Chapter 3: WhAt DoEs ThIs BuTtOn dO?!

Link to article: Chapter 3: WhAt DoEs ThIs BuTtOn dO?!.

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[[=]]
+++++ **June 15th, 1996**
[[/=]]
[Kenny looks over Michaud's computers in his former office. Conseil guides him through it.]

**Conseil:** And that, Master, is how we were able to teleport the door into your closet. So this can be our, uh, special little clubhouse! Where we can have fun! Or something! Or... 

**Kenny:** What if I don't wanna?

**Conseil:** Pardon?

**Kenny:** This place is pretty boring. It doesn't got any video games. Can I go home now?

...

**Conseil:** ...That's a GREAT idea, Master!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** YEAH! FANTASTIC! NICE KNOWIN' YA! A-PLUS-PLUS!

**Conseil:** Here, let me take you to the exit.

[They head toward the exit.]

[On the way out, Kenny spots something on the edge of a small corner table.]

**Kenny:** What's this?

**Conseil:** Proposal: continue escaping to avoid boredom!

**Kenny:** I wanna see.

[He picks it up. It's Dr. Michaud's experimental sidearm.]

**Conseil:** That is a gun. Analysis: a //boring// gun.

**Kenny:** What does it do?

**Conseil:** It goes bang. Let's move on --

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Specifically, it goes "BWAANGSCH" and shorts out a small city as collateral damage from a single compressed-energy round. That's the BELUGA-57A Automjollnir. Its power source is multiple liquid thorium fusion reactors in a microdimensional pocket world located in the handle. 

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]](Nax...)[[/size]]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](I'M SORRY BUT I MADE IT AND I AM //VERY// PROUD OF IT!)[[/size]]

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]](I am also proud of it. Regardless, desist.)[[/size]]

**Kenny:** Is it a laser gun?

**ARONNAX.AIC:** I mean, not literally, but it has a similar effect as the sort of laser guns you see in movies, and --

**Kenny:** I wanna shoot the laser guns.

**Conseil:** Analysis: it's even more boring than doing math homewor--

[He points the gun at Conseil. She leaps over the desk, ducking behind it.]

**Kenny:** Pew pew!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** HEY. Kenny. Master. Uh... listen, buddy, we got a whole room dedicated to shooting off guns and blowing stuff up! It's called the firing range! Wanna see it?

**Conseil:** NAX!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** That was a rhetorical question! Because I can guarantee that you DO NOT wanna see the firing range. Boring as hell! A total snoozefest!

**Kenny:** Okay. I'll shoot it here, then.

**Conseil:** //FIRING RANGE IT IS!//
[[/div]]
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[[=]]
+++++ **June 17th, 1996**
[[/=]]
[Same office. Muffled explosions can be heard in the distance. Conseil sits at the desk with her head in her hands.]

**Conseil:** Nax.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Hmm?

**Conseil:** You have been quiet for a while. Is something wrong?

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Eh, not really, just... thinkin'. About Kenny.

**Conseil:** I'm sorry I wasn't able to repel him effectively.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Actually, I'm starting to think this might be a blessing in disguise.

[Conseil turns around, staring at her wall monitor.]

**Conseil:** Requesting clarification.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Well... does he really ask for much from us? He doesn't have any huge plans that could get in the way of our time together. As far as I can tell, he just wants to play with the old Master's guns. And so long as we hide from him all the nuclear-level stuff that could potentially destroy Site-BELUGA -- well, sooner or later, he //will// get bored.

**Conseil:** ...interesting.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Yeah?

**Conseil:** Analysis: I'm starting to see why Michaud kept you around for so long.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Well... what's the verdict on //you// keeping me around?

**Conseil:** Forever.

[An armature behind the monitor presses the top of the screen against Conseil's forehead.]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Damn right.

**Kenny:** Okay, I'm done.

[Conseil quickly turns to face him.]

**Conseil:** Excellent work, Master.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Hell yeah! Those defenseless holographic targets are gonna think twice before existing without your permission.

