SCP-3635

The Forgotten Archive

Special Containment Procedures

SCP-3635 is to be contained in a Standard Security Locker. Personnel are forbidden from viewing the contents of SCP-3635; if viewed, Class-A amnestics are to be administered. Testing with SCP-3635 must be approved by at least one Level 3 researcher.

Any personnel assigned to SCP-3635 who experience inconsistent memories compared to others and/or documentation are to notify the Site Director immediately. Should additional memories include documents or letters, personnel are to make every attempt to replicate them.

UPDATE - 9/25/1996: All transcripts of recalls reported by SCP-3635-A are to be sent to the Historical Research Division for cross-examination with existing historical evidence.

Description

SCP-3635 is an entirely blank photograph measuring roughly 9.5 cm by 13 cm in size. Testing of SCP-3635 suggests it is a Cabinet Card¹. Reproductions of SCP-3635 through scanning or photography do not carry its anomalous effect.

When exposed to SCP-3635 directly, the subject (designated SCP-3635-A) will begin to recall one or more events. A large proportion of subjects report a form of traumatic event, which in majority of cases leads to depression or anxiety. Class-B amnestics appear effective at counteracting these effects. Non-Fatal Type-I Memetic Hazards are known to be present in certain events, necessitating basic cautionary procedures.

Most SCP-3635-generated memories share several fundamental characteristics, including interactions between anomalous entities (which, as of 9/25/1996, have included animals, plants, and inanimate objects) and a "green-suited" task force with unknown affiliations. The subject takes the role of an observer, and not as a member of this task force (with the exception of [REDACTED - LEVEL 4 CLEARANCE REQUIRED]).

► Show Addendum 1 - Interview Extracts

▲ Hide Addendum 1

Interview Extract #: D-3635-3

D-3635-3: So, I remember the smell of horses, hay, the like. I think I was working near the barn that day.

Interviewer: According to our documents, you've lived in an city your entire life.

D-3635-3: Not me, you twat, the other me. That me lived off the farm since we were born. I don't think I ever gone more than a few miles from it. And yet all I can remember is that specific day. As… As I said, I was working by the barn, loading up some bales, and my wife was coming up to help me.

Interviewer: Can you describe her?

D-3635-3: Beauty, really. Gorgeous brown hair, smooth skin, green eyes… I always loved that about her. Not that I loved her for them, I just thought that they were a signal of something special about her- the way she could take your arm and lead you to the ends of the earth, it was magnificent…

Interviewer: Did anything else happen?

D-3635-3 pauses

D-3635-3: That day, we were feeding the barn animals. I was about to finish up, when from across the barn, I heard her screaming. I ran over, and… her eyes were just gone. Nowhere to be seen. And… she just kept babbling incoherent nonsense…

D-3635-3 sighs

Interviewer: D-3635-3?

D-3635-3: Can… Can we stop the interview?

Interview Extract #: D-3635-7

Interviewer: Tell me more about Frank.

D-3635-7: Frank's always been a hothead. You could never get that guy to be happy, always mad at something or someone. Just an old, grumpy man. Anyways, I hear him screaming his god damn head off about some minor offense that I've committed against him, and his family, and his church or something.

Interviewer: Did you do anything to make him upset?

D-3635-7: Not that I can remember. As always. But, anyways, I step out on to my porch to tell him to cool his head off in the well, and that's when I notice that Frank was hell-of-a-lot different. One arm… well, it looked like a giant's arm that was plastered on to Frank's side. All pink and fleshy and…

D-3635-7 shutters

D-3635-7: I think it was growing as I watched it.

Interviewer: Did anything else interesting happen?

D-3635-7: Funny enough, something did. This group of soldiers jumped out of nowhere. Green uniforms, nothing I've ever seen before. They pushed me down as I saw them go after Frank with their bayonets. Man, he was roarin' and bleeding some strange black goo… Horrible.

Interview Extract #: D-3635-9

D-3635-9: I first remember writing, a letter, yeah. It was late at night, and really hot. I was using these old-fashioned looking gas lamps and getting really tired.

Interviewer: Did you observe anything abnormal?

