A NOTICE TO ALL FOUNDATION PERSONNEL 09/12/2084

Hail to you all.

Due to the recent fall of the Hong Kong and the Continuation GOC, the Alliance's communications network has been irreparably compromised by the Other's forces. As a result, the use of all electronic devices for any communications purposes is ordered to immediately cease; communication must revert back to physical forms such as printed paper.

Some of you have expressed concerns over the feasibility, under this new system, of contacting our sites in Western Europe and the Americas, as well our Imperial allies. These individuals should remember that as long as we control the skies, we still have control of the means of communication. Letters to other Foundation sites and to the Empire should be sent through the proper channels; no exception or tolerance will be permitted for alternative methods.

We Shall Prevail.

-The Administrator.

A MESSAGE TO THE OVERSEER'S COUNCIL, DATED 20/04/2085

Hail to you all.

I know some of you are concerned with the recent events at Site 89. Be rest assured that there is no possibility of the Shah's forces taking the sites. Aside from upgrades to the Sharding Cannon implemented by Captain Afsaneh, the mirage continues to hold steady and the walls have not yet been breached. Events are continuing to go as well as expected.

I have been made aware of objections to the continued presence of the Apparatus at Site 89. Even if there was the slightest possibility of the Shah breaching that facility, I would remind you that we are still unable to break the protections left on it when theHorde buried it there, and thus cannot move it. I am perfectly aware of the catastrophe that would ensue if it was taken, but we simply have no other option, even if there was a more secure Site in existence, or any way remaining to safely transport it.

Tend to Europe and America, and leave Site 89 to me. We are the last facility capable of turning the tide in this war, and I intend to see that done. Focus on the continued military conversion, and on preventing the Shah or the True GOC from crossing the Rhine and the Rockies.

The True GOC's increasing dominance of the skies has led me to entrust this to Lieutenant Inari, in whom I have more faith in than anyone to deliver this safely. Please order her return immediately upon receipt of this message; I do not want her away from Site 89 for too long. This siege requires a constant supply of good men, and I can't afford to lose anyone.

We Shall Prevail.

-The Administrator.

Dear Martha,

It's been too long since I last saw you! I am so sorry I was not able to get there at the Trail's start, but I hope you managed to get to the north safely. I know, more than anyone, how hard it is to get away from the Foundation these days, but if anyone can do it then it's the Hand. The Library is probably the only safe place left where none of them can get their claws into you.

I have some news, but you must not tell a soul, in case the Administrator finds out: I should be with you soon! I won't tell you how- too much stuff that could be deadly if this falls into the wrong hands- but it's almost bizarre that nobody's thought of this way before. I feel bad about leaving the Foundation like this, but I've got to get out somehow. I don't know how much longer I'll laugh, and expecting others to care is a luxury in this place.

You might wonder why I don't just go home, when I tell you how I'm getting out. I do miss it. But things are more complicated than that. The stuff they put in my head changed the way I think- made me modern, made me unable to be what I once was. I can't go back to that world any more, and I can't see what it's like today- it's all been burnt in the war. And besides, I can hardly go without my dearest friend! It would be horrible to be permanently parted from you.

There's so much to update you on. I visited the Turkmen front recently- did you know it used to be called the ORIA instead of the ERIA? TheOrganisation for the Reclamation of Islamic Artifacts, rather than the Empire. You learn so much doing this, it's almost enough to make me want to stay. Studying the history of all these places is so necessary and so fascinating. And I made a new friend- a child in the hunger camps. I can't take him with me, sadly, but he's such a pleasant child. He made me a straw doll- God alone knows where get got the materials.

I know a letter like this is foolish, and unnecessary, and I can hear you berating me. But I need to get this stuff out. I still feel guilty, I really do, for leaving the Administrator. He needs us all, I know. There have to be more bodies for the wall, but 89's worse than ever. It's just frost, smoke and ice, all billowing upwards, and the weapons… there are still humans in the Shah's army, but they keep bombarding them with the worst of sins. The cannon that warp reality, the mirage that drives them mad, and those terrible iron walls, streaming blood from the constant fighting. They rise, up and up forever, only breaking for more weaponary to poke through. I don't know how much of the world's coal supply is stored beneath it, but it seems to keep going on forever.

I've enclosed a photograph of what the mirage looks like nowadays. It's quite ingenious- you can't even tell that there's anything there at all. They all know, of course, but by the time they've bypassed the deception alchemy they're too mad to put up too much of a fight. It's the only thing that's stopped us being completely overwhelmed by numbers, but it's not enough. I don't think this siege will ever end.

I'm going to be sending this from London, and I hope it manages to reach you. I'm being sent to deliver a note to the O5s, so I'll try to disappear there. With luck, I should be at the Library in a month or two. I hope it's not too crowded there. I hope you're OK. I hope a lot of things. I wish I could stay, I know what I'm doing is wrong, but I just can't stay on like this without losing everything. It's necessary, but I can't live as just another body.

I'm thinking of you.

Inari.

