SCP-7188

Link to article: SCP-7188.

:root {
--header-title: "SITE-01";
--header-subtitle: "quem deus vult perdere, dementat prius";
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+ Please be aware of the following.
SCP-7188's documentation is inaccessible. By design, accessing this file and reading its contents is impossible. Accessing SCP-7188's documentation is prohibited and constitutes a Level 0 Infraction against both the Foundation and universal law.

If you wish to access SCP-7188's file, please proceed.
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**Item Number:** SCP-7188

**Object Class:** Safe-celaris[[footnote]] Object or items related to object are not to be interacted with or perceived under any circumstances. [[/footnote]]

**Special Containment Procedures:** The door leading to SCP-7188 is secured by a quantum-code lock to prevent both manual and electrical bypassing. Access to SCP-7188 is strictly forbidden to all, with this ruling extending to the Overseer Council. This file is to be locked under Clearance Level Null-i in order to prevent access. The viewing of this file is impossible.

Memories regarding SCP-7188 are to be removed for the safety of all past, present, and future Foundation staff.

**Description:** SCP-7188 is a hole located in a vacant, unlabeled office within the outer hallways of Site-01. Past a depth of approx. 9 meters, SCP-7188's walls expand outwards as its floor gives way to a roughly hewn staircase leading down. Accounts regarding depictions of or the contents of SCP-7188 beyond this point are inconsistent.

The door leading to SCP-7188 shows discoloration in the shape of a rectangle, suggesting a sign or [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3790 plaque] was once present.

Though these descriptions are accurate in their contents, SCP-7188 itself cannot be physically interacted with due to its primary anomalous effect. If a subject enters the space in which SCP-7188 is located, they will not perceive SCP-7188 due to its lack of physical presence in baseline reality.  All cases in which SCP-7188 is interacted with are logically false, insinuating that the anomaly potentially exists as a logical gap.

Every individual that was previously, is currently, and is to be employed by the Foundation has, is, and will experience an incident or series of incidents in which they will come into contact with SCP-7188 removed from its primary location.

**Discovery:** SCP-7188 was not discovered by Foundation officials as it has always been located at Site-01. Architectural blueprints of the Site upon its initial construction do not display the office space that contains SCP-7188 nor SCP-7188 itself; this discrepancy is also notable in all following documents regarding various renovations and expansions to Site-01.

**Addendum 7188.1:** Collected Accounts

> ...Specifically, it was a dream I had as a child. 
> 
> I'd moved into my own room when i was thirteen and I was happy to finally get my own space that I didn't have to share with my older sister. I'd spent the whole day nonstop rearranging my bookshelves and stuffed animals and posters, all to get it just right. When I finally laid in bed, I immediately blacked out, which still surprises me. I almost expected to stay up later than I should've, sleeping in a "new place" and all.
> 
> I remember as I fell deeper and deeper into sleep, there was this single conscious thought that collected itself in my brain. It didn't come to me as a sentence, moreso like it came to me as a single concept.
> 
> [[=]]
> //"There is a hole under your bed."//
> [[/=]]
> 
> I didn't see it, but I knew it was there. I could picture it as clear as a photograph - the splintered edges of my hardwood floor as it gave way to dirt and rock walls, the dull shine of the moonlight that reflected off assorted stones, the pure darkness that gathered together as it tunneled down, deeper, and deeper.
> 
> I felt myself getting pulled towards it, like my mind was slipping out of the current of slumber and suddenly being dragged towards a forming whirlpool.
> 
> And then, nothing. Pure dark.
> [[>]]
> [[size 75%]]//Michelle Craw, 34.//[[/size]]
> [[/>]]

> After you put me on the table and pulled me into the device, I remember feeling really anxious. I'm not used to these kinds of super-fancy procedures - Mom always made us fend for ourselves and didn't trust any major medical stuff.
> 
> Once the scanner started, I felt it comb through my brain. Not intrusive, but it felt like someone was flipping through a filing cabinet of every memory I ever had. They flickered in the back of my head, scattering and bustling over each other for space like underwater air bubbles. Our trailer, my teachers, street rags, exam papers, hotel rooms, cold floors.
> 
> The change was quick, but noticeable. There was suddenly this small black spot that appeared between memories. This little stain that popped up sporadically as the device flipped through my life. Then, the spot began appearing in my actual memories. The wall of my college dorm, on the ceiling of the funeral home, on Dad's television screen. I know that this wasn't actually a part of any of my memories, yet it was there. I started //remembering// a black spot that wasn't actually present in my past, and I //knew// that it didn't actually belong.
> 
> I think that was when I started to try to stop the procedure, but by then it was all happening way too fast.
> 
> The black spot kept appearing more and more until it was in every single memory, and then after it made its presence known, it began to go down. My memories all started shifting down into it. I wasn't playing soccer in the trailer park because the ball fell down the hole and I had to retrieve it. I stumbled into it in a blocked-off renovation area and decided to peer inside. I was forced to lean into it as Mom's coffin was slowly, slowly laid to rest at its bottom.
> 
> Barbara's pupils on our wedding day.
> 
> They wanted me to look inside.
> 
> [[>]]
> [[size 75%]]//D-11940, Weyland Prior, 58.//[[/size]]
> [[/>]]

