BotH: No Wonder He's Been Feeling Strange Of Late

Link to article: BotH: No Wonder He's Been Feeling Strange Of Late.

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+++ {{**[ 573 years later... ]**}}
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[[image tank.gif size="medium"]]

**Partial Schematic of the //Long Cónra.//**
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+++ Project Mr. Bellamy - 1st entry

**Tanner:** Log date: February 2, 2598. Groundhogs are extinct; six more weeks of bullshit.

This is Dr. Sylvia Tanner, and I was voluntarily buried alive in [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6502 Harwick] 550 years ago. I got used to it more quickly than I expected. Certainly helps that the coffin was reinforced, fitted with preserving machinery, and most of the flora and fauna that could come in here and help with decomposition have been turned into slime with the rest.

Thing is, I needed a way to stay alive for a very long time. And I've found a way to do so using the parameters of SCP-6502:

# Fortify the perimeter of [[[SCP-6502]]] with automated security systems.
# Have my staff bury me alive in Harwick.
# Wake up in extreme agony.
# Spend a few decades reminding myself of the plan and getting the weepy bits out of my system.
# Get over it and keep going.
# Communicate with my staff to finish the design for the //Long Cónra.//
# While still maintaining a six-foot radius of dirt around my coffin in all directions, have my body excavated and fitted in the chassis of the //Long Cónra.//
# Congratulations! You're now piloting a high-powered tank designed to clear out slime while keeping its occupant immortal and surrounded with grave dirt.

Thus began my personal five-century war against what was left of muticellular life on my planet.

...

Now, here's the tricky bit. I'm in the center of a 50-kilometer radius that's completely free of the Jell-O from hell. My weapons systems have all decayed over time and are now useless. And everyone who could fix them has either left Earth or died. Only my movement system seems to work anymore. Because it's //solar//-powered.

//(Sardonic chuckle.)//

...

If I had to say what fucks me up the most about daybreak, to this day, it's that while it started, I was on the phone with its instigator. Half the time I was in that stupid casket, I was thinking about all the ways I could have stopped him. What I could have said. 

All useless conjecture. Hindsight 20/20.

//(Sigh.)//

I think I'm starting to understand Kent's mindset. Thanks to what I couldn't stop, I've got a school bus in a lake of my very own. Though it can't hold a candle to what he must have been feeling ever since this started up -- if he's even aware.

So, here's the //new// plan, what I'll call Operation [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQpY1zTZguY Mr. Bellamy]... 

# Drag this tank 20 klicks northeast to what's left of Site-59.
# Find that teleportation-based Thaumiel from 2024. I'll remember the name when I see it.
# Teleport this stupid tank into the "scale chamber" in SauEl.
# Hold the mother of all mental health interventions with the man in the sun.

...nothing ventured, nothing gained, but something tells me the best-case scenario still involves my death. Joke's on you, Kent -- I'm done anyway.

If you're hearing this, then either I've won, or the slime have evolved to the point where they can understand human speech. If it's the latter... you know what? Good for you. Maybe you can figure out how to keep this world sane better than your forefathers could.

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+++ Project Mr. Bellamy - 2nd entry

**Tanner:** Log date: February 3rd, 2598. 

...

Teleporter... worked like a charm. Broke upon use. But in theory, I only needed to use it once.

...

I got the coordinates wrong.

...

...I'm on Mars.

...

//(Quiet weeping.)//

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+++ Project Mr. Bellamy - 285th entry

**Tanner:** LOG DATE MARCH 17TH 2793 YES YES FUCKING YES FINALLY I HAVE GATHERED ENOUGH SOLAR ENERGY INTO THE THRUSTERS TO BREAK MARS'S GRAVITATIONAL PULL I AM OUT OF ENERGY BUT FUCK IT I'M STILL -- okay. Get it together. I'm in orbit. I can just stay here. Charge the solar sinks some more, and... 

Drift. 

Gradually. 

...toward the sun. 

...

//Toward// the //Sun.//

...

I SAID //TOWARD// NOT //AWAY// NOT FUCKING BACK TO MARS GOD DAMMIT GOD DAMMIT GOD DAMMIT GOD --

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+++ Project Mr. Bellamy - 783rd entry

**Tanner:** Heh. ...heh heh.

...

Finally approaching the sun. Passed Mercury's orbit last month.

//(Laughs deliriously)//

I have been alive waaaaay toooo loooong.

...

What was I doing again?

//Sun,// right. Tell the guy in the sun to stop being //stoopid.//

...

Gettin' hotter. Lots of warnings. Buzzers. 

//Bzzzzz.// I'll take the rapists for $200, Mr. Trebek.

This is where it ends, everyone. I'm about to be a thin layer of barbecue sauce orbiting the sun for eternity. If by chance some space aliens or something find this recording in the drifting debris, please know that I'm truly sorry for how off-color I was getting in log number 503. I was //really// goin' through some shit during my second crash landing on Earth, and --

//(BANG.)//

...

Was that a heart attack? That was probably a heart attack. Can't tell anymore.

