The SCP Experience - How Do You Know the World is Dead? | SCP-2935

Episode Date: November 9, 2022

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-2935: How Do You Know the World is Dead?  This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-2935, 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

Welcome to aboard, Viarai. Embarked, and profited. Embarked and relaxes. Cirotay. Bookiné. Oh, that also. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love that we're going to be.

I know logically that we've only gone downhill since entering the cave. There's no way we could be coming to another entrance. Especially not one so big. It's just not possible. We're deep underground right now. But the sunlight streaming in from the roughly circular hole isn't false. So even if I know it logically, my eyes trick me into believing what I'm seeing. I look at the other members of my team, wondering if they're feeling like I am.

Unesy. Frightened. We all sat at the command post and watched the drone footage. We saw through the camera's eye what awaited us on the other side of the cave. So why am I so uneasy? I've gone into battle against formidable SCPs before. I've gone against cults powered by anomalous artifacts, and I've done it all without so much as a nervous swallow or a tremor in my hand.

Why does this mission seem like the most dangerous one yet? I don't know, but I shrug it off as we approach the bright outside world. Hansen and Yang move cautiously over the rocky cave floor to my right. Craig, the team lead, is to my left, along with chambers. We're in full combat gear, armed with M4 carbines and sidearms. We're wearing the foundation equivalent of spacesuits because we just don't know what the hell we're dealing with. The drone's command sent in with instruments came back with nothing.

No anomalous things detected. Nothing at all. Maybe that's what scares me the most. We gather at the threshold and pause, gazing at a landscape that looks almost exactly like the one we just left when we came into the cave, back in the real world. But there's one big difference. The world we're gazing at now is dead. The cave mouth we entered is in Indiana, farming country. Fields of crops dotted with farmhouses, rolling green hills with grazing cattle. The occasional plane flying past in the sky, high above the birds that dead. beat their wings, or soar on unseen currents.

The look, smell, and feel of life is everywhere, back there. That's what we left. But it's certainly not what we're looking at. The fields are brown, the crop's dead. Cattle lie on the rolling brown hills, unmoving. There's nothing in the sky, no birds, no planes, not even any clouds. Nothing. But everything else is exactly the same, like a mirror image, but lacking any life.

It's a dead version of Indiana, maybe of the world. Let's move. Craig says, stepping out of the cave and onto the rocky ground outside the entrance. As I step foot out of the cave, dread settles in my gut like I just ate a dozen rocks. I ignore it and move on, following the others toward the nearest tree. farmhouse. Nothing on the sensors, Hansen says, looking down at the tablet he carries in one hand. We're all wearing an array of sensors, each one checking and rechecking for any and all anomalous and non-anomalous abnormalities. As we approach the farmhouse, we pass within a few hundred yards of

a small pond. I gaze at it as we move, thinking about a similar pond I used to love as a kid in my grandparents' house. Of course. The one from my childhood wasn't gray and surrounded by dead vegetation. Still, I can't take my eyes off it. There's something there. A figure, partially hidden by the tall, dead grass. Maybe someone was there, fishing or just enjoying the weather when it happened. When this world died.

You good, Fletcher? Craig asks, seeing I've fallen behind. Yeah, I say, turning my head from the pond and reached. resuming my previous pace. I'm good. We already know what we'll find in the farmhouse, but command wants verification. We're here to do what the drone couldn't.

Take samples and try to figure out what the hell happened. Yay, you stay out here. Craig says as we gather in front of the white two-story house. Fletcher, you and me are going in the back. Chambers and Anson, you go in the front. We haven't seen any movement, but that doesn't mean there's nothing here. Stay frosty.

We all confirm our orders. Then I follow Craig to the back of the house. The doors unlocked, and we step into the kitchen, immediately seeing the dead bodies in the adjacent dining room. But before we address them, we clear the house. With that drone, the four of us gather in the dining room, looking at the three dead bodies all sitting in chairs around the dining room table. There's a man and a woman, both slumped over the table.