<Begin Log>

The video shows Dr. Kells office. It is after dark, and only a couple of small lamps, one on his desk and one on a nearby bookcase, provide light; the room is consequently dim and dark. Dr. Kells is writing a report at his desk.

After 19 seconds, an SCP-4989-A instance (hereafter referred to as 4989-A1) abruptly appears in front of Dr. Kells' desk. It stands facing Dr. Kells, who looks up with a start.

Dr. Kells: Wh- ah. I was wondering when one of you would turn up.

4989-A1 does not respond.

Dr. Kells: I imagine you've got people watching your precious Site 89. I imagine you have a whole host of spies located up and down the years of its construction. Well, unfortunately for you, I can put a stop to the whole thing right now. The apparatus isn't so important to us.

4989-A1 does not respond.

Dr. Kells: If you're planning on doing something to me, then hurry up. I don't have all day, you know. But without me, there's no Site 89 and Apparatus for you to get your hands on.

4989-A1: Oh, there will be, Simon.

4989-A1 presses a point on the side of its neck, and the suit immediately begins to fold away from him. When it has fully come off him, a humanoid figure is revealed, who looks identical to Dr. Kells. Dr. Kells abruptly starts and stands up, looking shocked.

Dr. Kells: Wh- what kind of- how have you-

4989-A1: It's really very simple. Mind if I have a seat?

4989-A1 takes a seat in an armchair in front of Dr. Kells' desk.

4989-A1: Tomorrow, your job as provisional Project Manager ends. You'll become O5-4, and you'll fly over to Site 01 to be sworn in. It is there that you'll discover that the O5 Council has access to certain advanced technologies that allow them to extend their lifespan. To prevent any aging, and keep them constantly renewed at their own age. You'll have moral qualms about it at first, sure, but you'll do it in the end. It's for the greater good, after all.

4989-A1 lights a cigarette, and begins smoking. Dr. Kells slowly sits back down again.

4989-A1: The years will pass, and you'll do well for yourself. Very well. You'll end up being the chief member of the Council. And one by one, as they get killed in some meaningless action or other, as they drop like the flies they are, as there isn't enough substance for the newer members to be anything other than mediocrities, you'll end up as the last one left. The only one with power. The-

Dr. Kells: The Administrator. You're the Administrator.

4989-A1: Quite. And so are you- or, you will be. The position will have been empty for a long time by then, but in times of war a Dictator is necessary. When it's done, I'll retire somewhere. Crozier Island, perhaps- we always did like the cold there. But until then, I need to win this war.

Dr. Kells: The Red Shah. He's-

4989-A1: Don't say his name. Please. It doesn't do good to remind the world of what he is, andwhat we did. What matters is that the enemy's at the door, and he's not happy.

Dr. Kells: Why do this? Why are you taking people?

4989-A1: Because I need bodies for the wall and there are none left. I'm trapped in the far, far north of Siberia, at Site 89, and nobody can help us. The legions have the land, the traitors have the sky, and the ice has the ocean. Nothing can get in or out of Site 89, and the only people left have their own problems to deal with, thousands of miles away. I need manpower. I need bodies.

Dr. Kells: This… that is monstrous.

4989-A1: Oh, undoubtedly, but you've been here too long to still have principles about these things. We take them, and we put stuff in their heads to make them fight and understand, and we put them on the wall to fight, to man the cannon, to die. That's our world now. That's where your grand project will lead us. We try to take Foundation people when we can, or ORIA people for our friends down south, but too much change at once is a shock to the system, so we have to spread it out a bit across time. We try to get ones who can hold a gun, at least. Are you alright? You look quite pale.

Dr. Kells: You can change time. You can stop all of-

4989-A1: No, sorry, Ireally can't. You remember what happened the last timewe accidentally fucked the timeline up. Your career took decades to recover after that blunder. And besides, it wouldn't work. The timeline has ways of correcting itself; the most damage we've done is almost screwing the Fall of Rome up and messing up the Late Maya, who were doomed anyway. You can't get the staff, you see. Training these idiots is just too much-

Dr. Kells: Shut up. Just… just shut up. Let me think.

4989-A1: Take your time. I'm in no hurry. I can travel in time, after all.

There is silence for several minutes. 4989-A1 continues smoking.

Dr. Kells: You. You're what I turn into.

4989-A1: Don't act so surp-

Dr. Kells: Oh, shut up, you smug little- look, what the hell do you want from me? If everything really is so hard to change, why should what I do alter anything? What is this?

4989-A1:(quietly) I know for a fact it changes things, because I remember being you.

There is silence for several seconds.

Dr. Kells: What?

4989-A1: I remember sitting where you're sitting. I remember- well, I don't fully remember, I think I might have changed something this time around, but I remember myself, sitting there, full of outrage and indignation as I argued against the inevitable. And the version of me that came from the future changed my mind. I stopped the cancellation of Site 89, I took my seat on the council, and I did what had to be done. Because itdoes have to be done.

