a fine line to walk; botching it could lead to depression and worse tendencies in subjects. Luckily, if it really is as intelligent as Contra hoped they are, then perhaps she could ply away any thoughts of escape through leniency and programming. And with a combat adept one such as this? It might even see the outside of the facility on occasion, though for her purposes and under her eye. Good carrots to dangle in front of their eyes.
Still, Contra needed to ascertain what she wanted from the anomaly, and what those scientists wanted from it were not necessarily one in the same. She had a great degree of influence over who worked at the Site, but she had not replaced the senior researching faculty in full, yet. She needed to know where it came from, how it arrived, if it wanted to go back, and what motivated it. This information was crucial to manipulating it. The researchers assigned to it would only want to know what it could do so they could more effectively lock it in a box, such shortsightedness. Anomalies are gifts, to be utilized. It being sapient granted her an opportunity.
And thus, a list of questions was drafted. About a dozen or so, supplied in supplement to whatever the scientists came up with. Containment was the priority after all, Contra would grant them that. But they simply lacked vision. By adding a few extra thoughts of her own, she could gather what she needed. Hopefully, she could avoid those with weaker minds stunting her plans for a new taskforce. She had already secured a majority of the components, she just needed to add a single piece.
Stamping the paper with her signature, she sealed the memo and walked out the door, having a staffer deliver the message.
Bateson and Smith were practically in overdrive. They had a set of questions they wanted answered already, just not questions they thought they could ask the anomaly directly. Suddenly, the fact that it was capable of communication, albeit inefficiently, had become known. Evidently, it's abilities to write were comparable to that of a toddler. It didn't even have a subject in the phrase it had written to the hysterical D-Class. However, sapience demands an interview, and judging by the fact that it only lashed out once direct harm had been made, they were confident they could be in the chamber with only two armed guards. For this interview, they procured a whiteboard, a few dry-erase markers, and a small rag. It would facilitate communication and not require them to constantly bring out paper for it, while they made permanent record of anything important.
Aside from the obvious and standardized questions about what it was, who it was, where it was from, and so on, they really wanted to know why it had not spoken before. They assumed it was incapable, but that was strange. It was so quiet that the audio equipment couldn't pick up anything from it until it had torn a hole in its experimenter. They had racked up a list of several dozen questions when a memo landed in their office. It had been sent down with a rainbow signature seal.
"Smith, do you have any clue why the Director insists on using non-standard writing implements? Multi-colored ink is an eye sore."
"Beats me, though I honestly think its pretty neat. I might pick it up myself."
An eye roll from Bateson caused Smith to shoot his hands up defensively. Bateson scoffed before moving to integrate the new questions they had receive. Smith continued, "I wonder why she's taken an interest in this little guy. I mean, we barely know anything about them. What could she already be looking at?"
"I don't know, and honestly I don't care. She's always been a bit eccentric, but so long as she isn't burning away half the continent, does it really matter? We should just do our jobs and entertain her."
Silent agreements were exchanged, and they continued on.
They were finalizing their preparations for the interview and had moved back into the observation chamber. The object was stirring after being violently electrocuted. They were going to question it about the defense mechanism as well. Not only was it dangerous, but it was also new. The anomaly had taken a few lumps during capture, and even been shocked by the net weapon before. However, during capture those appendages had never made an appearance. Mysteries, mysteries.
Smith spoke into a recorder, "For the record, the anomaly has recovered from an unconscious state induced by electric shock at rate nearly twice that of the first encounter. Either it is building a resistance to electrical attacks, or it was more damaged than previously thought during the first encounter. Either way, this would make current containment procedures less effective, and new ones should be devised. This priority will be bumped up."
Clicking off the recorder, Smith turned to his partner and blew a long breath. While capable of being serious and cold, it just wasn't his style. He did his job well, and that's what counts, but it was so uptight at times. "Such stuffy protocol. Are you ready to get the show on the road?"
"Yes, I'm as ready as I'm going to be. Considering anomalous interrogation always reveals more questions than answers at first, I've limited the planning to broad ideas rather than specific questions. That way we can adapt our method to get the information, hopefully regardless of circumstance."
"Makes sense. I've got the question starters though. We need that foundation to jump off of. I'm thinking we try to pry a name out of it, that'd make it easier for it to form an emotional connection to us and hopefully be cooperative. Though, considering it seems almost feral we might not have any luck there. Twenty bucks says so."