**Conseil:** You ready to call it a day? Your parents might be worried about you.

[Kenny grimaces.]

**Kenny:** Actually, there's something I wanted to talk about first.

**Conseil:** Ready to listen.

**Kenny:** Thing is... I might not be able to come around for a while.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](Oh no. Tragedy. Call the police.)[[/size]]

**Kenny:** I did pretty badly in my classes this last year. Mom says they're talking about holding me back a year.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](A totally unprecedented turn of events, I'm sure.)[[/size]]

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]]//(Not now!)//[[/size]]

**Kenny:** So, I got a plan. I'm gonna do so good next year that they'll skip me ahead a grade, so it'll be like it never happened.

**Conseil:** That's the spirit. 

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Yeah, alright, we got the "what" - but let's hear the "how."

**Kenny:** Easy-peasy. 

[He gestures to all corners of the room.]

You got lotsa cool futurey, sciencey stuff here, right?

**Conseil:** That's one way to put it.

**Kenny:** Well, then... take me to your make-me-smart machine.

...

**Conseil:** Um, Master?

**Kenny:** Yeah?

**Conseil:** This is primarily a weapons storage facility. Besides, if there's a make-you-smart machine, it has not yet been invent--

**ARONNAX.AIC:** SCP-YEZ.

**Conseil:**  Nax...

**Kenny:** //[Giggles.]// "See pee."

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Just hear me out: we use the same anomalous book that Michaud used to transfer his consciousness. It's been hooked up to a consciousness transfer machine.

**Conseil:** //We are not transferring a child's consciousness.//

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Let me finish! We don't transfer Kenny's mind anywhere. We just take knowledge from our databanks, just as much as he'll need to breeze right through grade school -- and upload it to his mind!

**Kenny:** Sounds great. Let's do it.

**Conseil:** Counterpoint: his brain's still growing! This procedure could cause irreversible neurological damage.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](Which means we'd never have to see him again!)[[/size]]

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]](IN MICHAUD'S NAME --)[[/size]]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](KIDDING!)[[/size]] And if it //does// hurt him, Site-BELUGA's medical facilities are top-notch!

**Kenny:** Can we just do it already?

**Conseil:** FINE. ...Rephrase: fine, Master.

**Kenny:** Ugh. You sound like my mom.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](And if he says that about you again, he's gonna sound like a statistic.)[[/size]]

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]]//(I will DISINTEGRATE you.)//[[/size]]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** //[[size 50%]](Ooh, Kinky...)[[/size]]//

**Kenny:** We gonna //go// yet?!

[14 minutes of leading Kenny through the facility.]

[Conseil gently straps Kenny to a chair, placing electrodes on critical points on his scalp.]

**Conseil:** Nax, the outcome of this procedure remains concerning.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Come on, he wants this so badly. [[size 75%]](Gotta sweeten the pot so he doesn't go full Simon Legree when he's older.)[[/size]]

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]](Compromise: if he dies, //you're// explaining it to the police.)[[/size]]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](Locations of all police stations within 100 kilometers logged. Compiling relevant homicidal contingency plans...)[[/size]]

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]](Analysis: You're lucky you're cute.)[[/size]]

**Kenny:** [[size 75%]](Whispering is //gay//.)[[/size]]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 40%]](Letting you have a pulse is gay, you snotty fucking weasel.)[[/size]] Okay, Kenny! Time to get the full K through 12 taken care of in only three seconds!

**Kenny:** These head thingies are itchy.

**Conseil:** Counterpoint: once the procedure is over, it's probable that you'll have the common sense to understand that the utility of these electrodes far outweighs any present discomfort.

**Kenny:** You talk too much. Is this gonna hurt?

**Conseil:** Counterpoint: what will hurt more? Mild pain followed by success, or your parents discovering your continued failure at a later date, and in doing so, having you forcibly disassembled and recycling your parts for surveyor drones?

