The SCP Experience - The Adventures of— | SCP-1893

Episode Date: February 6, 2023

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-1893: The Adventures of— This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1893, 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

Move! I shouted my assistant. Faster! She makes no reply, aside from a frightened grunt. Her flashlight beam bounces around the dark tunnel, shining on the unused train tracks and the fallen chunks of rock. Limping along behind her, I carry a shotgun. I have a headlamp on, but it's on the fritz,

flickering on and off. My calf stings where the beast tore into me with its claws. How could I be so arrogant, so stupid? I discounted the tales whispered in the surrounding villages as superstition. I shrugged off the warnings delivered by old, frightened men with bulging eyes and rancid breath. The creature roars somewhere in the dark behind us. It's bellow, seeming to shake the entire tunnel. Mina glances over her shoulder, wide blue eyes teeming with tears.

Look out! I shouted her, seeing the stone she's about to step on. She whips her head back around, but not in time. She turns her ankle as she steps on the rock, crying out as she crashes to the ground next to the train tracks. The booming footballs of the pursuing creature resonate in my core, like thunder after a nearby lightning strike. As I lean down to gather Mina up, I notice a small gap in the tunnel wall just to our right. It looks like it's big enough to fit us. There, I say, pointing with one hand, while grabbing her around the waist to help her forward.

She crawls into the gap, and I follow quickly. behind. After five feet, the small passage opens up into a cave about ten feet in diameter. There are two other passages leading from the cave. And although they're both larger than the one we came through, I don't think they'll accommodate the creature. We stop, listening hard. Something changes in the air. A subtle shift. I can no longer hear the booming footsteps of the ancient and massive creature our little treasure hunt as unearthed. Did you feel? My word cease, like I've suddenly forgotten how to talk.

My brows furrow, and I try to speak again. I can't. Mina, young, blonde, and pretty, stares at me from where she sits across the cave. Her skin-tight long-sleeve shirt and jeans are smeared with dirt. She scrambles over and sits next to me, grabbing hold of my arm. I shift the shotgun out of the way to let her. She opens her mouth to speak. To ask me if we're going to survive, probably.

Item number SCP 1893, she says. Before I can think of what the hell she's talking about, I answer her. Object class, Euclid. What the hell did I just say, I think? What does Euclid mean? It's like something has taken over. Like I'm a puppet in my own body. Special containment procedures?

Mina asks, putting her head on my shoulder as a tear runs down her dirty cheek. All stories containing. or referencing SCP 1893, I say, are to be contained in the tertiary mainframe at Site 38 until such time as Foundation researchers discover a method of transferring them without risking contamination to other computer systems. Multiple redundant stories are to be kept on the mainframe at all times.

What is happening? I scream in my mind, but I'm unable to do the same with my mouth. The words just keep coming out. They're in my voice, but they're not mine. I haven't generated them in my mind. They're coming from somewhere else. Should SCP 1893 begin displaying aggressive or otherwise unusual behavior?

Additional new stories written in the style used by SCP 1893 are to be downloaded onto the computer. I tell Mina. Hard copies of all stories before and after SCP 1893 infestation are to be kept in the director's office in a triple-locked safe. No other copies are to be kept in any other location. in any other form to avoid possible contamination. To whatever extent possible, discussion of SCP 1893 is to be restricted to non-electronic

means, and references to item number SCP 1893 are to be prohibited on any foundation server or computer other than the one mentioned above. Mina raises her head and looks up into my eyes, like I've just confessed my love to her. She extends her head toward me. I meet her halfway, and we kiss for a long moment. The sound of someone shouting interrupts our intimate moment, and I look up to see a figure coming through the largest of the crevasses leading to the cave. Mina shines her light into the passageway, revealing a massive, muscular man.

He's bald, with horn tattoos on his forehead and sweeping back onto his skull. He stares at us with plain hatred as he pushes through the rocky crevasse. is huge shoulders scraping the sides. I pushed Mina toward the passage we came through. She goes, rushing on all fours back out into the abandoned tunnel. As I follow behind her, the man reaches in and grabs my leg, yaking me back into the cave. As I flip over onto my back,

he's raising his basketball-sized fists up to slam them down into me. I raise my shotgun and blast him in the chest. He stumbles back, but I don't wait around to see if he's dead. I flip over, and scramble back out into the tunnel where Mina waits. Getting up to my feet, we continue running. Now both of us are limping, thanks to Mina turning her ankle. Description?

Mina asks, breathless. SEP 1893 is an incompletely understood phenomenon, believed to be electronic or digital in nature, I say. The phenomenon has demonstrated at least a primitive sort of intelligence in the form of adapting to new environments and avoiding inhospitable ones. It has a rudimentary ability.

to communicate with foundation researchers, albeit indirectly. It is not known whether the entity is sapient or even sentient. What the hell is happening to me? I don't have any idea what I'm even talking about. None of this makes sense. Risking a glance over my shoulder, I verify that the creature from earlier is nowhere to be seen. But as I'm looking, a portion of the wall where Mina and I came through

busts out as if from an explosion. The hulking man rushes out amid the chaotic spray of rocks, turning to look after us. His chest is bloody from where I shot him, but he doesn't seem to be seriously hurt. He just busted through a wall of stone after all. I want to scream, to speak a line of gibberish just to prove that I'm still in control of my actions, my words, but I can't. Instead, my mouth starts working on its own again as I turn my attention forward. SCP-1893's principal trait is its memetic quality. It is impossible to perceive, interact with, or discuss the entity except through fictional narratives.

