My Christmas Alone

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|name= DrBandana]]
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##44CC44|__Friday, Dec 22nd__##
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I tried to ignore the cheesy Christmas tunes blaring out from the intercoms, but to no avail. It had already brought back a surge of melancholy childhood memories. Annoyed, I brisk walked down the hall and towards the facility's atrium. This was so much different from the years past where they kept the holiday stuff to a bare minimum. Who was the nutcase who decided that this was the year they wanted to go "all out"?

In the front lobby, a dozen or so fir trees were positioned evenly through the room, each one decorated with red and green ornaments, socks, candy canes, stars, and wood-carved angels. Handmade paper snowflakes hung from the walls, and a life-sized Santa figurine stood before the front desk.

More researchers than I could be bothered to count were wearing Santa hats, fake antlers, or elf ears. The sound of bells jiggling could be heard from multiple directions. People all around were chatting and smiling, probably discussing their holiday plans.

But me? I didn't linger. I was headed towards the exit and rolling my eyes at the reindeer-patterned carpet bellow me, when I heard a familiar voice at my side.

"Evening, Erika."

I looked to my right, it was Merriam who had managed to catch up to my pace. We weren't super close, but we did know each other for quite some time. The both of attended the same three-month training course during our initial induction into the foundation. That was almost five years ago now.

Being caught up in my own inner ramblings, I wasn't in the particular mood for small talk. Still, I mustered a half-assed smile.

"Hey, long time no-see, how's it going?"

"Good. Just saw you leaving and thought I'd wish you merry Christmas and a nice week off."

"Oh, actually, I will be at work all of next week?"

"Really?"

"I mean, someone's gotta keep the lights on, after all."

"Yeah, I could understand that being the case for, like, members of the mobile task force, or people working with keter classes, but most researchers are supposed to get Christmas and New Years off. It's a shame they're making you come."

"It's actually the other way around. I specifically requested to come in during the holiday."

We reached the curtain walls, and I pressed a nearby button. A light breeze blew past us as the door opened.

"If you don't mind me being a bit noisy, is there a reason? Does this have something to do your family troubles?" she said.

We both stepped outside. The air was cool, but not very cold this year. Not a hint of snow to be found.

"Well sort of," I signed, "my family doesn't do Christmas. In fact, they don't do any holidays at all. It's part of their religion... Jehovah's Witness."

"Oh yeah," she said, "I remember you saying they were Witnesses a while back. So, I guess they don't do New Years either?"

I shook my head, "Nope."

"Easter?"

"They consider that to be rooted in Pagan tradition, since the Bible doesn't specify Jesus being resurrected on that day."

"Okay, but what about something simple, like Valentine's Day? They're probably cool with that, right?"

"Not at all. It's derivative of Lupercalia and is associated with what they consider false gods."

"And Halloween?"

"Never. You would get excommunicated before you could even say, 'trick or treat'."

"Uh... Fourth of July?"

"Still no, lol. Patriotism is tantamount to idolatry."

"Sheesh. How about Thanksgiving? Who would find fault with that?"

"Still rooted in non-Christian harvest festivals."

Merriam seemed to become increasingly confounded, and I don't blame her, the rules were quite extensive. And that was just the rules for holidays.

"Mother's day? Father's day?"

"Those traditions are believed to stem from parental and ancestral worship. Which is also big no-no for them."

"Dang. Is there even //one// holiday they do celebrate?"

I furrowed my brow in deep thought. That was a tough question.

"Well..." I shrugged, "I don't think they have a problem with Labor Day. But I also don't really remember doing anything on those days either."

"So does your family ever get together apart from holidays?"

"Maybe? Probably? I wouldn't really know anyway. Since leaving the religion I have become a black sheep. They keep a considerable distance from ex-members. Renouncing your faith is a personal betrayal."

"That's rough, sorry you have to deal with that."

"Well... on the plus side, it means I don't have to make elaborate cover ups about the nature of my work," I had thought the quip was kind of funny, but she didn't seem to laugh.

Instead, there was a brief pause, she tilted her dead down a moment before looking back up to meet my gaze.

"Maybe you could come celebrate with my family this year!"

"That sounds like fun, and I appreciate the offer, but I never met your family before. I'd hate to make things awkward for them."

"That's understandable. Well then, suppose I'll see you next year."