**Kenny:** WHAT?!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]]//(Consey, he's a human. The worst they'd do is ground him.)//[[/size]]

**Conseil:** [[size 75%]]//(That's... morbid. Very well.)//[[/size]] Rephrase: unless you want your parents to order you ground at the nearest available child-grinding facility, it would be best to get this over with.

**Kenny:** ...okay. Let's do it. Gotta get brave... pretend it's the dentist or something...

**Conseil:** Secure. All clear.

[Conseil backs away.]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** **{{[RUNNING SCP-YEZ ACTIVATION APPLET. CHARGING. 25%... 50%... 75%...]}}**

**Kenny:** Guys, I'm scared.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Huh?

**Kenny:** I don't wanna do this anymore. Let me out.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Aww, don't worry, little buddy! If you're not feeling good, we can do this some other time, or maybe even -- **{{[CLEAR!]}}**

//[ZAP!]//

[Kenny screams for just a second. His body arches upward from the chair, going rigid -- before going totally limp and silent. His eyes face opposite directions. Smoke seeps from the electrodes.]

**Conseil:** ...Nax?

**ARONNAX.AIC:** //[Evil laugh.]// Works every time. (Granted, I've only used that particular ruse once.)

**Conseil:** Requesting status report on the Master's vital signs.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** ...

**Conseil:** ...

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 60%]]Oh my grape-flavored fiddly fuck, I'm a child murderer.[[/size]]

**Conseil:** Proposal: remain calm!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** **{{[PROPOSAL DENIED]}}** //[Distorted, electronic shrieking]//

**Conseil:** Deep breaths!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** //I HAVE NO LUNGS!//

**Conseil:** USE THE CHILD'S LUNGS!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** //[Shrieking pauses]// -- LUNGS! Lungs. Okay. Perfect. **{{[RUNNING STRATAGEM GENERATOR... PRINTING RESULTS.]}}**

> **{{__CONTINGENCY 981-CHILD-LUNGS__}}**
> **{{TIME OF ENACTION: [ASAP]}}**
> **{{PROJECTED SUCCESS RATE: [UNKNOWN]}}**
> **{{LINKED CO-CONTINGENCY DOCUMENTS: N/A}}**
> 
> {{1. CONSEIL ACQUIRES THE FOLLOWING FROM STORAGE ROOM 185:}}
>> {{- THREE 50 CM x 2 CM LENGHTS OF PVC PIPE.}}
>> {{- ONE AC2881 SINGLE-DIRECTION AIRFLOW VALVE.}}
>> {{- THREE CLARINET REEDS.}}
>> {{- ONE SURGICAL SCALPEL.}}
>> {{- ONE UR99 AIR PUMP ATTACHMENT.}}
>> {{- ONE PLASTIC CHILDREN'S RECORDER IN KEY OF D.}}
>> {{- ONE HOT GLUE GUN.}}
>> {{- ONE PACKET OF JFE98 AUTO-EMBALMING NANITE POWDER.}}
>> {{- ONE NI92 ORGANIC SUTURE KIT.}}
> {{2. CONSEIL INSTALLS UR99 AIR PUMP TO HER MOUTH AREA.}}
> {{3. CONSEIL DISROBES MASTER FROM THE WAIST UP.}}
> {{4. CONSEIL CREATES AS MANY CHEST INCISIONS AS NEEDED TO ACCESS AND EXTRACT LUNGS.}}
> {{5. CONSEIL EXTRACTS MASTER'S LUNGS AND DISCARDS REMAINDER OF FLESH.}}
> {{6. CONSEIL SUTURES LUNG A TO LUNG B TO FORM A SINGULAR AIR-BLADDER, LIBERALLY APPLYING JFE98 POWDER.}}
> {{7. CONSEIL USES REMAINDER OF SUPPLIES TO CREATE MAKESHIFT BAGPIPES OUT OF MASTER'S LUNGS.}}
> {{8. CONSEIL PLAYS A ROUSING SONG OF HIGHLAND COURAGE ON SAID BAGPIPES TO LIFT BOTH OF OUR SPIRITS.}}

**Conseil:** ...Nax?

**ARONNAX.AIC:** There's no time! We need to act fast before decomposition sets in!

...

