WEBVTT Kind: captions Language: en 00:00:00.060 --> 00:00:04.740 A seven year old girl and her thirteen year old brother are settling in for their favorite 00:00:04.740 --> 00:00:07.320 after school activity - watching TV. 00:00:07.320 --> 00:00:12.060 The children’s parents won’t be home from work for several hours, and watching the after 00:00:12.060 --> 00:00:16.020 school programming together before making a snack is a staple of their day. 00:00:17.040 --> 00:00:21.420 The boy takes his normal position on the couch as the girl plants herself right in front 00:00:21.420 --> 00:00:23.220 of the television and turns it on. 00:00:23.880 --> 00:00:28.200 This is the time when Pretty Pony Paradise comes on and she never misses an episode. 00:00:28.200 --> 00:00:33.900 Her brother would prefer something else, but he also loves to see his sister happy so he 00:00:33.900 --> 00:00:36.060 always lets her watch the ponies have their adventures. 00:00:36.060 --> 00:00:40.440 Today though, when she turns to the right channel, there’s something else. 00:00:41.040 --> 00:00:46.080 Instead of the usual Pretty Pony theme song, circus music comes out of the television speakers. 00:00:46.860 --> 00:00:51.420 The girl watches as the brightly colored words “Bobble the Clown” appear on the screen. 00:00:52.260 --> 00:00:56.700 “Hey, this isn’t Pretty Ponies” she says to her brother, but when she looks back, 00:00:56.700 --> 00:00:57.900 he’s asleep. 00:00:57.900 --> 00:01:02.160 The girl isn’t happy, but she decides to give this new show a chance. 00:01:02.160 --> 00:01:05.040 And maybe her pony show will come on after anyway. 00:01:05.760 --> 00:01:10.080 The circus music stops and a happy looking clown cartwheels on to the screen. 00:01:10.080 --> 00:01:14.520 “Hello Kids!” the garish clown says, “Do you like… 00:01:14.520 --> 00:01:15.180 Fun?” 00:01:15.180 --> 00:01:16.980 The girl did like fun. 00:01:16.980 --> 00:01:19.860 Perhaps this new show wouldn’t be so bad. 00:01:20.460 --> 00:01:25.200 She watches as Bobble walks down the street of an average, happy American small town. 00:01:25.200 --> 00:01:29.460 Everyone seems to love the happy clown, waving at him as he passes by. 00:01:29.460 --> 00:01:33.360 Bobble pauses in front of a house where a man is mowing the lawn. 00:01:33.360 --> 00:01:38.340 He convinces the man to stop his yard work and join him, and the two happily head down 00:01:38.340 --> 00:01:39.300 the sidewalk together. 00:01:40.080 --> 00:01:44.640 The girl is a little confused by this show, there’s not much in the way of jokes, but 00:01:44.640 --> 00:01:46.140 she decides to keep watching anyway. 00:01:46.140 --> 00:01:51.600 Bobble and his new friend stop in front of a house that is painted to resemble a circus 00:01:51.600 --> 00:01:54.240 tent, this must be where Bobble lives. 00:01:54.240 --> 00:01:57.240 He invites the man in and they both enter the house. 00:01:57.240 --> 00:02:02.280 Inside, Bobble motions for the man to sit while he prepares some refreshments. 00:02:02.280 --> 00:02:04.980 The girl watches as Bobble moves to the kitchen. 00:02:04.980 --> 00:02:11.100 There he begins sharpening knives as he explains directly to the camera the best way to prepare 00:02:11.100 --> 00:02:15.540 meat - the way the skin must carefully be removed from the flesh, and how the bones 00:02:15.540 --> 00:02:17.820 should be saved for future soup stocks. 00:02:17.820 --> 00:02:22.260 The girl watches with fascination as Bobble teaches his special lesson. 00:02:22.260 --> 00:02:24.480 Maybe this is a good show after all. 00:02:24.480 --> 00:02:27.720 Maybe… this is her new favorite show. 00:02:28.980 --> 00:02:32.880 The girl gets up, her brother still asleep, and heads to the kitchen. 00:02:32.880 --> 00:02:38.220 She pulls out a drawer to help her reach the counter where the knife block is located and 00:02:38.220 --> 00:02:39.900 pulls out the meat cleaver. 00:02:40.500 --> 00:02:44.940 She looks at it gleaming in the light, entranced by its sharp, shiny edge. 00:02:46.200 --> 00:02:50.760 The girl returns to the living room and gets up onto the couch next to her sleeping brother. 00:02:50.760 --> 00:02:56.640 She watches as Bobble steps away from his pot of red, boiling meat, and looks right 00:02:56.640 --> 00:02:57.300 into the camera. 00:02:58.200 --> 00:03:01.140 The girl stands up and holds up the meat cleaver. 00:03:01.860 --> 00:03:06.780 Bobble walks towards the camera with fascination in his eyes, as if he can see through the 00:03:06.780 --> 00:03:08.700 screen and is watching the girl. 00:03:08.700 --> 00:03:16.380 She slowly raises the knife above her head as Bobble starts whispering “come on, do 00:03:16.380 --> 00:03:18.900 it” licking his lips in anticipation. 00:03:19.620 --> 00:03:25.080 The girl pauses for a second, looks at her sleeping brother one more time, and brings 00:03:25.080 --> 00:03:26.820 the cleaver down. 00:03:28.200 --> 00:03:28.800 Hi! 00:03:28.800 --> 00:03:34.260 I’m Dr. Bob, and this is SCP-993, also known as... 00:03:34.260 --> 00:03:36.000 Bobble the Clown. 00:03:36.660 --> 00:03:39.120 But first, there’s something I need from you. 00:03:39.120 --> 00:03:43.260 I need your help to spread the word about some of the lesser known anomalies in the 00:03:43.260 --> 00:03:45.780 SCP Foundation’s archives and the best way  00:03:45.780 --> 00:03:48.660 you can help is to subscribe,  turn on notifications, 00:03:48.660 --> 00:03:51.300 and then go tell your friends to do the same. 00:03:51.300 --> 00:03:54.720 This will help me bring you more and more SCP videos. 00:03:54.720 --> 00:03:57.240 Now, back to our file. 00:03:58.620 --> 00:04:04.500 SCP-993 is the designation the SCP Foundation has given to a children’s television program 00:04:04.500 --> 00:04:06.480 entitled “Bobble the Clown.” 00:04:06.480 --> 00:04:11.460 At first glance, the Bobble the Clown show appears to be a standard, children’s educational 00:04:11.460 --> 00:04:16.740 cartoon, with bright colors, a mascot, and a rote formula that involves the titular character 00:04:16.740 --> 00:04:20.940 of Bobble the Clown learning a new skill or engaging in a new activity. 00:04:20.940 --> 00:04:24.000 The program appears to have  no recurring supporting  00:04:24.000 --> 00:04:26.160 cast, with Bobble being the only character 00:04:26.160 --> 00:04:27.480 who returns to each episode. 00:04:27.480 --> 00:04:33.060 The settings usually change between episodes as well, with Bobble often being seen in a 00:04:33.060 --> 00:04:34.080 new or unique location. 00:04:35.220 --> 00:04:39.840 Despite appearing as a show made for children, the anomalous properties exhibited by this 00:04:39.840 --> 00:04:43.200 strange television program make themselves apparent almost immediately. 00:04:43.200 --> 00:04:49.080 First, anyone older than the age of ten who watches the show will immediately fall unconscious 00:04:49.080 --> 00:04:53.880 as soon as it begins, and will remain in a comatose state until the program ends. 00:04:53.880 --> 00:04:58.800 Upon waking, they will report having felt a painful, stabbing headache just prior to 00:04:58.800 --> 00:04:59.640 falling unconscious. 00:05:00.540 --> 00:05:04.800 The show’s most disturbing property though, is what has been described by those under 00:05:04.800 --> 00:05:06.900 the age of ten who are able to view the program. 00:05:07.680 --> 00:05:11.700 They report seeing Bobble the Clown teach lessons similar to the way many children’s 00:05:11.700 --> 00:05:16.740 shows extoll the virtues of good hygiene, or going to bed on time, but with Bobble, 00:05:16.740 --> 00:05:18.720 the lessons are quite different. 00:05:19.920 --> 00:05:24.780 Topics that Bobble has presented lessons on and encouraged children to try have included 00:05:24.780 --> 00:05:27.480 torture, murder, and even cannibalism. 00:05:27.480 --> 00:05:32.820 As the subject watches, the lessons appear to become ingrained in their minds, and repeated 00:05:32.820 --> 00:05:37.680 exposure to the show has resulted in permanent effects that resemble symptoms of psychosis 00:05:37.680 --> 00:05:38.880 and schizophrenia. 00:05:38.880 --> 00:05:43.860 Documented episodes of Bobble the Clown have included “Bobble in the Big City” in which 00:05:43.860 --> 00:05:48.480 Bobble appears in a large United States city reminiscent of New York, and instructs the 00:05:48.480 --> 00:05:52.800 viewer on various ways to avoid detection when lighting fires with common resources 00:05:52.800 --> 00:05:54.120 like mosquito coils. 00:05:54.120 --> 00:05:59.160 The episode ends with Bobble setting fire to a large building before he exits the screen. 00:05:59.160 --> 00:06:03.420 The camera continues to stay locked on the burning building for several more minutes 00:06:03.420 --> 00:06:05.520 as the sound of screams can be heard. 00:06:06.540 --> 00:06:11.940 In another titled “Bobble’s Sneaky Saturday,” Bobble is again in a major city, this time 00:06:11.940 --> 00:06:16.200 one that looks similar to London, England, with the Elizabeth Tower containing Big Ben 00:06:16.200 --> 00:06:17.220 visible in the background. 00:06:17.820 --> 00:06:22.560 In this episode, Bobble is shown to be quietly following a woman as she walks into her home. 00:06:22.560 --> 00:06:28.080 Once she arrives, Bobble attacks her with a large butcher knife before giving the audience 00:06:28.080 --> 00:06:30.540 tips on how to remain unnoticed in crowded places. 00:06:31.860 --> 00:06:37.380 “Bobble Gets the Truth” finds the clown in a prisoner of war camp, where Bobble is 00:06:37.380 --> 00:06:41.940 shown torturing a captured soldier as he asks him nonsensical questions that the soldier 00:06:41.940 --> 00:06:43.020 can not possibly answer. 00:06:43.020 --> 00:06:48.720 This continues until the prisoner dies, after which Bobble details methods for inflicting 00:06:48.720 --> 00:06:50.640 painful, but non-lethal injuries. 00:06:52.200 --> 00:06:57.180 “Bobble Hates You” is one of the most unnerving of the documented episodes, and 00:06:57.180 --> 00:07:02.400 consists of Bobble sitting alone in a blank room, silently and angrily staring at the 00:07:02.400 --> 00:07:04.260 viewer for a full thirty minutes. 00:07:05.160 --> 00:07:10.080 But the strangest of all is from an episode title filled with expletives, in which Bobble 00:07:10.080 --> 00:07:15.120 appears to be in a Foundation secure site video archive room - the same one where recordings 00:07:15.120 --> 00:07:17.040 of Bobble the Clown are stored. 00:07:17.760 --> 00:07:23.700 In this episode, a rage filled Bobble describes methods for breaching several SCP’s containment. 00:07:23.700 --> 00:07:26.820 He then gives personal  details about the researchers  00:07:26.820 --> 00:07:29.760 assigned to these SCPs including their daily 00:07:29.760 --> 00:07:34.080 routines before offering several potential ways to murder them. 00:07:34.860 --> 00:07:40.140 An interesting detail about this episode, at one point an animated depiction of a particular 00:07:40.140 --> 00:07:43.740 SCP Foundation researcher is seen to walk past Bobble. 00:07:43.740 --> 00:07:48.900 A clock on the wall shows the time, and this same researcher later confirmed that they 00:07:48.900 --> 00:07:54.120 did in fact walk through the video archive at this exact time, but had no recollection 00:07:54.120 --> 00:07:58.500 of seeing an animated Clown filming a television program in the room when they did so. 00:07:59.340 --> 00:08:04.260 Episodes of Bobble the Clown continue to be broadcast from an unknown source, but future 00:08:04.260 --> 00:08:09.180 episodes are to be intercepted using Protocol Upsilon-Beta 3 to prevent them from being 00:08:09.180 --> 00:08:09.960 seen by the public. 00:08:10.800 --> 00:08:15.780 All broadcasts are recorded for the Foundation’s archives and in order to perform research 00:08:15.780 --> 00:08:20.160 on the anomaly, subjects under the age of ten must be used to view them. 00:08:20.160 --> 00:08:24.900 Once the viewers have described what takes place in the episode, they are then to immediately 00:08:24.900 --> 00:08:27.120 be administered Class A amnestics. 00:08:27.780 --> 00:08:32.100 Despite the danger these episodes pose to those who view them, since they are able to 00:08:32.100 --> 00:08:38.580 be reliably blocked from public broadcast, SCP-993 has been classified as Safe, and for 00:08:38.580 --> 00:08:42.720 now, Bobble the Clown appears to be contained as well it can be. 00:08:43.860 --> 00:08:45.840 The sun rises over the battlefield. 00:08:45.840 --> 00:08:48.600 The American flag flaps gently in the wind. 00:08:48.600 --> 00:08:50.940 The world is silent. 00:08:51.480 --> 00:08:52.080 BANG! 00:08:52.800 --> 00:08:57.060 The door slams open, and the Boy runs out of the house, making plane noises with his 00:08:57.060 --> 00:08:57.180 mouth. 00:08:57.180 --> 00:09:02.880 The toy bomber in his hand arcs and soars, dipping, and diving as it makes its imaginary 00:09:02.880 --> 00:09:04.260 bombing run around the backyard. 00:09:04.260 --> 00:09:09.720 Over the sandbox, swooping low through the thick grass, past the pond, under the swingset, 00:09:09.720 --> 00:09:14.580 and up up and away into the sky, climbing higher and higher in the direction of the 00:09:14.580 --> 00:09:17.520 treehouse, with its American flag flapping in the morning breeze. 00:09:18.060 --> 00:09:19.260 What a perfect day. 00:09:19.260 --> 00:09:22.140 The Boy breathes in the air deeply and looks around. 00:09:22.140 --> 00:09:24.240 His shoulders slump. 00:09:24.240 --> 00:09:25.620 He’s bored already. 00:09:25.620 --> 00:09:28.140 Two seconds in the yard, and he’s already bored. 00:09:28.140 --> 00:09:30.840 What is there to do out here that he hasn’t already done? 00:09:30.840 --> 00:09:34.920 He’s played in the sand, he’s swung on the swings, he’s climbed up to the tree 00:09:34.920 --> 00:09:35.160 house. 00:09:35.940 --> 00:09:38.520 He hears the car engine kicking into life somewhere out front. 00:09:38.520 --> 00:09:41.220 His dad’s voice carries over to him on the breeze. 00:09:41.220 --> 00:09:42.960 ‘I’m running late for work, I’ll see you later. 00:09:42.960 --> 00:09:46.620 If you find my bag anywhere, don’t go looking inside of it, just tell me where it is when 00:09:46.620 --> 00:09:47.040 I get home. 00:09:47.040 --> 00:09:48.120 Love you, bye!’ 00:09:48.660 --> 00:09:52.980 The wheels crunch through the gravel driveway, and the engine's sound slowly fades into the 00:09:52.980 --> 00:09:57.000 distance, leaving the Boy alone in the backyard again with nothing but the wind for company. 00:09:57.000 --> 00:10:00.420 Great, now he’s got to find something to do for the whole day! 00:10:00.420 --> 00:10:03.540 He throws the toy bomber to the ground in frustration. 00:10:03.540 --> 00:10:06.660 A wing snaps off and bounces away into the flower bed. 00:10:06.660 --> 00:10:07.680 Uh oh. 00:10:07.680 --> 00:10:09.600 He’ll need to fix that before dad gets home. 00:10:09.600 --> 00:10:10.800 Super-glue! 00:10:10.800 --> 00:10:11.580 That’ll do the trick. 00:10:11.580 --> 00:10:14.280 There must be some inside, his dad is always fixing things. 00:10:15.180 --> 00:10:18.120 But the Boy’s mission is almost immediately sidetracked. 00:10:18.120 --> 00:10:23.040 As soon as he steps into the house he spots his dad’s bag, right by the backdoor, where 00:10:23.040 --> 00:10:24.120 he always forgets to look. 00:10:24.120 --> 00:10:26.520 The Boy looks at it curiously for a moment. 00:10:26.520 --> 00:10:29.280 He wonders what’s in there that his dad told him not to look at? 00:10:29.280 --> 00:10:31.140 He’ll just have a little peek. 00:10:31.140 --> 00:10:32.100 Not a proper look. 00:10:32.100 --> 00:10:33.600 He won’t even open the bag all the way. 00:10:33.600 --> 00:10:34.920 Just a little look inside. 