The SCP Experience - Serving Happiness | SCP-4258

Episode Date: May 20, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-4258: Serving Happiness This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-4258, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Joshua Simpson DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Even after receiving the best possible advice for retaining my job with the SCP Foundation, I still ended up getting fired. At my induction, Mr. Spittle had warned me. Working for the SCP Foundation, sometimes people get tempted to go beyond the scope of their job, he said. Whether it's going off track to save a damsel in distress, pressing a big red button to see what it does, or righteously chastising an evil being, it never ends well. So, stick to your mission briefing.

You have it for a reason. But, like he said, sometimes people get tempted to go beyond the scope of their job. For me, it was on my eighth mission for the SCP Foundation when I was assigned to a research role that was supposed to be purely observational, supposed to be. You will be entering SCP-4258 on a by-daily basis over the next three months. said Mr. Spittle. During which you are to document everything you see and hear inside. Don't instigate any interactions with the beings there,

but do respond if they converse with you. He paused. Let me remind you, you are not to get involved in the affairs or pry into the workings of SCP-4258. This is a passive observation. Understood? Understood.

I told him, dismissing his warning. I'd never had any problems with veering off task before. On route to my first observation, the case notes briefed me that SCP 4258 appeared as a typical 1950s American diner, but it acted as an interdimensional meeting place, admitting guests from across an unknown number of unknown worlds, making it a hub of alternate realities. It appears in Fairfax, California, so that is where I was headed. Arriving there, I saw what looked like any old American diner from 50s films. From outside, looking in through the windows, it seemed empty.

But stepping inside, as the bell on the door jingled, and my shoe clicked on the chestboard, tiled floor, the diner was bustling with alien creatures of various sizes and shapes, all enjoying hot dogs, sodas, muffins, and such. Spread across the main wall, facing you as you enter, was an enormous neon sign. It had the diner's name and slogan in huge flashing red letters. It said, Freddy's Diner, insert catchy diner slogan here. As the door closed behind me, my nose was filled with the sickly sweet smell of strawberry milkshakes, mingled with the light saltiness of grease from the friar.

I could hear Elvis Presley crooning from the jukebox. The diners were the only thing out of place. A crustacean-like humanoid sat on a barstool at the bar, drinking coffee, leaning over a broad sheet newspaper. Two enormous golems were crammed into one of the seating booths, which ran against the wall. The ceiling's hanging lights bouncing off their foreheads as they left. laughed over a shared bowl of fries. A floating blob of sentient liquid thumped the side of the pinball machine in anger.

Welcome to Freddy's diner. I looked up and saw the man behind the bar welcoming me with outspread arms. He held a tablecloth in one hand, which he promptly swung over his shoulder. This was Freddy. He looked human and wore the classic red and white pinstriped shirt, a white apron, and one of those white paper hats. that look a bit like an opened envelope.

I stepped up to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools. Freddy slapped his hands down on the bar, smiling. Welcome to Freddy's diner. Insert catchy diner slogan here. What can I get you? Um, just coffee, please, I said. And I think that slogan was just supposed to be used as a placeholder, by the way. Is that so?

He said. Well, I guess that makes sense now. Human culture can be confounding at times. What would make a good slogan then? I don't know, maybe serving happiness? Perfect! He said, and waved his hand, transforming the neon sign into the new slogan.

Freddy's Diner, serving happiness. And it's just a coffee? You sure? How about a slice of blueberry pie straight out of the oven? Why not? I said. He smiled. Coming right up.

Then he walked out back. Looking around, I took a mental note of the interior. On the chrome tables stood red and yellow rocket chip bottles of ketchup and mustard, and the walls were adorned with kitsch Americana wall decor. There were colorful metal poster stuck on the tiled walls, advertising hot dogs, apple pie, and coffee, with novelty clocks whose clock faces advertised the same, and intermittent neon signs flashing phrases of encouragement,

such as, enjoy your meal, best burgers, and love is coffee. At that moment, three young kids came running up to the bar to grab the menu and discuss which milkshake they'd each get. Mint chocolate, mint chocolate. No, honeycomb crunch. You crazy. B'nafi every time. The crustacean man who'd been quietly reading the broadsheet, sighed and closed his newspaper.

He slid his coffee along the bar towards me, and then moved up next to me, away from the kids. At the same time, Freddie laid my coffee and blueberry pie on the bar. It smelled amazing, deep and rich. I held out a $10 bill, but Freddie waved it away. Your money's no good here, friend. So how do we pay? I asked. Just enjoy your meal, he said. Really? That's it.