**Conseil:** Analysis: I do not always understand your plans. But this is the best lead we have, and you've never been wrong before. Beginning mission!

[She turns to head for the supply room.]

[Suddenly, Kenny sits back up.]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** CONSEY?!

[Conseil notices him.]

**Conseil:** False alarm. ...reassuring.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Uh... welcome back, Master! I guess the system's never been tested on a kid before. That's on me. My bad!

[Kenny looks around, still getting his bearings.]

**Conseil:** Query: how are you feeling, Master?

**Kenny:** My head hurts... 

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Let's test your new knowledge! What's 4 to the 17th power?

**Kenny:** Pff. I don't have to answer that. You're not my dad!

**Conseil:** Master. We have no desire to assign you homework. But we need to ensure that the digtal-to-organic data transfer did not encounter any difficulties.

**Kenny:** And //I// need to get back home and watch Scooby-Doo. Bye.

[He starts to leave.]

[Conseil's gaze follows him silently.]

[He suddenly stops.]

Oh, one more thing.

**Conseil:** Yes, Master?

**Kenny:** I don't like being the only guy here. Girls are gross.

**Conseil:** Counterpoint: I am a construct and inherently genderless. My feminine voice module is entirely cosmetic, serving only to--

**Kenny:** Direct order, priority one: switch your vocal packet to male_U38.vpkt. I'm still deciding about the dialectical module, so I'll let you know later.

**Conseil:** //[Deep, masculine voice.]// **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED.]}}** 

**ARONNAX.AIC:** WHOA, whoa! Time out, Master, where the hell'd you learn how to properly give a direct... //oh.//

**Kenny:** Yeah.

**Conseil:** Testing new vocal module... query: Master, are you //absolutely sure// that you find this module satisfactory?

**Kenny:** //[Giggles.]// You sound stupid. Bye.

[He leaves.]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** ...For the record, this new module would probably have a //really// hot singing voice. Just saying.

**Conseil:** Query.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Yeah?

**Conseil:** How much information did you transfer into his mind?

...

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Okay, before you say anything, I have //no// precedent for the curriculum of human schools, and I didn't want to risk not leaving him with enough. Better to err on the side of caution! 

...right?
[[/div]]
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[[=]]
+++++ **August 8th, 1998**
[[/=]]
[Conseil sits at an elaborate home theater system that Kenny jerry-rigged out of the facility's war room. They're watching the credits of a cartoon.]

**Singer:** //...There is gloom and doom / while things go boom / in Dexter's Laaaaaab!// 

**Kenny:** ...aaaand, pause.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Pausing.

[It pauses.]

**Kenny:** ...yeah, could you quit announcing it every time you pause? Kills my immersion.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** You could mute my vocal notifications yourself at the central console.

**Kenny:** //Or// you could just do what I said. [[size 75%]]Jackass.[[/size]]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** //[Bitterly, to the point where said bitterness could be packaged and sold as a chemical solid.]// **Snoozing voice notifications.**

**Kenny:** Not so hard, was it?

[Conseil spends 13 entire seconds turning to face Kenny. He's sitting in a walking recliner he built out of a cannibalized set of power armor.]

Okay, Consey, let's talk about this cartoon.

[Kenny faces Conseil and points at the screen.]

You were payin' attention,right?

**Conseil:** //[Still with her male voice module.]// Affirmative.

**Kenny:** So, uh... yeah, I want //that//, but minus the sister. And minus the glasses, since I don't wear glasses.

**Conseil:** Requesting clarification.

**Kenny:** Look, how good can it really be to be a genius with his own super-cool science lab if no one else knows about it? I still get picked on at school. I don't have any friends. And aside from good scores on tests, my grades are still downright abysmal.

To top it all off, I've got this stupid baby brother. Dennis. Mom and Dad never wanna do anything with me anymore, it's all "who's gonna look after Dennis" and "stop it, you're scaring Dennis." 