D-3635-9: I suppose you could say that. Freaked me the hell out. I got this feeling I was being watched and there was this man… thing… standing in the doorway between my bedroom and the kitchen. Not moving, it looked like a man, but I think it was built out of porcelain. It had a painted and smiling face and these really ragged loose trousers. You know, I don't think it was actually standing up, supported by its legs I mean, it looked like it was hanging from the neck by some invisible rope.

Interviewer: What happened next?

D-3635-9: It spoke, without moving it's mouth. I think it said something along the lines of "Sorry for the intrusion, but do you mind if you could spare a cup of tea?". Really creepy, it sounded like a old man with a smoking habit.

Interviewer: Did anything else happen?

D-3635-9: We must have stared at each other for a few seconds to a few minutes, I can't tell. And then, it broke, as one of its arms suddenly twisted around and shattered into oblivion. All I remember after that was backing into the corner, as these men in green uniforms invaded my home.

Interviewer: And that was all you recall?

D-3635-9: That was- oh, wait, there was one more thing. One of the weapons the man held looked like nothing I've seen before. It was kinda gun, shaped, but it glowed and had these odd rings around the barrel.

Interview Extract #: D-3635-11

D-3635-11: There was always a bit of magic about the place, you know?

Interviewer: The library?

D-3635-11: Yeah. You didn't need to be working there as long as I did, you could just feel it in the air the moment you walked in. The place was just filled with history, quite literally. I could place my hand on the wooden walls and feel otherworldly energy flow through it.

D-3635-11: It didn't take me long to realize I wasn't the only person who spent their time reading books there. Sometimes, if I was really lucky, I could see the words on the pages rearrange before my very eyes. Ink flowed to form new phrases and alter the story ever so slightly. I saw a person like me, a reader, experience the story for himself as a character in the book. I saw him cheer on the hero fighting the dragon, engage in discussion with famous detectives, and act as a witness in dramatic court cases.

D-3635-11: But he left one day, and I couldn't find him again. And then…

D-3635-11 pauses, glaring at the floor

Interviewer: …And then?

D-3635-11: They burned it. The men you told me about. I was dragged out of my home as they set fire to the place. Everything burned… almost everything.

Interview Extract #: D-3635-12

Interviewer: Good evening, D-

D-3635-12: Fuck, those… God damn it!

Interviewer: D-3635-12, please remain calm.

D-3635-12: No, just… It's Jebodiah- I mean, Jackson, not D-whatever!

Interviewer: According to the terms of your contract-

D-3635-12: Yes, I know, I know, sorry. I'm just a bit… overwhelmed, right now.

Interviewer: Can you provide an account of the event you recall?

D-3635-12 laughs weakly

D-3635-12: Event? Man, I've got a whole lifetime to remember now.

D-3635-12 pauses and becomes more sedate

D-3635-12: I'm… pretty sure I was living in the past, or some form of it. There were no cars, no paved streets, no electricity. Life was… life was calm. I was happy. I owned a lot of land, kinda a big shot in the area, you get what I mean? Large family, grandchildren were on the way.

D-3635-12: We lived kind of in an oasis in a desert. We owed this fortune due to a gift from god, a statue of an angel. Some ancestor of mine, I dunno who, had put it on top of the hill overlooking the wheat fields. As long as we lead good, Christian lives, the gift would bless us with rain no matter the season. Our crops were in high demand for miles around.

D-3635-12: And then… those fucks showed up. Pointing strange guns at our faces, yelling at us, pointing at the hill. I don't think they were from around, I couldn't understand a word they said. Of course, their purpose was obvious. They wanted our statue.

D-3635-12: We were brought up to the site, and then they broke out these sticks. The angel watched over us, expression unchanging, as they started swinging at its base. Chunks of stone broke off and they kept on swinging, like they were felling a tree. My daughter… oh God, my daughter…

D-3635-12 pauses and weeps quietly

D-3635-12: She… She tried to stop them. Grabbed one of their legs and pleaded. The sticks were brought down, and… sh-she stopped moving. And God, the angel just watched silently. The same expression it's always had, as my daughter… as my daughter was taken from me forever.

