Like Clockworks

Link to article: Like Clockworks.

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//**October 9th, 2024, Site-19 Facility-23. The Facility tasked with containment and testing of SCP-914. Below is the documentation of what happened to some of the employees on that day.**//
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**Tale 1:**


[[collapsible show="+ Daniel Townsend, Senior Researcher" hide="- By Nathan Erikson"]]

//6:15 AM//
The barest hint of fluorescent lighting shone under the door of the Senior Researcher's dorm room, allowing enough illumination for someone theoretically present to see as Daniel James Townsend awoke from another of his recurring nightmares, swinging his upper half to a sitting position with great effort and throwing back the covers as if they were aflame, charring his skin. He ran a hand through his thick coffee-colored hair as he blinked away the film his eyes had developed, his other hand snaking over to his bedside lamp. Townsend depressed the button at its base, overwhelming the faint lighting with the 700-lumen LED and eliminating the long shadows that hung over him. A sigh escaped Townsend as he climbed free of his sweat-soaked mattress and meandered over toward the bathroom to start preparing for the day, his unwelcome dream already beginning to fade.

//7:00 AM//
As Townsend opened his door to head out, he reached for the hook affixed to it upon which his hat dangled. It was a simple straw boater with a green ribbon, which Townsend plucked from its resting place and carefully set upon his head. He glanced behind him at posters and his dresser covered in video game memorabilia, then stepped through the door, closed it, and navigated the hall to the cafeteria with a perpetually carefree smirk across his face and a jaunty spring in his step.

//7:26 AM//
Townsend disposed of the remainder of his breakfast, placing his tray in the proper receptacle. A man can only eat the same three dozen menu items so many times before he starts to get sick of them. While traveling to the breakroom, the researcher continued sipping from a little paper cup of pulp-free orange juice. He still had roughly an hour and some change before he needed to get to the labs and begin his workday, and he'd be damned if he was going to start early because of some silly little nightmare. Townsend had witnessed too many people throwing themselves into their work to stave off the uneasiness the machine put in their hearts and minds, and he knew where that route eventually led; he had decided a few years ago he'd always try to enjoy his life at the Foundation, no matter the situation or consequences. It simply wasn't worth stressing himself out like everyone else. Stepping into the breakroom, he pulled his signature toothy grin onto his face and regarded several comrades with a nod before stalking over to a corner and having a seat. He reached into a pocket of his cargo pants and pulled free a Gameboy SP to pass the time playing, still smiling as mirthfully as a Cheshire cat.

//8:28 AM//
Townsend secured his handheld console in his dorm and then went across campus to the other building, entering and heading straight to one of the labs. He began his first daily task, helping and supervising a pair of junior researchers as they analyzed data collected by overnight monitoring performed on several of the newest 914 outputs and wrote up reports graphing said data alongside any conclusions they could draw or hypotheses they could come up with.

//10:01 AM//
Townsend finished working and left the lab just in time to get his notebook violently snatched from his grip by the scrawny tech researcher, Beauviller, who was sprinting past and shouting something in rapid French. He couldn't help himself and began to laugh as he watched her round a corner, crossing the hall to his office to write his report on things like lab efficiency and review any requests or reports submitted for him to look at.

//12:00 PM//
Townsend took a break from work to grab lunch, heading back to the other building to partake in half a meatball marinara sandwich and some potato chips. He glanced around the cafeteria to see who might be around to eat with. He noticed Maxwell MacLean across the cafeteria,and the grin on his face widened considerably. He stopped at the coffee station to make a pair of drinks, his coffee with unethical amounts of sweetened creamer and MacLean's black tea, with no milk and two sugars. Just how he likes it. He beelines over to his fellow senior researcher with the drinks balanced atop his food tray. "Heya, Maxie!"

//12:45 PM//
The time had passed far too quickly, and his lunch break was nearly over; it had flown by, and Townsend wasn't sure why. Certainly, he'd been having fun helping MacLean with their blueprints (and annoying them in the process), but it couldn't just be that, right? Surely, some anomalous influence was at play. Townsend shrugged it off, hurriedly crunching on his last couple of potato chips while glancing over at "Maxie," who was doing the same rushed eating as him. He gave his colleague his standard goodbye wave with his mouth full and darted towards the tray drop-off. Turning, Townsend saw MacLean stand to do the same, then passed through the cafeteria door. He returned to the main building at his usual hurried pace, heading to the experimentation labs to resume his advisory duties.

//3:00 PM//
Townsend had fulfilled his obligations to the preliminary experimentation laboratories, so he headed to his office to catch up on his lower-priority duties. A tune wormed its way into his head, so he hummed along. Oh, that's right. He had to print some finalisation paperwork for Medical Resident Ibarazaki's test. He knew she'd be by around 5, so he had plenty of time. He entered, hooking up his laptop to his workstation and starting the print job on the documents for the newbie.

//5:05 PM//
Townsend idly listened to the retreating footsteps of Ibarazaki and the squeak of her cart's wheels. The medical resident was another in a long series of new faces. He could tell she was still in complete awe of the inscrutable machine and its mysterious wonders. Everyone always seemed to be, for at least their first few months. Then came the inevitable. Townsend began to cheerily hum as he filled out a paper verifying he had approved her access to the testing materials and given her the final go-ahead. First would come a testing incident—something to incite fear, superstition, or frustration with the machine. Then, of course, the unlucky newbie would begin to anthropomorphize the machine in their heads. The Clockworks was angry at them. The machine liked them. SCP-914 was sad. It was a cheeky bastard that didn't care to follow patterns. Townsend giggled loudly enough that it might disturb anyone else who happened to be in the room. To him, it was still just a machine. It always would be. Even if the outputs sometimes caused him nightmares. Townsend turned to his Foundation-issued laptop and resumed his work.

//6:10 PM//
The hatted scientist had finished the last of his office work, which was just a little behind schedule, and was locking up his office before going and checking on the remaining researchers who were finishing their office work. As he sorted through his key ring, he was startled when the door to Director Query's office slammed open at the end of the hall, and a cloud of gray dust or ash drifted out into the air as she ran toward the laboratories. His carefree smirk widened into a grin of mild amusement as he glanced into her discolored office through the doorway before turning and going in the other direction, disregarding whatever shenanigans were happening and humming the tune from earlier to himself lightly. Nobody was hurt, so he didn't care too much to discover what caused the Director's unfortunate circumstance. He didn't want to get himself covered in filth,and besides, he'd most assuredly find out soon, so there was no rush.

//7:06 PM//
Townsend sat in the middle of the cafeteria, picking at some roasted vegetables. Despite knowing they were necessary for his diet, he despised them. Townsend would much rather be sucking on a piece of candy or noshing on some meat or carbs. He was aware this made him seem immature, and he didn't care. Glancing around the table, he confirmed he was still sitting alone. That was fine and expected. He was very high-energy, and most people couldn't handle that at this time of day. He pulled his handheld video game from his pocket and slowly worked through the veggies while distracting himself with the electronic. When he finally finished, he moved locations to the break room but remained intently focused on his game.

//9:45 PM//
The senior researcher slunk into his dorm, shutting the door behind him. His ever-present smile finally dropped as soon as he hung up his hat. The evening was over, and being overly chipper all day was exhausting. The moment he allowed himself to relax his face and turn off the cheer, he could feel all his uncertainties and doubts creeping in. Should he have checked on Director Query then instead of waiting for information regarding the incident to be disseminated? Was he doing right by the interns and junior researchers he was advising? Was that thing the output had shown him the other morning something he unconsciously wanted? An infectious plague of self-doubt began enveloping his mind, just like every other night. He quickly dressed down and brushed his teeth, trying to escape to his bed. Unfortunately for Townsend, dreams weren't the solution he sought, and he soon fell into another fitful sleep.