We hugged goodbye, before parting to sperate ends of the parking lot.

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##44CC44|__Monday, Dec 25th__##
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There were plenty of good reasons to come in on Christmas day. For one, the new anomaly I was studying was pretty cool, and I would not be able to handle the suspense of waiting until after the Holidays to get back to my studies.

Secondly, Christmas nothing but a bunch of hokey nonsense and we ought to stop lying to kids. Santa Claus isn't real, and on the off chance he is real, it's apparently above my clearance level. In the end, the day is just an excuse for corporations to try cash out on the shared nostalgia of society by marketing their hackneyed products. And if that wasn't bad enough, they make it all seem like it's perfectly wholesome, lulling kids and adults alike with their saccharine music and oversaturated color palettes.

But cynicism aside... if I am really being honest here, I just wanted... I needed something to do. Something to take my mind off of the loneliness of spending another holiday season alone, you know?

Arriving inside, the main lobby was empty, not a soul to be seen. Now, the foundation operates 24/7/365, so obviously there were still people somewhere, just not where I was. Thankfully, none of the silly music was playing. Instead, it was so quiet you could almost hear the dust whisper in your ear. Nothing like the normal hustle and bustle.

While I had always enjoyed silence, in the context of this particular building, it was off-putting, and perhaps bone-chilling. At least there was the //illusion// of safety in numbers. But here, alone? The building felt eerie, haunted almost. It was the same feeling as being alone in a warehouse, afterhours. The big difference here of course was the fact that my fears were at least somewhat rational.

Still, the benefits outweighed any possible risks, for me. After all, no great scientist, or explorer, or pioneer, or inventor ever made great discoveries because they played things safe. This is the new frontier, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm not missing it for a few days of vacation.

I tapped my key card on the control panel. A green checkmark flashed on the screen and the door slid open. As if by second nature, I quickly kicked off my shoes, spat out my gum, and tied my curly hair into a ponytail before grabbing one of the yellow hazmat suits from the rack. After minutes of meticulously securing the gear, I entered the testing chamber.

When I went to remove several of the totes from the shelves, some of them were a few kilos heavier than I remembered, meaning they have definitely increased in //mass// since last Friday. Something that should, by all means be "impossible" — a word that everyone working here should probably expunge from their vocab at this point.

I removed the lid off the tote labeled "TEST A" and took out a large maplewood log for examination. There were several dozen clumps of cells growing from the crevices of tree's bark. And they were beginning to somewhat resemble human ears. Perfectly in line with what was written in the discovery reports. I then wondered if they could hear me moving around and talking to myself.

This particular anomaly didn't have a proper number designation yet, having been discovered a mere two weeks ago. I sometimes wondered why it took them so long to assign numbers. Apparently, there's more to it than simply pounding a big rubber stamp on a document and calling it a day. The item numbers do not follow in order of discovery, nor do they seem to be completely arbitrary. There seems to be some cryptic, perhaps even occultic, meaning behind the assignments, at least in some cases. But there's almost no point trying to decode it though. Just another secret that I'm not in on. So, for the time being, my coworkers and me have settled on calling them "fun guys"... lame I know.

After five long and hard years, I still found myself dumbfounded that some of these things really existed, and that I was no closer to understanding the logic behind them. They simply are what they are. I took this path in life after giving up on all religions, including the I was born in. But I wasn't content with being just "agnostic" or something. I decided that all I wanted was truth, and nothing but the truth. I had to dive deeper in hopes of finding something capable of satiating the existential questions constantly gnawing away at my psyche.

It's a story for another day, but I did manage to discover the anomalous, now whether that was by my own accord or by pure coincidence, I don't know. But soon thereafter I found the Foundation. Or rather, the Foundation found me. During my first year here (even as a lowly level 1 assistant), I felt like I was really "in the know". But oh boy, how wrong I was! Because the more documents I read, the more and more I realize that I haven't even begun to scratch the surface. I don't think anyone here really has, to be honest. And unlike the holy saints, and the over-dressed clergymen, and the self-righteous priests I cannot, in good conscience, claim to know the absolute truth. I'm not so naive as to think one holy book could answer every question I would need to know about existence. And I won't repeat that same mistake by becoming to overly fixated on particular SCP database entries, like many of my collogues have done already.

