The SCP Experience - A World Dying | SCP-3007

Episode Date: September 7, 2022

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-3007: A World Dying This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3007, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The first sign it's happening again is the smell. Like nothing I've ever had the displeasure of smelling before, it's a combination of rotting flesh, feces, and moldy fruit. I'm in my bedroom getting dressed for work when it happens. Not again, I say, stumbling toward my bed as my vision starts to blur. As I lie down on the bed, my room goes out of focus, fading away. Another scene comes into focus. It must be a city, with towering buildings all around.

But the buildings are like none I've ever seen. They're many times larger than the tallest buildings on Earth. They're windowless and splotchy gray, as if they were once white, but have been in a state of disrepair for years, decades even. As the vision solidifies, transporting me to this foreign world, I'm able to look around to get my bearings. It's strange, though.

I can feel my bed pressed against me. I know I'm lying down, but in this vision, I'm standing up. I move my head in the vision, but my head doesn't move on my bed. It was like this last time, too. The towering gray buildings are all around, blocking any view of the horizon in every direction.

The light here is weak and watery, like a winter sun obscured by heavy cloud cover. I'm standing in the middle of a bridge between two massive buildings. There are hundreds of these bridges visible from where I am. Some of them have collapsed, though. Just like some of the buildings have collapsed, leaning cracked against other structures. I move carefully toward the edge of the bridge and look down, but I can't see the ground.

I have no idea how high up I am. The light doesn't reach down there, so it just fades to black. Nothing moves in the city. It's completely silent. There are no birds, no insects, no people, as far as I can see. Something terrible has happened here. The smell is stronger now, and I'm afraid to find out what's causing it. Backing away from the edge, I look left and right.

The strange metallic bridge is strewn with ruby. Most of it looks like pieces of the buildings, but there also seems to be a mangled vehicle or two further to my right. The first time this happened to me, which was only hours ago now, I had a panic attack. I curled up into a ball and wallowed in my misery until the vision faded away. Now I plan on doing the same thing. Moving around is strange since I can't feel anything, other than my body lying on my bed. So I sit in the middle of the bridge and wait, hoping the vision fades soon.

When I came out of it last time, the clock in the real world said just over an hour had passed. I can sit for an hour. But when this is done, I need to find help. I know this isn't real. There's something wrong with my brain. Maybe they can prescribe me some medication or something. This can't keep happening to me.

It's going to ruin my life. A blur of red movement catches my eye on the bridge. I whip my head that way, seeing nothing. It's not real, I tell myself shutting my eyes. It's not real. I don't understand, I tell the second doctor. I already told Dr. Michael's all this. Why do I need to tell you?

The man smiles at me. He's got curly, unkempt hair, and glasses perched on the end of his nose. He wears a lab coat with his name embroidered on it, Dr. Rald. It's just that your case sounds similar to another patient of mine, so I'd like to hear it from you. I shake my head. That's not possible.

How could two people have the same hallucination? There must be some mistake. Please. Dr. Rald says. Just explain to me these episodes, with as much detail as possible. So I do. I tell him about the two episodes, and even though. listens closely. He doesn't take notes or record me. He just listens. When I'm done, he takes a

moment before speaking again. So? He says, the first time happened when you were asleep in the early hours of this morning? Yes, I thought it was a nightmare at first, but I could still feel myself lying in bed. I had a panic attack, as I already told you. Dr. Rald nods. And the second time was only a few hours ago now? Yes. Okay, he says. I'd like you to come with me for some tests. Do you think you can make it stop?

Do you know what's wrong with me? Yes, I'm confident I have just the right thing for you. But you'll have to come with me over to my facility. Okay, I say, I can follow you in my car. Rald shakes his head. We can't risk you having an episode while driving. We'll take you there and deal with everything. Don't worry.

As I follow Rald out of the doctor's office, the original doctor I talked to, Dr. Michaels, looks at me with a strange expression on his face. I can't quite place it, but it almost seems like pity. Maybe he's embarrassed he doesn't have the expertise to help me. Who knows? We take the elevator down into the parking garage

and get into a black van, me in the back, and Ralled on the front. with the driver. I only realize when I get in that the back of the van is completely separate from the front, and the windows are all blacked out. I thought they were just deeply tinted from the outside, but that's not the case. Panic thickens my throat and gets my heart thumping. I try to open the door from the inside, but there are no handles. As the van starts moving, I yell out and bang on the partition separating me from the cab. Sweet-smelling gas pours through the surround.

I try to hold my breath, but it's no use. My eyelids grow heavy and consciousness fades away as I collapse on the bench seat. When I wake up, I'm strapped to a bed in a bright room. There's a mirror in the wall opposite me, but I figure it's really a one-way mirror. I'm guessing there are people on the other side, watching me. Dr. Rald sits on a stool next to the bed. There's no other furniture in the room.