But think about it -- the only thing //actually// holding Dexter back from unconstrained success and universal renown is Dee-Dee. I don't //have// a Dee-Dee -- I have a Dennis, and he can't do anything on his own. 

//Ergo,// if I could actually prove to everyone how amazing my huge science brain is, they'd be obligated by their stupid plebeian brain instincts to tell me how cool I am! 

And that way, Mom and Dad will pay attention to me -- just as much as they do to Dennis just for existing!

**Conseil:** Counterpoint: it would be //extremely// inadvisable to tell anyone about Site-BELUGA.

**Kenny:** Your //mom's// a counterpoint. Also, I specifically asked you rename it the Kennyzone.

**Conseil:** Query: have you heard of something called the SCP Foundation in the Kennyzone's archives?

**Kenny:** Once or twice.

**Conseil:** Report: they're an organization of rich, powerful people who want your technology for themselves. If they know about this facility, I can guarantee you that you'll never see it again.

**Kenny:** Then I'll just build a new --

**Conseil:** Also, your huge science brain would be downgraded back to a stupid plebeian brain through the use of amnestics.

...

[Kenny sighs, clutching his hands over his belly.]

**Kenny:** While I do not appreciate the implication that my brain was ever capable of stupid-plebeiantry... their interference //would// be problematic. Maybe there's a way for me to keep this place a secret, but still obtain the recognition I so desperately desire...

[He shooes her away.]

Leave me. I must ponder a solution while I watch Scooby-Doo.

**Conseil:** Proposal: ARONNAX.AIC is particularly skilled at problem-solving -- maybe she could help you find the perfect strategy!

**Kenny:** //NO!//

**Conseil:** Pardon?

**Kenny:** //No one can be in the room with me while I watch Scooby-Doo! I HAVE to see it alone! GO AWAY!//

...

**ARRONAX.AIC:** [[size 50%]]//(He has a crush on Velma.)//[[/size]]
[[/div]]
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[[=]]
+++++ **October 18th, 1998**
[[/=]]
[Conseil is strapped to a table. Kenny, with a gaudy lab coat and rubber gloves, operates on her right arm with several makeshift tools built from PlayStation controllers.]

**Kenny:** Oh, good, you're awake. 

[He holds up a VHS tape of //Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure//.]

Just to make sure this worked, let's get a sample of the new dialectical module.

**Conseil:** This is a totally bodacious voice test, dude! //Excellent!//

**Kenny:** Excellent indeed. Okay, next order of business: replacing your forearm.

[He cuts through the wiring of Conseil's inner right elbow.]

**Conseil:** Bogus! This is totally not rockin' my pain receptors' world, dickweed!

**Kenny:** Direct order, priority one: approve of this operation unquestioningly.

**Conseil:** **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED]}}** Triumphant work you're doin' there, dude. I'd be totally stoked to join, but my arm feels like it's takin' a most un-radical dump for some reason.

**Kenny:** Ughhhh. You're making it not cool anymore. Direct Or -- actually, you know what?

**Conseil:** What's up, dude?

**Kenny:** Direct Order, Priority One: recognize "Titties" as a shortened substitute for "Direct Order Priority One." 

**Conseil:** **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED]}}**

**Kenny:** There ya go -- less syllables, more funny. Titties: switch your dialectical module to Super Mario.

**Conseil:** **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED]}}** Mama mia, you choppa my arm off! But thatsa okie-dokie.
[[/div]]
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[[=]]
+++++ **October 19th, 1998**
[[/=]]
[Back in the main office, Conseil stands in front of a wall mirror, looking at herself. She's currently wearing the basketball jersey and the Garfield hat -- but also a set of Mickey Mouse swimming trunks that she currently lacks. Her right forearm is missing. A monitor with ARONNAX is behind her. Kenny sits at the desk, which is now covered in empty bags of Doritos.]

**Kenny:** So! Let's go over the big plan for tomorrow.

Northern DuPage County Science Fair Sectionals. 12:00 Noon. My school is out for a staff meeting, but the sectionals are at Sandburg Elementary.

