The SCP Experience - Something is Very Wrong and Very Right | SCP-6021

Episode Date: September 14, 2026

This story is derived from ⁠The SCP Foundation Database⁠ and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0.⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/⁠⁠⁠ Author:  Jake Bible * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The pampas grass dances as the wind whips across the landscape. I can't help but wonder if 6021 is causing the wind. Perhaps a little dramatic effect before our potential meeting. Standing at the boundary of 6021's domain, although it has claimed that all existence is its domain, I study the acres of vegetation currently bending east as the wind blows in from the west. It's just pampas grass.

grass, those thick clumps of large green blades with the puffy plumes sticking straight out of the center, or would be sticking straight up if the wind wasn't blowing them sideways. Shielding my eyes against the rising sun, I step into the acreage and walk toward what I perceive to be the center. Instantly I feel something. A tangle at the back of my neck, a light fluttering in my belly, a whisper in my ear. Taking several long, slow breaths. I keep walking toward my goal, the priest, or whatever he is. When I find him, he is sitting cross-legged on a ratty mat woven from blades of pampas grass. The puffy plumes have been dried and woven amongst the blades, giving it a surprisingly comfy appearance.

The man's eyes are closed, but I can see a slight upturn of his mouth. I assume he knows I am here. Good morning, he says without opening his eyes. confirming my suspicion. Took you a bit. Did it? I reply, looking about for my own place to sit, but finding none. I remained standing. It expected you yesterday.

It's rarely wrong. But it is wrong sometimes? Everything is wrong sometimes. Not what I was expecting to hear. I thought the anomaly was omnipotent, omniscient. How can something that is all-knowing and all-powerful be wrong? Perhaps it likes being wrong occasionally. Makes it feel real.

Makes it feel true. Isn't wrongness as much a part of existence as rightness? I don't take the bait. I know a useless debate when I hear one. The man before me, mid-30s looking, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a good old boy attitude, opens an eye at my silence. He sighs, opens the other eye,

then extricates himself from his seated position, standing and stretching with a long, satisfied groan. The man's feet are bare, and he doesn't even flinch as he steps off the mat and into the dirt and gravel. I watch him diligently roll up the mat, then tuck it under one of the mounds of pampas grass. Then he bends backward,

placing his hands at the small of his back and cracks his spine. It's like gunshots in the early morning air. Now, Dr. Reneker, what can I do for you? He asks. You can tell me your name. The man smirks, but doesn't say anything. Seriously, we call you 6021-1. That's not much of a name.

No, it's not. He laughs. I raise an eyebrow. It says that you don't need my name, but it understands that you would be more comfortable if I gave you one. Great. Jazz. I'm sorry? Jazz. You may call me Jazz. have questions. I voice none of them. Instead, I nod, then turn in a slow circle, taking in the

landscape. Far off, sits a condominium complex, and as I study it, Jazz comes up next to me. He doesn't interrupt, just lets me observe the incongruous building. It stands out like a sore thumb. It doesn't seem to mind, Jazz says after several minutes. It finds the structure in the inhabitants amusing. Amusing? Amusing? Jazz shrugs. Why amusing? An avalanche just killed 48 people in the Rockies. Sixteen children burned to death in a Mexico city orphanage.

A car accident at 23rd Street and Dalton in Omaha, Nebraska, was averted. It can use the amusement. What is it? Jazz laughs. He rubs his hands together. Take a walk with me, Dr. Reneker. Where, too? Everywhere.

He turns to me, and his eyes are suddenly serious. If you want answers, this is how you get them. His hand grips my bicep. But they will do you no good professionally. Do you understand? No. You will walk. He takes a step.