But how can you sustain this? I said, gesturing to the bustling diner. Oh, we take a cut, he said. The diner skims off a bit of the excess emotional energy from its patrons as they enjoy this place. That emotional energy is what powers the diner. He smiled. and walked over to the excitable kids at the bar. As I watched him walk that way, my eyes crossed with the crustacean man sitting next to me.

Looks like he'll be able to skim a healthy cut from those kids, I said. The crustacean man slowly turned to look at the kids, then back at me, before saying, Don't believe everything Freddy tells you. This place is a business like any other. He slurped his coffee, then slowly offered me his shell to him. It seemed he could only move at a creakingly slow pace. Names Schler, he said. I took his cold, hard hand.

Real estate, he added, handing me his card. Names John. I'm an accountant. This was my assigned cover story. A clever conversation killer. Nobody's ever asked an accountant about their job. With sprinkles! Screamed one of the kids sitting along from Schlo. Schler. Schler shook his head and looked back down to his newspaper.

Freddy then walked back past us and crouched down at the back shelves of the bar to rummage through the jars of marshmallows and candies, looking for the sprinkles. Something tapped my shoulder. It was Schler's claw. He nodded and pointed to the electric fan propped on the bar next to me. Turn that around this way, would you? he asked. I did as he said, but as I turned turned the fan around to face him. It blew at the back of Freddy's head, blowing off his white paper hat. As the hat detached from his head, Freddy turned into what seemed like a three-foot-tall

fetus of a cat, bald and wet, with big blue eyes and no tail. Simultaneously, the music stopped, and the diner around us turned into a silver room with rounded edges, like the interior of a spaceship. he quickly snatched up the paper hat in his paws and put it back on his head. The diner returned, as did Freddy to his human form. The whole thing lasted a split second. Sorry about that, folks, Freddy called out, standing to smile at his patrons. Just a little glitch.

Normal service is now resumed. He grabbed the jar of sprinkles and went back to making the milkshakes, whistling a tune, as if nothing had happened. My hand was still atop the fan, which I'd now turned around a Schler, who raised his pink whisker eyebrows incredulously, as if to suggest Freddy was up to something. But then he said nothing, and continued reading his newspaper. I wondered then, had Schler intended to make me blow off Freddy's hat? There was a lot to consider.

I finished my blueberry pie, the best I'd ever had, and left. left Freddy's diner. Come back soon, he called. As I went out the door, a couple of days later, I saw Schler again, at the bar with his coffee and newspaper. I'd sat before the Neon's serving happiness sign and ordered a hamburger and fries, which was then my current favorite at Freddy's. The food was always incredible, yet I noticed that Schler never ate a thing.

I'd seen other crustaceans there gobbling down hot dogs and pies, but Schler never ate a bite. A protest, perhaps, I inquired. If you don't mind me asking, you never eat, so why do you come here? I've not many places to go, said Schler. My spaceship malfunctioned, and I ended up stranded far from my home planet. My ship is beyond repair. I'm stuck here for now. What brought you so far from home? I asked as my burger arrived.

I was surveying planets for real estate development opportunities. Luckily, on the planet on which I was stranded, I found a doorway to this diner. Killing time here, I spoke with patrons and discovered hundreds of viable locations for real estate. This information is worth a fortune to my company. Ironically, my only way of getting back to them is by hitching a ride when their next surveyor comes through. Of course, then he'll claim the bounty for my findings.

It's a cruel corporate world. Shame you can't get back. Right. I'd be rich beyond my wildest dreams. business is never easy. You mentioned before that this place was just a business like any other. What did you mean? He closed his newspaper and crossed his legs with the scraping sound of shell on shell.

This isn't business, he said. It does what every business does. It preys on the people. It skims off the excess emotions, right? Hmm, no. It does a lot more than that. I spied on Freddy, laughing away with his customers on the other side of the diner. What do you mean? I asked Schler as I took a huge bite of my deliciously greasy burger. The emotions aren't enough to keep this place running. They might supply the power, but where do you think your food comes from? Welcome to aboard, Viarai.

Embarked and profited. Embarked and relaxes. Syrotay. Bookiné. Oh, that also. And profite. Viarai, the voice that we love. I looked at the half-eaten burger in my hand and stopped chewing.