//A smile can get you through the daily grind. - Nathan Erickson//

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**Tale 2:**

[[collapsible show="+ Emi Ibarazaki, Medical Resident" hide="- By DrIbarazaki"]]

//6:45 AM//
Medical Resident Emi Ibarazaki woke up in her room, to the shrill cries of her alarm clock. Sometimes, she forgot that she was at Facility-23, especially after having been there so short. The world of anomalies was so new to her, her parents had told her just a year ago, but she took it remarkably well, and opted to take the path of her father. She hoped he was proud of her, but he was half the globe away, at Research Site 79. She never expected to be transferred over to Site-19, the second largest site, yet then referred to this small facility. But it was nice here. She was glad to work somewhere actually above ground now. She was excited to see what was next, so she got out of bed, put on her prosthetic legs, and started to get ready for the day.

//7:14 AM//
She was still getting used to the new facility, but the people seemed pretty nice, and other than a few minor issues, including the accidental theft of her PC by another intern, everything was going rather well! Her workload was better than the Site-19 main campus, and it felt much homier. The facility was smaller, and more personal, although also a little crowded. She could get used to a place like this. She needed to eat, though, so she went down to the cafeteria. When she got there, she ordered a bowl of cereal and some yogurt, but when she sat down, Dr. Ari joined her. Emi had noticed she also made figurines, but of wood, not wax like Emi, and found them very interesting. Apparently, Air wanted to do a little bit of an art trade. Eventually, they agreed on a deal, a few of Emi's small figures for two of Ari's wooden ones. After that, Dr. Ari left, and Emi finished her cereal. It felt like today would go well!

//7:49 AM//
With breakfast over, and her shift starting soon, Emi made her way to the medical bay. She greeted the other doctors, who were helping to show her the ropes, and began to check on her medical instruments, to make sure they were in peak condition. She made her way to her station and started her day. Today, among their other duties, was the day where all prosthetics had to be checked, to make sure they were all functional. She was still amazed by the levels of technology the Foundation had, but she had gotten used to how they worked. With her shift starting, she called for the first person to report to the medical bay, and began the examination.

//12:00 PM//
With her first shift complete, it was time for her lunch break. It had been a rather slow morning, and most of the prosthetics were in peak condition too. Only one needed replacement and that was due to it reaching the end of its service life. Walking to the cafeteria, she decided that she would try socializing with her new coworkers. A couple of people started talking about books, so she decided to join in, at least for a minute or two. She eventually got sucked into the conversation and ended up trading book recommendations with But then lunch was over, and she had to go back to work. She was looking forward to the test she would do in her free time after her shift was over.

//4:00 PM//
The afternoon was much busier than the morning. A couple of D-class had gotten into a fight earlier, so she had spent most of her time patching them up. She also had to deal with someone who had been hit with a computer mouse to the head. That somehow had caused a minor linear skull fracture, but they'd be fine after some rest. After that, the French technical researcher came asking for 4 grams of Tylenol but was refused by one of the other doctors who had been here longer. She could have sworn she was crying as she left. But when he asked the doctor about it, he just said "That's just what Beau is like." But now that her shift was over, she could finally start her 914 test. Making her way to the storage room, she took the cart with 4 paper shredders on it and confirmed with Senior Researcher Townsend that it was OK for her to start the testing. Taking a D-class from their quarters, she started. "OK, first, put it in on rough…"

//5:13 PM//
A rather interesting result had come out on Very Fine. Emi found these outputs were always very interesting, and she still wasn't used to the fact that anything could happen when it came to 914. It was, after all, only her fifth Very Fine test. The paper shredder had been changed to shred ANYTHING within, burn anything that could burn, didn't need any power, and teleported all the ash and slag somewhere that hadn't been determined. About 25 kg of material, including paper, cardboard, and a few metal sheets had been placed within, charred to slag and ash, and teleported away. Where the materials went was unknown, until, at 6:13 PM exactly, Research Director Query burst into the room, and she didn't look happy.

//7:56 PM//
Finally the Research Director's office was clean and Emi hoped that was the end of it. Glad to have finished, after that rather hectic day, she decided to check in with Researcher Boneka. Boneka would reasonably be considered a tutor to her, as she was the one who was assigned to show her the ropes of working here, and eventually, they turned out to become pretty good friends. However, Emi was still really new, so some help was still needed from time to time. This visit was a mix of both. Emi met with Bonnie at the break room, where they discussed their days, how mad Query was, and how someone put a tank through 914. Emi also learnt that Bonnie was married to Szymons, which was a bit of a surprise. After having generally a pretty good time, after about an hour and a half the two of them went off to their, to finish the day. Emi was pretty exhausted, and with the day done, she flopped into bed and fell asleep within minutes.

//3:17 AM//
Emi was awoken by her pager buzzing loudly. All the other doctors were gone that night, forcing the capable, but still novice, Emi to take care of this case. Cursing to herself, wondering who could possibly need help at this hour, she got out of bed and messily put on her lab coat and scrubs over her sleepwear, hoping it was just a misunderstanding. Upon arriving at the medical bay, however, she realised the issue. On one of the beds was that French technical researcher, all bloodied with torn-up clothes as if they had been in a fight with an angry dog. However, upon examination, they were found to be perfectly fine, at least physically. After the examination was over, she told the French techie to go clean up and then sleep, and upon doing so, went back to her bed, hoping that she wouldn't be awoken again.

//Fin. - DrIbarazaki//

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**Tale 3:**

[[collapsible show="+ Joseph Carpenter, Researcher" hide="- By Classy"]]

//6:00 AM//
Carpenter was already awake. His biological clock had begun waking him up at 5:45 AM sharp about a year ago. Within a few weeks, his third year as an SCP researcher would begin. It felt long ago, but it wasn't. He would spend 15 minutes between waking up and the actual time set for his alarm to go off shortly while brainstorming his day. At the stroke of six though, it’s all routine. Carpenter gently whacked his clock, stopping it before the slightest chirp of the alarm could sound off. He rose from his bed and began. Out of the shower by 6:15, hair and beard made and teeth brushed by 6:25, completely dressed by 6:40, shoes shined by 6:45, tie fixed multiple times by 6:50, and out of his room by 7:00.

//7:15 AM//
Easily one of, if not his favorite part of his day, was making his coffee. Somewhere in the middle of a dark and medium roast, a tablespoon of REAL maple syrup, and an eyeballed amount of half and half. Perfect every time. After his concoction was prepared, he’d sit at his favorite table (second closest to the coffee station so he could shamelessly say good morning to the most people he could) and pull his laptop from his messenger bag. For the next 45 minutes to an hour, he was dedicated to what he called his virtual chores. Sending and replying to emails, updating his schedule, seeing what else the middle of the week needed to tell him, etc. Boring, sure, but soothing in a way.

//8:00 AM//
Carpenter waited for both the minute and second hand to align with 12 and then closed his laptop. He slid it back into his bag and washed his coffee mug out. Now it was work time. He exited the breakroom and made his way to the office. Sitting down, he turned on his desktop. Today’s workload was fairly light and self-made. He opened up one of his many, extensive note documents. In these, he brainstormed ideas for testing and often found himself trying to predict what 914 may do with them. He’d attempted many times to find patterns or connections of any kind within the 1999 tests that had been done before the 2000 incident. He’s come up with a few that he thinks may have merit, and has discussed them with his fellow researchers, but none of them have harnessed the right energy, so to speak. He’d kill for his own eureka moment. Regardless, it was time for him to contribute once again. He scrolled through the seemingly never-ending list of items he’d considered for testing. They all held their value, but nothing jumped at him. Since he began working here, he’s always liked the idea of testing “simple” items. Everyday things, as they are. What interesting revisions could be found in the mundane? Then it clicked for him. Or rather, it ticked. He looked down at his wristwatch. Hmm.

