Four Sides of the Same Imaginary Coin

Link to article: Four Sides of the Same Imaginary Coin.

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+ **I**
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> 12-04-1982
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> ++ ##000000|//Dr. Choi,//##
> ##000000|//Took me awhile, but I've managed to get you those tapes you were looking for. Burnt through my last bit of goodwill at the CIA but hey, you//## ##purple|//Arcadian//## ##000000|//guys know all about that anyway.//##
> 
> ##000000|//I know it's not my place, but what do you want this for, anyway? You can't get her back, we both know that. Even if you could, it's not exactly something//## ##purple|//Arcadia//## ##000000|//could replicate anymore. Shouldn't have to remind you that you're not on the Feds' dime, plus most of Dabney's equipment got confiscated after [[[SCP-2600|STELLA]]] went belly-up. Turrell V. Wylie's// still //on "indefinite lockdown" after Young's little experiment. If you ask me, you're better off leaving this behind.//##
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> ##000000|//Cordially,//##
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> ##000000|//A Friend of a Friend//##
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++ ##fcfaa4|**[Video Log/068-1980]**##


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**Foreword:** Test was undertaken as a component of CIA Collaborative Project "JALÜ", designed to serve as a power conduit by feeding off the brainwaves of higher-dimensional entities. 

Following the loss of Project Lead Gemma Young, the project was scrapped; several assets of the project were later involved in the development of //Fishing Derby// by ##purple|Arcadia##'s Coin-Op Division.

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[BEGIN LOG]
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Camera activates, showing a dark room, with a large chair in the centre of the frame. **Gemma Young** can be seen in the background, speaking to **Doctor Nelson Choi** behind the camera. After several seconds of idle chatter, **Young** states the test designation and date before motioning to **Test Subject-002** off-screen. An unknown entity can be seen moving around in the background of the frame before vanishing.

**Dr. Choi** guides **Test Subject-002** up to the chair, securing him in place with several straps over the subject's arms, legs and torso. **Choi** leaves the frame for a minute before returning with a small catheter connected to an IV injection. He directs the subject to hold the catheter while he administers an anesthetic into the subject's arm via cannula. The subject vocalizes pain and begins writhing before being calmed.

**Young** applies several strokes of blood to **Test Subject-002's** skin, forming several occultist symbols on the subject's face, neck and arms. **Test Subject-002** reacts with extreme apprehension and attempts to shy away from **Young's** hand. **Young** begins to chant. For several frames, a child's face can be observed looking in through a window in the door. Despite this being directly facing **Dr. Choi**, he does not appear to acknowledge the entity.

At this point during the experiment, listeners of the tape report being able to smell smoke. This smell reportedly becomes stronger as the experiment progresses, although all refuse to elaborate further beyond this point.

After several minutes of chanting, the symbols painted onto **Test Subject-002** begin to faintly glow. A bright, white light begins to emanate from the eye cavities of both **Young** and **Test Subject-002**, consistently increasing in brightness. This light appears to be unnoticed by **Young** and she continues chanting. **Test Subject-002** becomes agitated and begins attempting to slip out of the straps confining him to the chair. 

The light emitted by the subjects' eyes becomes too bright to continue visual recording. Camera feed cuts out for approximately thirty seconds, although audio continues recording. 

During this time,**Test Subject-002's** begins to scream. **Dr. Choi** can be heard attempting to leave the room behind the camera, although the door appears to have been locked from the outside.

Visual feed resumes. At this stage, **Test Subject-002** is observed hovering above the chair, unable to move. **Young's** voice can be heard whispering from the left, although **Young** herself cannot be seen. **Test Subject-002** begins to scream louder,  his voice speaking in unison with **Young's**.

Visual feed cuts out for the final time. Both **Test Subject-002** and **Young** can no longer be heard. A quiet weeping can be heard from **Dr. Choi** before auditory recording ceases.

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[END LOG]
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A long time ago, I forgot who I was. 

I'm not sure if I can't move or if I've simply forgotten how. Witnessing the infinite misfiring of my synapses, over and over again until I don't know what's real anymore. Some half-dead thing at the end of a tether floating here at the end of two worlds.

It's a sea full of writhing schools of silver trout who play in the vast depths above me. I can't see the surface anymore, just the constant blinking stars behind my mind's eye. Nothing here but stars and trout drifting through the celestial currents all around me.

