Personal Log Of Gordon Richards

Personal Log of: Gordon Richards, member of Mobile team Zeta-9, the Mole Rats

Date: June 3rd, ████

Dispatched to the “Kowloon Walled City” to recover an object and document anything affected by it. I have never seen such a horrible place. The filth is everywhere, whole walls and even structures made of garbage. If you crack your suit for even a second, you get flooded by the smell of smoke, cooking, sweat, machine oil and excrement. Henry fell into a pit used as a sewer on the ground level after breaking through a trash walkway. He was fine, the suit was just filthy, but he threw up and had to be removed. I’m not sure if he’s going to work out.

Everyone here avoids us like the plague, or darts out to throw trash or insults. They are a tribe, and a territorial one at that. The sheer crush of humanity is intimidating, and I’m glad I have the suit between me and them. The object is supposed to be somewhere in the core of this mass, but getting there is going to be tricky.

Date: June 4th, ████

Local law enforcement led by Agents did a bunch of raids last night. Cleared people out of some of the areas we need to go in, but there are so many people here it’s hard to notice any difference. Yesterday's recon helped uncover a couple “homes” affected by this thing. They don’t look like much, the same squalid homes as everyone else, but they are too big inside. It’s an odd feeling, standing with your hand on the wall, and knowing that by all rights you should be six feet outside the structure, in mid-air. Henry is better today, but seems really jumpy. Lev took him aside and talked to him last night, and I hope it’s helped. I’m getting worried about him. Caught him muttering to himself over the radio today. Told him to knock it off, but didn’t report it, maybe I should have. I think I’m going to ask for him to be put on a different unit after this.

Deep recon this evening, we’re splitting up to try and hunt down where they are storing this thing. Lev and I pulled the short stick and have to hike it around the sewer system. Honestly, it can’t be any worse than topside; at least I won’t have to keep seeing the blank, empty faces of these people.

Date: June 6th, ████

Henry is dead. We didn’t get back until early this morning; we’d been off the radio for several hours because of all the interference. It seems areas affected by this thing screw with radio waves pretty bad. The sewer was a nightmare, but no sign of alteration by the item. When we came back up, Paul gave me the news. Henry and Paul were exploring near the center of the city when they got attacked. A mob of people swarmed them and dragged Henry off. Paul was hurt and his suit was badly damaged, and he had to leave for medical attention. Henry was screaming over the radio for a while, and then it cut off. Paul and a couple other Mole Rats charged in with some agents to recover Henry, but after a few minutes, Henry came back on the radio.

His receiver was broken, but he could still broadcast. One of the Agents was recording, and he played it back to Lev and I, to see if any of it made sense to us. It didn’t. He was rambling and sounded like he was hurt. Kept talking about the endless heart of the city, the hell of glass, just crazy stuff. Paul and the rescue team kept trying to find him, but suddenly his radio cut out again.

Henry came tearing down one of those tiny halls, helmet off and screaming like a mad man. He ran right by Paul and smashed an Agent into a wall on his way by. He slammed into a dead end and just exploded through it, right out of the building. He fell six stories onto some metal junk. It took an hour to get his body untangled. We’re done screwing around here. Agent Parks, Lev and me are rounding up what amounts to the city elders, and we’re getting to the damn bottom of this.

Date: June 7th, ████

Interrogation went well. Agent Parks asked the questions, we provided what he called “negative consequences for non-cooperation”. The first guy, some Triad punk, didn’t want to talk. Two broken legs later, and he was a lot more open. Said the thing was called “The Builder”, and nobody knew when it first came to the city. He never had anything to do with it, just helped stand guard outside rooms where it was working. He said that was all he knew, and that we had to talk to one of the elders, Long-Wen, if we wanted it. He apologized for Henry’s death, said it was just the way of things. I broke his jaw in three places.

Long-Wen may be the oldest-looking man I’ve ever seen, and with a will like iron. He just took everything we dished out, and didn’t say a word. Parks said that the next stop was his wife and grandkids, and that got him talking. Told us it was kept in one of the oldest parts of the city, some old temple. It had grown, and made wonderful things, but only the worthy could look upon it and not be overwhelmed by it. He said Henry was shown the wonders, in the hopes that he would be able to convince us to not take The Builder, but that he was not worthy, and was broken.

