Special Containment Procedures
Due to its unusual nature, containment efforts for SCP-2508 are to be focused on its upkeep, research regarding its origin and significance, and maintaining its routines.
The current resident is to add their name to the logbook, along with their Foundation ID and occupation. SCP-2508-1 is to be filled every day at noon, and should be inspected for cracks or leaks on a monthly basis, with repairs being made accordingly. The hatch in front of SCP-2508-2 is to be closed during bad weather and all of winter.
SCP-2508 is to be kept in good condition. The archives are to be kept organized at all times. Please note that all necessities such as food and medication are restocked daily.
Additionally, the current resident is to record any and all findings they come across regarding SCP-2508. They are also encouraged to catalog any other thoughts, experiences, and/or dreams they deem relevant. It is imperative that these records be concise. Incomplete data and fragments of information are also acceptable, including any knowledge pertaining to fields of study that may be useful to future residents.
The current resident is to attempt to maintain a mental state of well-being. For more information on the subject, see the study. Finally, at all times, an up to date version of this document is to be kept within a laminated slot located on the table by the door.
Description
SCP-2508 is a cottage-style house of indeterminate location, as well as its .53 km2 of surrounding property. The house has two main floors, not including its one basement and attic. The manner in which SCP-2508 is discovered by an individual is always unintentional, and past residents have noted coming across the house at varying addresses in separate towns, different countries, and under wildly dissimilar circumstances. Both SCP-2508's builders and original inhabitants (if it can be presumed there were any) are unknown at this time.
Only one person is capable of being inside SCP-2508 at a time. As an individual enters, however, they will become incapable of leaving. The reason for this comes from the fact that as one exits the property of SCP-2508 on one end, they will find themselves arriving at the other end. This looping - or recursive - geographical space is what prevents escape from SCP-2508. At this point the reader may be growing aware of the implications of what has just been described. It should be clarified that - as escape from SCP-2508 is impossible, and SCP-2508 is not believed to have any real world location - sending information to the outside world is not a possibility. Barring an unforeseen scenario, all material regarding SCP-2508, including this document, is confined within SCP-2508 itself.
Therefore, if you are reading this document, you are now the current resident of SCP-2508. All of your duties to The Foundation of the outside world are (unofficially) null and void. The current working theory is that The Foundation at large has no knowledge of this place whatsoever. The information presented in this document has not been subject to review by The Foundation as a whole, but instead is the culmination of each individual Foundation member who has lived and died in the isolation of SCP-2508.
Herein lies more unexplained characteristics of SCP-2508. All recorded past residents have been Foundation personnel of clearance level 1 or higher. The reason for this remains unclear, but research suggests that (judging from water levels of SCP-2508-1 when new residents arrive) if a resident of SCP-2508 dies, they are replaced by a new resident within the same day. Depending on your predecessor's cause of death, you may have some cleaning up to do.
SCP-2508-1 is a wood and metal pump-like device in the attic. The machine has a height of 1 m and is affixed to the floor. Water put into the machine is pumped throughout the day to an unknown location via a series of six small PVC pipes that run from the bottom end of the machine to a small hole in the wall. If fully filled, SCP-2508-1 will drain in approximately 30 hours. A plaque built into the device contains the following written passage:
Please fill this machine once per day at noontime. We cannot arrive with as much haste if the machine runs dry. We hope you understand, and trust that you will keep your side of the arrangement now that we have kept ours. Thank you.
Failing to fill the machine as instructed appears to have degenerative effects on both SCP-2508 and the individual who lives there. Allowing the device to remain empty for a prolonged period of time is believed to be fatal. It is advised that you heed the instruction.
SCP-2508-2 (hatch not pictured).
SCP-2508-2 designates the patch of organic material in the basement. The material is of green coloration with small amounts of red and purple hues. It is not of any known species of plant. This material will photosynthesize if allowed sunlight through a hatch (due to the structure of the basement, this hatch is placed slightly above ground level), and will occasionally bloom with blue flowers. Some have reported hearing a static sound coming from the object, or a faint red glow coming off of it in intermittent pulses. Translated from Morse code, these pulsations read:
Thanks for keeping the plants fed. Hit a snag in traffic, might take a bit longer than expected.
Like with SCP-2508-1, the hatch for SCP-2508-2 also has a plaque on it. Its text has been provided below.
Please keep this hatch open only in good weather. Please keep it closed for rain, snow, and the chill of winter. Thank you.
Addendum: The record archive in the study has proven to be the most efficient way for cataloging and compiling research for future residents. However, a miscellaneous section was also added at some point to record the thoughts of those trapped here. You may feel free to read up on your predecessors. Provided below is an example intended to prime you for your stay here.
"I was driving home when it happened. It was about a 30 minute commute through a lot of back roads, and I was terribly drunk. It was one of those "XK Class Scenario averted, let's celebrate" occasions, so I didn't really hesitate to down more than my fair share of wine. When I arrived at my front porch, car askew so that the front tires dug into the dirt on my front lawn, I stumbled for the door. After a great amount of fidgeting I managed to to get my key in the lock, and finally got the door open. But then when I looked around, it wasn't my house at all. It was this place. Dumbfounded, I went back outside. Surely, I thought, I had accidentally entered another house in my drunken stupor. But now not even the outside was as expected. The suburban-urban environment had shifted to a countryside. My car was still there, sitting on the asphalt road which was now a dirt road. Everything was different, and it was never quite the same.
That was all 23 years ago. No doubt my position as O5 was replaced long, long ago, and here I am, having found startlingly few answers. Every once in a while I'll find an old shoe or a photograph of someone who came before me, and I am reminded how we are all chained together in an oblivious and obligatory service to this place.
Lately the clouds keep rolling in, and the plants in the basement are buzzing more than usual. I hear the gurgling of water draining through the pipes in the walls from that old dusty machine, and sometimes I try to find where that water goes. I think it goes out beyond the house, into the grassy field in front of the swing set. When I lay on the grass, sometimes, if I listen very closely and everything else is quiet, I swear I can hear noises coming from far below the ground. They sound like some kind of clockwork mechanism, its gears quietly humming. I don't know what it means, and I don't think I ever will.
Undoubtedly, the most puzzling thing about this place is really quite a small feature. There's a computer terminal in the study, and it looks like it's one of the oldest things in the house. It's clearly Foundation, but it's… Unsettling, to say the least. We would have known about this if the Foundation knew, I'm sure. But if that's truly the case, then it still doesn't explain how the anomaly got its number designation. Is it arbitrary, or is it actually cataloged in the outside world? I don't think it's possible to know from here.
Sometimes I feel like I'm waiting for something, or for someone. It's not for someone to save me, but it's as if I'm waiting to meet someone here. I dream of what that meeting might be, or why it might be in the first place. But somewhere deep down I know that I will almost certainly die here, and this long wait will be passed down to another, to continue waiting with bated breath for something, though what exactly that something is we can't be sure of.
Maybe someday I'll learn how the food gets restocked."
-Written by O5-7
