The SCP Experience - The Infinite IKEA (Part 2) | SCP-3008

Episode Date: June 29, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-3008: The Infinite IKEA (Part 2) This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3008, 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

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of a way responsible. The conditions apply. I'm speaking to you from inside SCP 3008, also known as the Infinite IKEA. I've entered this endless homeware store as an SCP agent, assigned to find my missing colleague, Agent Ophelius, who'd become lost in the infinite bathrooms,

bedrooms, and kitchens' departments. However, as per my previous account, I soon found a better life here, in the Meatball Kingdom than I ever had on the outside. Just know that inside SCP-308, I've found that the lost shoppers here had, over decades, formed a civilization to survive inside the infinite IKEA. The flat-pack fortress, safe from the monstrous IKEA staff who attack each night. The staff wore the usual blue pants and yellow shirts of IKEA, and during the day were placid. They busied themselves by pushing trolleys or climbing stepladders to reach boxes.

But they were somehow wrong. Their bodies were out of proportion. Legs too short and arms too long. They waddled in an inhuman way. Each creature's head was misshapen and lacked facial features. Their hands were as big as shovels. If you met one during the day, they'd use those hands to bend and fold and snap your body

in an effort to flat pack you like any other item of IKEA furniture. Worse, if you killed one, the corpse would attract more of their colleagues. But the terrors of the staff were countered by the camaraderie of the shoppers, by uniting under the Meatball King and erecting the Flatpack Fortress, assembled from various home furnishings and furniture, stacked and slotted together. The lost shoppers had carved out quite an existence, and built a civilization safe from the staff.

As crazy as it was, I felt more community and belonging here than I ever did working for the SCP Institute on the outside. So, after meeting a man called Shaggy Rugg, leader of the guards, I decided to reject my mission of finding Agent Ophelius. Instead, I found purpose serving with Shaggy on the walls of the Flat Pack Fortress. Although this cost me my connection with the SCP Institute, they cut me off and tried to kill me. So it's safe to say that my career as an SCP agent came to an end.

However, while defending a breach in the wall, I earned my new title, Toilet Brush. I became an honored guard. Thanks to the actions of Shaggy and myself, the walls held. But we had to be stretched away from the battle. Days later, once healed, I was invited back to the king's court, as I was called forth. Step forth, Toilet Brush! The entire court took to their knees, and the king slotted a third Allen wrench into my headband. alongside the other two.

Each Allen Wrench indicated a level of status within the Meatball Kingdom. I had just earned the highest privileges. For your courage, I grant you nobility within the Flatpack Fortress.

Now, what will you do next? Asked the Meatball King. Pursue your search for your missing colleague, or stay here with us. I'm not sure yet, I said, but I do know one thing for certain.

You can't spell few, without furniture. This popular cultural mantra got a cheer from the King's Court, but inside me I knew what I would do next. Not because I had any remaining allegiance to the SCP Institute, but because I had some unanswered questions. I wanted to complete my original mission of finding Agent Ophelius, though I no longer had any intention of returning to the outside world with my findings. The breach in the wall, which nearly cost my life, was no accident. Someone had placed a corpse of of the IKEA staff inside the wall where I was posted. The corpse attracted more staff to my posting, causing the breach. It was blatant sabotage. If someone was trying to kill agents

like myself who were sent inside SCP-308 to rescue people, perhaps they'd tried killing Agent Ophelius too. That would explain his absence. Or maybe he's chilling on a deck chair somewhere, eating Swedish meatballs and watching the battle from afar. Either way, I had a find out. Aphelius was my only lead. On our last day of rest, before returning to our posting as guards on the flat pack fortress's walls, Shaggy Rugg and I were sitting in the tavern. A collection of kitchen islands where fermented fruit from the cafeteria was used to serve various types of potent booze to the guards, presented in IKEA's finest glassware. Shaggy turned to me and asked, Will you return to the walls with me, toilet brush? Shaggy.

While lying in the medic tent all this time, I've only had one thing on my mind, I said. The corpse? The corpse. Who put that there in the wall? Right under us. It was no accident. You saw it. It was wedged right in there, hooked like bait.

I agree. But what can we do? We have no leads. Someone tried to kill me, Shaggy, I said. We have to do something. Or maybe next time they'll be successful. Why don't you just leave? He asked.

Go back. to safety. I produced my exit locator, a small compass-like object, which the SCP Institute had given me, so that I could find my way back out of this place. I held it up to him. It's broken, I said. It got broke during the Battle of the Breach. Without it, it could take me years to find an exit. Shaggy said nothing, but took the exit locator into his hands and began turning it over and over. The same thing that Standing Mirror used to carry with him, said Shaggy. What? Standing Mirror? I asked. Who's that? He joined us after we found him living alone outside the fortress, like you.

