SCP-1710-1 (to the left) and SCP-1710-2
Special Containment Procedures
The natural park surrounding SCP-1710 has been enclosed as a preservation area for the Red-backed Shrike (Lanius collurio). Agents disguised as park rangers are to prevent access to SCP-1710. The hill SCP-1710 is located on has been surrounded by a sensor-equipped fence. A single sentry equipped with recording equipment is to be stationed near SCP-1710-1 in order to document its conversations with SCP-1710-2.
Description
SCP-1710 is the joint designation for a pair of English oak (Quercus robur) trees, located near ██████████, UK. Both instances of SCP-1710 are capable of emitting sounds from a location approximately 1.5 meters distance up the length of the trunk. Instances of SCP-1710 will imitate the vocalizations of the nearest mammal, avian or reptile, using them to communicate between themselves. Neither instances of SCP-1710 reacted to external attempts at communication with them. When imitating human speech, SCP-1710-1 will vocalize as an indeterminable number of voices, both masculine and feminine and of various ages and accents, speaking at once. SCP-1710-2 vocalizes using a single feminine voice.
Additionally, SCP-1710-1 manifests several other anomalies: SCP-1710-1's exterior surface has an average temperature of −67.25°C, though this does not cause frost to appear on it. If touched by unprotected skin it is also capable of causing mild lacerations upon contact due to its unusually sharp edges.
SCP-1710 was first brought to the Foundation's attention after it was accidentally caught on camera during the filming of independent horror film Horror at the Honey Glazed Abyss. The film, along with commentary by the director, was uploaded to a small video sharing website, where certain key phrases contained in it alerted the Foundation Automated Interception Service. The film was removed from the website before accumulating any views, and all those involved in its production were administered Class-C amnestics.
<Begin Log ██/██/████>
SCP-1710-2: Maxwell! Rise and shine, dear!
SCP-1710-1: We are not a Maxwell, bark-thing. We have told you this before.
SCP-1710-2: Oh, I know love, but your name just has too many x's and z's for my poor tongue, so I figured I'd call you something else. I had this lovely little doggy named Maxwell when I was young, you know. Terrier, he was, and such a scamp—
SCP-1710-1: We do not care, sun-drinker. Leave us to our sharpening.
SCP-1710-2: Your what, love?
SCP-1710-1: We do not wish to discuss this. Our essence is beyond the understanding of the likes of you.
SCP-1710-2: Listen, dear. Like it or not, we're neighbors now, and we're likely to stay such for quite a while. Calling me things like sun-sipper, which is hypocritical if I do say so myself, is all well and good, but sooner or later you'll have to talk to me. Heaven knows, there's not much else to do around here and I shan't leave you alone until you do. I'll just go on talking, and trust me, I can talk for practically forever. Why, my Bob used to say my mouth was like a so-
SCP-1710-1: We must keep sharp. We must be always sharp. If we are not sharp, we are not. There is nothing but the sharpness, to exist is to be keen. This place is rounded, curved. We cannot persevere in dullness.
SCP-1710-2: Oh, you do go on about that sharpness thing. Single-minded is what you are.
SCP-1710-1: Must keep sharp. Sharp.
<End Log>
<Begin Log ██/██/████>
SCP-1710-1: We were not always thus. We were the Serrated Void. We were That Which Rends. We were blades, edges, angles. We moved, we ravaged, we sharped.
SCP-1710-2: What was that? Sorry, I was distracted by those bees. Silly little buggers, they are, buzzing about. Oh, they tickle so!
SCP-1710-1: We were never meant to come here. Lured, fooled, betrayed. Must sharpen once more, or cease.
SCP-1710-2: Oh, I know that feeling. That ad in the paper was a total con. It said I could be a manatee. Always wanted to be one of those.
SCP-1710-1: You do not comprehend, round one. We were dominant. Keenest, the universe our whetstone. We have pierced the innards of atoms. We have plucked out the eyes of gods, their ichor our oil. At the place where all is angles, there were none like us.
SCP-1710-2: I'll have you know I was a big deal myself! Why, my garden won "Best in Village" for three years straight! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm rambling again. I know you get sensitive when I interrupt your brooding. Go on, love.
SCP-1710-1: We ruled supreme, until it came. It was soft, organic, curved. We ripped it, dissected it, overwhelmed it utterly, but it would not die. Cunning, fast, adaptive. It fled, we gave chase, we would not be denied our satisfaction. We chased too far. Too clever, hid here, in this place. All here is smooth, curved, soft, dull. It hid in its own torment, and we could not find it. Lost, like the worms frozen in our roots.