00:10:34.920 --> 00:10:38.040 If anyone asks, he’ll say he was looking for super-glue. 00:10:38.640 --> 00:10:40.320 Wait… what’s that? 00:10:40.320 --> 00:10:41.520 It can’t be… 00:10:41.520 --> 00:10:45.480 A little pot with a red lid and big cartoonish letters on the side. 00:10:46.140 --> 00:10:46.740 Play-Doh? 00:10:46.740 --> 00:10:49.680 What’s his dad doing with a pot of Play-Doh in his bag? 00:10:49.680 --> 00:10:51.840 He thought his dad had a really grown-up job. 00:10:51.840 --> 00:10:53.400 That’s what his mom always says. 00:10:53.400 --> 00:10:55.800 His dad has a very secret grown-up job. 00:10:55.800 --> 00:10:56.640 Very important. 00:10:56.640 --> 00:10:57.360 Very secret. 00:10:57.360 --> 00:10:59.640 Is that really what he does at work all day? 00:10:59.640 --> 00:11:00.600 Play with Play-Doh? 00:11:00.600 --> 00:11:03.120 The Boy is far too grown up for Play-Doh. 00:11:03.120 --> 00:11:05.580 He hasn’t played with it for years because it’s for babies. 00:11:05.580 --> 00:11:07.560 No way is he going to play with it now. 00:11:07.560 --> 00:11:08.340 Nope. 00:11:08.340 --> 00:11:10.380 He’s a Big Boy who plays with real toys. 00:11:10.380 --> 00:11:13.500 But still, a little look won’t hurt. 00:11:13.500 --> 00:11:18.060 He’ll take it out, squeeze it in his hands a bit, remember how babyish it is and put 00:11:18.060 --> 00:11:18.420 it back. 00:11:18.420 --> 00:11:20.640 He definitely isn’t going to play with it. 00:11:21.180 --> 00:11:23.340 The Boy pops the red lid off and peers inside. 00:11:23.340 --> 00:11:25.260 Yep, just as he thought. 00:11:25.260 --> 00:11:26.220 Boring. 00:11:26.220 --> 00:11:27.960 Just a lump of red putty. 00:11:27.960 --> 00:11:30.960 Sitting there being all… all boring. 00:11:31.560 --> 00:11:35.280 But as the Boy tips the pot out into his hand it feels a bit weird. 00:11:35.280 --> 00:11:37.080 It moves a little in his palm. 00:11:37.080 --> 00:11:39.360 Is there an insect inside it or something? 00:11:39.360 --> 00:11:41.700 It feels like a pair of little legs. 00:11:41.700 --> 00:11:45.000 He rolls the lump over into his other hand and peers at it. 00:11:45.000 --> 00:11:47.520 Yes, a pair of legs sticking out from the red ball! 00:11:48.300 --> 00:11:50.700 Only, they’re not insect legs at all. 00:11:50.700 --> 00:11:54.360 They’re tiny, about the size of insect legs, but there are only two of them. 00:11:54.360 --> 00:11:58.680 They’re totally red, matching the color of the Play-Doh, and seem to have a tiny pair 00:11:58.680 --> 00:11:59.880 of boots on the ends of them. 00:12:00.480 --> 00:12:05.400 The legs wiggle around helplessly, sticking up into the air, until all of a sudden a hand 00:12:05.400 --> 00:12:06.780 appears sticking up out of the clay. 00:12:06.780 --> 00:12:10.740 It looks like a tiny person has somehow been buried in the Play-Doh upside down. 00:12:10.740 --> 00:12:15.840 The hand gets a good grip on the red ball and pushes and pulls at it, steadily freeing 00:12:15.840 --> 00:12:20.520 the rest of its body until suddenly a fully formed tiny man pops out of the surface! 00:12:21.240 --> 00:12:25.560 Roughly the size of the Boy’s fingernail, the little red man stands up straight and 00:12:25.560 --> 00:12:26.640 takes in his surroundings. 00:12:26.640 --> 00:12:31.380 Not only is the tiny person wearing boots, he’s also got a backpack and a helmet on 00:12:31.380 --> 00:12:33.720 his miniature head, all made of Play-Doh. 00:12:33.720 --> 00:12:38.400 In fact, this tiny person looks just like one of those little green army man toys that 00:12:38.400 --> 00:12:39.480 his dad had when he was little. 00:12:40.140 --> 00:12:44.340 The little soldier looks up and sees the Boy staring down at him, jumping back in fright. 00:12:44.340 --> 00:12:45.660 The Boy laughs. 00:12:45.660 --> 00:12:48.300 He guesses he must look pretty scary to someone so small. 00:12:48.300 --> 00:12:50.340 He smiles at the little army man. 00:12:50.340 --> 00:12:55.140 The little army man very slowly lowers himself down to his knees, reaching down to the Play-Doh 00:12:55.140 --> 00:12:56.220 floor he’s standing on. 00:12:56.220 --> 00:12:59.580 His little red hand seems to be feeling around for something in the putty. 00:12:59.580 --> 00:13:04.980 In fascination, the Boy stares closely as the Play-Doh under the soldier’s hand morphs 00:13:04.980 --> 00:13:07.020 into the shape of… what is that? 00:13:07.020 --> 00:13:07.920 A gun! 00:13:08.580 --> 00:13:12.720 The soldier lifts the tiny red rifle to his shoulder and points it straight at the Boy’s 00:13:12.720 --> 00:13:12.900 eye. 00:13:12.900 --> 00:13:16.320 He fires, and to the Boy’s surprise, something comes out. 00:13:16.320 --> 00:13:19.440 A stream of teeny tiny Play-Doh bullets pepper his eyeball. 00:13:19.980 --> 00:13:22.980 The Boy throws the Play-Doh ball as hard as he can and blinks hard. 00:13:22.980 --> 00:13:25.200 A tiny scream goes with it. 00:13:25.200 --> 00:13:28.860 The bullets didn’t really hurt that much but his eye is a little watery now. 00:13:28.860 --> 00:13:32.280 The tiny soldier has a real working tiny assault rifle. 00:13:32.280 --> 00:13:35.760 He’s starting to understand why his dad is still playing with Play-Doh. 00:13:36.300 --> 00:13:37.680 Where did that Play-Doh go? 00:13:37.680 --> 00:13:39.540 He must have thrown it into the backyard. 00:13:39.540 --> 00:13:41.700 The Boy runs outside and looks around. 00:13:41.700 --> 00:13:44.040 There it is, just next to the sandbox. 00:13:44.040 --> 00:13:48.180 He creeps up to the ball cautiously, trying to see if the little soldier is still there. 00:13:48.180 --> 00:13:50.280 Wait, hang on, there he is! 00:13:50.280 --> 00:13:51.120 No… 00:13:51.120 --> 00:13:51.720 there he is. 00:13:51.720 --> 00:13:52.800 Is that another one? 00:13:53.460 --> 00:13:56.520 He kneels and peers at the small crowd gathering around the ball. 00:13:56.520 --> 00:13:58.860 He can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. 00:13:58.860 --> 00:14:03.060 Dozens of little men are milling around the red ball, with more marching out of it in 00:14:03.060 --> 00:14:04.200 formation every few seconds. 00:14:04.200 --> 00:14:07.980 Little red Play-Doh tents are being erected in a perimeter around the ball. 00:14:07.980 --> 00:14:12.840 A couple of tiny soldiers chop down a twig with tiny red axes and start a campfire. 00:14:13.680 --> 00:14:18.180 A mini red jeep weaves its way through the grass, and a General hops out, with a cowering 00:14:18.180 --> 00:14:19.140 officer by his side. 00:14:19.140 --> 00:14:21.360 The tiny General barks tiny orders. 00:14:21.360 --> 00:14:24.840 It’s difficult to hear what the man is saying, but it sounds like he’s speaking English, 00:14:24.840 --> 00:14:26.460 only really high-pitched. 00:14:27.060 --> 00:14:31.080 He points to a group of soldiers who immediately rush over to the ball of Play-Doh and pull 00:14:31.080 --> 00:14:31.860 a ladder out of it. 00:14:31.860 --> 00:14:35.580 They rest the ladder against the edge of the sandbox, and a couple of them hurry their 00:14:35.580 --> 00:14:36.180 way to the top. 00:14:36.180 --> 00:14:40.860 Climbing up onto the wooden board, the pair of them split up, rifles in hand, checking 00:14:40.860 --> 00:14:41.700 the area is clear. 00:14:42.420 --> 00:14:44.340 The General is the next up the ladder. 00:14:44.340 --> 00:14:48.600 He surveys the yard with a battle-worn wariness, eyes coming to rest on the treehouse. 00:14:48.600 --> 00:14:53.520 He pulls out his binoculars and takes a good hard look at it, studying every inch of the 00:14:53.520 --> 00:14:55.920 tree before spotting the flagpole rising from the top. 00:14:55.920 --> 00:15:00.840 Lowering the binoculars with evident satisfaction, the General points a tiny hand at the enormous 00:15:00.840 --> 00:15:03.780 tree and cries out an order at the top of his little voice. 00:15:04.680 --> 00:15:06.900 A high pitch rises from the troops on the ground. 00:15:06.900 --> 00:15:09.180 They pump fists and slap backs. 00:15:09.180 --> 00:15:10.800 The army has grown already. 00:15:10.800 --> 00:15:15.360 As the Boy looks back down at the platoon gathering in the grass, he sees a dozen more 00:15:15.360 --> 00:15:16.320 tents have sprung up. 00:15:16.320 --> 00:15:20.400 A group of soldiers stand in formation around the ball of Play-Doh, keeping watch in every 00:15:20.400 --> 00:15:20.640 direction. 00:15:20.640 --> 00:15:24.420 And there, a soldier sits on an acorn crying. 00:15:24.420 --> 00:15:26.700 Helmet in his hands, he weeps openly. 00:15:26.700 --> 00:15:28.980 There is a red cross on the tent next to him. 00:15:28.980 --> 00:15:30.840 That must be the medical tent. 00:15:30.840 --> 00:15:34.020 The Boy crouches down on all fours and peers inside the tent. 00:15:34.020 --> 00:15:39.360 There on the tiny red bed, surrounded by tiny red nurses, lies a soldier. 00:15:39.960 --> 00:15:42.960 His legs are bent out of shape, and he’s crying out in pain. 00:15:42.960 --> 00:15:47.280 A doctor approaches and gives him the bad news, before readying the saw. 00:15:47.280 --> 00:15:48.960 The Boy sits back up. 00:15:48.960 --> 00:15:49.920 He can’t watch. 00:15:49.920 --> 00:15:54.360 A high-pitched cry echoes from the tent, loud enough to dampen the commotion around the 00:15:54.360 --> 00:15:54.960 rest of the camp. 00:15:55.620 --> 00:15:57.480 The Boy recognizes that scream. 00:15:57.480 --> 00:16:00.360 It’s the same scream he heard when he threw the Play-Doh out of the door. 00:16:00.360 --> 00:16:04.140 That first brave soldier, defending his brothers in arms from the giant. 00:16:04.140 --> 00:16:05.520 What had the Boy done? 00:16:05.520 --> 00:16:10.140 The soldier outside the medical tent picks up the phone and informs the tiny soldier’s 00:16:10.140 --> 00:16:11.820 tiny family what had happened. 00:16:11.820 --> 00:16:14.760 He had lost his legs, but not his life. 00:16:14.760 --> 00:16:16.980 He was a hero. 00:16:16.980 --> 00:16:19.080 The battalion is mobilizing. 00:16:19.080 --> 00:16:20.160 No time to mourn. 00:16:20.160 --> 00:16:24.540 Snipers climb the ladder onto the edge of the sandbox and set up nests all along the 00:16:24.540 --> 00:16:27.300 wooden beam, as trucks rumble through the thick grass below. 00:16:27.840 --> 00:16:31.980 On the other side of the sandbox wall, a desert platoon makes its way through the scorching 00:16:31.980 --> 00:16:32.160 heat. 00:16:32.160 --> 00:16:36.420 Soldiers sit atop tanks, shaking the last remaining drops of doughy water from their 00:16:36.420 --> 00:16:38.820 red bottles, and wiping sweat from their brows. 00:16:38.820 --> 00:16:41.700 All of them heading in the direction of the treehouse. 00:16:42.360 --> 00:16:44.820 The Boy stands up, surrounded by tiny soldiers. 00:16:44.820 --> 00:16:48.120 He has to be careful where he steps now as they fill the grass around him. 00:16:48.120 --> 00:16:52.020 A couple of tanks rumble between his feet, flattening the blades of grass as if they 00:16:52.020 --> 00:16:52.740 were as weak as… 00:16:52.740 --> 00:16:54.720 well, blades of grass. 00:16:55.380 --> 00:16:59.100 All of the soldiers, all of the equipment and vehicles, everything is coming from the 00:16:59.100 --> 00:17:00.600 little ball of red Play-Doh. 00:17:00.600 --> 00:17:02.820 And ‘little’ is the right word for it. 00:17:02.820 --> 00:17:06.480 With every new unit deployed to the frontline, the ball shrinks slightly. 00:17:06.480 --> 00:17:08.640 It’s getting smaller and smaller by the minute. 00:17:08.640 --> 00:17:10.380 They’re gonna need reinforcements! 00:17:11.040 --> 00:17:15.660 The Boy rushes into the house and returns in just a few seconds, arms ladened with Play-Doh. 00:17:15.660 --> 00:17:17.820 He’s got every pot of it from when he was little. 00:17:17.820 --> 00:17:22.080 He pops them all open, one after the other, and throws them onto the floor in the midst 00:17:22.080 --> 00:17:22.500 of the camp. 00:17:22.500 --> 00:17:27.300 The only slight issue is that all the Play-Doh is that gross brown color that it goes when 00:17:27.300 --> 00:17:28.320 you mix all the colors together. 00:17:28.320 --> 00:17:30.120 That won’t matter, will it? 00:17:30.780 --> 00:17:33.480 Gunfire breaks out almost immediately below him. 00:17:33.480 --> 00:17:37.380 The Boy jumps back in surprise, stepping on a communications mast by accident. 00:17:37.380 --> 00:17:42.060 Tiny brown soldiers rush out of the Play-Doh balls all around the camp, diving into cover 00:17:42.060 --> 00:17:43.800 and opening fire on the red soldiers. 00:17:43.800 --> 00:17:45.300 It’s a massacre. 00:17:45.300 --> 00:17:49.560 Red soldiers, taking a rest from the frontline, calling their loved ones, getting ready to 00:17:49.560 --> 00:17:53.520 go home on leave, lying injured in beds, all of them are gunned down. 00:17:54.240 --> 00:17:56.520 Most don’t even have a chance to grab their rifles. 00:17:56.520 --> 00:17:59.340 One brave red soldier  sprints to the communications  00:17:59.340 --> 00:18:01.800 mast and tries to radio the rest of the battalion, 00:18:01.800 --> 00:18:04.680 telling them what’s happened, but the mast is destroyed. 00:18:04.680 --> 00:18:08.700 A stray bullet catches him in the side of his head and he crumbles to the ground, just 00:18:08.700 --> 00:18:10.200 a lifeless blob of Play-Doh. 00:18:10.920 --> 00:18:15.600 The Boy watches in horror as a couple of brown soldiers pick up the body and toss it into 00:18:15.600 --> 00:18:17.280 the nearest ball of brown Play-Doh. 00:18:17.280 --> 00:18:21.780 A dedicated team of them mix the body in with the rest of the Doh until it’s that same 00:18:21.780 --> 00:18:22.440 brown color. 00:18:22.440 --> 00:18:25.560 From the blob emerges a new brown soldier. 00:18:25.560 --> 00:18:29.880 The small red streak running across his heart is the only sign that he’d ever been a red 00:18:29.880 --> 00:18:30.240 at all. 00:18:30.960 --> 00:18:35.340 The soldier quickly disappears amongst the mass of helmets and boots, trampling any trace 00:18:35.340 --> 00:18:36.360 of the red army. 00:18:37.020 --> 00:18:39.480 The whole yard erupts in tiny warfare. 00:18:39.480 --> 00:18:43.380 The red snipers lining the walls of the sandbox are picked off one after the other. 00:18:43.380 --> 00:18:48.000 The desert platoon are ambushed by landmines and quickly surrounded, hiding in broken down 00:18:48.000 --> 00:18:50.580 tanks as plumes of sand are thrown up all around them. 00:18:51.180 --> 00:18:54.120 Before long, the brown troops have them completely surrounded. 00:18:54.660 --> 00:18:58.800 One last soldier bursts out from the hatch in his tank, holding grenades in each hand. 00:18:58.800 --> 00:19:02.400 The bullet catches him in the head before he can even finish his war cry. 00:19:02.400 --> 00:19:06.120 The grenades explode harmlessly, nowhere near the brown troops. 00:19:06.120 --> 00:19:10.320 The red convoy, on its way to the tree, stands the best chance of survival. 00:19:10.320 --> 00:19:14.580 The Boy follows them with fascination, watching as the brown army fight their way through 00:19:14.580 --> 00:19:18.540 the red line from the back, splitting it through the middle as their superior firepower makes 00:19:18.540 --> 00:19:20.700 short work of the transport and supply trucks. 00:19:21.240 --> 00:19:25.680 Some red soldiers dive away into the thick grass, climbing up dandelions and weeds in 00:19:25.680 --> 00:19:26.640 a desperate attempt to escape. 00:19:27.300 --> 00:19:31.080 Few succeed as the bodies fall back into the mud like rain drops. 