He had one of these, but never told us what it was. Maybe he can help you find your missing colleague. I immediately asked Shaggy for a description of Standing Mirror's appearance. Shaggy, I said. I think standing mirror is my missing colleague. What happened to him? Damn, really? Well, true to nature, he went missing, never showed up to his posting on the wall. Haven't seen him since.

Shaggy, don't you see? Ophelius was sent here on a rescue mission, then mysteriously vanished. I was sent here on a rescue mission. Then someone tried to get rid of me. Something fishy is going on here. You think someone wants to keep you and your colleagues out of the Meatball Kingdom? That would make sense, but now we're just guessing. We need to investigate.

Where was Ophelius last scene? Shaggy laughed. You're talking about 20 reassemblies back. The Flatpack Fortress was disassembled, moved along, and reassembled each day. To keep it moving away from the corpses of the staff who died, attacking the fortress's walls each night. But we've kind of gone around in a loop, he continued. So you'll just need to scout over maybe 50 departments to the west. I'm not sure, though.

best to check with the Scouts. Will you come with me? I asked. It could be dangerous. I have a job here, he said. Plus, outside the fortress walls, the Scouts are your best bet at survival. They'll take care of you. You've already met Bottlerack, the leader of the Scouts, right? Yes, I said.

Bottlerack had found me when I first arrived in SEP 2008. He was the one who tied my wrists together and brought me before the king. We've met. Well, that'll take care of you, and to be double sure, I want to give you this. Shaggy held out a Stanley knife, then used his thumb to protrude, then retract the blade. This is handy if you get caught in close quarters. It was my mentors before he passed it down to me. And now, I'm passing it down to you.

So you'll remember your time with the guards. How could I ever forget? I said. Later that day, I tried to track down bottle rack, walking all of the other. over the flat-pack fortress. Interlocking tables, chairs, desks, and bookcases stacked and slotted together, formed the outer walls of the fortress.

Atop the walls stood guards who wielded lawnmower blades like simiters. Inside the walls, little buildings were constructed from sofas and bed sheets, and I came to a courtyard where a crowd of citizens had gathered around a man stood atop a coffee table, wearing a tall lampshade atop his head. Slotted into the lampshade were dozens of aliasias

Wrenches. The crowd bowed their heads as the bishop declared, "'Akea, who art around us, hallowed be thy name. Thy pamphlets come, instructions done, in bedrooms as it is in bathrooms. Give us this day our wheelie-trolley, and give us our Allen-Renches, as we give Alan Wrenches to those who join us, and lead us not into exchanges, but deliver us from returns. Amen.'" The crowd echoed. Amen! Then slowly dispersed, returning to their business within the fortress walls.

These people bore a peculiar array of injuries, arms and slings, missing limbs, and many paraplegics using rolling office chairs as improvised wheelchairs. I'd learned that there were so many injuries because the IKEA staff don't just attack. They try to fold people. They try to flat pack you, bend and twist your limbs. and stuff you in boxes or store you on the shelves. I passed the crowd and proceeded up a winding staircase made of deck chairs to a mezzanine platform of thatched bed slats, the king's court.

I could find bottle rack, the scout leader here. When I arrived, the king had just finished addressing the senior members of his court and was walking back into his large marquee made of living room curtains. He was a pot-bellied man with spectacles, wearing a crown with countless, Allen wrenches protruding from it, and a cape of silk bed sheets flowing off his narrow shoulders. He held the pole of a tall standing floor lamp as a staff, and used it to aid his walking back into his marquee. At that moment, the bishop with the lampshade hat, full of Allen wrenches, ascended the desk chair staircase, and stood in the center of the court. He raised

a hand up to the sky. From the fluorescent hanging aisle lighting to the deliciously salty meatballs of the cafeteria. IKEA provides. IKEA guides. Have faith in IKEA and lo! We ask of IKEA. Keep us steady and balanced with a piece of folded cardboard

under our shortest leg. Let us not hide our instruction pamphlets by sitting on them. And may the original packaging remain with us until the warranty expires. He lowered his hand, then gestured his deacons to take around the donation pot,

