The SCP Experience - The Shadow Sculpture | SCP-1806

Episode Date: December 10, 2021

SCP Foundation SAFE class object, SCP-1806: The Shadow Sculpture. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1806, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ 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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Stage one. My hands fidget in nervous anticipation as they lower the covered object onto the scale.

Their dirty overalls and smiles clash with the serious faces and white coats born by myself and my team. We might have needed the laborers to recover the artifact,

but their mere presence feels like an affront to the sterile, bright room filled with scientific equipment. Finally, they leave, laughing and wiping their brows. Now the real work can begin. This is the kind of thing every archaeologist dreams about, a new discovery with unknown origins. The photos from within the depths of the cave offered little detail. The caverns were deep in the mountains.

It was discovered accidentally by inexperienced cave explorers who had wandered too far off the beaten path. The batteries on their phones had nearly died, so the pictures they had taken were few. It was a miracle they had found their way out of the caves and called the university. The realization that the relic came so close to being forever lost in the dark,

Mark makes me shiver. My team huddles around me. They're all quivering with the same nervous energy as we approach the scale. The artifact is nearly a meter tall and just a little under 300 kilograms. Jason, my second, steps forward, but I cut him off and hand him a camera. I stepped forward and pulled the tarp down. The sculpture is of a human head, but the shape is off. The proportion's all wrong. The forehead is elongated, bulbous, and bareheaded. The eyes are vast almonds, all iris without any pupils. The chin is sharp and pointed. The mouth is just a small line with no lips, and it is devoid of any ears. Immediately people start speculating about the cultural origins of the sculpture. Even with my years of experience, I haven't ever seen anything like it. It looks like it was

made of some type of iron. I place my hand on my chin and say nothing as the other doctors and students come closer. I walk around it in circles. Lights from cameras flash and cameras record. Our room is brightly lit so that every detail can be seen. I step into the sculpture's shadow to hide my confusion from the others. There's nothing to indicate where it's from. My hand traces along its cold iron surface. Though it must be thousands of years old, there's no sign of age or where that I have seen on countless other relics. I frown, but excitement bubbles beneath my confusion.

Discoveries like this get you tenure and grants and put you on the cover of magazines. A loud shattering distracts me from my silent revelry. Everyone spins and turns to Marcy, one of the intern. responsible for filming. The camera lies in a mess of broken parts at her feet. Damn, and glare at her. Tell me the thing is, link to the cloud, or whatever you call it. Marcy doesn't respond. Her mouth hangs open, and her eyes widen. She raises a finger and points over my shoulder. Dr. Raisin? She swallows and finds her voice. Look! I turn around and frown. All I can see is my shadow. I open my mouth,

to rebuke the clumsy student, but stop. My shadow moves while I remain still. Its body elongates, as if the sun is moving across the sky at a rapid pace. But we're inside our research facility with no windows or natural light. The fingers of my shadow grow and sharpen, and its head starts to grow as my prominent ears descend. I touched the sides of my head and let out an embarrassed sigh of relief, my body remains unchanged. A chorus of panicked gasps turns me back to the rest of my team. All of them are staring at their shadows as they begin to mutate in images similar to my own. Stage 2. I thought the statue was the most significant discovery of my career, but I was wrong. It is merely the precursor to it. At first, we were able to dismiss

our growing apprehension to tricks of the light. We continued cataloging what information we could from the sculpture. But the longer we worked, the harder it became to ignore the changes around us. Our shadows continued to change and grow. But then other similar forms started to rise from the shadows of our equipment. Our shadows tower above us like gods now. Some are so large that their heads scrape the ceiling. They move independently of us, floating across the room with weight. ease. Occasionally, they will reach a hand toward us as if trying to pick us up. This causes most of my team to shiver and scream. I stare at the shadows as they stare at me, as curious about them as they are about me. And then the whispers started. Sadly, I first dismissed the sounds

as nothing more than nerves from the strange occurrence. But as the shadows grow, so does the volume of the whispers. The words are muffled as if something is covering their mouths, but the voices remain consistent and determined. The only thing stronger than my amazement is my disappointment with my colleagues. They want to go home, they want to call for help, but I forbid it. We're in the midst of something that humanity has never seen before. I'll be damned if I let the weak feelings of those too weak or too inexperienced deprive me of my discovery. I turn on every light to its brightest setting and sit with the shadows.