But hey, for all I know the Bible thumpers are right, Clef's Proposal isn't just an elaborate hoax by the council, and fire and brim stone will rain down on me during Armageddon any day now. If that's the case, so be it. I've honestly made peace with whatever happens.

After finishing filling out a few of the experiment files, I go to open another tote, this one labeled "TEST E". Inside was a small bale of hay, which had been incubated with the same anomalous spores. The fruiting bodies looked like button mushrooms; except, they were each about the size of my hand. All were otherwise non-descript, except the one in the middle, which has developed a mouth and two black dots at the top. The thing reminded me of the power-ups from Super Mario bros.

When I examined it through a magnifying glass, it started to coo like a toddler.

"Are yoooooou my mama?" the mushroom suddenly asked, in a high-pitched, shrill voice.

I laughed, "Hey there little guy, it seems you've learned to speak much quicker than the others. I'm one of your researchers. Ahem, the head researcher, actually. That means I will be writing your profile."

"Pro... file?" it sounded like a curious child.

"Yes, profile."

There were three knocks on the door. The sound of a woman's voice muffled by radio static emanated from the walkie talkie on the desk, "Hey, this is Agent Adams with Mobile Task Force. We have a delivery from management."

Fiddling around with the lab equipment, I busily reply, "Uh, just leave it on the table."

"Actually, the order was for us hand it directly to the doctor. "

"Shoot..." I mumbled, "Alright, be out in a minute."

"No rush. Today's a slow day anyway."

After saying goodnight to my (apparent) newborn child, I carefully placed all the totes back in their places. I then entered the sterilizing chamber, and two pumps sprayed me up and down with peroxide. A fan blew warm air, and the second door opened shortly after. Overwatch was serious about not risking these spores spreading.

Just outside the chamber was Adams siting at the table, sipping some coffee. A yellow envelope and a tablet lay next to her. I took off my mask and gloves and picked up the letter. "Classified" is stamped at the top in bold red letters.

"Any idea what its about?" I asked.

"If I actually knew I would be in hot water," she jested, "But whatever it is, it's from the Director, so it has to be important."

"Odd day to be getting a notice directly from the Director."

"It was supposed to get to you last week, but we got a little busy, with all the people trying to take vacation time."

Adams then had me do this digital signature with my fingerprints on a tablet, and then she was on her way, leaving me to once again marinate in my own thoughts.

Now the Director herself usually only contacted people when something was seriously wrong. Meaning you were in trouble, and mean I BIG trouble. As I peeled the flap open, drops sweat rolled down my head. I hesitated.

But I noticed that the envelope was unusually heavy and thick, like there was a magazine inside. Disciplinary notices were usually short, maybe 1 page. This realization eased my apprehension by a considerable margin.

[[collapsible show="Open Letter? ✉️" hide="📜"]]

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To Dr. Erika Bandana,

Regarding your past application to Director Moose's program, we have determined your credentials and employment history are satisfactory; and thus, you have been selected to attend our [[[another-goddamn-magic-system|Magic Orientation]]] for the rare opportunity to become a thaumaturge on behalf of the Foundation.

We please ask that you familiarize yourself with the educational contents issued in this folder. All information provided to be considered "need to know basis" classified and should not be shared without explicit approval.

Orientation is to be held Jan 10th 9AM-5PM. Classes and training are then to start soon thereafter. We look forward to your attendance.

Best regards,

Director Tilda Moose

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[[/collapsible]]

Ah yes, how could I have forgotten! It was over two years ago that I had sent the application. Pretty sure I threw it in the drop box on the day of the deadline. From what I remember, the cover letter sucked, and there was no way I passed the 20-question quiz. After a few months, I figured I had probably been rejected.

So why did they choose me out of what must've been hundreds, if not thousands? What potential did I have? After all, this program wasn't something that just //anyone// could get into. No, this was highly sought after, much like being a Park Ranger. But now was not a time to be befuddled. There were questions to answer. Truths to unveil.

Under the letter was a packet that looked to be a least 50 pages. Skimming through the table of the contents, several titles popped out, "Type Blues", "The Basics of Thaumatology", "Finding Your Affinity."

With such lucky timing, I couldn't help but wonder if Santa Claus himself had arranged for this letter to arrive today. Eh... probably not. But in a way, I guess could consider this my first ever Christmas gift.

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++++ //To be continued...//
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My Christmas Alone

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