The third body is that of a teenage boy. boy, who slumped down in his chair. The lights are still on in the kitchen, and the time on the microwave reads 1143. That's the same time my built-in clock says on the multi-display on my left forearm. It looks like they just died, Hansen says. But they haven't even decomposed yet. It sure does, Craig says. Which is strange, because it's been nearly 24 hours since we sent the drones in here. That's enough time to start the decomposition process. While they talk, I lean down and look at the man's watch. It's still working.

There's a little window on the watch face with the day's date inside. His watch says it's the 26th, I say. That's today. There's a phone on the table, and Chambers reaches out, hitting the button on the sign to wake it up. Nothing happens. Probably dead, Hansen says. Check the kid for another phone, Craig says to me.

I can see the rectangular shape. in the kid's pocket, and it only takes me a moment to get the phone out. It too is dead. If the phones are dead, then why aren't these people more decomposed? Greg asks. Maybe they both forgot to charge their phones? Chambers suggests. If it was one phone, I'd buy it, Greg says. But two? No way. And a teenage boy without a fully charged phone at the beginning of the day? I have two teenagers, and they're never without a charged phone. Yeah, I say. And look at the food.

The eggs and bacon aren't moldy like you'd expect. The milk hasn't even coagulated yet. We stand in silence for a long moment, staring down at the people. They have no visible signs of trauma. There's no blood, no vomit, no broken limbs or bullet holes. Nothing. Hanson, get samples of skin, food, and water from the tap if it still works, Craig says. Fletcher and Chambers.

See if one of those vehicles outside will start. We need to get over to Site 81. I nod and follow Chambers toward the front of the house, where there's a wall-mounted key holder. Chambers grabs one set of keys, and I grab the other. Then we step outside and tell Yang he can go inside and take a look. We turn our attention to the two vehicles. One is a late-model Chevy pickup truck,

the other an older minivan. The minivan will be the most comfortable. So we try it first. It starts up without a hitch. Ten minutes later, we're all in the van, bumping off the driveway and onto the main road, heading for Site 81. As Chambers drives and Craig Sitz shotgun, I look out the window at the crashed cars along the highway. Back in the real world, we came from Site 81 just outside of Bloomington, Indiana,

to the cave mouth on the outskirts of Joppa. It was about an hour's drive. It takes us much longer in this place. The people who were driving when they died mostly ran off the road, but not all of them. We have to skirt pile-ups carefully. And while these commuters probably died at the exact same time as everyone else, the crashes that ensued mangled their bodies and splattered blood all over the road. We stopped twice to take more samples and look for indications that whatever happened here was immediate or close to it.

From everything we see, it looks like it was. There's no telling if the whole world is dead, or if it's just a part of Indiana, or a chunk of the United States, or the entirety of North America. We'll find that out eventually. But for now, the heaviness in my gut tells me there's no one left alive in this strange mirror world.

You're still in contact with command, right? I ask, Craig, noticing he hasn't talked in a while. He turns in his seat and looks at me from behind his visor. Yes, he says. We've been doing com checks every five minutes. That makes me feel better. It's easy to think that this is our world. That something happened after we went into the cave.

And we came out to our world dead. But that's not the case. We pull off the highway and stop at a small gas station on Craig's orders. The team lead tells us to stay put as he runs inside. He comes out a few moments later with a newspaper in his hand. He stares down at it as he walks slowly back to the van. When he gets back in and shuts the door, he passes the paper to chambers. April 20th, 2023, Craig says.

That's what the newspaper says. That's the latest issue. Six days ago? I ask. Looks that way, Craig says. The newspaper gets passed around. Sure enough, it's from six days ago. The top headline is about the looming recession. Nothing about the end of the world.

I bet if we get that day's paper back in our world, it'll say the exact same thing, word for word, Yang says. No one comments. Silence settles in on the van. After nearly two hours of driving, we get to Site 81. We pass Frank Deslap and Patricia Wentworth, who worked the morning shift at the front gate. They're both dead.

I have to remind myself they're not the same Frank and Frank and Patricia, I know. Craig has to bypass the lockdown security measures to get us through, but it doesn't take long. Soon enough, we're inside. And just as we're about to open the door to our section of the site, Craig stops and tells us to gather around. Okay, is everyone ready to see themselves dead?