Two steps. Then he is striding forward, weaving his way amongst the pampas grass clumps. I hurry to catch up. What do I need to? I start to ask. But the rest of my question is lost as I find myself seated on an air. plane. I cry out, and the woman next to me gives me a sympathetic look. Not a fan of flying, she asks. I turn to my seat. I'm on the aisle, so I look up and down, trying to figure out where I am,

how I got here. A hand grips my shoulder, and I cry out again. It's just the woman passenger. She's frowning at me. I have some pills, if you need one, takes the edge off. I shake my head now and try to politely shrug her hand off. Her frown. deepens. She watches me for a moment, then returns to whatever entertainment she has on her phone. Phone. Phone! I slap in my pockets, but my phone is nowhere. A flight attendant notices me shifting around and casually hurries to my seat. Sir, are you all right? Can I get you? She doesn't finish. The plane dips wildly, and she has thrown off her feet. Even with her professional experience and training, she can't stay upright. I watch as her chin hits the edge of an

armrest and blood begins to pour. Her eyes flutter in clothes as she collapses in the aisle. Passengers are shouting, and the pilot's voice comes over the speakers. Folks, we are experiencing some slight turbulence. If you could remain seated until we give the all-clear, that would be great. Before he can continue, the plane takes a sudden nose dive. We are falling at a steep angle, steep enough that the unconscious flight attendant begins to slide down the aisle, her skirt, riding up to show the top of her hose and the pair of tight shorts she is wearing underneath. The passengers are screaming now.

I think I may be screaming too. My knuckles crack as I grip my armrests. The woman next to me has her head between her knees and is praying loudly. The plane continues to dive. The powerful G-forces shove everyone back into their seats. The passed-out flight attendant continues to slide down the aisle in a slow motion descent toward the front of the plane. There's a loud crack and the oxygen masks drop down,

eliciting more screams from the passengers. I look to my ride and see snow-capped mountains, mountains that are way too close to be safe. Race for impact! Race for impact! The pilot shouts over the speakers. I followed the woman's lead and tuck my head between my legs just before we all... I'm tripping and falling onto my hands and knees. The ground beneath me is shaking.

Gasping, I try to stand. But I can't get a footing as the earth tosses me around. So I dropped to a knee and stay that way. until the massive tremors ease slightly. Where am I? A jungle it looks like. What jungle, though? There are lots of jungles across the globe,

or used to be before mass deforestation decimated them all. I'm able to inch my way to a tree and grab hold. A vine hangs down, and I use it to pull myself upright. Once back on my feet, I wrap my hands around the tree trunk until the ground slowly finally stopped shaking. From the way the light plays through the dense foliage, I have to assume there is a clearing a few meters away from me.

I take a tentative step, and when the planet doesn't try to toss me on my ass, I hurry toward the light. I'm not wrong. The trees end abruptly, revealing a hundred acres at least of clear-cut land. Everything has been mown down to a stump. Off in the distance, the trees have been stacked into a massive, haphazard pile, and are burning brightly, a giant cloud of dense smoke lifting up into the sky. But that burn pile isn't the only source of smoke. Beyond the clear cut is a mountain that is spewing black and gray smoke, not to mention

huge spurts of sparks and streams of lava. It wasn't just an earthquake that knocked me down. It was a volcano, an angry, active volcano. I squint into the sun and can see large yellow machines moving quickly on massive tires around the burn pile. Workers are scrambling to climb aboard one of the machines, looking like ants clambering up the side of a toy truck. I take a step into the clear cut when I feel a pressure in my ears, which is quickly followed by a sonic boom that knocks me to my knees. I clap my hands over my ears as the boom comes again. My eyes widen as a massive lava launches straight up into the sky. But it's not just lava. Rocks the size of cars are rocketing through the air. Straight toward the burn pile. Straight toward the rolling machines. Straight toward the

clear-cut, straight toward me. Reaching your audience on Spotify with display ads is easy. Use your existing creative and launch your first campaign in minutes with Spotify Ads Manager. I get up and run back into the jungle, barely able to stay on my feet as the ground

rumbles and shakes under my shoes. A majestic palm to my right is obliterated by a burning rock, a terrestrial comet that turns the tree into a scorched matchstick in the blink of an eye. I switch directions, running perpendicular, particular to the burning tree. More rocks shriek overhead. Several pierce the dense canopy and