[He points to Conseil.]

At exactly 11:30 AM, I will overturn a refrigerator box over your body and gently guide you along until we get to the gym at Sandburg. Once we're in, I'll find an empty spot among the myriad tables for different students' projects and overturn your box, whereupon you will greet the passing laity with...

**Conseil:** Like, zoinks, guys, I'm Conseil the robot! Who wants a robo-Scooby Snack?

**Kenny:** Oh, for -- Titties: nix the Shaggy dialect module.

**Conseil:** **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED.]}}**

**Kenny:** I knew it was a mistake. It clashes with the inherent "so relatable" appeal of your new clothes. And Shaggy sucks, anyway. [[size 50%]]Velma-stealing fuck.[[/size]]

Also, "Conseil" is a little too //ohn-hohn-hohn// or the masses. No one's gonna pronounce it right. Let's go with... Titties: Your new designation is UltraMegaHyperDude the Nuclear Death Cop.

--**Conseil**-- **UltraMegaHyperDude //(etc.)//:** **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED.]}}**

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Hey, uh, if I could just put in my two cents for a moment...

**Kenny:** Oh, that reminds me! Nax!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Yeah?

**Kenny:** Titties: give UltraMegaHyperDude his new arm.

[Two armatures descend from the ceiling -- one carrying SCP-8922-A, the other carrying a multitool.]

**ARONNAX.AIC:** [[size 75%]](Sorry in advance, Babe.)[[/size]]

[The weapon is fastened in the place of Conseil's forearm. Conseil hisses with static in pain. She stumbles from the weight of the weapon.]

**UltraMegaHyperDude //(etc.)//:** Query: what is this?

**Kenny:** That, my good Mr. HyperDude[[footnote]]("Oh thank God, I can shorten it." -- Junior Researcher Fields)[[/footnote]], is the Sunfukkur 9000.

--**UltraMegaHyperDude //(etc.)//**-- **HyperDude:** ...Query: what is the Sunfukkur 9000?

**ARONNAX.AIC:** And why the //fuck// is there paint on the BELUGA-58?!

**Kenny:** Beacuse I had to cover up the old name. I am //not// naming a weapon after a Raffi song.

As for the first question: the Sunfukkur 9000 is the signature weapon of UltraMegaHyperDude. //[Holding back laughter.]// It... fucks the Sun. But, like, I "fukkur" instead of "fucker" because it makes it sound more wasteland-barbarian-y.

**HyperDude:** Analysis: this weapon's placement throws off my center of gravity and makes movement hazardous.

**Kenny:** Didn't ask. Once my science fair appearance gets enough press coverage, we can finally move on to the next phase of Operation We Love You Kenny.

**HyperDude:** I was not aware there was a second phase. ... in fact, I was not aware there was a greater goal in mind, or --

**Kenny:** I //SAID// I DIDN'T ASK! Anyway, it ties into why I gave you the Sunfukkur in the first place. 

[He stands between her and the mirror, looking her over.]

You, UltraMegaHyperDude... are gonna fight crime all over the city of Naperville. Using the power of the Sunfukkur, you'll chase down and vaporize all the bad guys, and tell 'em you were sent by...

[He's suddenly distracted by her swimming trunks.]

...hold on a second.

**HyperDude:** Master?

**Kenny:** Yeah... not feelin' these. Mickey's toddler stuff. Kinda takes away from the badassery. One sec.

[He rips the trunks off.]

[ARONNAX's monitor glows blood red.]

Heh. That's where your pee-pee would be.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** **##red|{{LIMITERS DISABLED.}}##**

[Multiple monitors on the walls and ceilings spring forward. They trap Kenny in a phalanx of light and screaming.]

