The SCP Experience - Don't Blink | SCP-173

Episode Date: February 17, 2023

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-173: Don't Blink This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-173, 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

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Saving those children is how we all go home. From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. The two men in tattered Foundation tactical gear open the cage door. A third man stands on the ground behind the vehicle. Pointing his weapon at us, a freight will try to escape. None of the three other people in the cage with me move. The woman who gets thrown in is bloodied and beaten. Her dark, sweat-drenched hair hangs in her face over a swollen left eye and a split lip.

She hits the metal floor with a thud. Her shackles rattling as she comes to rest. We look down at her from the bench seats on either side of the enclosed truck bed. There are two men and one other woman in the cage, Hansen, Ward, and Reyes. I know all of them. We were captured together. The two foundation guys shut the cage door and lock it. Then they all move around and get into the front of the vehicle.

The engine fires up, and we're on our way. The crumbling remains of the city pass by on either side, as seen through the bars of our mobile prison. Fires flicker here and there from the recent fighting. Craters park the side streets. Half-collapsed buildings add to the chaotic look of the once-thriving metropolis. Gun metal gray skies loom. impressively close, but I long ago grew used to the constant sense of claustrophobia.

In a world gone mad, the clouds are the least of your worries, although a glimpse of the sun now and then does a lot to lift spirits. Unfortunately, I've lost count of how many days it's been since seeing the sun. The woman on the floor tries to get up, but can't quite manage it. She falls back down. I slide forward on my seat and reach my shackled hands out to help her. I'm kind of surprised when she lets me. Where are we?

She asks, getting settled on the bench seat to my right. I'm guessing we're headed to the arena, I tell her. Even through the dirt and grime and swollen features, I can see the fears subtle on her face. She lurches for the locked door to the cage, grabbing it and trying to force it open as a high whale escapes her throat. Knock it off, Hansen says, moving from the other bench seat to calm the woman. We picked the wrong side, I tell her with a shrug.

You had to think this might happen one day. There are worse ways to go, Hansen says. None of this seems to get through to the woman. She's breathing heavily and looking around for an escape route, not to be found. But at least, she's no longer making that awful noise. Ever since the XK-class end-of-the-world scenario, Or maybe it was a ZK class, or a YK class. Whatever, doesn't matter.

Ever since society as we knew it collapsed, and a huge percentage of SCPs were released into the world, life has become dirt cheap. But you still find some people like this woman, who holds some kind of high regard for human life. Well, her own life, anyway. She probably doesn't care much about other people's lives. human nature, I guess.

Don't get me wrong. I don't want to die. But in a world where the average life expectancy isn't even known, you know things are bad. And when things are bad, only the strongest survive. Only those who spend their time preparing, which is just what I've been doing. Even now, there are plenty of people who live by the words,

it will never happen to me. Habits ingrained from years of living within a civilization die hard, and I've had to tell myself over and again that it will happen to me and to act accordingly. And here I am, being carted off to my doom, but my eyes are open, they're wide open, and they don't blink. I ruminate on the value of life as we roll away the crumbling skyscrapers, headed for a sprawling lighted compound in what used to be a quaint little suburb.

Fortified walls loom as we approach a gate manned by a small group of heavily armed men wearing foundation gear. Maybe some of them even worked for the foundation, back before the end of the world. Maybe not. Doesn't matter now. What matters is they have more power than any other splintered faction in this part of the world. And they control the arena. We moved through the gate and into a scene that would have been right at home during the Middle Ages. That is, if you ignore the modern architecture, the half-smashed cars, the flat-screen televisions all over the place, and the guards with high-powered rifles. The streets of the gated community are choked with shoddily clothed humans.

They barter and chatter and jeer at us as we pass. They know where we're headed. The television screens hanging everywhere have words and a static image on them. The words say, The games will begin soon. Underneath them is a doll-like figure with an oblong smear of red down the center of its bulbous head. Inside the red smear is an inverted black oval, almost like a sideways mouth. Flanking this oval are what appeared to be two pairs of eyes, stacked atop each other. The top pair is greenish-yellow.

the bottom pair black. It's not wearing any clothes, and its skin, if you can call it that, is gray, yellow in color, like piss-stained concrete. It has stubby arms and legs, none of which end in any digits, just nubs.

Of course, this is just an approximation of the thing, an artist's rendering. You can't see SCP-173 on camera, not for more than a few seconds at a time. Any camera that records or broadcasts the thing for too long will malfunction and eventually die, which is why the games are so celebrated. They're fleeting, which makes them valuable.

There are crude paintings of 173 on walls and cars. A few of the children I see as we move through the crowds have their faces painted in imitation of the strange creature. As we pass through another gate in an inner wall, We leave the teeming masses behind. Now, the only people we see are those wearing armor and carrying weapons. The truck stops next to what used to be a shopping mall. Now, it looks like a fortress.