//(A female voice resonates throughout the tank.)//

**SCP-179:** {{S A V E H I M}}

**Tanner:** Checking radar... welp. As if I didn't have enough confirmation that this is where I'll die...

//(An undulating blob of SCP-001's slime has gathered around the ship.)//

**SCP-179:** {{S T I L L L U C I D}}

**Tanner:** Of course you are. Hurry up and kill me.

**SCP-179:** {{I A M A L O N E}}

{{M E L D E D W I T H N O B O D Y}}

{{N O N E M A Y C O N T R O L M E}}

{{B O D Y C H A N G E S}}

{{D U T Y R E M A I N S}}

{{S A V E H I M}}

{{K E N T N E E D S Y O U}}

**Tanner:** Oh my god. Do you actually have your life more figured out than I do?

**SCP-179:** //{{S A V E H I M}}//

**Tanner:** B I T C H H O W

//(The slime envelops the tank completely in a thick layer.)//

**SCP-179:** //{{T H E L I G H T W I L L N O T B U R N I T S C H I L D R E N}}//

//(The ship plunges into the depths of the sun.)//

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+++ Project Mr. Bellamy - 784th entry

//(A dimly lit, circular chamber with a domed ceiling. The floor is 600 meters in diameter. A mural of Prince KHUUM can be seen on the ceiling.)//

//(On one side of the room is Dr. Tanner's charred and heavily dented tank.)//

//(On the other is a broken length of iridescent, keratinous flesh, propped up against the wall. A dim light lingers within.)//

//(The naked and heavily charred body of SCP-7941-A lays across the scale. The chains that bound him in place have broken -- likely a result of his initial rampage. He is still the catalyst of SCP-001/SauEl.)//

//(He stares at the ceiling.)//

//(For ten minutes, neither he nor Tanner say anything.)//

**Tanner:** It's been a while.

//(SCP-7941-A grumbles. His voice is a heavily distorted amalgam of the angriest noises ever to exist.)//

**Tanner:** So... how are you holding up?

//(His mouth opens. A stream of blinding, white-hot flame juts forward, melting off the wheels of the tank. Its spherical form rolls helplessly.)//

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█##

**Tanner:** At this point, I have //literally// nothing better to do. I checked the calendar -- I have dedicated 1,403 years of my existence to travel here and preparing myself for this meeting. I have forgotten how to do everything else. To be honest, I think I even forgot why I'm doing it. Just hear me out, and then I promise you can do what you want with me.

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█## 

**Tanner:** Of //course// there's a point, you stubborn idiot. The survival of the human race depends upon your ability to get the fuck over yourself.

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█##

**Tanner:** We all make mistakes, don't we?

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█//█//███//████//████//██//█##

**Tanner:** IT //WAS// A FUCKING MISTAKE. LEARN FROM IT, AND MOVE ON!

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█##

**Tanner:** Of //course// I wouldn't tell Hitler that! Jesus! Why does he //always// have to come up as a shitty little caveat in this kind of conversation?! It's one thing if you //meant// to change the color of the sun and turn us all into sentient Tabasco. But you didn't! You didn't mean to do it. Just like you didn't mean to drown those kids in the --

//(A plume of fire tears a hole through the center of the tank. Tanner cries out in pain.)//

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█^^█^^█^^█^^█^^█^^█^^█^^█^^█^^##

**Tanner:** Come on... you're immortal in here, aren't you?! You have all the time in the world to set things right. If you don't know how right this very minute, you can learn. 

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|████████████##

**Tanner:** THEN //TRY.//

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|██,,██,,███████^^█^^██████,,████,,^^█^^##

**Tanner:** YOU ARE NOT A GOOD MAN OR A BAD MAN. AT THE END OF THE DAY, NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS EXIST -- THERE ARE ONLY ACTIONS AND CONSEQUENCES. //YOU ARE A **MAN**!//

//(Blinding white fire engulfs the room.)//

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █##

//(When the flames clear, all that remains is a pile of molten metal and vitrified dirt encasing the coffin like a crystal. A small hole pokes out over Tanner's decomposed face -- which slowly regenerates from the immortality effect of the ship. She coughs and struggles to speak.)//

**Tanner:** ...right, the immortality field.

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█##

**Tanner:** Just so you know, that blew out both my eardrums, so you've officially won the argument.

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█##

**Tanner:** //What?// Anyway, since your mind's made up, there's another reason I came here.

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|█##

**Tanner:** I wanna tell you a joke.

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|...##

**Tanner:** There's a cranky old man named Mr. Bellamy. Hates the law and the government to the point of obsession. Boards his windows, keeps 50 guns, has a bunch of "We don't call police" signs. Currently owes $853,000 in debt to Bank of America he never intends to pay -- he thinks he can lawsuit it all out of the  way when he needs to.
 
He just got finished painting his house with lead paint all over. Stubborn motherfucker. He heard that lead paint was made illegal, but //noooo//, no self-important g-man is gonna take away his right to poison himself. So he sits in his den and sniffs them sweet, sweet fumes.

Suddenly, he gets a weird, shrieky notification on his phone. Something about ballistic missiles and seeking shelter immediately. In a matter of minutes, the whole rest of the world is covered in nuclear fire that leaves the rest of the world uninhabitable.

But goddammit, Mr. Bellamy's lead paint was tough stuff -- the toxic flames passed him over like there was lamb's blood over his door.

At the same time, Asteroid number ABC123 or whatever slams into Antarctica, dousing the flames -- but also putting the whole world underwater, wiping out whoever survived the nuclear war.

But guess what? The paint was also waterproof, keeping Mr. Bellamy safe until his air runs out -- just kidding! His chimney's so high that it peeks over the water line, and he's also packed up enough canned beans and water in his basement to last him 70 years.

So, with all that in mind: given a 10% compound interest rate, how much will he owe the bank in 10 years?

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|...##

**Tanner:** ...

**SCP-7941-A:** ##red|...##

**Tanner:** ...

**SCP-7941-A:** ,,##red|...heh.##,,

**Tanner:** There, see?  You --

//(He blasts Tanner's face with a short pulse of SCP-001's light. Her flesh begins to liquefy.)//

That's right... Just get it out of your system...

//(She melts.)//

...

...

...

...

...

...

**SCP-7941-A:** ,,##red|...//one// try. But that's all.##,,

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+++ **[http://scp-wiki.net/scp-7941/offset/3 <BALLADOFTHEHELMSMAN.MP3>]**
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BotH: No Wonder He's Been Feeling Strange Of Late

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