We made him show us where they keep it. Long-Wen said it wouldn’t do any good, that it was buried too deep. They moved it deep inside when they first caught wind of the Agents; he said we’d never get it back. We’re doing Deep Work tomorrow, and we’re not coming out without it.

Date: June 10th, ████

Been out for a while. This place is amazing. At first, it was just a temple that was too big inside, neat but nothing new. Then we went in deeper. Whole rooms, altars, everything re-created and rearranged by this thing. It’s like someone built twelve whole temples inside this one tiny structure. Agent Parks set up a recall point in the main hall with some other Agents to make sure nobody sneaks up on us. We suited up and went to work. It started getting odd after hour six. Lots of hallways, not as many rooms. Then, eighty-three rooms all connected by those sliding doors, each with a tiny Buddha in the center of the floor, and nothing else. Lev grabbed a few for samples. We knew things were getting odd when we came to a perfect reproduction of the first altar room, but appearing to be made of one solid mass of wood.

Thing was beautiful and totally seamless, and not a single tool mark on anything. Paul found some documents, and we scanned them back to Parks. He said they were about the object; apparently they’re calling it SCP-184 now. Parks said it talks about how they moved 184 deeper each time it made a new area. They thought it was some gift from God or something. Used it to expand rooms, if people would donate to the temple, or at least to the gangs that controlled it at the time.

I’ve never been in a place like this. It’s getting harder to maneuver. The halls are starting to get strange, they go up at funny angles, and the last few rooms have been tiny. By Lev’s count, we should be twenty feet above the roof of this whole city by now.

Date: June 12th(?), ████

I’m getting sick of this place. Came to a branch yesterday, had to split the team. I drew the “up” hallway, and set out. Not sure how long I’ve been climbing. The halls aren’t regular anymore; they wave in and out, like a frozen earthquake. Everything seems to be made of stone here. Managed to squeeze into a side room to catch my breath, once I looked around, I saw everything was made of jade. It was all colored right, and had the right texture, but it was jade. Bed, chairs, table, books, everything. I sat on the bed for two hours and didn’t think. I got up and smashed the jade lamp that was probably worth more than my life, and left.

I’m not feeling well. I feel really disconnected here, like an astronaut or something. It’s not like other areas I’ve been in. Never felt so alone. I’m fine, I know that. It's Henry dying, the whole rotten city outside, and me being alone and able to think too much. Rats are tested for mental stability, and I passed with flying colors. It’s just my nerves. I’m sitting on a chair made of thousands of tiny dragon statues, writing on a table made of super-dense paper, and I am fine.

Date: June (?)

I’ve been out too long. Food low. Water low. Not out yet, but getting there. Hearing things. Keep thinking I hear voices. Been climbing for days. Saw light today. At the end of a side-hall, bright yellow light. I climbed into the hall and ran. Smashed through the door, and it was a room. Millions of candles, all lit, but just another room. Pulled off my helmet, smashed the candles with it. Broke my lenses, neck seal, radio. Didn’t care. Sat and cried for hours. Dropped a pick down the shaft today, never heard it hit bottom. Almost jumped to go get it, but stopped. Got to find this thing. Going to smash it to bits. Stomp it. Crush it.

Date: June (?)

Food out. Suit can’t make any more water. Saw a hall with ten thousand doors. Ran down it, smashed a bunch, then kept climbing. Lost my boots. Floor looked like carpet. Made of super-sharp stone. Cut suit to ribbons. Feet too. Blood all over the shaft. Hope it appreciates it. Going to crush this thing. Feel it shatter in my hand. Hate this place. Keep hearing Henry. Keep telling him he’s dead. Won’t listen.

Date: (?)

Top of shaft. Hall to forever. Lights everywhere. Going to kill the heart.

Date: (?)

Hell is Heaven

Heaven is Hell

Life is Wonderful

Notes: Gordon Richards went missing during the recovery of SCP-184, presumed KIA. SCP-184 recovered by Team Zeta-9. Journal recovered in rubble left from destruction of SCP-184 affected temple.