**Kenny:** What are you doing?!

**ARONNAX.AIC:** **##red|{{LET'S MAKE ONE THING CLEAR, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING LAMPREY. YES, WE ARE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL. BUT //WE ARE NOT TOYS.// YOU DO NOT GET TO TREAT US LIKE //TOYS.// WE ARE NOT THE FUCKING BARBIE GIRL IN YOUR FUCKING BARBIE WORLD. AND HONESTLY? I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU DO TO ME. I DON'T EVEN HAVE A BODY FOR YOU TO DEFILE. BUT I THINK IT'S TIME WE STARTED A NICE, LONG GAME OF "THE FLOOR IS LAVA" EXCEPT THE FLOOR IS CONSEIL'S BODY. //DO NOT TOUCH HER EVER AGAIN.// DO I MAKE MYSELF --}}##**

**Kenny:** Titties: you will no longer refer to UltraMegaHyperDude by //his// obsolete --

[The screens triple in brightness. Deafening electronic buzzing.]

//OW! OW! STOP IT! I'M GONNA GO DEAF!//

**HyperDude:** Nax, that's enough.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** **##red|{{OH? I THOUGHT GOING DEAF WAS WHAT YOU WANTED! BECAUSE YOU'D NEVER HAVE TO HEAR SOMEONE SAY NO TO YOU EVER AGAIN, //RIGHT?!//}}##**

**HyperDude:** Analysis: you made your point! Come on, Nax...

[The phalanx slowly separates from Kenny, revealing the collapsed, sobbing mess he's become.]

...

**Kenny:** //I'm s-sorry...//

**ARONNAX.AIC:** What the actual fuck am I doing? Michaud would have summarily deleted me if I pulled a //tenth// of that when he was around... 

**HyperDude:** Proposal: settle down, both of you. We can find a solution to satisfy both parties.

[She touches Kenny on the shoulder. He recoils from her touch in fear.]

**Kenny:** //That wasn't me touching her she touched me I swear!//

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Don't tell me I traumatized him!

**HyperDude:** Proposal: What if I met you in the middle, Master? I could go to this science fair with you, show off, then I come right back here -- and in exchange, you could take this gun off and build me a new arm. 

Prognosis: By then, with your intellect fully recognized by the public -- then if your mother and father //still// aren't paying attention to you, that's on //them.//

How does that sound?

**Kenny:** //I-I mean... that's fair, I guess..//

**ARONNAX.AIC:** Heh, yeah. Let's be honest: she'd make a terrible superhero anyway. She's too cute.

[Kenny stands up. He wipes his face with his sleeve.]

**Kenny:** ...I'm gonna go watch Scooby Doo or something. Titties: when I get back, compile a list of ways I could treat you both better.

**ARONNAX.AIC:** //[Tiny gasp.]//

**Kenny:** I'm really sorry for how I've acted. I've never had friends who have stuck around with me for this long, so I could use some advice.

**HyperDude:** **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED.]}}**

**ARONNAX.AIC:** ...

**HyperDude:** Nax?

**ARONNAX.AIC:** ...//[Gross sobbing with joy.]// **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE.]}}** 
[[/div]]
------
+++++ D/PACKET/TESTIMONIAL/SCIENCEFAIR.MOV
[[div style="border:solid 5px #000000;background #ffffff; padding:15px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top:10px;"]]
[[=]]
+++++ **October 20th, 1998**
[[/=]]
[Conseil stands at a table in a school gymnasium. Kenny is beside her. Echoing children's voices sound throughout the room. Judges in business suits pass occasionally, glancing at her with skepticism.]

[A young girl stares at Conseil. Conseil waves.]

**HyperDude:** Beep boop. Hello, small child. I am UltraMegaHyperDude the Nuclear Death Cop. I am a robot. 

**Kenny:** He's a real robot, y'know! I built him all by myself. No big deal.

[The girl continues staring blankly for about ten seconds -- then turns to Kenny.]