Specifically, any electronic message referring to SCP 1893 will be altered by the entity into a prose passage of variable length, tongue, or content. My eyes go wide. Fictional narratives? But before I can process this, I'm talking again. However, messages altered by SCP 1893 will always have certain constant qualities. First, the content of the original message will be left intact, replacing any dialogue between characters and the story. Second, stories will often contain between two to three characters. While the dialogue between them will remain constant, the setting and tone of the characters and their surroundings are believed to often reflect SCP 1893's mood at the time of access.

Third, components of the story's plot may change depending on whether or not SCP 1893 can determine the identity of the identity of the story's mood at the time of access. of the story's plot may change depending on whether or not SCP 1893 can determine the identity of the reader. The researchers have been unable to detect a pattern in the modifications to date. No, I think. No, it's not possible. I'm not a fucking fictional character. I'm... A man appears ahead of us in the tunnel, carrying a machine gun. He wears a scally cap and sports red suspenders over a sleeveless t-shirt. His bushy-black mustache sits over a sneering mouth with an unlit cigar protruding from it. At first, the man is a stranger to me.

I'm certain I've never seen him before. But then something clicks in my head, and I know all about him. He's Bullet Bronson, my best friend and confidant. Our years of adventures flashed through my head like they've always been there. Go! Bullet shouts at us around the cigar, racking the slide back on the machine gun. I got the bastard! As soon as Mina and I moved past him,

He fires the machine gun at the hulking man chasing us. There's daylight coming through from a doorway up ahead in the tunnel, the way we came in. Mina rushes through the doorway and outside, but I stop and look back. Bullets backing up as he fires at the crouching monstrosity. It looks like he has it under control. Come on! I shout at him. Let's go! Bullet nods his head like he's hurt me.

I turn and make it outside to the open-top jeep sitting in the wooded clearing. The eastern European sun shines down through the thin cloud cover. The mountain air is crisp. I jump into the driver's seat of the Jeep, lying the shotgun across my lap, while Mina gets in the front. As we wait for Bullet to join us, I talk again. Lastly, all instances of stories altered by SCP 1893 will contain an unknown character, described as being unusually tall and muscular, often said to have tattoos of bull's horns on or near the face.

The extent to which this character interacts with the others is often indicative of SCP 1893's level of aggression at that moment. When the entity is calm, the character will barely be referenced or discussed. When SCP 1893 feels threatened or is prepared to attack, the character will display an increasingly important or central role to the story's plot. It's not real, I suddenly comprehend. I'm not real. This is all bullshit.

Some hack writer's idea of entertainment. But then another thought comes to me. If this was a normal story, where the good guy beats the villain and gets the girl, then it wouldn't be such a bad life. I could live like that, no problem. But this isn't normal. If it were, I wouldn't realize I'm in a story.

It has been hijacked by whatever the hell SCP 1893 is. What does that mean for me? Do I still get to live? To ride away in the sunset. The gunfire suddenly stops from inside the tunnel. Bullet Bronson screams, and then there's a sickening crunch. Turning to look at the access doorway we went through, I see bullets' broken body come flying out,

hitting the ground next to the Jeep like a rag doll. Attendum 1893-A, Mina says. I can feel the words coming, and somehow I know, with every fiber of my being, that if we get to the end of this description, I will die. That thing will get me. This is its story, not mine.

No, I think. No more. I grip the steering wheel with both hands and rock myself forward as hard as I can, slamming my mouth into the wheel. My teeth shatter, but it doesn't keep me from talking. No effort undertaken to date has succeeded in fully containing SCP-1893, I say, pulling my pocket knife out and opening it. All evidence suggests that the foundation's decision,

I grab my tongue with my left hand. It squirms like a slimy slug trying to get away, but I hold tight, bringing the knife up. The pain is breathtaking, but I get it done, cutting through the muscle until I hold my tongue out in my bloody left hand. Mina looks over at me. Her cheeks are soaked in tears. Behind us, I can hear the massive man coming out of the tunnel.

All evidence suggests, Mina says, picking up where I left off. That the foundation's decision to classify the entity as such has caused it to adopt this as its name and react specifically to any mention of that item number in electronic media. No, I think again. God damn it, no! Assuming this to be true, she continues.

A theoretical plan has been devised in the event that termination of SCP 1893 should become necessary. I raise my shotgun, pointing it out her. According to this plan, Foundation personnel would first... I pulled the trigger, blasting Mina out of the Jeep with a shot. There, it's done. No more people to talk. No way to end this story.

A huge hand clamps on my left shoulder. I turn to look up into the massive man's eyes under the horn tattoos. As his other hand comes up and grabs me around the neck, I have time to think one last thing. This is your fault. It's your fault for listening to this story. Without an audience, there is no sense. There is no story.

Just words on a page. Words spoken into nothingness. It takes someone to listen, to understand, to put the words together. Of course, there must be an end to this story. There must be. Because you're listening. It's you. You have killed me.

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