which was a very good. champagne bucket from kitchens. Please support your community to pay the due respect and worship to our great IKEA. All proceeds are going to the church of infinite warranty. Stood watching the bishop with a skeptical eye was bottle rack. As the bishop departed the court to descend back down the staircase, bottle rack relaxed his shoulders and turned away. He saw me. Toilet brush, he called. I heard about your actions on the wall with shaggy rug, but I didn't have a chance to congratulate you on your third Allen wrench yet. Well done. But I have to get some credit, right? For recruiting you into the Meatball Kingdom. He too had three Allen wrenches in his headband, though his scouts,

who presently came running up to Perch next to him in a huddle, all had only two Allen wrenches. What can I do for you? He asked. I feel like I owe you one after the rough treatment we gave you. I explained to him about my desire to track down the missing agent of Phelius, known in the Meatball Kingdom, a standing mirror, in an effort to uncover more information about the plot to kill me. Standing mirror? Yes, I remember him. We lost him 18 reassemblies back. A few departments west from here. There was no search party issued by the King's Court, so we didn't investigate. But I remember the location of the site. I'd guessed he just decided to leave us. I think it was something more than that, I said.

Ophelius came here before me, then went missing without explanation. When I came, someone tried to get rid of me. If we can find Ophelius, maybe we can find some answers about what's going on. Bottle rack turned a look at his scouts and back at me. Well, he said, we're heading west today on our patrol. We could stretch out our route a bit and bypass the site where we lost Ophelius. You might find something there. Great, I said, let's go.

Instacart knows that some people go bananas about getting the perfect, well, banana. Some want them green, some want them ripe, some want them ready right when they hit their doorstep. But with Instacart's preference picker, available at most retailers, you can choose to get your groceries just the way you like. That means perfectly right bananas, deli meat sliced just the way you want, and avocados that aren't still hard as a puck in the third period. So don't cross your fingers and hope for the best. Download the app and get groceries just how you like with Instacart. The Scouts walked me to where they'd parked their wheelie trolleys, which we boarded. They propelled the trolleys like large skateboards,

expertly cornering around the shelves and skidding over the tiles of the display bathrooms, as we headed westwards through model bedrooms and garden furniture displays. Here we are, said bottle rack, pointing to a large clearing, where previously the Flat Pack Fortress had been assembled. I took the binoculars from around his neck, ran over to a dining table display, climbed atop it, and looked out around the sight. Everything seemed normal until my eyes caught a cardboard box stacked atop a shelf. Its bottom half was stained red.

As we lowered the box down from the top of the shelf, it hit the floor with a wet thud. I used Shaggy's Stanley knife to slit open the box, and a hot waft of foul air knocked us all back. Inside the box, wrapped in cellophane and folded up into a position so unnatural that it necessitated the breaking and dislocating of most of his bones, Agent Ophelius' body lay there, crumpled and rotting. I pinched my nose and slid open the cellophane that mummified the smell intensified. Inspecting his corpse, I saw Agent Ophelius was still wearing the same clothes and in possession of the same items that the The SCP report said he'd entered this world with.

All except one thing. One thing was missing, his exit locator. The thin chain which hung the exit locator around his neck was snapped. Had it been taken by force? Why would the staff steal your colleague's exit locator? Asked Bottlerack, as his crew searched for it under tables and behind cabinets. I don't think this was the staff, said a scout approaching us. Didn't you see the body?

asked Bottle Rack. Yes, replied the scout. But look at this. He held out a blood-stained cut-out section of the cardboard box that was used to store Ophelius. All over it, red fingerprints were stamped. Bottle Rack inspected it. The fingers that packed this box were too small to be from one of the staff,

he said. These are human fingerprints. Yes, sir, said the scout. We've collected samples as evidence, but no sign of the exit located. I'll keep this one then, said bottle rack, folding the cardboard evidence into a satchel. The scout turned to me and said, why would someone... A garden fork speared through his chest.

Someone grabbed me from behind and slam me down on the floor. Bottlerak yelled, yelped and fell next to me. I heard a loud thud against my skull, and everything went black. When I woke up, I couldn't move my arms or legs. At first, I thought I was paralyzed, but then when I opened my eyes, I saw that I'd been wrapped in cellophane, with my arm stuck to my sides. Next to me on the floor was bottle rack and his scouts. All also cocooned in cellophane. I told you not to use your weapons, you fool, said a voice from behind me.

It needs to look genuine. Now he's got four forkholes through his damned chest. I couldn't see the speaker and couldn't turn to see them. But facing me, Bottlerack looked over my shoulder to the speaker. Then he looked back to me. It's the Church of Infinite Warranty, he whispered. Then I saw Bottlerack quickly close his eyes and pretend to be unconscious as a deacon of the church walked past.