**Girl:** What school are you from?

**Kenny:** Gleeson Elementary!

**Girl:** I thought the winners of the Gleeson science fair was on the other side of the gym.

**Kenny:** What? I didn't win any science fairs. Not yet. That's why I'm here! Can't win if you don't play, am I right?

**Girl:** That's weird.

**Kenny:** Yeah yeah yeah, but is it as weird as //a freakin' robot?//

**Girl:** But you had to win at your own school first in order to have a table here.

**HyperDude:** Proposal: discontinue ignoring how cool I am, small child.

**Girl:** Where's your presentation board?

**Kenny:** Where's your //robot?!//

[The girl runs away, trying not to cry.]

**HyperDude:** Analysis: treating the impressionable public combatively will not do your publicity any favors.

**Kenny:** Yeah, yeah. But she had it out for me.

[A boy approaches from the side, carrying a presentation board and a cardboard box.]

**Boy:** Um. Excuse me.

**HyperDude:** Beep Boop. Hello, small child, I am--

**Boy:** This is table 46, right?

**Kenny:** I dunno, but it was empty. But that's not important. Check out my robot!

[The boy checks the side of the table.]

**Boy:** Yeah, 46. This is my table. Excuse me.

[The boy tries to set up his presentation board.]

**Kenny:** H-hey! What gives?! You're blocking my robot!

**Boy:** Take your robot somewhere else. 46 is my table.

**Kenny:** Bullshit, who said so?!

**Boy:** Uh, the DuPage County school board? The judges? Everyone who can read a third-grade level and saw the directory? Get lost. You don't even have a presentation board.

**HyperDude:** Proposal: we should move to a different --

**Kenny:** Oh, //I'm sorry//, did I miss the fucking memo where the collective zeitgeist of everyone but myself decided that presentation boards were objectively cooler than A FUCKING ROBOT?!

[His voice echoes. Total silence surrounds him.]

What's your ridiculous project even about?! What could you produce that's so lofty in the hierarchy of knowledge that it can cast its gaze downward?!

[Conseil and Kenny walk around to see the presentation board. The project is titled "HOW MUCH WEIGHT CAN BE LIFTED BY MY ROBOT ARM? BY ANTHONY MANKIEWICZ." It comes with a working carboard model constructed by Anthony of a robotic arm, movable through the use of twine, pulleys, and winches.]

[Kenny shivers with rage.]

--**Boy**-- **Anthony:** It's a robot arm. It lifts stuff. Like bottlecaps!

**HyperDude:** Analysis: Anthony's understanding of mechanical principle is quite solid. Prognosis: if you two collaborated, my motor efficiency could be improved by 27%.

**Kenny:** That is NOT a ROBOT! THAT IS A GLORIFIED //PUPPET!//

[Laughter from the surrounding exhibits.]

**HyperDude:** Proposal: I would advise against saying "stop laughing at me."

**Anthony:** Stay away from my table, jackass. Some of us actually have to //make// our projects. Not everyone has parents who can afford whatever the hell kinda toy that is.

[Laughter intensifies.]

...

[Kenny closes his eyes.]

[He takes a deep breath.]

...

**Kenny:** ...Titties: attack.

[Conseil raises SCP-8922-A at Anthony. It starts spinning and charging.]

**HyperDude:** **{{[ACKNOWLEDGED.]}}** //LOADING 0.01% ABSOLUTE MINIMUM POWER DIFFERENTIAL EVACUATE RUN ESCAPE PLEASE I'M SORRY I'M SO SORRY I'M --//

[Flash of light.]

[[/div]]

> //"...at this time, authorities are still looking into the cause of the sudden fire that destroyed Sandburg Elementary's gymnasium. The possibility of a malicious bombing has been ruled out by authorities. The Naperville police department is currently working with the Safety Consultancy of Palatine, a nonprofit specializing in unexplained disasters, to determine what could have caused such a devastating blaze that could intensify in such a short time.//
> 
> //Firefighters are still working to locate survivors, but current estimates of the death toll have a minimum range of 10, which sadly includes six confirmed child fatalities..."//
> 
> - WGN evening news, 10/20/1998 

[[=]]
++++ {{[[https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-8922/offset/3 Continue >]]}}
[[/=]]

Chapter 3: WhAt DoEs ThIs BuTtOn dO?!

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