The whispers grow louder in a melody that I tap my foot along with while ignoring the pathetic whining of the others. Stage 3. I locked the doors and refused to let anyone leave. Hiding from my team was easy after the shadows spread over our vision. I can see nothing now, just the vague outlines of equipment and furniture in the room, and, of course, that of the sculpture. The darker the world around me grows, the more the shadows become clear. Their words are becoming more transparent, although the language is indecipherable.

They are the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. Power emanates throughout the room, no longer able to see. I can sense where the sculpture is. The air is thick where it rests in the center of the room. the voices gather around it. While everyone else huddles together in a shamble of tears and prayers, I alone venture toward the figure. I bump and trip over equipment,

but I'm guided by the songs of the shadows. Eventually, I make it to the epicenter of the room. I stare into the blackness. Familiar shapes begin to form once more against my blindness. It's a portal I realized. a gateway to another world, to where these beings call home. They are legions, and they all sing in that same beautiful, unknowing voice, like a choir of angels. I reach my hand through to the portal, but grasp nothing but air.

It still remains immaterial, but as I watch, the outlines grow more substantial and detailed. It's only a matter of time before we can reach the other side. I share this discovery with the rest of my team, but they only answer in wails and screams. They beg me to let them out. Some threaten and curse my name, and others try to find me and take the keys for themselves. I smile as they crash into each other, hurting themselves while looking for me. They're a disgrace to our field. Here we have discovered a society that exists alongside our own, that has gone entirely unnoticed by the rest of humanity. Yes, we have given up our eyesight, but our perception and wisdom have only grown.

Any archaeologist who isn't willing to sacrifice for discovery should turn in their PhDs. The shadows watch them and laugh, and soon my own laughter choruses along with these divine beings. Stage four. I no longer understand what the rest of my team is saying. I hear the pathetic desperation of the others as the portal grows, more defined, but the words have lost all meaning. To see the world beyond the veil, I had to give up my eyesight. Likewise, I had to give up our language to converse with the beings. How can one even describe their language? Trying to explain would be the same as if trying to explain English to a hummingbird.

We are so beneath their understanding that it's impossible to convey in words. Yet, like the last sacrifice, this one was worth it for the fleetest knowledge of their majestic language. Each word is brimmed with a multitude of thoughts and emotions. A few short syllables can contain limitless awe and power. My attempts at conversations have all failed. I can manage just a few of their words to form through the labored use of my lips and tongue. The shadows laugh at me, but I harbor no embarrassment or resentment. It's no different than a parent laughing at their child as they try to imitate them. Hot tears run down my eyes as I try in vain to communicate with them. Unlike those archaeological frauds, my tears are not in desperation. They are in salvation.

Humanity has always questioned the existence of divinity, relying on faith in the face of something that cannot be proven. Now, I have not just discovered the proof of actual gods. I am one with them. The shadows reach for us again, and this time they take hold of something intangible. My colleagues scream as their consciousness is torn from their bodies, their language stripped from them instead of freely given. I rise from my feet and don't flinch or flail like the others. I lift my arms open to the shadows in a loving embrace. They carry me through the portal, into the world beyond.

Vast cities and mountains lie beneath the darkness. but the shadows loom above them all. They are more remarkable than their greatest creations by simply existing. My arms stretch and sharpen. My ears and mouth shrink, and my head starts to grow. Though I am merely a fraction of what they are, I smile and sing along with them as fresh tears of joy run down my face. SCP-1806 is a stylized sculpture of an elongated human head,

0.8 meters in height and massing about 300 kilograms. Immediately after exposure, SCP 1806-1's shadow will begin to display anomalies, primarily by becoming darker than ambient lighting should allow, and by changing its shape to no longer be consistent with SCP 1806-1's outline. Starting at 6 to 12 hours after exposure, SCP 1806-1 will begin to perceive objects and entities, within shadows cast by other objects. Between 24 and 48 hours after exposure,

SCP 1806-1 will begin to lose the ability to visually distinguish objects, becoming functionally blind. Objects and entities within shadows are now particularly clear to SCP 1806-1, and any area of darkness will be described as a portal into some other reality. Between 24 and 48 hours after exposure, SCP 1806-1 will begin to present a form of aphasia that begins with the occasional inappropriate or nonsensical word choice and progresses into complete inability to communicate. The ability to understand spoken language from foundation personnel degrades similarly. Within 24 hours after exposure, any meaningful interaction between SCP 1806-1 and unaffected persons is impossible.