00:19:31.680 --> 00:19:33.780 A tiny screaming noise fills the yard. 00:19:33.780 --> 00:19:37.620 The Boy turns around just in time to jump out of the way of the brown fighter jets. 00:19:37.620 --> 00:19:40.800 Five of them streak through the air, almost at his head height. 00:19:40.800 --> 00:19:45.060 Missiles fire out of the bottom of each jet, one after the other, blowing apart what little 00:19:45.060 --> 00:19:46.500 remains of the red convoy. 00:19:46.500 --> 00:19:48.720 The gunfire dies down within the hour. 00:19:48.720 --> 00:19:52.920 Skirmishes break out across the yard as brown patrols pick off the stragglers they find 00:19:52.920 --> 00:19:57.600 from the red army hiding in ants nests, under fallen leaves, and huddling around broken-down 00:19:57.600 --> 00:19:58.140 vehicles. 00:19:58.980 --> 00:20:04.080 The Boy watches as several high-ranking officers gather in the brown base to oversee the absorption 00:20:04.080 --> 00:20:05.820 of the last of the red ball of Play-Doh. 00:20:05.820 --> 00:20:10.440 They mold themselves a big meeting table with a brown map of the yard and plot out their 00:20:10.440 --> 00:20:15.060 strategy for taking the tree house for themselves, moving around even tinier little model units 00:20:15.060 --> 00:20:16.620 across the surface of it with sticks. 00:20:16.620 --> 00:20:20.640 The plan quickly comes together before the Boy’s eyes and under his feet. 00:20:20.640 --> 00:20:24.900 A series of mortars and surface-to-air missiles are deployed along the wall of the sandbox. 00:20:24.900 --> 00:20:29.340 The air force takes over the original brown base, chopping down blades of grass and laying 00:20:29.340 --> 00:20:31.560 out Play-Doh runways flanked with brown hangars. 00:20:31.560 --> 00:20:36.000 A ring of military units surround the base of the treehouse, strategizing about how best 00:20:36.000 --> 00:20:38.340 to ascend the colossal structure and reach the flagpole. 00:20:39.000 --> 00:20:43.800 In the pond, an aircraft carrier splashes into the water, marking the arrival of the 00:20:43.800 --> 00:20:43.920 navy. 00:20:43.920 --> 00:20:48.600 The ship is soon flanked by a pair of destroyers, armed with anti-aircraft missiles. 00:20:48.600 --> 00:20:52.800 The Boy is about to go over and peer into the water to try and spot a nuclear submarine, 00:20:52.800 --> 00:20:54.840 when he comes across a sight for sore eyes. 00:20:55.500 --> 00:20:56.520 Red soldiers. 00:20:56.520 --> 00:21:00.300 Not much more than a singular squadron, hunkered down around the base of the swing set. 00:21:00.300 --> 00:21:03.960 They’ve covered themselves in dirt and little clumps of moss to camouflage. 00:21:03.960 --> 00:21:08.880 They must be the forward-most scout squadron, just far enough away from that original convoy 00:21:08.880 --> 00:21:09.720 to escape the slaughter. 00:21:10.260 --> 00:21:11.160 But what are they doing? 00:21:11.160 --> 00:21:13.740 The units are all gathered around a pile of leaves. 00:21:13.740 --> 00:21:16.200 There’s something underneath, what is it? 00:21:16.200 --> 00:21:17.520 It looks like plastic. 00:21:17.520 --> 00:21:18.840 Of course! 00:21:18.840 --> 00:21:20.940 It’s his toy bomber with the broken wing. 00:21:20.940 --> 00:21:25.080 Trying not to draw the attention of the brown army, the Boy drops to the floor next to the 00:21:25.080 --> 00:21:27.360 red units, doing his best to hide in the grass. 00:21:27.360 --> 00:21:30.120 The red soldiers are arguing amongst themselves. 00:21:30.120 --> 00:21:31.380 The General is there. 00:21:31.380 --> 00:21:33.360 He’s survived but barely. 00:21:33.360 --> 00:21:35.100 slumped against the blade of grass. 00:21:35.100 --> 00:21:39.600 The scouts’ high-pitched arguing is a little too quiet for the Boy to make out, but it’s 00:21:39.600 --> 00:21:40.680 pretty clear what’s going on. 00:21:40.680 --> 00:21:45.120 They need to get the toy plane working, but it’ll be hopeless without the other wing. 00:21:45.780 --> 00:21:47.820 He lifts his head and looks around the yard. 00:21:47.820 --> 00:21:48.900 There it is! 00:21:48.900 --> 00:21:49.740 In the flower bed. 00:21:49.740 --> 00:21:51.960 But it’s surrounded by brown troops. 00:21:51.960 --> 00:21:55.500 How could the red soldiers possibly fight their way to it and get back unharmed? 00:21:56.100 --> 00:21:56.820 Oh, wait. 00:21:56.820 --> 00:22:00.720 The Boy just gets up, walks over to the flower bed, and picks up the wing. 00:22:00.720 --> 00:22:03.300 In about three seconds, he  completes an insurmountable  00:22:03.300 --> 00:22:04.620 effort for those little soldiers. 00:22:04.620 --> 00:22:07.440 Kneeling next to them, he offers the missing wing. 00:22:07.440 --> 00:22:09.540 The scouts all stand back warily. 00:22:09.540 --> 00:22:12.780 It’s the General who climbs to his face and walks over to the Boy. 00:22:12.780 --> 00:22:17.580 He looks at the plastic wing, looks up at the giant towering over him, and raises his 00:22:17.580 --> 00:22:18.660 arm in a salute. 00:22:19.380 --> 00:22:22.920 The others follow suit quickly and get to work repairing the toy plane. 00:22:22.920 --> 00:22:26.520 Brown soldiers notice the commotion and start to close in on them. 00:22:26.520 --> 00:22:27.840 They don’t have much time. 00:22:27.840 --> 00:22:30.360 The Boy stamps out a runway for the soldiers in the grass. 00:22:30.360 --> 00:22:34.620 The plane is almost ready to go but is missing one vital piece of the propeller. 00:22:34.620 --> 00:22:38.280 Only there’s a bigger problem: they’re out of red Play-Doh. 00:22:39.000 --> 00:22:43.200 A brown soldier breaks through the thick grass and rushes towards the squadron, his assault 00:22:43.200 --> 00:22:45.480 rifle peppering the side of the plane with doughy bullets. 00:22:45.480 --> 00:22:48.900 The scouts all dive into the vehicle and kick the engine into gear. 00:22:48.900 --> 00:22:53.520 Little red gears and pistons whir into life beneath the plastic, but the plane just isn’t 00:22:53.520 --> 00:22:54.720 moving without the propeller. 00:22:54.720 --> 00:22:55.680 What can they do? 00:22:56.400 --> 00:22:59.340 The brown soldier stops in his tracks, staring at the plane. 00:22:59.340 --> 00:23:01.080 The Boy peers at him closer. 00:23:01.080 --> 00:23:03.240 There’s a red streak across his heart. 00:23:03.240 --> 00:23:05.880 Conflict contorts the tiny soldier’s face. 00:23:05.880 --> 00:23:08.820 The door to the plane opens, and out steps the General. 00:23:08.820 --> 00:23:13.620 The two soldiers face each other on the runway, the red scouts desperately calling the General 00:23:13.620 --> 00:23:14.460 to get back in. 00:23:14.460 --> 00:23:15.720 None of them move. 00:23:15.720 --> 00:23:19.560 The brown soldier raises his rifle and shoots the General in the head. 00:23:19.560 --> 00:23:21.480 The older man crumples to the ground. 00:23:21.480 --> 00:23:23.880 Inside the plane, the scouts start to panic. 00:23:23.880 --> 00:23:25.200 They don’t have their guns with them. 00:23:25.200 --> 00:23:27.780 The brown army is bearing down on them from all sides. 00:23:27.780 --> 00:23:28.860 What can they do? 00:23:28.860 --> 00:23:33.000 The brown soldier with the streak across his heart walks slowly over to the General’s 00:23:33.000 --> 00:23:35.280 body, stoops down, and picks him up. 00:23:35.280 --> 00:23:39.960 He carries the body around to the front of the plane and, without a word, starts using 00:23:39.960 --> 00:23:41.880 the Play-Doh to build them a propeller. 00:23:42.420 --> 00:23:45.240 Brown soldiers burst through the grass, swarming the runway. 00:23:45.240 --> 00:23:47.040 They need to leave now or never! 00:23:47.580 --> 00:23:52.080 The brown soldier places the propeller onto the plane and steps aside as the vehicle roars 00:23:52.080 --> 00:23:53.100 off along the runway. 00:23:53.100 --> 00:23:58.080 He salutes the ascending plane as one of his brown compatriots puts a bullet in his chest, 00:23:58.080 --> 00:23:59.700 right through his red heart. 00:23:59.700 --> 00:24:01.620 But the plane is already away. 00:24:01.620 --> 00:24:06.240 Lifting off into the sky, the toy bomber dodges and weaves its way between the whizzing bullets. 00:24:06.240 --> 00:24:10.200 It banks hard, pulling the nose around inch by inch to face the treehouse. 00:24:10.200 --> 00:24:13.740 The pilot guns it, pulling the tiny sticky back sharply. 00:24:13.740 --> 00:24:16.440 It seems to take an age for the bomber to climb. 00:24:16.440 --> 00:24:20.700 The Boy glances behind him just in time to see the brown navy launch their missiles. 00:24:20.700 --> 00:24:21.480 Six of them. 00:24:21.480 --> 00:24:24.720 All making a beeline for the bomber, or so it seems. 00:24:24.720 --> 00:24:28.860 At the last moment, he sticks a hand out and slaps the missiles out of the air. 00:24:28.860 --> 00:24:32.460 A couple of them explode, leaving streaks of brown Play-Doh on his hand. 00:24:32.460 --> 00:24:36.120 The others spiral to the ground, where tiny soldiers dive for cover. 00:24:36.120 --> 00:24:39.420 The brown air force scrambles, but it’s too late. 00:24:39.420 --> 00:24:43.920 As the jets shoot across the yard, the bomber has already reached its destination. 00:24:43.920 --> 00:24:48.720 The scouts jump out, deploying red Play-Doh parachutes as they circle their way down onto 00:24:48.720 --> 00:24:49.260 the flagpole. 00:24:49.260 --> 00:24:52.260 A jet catches up to the bomber and blows it out of the sky. 00:24:52.980 --> 00:24:56.460 The scouts don’t have time to mourn their lost pilot, or any of their dead for that 00:24:56.460 --> 00:24:56.640 matter. 00:24:56.640 --> 00:24:59.760 Quick as they can, they cut the American flag free. 00:24:59.760 --> 00:25:04.140 As it flutters and floats down to the grass, the squadron unfurls its replacement. 00:25:04.140 --> 00:25:08.460 A red rectangle of Play-Doh, barely a couple of inches across. 00:25:08.460 --> 00:25:12.720 One of them pulls a bugle from his pack and plays the highest pitched version of The Last 00:25:12.720 --> 00:25:14.040 Post you could ever hear. 00:25:14.640 --> 00:25:16.680 The whole battlefield falls silent to listen. 00:25:16.680 --> 00:25:21.180 The Boy places a hand over his heart, just as the first drop of rain hits his shoulder. 00:25:21.180 --> 00:25:24.000 From somewhere inside, his mom’s voice calls. 00:25:24.000 --> 00:25:25.380 ‘It’s about to start raining! 00:25:25.380 --> 00:25:26.700 Come inside before you catch a cold. 00:25:26.700 --> 00:25:28.320 I’m making cocoa!’ 00:25:28.320 --> 00:25:30.120 The Boy grins and runs into the house. 00:25:30.120 --> 00:25:36.480 Outside, the rain pours and all trace of the war washes away into red and brown streaks 00:25:36.480 --> 00:25:36.960 in the dirt. 00:25:37.560 --> 00:25:42.600 And with that, you’d be forgiven for thinking that SCP-705 had never even been in that young 00:25:42.600 --> 00:25:43.320 Boy’s backyard. 00:25:43.320 --> 00:25:47.760 Most adults would just dismiss the Boy’s afternoon entertainment as a figment of a 00:25:47.760 --> 00:25:53.100 child’s imagination, but most adults have not encountered SCP-705, otherwise known as 00:25:53.100 --> 00:25:54.480 ‘Militarized Play-Doh.’ 00:25:55.200 --> 00:25:59.760 The results of a redacted mega-corporation’s research into creating a “self-molding” 00:25:59.760 --> 00:26:04.200 product, the specific mechanics of how this Militarized Play-Doh was created are hazy, 00:26:04.200 --> 00:26:04.800 to say the least. 00:26:04.800 --> 00:26:09.300 What is known is that the small red blob of what appears to be the popular children’s 00:26:09.300 --> 00:26:12.600 sculpting toy exhibits aggressive militaristic tendencies. 00:26:12.600 --> 00:26:19.440 As soon as the 5oz pot is opened, SCP-705 activates, forming itself into miniature Play-Doh 00:26:19.440 --> 00:26:19.980 soldiers. 00:26:19.980 --> 00:26:25.800 Each unit comes dressed in detailed and accurate military fatigues, carrying miniaturized weaponry 00:26:25.800 --> 00:26:30.240 and equipment, all of which function identically to their real-life counterparts aside from 00:26:30.240 --> 00:26:33.720 one small detail: everything is made entirely from Play-Doh. 00:26:33.720 --> 00:26:39.900 When active, SCP-705 can divide into hundreds of infantrymen, each of which seems to have 00:26:39.900 --> 00:26:41.460 some level of personal autonomy. 00:26:41.460 --> 00:26:45.540 As of yet, no ‘hive mind’ mentality has been observed between the soldiers. 00:26:45.540 --> 00:26:50.040 They all communicate as their real-life military equivalents would, through barking orders, 00:26:50.040 --> 00:26:51.720 strategizing, and working together. 00:26:52.440 --> 00:26:58.560 Upon activation, each instance of SCP-705 is highly territorial, seeking to take immediate 00:26:58.560 --> 00:27:02.640 control of the nearest location or object that seems to be of ‘strategic importance’. 00:27:02.640 --> 00:27:05.400 This could be anything from a coffee machine to a treehouse. 00:27:06.060 --> 00:27:10.920 What appears innocuous household objects to us, pose an incredible tactical advantage 00:27:10.920 --> 00:27:15.180 to the tiny soldiers, many of whom are willing to sacrifice their lives to take control. 00:27:15.180 --> 00:27:20.040 The longer this Militarized Play-Doh is allowed to roam free, the more advanced the military 00:27:20.040 --> 00:27:20.940 unit becomes. 00:27:20.940 --> 00:27:25.860 Leadership figures emerge, battleplans grow more advanced, and technology improves. 00:27:26.520 --> 00:27:30.720 While the Play-Doh may initially take the form of a handful of infantry units, if left 00:27:30.720 --> 00:27:35.340 to their own devices, these units will soon be riding on the backs of tanks, firing miniguns 00:27:35.340 --> 00:27:39.420 through the doors of attack helicopters, or even developing rudimentary navys and air 00:27:39.420 --> 00:27:39.840 forces. 00:27:39.840 --> 00:27:45.480 And, of course, you have seen what happens when SCP-705 comes into contact with a regular 00:27:45.480 --> 00:27:46.320 pot of Play-Doh. 00:27:46.320 --> 00:27:50.820 The otherwise harmless putty will take on the same characteristics as this Militarized 00:27:50.820 --> 00:27:51.120 Play-Doh. 00:27:51.120 --> 00:27:55.200 If the two groups of soldiers are the same color, they will form an alliance. 00:27:55.200 --> 00:27:56.520 If they are different colors? 00:27:56.520 --> 00:27:58.560 Well, that’s where the fun begins. 00:27:58.560 --> 00:28:02.460 Containing SCP-705 is relatively straightforward. 00:28:02.460 --> 00:28:06.600 Simply gathering all of the Play-Doh together and putting it back into its 5oz pot with 00:28:06.600 --> 00:28:09.360 the lid closed will neutralize the tiny army entirely. 00:28:09.360 --> 00:28:16.020 This, coupled with how harmless the tiny doughy bullets are, means that SCP-705 requires little 00:28:16.020 --> 00:28:16.320 security. 00:28:16.320 --> 00:28:20.940 It is housed in Sector 2 Safe SCP containment, with the lid closed. 00:28:20.940 --> 00:28:25.080 The only accidental outbreak that has occurred since its containment has been in the break 00:28:25.080 --> 00:28:28.620 room when a researcher accidentally left the lid open while they went to the bathroom. 00:28:28.620 --> 00:28:33.180 When the researcher returned, all they needed to do to rescue their coffee from the clutches 00:28:33.180 --> 00:28:36.420 of a crazed Play-Doh general was brush a few soldiers off the counter. 00:28:36.420 --> 00:28:42.420 This is a day SCP-705 still talks about often with deep fear and reverence. 00:28:43.020 --> 00:28:47.340 The girl sighs and slumps in her seat, kicking at the back of the bucket seat in front of 00:28:47.340 --> 00:28:47.460 her. 00:28:47.460 --> 00:28:52.980 Her mother, sitting in the car’s front passenger side seat, doesn’t even notice; she’s 00:28:52.980 --> 00:28:56.400 too busy taking photographs out the window and chattering with her husband, who’s driving 00:28:56.400 --> 00:28:56.820 the car. 00:28:56.820 --> 00:29:01.380 That’s all they’ve been doing all day, and the girl is sick to death of it. 00:29:01.380 --> 00:29:06.120 Her parents dragged her on this stupid vacation trip, and now she’s got to waste her whole 00:29:06.120 --> 00:29:07.200 summer away from her friends. 