A hammer was swinging from his tool belt. I checked myself to find that my weapon, of Oxlova table leg, $189.59 from dining, was missing. We'd all been disarmed, but with my hands stuck to my thighs. Inside my cellophane cocoon, I could feel that inside of my pocket was the Stanley knife which Shaggy Rug had gifted me. The voice behind me continued, The bishop said to do it like we did with Standing Mirror.

Break their necks and fold them up so it looks like the doing of the staff. No weapons, I told you. Checking myself further, I noticed that my exit locator I'd been taking. from around my neck. The store's speakers wind into tune. The store will close in five minutes. Please make your way to the nearest exit. Bottle rack's eyes opened in panic.

Five minutes until lights out. The voice behind me said, Time to do this. Then I saw them come around into view to push a trolley carrying a fridge into our midst. They opened the fridge door, and a dead staff member dropped out onto the floor. Its giant arm flopped out to land across my chest,

and I could feel the pressure of its weight on my lungs. The speakers whined. The store is now closed. Please make your way to the nearest exit. The lights went out, plunging us into blindness. In the distance, I could hear shuffling. Was it the staff coming for their fallen colleague? Let's get out of here, said the bishop,

before boarding the trolley and having the deacons push it from behind. They fled down the aisle back towards the flat-pack fortress. The shuffling in the shadows grew louder. Then I saw the silhouettes of the staff approaching down the aisle. They murmured in unison. The star is now closed. Please make your way to the nearest exit. I scrambled in my pocket for shaggy Stanley knife,

but the cellophane was too tight. I had to flex my fingers with all my strength to move them just a bit. But at my fingertips, I could feel the handle of the knife. The staff stepped closer as my eyes adjusted to the dark. I could see them. They lurched forwards with dumb smiles and arms outstretched towards us, murmuring. The door is now closed. Please make your way to the nearest exit. I managed to wiggle my index finger like a caterpillar until it was over the knife handle. Then one of the staff grabbed a scout by the leg and picked him up as he strained inside his cellophane cocoon. The staff deliberated

in taking hold of each of the scout's limbs, then began to slowly, methodically, fold him in on himself. He screamed. His arms dislocated. His leg snapped inwards at the knees, and his spine was crunched as they flat-packed him. He stopped screaming. Using their knees to pin him down for stability,

they compressed him into a cube, then slotted him onto his shelf, alongside some chrome toasters and kettles. Then they grabbed me. As they picked me up and handed me around, inspecting how they could fold me up best, I managed to pinch my fingertips over the Stanley knife just enough to protrude the blade. It popped through the cellophane.

As the staff laid me down and pinned me to the floor with their knees, I slid up through the cellophane and burst free from the plastic cocoon. They swiped at me, but only came away with a big floppy mess of cellophane, looking at it, confusedly, and turning it over in their hands like some giant shed skin. I ran towards bottle rack and the other scouts, meeting to slit open their cocoons too. But the staff stepped in my way as I tried to sidesteped them left, then right, then left again. I saw more staff coming from behind and began snapping the scouts next, one by one. It was too late for them.

I ran. Coming to the fortress, I saw a poster pinned to the wall, which showed a crudely drawn profile of my face with the word, Wanted, printed across it. In the poster, I'd been described as a treasonous saboteur who intended to destroy the flat-pack fortress. As my eyes scanned up along the wall towards the gate, I saw these posters stuck intermittently every few meters along the wall. Seems like I'm not welcome, I thought. Then retreated back to hide amongst the display bedrooms,

so I could further scan the walls, crouching and sneaking through the various departments. I searched for signs of shaggy rug. Hiding amidst a bathroom's department, I saw him. He stood atop the wall with his back to me, addressing his guards. I needed his attention. So I grabbed the toilet roll from the toilet roll holder and pelted it at him. It bounced off the back of his head and he spun around. I waved up at him.

He froze, turned back to his guards and called. Enemy sighted, move out. Then they dismantled a hole in the wall and began to pour out into the bathrooms department. As I fled laterally along to the next department, I hid inside a wardrobe in bedrooms and waited as I listened to the guards marching past. After they passed, I crept out. A hand slapped on my shoulder. You owe me, said Shaggy Rug.

I turned to see him smiling down at me. I've opened a hole in the wall for you, and the guards are fanning out away from it. We have to move quickly to get you inside. Let's go. I didn't hesitate. And we both turned and ran for the wall, staying low and stepping quietly.

I'm not a saboteur, I said. Of course not, said Shaggy. It makes no sense, but I have to keep up appearances. So once you're in, you're on your own. Thank you, I said. As we passed more wanted posters, Shaggy said, You've really pissed someone off. It's the bishop, I said.