//12:00 PM//
After NOT spending an hour and a half of his morning accidentally falling down a rabbit hole of antique restoration videos, Carpenter headed for the cafeteria. After waving to Lacte and taking a seat with his food, he opened his laptop once again and began looking up dirt cheap wristwatches. He had thought about using his own, but he kinda liked his particular watch, and didn’t want to risk it. The irony though, was the watch he had was just as cheap as the ones he was searching for. Why not get the same one? After submitting the order for testing purposes, he began watching a YouTube video listing some obscure horror books by lesser-known authors. He had the volume increased rather high to drown out Townsend and MacLean’s blueprint bickering. He needed some new reading material, and the season called for something thrilling. A thought crossed his mind. What about asking his coworkers? There was absolutely an eclectic blend of interest to be found here, he knew that much, so a shortage of new ideas to consider was not an issue. He abhorred yet embraced the stereotype, but he was indeed the type to enjoy a hot beverage with a good book. Sounded like a plan after the day’s end. Someone entered the cafeteria not too long after he had sat down. It was one of the newer employees, Emily… no, Emi Ibarazaki was it? He approached her, and introduced himself, welcoming her. Before any awkward silence could set in, he pulled the trigger and promptly asked her for a book recommendation. He explained he had just come up with the idea, and she was the first he got to ask. She replied with The Adventures of Tintin. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he loved that answer a lot.

//2:28 PM//
Carpenter had long since returned to his office, still trying to ignore the fact he had scuffed the leather of his shoe on his way out of the cafeteria. Worse, no one else could see it but him. He’d been done with his work for the day already. His afternoons tended to be a bit less busy than his mornings, anyway. During the summer and early fall months, now would be the time he occupied himself with wood or metal working in his craft shed outside. Said work was about a 50/50 split between personal work and actual work work. Sometimes he’d actively go around the facility looking for things he could touch up or fix when allowed to do so. However, today just felt like an inside type of day. It was a bit ironic though, to him anyway, since the main reason he asked for said shed was to build new inputs for 914, but he never got around to it. There would be time. It’s still there. He looked at all of his test ideas once more. He began editing some of them. Wrote, deleted, revised. Wrote, deleted, revised. Wrote, deleted, revised. An hour had passed. No, 3 years had passed.

//5:00 PM//
Carpenter’s list was no longer the length of a novel. It was now 5 things. 5 items. Simple things. No lengthy explanations, no big fancy words. Just single-sentence descriptions. He smiled. It felt refreshing. New. He submitted the items for order, along with a personal order for the book recommendations he’d managed to grab throughout the afternoon, such as a few of the Tintin comics, and Arc of Scythe which was recommended by Dr. Marlon. Now, it was time for another break. He went to his room and looked up at his bookshelf. It began to dawn on him that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to buy more books if he had 10 that he still hadn’t started. No matter, just like he thought about earlier, peak book reading season had just started. He’d have them cleared by the end of the month, easy.

//5:30 PM//
Carpenter was back in the breakroom, at his beloved table. As he promised himself, he embarked on one of the unread books, titled The Mirror Man by Jane Gilmartin, and had another coffee to go with it. He had a single earbud in, which delivered him a deep ambiance to increase his immersion. Just enough to fill the gap of silence. It always worked.

//7:00 PM//
By now Carpenter was truly done for the day. He’d switched his outfit to something more comfortable and had sat down to play some video games. Similarly to his book issue, he was struggling to keep up with the many story-driven single-player games that had begun to pile up in his library. He decided to start with Signalis, a horror game recommended to him by Samantha less than a week ago. For the next 2 hours, that would be what occupied him.

//9:00 PM//
At the strike of 9, Carpenter was ready to turn in. He brushed his teeth, flossed, and got himself into bed. Today was a good day, he had to admit—all the more reason to look forward to having another one tomorrow.

//Slow down! The world already moves fast enough. - Classy//

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**Tale 4:**

[[collapsible show="+ Languen Lacte, Analytics Department Intern" hide="- By Dehydrated Milk"]]

//7:01 AM//
Intern Languen Lacte wakes up. The alarm chirps its discordant melody into his ear, and he rises from his bed. It is time for work. Intern Lacte dresses. There is an entire day ahead, and Lacte is… He is… Interested in what will happen? Intern Lacte decides he is excited for the day.

//7:23 AM//
The personnel residences at Site-19, Facility 23 are… Stuffed. Far too many people for a simple research site. Thankfully, rising early lets him get his morning walk without running into anyone. Afterward, Intern Lacte splashes water on his face. His teeth brushed, his face clean, he exits his quarters just as everyone else is exiting their rooms and into the hallway.

//7:37 AM//
The cafeteria is nice. Homely even. The cook waves at him. He waves back. Today, they're serving waffles. How nice. Lacte heads to the coffee machine and makes himself some black coffee. It takes 13 minutes to make the coffee. He glances at the display of cereals and fruits. He turns, and the cook is avidly waving his hands at him. His waffles are ready! He nods at the researcher. Intern Lacte looks at the selection of cereal and yogurt. He turns and sees Medical Resident Ibarazaki. Repressed trauma from a 914 experiment and somehow stealing five PCs caused a fight-or-flight reflex to activate. Unfortunately, it is quite hard to run balancing an waffle, a bowl of cereal, two yogurts, and a banana.

//8:12 AM//
After the unintended and terrifying human interaction, Intern Lacte heads back to his room. SCP-914 isn't the Intern's permanent job, after all. His instructor calls him on SCiP.net at 8:30 AM, right on the dot. It is time for him to review the Foundation's rules and regulations and undergo the trials of being an intern and drudge into becoming a member of staff.

//9:32 AM//
His instructor logs off. He now has an assignment. "Based on the recent patterns regarding SCP-372-TEST, what are the most probable outcomes for its end destination?" He better get to work.

//12:00 PM//
Lacte's eyes hurt. He has been staring at a screen and reviewing pages upon pages of notes regarding the anomaly. He thinks he has an answer and pings his instructor. He'll likely hear back at… Oh! It's time for lunch! For lunch, there are salads or burgers. Never mind that almost no one at the site can make a good burger and that the salads always seemed a little too old, Intern Lacte was happy to be at lunch. Finally, a break from the mindnumbingness of reviewing data. He waved over to some of his friends. This was… peaceful.

//1:11 PM//
For SCP-914, there were few experiments actually conducted every day. It is, after all, an anomalous object capable of creating memetic hazards, spawning murderous entities, traumatizing people for life, and much more. In fact, its mortality rate was on par with that of SCP-682. Ess-See-Pee Six-Eighty-Two. The immortal death lizard. And a silly little machine that alters objects has a death count as high as it? Now, that wasn't really true, of course, just a rumor talked about by personnel around the water dispenser. But still, it is ominous how many D-Class personnel, as well as employees, have died to 914. As such, in conjunction with rumor and truth, it sometimes took some 914 personnel at least 20 minutes to psych themselves up in the break room before an experiment. Lacte exits the room, slightly more psyched.

//1:44 PM//
His single input for the day was a scarf. On 1:1. Surely nothing bad could happen, right? It took, from 1:47 PM to 1:54 PM, six minutes to conclude refinement. What came out was a noose. Intern Lacte promptly recorded the results and sent the object to waste storage, to be incinerated at a later day.

//2:14 PM//
Languen Lacte walked back to his room. His instructor had replied. And- Oh! He had done great! A fantastic job with his numbers and estimates! Intern Lacte smiled and went back to his monitor, typing, typing, typing.

//3:23 PM//
Personnel could leave the site, whether for errands or pleasure, as long as they showed up and did their allotted hours, they were free to come and go. Especially at Site-19, Facility 23. Languen Lacte walked up to their car and drove to the nearest McDonald's. He needed a treat.

//4:34 PM//
When he came back, the site looked the same. No one had blown something up from a random output, so all should be well. As he was an intern and had no tasks until assigned to something, or until he got a senior supervisor to shadow, he didn't have much to do. So, in an attempt to look busy and curb boredom, Intern Lacte went to the break room and popped open a book. Occasionally, if you worked at Site-19, Facility 23, you would hear the screams of pain or delight as a 914 output dazzled or disemboweled a researcher. Today, there was the screaming of an enraged Research Director and the terrified pleas of a Medical Resident.

//6:24 PM//
Lacte entered his bathroom. The bathrooms they gave in the personnel accommodations weren't the worst, although they certainly were not perfect. Languen over his days in the Foundation had learned that a small space tended to encourage brooding. After sitting in the shower for 30 minutes, he decided to leave.