00:29:07.200 --> 00:29:11.520 She stares out the window and watches the pastoral countryside slide past. 00:29:11.520 --> 00:29:16.620 The quaint little villages and rolling hillsides really excite her parents, but she could not 00:29:16.620 --> 00:29:17.220 care less. 00:29:17.940 --> 00:29:22.380 Mom and Dad planned this family vacation across Europe for months, but she would much rather 00:29:22.380 --> 00:29:24.180 have gone someplace interesting instead. 00:29:24.180 --> 00:29:28.320 There are only so many boring old castles and stupid cathedrals that you can look at 00:29:28.320 --> 00:29:29.880 before you just lose your mind. 00:29:31.260 --> 00:29:34.980 The girl sighs and crosses her arms across her chest in silent resignation. 00:29:34.980 --> 00:29:38.640 “Guess we’re just gonna look at more dumb buildings,” she mutters. 00:29:38.640 --> 00:29:40.140 “Honey, can you stop that? 00:29:40.140 --> 00:29:43.560 Your father worked really hard to put this trip together, and the least you could do 00:29:43.560 --> 00:29:47.580 is pretend to have a good time,” says her mother, momentarily lowering her camera to 00:29:47.580 --> 00:29:48.720 berate her ungrateful daughter. 00:29:49.560 --> 00:29:52.800 It’s the first time that her mother has acknowledged her all day. 00:29:53.520 --> 00:29:57.360 “I think you’re really gonna like today’s itinerary,” says her father, grinning as 00:29:57.360 --> 00:29:59.640 if he’s got a delicious secret that he can’t wait to share. 00:29:59.640 --> 00:30:03.900 “We know it’s been hard for you spending your whole summer away from home, so today 00:30:03.900 --> 00:30:05.760 we’re gonna do something just for you.” 00:30:05.760 --> 00:30:07.980 “Uh-huh,” says the girl. 00:30:07.980 --> 00:30:08.700 “Sure, dad.” 00:30:08.700 --> 00:30:11.340 She rolls her eyes and pulls out a cell phone. 00:30:11.340 --> 00:30:13.860 At least she can still get Internet access out here! 00:30:13.860 --> 00:30:18.060 Desperate for something to distract her from the monotony of this car trip, she quickly 00:30:18.060 --> 00:30:21.600 scrolls through her feed and reads all the notes that her friends back home are posting. 00:30:21.600 --> 00:30:22.740 She frowns. 00:30:23.280 --> 00:30:27.360 Her classmates are all posting about the latest blockbuster film in the girl’s favorite 00:30:27.360 --> 00:30:29.340 media franchise, Vampire Boyfriend. 00:30:29.340 --> 00:30:30.900 She grits her teeth. 00:30:30.900 --> 00:30:34.020 She likes to consider herself a Vampire Boyfriend super fan. 00:30:34.020 --> 00:30:38.340 She’s a well-known poster in the Vampire Boyfriend online community, famous for her 00:30:38.340 --> 00:30:41.940 fan fiction as well as her own original character: Vampire Girlfriend. 00:30:42.780 --> 00:30:45.300 In fact, her writing is somewhat controversial. 00:30:45.300 --> 00:30:49.920 A lot of Vampire Boyfriend purists have accused her character Vampire Girlfriend of being 00:30:49.920 --> 00:30:54.840 a Mary Sue, and they object to her stories where Vampire Boyfriend meets and falls madly 00:30:54.840 --> 00:30:58.320 in love with her – to the point that he forgets his canon lover from the film series, 00:30:58.320 --> 00:30:59.400 Vampire Wife. 00:30:59.400 --> 00:31:03.360 She’s annoyed to see that her friends got to see the new Vampire Boyfriend movie on 00:31:03.360 --> 00:31:06.720 opening night, while she’s stuck out here on this stupid family vacation! 00:31:06.720 --> 00:31:10.740 The movie won’t premiere in Europe for another few months, and there’s no way she’s going 00:31:10.740 --> 00:31:12.360 to be able to avoid spoilers for that long. 00:31:12.360 --> 00:31:17.580 Everything about this situation seems tailor-made to irritate her, and the excited giggles of 00:31:17.580 --> 00:31:21.720 her parents in the front of the car, as they exchange knowing glances, are only annoying 00:31:21.720 --> 00:31:22.080 her more. 00:31:22.080 --> 00:31:25.080 “Trust me, you’re going to love this!” says her father again. 00:31:25.080 --> 00:31:30.240 He peers at an unfolded roadmap in his lap, mutters something under his breath, and turns 00:31:30.240 --> 00:31:33.000 the car off the main highway and onto a narrow gravel road. 00:31:33.600 --> 00:31:38.400 The girl grits her teeth as the car rattles over the uneven ground so hard that it nearly 00:31:38.400 --> 00:31:40.560 jostles her cellphone from her grasp. 00:31:40.560 --> 00:31:44.640 She tries to distract herself by typing some notes to herself, plot points for the latest 00:31:44.640 --> 00:31:46.980 Vampire Boyfriend fanfiction that she’s working on. 00:31:46.980 --> 00:31:52.740 In her new story, Vampire Girlfriend is going to be kidnapped by werewolves, leading Vampire 00:31:52.740 --> 00:31:57.000 Boyfriend to have an existential crisis as he struggles to find meaning in a world without 00:31:57.000 --> 00:31:57.660 his beloved. 00:31:58.380 --> 00:32:02.580 She makes a note that Vampire Girlfriend should look, dress, and talk just like her. 00:32:02.580 --> 00:32:06.840 After all, she imagines, wouldn’t she be the perfect match for Vampire Boyfriend? 00:32:07.740 --> 00:32:12.360 She pauses, a momentary dreamy expression on her face, as she imagines how much better 00:32:12.360 --> 00:32:16.440 a weekend together with Vampire Boyfriend would be compared to this boring car trip. 00:32:16.440 --> 00:32:19.500 “This can’t be right,” mumbles her father, scanning the horizon. 00:32:19.500 --> 00:32:21.060 “But the directions said…” 00:32:21.060 --> 00:32:22.740 Suddenly he brightens up. 00:32:22.740 --> 00:32:23.220 “Oh! 00:32:23.220 --> 00:32:23.820 There it is! 00:32:23.820 --> 00:32:24.600 Playland!” 00:32:24.600 --> 00:32:28.680 The girl cranes her neck to see that the car is fast approaching what appears to be a little 00:32:28.680 --> 00:32:29.820 carnival at the end of the road. 00:32:29.820 --> 00:32:31.140 She rolls her eyes. 00:32:31.140 --> 00:32:32.220 Oh, great. 00:32:32.220 --> 00:32:34.200 Of course, her parents would take her here! 00:32:34.200 --> 00:32:38.940 First, they bore her with endless visits to museums and historical sights, and now, when 00:32:38.940 --> 00:32:41.940 they want to make it all up to her, they take her to a carnival for babies. 00:32:42.660 --> 00:32:46.560 She’s not a kid anymore, but her parents still think that this sort of goofy nonsense 00:32:46.560 --> 00:32:47.280 should excite her. 00:32:47.940 --> 00:32:51.300 “I know you’ve been bored going to all the historical sites with us, honey pumpkin,” 00:32:51.300 --> 00:32:55.140 says her father as he pulls the car into a parking slot and applies the brake. 00:32:55.140 --> 00:32:58.980 “That’s why I asked the hotel concierge if there was anything good around here for 00:32:58.980 --> 00:32:59.160 kids. 00:32:59.160 --> 00:33:02.880 And, wouldn’t you know it, the next morning, what did I find shoved under our door? 00:33:02.880 --> 00:33:03.960 Three free tickets!” 00:33:04.680 --> 00:33:07.200 He holds up the tickets as if they were a trophy he’d won. 00:33:07.200 --> 00:33:09.060 The girl’s mother nods approvingly. 00:33:09.060 --> 00:33:10.020 “Now that’s good service. 00:33:10.020 --> 00:33:11.820 I hope you left him a big tip.” 00:33:11.820 --> 00:33:12.960 The girl groans. 00:33:12.960 --> 00:33:14.580 “You can’t be serious, dad! 00:33:14.580 --> 00:33:15.420 A carnival? 00:33:15.420 --> 00:33:17.700 What, do you expect me to ride on the tea cups or something? 00:33:17.700 --> 00:33:18.600 I’m 15! 00:33:18.600 --> 00:33:19.920 I’m not a dumb baby anymore!” 00:33:20.880 --> 00:33:24.780 “Language, young lady,” admonishes her mother as she unbuckles her seat belt. 00:33:24.780 --> 00:33:27.960 “Your father worked really hard to find this place just for you. 00:33:27.960 --> 00:33:30.720 The least you could do is show a little gratitude for once!” 00:33:31.320 --> 00:33:33.720 “Oh, you think you’re too old NOW,” says her father. 00:33:33.720 --> 00:33:38.580 “But I bet, once we see some of these rides, boy, I’ll bet you feel just like a kid again!” 00:33:38.580 --> 00:33:40.320 He inhales deeply. 00:33:40.320 --> 00:33:45.120 Even inside the car, the unmistakable fair smells of funnel cake and corn dogs are in 00:33:45.120 --> 00:33:45.360 the air. 00:33:45.360 --> 00:33:46.260 “You smell that? 00:33:46.260 --> 00:33:47.280 Smells like fun!” 00:33:48.120 --> 00:33:48.840 “Sure. 00:33:48.840 --> 00:33:49.320 Fun.” 00:33:49.320 --> 00:33:51.120 The girl pockets her cellphone. 00:33:51.720 --> 00:33:55.440 The family exits the car and walks toward the Playland gate, where they’re greeted 00:33:55.440 --> 00:33:56.640 by a costumed employee. 00:33:56.640 --> 00:33:57.900 "Welcome to Playland!" 00:33:57.900 --> 00:34:00.240 announces the employee in a chipper voice. 00:34:00.240 --> 00:34:01.680 “Your favorite amusement park! 00:34:01.680 --> 00:34:05.700 When you’re at Playland, you’ll find that the worries of the day melt away… and it’s 00:34:05.700 --> 00:34:06.540 time for play!” 00:34:06.540 --> 00:34:09.060 “Oh, you speak English,” says the father. 00:34:09.060 --> 00:34:10.200 He turns to the mother. 00:34:10.200 --> 00:34:10.860 “See? 00:34:10.860 --> 00:34:11.700 Now that’s service!” 00:34:11.700 --> 00:34:13.800 He hands over the complimentary tickets. 00:34:13.800 --> 00:34:17.640 The employee takes them with a smile and a flourish and then ushers the family through 00:34:17.640 --> 00:34:17.940 the gate. 00:34:17.940 --> 00:34:21.180 The girl, however, can’t stop staring at the gatekeeper. 00:34:21.180 --> 00:34:25.260 If she didn’t know any better, she would think that he was dressed like Vampire Boyfriend? 00:34:25.260 --> 00:34:27.000 But that doesn’t make any sense. 00:34:27.000 --> 00:34:28.560 It must just be a coincidence. 00:34:28.560 --> 00:34:32.700 But once they enter the park, she sees that all the employees are dressed like Vampire 00:34:32.700 --> 00:34:33.000 Boyfriend! 00:34:33.000 --> 00:34:37.200 The guy standing behind the counter of the ring toss booth, the guy manning the balloon 00:34:37.200 --> 00:34:40.860 station… the uniform for this part looks like the outfit that she imagined Vampire 00:34:40.860 --> 00:34:43.140 Boyfriend would be wearing in her first fan fiction story! 00:34:43.140 --> 00:34:47.400 “Wait…” says the girl, staring up at the bundle of helium balloons floating above 00:34:47.400 --> 00:34:48.180 the balloon vendor. 00:34:48.180 --> 00:34:53.520 Each balloon bears the name “Vampire Boyfriend” and the fanged bat logo of the film series. 00:34:53.520 --> 00:34:55.680 So it’s not a coincidence at all? 00:34:55.680 --> 00:34:58.800 This theme park really is themed after her favorite films? 00:34:58.800 --> 00:35:02.571 Her father notices her change of expression and he nudges her in the ribs. 00:35:02.571 --> 00:35:02.577 “Eh? 00:35:02.577 --> 00:35:02.580 Eh? 00:35:02.580 --> 00:35:04.920 I told you that you’d like it… 00:35:04.920 --> 00:35:07.200 This is all about those movies you like so much, huh? 00:35:07.200 --> 00:35:08.400 Ghost Boyfriend or whatever?” 00:35:09.420 --> 00:35:14.220 “It’s Vampire Boyfriend, Dad,” she says distantly, but she’s too mesmerized by her 00:35:14.220 --> 00:35:16.020 surroundings to put much feeling into the barb. 00:35:16.020 --> 00:35:20.340 “How much for a balloon?” asks her father, pulling open his wallet and quickly thumbing 00:35:20.340 --> 00:35:21.600 through a stack of local currency. 00:35:21.600 --> 00:35:24.420 “Oh, no charge!” says the balloon vendor brightly. 00:35:24.420 --> 00:35:26.640 He plucks a string from the bundle and hands it over. 00:35:26.640 --> 00:35:29.460 “Everything’s free for our valued special ticket holders!” 00:35:29.460 --> 00:35:32.340 “Well, would you listen to that!” says her father. 00:35:32.340 --> 00:35:34.560 He replaces his wallet in his back pocket. 00:35:34.560 --> 00:35:37.500 “Now, this is the kind of carnival that I wish we had back in the States!” 00:35:37.500 --> 00:35:40.140 The girl awkwardly takes the proffered balloon. 00:35:40.140 --> 00:35:43.620 She feels silly holding it, but she’s more confused about why it’s free. 00:35:43.620 --> 00:35:48.000 The whole point of offering free entry into a carnival is to gouge people with over-priced 00:35:48.000 --> 00:35:49.200 rides and souvenirs, right? 00:35:49.200 --> 00:35:54.060 But everywhere she looks, she can’t help but notice signs advertising “Free corn 00:35:54.060 --> 00:35:55.560 dogs!” and “Bumpers Cars! 00:35:55.560 --> 00:35:57.240 Unlimited Rides for $000.” 00:35:57.240 --> 00:36:01.080 How can this carnival make enough money to keep operating if it’s not charging for 00:36:01.080 --> 00:36:01.260 anything? 00:36:01.260 --> 00:36:05.400 In fact, how can this carnival make enough money to keep operating when it’s based 00:36:05.400 --> 00:36:07.200 around a niche film like Vampire Boyfriend? 00:36:07.200 --> 00:36:11.460 Are there really that many Vampire Boyfriend fans out here to keep this place in business? 00:36:11.460 --> 00:36:13.440 Not that there’s anyone else around. 00:36:13.440 --> 00:36:18.600 As she scans her surroundings, she realizes that, while there are plenty of costumed employees 00:36:18.600 --> 00:36:21.900 bustling around the fair, she doesn’t see any other fair goers. 00:36:21.900 --> 00:36:26.040 It’s as if this whole carnival was created and maintained solely for her benefit! 00:36:26.820 --> 00:36:28.020 “Hey, pumpkin, how about some ride? 00:36:28.020 --> 00:36:31.200 I bet you’d love to try out some bumper cars, huh?” says her father. 00:36:31.200 --> 00:36:35.340 “How about we take a race, and you see if you can beat your old man, huh?” 00:36:35.340 --> 00:36:37.740 He points to a bumper car ride across the midway. 00:36:37.740 --> 00:36:39.060 The girl stares. 00:36:39.060 --> 00:36:43.020 Like all the other rides, it’s covered in Vampire Boyfriend murals. 00:36:43.020 --> 00:36:47.580 This one depicts a young woman running away from a pack of werewolves – and the young 00:36:47.580 --> 00:36:49.080 woman looks almost exactly like the girl. 00:36:49.080 --> 00:36:52.260 It couldn’t be… but there’s no other explanation! 00:36:52.260 --> 00:36:56.160 The young woman in the mural matches exactly the description of the girl’s character 00:36:56.160 --> 00:36:58.320 Vampire Girlfriend from her fan fiction story! 00:36:58.320 --> 00:37:01.920 And the image of the werewolves looks like it’s an illustration of the scene where 00:37:01.920 --> 00:37:03.480 Vampire Girlfriend gets kidnapped. 00:37:03.480 --> 00:37:05.640 How could this be? 00:37:05.640 --> 00:37:10.500 Could it be that the artist, obviously a fan of the Vampire Boyfriend films, is also familiar 00:37:10.500 --> 00:37:11.520 with her fan fiction? 00:37:11.520 --> 00:37:15.720 But even if that was the case, it’s absurd to think that he would use it as inspiration 00:37:15.720 --> 00:37:16.740 for a theme park ride! 00:37:17.700 --> 00:37:20.400 Who other than her would possibly recognize this scene? 00:37:21.240 --> 00:37:24.960 “Hmm,” says the girl’s mother, walking up behind her and peering at the mural. 00:37:24.960 --> 00:37:27.180 “Why, that girl looks just like you.” 00:37:27.180 --> 00:37:27.660 “I know! 00:37:27.660 --> 00:37:29.520 She does!” says the girl quickly. 00:37:29.520 --> 00:37:33.780 It’s almost a relief to know that her mother has also noticed the resemblance; at least 00:37:33.780 --> 00:37:35.400 it means that she’s not imagining things. 