Dr. Kells: S-stealing people from the past-

4989-A1: I told you. I need bodies. And none of you need them, caught up in your primitive tribal wars with one another, or containing little outbreaks of antimemes or statues. You think the conceptual nightmares or Hindu snake gods which haunt your waking thoughts survived? The Shah is in everything, is in our heads, our hollow hearts. He can't be stopped, except by bodies thrown against him, except by this desperation.

Dr. Kells: You don't know that.

4989-A1: I do. I've seen him.

There is silence for several seconds.

Dr. Kells: You've- seen-

4989-A1: It was the fifth year of the war, on a snowy day. Those early years were pure carnage. I was leading our forces in a massive offensive against their position in the Altai Shan. We thought we'd finally made some headway in this campaign, after years of failure. His forces were retreating, we'd won the day… and then he came.

I saw him, Simon. I saw what he was. I saw all the bile, the howling, the hate-filled rage of this thing that men had made. It was like staring at a Pattern Screamer, but more hollow. I understood, then, what I'd told myself so long ago. As we fled, our minds on the edge of madness, I vowed that we would never lose. We would not fall. We would prevail. I understood the truth of the world today; its meaninglessness, its desperation, like the dark eyes of an eel in those moments when we cling screaming to life. I won't go like that. We will prevail.

Dr. Kells: You must have tried something else. What ab-

4989-A1: Anything you suggest has already been tried. I, or one of the others, or someone in the Empire, or the fucking GOC pretenders in Hong Kong- it's been tried. There's nothing else. There's just the wall. Rights, mercy, ethics, tolerance- these are peacetime things. What we need now is bodies. What we need now is meat. This is war, and I don't care what happens as long as one of us can stand upon the body of the Shah's last follower and still be alive.

4989-A1 stubs out his cigarette, and rises, standing over Dr. Kells' desk.

4989-A1: You have to give Site 89 the go ahead. You have to keep letting us take your soldiers. We'll be careful. We'll make sure nothing too deadly gets loose. And you can always recruit more. You have all the manpower in the world.

A silence ensues for several moments.

Dr. Kells: I- I can't just do that. It's not- I'm not-

4989-A1: You're making exactly the same whimpering noises I made years ago. And I know what I did, Simon Kells. I know what I am. And I know what you'll do. What you have always done, every time every slightly altered iteration has had this talk.

4989-A1 begins to walk away. Dr. Kells is silent.

4989-A1: Be seeing you. In a manner of speaking.

4989-A1 abruptly demanifests. Dr. Kells is left alone, staring at the snow outside his window. After several minutes, he presses a button on the underside of his desk, deactivating the camera.

<End Log>

At 6.23 the next morning, Foundation personnel entered Dr. Kells' office to find that he had died by suicide, using a standard issue firearm. A short note was left by Dr. Kells to explain his actions.

I know you're never going to read this- you're not even going to have ever existed in a minute- but having considered the matter deeply, I think that you're talking a load of utter horseshit.

I believe you've seen the Shah. I believe you've been tortured by what you saw. I believe everything you tell me is completely true, my dear Simon. But that doesn't somehow make it true. Your mind's too small for that. All our minds are. You'll never see any truth beyond your own eyes.

You know why old men are so conservative, so backwards? It's not because of the wisdom of experience, it's because they don't know how to be anything else. They've seen so many disappointments and so much of the same old life that they can't concieve of anything else. Minds narrowed to the point that any darkness is considered the ultimate truth.

And that's all you are, Simon- an old man. You sink into darkness and mistake it for some ultimate truth, some nihilistic revelation of bitterness that comforts you to sleep. But just because you can see something in your frail little mind, you assume it never could be. You made this, Simon. You- we- were too weak. You turned humans into objects, into livestock. You smashed your training into their brains, turned medieval women into modern warriors. You kept them as chained prisoners, took away their personhood, took away who they were. You think that's how you win a war?

There's always another way than this. There's always a way out. Your petty fascism is the mark of incompetence, of hysteria and cynicism and the pain of failing wrapped in a madness that looks, if you're the right kind of fool, like a rational truth. But people can't live like that. If you'd given them hope, if you'd given them a future, if you'd made them people, then there's nothing they wouldn't withstand. Make them rise with one heart and voice under a banner of truth. The Shah is small. The Shah is made of our weaknesses. You're wrong, Simon, and you always will be.

You see, what's become very clear over the course of this conversation is that I'm really not the man for the job. The problem isn't the Shah's strength, it's your own. It's mine. Ours. After I let loose the snowfall, I vowed I'd never again let this kind of hateful purity of thought infect me, but here we are again. After all this time, the same old mistakes. So someone needs to remove us from the picture.

The timeline will change, of course. There's no stopping that, but I fail to see any worse outcome than this. We may be gone, but someone else will step up, because someone always does. Because we're people. And when this Scarlet King comes to take us all, we'll be ready. We'll be fighting. And we'll be so veryhuman.

I'd say "see you in hell", but where you're going, there isn't even that.

-Kells.