All the doors and windows are covered with huge metal slabs. Steel eyebeams lean at angles against these slabs, adding reinforcement. This is the arena. This is where we will all die. The guys from the truck cab come around and open the back door. We all file out. Reyes, Hansen, Ward, and the new woman all step out before me. We're led to a heavy-duty door on the side of the mall.

A guard opens it and shows us inside to a small room with three guards and another door straight ahead. I look up and see the camera in the corner of the room, peering down at us. And I know we're now on every single television screen outside the arena. Two of the guards aim their rifles at us while the third steps up and unlocks our shackles. Behind us, the guard who led us in retreats outside. If you move while I'm taking your cuffs off, you die. The guard says, droning on like he's done this speech a thousand times. He probably has.

After your shackles are removed, you will be given a small flashlight. These flashlights only work for five seconds at a time before they show. You have to wait 10 seconds for them to be ready to turn on again. Remembering this will keep you alive. It will give you a chance at winning in the arena. Five seconds on, 10 seconds off. He finishes unlocking the new woman's chains before stepping over to me. The only way to keep SCP 173 from killing you is to maintain a direct line of sight with it.

But if it's too dark for you to see 173, then you can't maintain a direct line of sight with it. You can't maintain a direct line of sight with it, and you will die. Unless you use your flashlight wisely to illuminate 173. And don't forget, direct line of sight means two eyes. You can't cheat and keep one eye open while giving the other a rest. It doesn't work. So if one of your eyes gets damaged, that's as good as being blind, which means you will die. He tells us all this stuff like we don't know.

like we haven't heard how it works. Like this isn't the threat people like us have lived under for years. You get caught by the foundation, you go to the arena. And if you go to the arena, you die. Simple as that. He unlocks my shackles. I stare at the door beyond him, unblinking. Do you all understand?

The guard asks. He doesn't wait for us to answer. He just says, good. He hands us each a small. metal flashlight. Teamwork makes the dream work, he says, stepping to the door and banging on it. Coming in!

He opens the door and tells us to move. The new woman looks from the door to the guards with their rifles trained on us. She moves forward, and I follow along. It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter.

Book your seat at WestJet or call your travel agent, WestJet, where your story takes off. We step into a lighted room with several dark hallways leading from it. SCP 173 stands in the middle of the room, looking like a statue. It's about eight feet tall, with an oblong head and a face much like the renderings I saw outside. The room smells like shit and blood. Because those substances seem to be generated in the vicinity of SCP 173.

There are three men in the room, all of them staring at 173. Blinking! One of them calls. Copy. Another says. The first guy blinks, then fixes his eyes back on the creature. Two slots open up on the walls behind us, and the guards from the other room stick their rifle barrels through,

aiming them at us. Two cameras point down at us from opposite corners of the room. Come on out! One of the armed guards calls. The three watchers move slowly out of the room, going backward, keeping their eyes on the creature. We have to be smart about this, I tell my teammates. We tell each other when we're going to blink, and we take turns using our flashlights. The sound of the door shutting behind us signifies the start of the game.

Reyes, you use yours first, I say. Then Hansen, then Ward, then me. What about me? The new woman says, turning to look at me. Don't, I begin, just as the lights shut off, plunging the room into darkness. There's a loud, crunching sound from just ahead of me. Reyes clicks her flashlight on, pointing the beam at the source of the sound. It illuminates the creature, standing frozen over the new woman's body.

Her head has been twisted all the way around. It's fast, Ward says. No shit, I think, counting in my head. Get ready, Hansen. Just as Reyes' flashlight goes off, the overhead lights come back on. Move! I say to my teammates, keeping my eyes fixed on the creature, even as I move around it and toward the three hallways opposite me.

We need to create as much distance as possible. But Hansen, be ready with your light. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hansen dart off, running full tilt down one of the tunnels. You motherfucker! Ward shouts after him. Ward, be ready with your light. I say,

stepping toward the creature and the woman's body. What are you doing? Reyes shouts. Just be ready, I say. The lights make a clicking sound just as they go off. Press the button when that happens. And for fuck's sake, don't blink or I'm dead. I haven't blinked since the lights came back on.

I keep the creature in my vision as I step up. I'm close enough that it won't even have to take a step to break my neck. I crouch, still looking at the creature, while feeling around with my left hand for the woman's flashing. Finally, I feel the small metal cylinder, grabbing it just as the lights click off. I suck in a breath as a flashlight beam illuminates the creature. It's bending down. It's handless arms inches from my face.

I count to five as I back away. Just as Ward's light goes off, I click one of the two flashlights in my hand, illuminating the creature. I've got it for ten seconds. Ward, go down the same hallway Hanson went down. But don't get too far ahead! We move like this. this, going through the cycle of me, Reyes, Hansen, and me again until we've made it as far away as we can while still keeping the thing in our light beams. The overhead lights have been off

for more than a minute. Then the lights come back on. We're in a room with high ceilings. There's a hissing sound above us, and I feel little droplets settle on my face. I resist the urge to look up to see what's happening. I keep my eyes fixed on SCP-173 down the hall. It takes a moment for me to feel the burn in my eyes. Oh, God! Ward says. My eyes! I can't keep them open! My eyes water is whatever they've sprayed down on us gets in them.