//7:11 PM//
SCiP.net turned on as Intern Lacte browsed through anomalies he had access to. So many horrors and wonders that the world would never know. He wondered if what he did impacted the world. He wondered and wondered and wandered into the vestiges of sleep before eventually migrating from his desk to his bed.

//9:14 PM//
Like clockwork, Intern Lacte falls asleep.

//Tick Tock, goes the clock. - Dehydrated Milk//
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**Tale 5:**

[[collapsible show="+ Françoise Beauvillier, Technical Researcher" hide="- By Tildeethdouspart"]]

//7:48 AM//
An alarm rings. Someone, somewhere, plugged in a USB drive they shouldn't have plugged somewhere inside this facility. This alarm doesn't exist, but you tend to omit such details when you've been sleeping so little and working so much. She rises from her bed, heading for the emergency reserve of concentrated coffee in her freezer. After downing a packet of caffeine powder - whose existence she both curses and blesses - she gets a move on. She intercepts the dangerous criminal putting at risk this facility's operational capabilities, in this case, an older researcher attempting to review his young daughter's homework, which was flashed onto a standard issue commercial thumb drive (neither Foundation-issued nor secured, mind you! The gall of these people.) before being brought inside the facility. The flash drive was confiscated and sent back to the researcher's residence, and the computer was promptly incinerated. A new one would be issued if the intern made it out of the server room. Er, she meant when. Definitely when.

//8:02 AM//
Technical Researcher Françoise Beauvillier goes to sleep.

//9:57 AM//
She wakes up and takes a routine look at the surveillance cameras of Facility 23 through an easily preventable backdoor she's made sure to fix while leaving a small path for her to access the video feeds. In a corner of the screen, the feed depicted what was happening in Cell 109-B, the resting place of The Clockworks. Which is now being invaded by a person in a white blouse holding what seems to be a tablet. An electronic device. In the cell. Without the proper clearance. She jumps from her chair, and despite her flimsy physique and poor health, she manages a surprising sprint from her office to Cell 109-B. After grabbing on the fly a paper notebook from poor, innocent passing Townsend, she barges inside the room and throws the notebook to the face of the criminal before tackling her and snatching the tablet out of her hands. She was quickly subdued by on-site security and escorted back to her office, all the while screaming various curses and variations on "I saved you all!". She was nonetheless allowed to confiscate the tablet. It was to be returned after proper paperwork was filed.

//10:44 AM//
Technical Researcher Françoise Beauvillier goes to sleep.

//1:00 PM//
An alarm wakes her up. It is time for the daily 1-hour session dedicated to answering the technical issues of the Foundation. A truly thankless job, but it gives one the privilege of seeing new completely inane ways people keep using their computers.

//1:11 PM//
Software Technician Rare passed by T.R. Beauvillier's office.

//1:13 PM//
S.T. Rare was taken to the infirmary after being impacted by a high-velocity computer mouse. They later reported that the last thing they heard was shouting about "terrible contamination", "gross misuse of Foundation equipment", and "needing buckets".

//1:28 PM//
Senior Researcher MacLean enters a very irritated Beauvillier's office, who immediately decides to jump on the occasion for a distraction. S.R. MacLean reports in this instance an issue regarding the Facility's printer. T.R. Beauvillier guarantees that "it's only a printer", and "it should be no issue, especially given the things she's had to fix".

//1:29 PM//
A loud "clang" is heard throughout the facility, reportedly from every direction at once.

//1:30 PM//
T.R. Beauvillier submits an official request to the Site Director to immediately contain every instance of any device whose function is analogous to that of a printer, scanner, copy machine, and, by extension, potentially fax machines, under the justification that "If we do not contain all of these devices immediately, it could spell doom for me, and by extension for the coffee reserves of the entire world, and by further extension, the entire economic system of Brazil". Another similar request was filed, requesting this time for the immediate arrest and containment of "whoever designed the drivers for these machines", under the justification that "no human being can be this evil, there has to be something anomalous in there". Both requests were denied.

//1:39 PM//
T.R. Beauvillier is seen spilling a glass of fake blood under the printer before grabbing a passerby and shaking them wildly while screaming at them to look at the "evilness of this foul creature". She was reprimanded and ordered to clean the spill.

//2:00 PM//
End of the tech issues review session. Technical Researcher Françoise Beauvillier goes to sleep.

//3:16 PM//
Researcher Xasthur knocks on the door to her office, asking for assistance on a computer-related issue regarding the redaction of a recent test report.

//3:20 PM//
T.R. Beauvillier breaks down in tears.

//3:22 PM//
She submits her resignation to Personnel Director Dr. Veritas' office.

//3:25 PM//
An alarm rings on her phone, reporting a critical failure somewhere in the internal infrastructure of the Foundation. She tears up the resignation papers and goes to get a coffee before returning to her office.

//3:34 PM//
Issue resolved, fix pushed. Technical Researcher Françoise Beauvillier goes to sleep.

//4:58 PM//
She wakes up and immediately heads for the infirmary, requesting 4 grams of Tylenol after reportedly "having the existence of the HR guy come to mind". Her request was denied, though she was granted leave for a day. This offer was reportedly taken as such a "good joke," and T.R. Beauvillier left instantly while crying with laughter.

//5:44 PM//
She engages in her daily "feud" with one of the interns of this facility, who has been continuously trying to find a breach in the network security protocol to let their video games' packets pass through the filter. A security engineer has a tough job; where there needs to be one breach to go through, there needs to be total surveillance to prevent it. This time, the intern managed to use their cell phone, which usually benefits from fewer restrictions, as a USB tether for the data to pass through the firewall. T.R. Beauvillier will spend the next hour tacking down the exact MAC address of the incriminated device and boot it off the network.

//7:28 PM//
An alarm rings. This specific frequency implies that something somewhere needs an urgent fix. T.R. Beauvillier enters the server room. For the following 2 hours, several network access issues were reported over the entire facility. After that, numerous "odd" noises were heard in seemingly random electrical closets throughout F23. The whereabouts of T.R. Beauvillier remained unknown until the early hours of the morning.

//3:12 AM//
T.R. Beauvillier exits the server room, in frayed clothes and covered in blood. Night security took her rapidly to the medical office, where a tired Medical Resident Ibarazaki proceeded with a check-up. However, no signs of external and/or internal wounds were seen, and T.R. Beauvillier was allowed to return to her bed.

//3:24 AM//
Technical Researcher Françoise Beauvillier goes to sleep.

//Blessed be those who see in a computer nothing but a fancy tool. - Françoise Beauvillier//

[[/collapsible]]
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**Tale 6:**

[[collapsible show="+ Madison Allen, Researcher" hide="- By T-Roox"]]

//6:55 AM//
Researcher Allen slowly opens her eyes to the pitch darkness of her room. Her brain has adjusted to her alarm, and she frustratingly now wakes up before it goes off. She presses back into blankets and plushies, trying to hold onto the last moments of peace before she needs to get up.

//7:30 AM//
She groans as her alarm finally goes off, slapping the alarm clock several times before successfully shutting it off. Even after 3 years, she hasn’t learned to hit it on the first try. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Allen stretches and plans out the next 30 minutes getting ready for work. She wipes the sleep from her eyes as she stands and walks to take a shower.

//7:43 AM//
Drying off and getting dressed, she takes her prescriptions and glances over at the small makeup kit she has. She needs to practice more but decides to go without it today. Grabbing her keys, phone, ID, and wallet, Allen opens the door and steps out before freezing and jumping back to grab her glasses before the door closes behind her, and she begins the walk to her office.

//7:51 AM//
Setting down her coffee mug next to the other junk on her desk, Aeronautical Researcher Allen opens the muffin she grabbed for breakfast and starts eating. She is still getting used to her new responsibilities as one of the Foundation's regional aviation workers, working in tandem with some of the other facilities nearby to manage Foundation aviation activity in the area. 8-hour shifts, 00:00 to 08:00 AM, 08:00 AM to 04:00 PM, and 04:00 PM to midnight. She dreads those night shifts with a passion.