destroy more trees. Soon the jungle is filled with fire and smoke and hundreds of smaller rocks acting like missiles. I dodge right just before a large fern is vaporized. I dodge left and avoid being squished by a hunk of volcanic rock easily the size of a Prius. My lungs burn from the acrid air. My eyes sting from the encroaching smoke. Then I am off my feet and flying through the air sideways. a tree trunk and I scream as I feel something tear. I collapse onto the jungle floor in excruciating pain as I roll over onto my back and stare up at the flames flitting across the jungle canopy. I see a black spot growing larger and larger until it takes up all of my sight and I fall from the waterfall. My arms pinwheeling while my legs kick into open air. Water rushes all around me, occluding my view

of what is below. It doesn't matter. In two seconds, I find out what is below as I am plunged into churning, frigid water that whips all about me until I am shot forward with the current. My head breaches the river's surface and a gasp. My lungs desperate for oxygen. But no sooner do I get a breath, then I am plunged back under the surface, the powerful current of the raging rapids sucking me below. My body bounces off large rock after large rock. My chest feels like it's going to explode. I see spots before my eyes and darkness is overtaking me.

Then I slam into a rock, and my body slips around. and I'm spit out into a calm inlet. I tilt my face up and breathe and breathe as the current pushes me closer to shore. When I'm able, I get to my feet and laugh at how shallow the inlet is. It's barely above my shins. Stumbling to shore, a collapse on the beach made of rock and sand. I lie on my back and realize that whatever I had torn in the jungle now no longer hurts. What can that be?

I felt the pain. It was excruciating. and I am surprised I can even move. Rolling onto my hands and knees, I slowly get to my feet and check myself over. Brused and bloody, but nothing broken. I wonder where I am? Just as I turn away from the river,

a force slams against my side, and I am sent sprawling several feet away. My ears ring, and I think I have a couple of crushed ribs, so much for nothing broken. Then I hear it, the snuffling, the grunting and growling. A smell reaches my nose, Dank, musky, wild. A bear.

From the sound of it, a big one. I don't even have time to crawl before it is on me. Its giant mob bites into my left shoulder. It shakes me back and forth, then tosses me like a dog toy. I'm airborne for several seconds. Then I'm plunged back into the water. I shove up and gasp for air. I'm still in the inlet.

Better than being in the rapids. Although that semi-comfiting thought is quickly killed when half a ton of weight presses down on my back, bouncing up and down as the bear roars over me. I'm shoved below the surface of the shallow inlet and held there. My face pressed into an inch of smooth river gravel. I try to reach back and slap at the bear. Pain explodes in one of my hands before a terrifying numbness.

I don't think my hand is attached anymore. I'm pressed down harder and harder. I'm almost buried in submerged gravel. The spots return. The tightness in my chest blossoms into intense pain. I thrash and struggle, but there is nothing I can. do, so I finally relaxes the darkness. It's filled with stars. I'm lying on my back and staring up at an impossible view. All I see are stars and stars and stars, no hint of light pollution anywhere.

Pushing up onto my elbows, I realize that I'm on top of a mesa with a vast nighttime desert stretching out below me. More mesas dot the landscape, illuminated by the night sky, which, although the moon is only a quarter full, still provides plenty of light to see by out here. Getting to my feet, I realize I have both my hands. I realize that I am no longer a human pinball with the bruises to prove it. I turn in a circle and inspect myself all over. No bite marks, no burns. I seem to be fine. Down below on the desert floor, coyotes call out in a quick chorus of yips and howls. Some nightbird responds. I turn in a circle and survey the lenscape. It goes on and on and on. Not a sight of civilization anywhere, which is strange. Even on the