My eyelids twitch. The urge to close my eyes and rub at them becoming unbearable. What do we do, Barker? Reyes screams. I can't keep them open! Holding both flashlights in one hand, I reach up with my other and pin my top eyelids open with my thumb and index finger. And I move back, knowing I only have one chance to survive this.

I bring Ward into my peripheral vision. He rubs his eyes and turns toward me, blinking. What are you doing? He asks. Where are you going? Stop blowing at your fucking eyes and keep them open. I say through gritted teeth. You're only making a blurs.

Tears pour down my cheeks, blurring my vision. But I keep my pupils fixed on the creature. The lights shut off. I click on one of my flashlights only. a second later, but the creature's gone. It's not even in the hallway. The sound of vertebrae snapping causes me to turn the flashlight, and I bring the creature into view. It's still holding Ward's head in its stubby arms. He twitches. His body limp with paralysis as he dies, propped in the frozen creature's arms. The flashlight goes out, and I click the other one on. In the half

second it takes for me to make the move, the creature darts toward me, freezing just a few feet from me as I get the light on it. I still have my eyelids held open as I backpedal, going toward Reyes. Don't bring it over here, Barker. She shouts. I can't see. Point your flashlight toward me or we're both dead. I shout. She does. pointing the beam just past me and onto 173 as my second flashlight goes out. Can you see it? I ask her as I move slightly behind her, just in case. She's blinking furiously with red eyes. Yes. She says. Yes, I can't. We can do this. We can... Something smashes into her from the side.

She goes down, and her flashlight B whips away just before the five seconds are up, and it shuts off. On instinct, I backpedal. Ten seconds have passed since I used one of my flashlights. I click it on and find the creature. It has Reyes between its stubby arms. Her throat has been crushed, and her face is turning purple as I watch. In the splash of light, I see Hansen scrambling away, two flashlights now in his hand. Idiot.

My thoughts move at lightning speed. I have a choice to make. When my flashlight goes out, I can turn the other one on and freeze the creature. But, since Hansen is between the creature and me, I can click the flashlight off now, buying myself a few precious seconds before clicking the other one on.

The creature will surely kill Hansen. It was proven he can't be part of a team. And if I can somehow manage to get another flashlight, then I can keep this game going all day. With three flashlights, I can cycle through them, keeping a light on the creature at all times. I can survive for another minute, another hour, another day, I can win. I click the flashlight off. Three seconds have passed since I turned it on.

I hear the crunch of Hansen's neck breaking. That's my signal. I turn the other flashlight on and immediately move directly toward Hansen and the creature standing over him. I don't have enough time to go for Ward. His body is too far away. But Hansen has two flashlights, and his body is close. Seconds tick by as I move, keeping my eyes fixed on the creature. Three seconds left, two seconds.

I hope against hope that there's two more seconds left on the first flashlight. Is that how they work? I don't know. I guess I'll find out. One second. I click on the other flashlight just as I reach Hansen's body. It works. I have two seconds to find another flashlight.

The right flashlight. The one that Reyes wasn't using less than ten seconds ago. I dropped down to my knees. keeping my blurry, tear-filled eyes fixed on the creature. One second, I grab a flashlight. Just as mine goes out, and I feel too cold, rough arms touch me. I clicked the new one. It turns on.

I'm looking up at the creature. Its arms are touching me on either side of my head. A split second longer, and I would have been dead. As I pull my head away from it, I feel around for the other flashlight, finding it. The overhead lights turn on. I stand and back away until my back touches the wall. I slip one of the flashlights into a pocket. Now the trick will be using the three others to my advantage,

and, of course, not blinking. But I've prepared for this. I've told myself over and over again that it will happen to me, and I've acted accordingly. My eyes are open. They're wide open, and they don't blink. I've spent years teaching myself to go without blinking. Years of staring up at starless night skies,

counting the seconds as my eyes burned and the urge to blink worsened. Each day, I got a little better, kept them open for a little longer. I've lived with a simple two-word motto, two words that bounced around my head constantly as I eeked out a living as a scavenger and a hunter and a farmer. Two simple words, don't blink. Because I know that if the show gets boring for the masses, you can actually win the arena.

If no one ever won, then it would take the fun out of it. Still, there have only been a handful of winners over the years. But a handful is enough. A handful tells me winning as possible. And as the lights go out again, I click on a flashlight. I illuminate the creature, and I count the seconds. SCP-173 is constructed from concrete and rebar, with traces of Krylon brand spray paint.

SCP 173 is animate and extremely hostile. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP 173. Personnel assigned to enter the container are instructed to alert one another before blinking. The object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull or by strangulation. In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe Class 4 hazard. as object containment procedures. Personnel reports sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside.

This is considered normal, and any change in this behavior should be reported to the apting HMCL supervisor on duty. The reddish-brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. The origin of these materials is unknown. The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis. Lazang sur-gillet, Puisance-Moyerned 15 minutes. We're like

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