//12:04 PM//
Halfway done. Her break technically started 4 minutes ago, but she still had to finish up assisting one last flight before lunch. She stands up and starts walking to the other building to grab some food, fidgeting with a tennis ball she had sitting on her desk. She bounces it off the floor as she walks, using the time to try and come up with some new test ideas, it has been a while since she's run one. She notices Senior Researchers Maclean and Townsend sitting at a table but unfortunately doesn't have time to socialize today, having already lost a good chunk of her 30-minute lunch break.

//12:29 PM//
Stepping back into her office, Allen tosses the ball back into the bowl it was sitting in haphazardly, muttering an expletive as it instead knocks over her luckily empty coffee cup. Great start to the next 4 hours, she thinks to herself, rubbing her brow.

//4:00 PM//
Sighing as she stands up from her desk, Allen stretches and shakes her head, knocking out the fatigue from sitting in a chair all day. She much prefers to pace while thinking or working, and she plans to do just that as she shuts down her computer and closes her office for the day, adjusting her glasses as she starts off into the facility.

//6:00 PM//
Having run into Samantha Szymons on her walk around the floor, she asked the MTF sergeant if he wanted to hit the range on his break. Allens always had trouble shooting Glock handguns before, though she's never been sure why, and is trying to sort it out. She hopes that she’ll be as good a shot as Sam one day, though she doubts the possibility without having gone through MTF training.

//7:04 PM//
Unfortunately, Sam needs to get back to work “protecting the site” or whatever, so Allen heads back to the break room to grab an apple she had left in the fridge. Pulling a blade out of her coat, she begins cutting it up into slices as she walks back to her room, being extra careful this time. Her hands are spotted with cuts from doing just this, but she's too stubborn to do it any other way. She keeps band-aids in her breast pocket just in case, though.

//7:30 PM//
Tossing the remnants of the apple into the trash, Allen settles down in her room and starts her computer. She likes to end the day by playing some video games, and there's been a couple of new releases she's been wanting to try out.

//10:45 PM//
She finally stands up from her desk and heads to the bathroom to get set for bed. She’ll probably lie awake for an hour or so still, but she's grown accustomed to it by this point. She finishes brushing her teeth, turns off the lights, and cautiously walks back across the room to her bed, setting her alarm for the next morning, before laying down and finishing her day.

//1:40 AM//
Unfortunately unable to fall asleep, Allen begins to feel hungry and sleepily trod to the break room to grab an apple and some peanut butter. Finding both, she reaches for her knife once again, forgetting that she hadn't grabbed her lab coat. She runs back to her room to grab it, but by the time she returns both the apple and peanut butter are missing, along with the rest of the snack food on the counter... She'll ask about it tomorrow, but for tonight she begrudgingly decides on some reheated pizza and heads back to bed.

//Tomorrow is another day. - T-Roox//

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**Tale 7:**

[[collapsible show="+ Maxwell MacLean, Senior Containment Engineer" hide="- By AtomicGummyGod"]]

//5:30 AM//
Maxwell MacLean wakes up to his phone alarm going off and groggily rolls out of bed. The day is young. He’s got to make lunches for 5 kids, then get their breakfasts ready.
Schedule check.
Work’s at 9, Tass has High School at 7, Abi and Adam’s got Elementary at 8, and the Twins need to be at Middle School right after. It’s 5…40ish.
That’s doable.
Hope they’re fine with leftover roast beef for lunch.

//7:00 AM//
Tass is out of the house. MacLean sent him out with his lunchbox and a hug. His driver’s license is a godsend, meaning the Twins don’t have to be at school 2 hours early. He’ll have to get him a new game as a present. Time to get the other kids out of bed.

//7:45 AM//
Taking the other kids to school. Abi and Adam have grown so fast. Sammy and Cain have the early mornin’ grumps (probably all those hormones), so MacLean makes a note to grab a treat for them later, surprise them when he helps them with their homework.

//8:30 AM//
Reports, reports, reports.
More new objects he gets clearance for, more new containment procedures Maxwell’s gotta design, then send out for the engineers to make sure things don’t go to hell at the main site. Updates on old objects with new details, revisions he needs to make for his designs, and yet another breach caused by someone who cut corners. Ugh. Townie’s gonna have a field day with this.

//10:00 AM//
It’s time for a break. MacLean’s bad leg is aching, his good leg’s falling asleep, and he needs some fresh air, stat. As he makes his way out of the building, he makes a point to avoid the main testing chamber. He isn’t //quite// ready for the violent French cursing he heard down the hall, either. Someone //else// can try calming down Beauvillier, first. The last time he tried, he got a mug broken over his head.
MacLean takes a seat on a bench outside the facility, pulling out a worn-out paperback. Reading until he finishes the chapter, he gently dogears the page, before walking back inside. Back to work.

//11:30 AM//
He’s got to get some blue light lenses. These glasses just aren’t gonna cut it. MacLean leans back in his chair, trying to rub the ache out of his eyes. Shifting back into the role of a Containment Specialist with the promotion wasn’t an unwelcome one, despite the… unpleasant memories.

('Cause getting his calf bitten off is //just// an unpleasant memory. Stupid lizard.)
He gets flexible hours, better pay, and less time arms deep in anomalous stuff, a total win! The fluorescent lighting’s a real eyesore, though.

//12:00 AM//
As MacLean examines blueprints over a burger and fries, he’s interrupted by his name being shouted out. He locks eyes with a longtime colleague, giving them a sardonic grin. “G’day, James. You want some coffee with that creamer?”

Townsend grumbles at MacLean calling him by his middle name, before passing over MacLean’s tea and scanning the design on the table. No milk, 2 sugars. Just how he likes it.

Townsend is a whirlwind of activity, Scratching notes in the margins, empathizing with MacLean over budgetary constraints, and as exhausted as he is, Maxwell can’t help but take in that manic energy and mirror it back. Bickering, laughing, inside jokes. They’re making a scene, (and getting crumbs on his blueprints, for that matter!) he’s certain of it, but that’s a problem for later. For now, they’ve gotta figure out how to fit a Reality Anchor into a compartment half the size of a standard model’s dimensions. The lunch break flies by, and before he knows it, he’s waving goodbye to Townsend and making his way back to his office.

//1:00 PM//
MacLean’s inbox is slowly weeded to size. Townsend’s (Heh, James) help managed to solve the most difficult design of the day, so all he’s got are revisions to old designs. Add a backup system here, modular plates to make the cell easily repairable there, change an alloy in the support structures to be more corrosion resistant… New messages are replacing the old ones, but he’s managing to whittle them down a bit faster than they appear.

//1:25 PM//
MacLean hesitantly steps into Beauvillier’s Office. His printer broke, and that’s not great when you need hard copies for archival purposes. However, Françoise is… unhinged at the best of times, and it appears he didn’t come in at a… great time. She appears happy to help though, so he’ll just leave her to it.

//1:35 PM//
It turns out it was a paper jam. Hardware, easy fix. Took like, a minute and a half. MacLean doesn’t think he’s ever seen Beau cry like that before. Awkward.

//2:00 PM//
If you asked him what his first instinct was when he saw the two in the breakroom, MacLean would have to ashamedly admit that his first instinct was to make a joke. “No, no, keep goin, no need to stop on my behalf.” Fortunately, that instinct was paused in favor of instead awkwardly grabbing some snacks and speed walking out of there, waving to Marlon as he went.

//3:30 PM//
MacLean’s fingers are sore from typing and sketching. At this point, he’s solving issues as they appear. He could clock out now, but that’s work he’s gotta make up when he’s on call over the weekend.

//4:00 PM//
Day’s done, for the most part. MacLean sets up his email to forward urgent revisions to the next CS on shift and gathers up his blueprints and sketches. He drops them off at the Archive, chatting with Xasthur as he helps her sort them into neat piles.