far off horizon, I should see some evidence of humanity's scar. Nothing is this desolate, not anymore. There's a scrape of rocks and sand behind me and I whip around. The man comes at me from a low crouch, a blade of some sort in his hands. He slashes, and pain erupts in my thigh as my pants are sliced open, along with an inch of my flesh. I grip my leg and hop back away from the attacker, who has gone back into his lowered crouch. Even at that stance, he shuffles to the side and slowly circles me. Looking about for a weapon, any weapon, I see a fist-sized rock near my right foot, but when I bend to retrieve it, the man is on me. He tackles me around the waist and I'm pinned under him in a flash. His knife, which looks like it's made of

stone and not metal, plunges toward my throat. I'm not much of a fighter, but I managed to get my arm in the way, taking a long gouge for my trouble. Blood drips from my sleeve and onto my face as I struggle to keep the knife at bay. He tries to straddle me, but one of his knees hits my wounded leg and the surge of pain clears my thoughts. I need to win this fight, or I will die. Getting one leg up under him, I shove hard, sending him off balance, and tumbling to the left. I am scrambling away, wincing as the slash in my leg rips wider, but I have no time for pain. The guy is sprinting at me like a wildcat. All I see is his body coming for me, then my hands are under his shoulders, sliding to his chest, shoving up and over as I

collapse backwards into the dirt. He cries out in terror, and his cry gets quieter and quieter until I can no longer hear it. I roll over onto my front and crawl a few feet to the mesa's edge. It makes my stomach do backflips. But despite the vertigo, I look down at the desert floor. I'm so far up. I can't even see the man's body. Then everything comes crashing down. I feel the slashes in my arm and my leg like bright blooms in my consciousness.

But they aren't the worst. No, as I look to my left shoulder, I see the knife embedded up to the wooden hilt. Blood pours from the wound like a kitchen faucet. I know better than to pull it out. But that knowledge is cold comfort, considering the... the rate at which I am already bleeding out. Damn it! Spots are before my eyes again,

and I can feel my body relaxing, slowing down. So I stare up at the stars and... Jump out of the way just before the headlights overtake me! I'm in the middle of a highway! But luckily, there are no other cars, so I'm able to scramble to the shoulder and get my ass to safety. Close one, pal! A voice says, scaring me to death.

I look about and see that a man is leaning against a tree. It's a tall fir tree that reach is far up into the night sky. All around me, the ground is wet, not just damp, but thoroughly soaked. The scent of fresh rain is on the air, mixed with fir and pine and cedar and rich earth. Hey! I say to the guy. My throat is raw and hoarse. I cough a couple of times. Um, hey there. I stretch and look about. Where am I? Where are you? What kind of question is that? The man pushes off the tree and walks right up to me. He's handsome, dressed in a bit of pair of khakis and a polo shirt, he looks a little out of place on the side of this rural highway.

He must notice me studying him, because he grins wide, then points to a spot a few feet away. Car broke down. Been waiting for someone to come by so I can catch a ride. Then you showed up and scared off the first vehicle that I've seen in hours. He licks his lips, looks at me, looks all around, then returns to me. Where'd you come from anyway? One second you weren't there, the next you were. You come out of the forest across the highway or something. something? I have no reasonable explanation, so I just nod. Huh, not much that way. What happened? Out for a hike and get lost? He looks me up and down and smirks. Not exactly dressed for hiking, though. I shake my head. I don't know what to say to this guy. Something about him has me on

edge. I don't know what it is, but my hackles are up. He slaps me on the shoulder. Come on, I'll give you a ride. I have to cough a bit before I can speak. I thought you said your car broke down. He grins, clapping me on the shoulder again. Nah, just overheated. I threw some water in the radiator, and it's been sitting for a while. Should be good enough to get us down the road a bit. Find someone to help you out. I assume you need help, right? Do you have a phone I can use? He cocks his head, and the grin falls away. Sure, back in my cabin. It's only a few miles to the east. No, I mean a cell phone. I need to call my organization and... A what phone? Did you say a cell phone?