00:37:35.400 --> 00:37:38.280 At the same time, she feels a twinge of guilt. 00:37:38.280 --> 00:37:42.660 Readers online are always accusing her of using Vampire Girlfriend as a thinly disguised 00:37:42.660 --> 00:37:43.320 self-insert. 00:37:43.320 --> 00:37:47.040 Seeing this larger-than-life picture of Vampire Girlfriend makes her think that there might 00:37:47.040 --> 00:37:48.360 be some merit to the accusation! 00:37:48.360 --> 00:37:51.840 “Come on, you lot, stop worrying about some old picture and let’s have some fun!” 00:37:51.840 --> 00:37:52.800 says her father. 00:37:52.800 --> 00:37:56.880 He offers money to the ticket taker parked behind the kiosk, but that man merely shakes 00:37:56.880 --> 00:37:57.240 his head. 00:37:57.240 --> 00:38:00.600 “Your money is no good here, sir,” says the ticket taker. 00:38:00.600 --> 00:38:03.240 “The bumper cars are free for our favored guests today!" 00:38:03.240 --> 00:38:06.720 Her father clambers into the rink and ambles toward a bumper car. 00:38:06.720 --> 00:38:10.920 Her mother tugs at the girl’s arm as if to encourage her to join in, but the girl 00:38:10.920 --> 00:38:11.520 resists. 00:38:11.520 --> 00:38:12.240 “Come on! 00:38:12.240 --> 00:38:14.040 What’s gotten into you?” says her mother. 00:38:14.040 --> 00:38:16.800 “This place is just weird!” says the girl. 00:38:16.800 --> 00:38:20.460 “Like, half of the stuff here isn’t even from the official Vampire Boyfriend lore! 00:38:20.460 --> 00:38:22.560 It’s all stuff that I made up for my stories!” 00:38:23.160 --> 00:38:25.020 Her mother rolls her eyes in annoyance. 00:38:25.020 --> 00:38:28.620 “Really, we go to all this trouble to find something that you would like to do, and all 00:38:28.620 --> 00:38:29.460 you want to do is complain?” 00:38:30.180 --> 00:38:32.760 “I’m sorry, ma’am, is there some problem here?” 00:38:32.760 --> 00:38:35.460 The family is startled as another employee walks up to them. 00:38:35.460 --> 00:38:40.200 He’s also dressed like Vampire Boyfriend, and a wide smile is plastered across his face. 00:38:40.200 --> 00:38:42.300 “You folks look like you’re upset about something.” 00:38:42.960 --> 00:38:44.700 “You’re damn right I’m upset about something!” 00:38:44.700 --> 00:38:45.780 yells the girl. 00:38:45.780 --> 00:38:48.240 In her rage, she throws her drink at the employee. 00:38:48.240 --> 00:38:53.220 He barely reacts as the cup explodes against his chest, dousing him with sticky soda. 00:38:53.220 --> 00:38:54.480 “What’s going on here? 00:38:54.480 --> 00:38:56.040 Where did you hear about Vampire Girlfriend?” 00:38:56.040 --> 00:38:59.820 “Ma’am, Playland is designed to give every visitor the perfect experience!” 00:38:59.820 --> 00:39:01.560 says the employee blandly. 00:39:01.560 --> 00:39:02.640 “That’s not good enough! 00:39:02.640 --> 00:39:03.960 Tell me what’s going on here!” 00:39:03.960 --> 00:39:06.480 The employee’s attitude changes on a dime. 00:39:06.480 --> 00:39:09.960 His bright smile fades and suddenly his tone turns stern. 00:39:09.960 --> 00:39:14.040 “Ma’am, I’m afraid that you’re going to ruin everyone’s fun if you keep up this 00:39:14.040 --> 00:39:14.760 sort of behavior. 00:39:14.760 --> 00:39:17.220 We like to keep things fun here at Playland. 00:39:17.220 --> 00:39:21.900 If you want to spoil the fun, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.” 00:39:22.560 --> 00:39:23.160 “Fine! 00:39:23.160 --> 00:39:23.880 Then we’ll leave!” 00:39:23.880 --> 00:39:26.280 “Oh, come on, young lady, we just got here!” 00:39:26.280 --> 00:39:27.300 snaps her mother. 00:39:27.300 --> 00:39:30.780 “We literally drove all day to get here and you want to leave after just one ride?” 00:39:30.780 --> 00:39:33.360 “You don’t even like rides!” 00:39:33.360 --> 00:39:37.140 “There’s a principle involved here,” says her father sternly as he saunters up. 00:39:37.140 --> 00:39:40.860 “Young lady, if that’s your attitude, then I think maybe you should go wait in the 00:39:40.860 --> 00:39:40.980 car! 00:39:40.980 --> 00:39:43.260 Because your mother and I intend to have a good time.” 00:39:43.260 --> 00:39:45.420 The girl doesn’t have a chance to argue. 00:39:45.420 --> 00:39:49.020 The employee rests his hands heavily on her shoulders and turns her around. 00:39:49.020 --> 00:39:52.140 “Don’t worry, folks, we’ll escort her back to your car. 00:39:52.140 --> 00:39:54.480 You can join her as well when you’re ready.” 00:39:54.480 --> 00:39:56.820 The girl cannot believe what’s happening! 00:39:56.820 --> 00:40:01.200 The employee politely but firmly steers her toward the exit, and frog marches her out 00:40:01.200 --> 00:40:01.560 the gate. 00:40:01.560 --> 00:40:06.300 He abandons her in the parking lot, tipping his hat and smiling brightly before he disappears 00:40:06.300 --> 00:40:07.140 back inside the park. 00:40:07.140 --> 00:40:11.160 “Please try to enjoy yourself, ma’am, until your parents are ready to join you. 00:40:11.160 --> 00:40:15.180 In the meantime, why don’t you work on that new fan fiction you’ve been planning?” 00:40:15.840 --> 00:40:16.860 “How do you know about that!?” 00:40:16.860 --> 00:40:17.820 yells the girl. 00:40:17.820 --> 00:40:22.020 The employee doesn’t answer, simply turning and fading back into the crowd. 00:40:22.020 --> 00:40:24.720 She rushes to the gate but the gatekeeper stops her. 00:40:25.320 --> 00:40:28.020 “Sorry, ma’am, no re-entry without a ticket!” 00:40:28.020 --> 00:40:29.100 “But I have a ticket!” 00:40:29.100 --> 00:40:29.940 she cries. 00:40:29.940 --> 00:40:30.660 “You saw it! 00:40:30.660 --> 00:40:32.460 My dad gave it to you, like, half an hour ago… 00:40:32.460 --> 00:40:33.360 come on. 00:40:33.360 --> 00:40:34.200 You can’t be serious!” 00:40:34.920 --> 00:40:39.120 She tries to push past him, but the gatekeeper grabs her wrists with surprising strength 00:40:39.120 --> 00:40:39.840 and holds her. 00:40:39.840 --> 00:40:44.100 Still smiling, he firmly escorts her back out to her car before releasing her. 00:40:44.100 --> 00:40:45.840 “Please, ma’am, don’t make a scene. 00:40:45.840 --> 00:40:47.700 You’re going to disturb our guests.” 00:40:48.300 --> 00:40:49.260 “Who’s in charge here? 00:40:49.260 --> 00:40:49.680 I… 00:40:49.680 --> 00:40:50.940 I need to talk to the manager! 00:40:50.940 --> 00:40:52.440 I want my parents back right now!” 00:40:53.040 --> 00:40:56.340 The gatekeeper doesn’t even respond; he simply returns to his station. 00:40:56.340 --> 00:40:59.400 There’s nothing that the girl can do now but wait. 00:40:59.400 --> 00:41:03.060 She sits down in the gravel and leans her back against the side of the car. 00:41:03.060 --> 00:41:06.840 Minutes turn to hours and still her parents haven’t returned. 00:41:06.840 --> 00:41:09.900 Eventually, she goes back to yell at the gate keeper again. 00:41:10.620 --> 00:41:11.700 “Where are my parents!? 00:41:11.700 --> 00:41:13.080 They should have been back hours ago!” 00:41:13.080 --> 00:41:16.560 “Sorry, ma’am, I guess your parents are just having too much fun right now. 00:41:16.560 --> 00:41:19.800 I’m sure you’ll see them again soon, though,” says the gatekeeper. 00:41:19.800 --> 00:41:23.160 The girl shivers as she feels a bite in the cool twilight air. 00:41:23.160 --> 00:41:26.160 She notices that the sun is starting to dip behind the mountains. 00:41:26.160 --> 00:41:27.300 It will be dark soon. 00:41:27.300 --> 00:41:29.040 How much longer could they take? 00:41:29.040 --> 00:41:33.060 Even if they decided to ride on every ride in the park, surely they would be done by 00:41:33.060 --> 00:41:33.240 now? 00:41:33.240 --> 00:41:37.620 “What times does the park close?” asks the girl, a note of panic rising in her voice. 00:41:38.340 --> 00:41:40.020 The gatekeeper blinks serenely. 00:41:40.020 --> 00:41:42.540 “Playland is open 24/7, ma’am. 00:41:42.540 --> 00:41:44.760 We’re always here when you want to play!” 00:41:45.600 --> 00:41:49.260 The girl feels the color drain from her face as she ponders the possibilities. 00:41:49.260 --> 00:41:52.800 Her father has the car keys, so she can’t take the car to go for help… 00:41:52.800 --> 00:41:56.280 She pulls out her cellphone, but she doesn’t know the number she would need to alert any 00:41:56.280 --> 00:41:57.060 local authorities. 00:41:57.900 --> 00:41:59.700 And it’s not like she speaks the language, anyway! 00:41:59.700 --> 00:42:04.140 Other than the employees here at Playland, she hasn’t met a single person in this whole 00:42:04.140 --> 00:42:05.040 trip who speaks English! 00:42:05.040 --> 00:42:10.260 She’s completely helpless, trapped, and there’s nothing that she can do except wait 00:42:10.260 --> 00:42:11.460 and hope. 00:42:12.060 --> 00:42:16.740 As the night settles in, she realizes that her wait might have just started. 00:42:17.700 --> 00:42:21.300 It might not be the happiest place on earth, but it definitely tries to be. 00:42:21.300 --> 00:42:25.680 And while the world is full of sketchy amusement parks, most of them just want your money. 00:42:25.680 --> 00:42:31.440 The amusement park known as SCP-1357, however, genuinely wants you to have a good time. 00:42:31.440 --> 00:42:36.000 Sometimes it wants you to have a good time whether you want to or not. 00:42:36.660 --> 00:42:40.500 SCP-1357 is a theme park  with an area of approximately  00:42:40.500 --> 00:42:43.200 4 square kilometers located somewhere in Poland. 00:42:43.200 --> 00:42:46.200 The park has four entrances, at each of the cardinal directions. 00:42:47.160 --> 00:42:52.740 SCP-1357 is highly selective about who it allows to enter the park, restricting access 00:42:52.740 --> 00:42:56.940 to parties that meet the following criteria: The group must contain at least two adults 00:42:56.940 --> 00:43:00.960 in a romantic relationship, it must contain at least one member who is under the age of 00:43:00.960 --> 00:43:05.520 18 and who thinks of the aforementioned romantic couple as their guardians, and every member 00:43:05.520 --> 00:43:08.160 of the party must possess  a free ticket – hereafter  00:43:08.160 --> 00:43:11.340 referred to as SCP-1357-B. 00:43:12.120 --> 00:43:16.560 The park does not charge for admission, and the only way to gain access is to have possession 00:43:16.560 --> 00:43:23.880 of an instance of SCP-1357-B. Once inside, SCP-1357 looks like any other carnival with 00:43:23.880 --> 00:43:27.420 thrill rides, amusement arcades, midway games, and concession booths. 00:43:27.420 --> 00:43:33.840 Highly unusual for a carnival, though, is that SCP-1357 does not accept any money; all 00:43:33.840 --> 00:43:36.360 rides, food, and souvenirs are free. 00:43:36.360 --> 00:43:41.160 The layout and theme of the park are different for different visitors and appear to be highly 00:43:41.160 --> 00:43:44.160 contingent on the desires of the youngest member of any visiting party. 00:43:44.160 --> 00:43:48.720 Often, the park will appear themed after various popular media properties, such as Batman, 00:43:48.720 --> 00:43:50.760 Winnie the Pooh, or Barney the Dinosaur. 00:43:50.760 --> 00:43:56.220 However, visiting parties accompanied by more imaginative kids may encounter substantially 00:43:56.220 --> 00:43:58.380 weirder things in the park – including talking  00:43:58.380 --> 00:44:01.440 animals, sentient foodstuffs,  temporal displacements, 00:44:01.440 --> 00:44:03.780 and even extradimensional portals. 00:44:03.780 --> 00:44:07.860 Although the park normally sits empty, when a group meeting entry requirements arrive 00:44:07.860 --> 00:44:14.100 at the gate, SCP-1357 will spontaneously manifest a full working staff, people designated as 00:44:14.100 --> 00:44:19.560 SCP-1357-A. Instances of SCP-1357-A appear  00:44:19.560 --> 00:44:22.260 to be ordinary humans of  various ages, ethnicities, 00:44:22.260 --> 00:44:27.120 sexes, and genders, all clothes in matching uniforms, suggesting that they are employees 00:44:27.120 --> 00:44:27.660 of the park. 00:44:28.200 --> 00:44:34.440 Instances of SCP-1357-A are exceptionally friendly and helpful, and are extremely dedicated 00:44:34.440 --> 00:44:38.220 to making sure that visitors to SCP-1357 have a good time. 00:44:38.220 --> 00:44:40.980 In fact, there’s nothing that they care about more. 00:44:41.580 --> 00:44:47.760 There is, however, a darker side to SCP-1357, and one incident suggests the frightening 00:44:47.760 --> 00:44:51.480 lengths to which the park will go to make sure that its younger visitors truly enjoy 00:44:51.480 --> 00:44:51.900 their stay. 00:44:52.500 --> 00:44:56.820 As part of an experiment, a foundation agent visited the park with his own family, each 00:44:56.820 --> 00:45:00.600 member equipped with audio recording devices that continuously transmitted to foundation 00:45:00.600 --> 00:45:01.200 consoles. 00:45:01.200 --> 00:45:06.420 During his stay, he attempted to interrogate an instance of SCP-1357-A. 00:45:06.420 --> 00:45:12.240 The instance of SCP-1357-A refused to answer the agent’s questions about the purpose 00:45:12.240 --> 00:45:16.680 or origin of the park, instead lamenting that the agent’s attitude was “going to spoil 00:45:16.680 --> 00:45:17.880 the fun” for his family. 00:45:17.880 --> 00:45:24.420 Eventually, instances of SCP-1357-A escorted the agent to an exit and forcibly removed 00:45:24.420 --> 00:45:25.020 him from the park. 00:45:25.560 --> 00:45:29.280 When his wife attempted to follow him, the couple’s daughter refused to leave. 00:45:29.280 --> 00:45:35.280 Instances of SCP-135-A separated the daughter from her family, removing the wife from the 00:45:35.280 --> 00:45:39.300 park and keeping the daughter inside, leaving the parents with only vague assurances that 00:45:39.300 --> 00:45:41.880 their daughter would be returned when she was ready to leave the park. 00:45:41.880 --> 00:45:46.500 Attempts to forcibly recover the daughter proved futile, and even a well-armed rescue 00:45:46.500 --> 00:45:53.040 team was unable to overcome the seemingly infinite numbers of SCP-1357-A that SCP-1357 00:45:53.040 --> 00:45:54.720 manifested to protect itself. 00:45:54.720 --> 00:46:00.000 Hopes that SCP-1357 might indeed allow the daughter to leave once she became bored with 00:46:00.000 --> 00:46:04.260 park attractions also proved to futile; audio captured from daughter’s recording device 00:46:04.260 --> 00:46:09.660 seems to indicate that when she eventually demanded that SCP-1357-A’s release her, 00:46:09.660 --> 00:46:14.760 she was instead placed into some sort of machine that altered or brainwashed her into becoming 00:46:14.760 --> 00:46:17.640 an SCP-1357-A herself. 00:46:17.640 --> 00:46:23.880 Subsequent park visits by foundation researchers have revealed a new SCP-1357-A that matches 00:46:23.880 --> 00:46:27.420 the daughter’s physical description but does not display any memories of her past 00:46:27.420 --> 00:46:27.660 life. 00:46:28.200 --> 00:46:33.840 Interactions with the SCP-1357-A that resembles the missing daughter reveal that, like other 00:46:33.840 --> 00:46:39.780 instances of SCP-1357-A, her only thoughts are on how to please park visitors and help 00:46:39.780 --> 00:46:41.700 them enjoy a pleasant visiting experience. 00:46:42.300 --> 00:46:47.100 In the end, Playland may offer the ultimate amusement park experience for free… but 00:46:47.100 --> 00:46:49.740 it might still exact a price way too high. 00:46:49.740 --> 00:46:54.660 Two recreational divers are swimming along the seafloor nearly a hundred feet below the 00:46:54.660 --> 00:46:54.960 surface. 00:46:54.960 --> 00:47:00.060 This husband and wife duo are no strangers to scuba diving, and they move effortlessly 00:47:00.060 --> 00:47:04.500 through the water as they marvel at the various fish and plant life that normally remain unseen 00:47:04.500 --> 00:47:05.280 by humans. 