//4:45 PM//
As MacLean takes a breather before the drive home, he sees Boneka again. They exchange a quick (and awkward) laugh about the incident in the breakroom, he tells a regaling tale about his family’s latest escapades (He has SO many stories to tell!), and before long, they trade polite farewells as he packs his computer bag and makes his way to the parking lot. Bon was probably one of his best friends, (along with James, even if they’d never admit it aloud,) being assigned to the facility around the same time certainly didn’t hurt. 5 Years of having to relearn social dynamics, trading stories and test ideas, and chatting about hobbies and interests counts as friendship, right? MacLean hopes they’re his friends, he doesn’t really have a social life outside of work.

//5:30 PM//
MacLean picked up some donuts on the way back from work, he figured the kids would appreciate the treat. Tass brought the other kids back from school, so he’s just gotta get dinner ready.

//6:45 PM//
Baked Potatoes, Cajun Wings, and Donuts for dessert. MacLean helps the kids with homework afterward. He’s not all that good at language arts, but he can handle the math ‘n science stuff just fine.

//8:30 PM//
He’s playing games with Tass. Kid’s 17, MacLean oughta tell him about the Foundation, get him level 0 clearance. But they’ve already got so much to deal with, college apps coming up, social stuff. He doesn’t want them to worry about even more stuff out of their control. That’s why he’s working so hard, right? So his kids can sleep easy, not worrying about cosmic horrors beyond their comprehension?

...It’s a Friday. He’s gotta work the night shift tomorrow, has to sleep in the afternoon anyway. As the day turns to night, MacLean keeps playing video games with his son. He’s allowed to enjoy these quiet moments. No guilt in that. No guilt in embracing the calm.

//11:30 PM//
If you told Maxwell MacLean what his life would be like as a teen, he wouldn’t have believed you. Scientific Researcher, single father at 35, one of many holding the door shut, keeping nightmares from walking the earth. But that’s the way life goes, right? Things don’t tend to go to plan. No matter. MacLean settles to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day.

//Doing better than you did the day before is all anyone can ever ask of you. - AtomicGummyGod//

[[/collapsible]]
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**Tale 8:**

[[collapsible show="+ Ari Marlon, Researcher" hide="- By Scythe Asgore"]]

//5:00 AM//
Dr. Ari Marlon woke up for the first time. She was hot underneath her three blankets, but it was still dark outside. She supposed it was too early to be up; the sun hadn't risen yet. So she snuggled under her top blanket. She was going to go back to sleep, but then she heard the new HR guy's alarm go off. The alarm was a woman screaming loud enough to wake up half the facility. Presumably, the HR guy woke up and turned his alarm off, because once it was silent again, Ari could go back to sleep.

//7:00 AM//
She wakes up for real, spending about half an hour reading on her tablet, because she's too lazy to get out of bed. Her bed was also so comfy, she wouldn't want to if she had nothing to do that day, but alas… Marlon had projects to complete.

//7:30 AM//
Now fully awake, Ari was ready to start her day. She got up, did her eye drops, got dressed, and went to find something to eat for breakfast. Despite the little she could tell her family about in regards to her work, they still did worry that she didn't eat enough.

//8:25 AM//
Ari had found something she wanted to eat, so after finishing her food, she grabbed an extra cup of tea to enjoy while working. She passed by one of the new researchers, Ibarazaki, who was still eating. Since it was before 8:30, Ari figured it was fine to have a small talk with the new researcher, or rather, new medical resident as she had noticed Ibarazaki's wax sculptures the other day and thought they would go well with her own wooden figurines. Once she was done, and now having plans for a couple of Ibarazaki figurines, she leisurely walked to her office.

//8:30 AM//
For consistency's sake, she never started her work day before 8:30. Once in her office, Ari checked to see if there was anything she needed to do. There wasn't much besides planning for her next test, which meant filling out some forms and putting the finishing touches on her gavels. The plastic gavel she ordered hadn't come yet, and the extra figurines she was planning to use in tests weren't anywhere near ready, but that didn't have to be done by today.

With all the new researchers and interns coming in though, Ari thought it would be a good time to update her figurine collection to include them. She already had her Ibarazaki plans, but not any of the other newbies yet.

//12:00 PM//
Ari grabbed her reading tablet and went off to find lunch. She wasn't that hungry, but she figured she could get a bowl of fruit or something. She also needed to find Carpenter as she wanted to add more figurines to her collection, and he had given her a specific request that she felt she had to fulfill. The other day Carpenter had asked for some more book recommendations, and Ari was still happy she got to recommend the Arc of a Scythe series to more people.

//12:30 PM//
Ari was back to work. She had a bit of paperwork to do, after putting it off for longer than she was planning to. As she worked, she kept her world-building document off to the side to quickly jot down some new ideas if they ever came.

//2:00 PM//
At two, Ari started to get a headache. Nothing she couldn't deal with on her own because they were regular occurrences caused by staring at things too long, but still it was a sign. A sign she needed a few minutes break.

She walked to the break room to grab a quick snack and some more tea. As she walked towards the break room, Ari passed MacLean as he left. She waved at him and continued on where she heard two people in the break room.

"Not my problem," Ari shrugged as she walked by them and heated some water. If anyone asked, Ari didn't see it. Which was true. Not only did Ari pay minimal attention to her surroundings while not working, but she genuinely couldn't see some of the details when she had headaches.

//2:45 PM//
Break done, Ari was back to work without feeling like her eyes would murder her. She got some notices of new legal papers to fill out and review all due in two days. Ari could do it easily, but still, two days was not a lot of time.

//6:30 PM//
After spending the rest of the afternoon on legal papers, Ari was officially done for the day. Dinner wasn't that impressive, but that was fine. There were things she wanted to carve that night before she went to bed, and an impressive dinner would take a bit too much time for her to enjoy.

//9:30 PM//
A new D-Class figurine sat on Ari's desk as she yawned. It was time for bed. To her, today was a good day. She felt productive, finished a carving, and even got ahead on her work. 30 minutes of reading later, Ari was asleep for the day, ready for the next.

//Average days can be satisfying too. - Scythe Asgore//

[[/collapsible]]
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**Tale 9:**


[[collapsible show="+ Olivia Xasthur, Thaumaturgy and Anthropology Researcher" hide="- By Xasthur"]]

//6:44 AM//
It took several alarms to wake Olivia. Maybe it was the late nights. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her. If you didn’t go outside often, it was easy to lose track of time. Days spent buried in archives and research would drive anyone crazy. Another day, another ritual she would need to dive into. Ah, that was hours away. Time to get up and get the probably already stale coffee.

//7:20 AM//
Coffee. Acquired. Finally some semblance of sanity and OF COURSE IT’S ALREADY COLD. Xasthur knew to expect it by now. This is what she gets for taking too long to get out of bed. She hadn’t been at Facility-23 long, only a few months at least. She’d met most of the on-site team. Good people. Not much one for words, she moved onto one of the break room tables, cold coffee in one hand, a religious text in the other. She just couldn’t resist looking into them, something about learning what people believe in was intoxicating to her. Unfortunately, it meant she missed conversations she probably should be paying attention to. Her shift started at 10 AM. Surely the coffee would be hot again later, right?

//8:02 AM//
Xasthur began her workday, with a quartet of religious texts on one side of the desk, and a pile of doctrine and tests on the other.

//11:10 AM//
It was rare for a breakthrough this good. It might’ve been small, but the more the Foundation learns about any religious GoI, the better. Xasthur felt good. Still probably shouldn’t order too much food though, a lot still has to be done, plus sending off that request to test SCP-914 with some mechanical components. A heavy serving of an Irish stew was her lunch for the day, something new. Xasthur savored her food, a small reward for her small victory.

//12:57 PM//
With all this paperwork, you could confuse Xasthur for a Site Director. Most of it was test reports or articles sent to her to review and contribute to as the site anthropologist. While a large amount of it is rather dull, it still needs to be done, and she may as well get it done right so it doesn’t end up back in her pile. Xasthur spent hours scanning through, placing the necessary redactions, and revising, if not rewriting the reports. If only the system wasn’t slowing down every so often. With every frozen screen, she got more impatient. Swearing under her breath, Xasthur kept pressing the keys.