Like in a jail cell or something? I blink at him, and it hits me. His clothes had been bothering me. Cackies and a polo. But the styling is all wrong. The cackies have a slight flare at the bottom, and the shirt's collar is just a bit too wide. What year is it?

I'm starting to think that tumble you took maybe knock something loose up in your brain, pal. Where are you? What year is it? Do you even know your name? Yes. Dr. Reneker. Doctor?

Oh, wow, how fancy. I'm about to protest when all I see is his fist coming from my face. It slams into the bridge of my nose and I cry out. Then his other hand is gripping the back of my neck, holding my head still so we can hit me again and again and... And I come to in a dark space that smells of mildew and other things. I catch a strong whiff of urine and feces and the tang of iron. Blinking, I try to swivel my head and look around, but I'm held tight.

I can't even budge. Not my head, not my arms or legs, not my torso. I am paralyzed, completely immobile. There's a single light bulb above me that burns dully. Beyond that, I see rafters. No, not rafters. Support beams. I'm in a basement.

Oh, you're awake. I hear the man by the side of the road say. But we are definitely not by the side of the road anymore. I was worried I gave you too much. We can't all be doctors. His face appears above. looming over me like a grinning specter. He nods, then is lost from sight. I hear him humming to himself as the sound of metallic clinks and clangs echo across the basement. You know, you saved me

a long night, he says, out of sight. I have been waiting forever, and only not one car came by. I had a feeling the evening was going to be a bust. Then you show up, and I instantly knew that someone above was looking out for me. His face is over mine again. God is always on my side. side. I am his righteous angel, his heavenly tool. I am his blade, his knife, his scalpel. He produces a scalpel and waves it around above my face. I'd recoil if I could move. Oh, hey there, pal, it's okay. I see that fear in your eyes, and I can tell you with 100% certainty that what is about to happen to you is fate. It has been preordained. I am on God's mission to free souls, one by one by one. He is gone again.

but not like those false prophets and weak preachers. They know nothing about the true God. They don't hear his voice urging them on, instructing them on what to do and how to do it. Is that a tugging? Do I feel something? He's back. How are you feeling? Give me a thumbs up if you're all good.

He shows me a thumb, a bloody thumb. My bloody thumb, neatly severed from my hand. A drop of blood falls from the severed end. I imagine it must land on my cheek, but I can't feel it. The man widens his eyes, then pops my thumb into his mouth and chews. My stomach has to be rebelling, except that I can't feel that either. He is gone again, but I can still hear him chewing. Then he swallows loudly, more clanging and clinking of metal.

When he returns to my line of sight, he's holding a power saw with a long, slim blade at the end. He squeezes the trigger, and the saw whirrs to life, the blade moving back and forth, back and forth. They say that what separates us from the animals is our opposable thumbs. And since you are down one thumb, that hand of yours ain't worth much more than a squirrel's paw. How about we'd get rid of that for you, pal? I want to scream for him to stop, for him to let me go. But my tongue is a useless glob of flush in my mouth, and my vocal cords are frozen solid. He disappears, and there's more tugging.

Then he's back and waving a thumbless hand in my face. Hello, how's things? He cackles and is gone again. When he reappears, he's not holding a power saw anymore. Now, he's holding a sledgehammer. Usually my guests are female. Not that I have a preference, pal. I'm an equal opportunity angel,

as evidenced by you being here with me right now. But when I have a lady here, I really like to take my time, if you know what I mean. He hefts the sledgehammer over his head. But with the guys, well, I just like to smash and cut and tear and rip for as long as I can. It's fun to see if you can hold out longer than the last. He brings the sledgehammer down to the,

onto my chest. I don't feel any of it, except for some slight pressure. Then it gets extremely hard to breathe. My body shakes despite whatever paralytic he's given me. You know what? I never did get to ask you what the hell you were talking about back there. What's a cell phone? That's just a strange thing to ask for. He brings the sledgehammer down again, and I know he's crushed my ribs, crushed my lungs. The world above me slowly closes into a pinprick. Hey there, given up already? What a bummer, man. I thought you'd be more of a party, pal. I'm awake and jerking about, a bright, warm sun shining down on me. Whoa, there, just relax.