At that moment, the three excited kids came rushing up to the bar for their ritual milkshake. Instinctively, I gulped, swallowing my food. I can't lie. It tasted heavenly. Seeing my enjoyment, Schler raised his pink whisker eyebrows again, then returned to his newspaper, shaking his head with his characteristic slowness. Freddie was quick to intercept the kids at the bar, where they were engaged in their usual frantic discussion of whipped cream, toffee sauce, and sprinkles.

Have I got a special treat for you today? Freddie said, clapping his hands together to grab their attention. Out back, I've been working on some new milkshake recipes that I think you guys are going to love. Would you like to be my special milkshake tasters today? The kids sat upright, heads unconsciously nodding before their mouths could answer. Yes! Freddy gestured to the kitchen door, and the kids jumped off their barstool so fast, Freddy had to catch one of them from hitting the floor.

He followed them into the kitchen. I sat there staring at my half-eaten burger, questioning its potential origin, yet incessantly tempted by its juicy meat, tangy salsa, and crunchy toasted bun. Couldn't they just be ordering in the kitchen supplies, like a normal diner? I said, turning to Schler. He didn't look up from his newspaper. With what money? He said. He was right.

No money was taken here. How could I have been so naive to have not seen this contradiction until now? I looked at the kitchen door until my food went cold and waited for the kids to return. They never did. I left the diner. The next day, as I sat at the bar in my usual spot before the neon's serving happiness sign, Freddy clicked his fingers and pointed at me, saying, hamburger and fries?

No, uh, no thanks, I said. Just coffee today, please. Sure thing, he said, grabbing the coffee pot. As he poured into my cup, I felt the urge to pry. Haven't seen those kids who are mad about the milkshakes today. They're usually here this time, aren't they? Freddy smiled, continuing to pour. On holiday, he said.

May I ask you a question? I said, with Mr. Spittles' warning ringing in my ears. This is a passive investigation. Just observe. Don't get involved. You can ask me anything, said Freddie with a smile. I persevered. How about the other day? When your hat fell off, what was that?

Ha! Thought you'd ask about that. This hat, he tapped his hat. Creates the illusion of Freddy's diner. It's what allows me to appear to my patrons in the form which most pleases them. You saw my real form, but now, to you, I appear human, right? I nodded. This helps me to create a comfortable experience here for everyone.

It also translates everything into your native language and gives me executive control of the diner's functions, the interior design, the kitchen, the skimming of emotional energy, so I can make this place as enjoyable as possible. But what is this place? What was it that we saw when the illusion dropped? It's my ship, he said. But in its true form, it can elicit much positive emotion from people.

So, I transformed it into Freddy's. But what's your purpose for doing all this? I asked. To make you happy, he beamed, then promptly strode off towards the kitchen. calling back to me as he went. Gotta turn off the oven. Be right back in a minute to answer all of your questions. He didn't come back. I finished my coffee, then laughed.

The next time I saw Schler was about a week later. By now, the glowing neon serving happiness sign seemed like a twisted joke. Freddy stood before us, polishing a glass. I looked at Schler. Still waiting for your company's next surveyor to come through? Yep, said Schler. Shame you have to lose your commission for finding those new locations.

But I guess it's a necessary evil to get home. Yep, he repeated. Once Freddy moved away, I whispered to him. I've seen those three kids all week. Not since Freddy took them into the kitchen. Again, he raised his pink whisker eyebrows, but said nothing. At that moment, a young human couple came skipping into the diner, holding hands.

Hey, called the girl. Do you have apple pie? We're dying for apple pie, added the boy. Freddy smiled. Well, it just so happens that I've got a batch of experimental apple pies, just crisping up in the oven as we speak. Would you like to be my special tasters and tell me what you think of them? The couple snapped their heads around to look at one another, eyes wide and disbelief at their luck.

Yes! They both yelled, jumping on the spot. Yes, yes! Follow me, said Freddy, as he led them through the kitchen doors. Someone needs to do something, I said. Schler slowly turned to me, said, You know, without his hat, he's powerless. You've seen him.