//1:51 PM//
GOD! FUCKING! DAMMIT! WORK! YOU! PIECE! OF! SHIT! This day was rapidly becoming a recreation of Icarus. Why wasn’t the redaction going through? Why was it taking so long to do such a simple process? Why was she hitting the computer instead of looking at it logically? She never understood the more technical side of computers, let alone how to build them, fix them, or how they actually worked. That was… Beauvillier’s department, that’s right. Composing herself, with a few extra heavy breaths to boot, Xasthur rose from her desk. Maybe the walk to the IT department might cool her frustrated blood. How can a day go from an amazing moment of successful research and reports to a tech issue that stopped her from working nearly as efficiently? It was a small while before Xasthur knocked on the office door. Maybe Beauvillier wouldn’t try and kill her…

//3:03 PM//
Buried in her work, Xasthur almost didn't see MacLean walk into the archives. She'd been laser-focused on finding a manuscript to try and translate, bumping into the man was bound to happen. MacLean practically lived in the archive room, probably more than any of the other researchers, and yet he was still easy to miss. He was only dropping off some of his blueprints to be digitized later. Xasthur didn't care to look into them; containment was hardly her area of expertise, nor did she have the clearance to see some of the procedures set in place for some of the other SCPs MacLean probably worked with. After a short conversation, the two of them sorting out the poorly stacked piles of articles, a set of really worn documents, and her computer back in front of her, Xasthur continued her translation and report. Now if only the screen would stop freezing for 5 minutes…

//4:30 PM//
Making her way to the mess hall one more time for the day, Xasthur ordered her final big meal for the day. Even though Beauvillier gave her plenty of words regarding computer etiquette, how to be patient with technology and not beat the hell out of it, plus a few well-placed French complaints, Xasthur was just glad the day was over with. No more books, no more articles, just her, a plate full of questionably good food, and her colleagues annoying her with their constant discussion over tests. Sometimes, it pays off to have a laugh after a tough day.

//7:09 PM//
With the workday finished, and her computer repaired, Xasthur could relax. Break away from her small obsession and mountain of paperwork. And the sigils she tested. And the D-Class who’d gotten himself hurt messing with the smaller tiles 914 threw out. She couldn’t bear to see another book after everything. Instead, she put on her headphones and listened to some of her choice music. Usually, it was something heavy, but today Paramore was the pick. Maybe a small silly dance to go along with it. Looking Up, a great song and the perfect earworm.

//10:33 PM//
Olivia lay in her bed, ready to sleep and repeat the cycle. Maybe another small victory was on the books. Maybe a misstep she would have to work around. Closing her eyes, all that was heard after was her snoring.

//Bring me that horizon, the only good thing a god has brought. - Xasthur//

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**Tale 10:**

[[collapsible show="+ Samantha Szymons, Eta-10 Sergeant" hide="- By Szymons"]]

//11:30 AM//
Each morning was a rough and rude awakening depending on which part of his rotation Samantha was on. Typically security staff would be put on half day shifts, 12 on and 12 off. This week Sam was lucky to score the day shift. He threw his alarm clock into the wall and did his best to prepare in time. The most time-consuming part of it all was rearranging his vest, his restless nature demanding a slightly different layout every day. Once he escaped his vicious cycle of preparation, he was off to prowl the hallways with the rest of the security team, and under the watchful eye of Sedna.

//12:25 PM//
Though he wasn’t often assigned to Facility 23 anymore, Samantha used the little sway he had to be rotated into its security attachment. He couldn’t stay away, there were too many weapons to be tested. The majority of his day was spent fulfilling typical security tasks, patrols, audits, and maintaining the checkpoints around the facility, sneaking a smoke wherever he could. Starting so late in the day he misses the early birds, but always waits on his patrols near Boneka’s office, for the off chance he could catch her on her way to the testing chambers.

//2:00 PM//
It’s ironic to be in an authority position with as flippant an attitude as Sam. He wasn’t scared to show his affection in the breakroom. These were the few moments he got with his wife. The repeated assignments and reassignments had been testing his patience, being away for so long he had to make the most of this time.

//2:30 PM//
With the break over, and a “subtle” nod from Sedna to return to his duties, Samantha had to return to patrols. He greeted as many researchers as he could on his way through the halls, lots of new faces and too little time to learn all of them. He’d end up regretting passing up the opportunity to make new friends as his shift would progress rather rapidly.

//2:35 PM//
Using his Foundation-trained “persuasion tactics” and quick wit he had managed to nab a priceless piece of history in the form of a tankette to feed it to the machine. Boneka seemed particularly vexed at this repeat antic, teasing him as she got to work sterilizing the input. To compensate for being a little shit he did stay around to assist with the process, only to return in the hours after to deal with its result.

//3:27 PM//
While waiting for his output to process, Sam busied himself in the armory. He was extremely annal about his weapons, and what specific processes to maintain them were used. It was to the point where the quartermaster would let him maintain his weapons himself, often resigning to the other members of the teams for solace after a run-in with the MTF agent. Today was better, Samantha had only corrected the quartermaster twice.

//4:35 PM//
Horses. There were a lot of Polish horses in the testing chamber. They were dealt with, and a hefty ass-chewing was delivered by his sister. The incinerator has never been so full.

//6:00 PM//
After a short run-in with Researcher Allen, Samantha had decided to bring her with him to test out some of the new rifles, mostly Glocks and some of his personal favorites. The weapon choice was much to Allen’s chagrin, as Sam stood back and needled her about her struggles with them. He didn’t know how someone could mess up the easiest handguns to handle and fire.

//7:30 PM//
Knowing that the work day was winding down, he’d nod as many times as he could to these new friends and make it back to the security armory. Here he would dress down and return to a more laid-back “garrison” setup, still suitable to protect against humanoid threats. Finally more comfortable, he would continue a lighter patrol.

//9:30 PM//
When it gets late, a portion of the security shift gathers in the breakroom and busts out various board games and tabletops. The nerdier of the bunch, which was most of them, would play the latter. Samantha had brought out his own tonight, a night most of them were dreading because of how much he talked about it. The rest of his shift would be a quick two-and-a-half-hour game of Scythe by Stonemeier Games.

//12:00 AM//
Finally, after many insults and multiple destroyed mechs, Samantha heard the timer on his watch go off. The end of his shift was the end of the game, a winner not yet decided. He took a few notes on everyone’s positions and packed up the game. He wished everyone good luck for next week’s game and would finally clock out of his shift. His bed seemed extra comfortable this part of the night.

//lorem ipsum - Szymons//
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**Tale 11:**

[[collapsible show="+ Boneka, Microbiologist" hide="- By Bonboneka"]]

//6:00 AM//
Boneka was the type of person who liked to set her morning alarm extra early so she could hit the snooze button like twenty times before she had to get up.

//6:50 AM//
Today she managed to drag herself out of bed after about five snoozes, an unusually low number for her. Today would be special; Boneka had been keeping track of the security rotation and counting down the days. She got dressed and tied up her hair into its signature buns, then it was off to the cafeteria for breakfast.

//7:20 AM//
It looked like Carpenter was camping the coffee station again. Boneka's most distinct memory of him was when he was first assigned to Facility-23, in which he had a mental breakdown when he found out the cafeteria only stocked Mrs. Butterworth-brand maple syrup. Sgt. Szymons had to physically hold back the usually otherwise placid Carpenter as he ranted and raved like a lunatic about what constituted "real maple syrup" and that it "definitely wasn't that". While his insistence on the matter was quite extreme, Boneka thought he had a point. Real maple syrup was nothing like the viscous, fructose-laden stuff that most grocery stores carried. The higher-ups did not seem to care about this nearly as much as either of them, though, and from that point forward, he had made a point of bringing his syrup. She waved to him casually as she went to prepare her coffee, which consisted of more creamer than actual coffee.

