Earl's SCP-001 Proposal "The Storywriter" 10/14/19

[Schölinger]

(This is non-canon and I am in no way related to the in-game 05’s. Just wanna put that out there-)

An open letter to my fellow council members,

No memetics. No redactions. No "data expunged," none of that bullshit today. I come to you with a list of terms. Maybe even a will, per se. You see, I am very, very old. Well beyond the limits of what God planned for me, if there is indeed a God to believe in any more. One-hundred-and-forty-eight years. You know, in all that time, I never found a reason to live a single one of them out. 

     Now, I'm sure your hearts are already racing. I never send emails, let alone addressed to the entire council, but something has to come to my attention that urges that very action. I bring to you not only a question, but a statement. What are we not allowed to know? It's difficult to answer for those in your position. Everything seems so within your grasp. Every little piece of information uncensored. But, there are indeed things that even we are not privy to. I'd ask that those of you chosen to bear the burden, remember Roger Sheldon. Yes, that was his name. 05-11 was Roger Sheldon, a seventy-three year old man who passed away of a stroke on the Galapagos islands. The last thing you'd ever expect to kill one of us. 

     Remember Roger Sheldon, and how each and every one of us, except for you select few, were entitled to a heavy dose of amnestics to forget everything that accursed man told you.

     Now, I must ask you, what things are we allowed to share? We are generally considered to be the very top, no? But every little bit of information leaked out into the crowdspace of our Foundation must be met with a meeting of the council. We can't just go about throwing out redacted information without telling anyone, can we? I'm sure you know who you are, but for the sake of the others, I do believe that we are the source of one of this Foundation's most massive, and honestly most easily covered up breaches there has ever been.

     I call to your memory SCP-500. That little red pill considered the key to immortality. Almost everyone knows about it across the board. It hasn't been censored, only restricted under the circumstances of its limits. But there is one thing. One careless misstep that has not been considered. Honestly, ask yourself: How could an organization with so many grand achievements like ours not know how to simply replicate a medication? The answer is simply that we know. You shouldn't know. I thought that amongst you, you each would have the common sense not to put such a power into the hands of anyone, Foundation or not, but as it seems that common sense was not present.

     One of you gave access of SCP-500 to a level three personnel, fully knowing his intent with it. A certain Dr. James Earl, it was. Of course you had the sense to change your mind after the experiment was complete. Under normal circumstances, your punishment would be carried out swiftly and without forewarning, but today's circumstances are by no means normal. Reviewing the log made of the incident ultimately pulled my attention to something... astonishing. As I read through our documentation, viewing log after log of haphazard experiment and strange permissions given, something began to become apparent to me.

     On the date of 10/13/19, a massive Keter-class test took place. This left the facility mostly empty, and I took the opportunity to tour. Strange things became to come to mind, odd urges and unfamiliarity. Soon, I began to realize that my incentives were not of my own. In fact, as I focused, I felt that my body was not even my own. As I sit and type these words, as sure as I am that I even exist in a state to write them, it is my undying belief that it is not of my own doing. 

     Why would 05-1 ever write out to his peers? He's supposed to be a man of mystery, not... this. It's all wrong. The role is being played wrong.

     I ask again, what are we not allowed to know? The easiest answer- the ultimate answer, is SCP-001, the end-all, be-all. The ultimate creator of our reality and universe. But what if it is not one entity? No, what if it is a composition of entities? Multiple intelligences outside of our reality, coming together to form one massive mish-mash of ideas. It explains all the nonfunctionality. The constant in-flow of new JRs, without any comprehensible source. The rampant unproffesionality that runs in our halls unpunished, even by ourselves. Even... vague memories of personnel deaths, men maimed and harmed in thoughts sitting at the back of my head- men that are perfectly fine and have always been. It makes no sense. I feel like I'm losing myself.

     We are all... losing ourselves.

     We are all... written.

     By the Storywriters.

Edited October 14, 2019 by Schölinger