I remembered Freddy's true form, soft and squishy, like an unborn kitten. kitten and then looked at Schler, armored and interlocking plates of shell. Couldn't you just take it by force? I asked. I'm too slow, he said, creakily bringing his coffee up to his mouth. But you could swipe it. He wouldn't expect a thing, Mr. Spittle's words echoed in my ears. Passive observation. But then, at that very moment, who knew what was happening to that lovely young couple back there in the kitchen, who knew what happened to those three little kids. I thought about all the burgers I'd eaten at Freddy's, and become filled with anger and disgust. How do we do this? I said to Schler. Just ring the bell, he said. Then, when

Freddie comes, you take his hat, and he'll be helpless. Then what? I asked. Then whatever you want, he said, run away, kill him, or take him prisoner. That's up to you. Whichever way, without his hat, his whole operation comes to a halt. Then it would be for the best, wouldn't it? I asked. For the best, confirmed Schler. What if things go wrong? I said. Then we leave. I can protect you. I looked at the kitchen door, then to the service bell that sat on the bar, then to Schler. He raised his pink whisker eyebrows. I rang the bell. Freddy came back through the kitchen door, careful to not open it too widely so nobody could see inside.

As he approached me saying, what can I get you? I snatched the hat. Instantly, he popped back into his true form and stood there just coming up to the height of my knees. The diner popped back into the silvery, smooth. spaceship interior, and the sounds and smells of the jukebox and the food all vanished. Gorgleismrigan out first, cried Freddy, now speaking in his alien tongue. He jumped up and down, trying to reach for the hat in my hand. Smuggler, Smuggler, Smuggler! Then I felt the hat snatched from my hand. I turned to see Schler holding it, raising it up, and slowly lowering it

over his head. Smigler first, yelled Freddy, turning and running to the door that it led to the kitchen. He opened it and yelled inside, waving the young couple to come out. Then Freddy turned to the other diners and frantically waved them all towards the exit. In a panic, the patrons all jumped up and started running for the exit. But as the young couple came out of the kitchen and the patrons all ran for the exit, Schler placed the hat firmly atop his head and everyone in the room fell to their knees on the smooth, silvery floor. I too dropped to my knees, feeling all the energy sucked out of me. Schler laughed. He was draining all of us. Freddie's spaceship began to vibrate and hum with the energy it had taken from us. With a hat, now atop a head, Freddie's

words became once again translated into English. You're absorbing too much! He cried at Schler. You're going to blow the fuse. Quiet, said Schler. I need every drop to get home. Then he looked at me and said, Nothing personal. It's just business. At that moment, the three milkshake mad kids came running through the diner's entrance, screaming with excitement. They really had been on holiday.

Freddie turned to warn them off, but it was too late. As if running into quicksand, they slowed and lulled and sank down to their knees on the smooth silvery floor. But as they dropped, the hat atop Schler's head burst into a blinding, white-hot light and set on fire. Their excitement had blown the fuse. The room flickered between the silvery spaceship and the diner, as if glitching. You little hyperactive brats!

Schler yelled, then slapped the hat off his head. Slowly, I felt the energy returning to me, and I saw the patron starting to stand up and flee. The three kids got up and ran. The young couple scrambled across the diner and out the door. Freddy, Schler, and I remained. Standing up, Freddy looked to me with sorrow in his big blue eyes, as if to say, Why?

His business was ruined. Sparks shot from the terminals and the walls, and the place quaked with energy. Schler crept towards us, muttering incomprehensibly, snapping his claws. I turned and ran, straight out through the diner doors and into the chest of Mr. Spittle. I bounced off him and fell onto my butt, looking up at him. What did I tell you? He said, stick to your mission briefing. Don't go beyond the scope of your job.

But what did you go and do? Come with me. He put his hand on my shoulder. And that was my last ever job with the SEP Foundation. Worse than my termination from the foundation, I now have to live with the fact that I'd brought ruin to Freddie and his diner. I could always find a new job, but Freddy's place was one of a kind, a place of magic, which I destroyed. I often wonder what happened to Freddy, whether he survived and managed to make another diner somewhere.

In the end, it turned out he was only ever serving happiness. SCP-4258 is a retro-American diner from the 50s called Freddy's, which acts as a hub of multiple parallel realities, inside of which beings from alternate worlds can meet to enjoy the finest fast food and most delicious desserts in the multiverse. Lazzange sur-joled, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Pree to enjoy with Leo Jo! Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo!

The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-assed and games of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours gratu on Big Bas Bonanza, without exigance of misgions and with of the payment instantane. Hey, I've gained. Woo-hoo! Senture the pleasure. Play-O-Joe!

18-year-depos only, exclude in Ontario. 50 tours gratu on the machine a sub-soubeckbas Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. Depeas I'm in a way to be a responsible. The conditions

apply.