"I'm not betting with you."
"Do you disagree?"
"Of course. Every sapient creature has a name, even if it just refers to itself by some descriptor."
"That twenty is mine, disagreeing counts."
"Bite me."
The Vessel was sitting on the bed. It had nothing better to do. Desperation had been lost after they were shocked back into the dark night of unconsciousness. Evidently, the beings keeping watch over them wanted to know more about them. And considering the lengths to which they had gone to keep them in the box, rather than just killing them, they probably were very concerned about continuing to do so. They had decided that they would not reveal their ability to use dream gates under any circumstances. Doing so would only ensure they got locked in a tighter box, and it would become exponentially more difficult to get back to Hallownest.
However, the desperation was not replaced by exasperation or dejected misery. It had been replaced by patient hope. Their captors wanted to know more about them, more than they could get through observation. Thus, they would most certainly be back to prod them more. And so, they waited on the bed.
Luckily for them, they did not have to wait long. They did not realize it, but they had only been unconscious or waiting for only a few hours.
A familiar groaning of metal happened as the enormous metal door twisted itself open again. This time, however, a different pair entered the room. They seemed far more confident than the first set, wearing a clean pair of white robes as opposed to ruffled orange ones. They wondered what happened to the survivor, they hope they were alright. They really didn't mean to hurt the other.
The two beings sat at the table. The Vessel walked up to the table and hopped in the opposing chair. A glance was shared between them before they shorter one began to speak.
Bateson activated a recorder, setting it on the side of the table. His partner would do most of the talking, he only planned to speak when he believed he could twist under deception and try to pry out more information. Smith spoke slowly and clearly, a large degree of restraint bridling his excitement to finally speak with the anomaly, "Hello. I hope you haven't been too uncomfortable during your stay with us so far. Are you able to understand me?"
The anomaly nodded. It truly was sapient. First contact. This was momentous.
Continuing on, Smith explained "It's good to see you can understand us. We are going to use this board right here to allow you to communicate back. You can write words on it with this right here, and then use this to wipe the words off."
As he spoke, he gestured to each of the mentioned objects. While he wanted to be more specific, he didn't want to assume anything of their knowledge, given how little they knew in total about the anomaly to begin with. Luckily, the anomaly got the gist of what he said and picked up the board and marker, inspecting them. It scribbled something on the wrong side, then the correct one. It tried to wipe both, realizing it only came off of the white surface. It then drew an organic shape before wiping it off. It could learn, quickly too. Smith, satisfied with its progress was about to ask the first question before the anomaly slowly wrote an English word. It was curious, too. The researchers were learning so much. After nearly a minute, it had written its sole word, a question, "name?".
Ah. They had yet to introduce themselves. An introduction was good, it would naturally lead to them learning its own name.
"Yes, my name is Doctor Smith. My friend and partner here is Doctor Bateson. We are the ones here at this facility in charge of observing and learning about you. What would you like us to refer to you by?"
The anomaly thought for a moment, before pointing at the white board then back at itself.
"Yes, we would like to know your name."
A moment passed. The anomaly was seemingly in thought, but it was really difficult to tell. Neither man could quite get a bead on its emotions, or if it had any at all. Its face was nearly immobile, one might have thought it was as solid as marble. Eventually, it wiped away the word written and began to scribble out a sentence, "no name never given".
That was weird. A few notes were made. No name implied they either saw themselves as less than a person, or they had never been treated as such. That would mean they likely had never had a familial connection, something the Foundation might be able to exploit. Still, they needed a more complete profile before attempting to have the anomaly bond with them.
"Well, surely there's something you call yourself. We have a numerical designation to refer to you, but I think it would be a lot easier to call you something nicer."
A moment passed. Two moments passed. Several moments passed. The anomaly wasn't responding to the request for a name. They would have to investigate this further, but it wouldn't do to waste time. It seemed almost childlike; if they pushed a subject they were currently unwilling or unable to elaborate on they would never get anything out of it.
"Well, we can move on from that topic. We noticed your body is made up of an interesting material. I was curious if you could tell us a little about it?"