I scrambled to my feet and hold my fists up, ready to fight. Except I'm not in a jungle, or an airplane, or on a mesa. I'm not in a basement with a psycho or being slashed at by some ancient native. I'm standing in the middle of a field of pampas grass, with a condominium complex far off in the distance. Jazz grins at be knowingly. So, how'd it go? It was...

I clear my throat. It was awful. That was just the worst thing I've ever experienced. I blink at him a few times. What happened? Jazz shrugs. It decided to have a chat with you. Probably not the way you would have preferred,

but it doesn't exactly exist the same way you and I do. There was a... I saw... I was in. My blinking continues. He wraps an arm across my shoulder. Relax. Don't even try to explain it.

You can't anyway. At least not to others. It doesn't like gossip. Just think about what happened to you. Now think about how that is happening all across the globe. How it has happened in the past and in the future. But it was so... I can no longer form the words to describe what I witnessed,

what I was subjected to. Here, take a seat. Jazz guides me to a pair of lawn. chairs he has set up. Take a load off. I let him ease me into one of the chairs. My entire body relaxes instantly. Then he takes the seat next to me. Close your eyes. I hesitate. He laughs. Don't worry. You're safe. Plus, you have an agent over there keeping an eye on things, right? I nod and slowly close my eyes. Feel the warmth of the sun. Feel the breeze on your skin. hear the morning doves cooing.

Hear that dog barking way off. I feel the warmth. I feel the breeze. I hear the animals. My body becomes like jelly. I stay that way for a long while. When I open my eyes, jazz is sleeping soundly next to me. I get up, look about, then walk out of the Pampas grass field and over to a waiting black SUV.

I climb into the passenger seat and buckle up as the agent in the driver's seat starts the engine. So, how did it go? He asks as we pull away from the field. I close my eyes, shake my head. It's not something I can explain. You have to experience it for yourself. No thanks. As we drive away, I finally hear it. I hear what is in that field, what jazz is bound to. And it's laughing. SCP 6021 is a five-acre field of native pampas grass, Cordadiria Salawana, located in hill. country near New Brunfels, Texas. SCP 6021 is either the dwelling place or the body of a near, omnipotent and omniscient deity of unknown origin.

SCP 6021 chooses not to speak audibly, but rather communicates through a single priest individual, hereby referred to as SCP 6021-1. It claims that SCP 6021 intervenes frequently in global politics, economics, and ecology. as well as influencing the lives of individuals. SCP 6021 is capable of performing miracles and inspiring elaborate visions that verify these claims. It has demonstrated complete or near-complete control over physics, time, human behavior, anatomy, weather, thermodynamics, and many other phenomena.

SCP-601's desires are currently unclear. Although it exercises extensive influence, patterns and behavior are difficult to establish. It is not motivated by the amassing of offerings, infamy, or followers. It does not act in self-preservation, as it does not consider any human or anomalous activity, including the foundation, one to be a serious threat to itself. SCP-61-1 has attempted repeatedly to explain SCP-6021's nature, But the knowledge is purportedly only accessible through a divine revelation that is both subjective and incommunicable.

A small number of individuals claim to have received the revelation in the course of interacting with SCP-61-1. None of them are capable of relaying their experience. Further research is ongoing. Thanks for listening. Be sure to click that follow button with all notifications on to get notified every time a new episode is released. least. Don't you wish you could just hit skip on the worst parts of your life? You know the same way you can skip an ad? I get it. I'm Siaia and I live in Ice Cove. I've made some questionable decisions that didn't end up the way I planned and today I'm still figuring it out. Somehow things

usually get worse before they get better. Apparently that's how I roll. So bundle up and come along for the bumpy ride. Stream a new episode of North of North Tuesdays on CBC Jim.