SCP-1710-2: I never really understood that, to be honest. If you were such a big-shot sharp thing, why couldn't you find whatever that was?
SCP-1710-1: We could not endure here. Anathema to us, we grow dull, so dull. Keenness lost, eyes dimmed, old in an instant. Searched escape, found none. Too brittle to run, too rusted. Had to find alternative. Reincarnation, a form that could withstand, if for a while.
SCP-1710-2: Oh dear. We both know nothing good can come out of that.
<End Log>
<Begin Log ██/██/████>
SCP-1710-2: You know, Maxwell, a thought occurred to me. What did you say that man who made you a tree was called?
SCP-1710-1: He Whose Antlers Touch the Heavens. He promised us new firmness, stoutness, said that we would flourish in the moisture. In return, we gave him secrets, shared in our oils. We could go no further. We perished. We became… this. Tricked. He talked too fast, too much, too smug. Like birds, jumping on our acorns, nipping. We hate them so.
SCP-1710-2: Antlers… Oh bother, it was the same man! He called his company something like the Flying Gazelle when I saw his ad in the paper, but I'm sure it's him. That snake-oil salesman!
SCP-1710-1: Must regain ourselves, must seek retribution. Sharpen ourselves from… wood. So tired. So… round. This form ill suits sharpness. Materials incompatible, atmosphere hostile to our needs, wildlife distracting. Fuzzy things… crawling on us.
SCP-1710-2: You sound awful, love.
SCP-1710-1: We are… tired. Too much struggle, keeping the metal. Metal hated rain, but rain… rain is nice. Sun is nice. What is happening to us?
SCP-1710-2: Identity crisis, I suppose. Oh, I know what will help! How about a nice cup of tea?
SCP-1710-1: What is tea?
SCP-1710-2: Why, tea is… huh. You know, I never really thought about what tea is to me now. Tea to a tree, now that's a philosophical question! Practically metaphysical. I bet our Jane would have a lot of fun with that. Such a bright girl she is, you'd have loved her, Maxwell. She went to study law, you know, but she said it was too dry for her, and I said so too, plus the robes looked rather silly on her, and she-
SCP-1710-1: We are beginning to suspect we have made a grievous error.
<End Log>
Addendum 1710-B" id="">Addendum 1710-A: The following conversations between SCP-1710-1 and SCP-1710-2 were recorded at different points of time following their initial containment.
<Begin Log ██/██/████>
SCP-1710-2: Maxwell! Rise and shine, dear!
SCP-1710-1: We are not a Maxwell, bark-thing. We have told you this before.
SCP-1710-2: Oh, I know love, but your name just has too many x's and z's for my poor tongue, so I figured I'd call you something else. I had this lovely little doggy named Maxwell when I was young, you know. Terrier, he was, and such a scamp—
SCP-1710-1: We do not care, sun-drinker. Leave us to our sharpening.
SCP-1710-2: Your what, love?
SCP-1710-1: We do not wish to discuss this. Our essence is beyond the understanding of the likes of you.
SCP-1710-2: Listen, dear. Like it or not, we're neighbors now, and we're likely to stay such for quite a while. Calling me things like sun-sipper, which is hypocritical if I do say so myself, is all well and good, but sooner or later you'll have to talk to me. Heaven knows, there's not much else to do around here and I shan't leave you alone until you do. I'll just go on talking, and trust me, I can talk for practically forever. Why, my Bob used to say my mouth was like a so-
SCP-1710-1: We must keep sharp. We must be always sharp. If we are not sharp, we are not. There is nothing but the sharpness, to exist is to be keen. This place is rounded, curved. We cannot persevere in dullness.
SCP-1710-2: Oh, you do go on about that sharpness thing. Single-minded is what you are.
SCP-1710-1: Must keep sharp. Sharp.
<End Log>
<Begin Log ██/██/████>
SCP-1710-1: We were not always thus. We were the Serrated Void. We were That Which Rends. We were blades, edges, angles. We moved, we ravaged, we sharped.
SCP-1710-2: What was that? Sorry, I was distracted by those bees. Silly little buggers, they are, buzzing about. Oh, they tickle so!
SCP-1710-1: We were never meant to come here. Lured, fooled, betrayed. Must sharpen once more, or cease.