The Vessel was interested. How would they know about the Void? Maybe they didn't and just recognized that the Void was abnormal. They didn't want to share too much about themselves, but they could give a little. Maybe if they cooperated, they would give information back. This dialogue had already gone better than the last three experiences with the soft beings. And so, they wrote. It took them nearly five minutes to get their whole message out. They were getting faster all the time, but it was still an arduous process.
"made of void dark abyss fluid made to be empty"
That response raised an eyebrow from both researchers. They had a name for the material but still knew nothing about it. However, it described either the material or itself as being made. Was it artificial?
"Pardon my misunderstanding, was this void made to be empty, or were you?
Something must have clicked within the anomaly at that remark. It responded rapidly, relatively speaking. It wrote something almost like it was a speech it had heard once.
"self made to contain infection no cost too great no mind to think no will to break no voice to cry suffering"
Well, that was a surprise. Questions beget only more questions, but it confirmed that the anomaly in front of them was an artificial sapient being. Very interesting in its own right. They made a note to ask about the aforementioned Infection in the future. If it was disease bearing, then it would be a threat to other anomalies and staff. Additionally, it seemed as though this was a mantra that whoever had made them subscribed to. Perhaps they could speak at some point, 'no cost too great' was an ideology the Foundation understood very well.
"Noted. Let's move on to a different subject. You were picked up wandering the Everglades, that swampy area. What were you doing there?"
The Vessel memorized the name of the location. The Everglades, it seemed an appropriate name. Still, to answer the question, how could it respond? The Dream Realm wasn't even an inkling in the minds of most, and to say they had been attacked by a malevolent deity? Well, it would certainly come as a shock. They still did not fully understand how they had ended up in this world, why had The Old Light waited so long to strike at them? They had traveled through dream gates numerous times. Still, they had to respond. Cooperation had garnered them more information than sitting in a cell by far. Perhaps they could simplify the terms, make it easier to comprehend.
"was traveling in hallownest attacked by old light sent from home to swamp"
"You were attacked by 'The Old Light'? What is that? What is Hallownest?"
"old god other world"
Well, that was certainly a response. It is difficult to believe that this little guy could survive an attack from a God, resilient as they may be. Additionally, being attacked wouldn't exactly punt someone to a different location. There's also the high claim of being from another world. Still, they could not tell if they were lying or not. Smith figured the best course of action was to play along, see if the anomaly would explain further.
"I see. So, what was this Old Light the God of? What were they like?"
"old light almost died became enraged killed many is old god of dream"
At the mention of Dream, Bateson suddenly had a realization. He made a note and circled it several times in red pen. Smith noticed his attention and kept up the line of questioning. His partner saw something there.
"Ah, that's no good. How exactly did they harm so many? You see, we're concerned that we might have to deal with her too, and we want to know as much as we can."
Many parallels were appearing to the Vessel. Both wanted to stymie the Old Light. Or these beings would if they needed to. They could maybe work together; it might offer a route for the Vessel to leave confinement without the need for a violent escape. They really did not want to hurt these intelligent beings, in a way they reminded them of Quirrel, warrior scholars.
"caused Infection seized minds of bugs killed unkilled"
That was concerning. The Foundation had dealt with both mind controlling deities and those that raised the dead, at least, if they were understanding the statement properly. Both combined would be a serious issue. Luckily, neither Researcher believed the influence of this deity to be present on Earth. If the anomaly wasn't lying, such an effect would be highly noticeable, and the Foundation would be alerted to its presence almost immediately. They would have their work cut out for them, sure, but they would have noticed, and this anomaly was presumably present for at least a month.
"That is most unfortunate. Luckily, I don't believe they are present here. We would have likely noticed their effects if they were. This has been a very productive interview so far, but we are running short on our allotted time. There is one last matter I wish to address. You have been cooperative in this interview, and I am taking a risk here offering this. In exchange for future and further cooperation, you will be granted access to more of the site and be allowed to interact with others. Additionally, should you wish to accept, we could offer classes to improve your writing abilities to facilitate communication. We will still be keeping a close eye on you, but you will be granted significantly more autonomy. What do you think?"
The Vessel was being offering an opportunity. They did not trust these researchers fully, but an opportunity to both improve communication and speak with others would most certainly allow them to better prepare for their departure. Perhaps they could find a way to access the Dream Realm and return to Hallownest. They had not been able to utilize dream gates in this world so far, but perhaps there was a way. They had spent a lot of time as a fighter and adventurer in Hallownest. Now, it might be better to slow down for a least a brief while, not that they had a choice.