He asks. It's such a strange question, but there's no hint of humor in his voice. 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.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off.

Ready as we'll ever be, Hansen says for all of us. What were you all doing in the morning of the 20th? Craig asks. Think back. Hansen and I were at the pistol range for most of that morning. Yank says. I was in the gym with Fletcher from six to eight. Chambers says.

Then I took a shower and hit up the cafeteria. I nod. Yeah. I worked out a little longer. Got out of there around 8.30 or so. Then I went back to the dorms after my shower to do some reading. Okay. Craig says.

Be ready. Just remember that you are you. These bodies may look like you, but they're not. But also be on the lookout for any skips. We don't know how this thing affected anomalous beings. There could be live ones running around. We all voice our confirmation and then move into A-wing. We don't see any skips, also known as SCPs, running around.

We don't see much of anything, aside from the dead bodies. We find Yang and Hansen at the firing range, just like they said. Yang's body is crumpled up in one of the stalls, while Hansen's is sprawled flat on the floor. We keep going, seeing people we've worked with for years, all dead and gray with. lifelessness, but not decomposing. We stop by Craig's office and find him there on the floor behind his desk. The dormitories come before the gym, so we check there first. Plenty of dead co-workers.

But my doppelganger isn't there. We check the gym and find Chambers dead in the squat rack. A couple of other people are there too. People I remember seeing in the gym on the morning of the 20th. You sure you were in here that morning? Craig asks me. Yes. say, that feeling in my gut getting heavier. Chambers and I came in together, and he left before me.

If he's here, I should be here too. Craig looks to Chambers for confirmation. He's right, Chambers says. It was only six days ago. I remember it clearly. Did you use the bathroom or something? Hansen asks. Maybe. I say. Probably. I definitely took a shower afterward. Craig sends Hansen to check the bathroom while he radios the situation into command. Hansen comes back out after a minute, shaking his head. What the hell? I say. I don't get it. This doesn't make any sense. Command wants us to head back in. Craig says.

We've been here long enough anyway. They'll send another team in to check on the containment chambers and access the computers to find out what triggered the signal we picked up back in our world. As we move back out of A-wing, my mind really. reels. I try to remember that day, step by step, but I keep coming up with the same thing. I went to the gym with chambers. He left first. I showered, and then went back to the dorms. The team is mostly silent as we drive back to the cave. We take the van as close to the cave mouth as we can, but we still have to walk a good chunk of it. And as we do, we pass that distant pond again. I glance at it, at the figure there, only partially.

visible amid the brown grass. As we approach the cave, I stop. Something isn't right, I say. The other stop and turn toward me. What do you mean? Craig asks. I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about this. I had this feeling ever since stepping foot in this place. It's pretty creepy, Anton admits. But none of our sensors have gone off. You'll feel better when we get home. I'm sure there's some logical explanation for why we didn't find the other you. Don't stress about it, Pregg says. Let's just get the hell out of here. Their words don't make me feel any better,

but I trudge back into the cave anyway. Soon enough, we come into view of the original entrance. The sight of green grass, birds in the sky, and cows mulling in a field gives me hope. But it's an empty hope. Something is wrong. Something's wrong with me. The rest of the team steps out of the cave

and starts over toward the group of foundation personnel standing under a large tent nearby. I swallow hard and then step out of the cave. A wave of death rolls away from me in an expanding circle like an explosion. The grass turns from green to brown in an instant as the wave touches it. A split second later, the four other members of my team dropped dead, followed quickly by the other foundation personnel. I watch in horror as the wave expands over the countryside, transforming the lush, living landscape into a barren deathscape.

Cows fall over. Two trucks cruising along the country road veer off and crash. Birds fall from the sky. An airplane speeds toward the ground in the distance, exploding as it hits. Everything and everyone around me dies. I stand, eyes wide behind my visor, sweat, soaking my armpits. No, no, no, no! The words pour out of me as I turn to run back into the cave.

ripping off my helmet and tossing it aside, along with the heavy M4 carbone I've been lugging around with me. I go far enough into the cave that I no longer see the entrance. I pace there for a few long moments, breath rasping, in and out of my lungs. When I can wait no longer, I run back to the cave mouth, hoping everything will be back to normal, vibrant, and alive. It's not.