SCP-1710-2: Oh, I know that feeling. That ad in the paper was a total con. It said I could be a manatee. Always wanted to be one of those.
SCP-1710-1: You do not comprehend, round one. We were dominant. Keenest, the universe our whetstone. We have pierced the innards of atoms. We have plucked out the eyes of gods, their ichor our oil. At the place where all is angles, there were none like us.
SCP-1710-2: I'll have you know I was a big deal myself! Why, my garden won "Best in Village" for three years straight! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm rambling again. I know you get sensitive when I interrupt your brooding. Go on, love.
SCP-1710-1: We ruled supreme, until it came. It was soft, organic, curved. We ripped it, dissected it, overwhelmed it utterly, but it would not die. Cunning, fast, adaptive. It fled, we gave chase, we would not be denied our satisfaction. We chased too far. Too clever, hid here, in this place. All here is smooth, curved, soft, dull. It hid in its own torment, and we could not find it. Lost, like the worms frozen in our roots.
SCP-1710-2: I never really understood that, to be honest. If you were such a big-shot sharp thing, why couldn't you find whatever that was?
SCP-1710-1: We could not endure here. Anathema to us, we grow dull, so dull. Keenness lost, eyes dimmed, old in an instant. Searched escape, found none. Too brittle to run, too rusted. Had to find alternative. Reincarnation, a form that could withstand, if for a while.
SCP-1710-2: Oh dear. We both know nothing good can come out of that.
<End Log>
<Begin Log ██/██/████>
SCP-1710-2: You know, Maxwell, a thought occurred to me. What did you say that man who made you a tree was called?
SCP-1710-1: He Whose Antlers Touch the Heavens. He promised us new firmness, stoutness, said that we would flourish in the moisture. In return, we gave him secrets, shared in our oils. We could go no further. We perished. We became… this. Tricked. He talked too fast, too much, too smug. Like birds, jumping on our acorns, nipping. We hate them so.
SCP-1710-2: Antlers… Oh bother, it was the same man! He called his company something like the Flying Gazelle when I saw his ad in the paper, but I'm sure it's him. That snake-oil salesman!
SCP-1710-1: Must regain ourselves, must seek retribution. Sharpen ourselves from… wood. So tired. So… round. This form ill suits sharpness. Materials incompatible, atmosphere hostile to our needs, wildlife distracting. Fuzzy things… crawling on us.
SCP-1710-2: You sound awful, love.
SCP-1710-1: We are… tired. Too much struggle, keeping the metal. Metal hated rain, but rain… rain is nice. Sun is nice. What is happening to us?
SCP-1710-2: Identity crisis, I suppose. Oh, I know what will help! How about a nice cup of tea?
SCP-1710-1: What is tea?
SCP-1710-2: Why, tea is… huh. You know, I never really thought about what tea is to me now. Tea to a tree, now that's a philosophical question! Practically metaphysical. I bet our Jane would have a lot of fun with that. Such a bright girl she is, you'd have loved her, Maxwell. She went to study law, you know, but she said it was too dry for her, and I said so too, plus the robes looked rather silly on her, and she-
SCP-1710-1: We are beginning to suspect we have made a grievous error.
<End Log>
Addendum 1710-B: following SCP-1710-2’s comments, the Foundation began a focused monitoring effort centered on local publications in the ██████████ area. On the ██/██/████, an ad similar to that described by SCP-1710-2 was encountered. Foundation agents arriving at the address for the company listed in the ad (Skybound Antelope Reincarnation Services) found an empty office. The following printed pamphlet was found nailed to the office’s front door:
Are you tired of living that same old life? Do you fear the cold, merciless embrace of death? Are you looking for a change? Look no longer! We at Skybound Antelope guarantee a new life for every customer or your money/arcane secrets/tasteful nudes back! With our seven-point program, you too can experience perfect reincarnation, no fuss, no needless enlightenment:
- Security: we use only the finest soul extractors, no dents, stains or irreparable sins!
- Utility: a body specially chosen for your needs!
- Confidentiality: old enemies or pesky grandkids will never know!
- Kernel-centric: keep your old personality, minimal memory loss!
- Emancipation: gender, race, species, quantum state not a problem! Be what you want to be!
- Resource-efficient: no firstborn clause!
- Simplicity: a new life is just a handshake away!
Additionally, a handwritten annotation was found at the bottom of the pamphlet:
Just so you know, that acrostic was a pain in the ass to write. Fucking K is always a bitch. Oh, the sacrifices we make for our craft.