The Vessel nodded.
"Good, good. Me and my partner are going to step out for a minute, we will be right back. We can begin the process of integrating you into the community here soon."
With that, the two beings gathered all their belongings from the table and exited the cell. Though they were too professional to show in front of an anomaly, they had several things to discuss, one was excited and the other was anxious.
Stepping into the observation chamber, Smith and Bateson laid out their notes on the table set up for them. The technical officer from before was gathering the audio and visual records. The audio would be needed for the updated SCP File, though the video would likely be discarded. Reviewing their notes, they finally became more casual and let loose some of the tension they had with them. They had to keep up a tight face around new anomalies, professionalism is key.
Smith snickered, "So I guess you owe me $20."
Bateson scoffed, "Like I said, bite me."
"I suppose for the time being we just refer to it by numerical designation, for lack of an alternative. Man, that slow handwriting is really annoying. I get that it's difficult for it, but like, we had a three hour time block and we barely got anything done."
"We'll definitely need to conduct more interviews. At least we managed to dispel our misconception regarding its hostility. But are you certain we can integrate it into the anomalous community onsite so soon?"
"I think so. It was readily willing to cooperate with us, likely due to stunted emotional capacity. Between it claiming to be made and lacking a name, I think its fair to say the poor thing never had a close relationship with anyone before. By having it form relationships with others here, we can use it as leverage and threaten to isolate it as punishment for failure to work with us. Additionally, though we still have to ask about it in the future, it thus far has only seemed to attack once provoked, an unlikely occurrence in the common areas."
"Yes, I concur."
Smith thought to himself for a minute, "Do you think it was telling the truth? Some of the aspects of its story were rather out there."
Bateson twisted his mouth. He had a really hard time getting a grip on the mind of the anomaly. Typically, he could read emotions well but that stone-like face was impermeable. He huffed, "I had one hell of a time trying to catch ticks to see if it was lying, or even establish a baseline. I can't say with confidence, but I do believe it to have been telling the truth."
He tapped a circled spot on his notes, the "Old Light" previously referred to was described as being an "Old God of Dream". He then drew out the reports from when the anomaly presumably appeared in the Everglades.
Bateson explained, "When the anomaly first turned up, there was a significant X-Reading, some unidentified form of radiation. Oddly enough, the areas in which this was most prominent had a large uptick in dream related phenomenon, which trickled off. It had remained elevated since, but nothing that would be considered a major issue. I believe when this anomaly was attacked by "The Old Light", they were punched through a dimension or something, and the debris from said damage to reality manifested in this radiation. At least, that's the theory I'm turning around in my head at the moment. Decent evidence given it linked this radiation to the thing that caused it to turn up, unprompted."
Smith took it in, it was a lot. The technical officer left, having done her duty. It was just the two researchers. As they reviewed what questions they had answered, they realized they had forgotten to answer the grafted-on ones from the Site Director.
He cursed under his breath, "Ah shit. Johanson is going to kill us. We ran out of time and didn't get her priority questions."
"Don't worry about it. We can get it in the next interview. Either way, considering its non-hostile, she should be happy. That's what I assume she was looking for with those questions."
"Fair enough. We should let her know later."
"Yes, we should. Either way, do you want to begin the process of integrating the anomaly into the community at the site here?
"It's rude to keep company waiting, especially since we said we'd be right back."
With that, the two researchers headed back into the containment chamber. The Vessel was soon to meet many new faces.
On a computer monitor, two UFC fighters were duking it out. It was a close match and highly anticipated. One swiped right, the other hooked left. It was a dangerous dance, but it was the heavyweight championship. Both men had been at it for a while, teetering towards the edge of exhaustion.
Suddenly, an opening appears, and one of the Fighters ducks a punch, prepares an uppercut to end the match and-!
A blinking light appears on the other tab on screen, drawing away J. Jackson's attention. Something occurred in the atmosphere over South Florida, centered on a small village north of the Everglades. Under the X-Reading section, a large amount of radiation entered the atmosphere around noon. This specific energy had been elevated for over a month, but suddenly it increased exponentially and peaked for half an hour. Then, it dropped down to a slightly higher level than when it first began. It was familiar radiation, one that resonated along mental and psionic channels.
"Well, shoot."