Who am I? I'm a grain of sand adrift in a void time will never know. I cannot be nothing; I am less than that.

I'm a fisherman cast out onto an empty sea to catch the stars.
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[[collapsible show="an epilogue for Jason Reddeck" hide="ʞɔǝppǝR uosɐſ ɹoɟ ǝnƃolᴉdǝ uɐ"]]
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Do you remember why you decided to be a writer? 

You had always been a creative kid and you wanted to share your art with the internet. You didn't need to make money off of it, although part of you always craved fame and the attention that came with it. You were a kid, this was //fun// for you.

And when they said you had to stay inside, you didn't mind. You were a writer, someone who could make words at the tap of a keyboard. Or you were trying to be at least. It didn't matter either way, even if you were lonely, you could make your own fun.

You'd been writing online for months now, posting what you could onto cheap horror sites. It wasn't always that great, only a few of your stories still were visible for Joe Public to see. Tales where thinly-veiled versions of yourself were lauded as heroes for fighting the monsters that lurked behind every corner.

You're writing out one of those tales now, the exact details lost into a hazy memory. You get up to leave, to stretch. Nature calls, anyway. Once you come back, you notice someone else has been at work upon your draft. Wait? Someone else?

Your mind tinged with confusion, you type out a few words warily into the chat, an inquiry into an impossibility. Somewhere, a rusty old fishhook lodges its way into your cheek. But you don't notice. You never do.

> ##red|**rowjimmyrow**## 03/18/2007(Sunday) 19:41:28 #10229387
> ------
> How are you editing this? I didn't think you could do that.

They reply almost instantaneously. You turn your head, embedding the jagged tips of the fishhook farther into your mouth. If you really think about it, you can taste the metallic tang on the tip of your tongue.

> ##purple|**deepskydiver**## 03/18/2007(Sunday) 19:41:52 #99435900
> ------
> Hello. You can hear me, right?

Well, that doesn't answer your question at all. You type out a response, your fingers dancing across the keyboard. The fishhook is stuck deep inside now. No use trying to get it out.

> ##red|**rowjimmyrow**## 03/18/2007(Sunday) 19:42:16 #31891505
> ------
> Yes? Is everything okay?

You press send and your mind collapses in on itself. 

You don't let go of the mouse, can't fall off of your comfy gaming chair. You don't move but you can feel yourself falling further down, slipping between atoms through a dark and stormy sea. As you slip beneath the waves, you can feel you body move from violent thrashing to a gentle rhythm of half-hearted struggling, then finally nothing at all. 

A creeping nothingness pulls at the edges of your vision as you sink further and further into the endless abyss between molecules. It drifts inward like mists on the breeze as your mind is compressed into something infinitely smaller from far beneath your feet. It’s quicker than you would have liked, the finality of it all. It's over before you can even realize it, before what could be described as your body hits the cold linoleum floor of your imagination made real.

Somewhere, a fisherman left adrift on a cold and empty ocean smiles. A grain of sand caught a star in his net.
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[[collapsible show="the whispers on the wind from castles on high" hide="ɥƃᴉɥ uo sǝlʇsɐɔ ɯoɹɟ puᴉʍ ǝɥʇ uo sɹǝdsᴉɥʍ ǝɥʇ"]]
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+ **IV**
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++ ##fffeab|**INCIDENT SUMMARY/███-A**##


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On 11-19-1995, a deceased instance of SCP-███ spontaneously manifested at the former Turrell V. Wylie military base[[footnote]]Consult documentation for [[[SCP-2600]]] and [[[Arcadia Hub|GoI-078]]] for more information.[[/footnote]]. Due to the cadaver's pre-existing properties, a localized ZK-Class ("Reality Failure") Scenario occurred onsite.

[FURTHER INFORMATION RESTRICTED TO PERSONNEL WITH DOCUMENT CLEARANCE 5/███]

The aftermath of this incident has been provisionally designated as URA-041 until a full classification can be established. No personnel are permitted entry beyond the armed perimeter surrounding the former Turrell V. Wylie military base due to remaining reality distortion.

Proper alterations were made to [[[http://www.scp-wiki.net/sandrewswann-s-proposal|Procedure ZK-███/ALPHA]]].

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Four Sides of the Same Imaginary Coin

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