The floor is made of metal grating, and I can see some kind of machinery under the grates. I can't tell what it is. Welcome back, Rald says with a toothless smile. So, Mr. Chilton, I'd like to get something straight with you. Did you really see something move during your last episode? What the hell are you doing to me? I say, struggling against the leather straps across my arms and legs. Where are we?

Please, stay calm. Ronald says, This is for your own good. We're going to help you. What you're dealing with is very dangerous. But if you cooperate, we can help you. No, I say, let me go. I don't want to be here.

I don't want your help. I'm afraid that's not possible. It's a matter of safety, you see. Not just for you, but for the entire world. Now, please tell me if you actually saw movement in the city. Yes, okay? Yes, I saw movement.

It was a blur of red, but I never saw it again after that. Okay, very good, Rod says. Here's what we're going to do. You're going to describe to me what you see during your next episode, okay? Every detail. How do you know I'm going to have another episode? and how will I describe it to you? Because everyone else before you

has had at least three episodes per day, sometimes four. And in every other instance, they can hear and feel reality. You told me you could still feel your bed, right? You're technically still in the real world when these episodes happen. And when you talk, I'll be able to hear you.

What is this really? I ask. It's not real, is it? That's what we're trying to figure out, Rald replies. It certainly seems real to those who experience it. So real, you have to be careful to avoid injury while you're there. I lay my head back on the pillow and look up at the smooth ceiling, realizing it's made of some kind of painted metal, just like the walls. Just let us know when the next episode starts,

Raald says, standing up. He's gone for no more than half an hour. when I smell the awful odor. I call out to let them know it's starting. A minute passes, and I hear the heavy metal door to the room open. I hear Rald tell me he's there, but I can't see him. I only see the city. But this time I'm not standing on a bridge,

and there's something I haven't seen before in the near distance. What do you see? Rald says. I can hear him clearly in my left ear. There's a pillar. I tell him. A black pillar. And it looks like there's a staircase wrapping around it.

And I stop, looking closer. What is it? There are figures around the bottom. So many figures. Are they moving? Rald asks. No, I say. None of them are.

They look dead. Realizing I'm on the ground. The buildings tower over me, leaving only a small gap of watery sky high overhead. The light is sparse here, and the ground is covered with debris. But it looks like some kind of road underneath, only made of a strange metal inside of asphalt or concrete like on earth. Go toward the pillar, Ralt tells me.

Being able to hear his voice helps. Plus, telling him what I see calms my mind. So I walk forward, moving toward the black pillar. I have to skirt some kind of six-winged aircraft that has crashed. against the base of the nearby building. Looking inside the cockpit, I see a mangled humanoid figure. Its body has been ripped in two somehow. Strange, rotted organs and bones are exposed, shrivelled with age and exposure.

I tell Rald about it as I pass. He tells me to keep going to the pillar. He doesn't sound surprised. Finally, I come to the dead figure circling the black pillar. There are so many of them. Hundreds. They look like the figure I saw in the cockpit. Only most of them are intact.

Their robes have mostly disintegrated, exposing thin, graying bodies with two arms, two legs, and a head. It's hard to tell what color their skin was before they died. They're piled on top of each other, as if they were scrambling to get to the pillar when something killed them all. Some of them have also been ripped apart by something, but most of them are fully intact. Their oblong heads and wide-set faces are frozen in pain and terror. Their eyes, two for each figure, are shriveled and rotted. Lasagne sur-gillet, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes.

We're like it's their dojo. Pre-a-to-joo? Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino-on-line that proposes the more recent machine-assed and games of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours-grat-up on Big Bas Bonanza, without exigance of misgents and with the payments instantane. Hey!

We've got to win. Woohoo! Sonture! 18 and more, 1,000 Expulents on Ontario. 50 tours gratis for the machine-a-soubeck-bass Bonanza.

Deppos minimum of $10. Veer! Beye to be responsible. The conditions apply and profite. Embarked and celebrate. Rigolet. Publi,

savourate. Mmm. and... ...andrii, the voice that we love that am. The stench makes my stomach royal. I turn away.

telling Raald I can't keep going. You must, he says. We're running out of time. This is a chance you may not get again. We need to know what's special about the pillar. After taking a moment to compose myself, I turned back around and start climbing over the pile of bodies. As I'm coming down the other side,

my left leg slips in between a couple of corpses, causing me to fall down. A sharp pain erupts in the side of my calf, and I cry out, yanking the leg up and tumbling down the rest of the right. and tumbling down the rest of the way. What happened? My leg, I say, inspecting the wound. I cut it open.