Whatever I brought back with me has done its damage. So why am I still alive? I wander over to Craig and Chambers, Hansen, and Yang. I try to wake them up, but it's no use. Everyone is dead. Somehow, I've just killed over 8 billion people. My holstered sidearm suddenly seems heavy on my right hip. It needs to be lighter, my one bullet.

I pull the gun out and stumble away from my fallen comrades. Soon, I find myself next to the little pond. It seems like an appropriate place to end it all. As I stick the gun barrel into my mouth, I remember the figure hidden by the grass next to the other pond, the one in the other dead world. The memory stops my trigger finger. I holster the weapon and run back up the hill and into the cave.

I trip several times as I make my way underground, ripping the knees of my suit and skinning my hands. Then, finally, I'm there, standing at the mouth of the other cave, staring at the other dead landscape. My mad dash down to the pond roils my stomach and makes me vomit by the time I get there. Bile, dripping in long strings from my mouth,

I stumble over to the body in the grass. What the hell? I scream at the figure there. No, no, no, no! The other me lies there in the grass, the top of his head blown off. He holds his Sig-Sour pistol limply in his dead right hand. The same exact gun as mine.

But something else is exactly the same too. I move closer, wiping my eyes to clear them of stinging sweat and clouding tears. His hands are scraped up. The knees of his suit are ripped, just like my hands, just like my suit. What? I say, sounding like a confused child. My mind tries to understand how this could be so. If I was the one who killed my world, then could he be the one who killed his?

No, I watched my world die, and I saw his body, my body, lying here long before that happened. So how? Is it all a trick? Yes, it must be. Some grand illusion perpetrated by an SCP we've never heard of before. I'm obviously infected by it. So maybe there's a chance I can go back to my world. Maybe now it'll be back to normal. My legs are heavy as I head back up to the cave once again. I move slowly towards. toward my own world, hope pushing me along, fear keeping me from going too fast. I keep my eyes down as I round the final curve in the cave, bringing my world into view. And I slowly raise my eyes, hoping for a dash of color or the movement of a bird. All I see is a dead world, the very same one I left behind.

My compatriots still lie dead near the cave mouth. So that's it. It's over. If it is a trick, there's no escaping it. But that doesn't mean I have to die. Maybe I can figure out a way to live here. It's a big world. Surely I'm not the only one left alive.

Surely not. But I must rest first. I must gather my strength. So I go back down to the pond, and as I approach, my heart drops like an anchor at what I see. I'm lying there, dead, just as I was in the other world, in the same position. with the same-skinned hands and ripped knees. Oh, I say, nodding my head.

Okay. I manage a laugh as I get on my knees next to my dead body. It's a laugh that doesn't sound like my own. I pull out my weapon and shove the barrel into my mouth. In the split second before I pull the trigger, I see a thousand me's, lying dead in various positions around the pond. All of them are dead from self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the head. I have time enough to think

before the bullet smashes through my skull that this isn't my world. Maybe it never was. SCP 2935 is a spacetime anomaly existing within a limestone cave near Joppa, Indiana. The cave was discovered by foundation personnel after radio signals were discovered emanating from it. The SCP 2935 anomaly

is a nearly exact replica of the reality of modern Earth in the year 2023, with the primary exception being that all life ended on April 20th, 2020. Information gathered by the Mobile Task Force, who initially entered SCP 2935 for reconnaissance purposes, points to the conclusion that all life forms within SCP 2935 suddenly and without warning expired sometime between the hours of 0600 and 0700 EST. The reason for this is currently unknown. Command lost contact with the task force while they were reportedly on their way back out of SCP 2935.

Subsequent drone missions have yet to ascertain the whereabouts of said task force. For this and many other reasons, SCP 2935 is to be considered extremely dangerous, as its true capabilities are completely unknown. Further manned reconnaissance missions are postponed until further notice. Lazang surgellied, Puisance Moines for 15 minutes We're like it's

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