SCP-2734

The following are excerpts from a journal kept by SCP-2734-1. These excepts were not voluntarily given, rather they were surreptitiously copied from his journal while he was being allowed out of his cell. SCP-2734-1 may have suspected these activities as he ceased updating the journal shortly after the Foundation began taking excerpts.

I hate this place. A clown’s place is out in the arms of our Mother Earth, beneath every star in heaven. Here I get a concrete ceiling. They’ve painted it a nice soft yellow colour, but it’s still a concrete ceiling. You can’t replace the stars with concrete.

They always make sure to smile when they come to talk to me. I’ve never seen humans smile before. It’s creepy. I don’t like it.

One of the humans tried to interview me today. He looked just like HIM. That camp director. The one I left behind on my world. I went into hysterics. It took fifteen minutes for me just to stop sobbing.

The corridors and layout of [Site-16] look exactly like the Clown Processing Plants back home. But the staff, uniforms, and insignias are all different. I haven’t seen much of this place, but I don’t think it’s as big as a Clown Processing Plant. I’m not sure there’s any building on this planet that big. But I’ll keep my eyes open, just in case.

Why is this world so different and yet so familiar? Same air. Same trees. Plenty of humans. But no clowns. Not anywhere. Just humans in whiteface.

Why are there no clowns? Did they never exist here? If they never existed, why do humans dress like them? Did the humans wipe them out? Were they forced to flee the planet like we were?

Did these people have anything to do with it?

I asked one of the staff members if I could give a performance to the staff. She said she’d pass a message to the Site Director, but they’d have to think about it. I’m so bored I'm actually considering performing for HUMANS.

I keep thinking back to my mother. I'm doing it more and more, as I’m slowly becoming convinced that they’ll never let us out of this place. She’s the whole reason I agreed to be their “guest”.

“Promise me you’ll go with them”, she said. “If they come looking for us, at least you’ll be safe”.

“Mother,” I said. “If they can find us in another plane of existence I doubt I’ll be safe in an underground bunker or whatever they have in store.”

She didn’t say anything. I just heard her sharp intake of breath as her nails dug deeper into my arms. I agreed because I never wanted to see her so scared again.

The following text was written on a piece of stationary found crumpled up in a wastebasket inside SCP-2734-2's cell. It is believed that he may been trying to communicate with the Foundation through writing, being too distressed to discuss his background in person.

They made me mop the floors. The humans. They made me work sixteen hours a day. No breaks. I didn't complain. I didn't want to think about what they'd do to me if I complain. I might have be sent to [illegible]

I had not seen my family and friends in months. I also didn't want to think about where they were. I still don't. I tell myself they are okay. I keep mopping the floors. I don't complain.

I am not sure they need me to mop the floors. Don't they have drones for that? I don't know much about humans, except for how they cage us. Why do they make me mop the floors? I don't ask. I don't complain.

One day they make us lift barrels into a truck. Why don't they use a [illegible]? I don't ask. I just lift the barrels. Me and Gorn. The last few clowns left. The barrels were heavy. My back was aching so badly. But we loaded the barrels best we can. One of the last barrels, I slip. The barrel slips from my hands and falls on the ground. It makes a loud sound as it hits the ground, louder than it should have. The lid flew off. Litres and litres of green liquid pour out. Liquid and something else. Stench hits me hard. I feel like I am going to vomit. There is the green liquid, and also hundreds of tiny red balls. I recognize the green fluid. Some kind of preservative. It takes longer to recognize the red balls. I jumped down and picked one up. Then it hit me.

They were clown noses.

Hundred of clown noses. Sliced clean off our faces. When I turned it over, I could see the rotting meat inside. I looked behind me. I could see thirty other barrels in the truck.

The rest of the document is scribbled out.

At approximately 7:00 am, on January 5th 2017, both SCP-2734-1 and SCP-2734-2 were found to be missing from their cells. No signs of how the disappearance occurred has been found, despite both cells being under 24 hour surveillance and a forensic examination being made of their cells. At the same time, all populations of SCP-2734 around the world spontaneously vanished from Foundation surveillance. Investigations are underway, but as of March 1st 2017, SCP-2734 is considered neutralized.