00:47:06.000 --> 00:47:09.900 The woman taps her husband on the shoulder and points in the direction of a forest of 00:47:09.900 --> 00:47:11.880 kelp before starting to swim towards it. 00:47:12.480 --> 00:47:16.080 The man is about to follow when he sees something out of the corner of his eye. 00:47:16.080 --> 00:47:18.360 He stops and turns to get a better look. 00:47:18.360 --> 00:47:21.600 A few dozen meters away, is a group of people. 00:47:22.500 --> 00:47:23.700 The man is confused. 00:47:23.700 --> 00:47:26.820 He looks back towards his wife who is motioning for him to follow her. 00:47:26.820 --> 00:47:31.440 He raises a single finger as if to say “I’ll be with you in a minute” and starts to swim 00:47:31.440 --> 00:47:34.440 in the direction of the strange crowd of people standing on the seafloor. 00:47:35.400 --> 00:47:37.740 He still can’t make out exactly what he’s looking at. 00:47:37.740 --> 00:47:42.120 A light current is causing silt to kick up and hang in the water, obscuring his view. 00:47:42.120 --> 00:47:45.180 As he gets closer though, everything becomes clear. 00:47:45.180 --> 00:47:49.860 It really is a group of people, standing perfectly still, 30 meters underwater. 00:47:49.860 --> 00:47:53.940 But they aren’t living people of course, they are statues. 00:47:53.940 --> 00:47:56.460 The man can see now that these are statues of children. 00:47:56.460 --> 00:48:01.260 They are standing in a circle, facing outwards, and each one is holding hands with the statues 00:48:01.260 --> 00:48:03.180 next to them, forming an unbroken ring. 00:48:04.140 --> 00:48:05.940 He swims closer to get a better look. 00:48:05.940 --> 00:48:08.700 The statues are covered in algae and other plant life. 00:48:08.700 --> 00:48:12.900 He doesn’t know who or why someone would make this strange art piece, but whatever 00:48:12.900 --> 00:48:15.600 their reasons, it looks like it's been down here a long time. 00:48:16.140 --> 00:48:20.220 He swims around the circle and counts more than twenty in total, with each one looking 00:48:20.220 --> 00:48:21.000 to be unique. 00:48:21.000 --> 00:48:25.920 While the center of the circle of statues is empty, there’s pieces of bricks and concrete 00:48:25.920 --> 00:48:26.880 scattered all around it. 00:48:26.880 --> 00:48:28.800 Did there used to be something down here? 00:48:28.800 --> 00:48:33.300 A building or some kind of structure that once housed the statues and has now collapsed? 00:48:33.300 --> 00:48:36.360 It seems impossible that anything could have ever been built down here. 00:48:37.140 --> 00:48:40.260 He looks back in the direction of his wife but he can’t see her. 00:48:40.260 --> 00:48:43.560 She must be somewhere among the kelp investigating her own mysteries. 00:48:43.560 --> 00:48:46.800 He’s about to head in her direction when he notices something. 00:48:46.800 --> 00:48:49.080 The inside of the circle isn’t empty. 00:48:49.080 --> 00:48:51.960 Something is inside, sticking out of the sand. 00:48:52.740 --> 00:48:55.200 He swims up above the ring to get a better look. 00:48:56.700 --> 00:49:00.600 There’s definitely something buried in the circle of statues, he can see now that it 00:49:00.600 --> 00:49:02.460 is the corner of what looks to be a metal box. 00:49:02.460 --> 00:49:07.860 He swims down closer to the box and reaches a hand out towards it, when he suddenly stops, 00:49:07.860 --> 00:49:08.520 and looks up. 00:49:08.520 --> 00:49:13.200 The woman swims out of the dense kelp forest carrying a brightly colored shell. 00:49:13.200 --> 00:49:15.600 She can’t wait to show her husband how beautiful it is. 00:49:15.600 --> 00:49:17.820 She looks around but there’s no sign of him. 00:49:17.820 --> 00:49:21.840 She looks in the direction that he swam and spots the same strange group of people that 00:49:21.840 --> 00:49:22.200 he did. 00:49:22.740 --> 00:49:27.480 As she swims towards them she also quickly realizes that these are just statues, very 00:49:27.480 --> 00:49:29.040 odd ones, but statues nonetheless. 00:49:29.700 --> 00:49:31.980 She also notices the rubble that surrounds them. 00:49:31.980 --> 00:49:36.540 The broken chunks of concrete, bricks, some bones… wait, bones? 00:49:36.540 --> 00:49:40.920 That’s when she spots something else lying on the ocean floor just outside the ring of 00:49:40.920 --> 00:49:41.460 statues. 00:49:41.460 --> 00:49:45.780 it’s her husband’s scuba tank with his shattered mask resting on top. 00:49:55.380 --> 00:49:56.280 Hi! 00:49:56.280 --> 00:49:57.180 I’m Dr. Bob. 00:49:57.180 --> 00:50:01.320 And this is SCP-1451, also known as… 00:50:01.320 --> 00:50:03.300 Sunken Children's Perimeter. 00:50:04.500 --> 00:50:09.780 SCP-1451 is the designation that has been given to an anomalous set of metal statues 00:50:09.780 --> 00:50:12.240 that possess very strange and deadly properties. 00:50:13.020 --> 00:50:18.156 The twenty-six statues, each of which is unique and have been given the designations SCP-1451-1 00:50:18.156 --> 00:50:26.220 through 26, all resemble human children and range in height from 1.32 to 1.43 meters. 00:50:26.220 --> 00:50:30.600 They are located within an ocean inlet on the seafloor, and are arranged in a circle 00:50:30.600 --> 00:50:35.160 facing outwards, with each holding hands with the ones next to it, forming an unbroken ring. 00:50:35.820 --> 00:50:40.440 These statues are anything but stationary though, at least some of the time, and in 00:50:40.440 --> 00:50:45.060 fact they have three distinct states of motion which the SCP Foundation refers to as Class 00:50:45.060 --> 00:50:46.740 1 through 3 scenarios. 00:50:46.740 --> 00:50:52.560 The first, a Class 1 scenario, is the designation given when no movement is detected at all. 00:50:52.560 --> 00:50:56.100 This is the state that the statues appear to spend the majority of their time in. 00:50:56.100 --> 00:51:01.200 The designation will change to Class 2 when some slight movement of the statues is detected. 00:51:01.200 --> 00:51:06.780 In this state, they can be seen to slowly raise and lower their hands, while also subtly 00:51:06.780 --> 00:51:08.880 moving together in a counter-clockwise direction. 00:51:08.880 --> 00:51:13.020 Bubbles have been observed coming from the statues mouths during this scenario. 00:51:13.020 --> 00:51:18.660 SCP-1451 will be seen to behave this way when a large object comes near it, and it will 00:51:18.660 --> 00:51:22.500 often mean that the statues are preparing to transition into a Class 3 scenario. 00:51:23.400 --> 00:51:27.960 A Class 3 scenario will be triggered when a solid object that weighs more than 40 grams 00:51:27.960 --> 00:51:29.100 enters the center of the circle. 00:51:29.100 --> 00:51:34.560 When the object, whether it be a living one or not, enters this activation area, the statues 00:51:34.560 --> 00:51:39.480 will fully animate and turn their attention on the object with only one purpose, to destroy 00:51:39.480 --> 00:51:39.660 it. 00:51:40.440 --> 00:51:45.000 When the statues enter a Class 3 scenario, they exhibit incredible strength and agility. 00:51:45.000 --> 00:51:49.380 They appear to possess at least a rudimentary form of intelligence as well, as they have 00:51:49.380 --> 00:51:51.900 been seen utilizing teamwork and advanced tactics. 00:51:51.900 --> 00:51:56.880 Once the statues have been activated, they are relentless in the pursuit of their targets, 00:51:56.880 --> 00:51:58.620 stopping at nothing to neutralize them. 00:51:58.620 --> 00:52:03.300 Should you manage to make it out of the activation area, the statues will still continue to give 00:52:03.300 --> 00:52:08.340 chase, and in one case they followed a target over a kilometer before finally overtaking 00:52:08.340 --> 00:52:08.580 it. 00:52:09.720 --> 00:52:13.920 Once they get their hands on a target, death and destruction are all but assured. 00:52:13.920 --> 00:52:18.180 They will rip and tear anything that enters their circle apart, be it man or machine, 00:52:18.180 --> 00:52:19.620 with their metallic hands. 00:52:19.620 --> 00:52:23.940 Once they have eliminated the object, the statues will then return to their Class 1 00:52:23.940 --> 00:52:24.720 scenario position. 00:52:25.560 --> 00:52:29.700 Attempts to intercept the statues as they return to their activation area will lead 00:52:29.700 --> 00:52:35.160 to what the Foundation has dubbed a Class 3.5 scenario, during which they will destroy 00:52:35.160 --> 00:52:39.240 anyone or anything that tries to intervene or prevent them from reaching their destination. 00:52:40.380 --> 00:52:45.780 While SCP-1451 might seem to be one of the simpler anomalies in the SCP Foundation database, 00:52:45.780 --> 00:52:50.520 there may just be more to this story than first meets the eye, and in fact, the Sunken 00:52:50.520 --> 00:52:54.120 Children's Perimeter may not even be the first anomaly that was contained here. 00:52:55.080 --> 00:53:00.060 Those with Foundation Overseer level clearance have access to some rather interesting documents 00:53:00.060 --> 00:53:05.940 that help to fill in just what SCP-1451 might really be, and more importantly, what they’re 00:53:05.940 --> 00:53:06.420 protecting. 00:53:07.140 --> 00:53:10.920 The documents include a manifest of the materials that were initially recovered from the area 00:53:10.920 --> 00:53:13.320 where SCP-1451 was discovered. 00:53:13.920 --> 00:53:18.960 These materials included roughly 20 kilograms of bricks, 4,000 kilograms of containment-grade 00:53:18.960 --> 00:53:24.840 concrete, the type normally used in SCP Foundation sites, and most interesting of all, a damaged 00:53:24.840 --> 00:53:25.620 Scranton box. 00:53:26.280 --> 00:53:30.600 For those unaware, Scranton boxes were the precursors to Dr. Scranton’s much better 00:53:30.600 --> 00:53:31.860 known Reality Anchors. 00:53:31.860 --> 00:53:36.660 These powerful devices are used to contain reality warping anomalies and prevent them 00:53:36.660 --> 00:53:39.180 from bending the fabric of our universe to their whims. 00:53:39.900 --> 00:53:43.740 Dr. Scranton’s initial research into the technology produced an early version that 00:53:43.740 --> 00:53:47.880 was used in the containment of anomalies, though we now know that the technology was 00:53:47.880 --> 00:53:49.860 flawed and could lead to failures in containment. 00:53:51.060 --> 00:53:56.640 In the case of SCP-1451, a document was partially recovered from the Scranton box that alludes 00:53:56.640 --> 00:53:57.900 to just such a failure. 00:53:57.900 --> 00:54:03.420 In this instance, a powerful Euclid class reality warper was being held at Area-56, 00:54:03.420 --> 00:54:06.900 a location that the Foundation has no record of ever having existed. 00:54:06.900 --> 00:54:12.120 The corrupted file seems to suggest that the reality warping SCP’s primary anomalous 00:54:12.120 --> 00:54:15.660 attribute was that things it believed to be real, would become real. 00:54:15.660 --> 00:54:20.820 If it misconceived reality in any way, its anomalous abilities would force that misconception 00:54:20.820 --> 00:54:22.560 to become actual reality. 00:54:23.160 --> 00:54:27.780 For example, after the anomalous entity referred to an agent assigned to its containment as 00:54:27.780 --> 00:54:32.580 a “child,” the agent was at risk of undergoing various physical and mental changes to truly 00:54:32.580 --> 00:54:33.300 become a child. 00:54:34.200 --> 00:54:38.400 It appears that the anomaly may have begun conflating various aspects of its containment, 00:54:38.400 --> 00:54:40.980 mixing up the concepts of containment itself. 00:54:40.980 --> 00:54:45.360 The metal of its cage, the concrete of its cell, the “child” agent involved with 00:54:45.360 --> 00:54:49.980 its containment, the SCP Foundation itself - they all became entangled within its reality 00:54:49.980 --> 00:54:53.940 warping anomaly’s mind, and appear to have been jumbled together in such a way that led 00:54:53.940 --> 00:55:00.060 to the creation of SCP-1451, a group of metal children who are eternally on guard and destroy 00:55:00.060 --> 00:55:01.920 anything that tries to breach their perimeter. 00:55:01.920 --> 00:55:06.780 Just what happened to Area-56, the personnel who were stationed there, or the powerful 00:55:06.780 --> 00:55:10.320 reality warping anomaly they contained, continues to be a mystery. 00:55:11.340 --> 00:55:16.620 SCP-1451 has been classified as Euclid, and is considered to be effectively contained 00:55:16.620 --> 00:55:17.400 at its current location. 00:55:17.400 --> 00:55:22.200 A sphere of wire mesh netting has been erected around it in order to ensure that no objects 00:55:22.200 --> 00:55:26.340 enter its activation area, but in the event that an object does manage to enter the circle, 00:55:26.340 --> 00:55:31.200 the statues are to be remotely monitored and no attempts whatsoever are to be made to try 00:55:31.200 --> 00:55:34.800 and rescue the person or object that triggered the Class 3 scenario. 00:55:35.820 --> 00:55:39.480 The young man watches as the lily-white  coffin is lowered into the ground.   00:55:40.200 --> 00:55:45.720 He’s surprised at the dryness of his eyes, seeing  as it’s his own mother being buried, but now   00:55:45.720 --> 00:55:51.060 isn’t the time for questions. When the dirt is  piled on and the small service comes to an end,   00:55:51.660 --> 00:55:57.900 the young man is the last to leave. Other than  the eulogy, he never says a single word to anyone. 00:55:58.860 --> 00:56:03.240 She’d been… Difficult, towards the  end.. He’d cared for his mother   00:56:03.240 --> 00:56:07.740 until her disease had made it so that she  wasn’t really his mother anymore - And then   00:56:07.740 --> 00:56:12.360 for another two years after that. Things  had been said and done that he wished he   00:56:12.360 --> 00:56:16.140 could remove from his memories of  her, but the past is forever set. 00:56:16.860 --> 00:56:18.780 As he looks up from his mother’s gravestone,   00:56:18.780 --> 00:56:23.040 he notices something strange in the  distance, perhaps thirty feet away from him. 00:56:23.820 --> 00:56:28.740 A little girl, maybe about ten years old,  in a school uniform, standing behind another   00:56:28.740 --> 00:56:34.320 gravestone. She’s wearing a worn-looking,  plastic pig mask, and carrying a dirty rag   00:56:34.320 --> 00:56:39.300 doll. The young man stares into the dark eye  holes of her mask for a moment, wondering if   00:56:39.300 --> 00:56:44.040 he’s really seeing this or if she’s a figment of  his imagination brought on by stress and grief… 00:56:44.640 --> 00:56:47.040 Then he blinks and… she’s gone.   00:56:47.640 --> 00:56:51.720 For a second, he feels a frightening sentence  looping through the dark recesses of his mind:   00:56:51.720 --> 00:56:57.180 You’re starting to lose it already. A few years  ahead of schedule. You’d make your mother proud… 00:56:57.720 --> 00:57:01.080 The young man shakes his head  and leaves for home. Of course,   00:57:01.080 --> 00:57:05.640 he might see things on a day like this. The mind  does funny things when it’s in a state of extreme   00:57:05.640 --> 00:57:10.440 emotional distress. It was perfectly natural  that he’d see strange things on a day like this. 00:57:10.440 --> 00:57:14.340 But that little girl in the  pig mask really did look real… 00:57:14.340 --> 00:57:20.160 Arriving home is a surreal experience. It’s the  first time in a long time that he’s truly felt   00:57:20.160 --> 00:57:26.640 alone, like a child lost in a vast and unfamiliar  space. Something about it just felt wrong. 