D-3635-12 begins crying, and is unresponsive for the rest of the interview

► Show Addendum 2 - [CLEARANCE LEVEL 4 REQUIRED]

▲ Hide Addendum 2

On 25th September 1996, during routine testing with SCP-3635, D-3635-18 reported a memory which was inconsistent with previously documented experiences. The subject reported sitting at a writing desk in a concrete room and writing a letter. When asked, the subject was able to perfectly recall the contents of the letter. The letter is replicated in full below.

To whoever is reading this,

Happenings. Events. Unexplained occurrences. We were among the first to notice that things were not as they seemed. Objects behaving, not as they should, but as they wanted. And, of course, there was instantly a race to grab as many of them as possible.

Whenever we found an atypical creature – be it man, animal, or plant – we’d leave it alone. That is, until someone thought it would be a good idea to start searching for them, and kill them before they could kill us. I was always against the decision to begin hunting, but was ignored.

More to the point, we needed something that would make people forget we existed- to preserve out secrecy. Something we could carry around when we went out, hunting the atypicals, to erase any memory that anything was wrong. We had to be incredibly stealthy before, but with this, we could be as obvious as we wanted, and nobody would be able to remember a thing.

I was given that job. I struggled with it for weeks, trying to make something that would erase any memories that we wanted to erase. But my research was futile. There was simply no way I could do it.

Except, one day, I walked in to my office, and it was on my desk. The photograph.

Looking back over my memories, I pieced together what had happened. I had created the photograph – exactly how, I did not know– and it would erase the memories containing atypicals from whoever looked at it dead-on. Preliminary testing showed that subjects exposed to the photograph would deny being able to remember what had happened over the time they had forgotten, and gave accounts which were inconsistent with people who did possess memories of the time.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was damn better than nothing.

So, we used it. I was always against the idea of using atypicals to fight other atypicals, but the effectiveness of the photo drowned out my concerns by the other twelve.

But my suspicions were aroused when Jameson, that son of a bitch, woke up one day. He was different. He said he’d done things he hadn’t, been places he hadn’t, seen things he hadn’t. Everyone attributed it to amnesia or shock- I didn't think so.

I realized he’d wiped himself with the god damn photograph.

Seeing as he had been carrying the photo for his squad, I assumed he'd use it on himself if he'd seen "things" that he wanted to unsee. Didn't seem like that much of a big deal, at first, besides the… over-effectiveness of the memory-wipe. But then, the same thing happened to Quester, Ducat, Price, and some other members. And there was no way on Earth that any of them could have seen the photo. Something was terribly wrong.

I figured out what was happening quickly- the amnesia was spreading. Why, and more importantly why now, I did not know. But I needed to prevent it.

After the first day, I was ready to give up. I was constantly fighting a losing battle against my own amnesia-filled mind. There was no way I could possibly do it. Knowing this made no difference. I carried on regardless, using logic as opposed to science. I was sure that I knew already what to do.

Eventually, I did it. I found the answer.

The Negative.

If I could create a positive which erased memories, surely I could also create a negative which restored them. I had probably tossed it away somewhere for emergencies after I had created the photo I wanted. And finally, after hours of frantic searching, I found it. Thank the Lord it wasn't hidden away too far. I showed the image to everyone who forgot, and their memories came flooding back.

I was relieved, but I had forgotten the unstable nature of atypicals. The negative didn't give you your memories back- it gave you random ones, from the ones the positive had erased.

It wasn't exactly easy to keep an organization together, when the members remembered themselves doing horrid acts from the eyes of the victims. By the time we figured out what had happened, most of our group had left, became depressed, or had gone crazy.

We were done. We knew we were done.

You're going to remember this. You might remember more; you might not. But, no matter who you are, you need to pass this information on to someone.

Please remember.

Don’t fight fire with fire.

Upon further questioning, D-3635-18 was able to recall an image located above the letter. The photo contained 13 individuals, each labeled with a number ranging between one and thirteen. All individuals' faces, besides the one labeled "four", were blotted by ink.