He's the one who killed Ophelius and tried to kill me. He wants the exit locators. The bishop? Screw that guy. I never liked him. I might need your help to expose him, I said. If it's his word against mine, I lose every time. Well, I don't know what I can do.

I've got an idea. I said, as we sneaked through the wall. As everyone except the guard slept, I made my way quietly through the flat-pack fortress, to the courtyard where one could find the church. It was a grand spire of metal, made of TV stands, garden tables, and tent poles, all entangled with chic lighting fixtures,

standing lamps, hanging ceiling lighting, fairy lights, that towered up above the height of the fortress walls. Creeping inside, I made my way to the back where the bishop slept. But as I entered his room and inched closer to his bed, I saw he was not there. The door slammed shut. I turned around.

The bishop stood there, pointing his scepter at me. It was his standing lamp pole with the light bulb removed and the wiring exposed so that it crackled like a taser. He'd been waiting behind the door, where he'd plunged his weapon into an outlet and waited for me. You'll find the church has eyes all over. the fortress, he said, stepping towards me with his crackling electric scepter. Nobody can enter into or move within this place without my knowing it. And your friend, Shaggy Rugg, will pay for his treason,

rest assured. I was no threat to you. Why are you doing this? I asked. No threat? You come here to steal from my flock, and then you say you're no threat? I'm stealing no one. I only came here for Ophelius, but you killed him. Yes, he was another wolf, and the shepherd must protect his flock. He didn't come to kidnap anyone. He only offered them a way out if they took it. And the church cannot abide such a wicked temptation. I won't let you destroy our community. You could leave too. Wouldn't you be happier in the outside world? I'm a goddamn arts major. Do you know the career prospects and social status available to an arts major in the outside? world? Here, I'm the closest thing to a god. So that's what this is all about, said the king,

standing in the doorway, alongside Shaggy Rug. There's no threat to our citizens. Only a threat to your hold on power. Shame on you, Steve. The bishop turned and leapt at the king, stabbing his electric scepter into his chest. The king stumbled back, but then regained his footing, grabbing the scepter, and stared into the bishop's eyes. Nice try, said Shaggy, dangling the unplugged power cord from his hand. He yanked it, pulling the scepter from the bishop's grasp. But you've just lost your power? Shaggy's guards rushed into the room and apprehended the bishop,

who thrashed against them. The king stepped up to him and took pleasure in plucking the many Allen wrenches from the bishop's lampshade hat. I'll let you live, but you'll no longer be welcome in the meatball. All Kingdom, he said. Get rid of him. But it's the middle of the night, said the bishop. This is a death sentence. Release me tomorrow.

This is murder. The king took in a deep breath, then turned to me. What do you think, toilet brush? IKEA provides. IKEA guides. Isn't that what you always said? I asked the bishop. Let's let IKEA decide his fate.

I'll be killed. You know it. Sounds like you're lacking in faith, said she. Shaggy Rugg, then gestured to his men to escort the bishop away. Take Steve to the gate and let him go to be with his great IKEA. As the guards left, it was just me, Shaggy, and the king remaining in the bishop's quarters. The king walked over to the bishop's bed, reached under the pillow, and withdrew both of the exit locators. I believe these should belong to you, he said, handing them to me.

One lay dead in my hand, but the other one. another one, Ophelius is one, beeped slowly with the pulse of a nearby exit. SCP-308 is a Euclid anomaly. It is otherwise known as the Infinite Ikea. Entering said location results in being unable to leave or having little to know chances of getting out. The anomalies in 2008 are the employees. These creatures have no face and can vary from being incredibly tall to super short. Their arms are incredibly long or super short. They are seen sporting the classic yellow with blue stripes uniform, varying in skin tone. During the day these SEPs are categorized as passive slash safe. However, at nightfall, they are hostile. Some things they have been heard saying are,

excuse me, but the store is now closed. Please exit the building. Along with, the store is now closed. These do not contain much variation to what they say. The SCP-308 employees are incredibly difficult to kill. If one is killed, this will alert other SCP-308 employees to the area. If one is killed, it is highly recommended to bring the carcass to a location further from where there is life. There are bases scattered inside of 3008, ranging from very well-built ones to people just trying to survive.

How people keep entering isn't fully known at this time. It has been rumored that 3008 is a door between realities. However, there is no known evidence that has been solidified. SEP 3008 has a replenishing food supply, which seems to restock once weekly. This is not understood why. However, it does prevent death by starvation in most cases. Bathrooms may be an issue within this location. It is likely that they gain their aggressive nature from night, as they are able to

to move at higher speeds during night than day and are hostile.