//8:00 AM//
Being a microbiologist who specialized in food and food-related pathogens, Boneka wasn't sure for the longest time as to why her Foundation career included an extended tenure with SCP-914, an anomaly with which microbes and most foods were virtually forbidden from testing. As time passed, it turned out that her knowledge came in handy in many cases, as she would be reminded of as she went about her work for the day.
In addition to the various systems in place to ensure that airborne microorganisms wouldn't contaminate SCP-914's test chamber, every input was also sterilized before testing. As well as being a researcher herself, part of Boneka's job was to oversee the sterilization process for input objects. A room directly adjacent to SCP-914's test chamber served as the area where this was done and included various equipment for this purpose. Depending on what was being tested, different sterilization methods were available, including an autoclave, an ethylene oxide chamber, and other chemical applicants. The work required Boneka to arrive early since other researchers would need to get their inputs back in time to test with them, and depending on the method, things could take hours to sterilize properly. The roster for today was fairly short and included some paper shredders for Ibarazaki, a scarf for Lacte, and something she didn't recognize from Sgt. Szymons that wasn't due to arrive until later that day along with Szymons himself; it included letters and numbers so she figured it was probably just some sort of gun model. No biggie, she thought. For now, she would take care of the paper shredders since they would be compatible with the ethylene oxide sterilizer, and the scarf would be fine going in the autoclave. Once the machines were cycling, they should be ready by the time the researchers were scheduled to perform their tests.

//10:00 AM//
Boneka’s work was interrupted by some commotion from the main chamber. The muffled screaming on the other side of the wall sounded vaguely French. She decided not to interfere.

//12:35 PM//
After removing her protective equipment and exiting 109-B's airlock, Boneka was free to go on her lunch break, but an important thing was in order first. She skipped down the hallways until she ran into someone in MTF garb; his somewhat shorter stature made him stand out from other agents, even when in full uniform. Boneka squealed with delight as she practically jumped into Sgt. Samantha Szymons' arms and pressed a kiss against his mask. Not having him around at the facility permanently anymore had proved to be a challenge for her, but he made every effort he could to get assigned to 19-23 as often as he could, and it made all their time together more precious. Even now it would be fleeting, as Szymons had to continue with his patrol, but he would make a promise to see her again later.

//12:45 PM//
The cafeteria food bothered her. From one of the most powerful secret organizations in the world, you would have expected a tier or two above high school cafeteria fare. Boneka had half a mind to request a position change so she could work in the kitchen and show them how real food was made, but she wasn’t willing to take the pay dock for it. For now, she idly mulled over the options on the lunch line, lost in thought until she saw something that snapped her mind to attention: one of the trainees in the back was loading a sheet tray full of hamburger patties onto a roll-in rack, directly under another sheet tray that was holding raw chicken.

//1:30 PM//
Researcher Boneka was informed that the kitchen staff would receive retraining as necessary, but she was best advised not to jump the counter to stop health infractions in the future. That poor line cook probably had the proper order of fridge storage seared directly into his eardrums now, at least.

//2:00 PM//
The break room was empty except for Boneka and Samantha. At least, it was empty just long enough for Boneka to forget that they were still, in fact, in the break room, which was generally not an appropriate place for two people to be snogging on a company-owned sofa, but, well… love can compel you to make odd decisions sometimes. She didn't think anything of it until some footsteps shuffled in through the doorway.

"…Oh hi Maccie!" Boneka peeled herself off of her partner to greet the Containment Specialist, but it looked like he was already hurriedly on his way out, along with Dr. Marlon who had a much less noticeable footfall. Darn. She looked back at Samantha, who just regarded her with a shrug and his signature smirk. He didn't seem to care.
"I guess we should get out of here…" She finally stood up, looking sheepish. In any case, his requested object would soon be ready to sterilize.

//2:35 PM//
Boneka was standing in the sterilization chamber; her arms were crossed and her brow was furrowed. For several moments, only the troubled tapping of her shoe against the tile could be heard. Across from her stood one Sgt. Samantha Szymons, looking not at all apologetic. The source of her irritation—and the source of his smugness—was hard to miss, as the TKS/20 Tankette mounted on the pallet situated in between them took up a good portion of the room.

"You're lucky you're so cute because if you weren't, I'd throttle you for this." Boneka hissed as she reached over and squeezed his cheeks with her hands. This giant hunk of dirt-covered scrap metal, she could tell, was going to be a doozy to work with. The EO sterilizer was designed with the same dimensions as the input booth, so the tankette would fit, but only in an extremely awkward configuration that would require additional help and equipment to get into. Plus it was probably coated to hell and back in all sorts of germs from its service time, so it would require an overnight cycle… possibly longer. Hopefully, there wouldn't be anyone requesting a metric fuckton of testing material that would result in a backlog and make her life a living hell.

//4:45 PM//
Boneka ran into MacLean again as he was getting ready to leave for the day. He acknowledged her with an awkward gesture, likely a sentiment from what he witnessed earlier that day. She just laughed it off. He was one of the few mainstays that commuted instead of living on-site due to his familial obligations. She had heard plenty about his kids, his pride and joy despite the handful they could be. She did wish to meet them herself, but it would be a long while before they’d be ready to learn about the Foundation, if ever. For now, she waved MacLean off as he left for the other side of the veil.

//5:00 PM//
Everyone’s schedule was different here at the Foundation depending on what kind of job they did. Fortunately, Boneka’s was fairly reasonable, and ending the day at 5 left her with plenty of time to unwind after work. One thing she enjoyed doing was drawing, so once she was comfortable in her room again, she settled down, picked up her tablet, and let the creative juices flow.

… or… she would, if she could find her tablet pen.

//5:15 PM//
God damn. Scouring an entire facility and retracing her steps for a lost stylus was not an ideal way to unwind after work. It wasn’t even a particularly big facility, but it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Despite her efforts, Boneka’s search came up fruitless. The despair knotted itself into her stomach, and she was about to go back and call it quits before she remembered they had a solution. With a little hope in her heart, she would find Director Hackett so she could submit a usage request for [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6369 SCP-6369].

//5:30 PM//
Boneka watched as Site Security opened the door to allow the SCP-6369-A instances in. The way they rode in on their Roombas reminded her of the floats in a parade. About twenty of them arrived in the lobby and dismounted to begin the facility-wide search. Among them was SCP-6369-B, who directed the other instances as they combed through the rooms Boneka had been in that day. She just observed as they worked; she was shortly joined by her good friend Evangeline Perry, who probably came out when she noticed SCP-6369-B wasn’t in its cage. Perry, or Angie as most people called her, was on indefinite janitorial duty due to an unfortunate incident a while ago, but she didn’t seem to mind much, as she was content with caring for her rats and not worrying about 914.

//6:24 PM//
Boneka sighed with relief when SCP-6369-A brought her the tablet pen, safe and sound. Apparently, it was buried in the couch she was sitting on with Szymons… whoops. She provided them with some apple slices (remembering to have taken the peels off as well), which were distributed amongst the instances with a level of efficiency that would impress many Foundation higher-ups. Once they had their fill, Boneka and Angie would wave them goodbye, and she could finally relax again.

//8:00 PM//
Boneka happened to meet Resident Ibarazaki in the break room after spending some time on her tablet. She asked her about how her test with the paper shredders went, and couldn’t help but chuckle when Emi sheepishly explained the aftermath involving Director Query. Her being worried was understandable, since she was new here, but as far as Boneka was concerned, it was far from the worst thing that could have happened. With 914 being as unpredictable as it was, sometimes you just couldn’t control what an output was going to do. As long as it’s not an accident that happened out of preventable negligence, you’d get off with a slap on the wrist. And anyway, Query seemed to be much less neurotic than Veritas was. Hopefully, that would have eased some of Ibarazaki’s misgivings; Boneka didn’t want her to become jaded too quickly after all. The Foundation had enough jaded people already.

//10:00 PM//
Boneka sunk back into her bed with a sigh. As she began to drift off, she thought about all the people she encountered that day; it was fascinating how this facility, designed only to contain SCP-914, could end up being inhabited by so many colorful personalities and careers. Some came and went, while others forged lasting bonds under the looming machinery of the Clockworks. Everyone played a part in the greater mission of the Foundation, almost as if they were all cogs in their machine.

//Maybe the real 914-E was the friends we made along the way. - Boneka//

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