00:57:26.640 --> 00:57:30.660 He makes himself a microwave  meal and eats it silently in   00:57:30.660 --> 00:57:35.100 the kitchen. The place is so quiet.  No panicked yells or cries of pain. 00:57:35.820 --> 00:57:40.200 He sighs and looks out the kitchen window  as he washes the dishes and in the distance,   00:57:40.200 --> 00:57:43.440 he sees another strange sight: A young boy,   00:57:43.440 --> 00:57:47.460 twelve years old or so, standing out in  the cold, dark woods next to his house.   00:57:48.120 --> 00:57:52.980 He’s wearing only swimming trunks. Swimming  trunks and a worn-looking plastic mouse mask. 00:57:53.760 --> 00:57:56.640 A rag-doll hangs limply from his thin, pale arm,   00:57:56.640 --> 00:57:59.880 just like the one the girl  in the graveyard was holding. 00:57:59.880 --> 00:58:05.160 The young man’s first instinct is to go out and  help the child - after all, it’s a cold night, he   00:58:05.160 --> 00:58:10.860 could catch his death out there - but with another  blink, the child is gone. Just trees in the dark.   00:58:11.580 --> 00:58:15.480 He breathes a ragged sigh and takes an  aspirin. Something must really be wrong   00:58:15.480 --> 00:58:18.600 with him if he keeps seeing strange  children with animal faces out there… 00:58:19.260 --> 00:58:22.260 He trudges upstairs, hoping that  maybe he’ll get some sleep tonight   00:58:22.260 --> 00:58:26.460 and feel a little better in the morning.  Shadows dart in the corners of his eyes,   00:58:26.460 --> 00:58:30.360 but he pays them no mind. He can’t  trust anything he sees today. 00:58:30.360 --> 00:58:33.900 He pauses for a moment in front of  the room where his mother used to   00:58:33.900 --> 00:58:37.740 sleep. It looks cavernous without  her tiny form nestled in the bed.   00:58:38.400 --> 00:58:42.000 He thinks about how she’d last been in that  same room a little more than a week earlier. 00:58:42.600 --> 00:58:45.720 He sighs, turns off the light, and goes to bed. 00:58:45.720 --> 00:58:51.780 That night, the young man has strange dreams.  He feels like a tiny fish at the deepest,   00:58:51.780 --> 00:58:54.540 darkest point of the ocean, watching huge,   00:58:54.540 --> 00:59:00.180 black shapes loom and shift around him. He’s  afraid. He feels like he’s being watched.   00:59:00.900 --> 00:59:05.400 The sudden spike of terror jolts him out  of his sleep, and that’s when he sees them. 00:59:05.400 --> 00:59:08.760 The children in the animal  masks. Seven of them now. 00:59:09.420 --> 00:59:13.500 They stand around his bed, hand in hand,  like they’re playing some kind of game,   00:59:13.500 --> 00:59:18.960 but in dead silence. Each one has a rag doll  sitting patiently at their feet. Logically,   00:59:18.960 --> 00:59:22.740 he should be more afraid upon seeing them.  It’s the strangest experience of his life.   00:59:23.460 --> 00:59:29.100 And yet, he feels an odd sense of empty  calm settle over him like a warm blanket. 00:59:29.100 --> 00:59:31.680 His eyes close and sleep takes him again. 00:59:32.400 --> 00:59:34.260 When the young man wakes up the next morning,   00:59:34.260 --> 00:59:38.460 something doesn’t feel right. He’s already  dismissed the strange children with the   00:59:38.460 --> 00:59:42.540 animal masks and the dolls as a figment  of his imagination, a half-waking dream,   00:59:42.540 --> 00:59:47.640 but what he can’t dismiss is the numbness in  his fingers and toes. It’s like he’d spent   00:59:47.640 --> 00:59:51.120 all night sleeping in the cold outside,  despite his room being perfectly warm. 00:59:51.720 --> 00:59:53.460 Perhaps he’s coming down with something. 00:59:53.460 --> 00:59:58.440 Other strange things start to happen over the  next few days. He makes himself a sandwich,   00:59:58.440 --> 01:00:03.060 and as he bites into it, he notices he  can’t taste a thing. Come to think of it,   01:00:03.060 --> 01:00:08.400 he really can’t smell that much, either. Could  this be a cold? The flu? Something worse? 01:00:08.400 --> 01:00:13.500 Also, he just can’t shake the feeling that  he isn’t alone in the house. It’s as if he   01:00:13.500 --> 01:00:18.720 can feel a presence there with him. And not  just one presence, but multiple. Could it   01:00:18.720 --> 01:00:22.440 have something to do with those strange dreams  and hallucinations? The children in the masks? 01:00:23.040 --> 01:00:27.600 He suppresses the thoughts, not wanting to  consider their implication. He can scarcely   01:00:27.600 --> 01:00:31.920 dare to ponder what’s worse: That there really  are strange little children in masks creeping   01:00:31.920 --> 01:00:36.120 around his home, making him sick, or that  he’s losing his mind, just like his mother? 01:00:36.840 --> 01:00:40.800 He puts it out of his mind, but every so often,  when he happens to glance out of the window,   01:00:40.800 --> 01:00:43.860 he can’t help but see little  shapes moving in the distance. 01:00:44.640 --> 01:00:48.180 When he watches the TV or tries to  listen to music to distract himself,   01:00:48.180 --> 01:00:52.860 he notices that he needs to turn up the volume  more than he ever did before. His hearing is   01:00:52.860 --> 01:00:57.960 getting worse. Could this be some kind of sinus  thing? It’s the only rational explanation. But   01:00:57.960 --> 01:01:02.040 it can be hard to apply a rational explanation  when what’s happening is inherently irrational. 01:01:02.820 --> 01:01:06.720 Several days later, after getting out of bed in  the morning and standing in front of the bathroom   01:01:06.720 --> 01:01:12.240 mirror, the young man notices something  is different. It’s his skin. It’s a pale,   01:01:12.240 --> 01:01:16.620 almost creamy color now, like all the life  and vitality has been leached out of it.   01:01:17.160 --> 01:01:21.360 But it’s not just that. He looks closer  at his face in the mirror: His eyes.   01:01:21.900 --> 01:01:25.920 Have they always looked like that? Were  they always that shade of dark, murky brown? 01:01:26.700 --> 01:01:30.960 Maybe it’s his addled mind, but he can swear  something is different. Like the ground is   01:01:30.960 --> 01:01:35.100 shifting underneath his feet. That’s when he  notices something in the corner of the mirror:   01:01:35.100 --> 01:01:39.000 A little boy with dark blue  overalls and a grinning cat mask. 01:01:39.660 --> 01:01:43.080 He just stands there. Watching. 01:01:43.080 --> 01:01:47.220 The young man turns, hoping to finally see  one of these strange children up close. But,   01:01:47.220 --> 01:01:48.780 of course, there’s nothing there. 01:01:49.380 --> 01:01:54.300 Over the following days, it all gets worse.  Two weeks since the funeral, and his senses of   01:01:54.300 --> 01:01:59.700 taste and smell haven’t returned. His hearing gets  worse by the day, until he’s almost entirely deaf.   01:02:00.300 --> 01:02:04.560 The sightings of the children don’t stop,  but they’re harder to make out. Over time,   01:02:04.560 --> 01:02:09.300 his vision starts to blur, and no matter  how hard he rubs his eyes, they never clear. 01:02:10.080 --> 01:02:14.880 He stubs his toe, cracking the toenail open  from tip to base, and he doesn’t even notice.   01:02:15.600 --> 01:02:21.000 Little by little, feeling itself is starting  to leave him. He doesn’t even notice until   01:02:21.000 --> 01:02:25.560 the day he decides to chop some carrots for a  soup he’s making, hoping in vain that this one   01:02:25.560 --> 01:02:30.240 might be the meal he can finally taste. But his  vision is getting so blurry now, he can barely-- 01:02:30.960 --> 01:02:35.100 The knife cuts into his palm. It takes him  a second to even register because there’s   01:02:35.100 --> 01:02:40.560 no pain and no blood. He stares at the clean  wound in his palm with detached fascination,   01:02:40.560 --> 01:02:43.740 trying to work out the shapes in  front of him, to make sense of it all. 01:02:44.460 --> 01:02:49.440 What are those thin, white strands sticking out  of the cut? He grabs the edge of the skin - though   01:02:49.440 --> 01:02:54.960 it doesn’t look much like skin now, more like  pale, ragged fabric - and he peels it back. 01:02:54.960 --> 01:03:01.260 No blood, no sinew, no flesh. Just  puffy, white stuffing underneath. 01:03:01.980 --> 01:03:10.140 He’s in bed and has been for a few days now. He  can’t taste, smell, hear, feel, or even see. All   01:03:10.140 --> 01:03:16.320 he can do is think in the dark. He’s confused and  afraid. He wants his mother, but she’s long gone. 01:03:17.100 --> 01:03:20.820 On the outside, he’s shrinking  away, drawing into himself. He   01:03:20.820 --> 01:03:25.680 can’t move or talk as he gets smaller and  smaller. They walk in through the walls,   01:03:25.680 --> 01:03:30.300 the children in masks, ready to receive  their new toy. The young man is nothing   01:03:30.300 --> 01:03:35.940 more. All that’s left is another rag doll with  a pair of brown button eyes laying on the bed. 01:03:35.940 --> 01:03:40.620 A little boy in a rabbit mask steps  forward and picks it up. He stares   01:03:40.620 --> 01:03:45.060 at it for a moment before the children  leave and the house is empty once more. 01:03:45.060 --> 01:03:48.960 This is the kind of unpleasant,  anomalous experience you can expect   01:03:48.960 --> 01:03:54.660 from a close encounter with SCP-747,  aptly nicknamed “Children and Dolls.” 01:03:55.320 --> 01:04:01.080 SCP-747 specifically refers to the phenomenon of  these strange, anomalous children wearing animal   01:04:01.080 --> 01:04:06.780 masks. Studies have shown that, masks aside, all  of these children are identical to children who   01:04:06.780 --> 01:04:10.440 were proven to have died around the time that  their anomalous counterparts first manifested.   01:04:11.100 --> 01:04:16.860 This leads us to the working theory that the  SCP-747 instances are spectral manifestations   01:04:16.860 --> 01:04:20.220 of the children they once were,  twisted somehow by the unifying   01:04:20.220 --> 01:04:25.560 force of SCP-747. This is a theory supported  by several pieces of unsettling information. 01:04:25.560 --> 01:04:31.140 Agents from the SCP Foundation disguised as grief  counselors conducted interviews with the bereaved   01:04:31.140 --> 01:04:34.800 parents of each of the deceased children,  and through these heart wrenching interviews,   01:04:34.800 --> 01:04:39.060 they were able to discover that each of the  children who’d died had possessed a doll that   01:04:39.060 --> 01:04:44.400 they loved very dearly. So much so that the  dolls were each buried with them, because,   01:04:44.400 --> 01:04:48.120 on some level, the thought of separating  them from this last comfort of the mortal   01:04:48.120 --> 01:04:52.560 world was too painful for the parents to  bear. Given the preoccupation with dolls   01:04:52.560 --> 01:04:57.900 exhibited by SCP-747 instances, the Foundation  found these facts to be highly illuminating. 01:04:57.900 --> 01:05:04.860 The physicality of SCP-747 instances - or rather,  the lack thereof - also points towards the theory   01:05:04.860 --> 01:05:09.660 of them being powerful spectral manifestations.  They are able to phase through solid surfaces   01:05:09.660 --> 01:05:13.860 of up to ten centimeters in thickness and  can sometimes have difficulty in holding   01:05:13.860 --> 01:05:18.480 solid objects due to their partially-solid  nature. They live mysterious and lonely   01:05:18.480 --> 01:05:22.620 lives on a plane of reality adjacent to our  own and they have never been seen to speak,   01:05:22.620 --> 01:05:26.280 though it’s likely that they do have some  form of communication with one another. 01:05:27.000 --> 01:05:33.120 Outside of individuals they’re directly targeting,  the SCP-747 children show little interest in other   01:05:33.120 --> 01:05:37.920 non-anomalous humans. They mainly seem  to occupy themselves with their dolls and   01:05:37.920 --> 01:05:42.660 with each other. It is unknown to what extent  the children are truly sentient, but they do   01:05:42.660 --> 01:05:47.100 appear to have some form of self-comprehension,  manifesting in an awareness of the space they   01:05:47.100 --> 01:05:51.000 take up and their surroundings, which keeps  them from bumping into things as they walk. 01:05:51.000 --> 01:05:56.220 But of course, their spectrality is hardly  the most unsettling or eye-catching feature   01:05:56.220 --> 01:06:02.520 of SCP-747. No, the real danger of  SCP-747 is s the fact they’re able   01:06:02.520 --> 01:06:07.440 to turn human beings into dolls, a process  which takes a matter of seconds to instill   01:06:07.440 --> 01:06:12.840 but 21 torturous days to finally take  effect. In order to begin this process,   01:06:12.840 --> 01:06:17.820 the children will select a human that intrigues  them. Perhaps one that would fit in nicely with   01:06:17.820 --> 01:06:21.540 their collection. The Foundation isn’t  currently aware whether there are any   01:06:21.540 --> 01:06:26.640 fixed criteria for victim selection, or if it’s  just a matter of wrong place at the wrong time. 01:06:26.640 --> 01:06:32.100 When the time is right and their selection  is secure, they’ll lock hands and form a ring   01:06:32.100 --> 01:06:39.300 around the human in question for five to seven  seconds. This is all it takes. One, two, three,   01:06:39.300 --> 01:06:47.700 four, five, six, seven seconds. And you’re already  at the point of no return. After completing this   01:06:47.700 --> 01:06:52.140 brief ritual, the children will go their separate  ways, and the process will begin to take hold. 01:06:52.800 --> 01:06:58.380 This is why it’s so imperative for the SCP  Foundation to keep a lid on SCP-747’s activities.   01:06:58.380 --> 01:07:03.720 While there’s no cure for the process once the  ritual is done, it is possible to prevent the   01:07:03.720 --> 01:07:08.760 ritual from being completed in the first place  by escaping the circle and leaving the SCP-747   01:07:08.760 --> 01:07:14.280 children. However, they have cognitohazardous  measures against this, with many victims reporting   01:07:14.280 --> 01:07:18.480 a sense of blankness or thoughtlessness  while within the circle. They induce a   01:07:18.480 --> 01:07:22.080 placid state of mind to prevent resistance  from the horrible fate they’re bestowing. 01:07:22.080 --> 01:07:27.660 The transformation doesn’t incur any immediate  symptoms. However, after fifteen minutes or so,   01:07:27.660 --> 01:07:32.580 the victim will begin to experience numbness in  the extremities, much like the kind caused by cold   01:07:32.580 --> 01:07:38.280 weather or poor blood circulation. Symptoms will  gradually worsen over the next 21 days, though   01:07:38.280 --> 01:07:42.960 if the victim enters a state of chronic stress or  anxiety, this process could potentially shorten to   01:07:42.960 --> 01:07:47.880 as little as ten days. The conversion can often  be neatly divided into three distinct stages. 01:07:48.840 --> 01:07:51.060 Stage 1: Loss of Minor Senses 01:07:51.720 --> 01:07:56.580 The most frightening aspect of this initial stage  of transformation is the fact that many of its   01:07:56.580 --> 01:08:01.320 symptoms could easily be written off as that of  more common minor ailments. The senses of smell,   01:08:01.320 --> 01:08:04.860 taste, and hearing will begin to  dampen and then disappear entirely,   01:08:04.860 --> 01:08:09.420 in what may at first seem like a severe  cold. The victim may express a sense of   01:08:09.420 --> 01:08:13.080 distress at their condition at this stage  but will remain largely mentally stable. 