Subject: Junior Researcher Sybil Westwood . Dr. Westwood had been transferred to Site 90 from the Antimemetics Division, and as such had advanced cognitohazardous training. Dr. Westwood was instructed to resist the influence of the Silver Events as much as was possible.

Summary of Prior Silver Events:

<Begin Log>

The station opened onto a bar. Music was playing at a high volume.

Dr. Westwood: OK, Control, I've left the station. Any instructions?

Control: Approach the bar. Exploration seems useless, but we might as well try to keep going with the interviews.

Dr. Westwood: Got it.

Dr. Westwood approaches the bar, and sits down.

Dr. Westwood: Scotch. Neat.

SCP-3444-9-B, appearing as a male instance in his mid-20s, turns around.

SCP-3444-9-B: Well, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?

Dr. Westwood: Ah, shit. This is the dash B.

Control: You're sure?

Dr. Westwood: He's tall, handsome and uses ridiculously corny, overused lines. He's my type alright.

Control: Alright. Just stay with us, OK? This is by far the furthest we've got without the cognitohazard taking over.

Dr. Westwood: Got it. No way am I succumbing to this romantic-comedy shit.

SCP-3444-9-B passes Dr. Westwood a glass of neat Glenfiddich.

Dr. Westwood: Gaaaah, that’s the stuff. So, Dash B, you gonna put the moves on me or what?

SCP-3444-9-B: Yeah. That’s what I'm here for, after all.

Dr. Westwood: …What you’re here for?

SCP-3444-9-B: Yeah. Us Dash 9 instances.

Dr. Westwood: You know about that? How? None of the others do!

SCP-3444-9-B: Hey, I’m meant to be your ideal guy, right? At least for now. And your ideal guy would be as cynical and messed-up enough to be annoyingly self-aware. And give you the info you want.

Dr. Westwood: Huh. This place must have a sense of humour. So, what are you guys? Do you just appear out of thin air, like everything else?

SCP-3444-9-B: I don’t know. It’s weird. I can always remember being here; growing up in the city, making drinks, that kinda thing. The others probably can, too. But I can also remember being dozens of different people in other versions, other train journeys. That’s our lot, I suppose. The same characters, same archetypes, endlessly recycled in other peoples’ dreams.

Dr. Westwood: That… kinda sounds horrible.

SCP-3444-9-B: Nah, not really. I’m only uncomfortably self-aware because you made me. Next iteration I’ll have forgotten it all. It’s not a bad life; getting to have deep, fulfilling relationships and some really great sex with everyone who passes through.

Dr. Westwood: I suppose. Still seems a bit creepy, though.

SCP-3444-9-B: What’s more annoying is when I change during a Golden Event. Take this script, for example. In a few events time, I’m meant to- hang on-

SCP-3444-9-B pulls out a sheaf of papers, and begins rifling through it.

SCP-3444-9-B: Yeah, here we are… Scene 6, which is your dash 7. Apparently I demand you give up your career and have kids with me.

Dr. Westwood: Urgh, serio- wait, what the hell? You people have scripts?

SCP-3444-9-B: Oh, no. Just me, because it fits with your own personal enjoyment of this thing to see me pull it from under here.

Dr. Westwood: …Being forced to give up my career to push a squalling infant out of my body doesn’t sound very enjoyable to me.

SCP-3444-9-B: Eh, true, but the script likes to play games. Push people who resist, mess with their heads. Makes you wonder who’s in charge of it all; what great intelligence is at work. But I don’t really want to know. This place gives you your dreams for a night, and that’s what matters.

Dr. Westwood: I’d rather keep my dreams to myself, to be honest.

SCP-3444-9-B: Eh, you’ll change your tune once the musical number starts. Which should be only a few seconds, now.

Dr. Westwood: Wait, what?

SCP-3444-9-B: Yeah, I’m afraid the full force of the cheesiness will destroy what’s left of your resistance. Sorry, and all that. This lucid version of me is pretty fun to play, will be a shame to change again.

Dr. Westwood: Oh no no FUCKING NO I am NOT getting involved in some kind of musical shenanig-

At this point, loud music begins to be heard. The music is vaguely reminiscent of the style of a 1950s musical number. The SCP-3444-9 instances present begin an elaborately choreographed song-and-dance number.

Dr. Westwood: Wellll, I’m just a girl in downtown Toronto,

Who hates this meta script,

But I used to watch films with Reid and Tonto,

So I guess I can kick off my shoes,

Control: Ahh, she’s gone. Alright, folks, time to switch to observation mode.

SCP-3444-9-B: Ohhh, I’m just a guy from a downtown bar,

Looking to reinvent,

She’s just a girl from a world apart,

Ohhh, can this really be?

SCP-3444-9 Instances: Aaaand, we’re just the folks along for the ride,

Sitting in this downtown bar,

We don’t really mind this meta script,

Done us pretty well so far,

Dr. Westwood: Well, I’m a researcher from Site 90

Drinking and studying death,

At least I’m not stuck in old Site 19,

Cleaning that old-school mess,

SCP-3444-9-B: Ohhhh, well I’m just a fictional construct,

Made from lonely dreams,

But if you come with me tonight,

We can work on our rhyme scheme!

The song abruptly ends. Dr. Westwood drinks the rest of her whisky.

Dr. Westwood: When can I see you again?

SCP-3444-9-B: Ohh, I’ll be around, babydoll. I come back like a bad penny.

Dr. Westwood: Gah. Just the kind of awful line I should expect from a construct. OK, time to move on. See you later, alligator.

SCP-3444-9-B: In a while, crocodile.

Dr. Westwood returns to SCP-3444-5.

<End Log>