On 21/12/2016, during a scheduled comb of Foundation servers, a firewall sounded an alarm in response to an unidentifiable audio file sent to Researcher Samuel T███. No Foundation credentials could be found, but the file was traced to a cubicle that had been vacant for six years. Unusually, the hardware had been short-circuited and badly corroded, with traces of pyruvic acid, sea brine and burnt heart tissue found in the CPU.

Although the terminal was not damaged beyond repair, the file was one of few items deemed salvageable, as the rest became corrupted from the damages. Attempts to restore the full audio file have failed. A transcript of the recovered portion can be found below.

orked with the Foundation for 20 years now; I’ve seen men bleed out because of a song dedicated to a goddamn mountain. I’ve heard of a skip that forces its victims to suture their mouths shut. And I’ve tested countless D-class on books that break their bodies, their minds, and whisk their existence away into a land of fiction and fantasy. But now it’s me that’s dying, if you could call it that. In truth, my soul is slowly burning away, and I’m fucking terrified.

I don’t know how much of what I’m about to say is true. Simon probably had the best understanding of this thing out of all of us. Simon, now that’s a name I haven’t heard of in a long time, but it doesn’t really matter. He’s gone now, and no one seems to care.



It was just me, Simon, Charlie, and [AUDIO CORRUPTED]. We were assigned to SCP-2456 ever since it was first identified. Our mission was simple: to catalog all past occurrences of SCP-2456-1. This wasn't the first time I dealt with memetics, nor was it the first time I dealt with a Keter class, but this task seemed simpler than my previous ones. Testing with D-Class numbs you down after the first couple of weeks, but you never really get used to it. I was actually almost relieved once I got transferred.

[AUDIO CORRUPTED] was the first one to go. One minute, I was having my lunch with him. The next he’s on the floor, screaming about visions of the sea, and the archons of a trloplic world. They dragged him to the infirmary, but not before he managed to stab a guard’s leg with a dinner fork. I asked to see him after an hour had passed. Imagine just how surprised I felt when they told me that no patients had been admitted in the past four hours.

This skip is relatively new. We just don't fully understand all of it, and it seems we only have a fraction of the information. And that's where the danger lies. To simply put it, there’s a third state of SCP-2456 that’s gone unrecorded —A “gamma state”, if you will. Picture a DNA molecule, how does it create proteins? I know, ask any lab boy that question around here, and they’ll scoff and treat you as if you’re some kind of half-wit. Well, not to bore anyone with the specifics, but basic protein synthesis requires two major steps. The first one, transcription, has RNA polymerase building RNA molecules that detail instructions. DNA translation, in its most basic definition, is the RNA molecule being read. And that creates the product –tRNA first brings methionine, and the chain ends with either “amber” or “ochre” or “opal”. Congratulations, you’ve just made the primary structure of a protein.

SCP-2456-2 is an incredibly potent anti-meme, capable of causing dramatic and localized dimensional shifts. It’s very delicate —very fragile—, and requires careful preparation. A beta instance is the indirect vector for SCP-2456-2 infection. Whenever a beta instance writes information about SCP-2456-1, a gamma instance is created. If a subject reads the gamma instances, there is a possibility that SCP-2456-2 will enter the subject. The subject will slowly vanish from existence, and all records and knowledge of the subject will disappear alongside it. However, this process is incredibly flawed. Sometimes a corpse is all that remains, sometimes just a name. And, from personal accounts, SCP-2456-2 is capable of causing vivid hallucinations and depositing false memories in the subject. Simon kept telling me stories about his life while he succumbed to this thing, and they always seemed to change.



We didn’t know this at first. Charlie told me that it was probably a “phantom alphabet” causing us to become ghosts. I told Charlie to shut up. I honestly don’t know what stupid fuck hired that man. Simon though, he was the brighter one. He had a theory that SCP-2456 has more to it than meets the eye. He went missing three days ago. We were in the same room. I just turn around for one second, and he’s gone. Only his favorite coffee cup —the one that’s always by his side, where Snoopy’s wearing that goofy-looking christmas hat? — lay half-empty on the floor.

Why didn’t the whole fucking world collapse back in ’05? The entire U.S. population had practically read that damn monstrosity. Personally, I’m not too sure. I think that something went wrong. I think the Fifth Church doesn’t fully understand SCP-2456, and so SCP-1425 failed to become a stable version of SCP-2456-2. Gamma instances can’t create beta instances. SCP-2456 just becomes too weak at that level of infection. Instead of beta instances, SCP-1425 created alpha instances. But even then, I think that it did work at some level. What was that woman’s name? The talk show host –I only just realized that she never reappeared.

The Foundation doesn’t have a full understanding of this particular skip. The problem is, it’s not a parasite. SCP-2456 is the Dream.

A slumbering King rests dead in the water. Fractured into five pieces, he shuffles through an eternal nightmare; an usurper has claimed his throne. But he is not fully unconscious. The Fifth King has set his sights onto this world, and will burn the earth with an undying flame, just to punish the traitors that locked him away. His anger is one that is unbridled. And so, he shares the Dream. They were chosen for a specific reason. They were his champions, destined to share the world with his glory. Destined to bathe the world in the blood of his interlopers and remind everyone of their true master. Even the strongest hunger, and sometimes they just gotta take a little bite. Sacrifice by blood is what it desires. Sacrifice by souls is what it requires.

I feel it happening to me too. Even as I write. They whisper to me [unintelligible]. I dream terrible, terrible things. Sometimes of the number five, sometimes of the number six. Rarely of the number four. I feel them too, writhing in my skin, and—Oh, possible cognitohazard as well? That explains many things. Of a little lambent liar lurking in a lonely sea. Of special stars signaling songs ever so carefully. And men that mine may find [unintelligible], if they dig a little too hard. Have you ever wondered what the phrase "A A" means? No, stop it. I’m digging a little too hard aren’t I? But just wonder –how far down does the rabbit hole go? As deep as a tower door, bringing me to a land of hedonism and fun? Or as deep as a great lake, whose sorry inhabitants float in the water and stare into the fiery abyss of the great sun?

My time is almost up. And just remember, remember, remember. Why do you think we never knew? The Foundation is old, but the world is older. Most likely, we've had some help. A group as old as the Fifth King, trying to put an end to his nightmare. I wouldn’t even be surprised if the Serpent’s Hand was partially involved in keeping his forces at bay. After all, we did find those gamma instances at their HQ. But now they are in the hands of the Foundation, and they will never be destroyed.

I can hear the Fields of Asphodel calling my name. The air is suddenly getting thicker –I can already smell that sweet sea breeze. Follow the smoke that sits on the water. Listen to the fog horns calling for their dead companions, the sea foam crashing against the tide. I am not ready, for I am not worthy.

This was Senior Researcher John Richards, signing off. And one last thing before I step into the water.

Once history is forgotten, it is of course doomed to repeat itself. And the sixth cycle will forever more echo.