I see the blood, Raltz says. I can feel as he lifts my pant leg up back in the real world. It's a small gash, but not terrible. Keep going, Raald says. I'll have someone come in and patch it up. Fine, I say, looking up at the pillar. Limping slightly, I moved to the staircase. and start trudging up.

The corpses littering the stairs make it slow going. My leg starts to feel very strange as I move up. I can feel someone wiping it down back in the room and chalk the odd feeling up to whatever kind of disinfectant they are using. I came to a small landing on the stairs. There's a painting there on the pillar. I explain it to Rald as best I can.

I continue moving up the stairs. Soon, I come to another landing. and another painting. This one, I explained to Rald as well. As I continue moving up, the odd feeling in my leg transforms into discomfort, like there's pressure coming from inside the limb. What are you doing to my leg?

I ask, climbing slowly. Nothing, Rald says. We're done. Why? What's wrong? I don't know. It's starting to feel strange. Rald doesn't answer. and I continue up the stairs.

I come to three more paintings as I move up, a total of five so far. They're telling a story, and it's not a good story. Something happened to these people, I say. According to these paintings, they were given technology by some entity, some benevolent being.

That's what the first painting depicts. But using that technology, they traveled to another planet, And what they encountered there, it wasn't good. And they brought it back here to this place. The third painting depicts some strange red creatures. Maybe that's what I saw the last time. Maybe they're still here.

What about the other two paintings? Rald asks. What can you glean from them? It looks like they sought help from the entity that gave them technology. But whatever they brought back with them was too powerful. The entity was overtaken by the parasites or whatever they are. They're signified by red creatures and lines in the paintings. The lines look like red smoke.

But I've stopped walking. My leg feels heavy and swollen, although it looks just like it did after I suffered the injury. Are you at the top? Not yet, I say. My leg, please, Rald says. We're already at 50 minutes. This episode could end at any time. We need to know what's at the top.

Dragging my leg like it has a 50-pound weight on it. I finally get to the top of the staircase, panting and feeling nauseous. The biggest painting so far is there. I raise my head and take it in. What do you see? Raald asks. I shake my head and study the painting again, trying to ensure that my eyes aren't tricking me.

It's... I can't find the words. I don't believe what I'm seeing, and suddenly, the alien world around me fades. I blink my eyes as the white room comes into view. What was it? Rald asks, leaning forward. The last painting, I say, wincing against the growing pain in my leg. It was of Earth.

The red parasites are coming to Earth. The color drains out of Rald's face. Oh, Christ, he whispers. I scream out as the pain in my leg multiplies. I look down at the limb. The blood drains out of my own face as the wound rips open, the surrounding skin bulging. Ralt jumps up, knocking over his stool.

His eyes are wide as he looks down at my leg. A small red claw emerges from the gash. I can do nothing but scream as a second claw emerges. And then, an insectile head. Rald runs around the bed, screaming. I scream as he shuts the heavy door behind him. I scream as he shuts the heavy door behind him. sealing me in the room alone.

The creature pulling itself out of me looks exactly like one in the third painting. This is how they come, I realize. The invasion has begun. There's a great whooshing sound from the floor. I look down at the metal grates and see flames emerging. The room grows hot as the flames lick violently through the grates. The creature emerges fully and releases a terrible, high-pitched whale as it runs up my body, trying to get away from the flames.

I managed to grab it with my left hand. It squirms, but I hold it tightly. Even as my skin begins to scorch... SCP-37-1 is a recurring hallucinogenic phenomenon with no apparent pattern regarding age, gender, race, health, or occupation. It affects dozens of individuals at any given time worldwide, with new instances constantly emerging, despite the foundation's efforts at elimination.

Currently, no method other than death has been proven effective in the prevention or discontinuation of SCP-37-1. It occurs on a seemingly random basis, for an average of four times per day in each subject. The duration is typically between 50 to 80 minutes. Affected subjects claim to be transported to a location designated SCP-37-3. The description of this location is largely identical. among subjects, but does not resemble any known place on Earth. Although this hallucinogenic phenomenon often occurs in multiple subjects simultaneously, there are no confirmed cases of subjects meeting within SCP-37-3.

While experiencing SCP-37-1, subjects are fully capable of physical movement, but report that they can only perceive reality through hearing and touch. As a result, subjects are capable of physical movement, of navigating the location while also maintaining communication with unaffected individuals. The sensations of sight, smell, and taste within SCP-307-3 are reportedly indistinguishable from reality. Any trauma or injury obtained within the context of SCP-37-1 will also manifest on subjects in reality. To date, there have been many subjects who died from high-altitude impact, presumably due to to actions taken while experiencing SCP-37-1.