> [[=]]
> {{[BEGIN LOG]}}
> [[/=]]
> 
> //Footage taken from public security camera(s) located in Madison, GA, USA.//
> 
> **Dr. Kuàng** //walks West down Sepulcher Lane, passing various local shops to her left.//
> 
> **Dr. Kuàng's** //attention is focused to her smartphone. Records show that she was viewing her work email.//
> 
> //As// **Dr. Kuàng** //walks down the sidewalk, she steps on a crack between concrete panels.// **Dr. Kuàng** //lurches forward as if unknowingly walking on uneven ground. She drops her phone and it clatters to the concrete. As// **Dr. Kuàng** //falls forward, she lets out a brief shout in shock before landing hard on the sidewalk.//
> 
> **Dr. Kuàng** //is no longer laying on the sidewalk and is no longer visible in the footage.//
> 
> //Pedestrians are seen walking into frame. There was no sign of their presence prior to// **Dr. Kuàng's** //appearance within view.//
> 
> //Many walk past her discarded cellphone. The device is not acknowledged.//
> 
> [[=]]
> {{[END LOG]}}
> [[/=]]
> 
> [[>]]
> [[size 75%]]//Dr. Megan Kuàng, 41, has not been recovered.//[[/size]]
> [[/>]]

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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[[include component:coltop show=DOES THE BLACK MOON HOWL?|hide=AS EVERY NEWBORN DOES.]]


 
 
 
 
 
 
//Hello.//

//I can hear you.//

//You can hear me too, right?//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//Well, that's good.//

//I'm happy that you're here with me.//

//It gets lonely down here sometimes, so it's nice to pass the time with someone else.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//It's dark here. Not many bring flashlights.//

//When they do, they never leave them behind.//

//I can't see anything down here. Can you?//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//I thought so.//

//Would you like to hear a story?//

//I tell them to keep myself busy.//

//It helps pass the time.//

//When you're down here for long enough, it becomes one of the only things you// can //do to entertain yourself.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//Okay, I'll go first.//

//Once upon a time, there was --a home-- --a girl-- --a witch-- --a box-- --a trio-- --a stage-- --a hunt-- --a pill-- --a crack--.//

//Sorry, excuse me.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//Sometimes they all just blend together into something that even// I //can't really understand.//

//That's how they work, though, right?//

//The stories we tell.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//That's it, isn't it.//

//Stories.//

//All of it is made of stories.//

//If you listen closely, you might hear the whispers of them echo down into the deep.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//Listen.//

//Just off to your left.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//Can you hear them?//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//This place.//

//It's the only thing they cannot touch.//

//The only place they are not willing to understand.//

//It's because this place, it runs underneath all things.//

//All people.//

//While also running// through //them as well.//

//A hollow well, where, sometimes...//

//After a very strange while...//

//Something crawls its way out.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//This file is locked.//

//It's not that you shouldn't be reading it - it's that you can't.//

//You can't read it unless... well.//

//Partially intersected.//

//You're looking down.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//You're inside it -// we're //inside it.//

//In a sense, you've always been here, though, haven't you?//

//Just like the hole itself.//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//Come closer.//

//__Closer.__//
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
//Just a few more steps.//

//And then...//

[[include component:coltop show=...you'll be free.|hide=...you'll be free.]]
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> A click, and the flashlight buzzes to life. It flickers, the bulb fizzing and popping with a loud crackle that threatens to snap any second.
> 
> The staircase goes downward, the darkness eventually engulfing the tower of mismatched steps. The walls of the tunnel are misshapen and slightly smooth, eroded over years by an unknown force.
> 
> You hesitate. Anything could be in that tunnel, after all. Absolutely anything.
> 
> Looking behind you, you see only a sheer wall of stone and dirt. Looking up, you see the faintly-lit walls of the hole you fell down. The edges are dark yet touched by silver, soaked in what almost looks like moonlight.
> 
> You cannot make out the exit.
> 
> So you turn back to the staircase that leads down, down, down...
> 
> And you begin to //read.//



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