01:08:13.920 --> 01:08:18.480 Any deviations from that expectation into  more extreme mental instability should be   01:08:18.480 --> 01:08:23.220 taken as a sign of an accelerated transformation  rate. However, towards the end of stage one,   01:08:23.220 --> 01:08:28.080 a more pronounced change will start to take hold:  The victim will notice a slow shift of their eye   01:08:28.080 --> 01:08:32.760 color and skin tone to reflect the colors of  the doll. Though this is only the beginning. 01:08:33.600 --> 01:08:35.880 Stage 2: Loss of Major Senses 01:08:35.880 --> 01:08:40.680 Over the next thirteen days, the victims will  begin to lose their senses of sight and touch,   01:08:40.680 --> 01:08:44.940 resulting in extreme mental instability  and stress. The victims may attempt to   01:08:44.940 --> 01:08:48.960 perform gruesome experiments on themselves,  trying to rediscover feelings in their body,   01:08:48.960 --> 01:08:53.700 only to become more unstable upon realizing  that these senses are gone for good. 01:08:54.480 --> 01:08:58.620 At this stage, the frightening, anomalous  physical changes will become even more   01:08:58.620 --> 01:09:03.120 pronounced. The skin of the victim will take  on a rough, ragged quality as it transforms   01:09:03.120 --> 01:09:08.700 from normal skin to a variety of fabrics. The  internal organs are also slowly transformed into   01:09:08.700 --> 01:09:13.860 a patchwork of synthetic stuffings and even the  victim’s eyes will start to harden into buttons.  01:09:13.860 --> 01:09:18.720 However, the victim will remain alive throughout  this entire grim process, even as their autonomy   01:09:18.720 --> 01:09:23.580 over their own body rapidly fades away. Stage 3: Full Transformation 01:09:24.480 --> 01:09:29.160 Within twenty-four hours of entering stage  three, the victim is fully and irreparably   01:09:29.160 --> 01:09:34.260 turned into a doll. The SCP-747 children  will treat this doll just like they treat   01:09:34.260 --> 01:09:40.020 any others and if ever a doll created by the  influence of SCP-747 is destroyed, they will   01:09:40.020 --> 01:09:44.520 show greater interest in humans once again,  until a new target for conversion is selected. 01:09:45.120 --> 01:09:53.040 The SCP Foundation currently has seven SCP-747  specimens in containment. SCP-747-01 is an   01:09:53.040 --> 01:10:00.060 approximately seven-year-old male wearing a set  of blue pyjamas and a zebra mask. SCP-747-02 is   01:10:00.060 --> 01:10:03.360 an approximately twelve-year-old male  wearing swimming trunks and a mouse   01:10:03.360 --> 01:10:09.120 mask. SCP-747-03 is an approximately  ten-year-old female wearing a uniform   01:10:09.120 --> 01:10:15.060 typical of an expensive private school  and a pig mask. SCP-747-04 is a male is   01:10:15.060 --> 01:10:18.780 an approximately fourteen-year-old male  wearing a winter coat and a rabbit mask. 01:10:19.440 --> 01:10:25.680 SCP-747-05 is an approximately twelve-year-old  female wearing a striped sari and a giraffe   01:10:25.680 --> 01:10:30.840 mask. SCP-747-06 is an approximately  five-year-old girl with a bright   01:10:30.840 --> 01:10:35.460 pink dress typical of a beauty pageant  contestant and a goat mask. And finally,   01:10:35.460 --> 01:10:41.580 SCP-747-07 is an approximately nine-year-old  male wearing blue overalls and a cat mask.   01:10:42.240 --> 01:10:46.380 Interestingly, he was also found with a  physical note, containing a short story   01:10:46.380 --> 01:10:51.180 about a mother searching for her child in the  afterlife. Interestingly, the mother of this   01:10:51.180 --> 01:10:57.000 particular entity - before becoming an SCP-747  instance - is believed to have died in childbirth. 01:10:57.600 --> 01:11:02.460 All of the SCP-747 instances that the  Foundation has in containment are kept   01:11:02.460 --> 01:11:06.960 in a single containment chamber, thirty meters  by ten meters in size, with concrete walls at   01:11:06.960 --> 01:11:10.320 least fifteen centimeters thick to prevent  the children from phasing through them.   01:11:11.100 --> 01:11:15.900 It is mandatory that any unusual behaviors by the  children are reported to a superior immediately.   01:11:15.900 --> 01:11:20.040 If the children seem to take an interest in  any members of the staff that research, guard,   01:11:20.040 --> 01:11:24.900 or attend to them, that member of personnel must  be transferred to a different project immediately. 01:11:25.680 --> 01:11:29.100 The children are allowed a total  of 25 dolls to keep them placated,   01:11:29.100 --> 01:11:33.780 excluding ones created by their anomalous  influence and the SCP Foundation only permits   01:11:33.780 --> 01:11:37.680 their dolls to be temporarily removed from the  containment chamber for examination and repair. 01:11:37.680 --> 01:11:42.000 Any staff members who begin to show the  previously-described symptoms of anomalous   01:11:42.000 --> 01:11:49.380 SCP-747 influence are to be quarantined and  contained separately. Task Force 747-B8 remains   01:11:49.380 --> 01:11:53.700 on call in the event of a containment breach,  to handle tracking, capture, and containment.   01:11:54.420 --> 01:11:59.940 Due to the incredibly volatile and dangerous  nature of interfacing with SCP-747, Level 3   01:11:59.940 --> 01:12:04.980 staff and above are only able to come into contact  with them if the situation absolutely demands it. 01:12:05.580 --> 01:12:11.220 SCP-747 has been given the containment object  class Euclid, due to their phasing abilities and   01:12:11.220 --> 01:12:16.440 unpredictable nature. After all, who could ever  really know what’s going on behind those masks?   01:12:17.040 --> 01:12:22.500 But there’s one more detail about SCP-747,  that is perhaps the most frightening of all. 01:12:23.160 --> 01:12:26.640 There is evidence that suggests that  the victims who have been turned into   01:12:26.640 --> 01:12:33.000 SCP-747 dolls may not actually be dead.  In fact, they may still remain conscious,   01:12:33.000 --> 01:12:37.260 cut off from all their senses, slowly  descending further into madness. 01:12:37.260 --> 01:12:42.120 Everyone in this school knows to step aside when the goth girl is on the move. 01:12:42.900 --> 01:12:48.000 She strides down the school hallway, confident that no one will challenge her as the undisputed 01:12:48.000 --> 01:12:49.140 ruler of this high school. 01:12:49.140 --> 01:12:54.060 It’s not just her dark wardrobe or her black nails and eyeliner that intimidate the other 01:12:54.060 --> 01:12:57.960 students – her domineering attitude and sharp tongue make her feared. 01:12:58.560 --> 01:13:02.940 She brushes past a gaggle of underclassmen, who wilt under her devastating gaze. 01:13:03.840 --> 01:13:07.560 “Beat it, dorks,” she hisses, jerking her head to indicate that they should get 01:13:07.560 --> 01:13:08.160 out of her way. 01:13:08.700 --> 01:13:12.780 The other students disperse instantly, afraid to chance really getting an earful. 01:13:13.500 --> 01:13:17.280 Her terrible reputation means that no one ever makes trouble for the goth girl. 01:13:17.280 --> 01:13:20.040 But it’s more than just her attitude that keeps her on top. 01:13:20.040 --> 01:13:22.800 It’s also all those rumors around her. 01:13:22.800 --> 01:13:27.540 The rumors started last year, just after a new transfer student arrived in their school. 01:13:27.540 --> 01:13:32.040 She was a younger classman, who shared the goth girl’s same dark fashion sense and 01:13:32.040 --> 01:13:32.580 sensibilities. 01:13:32.580 --> 01:13:37.200 Students even saw the younger girl occasionally hanging out with the school’s resident goth 01:13:37.200 --> 01:13:37.440 population. 01:13:37.440 --> 01:13:41.220 But it was no secret that the goth girl didn’t like her. 01:13:41.220 --> 01:13:46.140 Maybe she felt like this younger girl was homing in on her territory or even angling 01:13:46.140 --> 01:13:48.000 to take her place among the goth crew. 01:13:48.000 --> 01:13:52.560 Whatever the case, other students couldn’t help but notice how the goth girl’s lip 01:13:52.560 --> 01:13:56.700 quivered or her eyes flashed whenever the younger girl tried to worm her way into the 01:13:56.700 --> 01:13:57.720 goth gang’s meet-ups. 01:13:57.720 --> 01:14:01.680 Then, one day, the younger girl didn’t come home from school. 01:14:01.680 --> 01:14:05.760 The younger girl’s parents reported her missing and organized a whole search party. 01:14:05.760 --> 01:14:10.440 The police spent weeks tracking down every lead, desperately looking for anything that 01:14:10.440 --> 01:14:13.860 might tell them what became of the missing girl… but found nothing. 01:14:13.860 --> 01:14:17.640 Rumors spread around school that the goth girl had something to do with it. 01:14:17.640 --> 01:14:20.640 After all, hadn’t the younger girl been her biggest rival? 01:14:20.640 --> 01:14:22.740 Hadn’t she always hated the younger girl? 01:14:22.740 --> 01:14:26.760 And, if anyone at this school would have had the chutzpah to actually do something sinister… 01:14:26.760 --> 01:14:28.800 it would be her, right? 01:14:28.800 --> 01:14:33.660 Despite all the gossip, though, no evidence ever surfaced to link the goth girl to the 01:14:33.660 --> 01:14:34.140 disappearance. 01:14:34.140 --> 01:14:38.760 The police even interviewed her several times, but she always denied knowing anything. 01:14:39.600 --> 01:14:42.480 “Yeah, I didn’t like that little brat,” she said in the police interview. 01:14:42.480 --> 01:14:45.660 “She was always getting underfoot and thinking that she could hang with us. 01:14:45.660 --> 01:14:47.640 But that doesn’t mean that I did anything to her. 01:14:47.640 --> 01:14:50.700 I mean, it’s not like I would have REALLY wanted to hurt her!” 01:14:51.360 --> 01:14:55.440 The goth girl concluded her statement with a knowing smirk, as if she was pleased with 01:14:55.440 --> 01:14:56.880 herself for getting away with murder. 01:14:57.480 --> 01:15:02.700 But you can’t build a case out of a smirk, so even if the police suspected anything they 01:15:02.700 --> 01:15:03.960 were forced to let her go. 01:15:03.960 --> 01:15:06.480 Eventually, life at school returned to normal. 01:15:06.480 --> 01:15:11.100 Other than a few fading missing child posters still fixed to telephone poles around town, 01:15:11.100 --> 01:15:14.220 most students eventually forgot about their missing classmate. 01:15:14.220 --> 01:15:17.400 But the goth girl’s fearsome reputation persisted. 01:15:17.400 --> 01:15:21.900 Could she have actually had something to do with that younger girl’s mysterious disappearance? 01:15:21.900 --> 01:15:25.920 Now that other students thought she might have actually killed someone, they naturally 01:15:25.920 --> 01:15:27.360 found her even more intimidating. 01:15:28.020 --> 01:15:29.760 The goth girl didn’t mind, though. 01:15:29.760 --> 01:15:33.840 After all, she already thought most of the other students were normie losers, anyway, 01:15:33.840 --> 01:15:36.180 so she liked that they gave her a wide berth. 01:15:36.840 --> 01:15:40.800 The goth girl walks toward the end of the hallway, pushing open a designated fire exit 01:15:40.800 --> 01:15:42.240 door and slipping out behind the school. 01:15:43.320 --> 01:15:46.140 Today, the other goths are hanging out behind the school building. 01:15:46.140 --> 01:15:48.660 They nod curtly as the goth girl joins them. 01:15:49.920 --> 01:15:53.760 “What’s going on, losers,” she says, adopting an aura of bored detachment. 01:15:54.480 --> 01:15:57.840 “I was just telling them that there’s this haunted game you can download,” says 01:15:57.840 --> 01:15:58.380 the goth boy. 01:15:58.380 --> 01:15:59.520 “It’s all messed up. 01:15:59.520 --> 01:16:03.780 Like, the game knows all your worst secrets, and the more you play, the more it taunts 01:16:03.780 --> 01:16:03.900 you. 01:16:03.900 --> 01:16:06.540 Then, when you finish, you just disappear.” 01:16:06.540 --> 01:16:08.760 The other goths snicker at the story. 01:16:08.760 --> 01:16:13.500 None of them really believe it, but it makes for a fun spooky tale to help set the atmosphere 01:16:13.500 --> 01:16:14.520 as the sun sets. 01:16:14.520 --> 01:16:19.080 But one girl is more skeptical than the rest, to the point that she’s almost insulted 01:16:19.080 --> 01:16:21.240 by how obviously fake this story is. 01:16:21.240 --> 01:16:24.300 “What do you mean, you just disappear?” asks the girl. 01:16:24.300 --> 01:16:25.500 The boy shrugs. 01:16:25.500 --> 01:16:26.220 “I dunno. 01:16:26.220 --> 01:16:28.200 I just know that no one ever sees them again.” 01:16:28.200 --> 01:16:30.840 “I don’t believe that at all,” say the goth girl. 01:16:30.840 --> 01:16:31.980 “That sounds made up.” 01:16:32.640 --> 01:16:34.020 “No, no,” says the boy. 01:16:34.020 --> 01:16:35.760 “It’s 100% real. 01:16:35.760 --> 01:16:37.500 It’s called ‘The Book of Tamlin.’ 01:16:37.500 --> 01:16:39.180 “Okay, sure, whatever you say. 01:16:39.180 --> 01:16:41.040 And who exactly is Tamlin?” 01:16:41.700 --> 01:16:42.780 The boy shrugs. 01:16:42.780 --> 01:16:43.500 “I don’t know. 01:16:43.500 --> 01:16:46.080 Clearly, I haven’t played it, since I’m still here.” 01:16:46.080 --> 01:16:47.700 The girl rolls her eyes. 01:16:47.700 --> 01:16:48.840 “That’s ridiculous. 01:16:48.840 --> 01:16:50.400 I’ll show you right now.” 01:16:50.400 --> 01:16:53.820 She whips her cellphone out of her backpack and starts to thumb through the app store 01:16:53.820 --> 01:16:56.280 until she sees it: The Book of Tamlin. 01:16:56.280 --> 01:16:58.020 It’s right there in the store? 01:16:58.020 --> 01:17:00.780 That just makes this whole story seem even sillier. 01:17:01.320 --> 01:17:06.360 She would expect that, if there were a real haunted app, it would only be accessible via 01:17:06.360 --> 01:17:10.560 the dark web or maybe a strange glitch that randomly installed it into doomed victims’ 01:17:10.560 --> 01:17:10.920 phones. 01:17:10.920 --> 01:17:13.560 But it’s right here, for anyone to download! 01:17:13.560 --> 01:17:18.060 With a skeptical smirk on her face, she punches the button to begin the installation. 01:17:18.720 --> 01:17:21.120 “It’s right here in the app store,” says the goth girl. 01:17:21.120 --> 01:17:22.680 “Any of you chickens gonna play?” 01:17:23.280 --> 01:17:25.320 The other goths eye each other nervously. 01:17:25.320 --> 01:17:29.880 Sure, they were all pretty quick to dismiss the ominous story about this weird game before. 01:17:31.320 --> 01:17:35.580 But now that their friend is challenging them to actually play it, they don’t feel quite 01:17:35.580 --> 01:17:36.300 so confident. 01:17:36.300 --> 01:17:38.700 The goth girl snorts derisively. 01:17:38.700 --> 01:17:41.280 She wonders why she bothers hanging out with these poseurs. 01:17:42.060 --> 01:17:45.720 They’re the closest thing that she has to friends, since so few other students even 01:17:45.720 --> 01:17:46.560 dare approach her… 01:17:46.560 --> 01:17:50.100 But what does a bossy prima donna like her really need with friends anyway? 01:17:51.060 --> 01:17:55.140 She watches as the game loads up the intros screen and then gameplay begins. 01:17:55.140 --> 01:17:56.460 She snorts again. 01:17:56.460 --> 01:18:00.960 The Book of Tamlin appears to be a hidden object game, where the point is to discover 01:18:00.960 --> 01:18:03.240 various objects hidden in a larger image. 01:18:03.240 --> 01:18:05.880 This is baby stuff, thinks the goth girl. 01:18:06.480 --> 01:18:11.040 “Find the 10 black cats in the cemetery,” instructs the game as it pulls up a cartoony 01:18:11.040 --> 01:18:12.060 image of a graveyard. 01:18:12.060 --> 01:18:16.380 The goth girl’s finger hovers over the screen, and she quickly taps it whenever she spots 01:18:16.380 --> 01:18:18.960 a black cat crouching behind one of the pixelated tombstones. 01:18:18.960 --> 01:18:20.760 Is this supposed to be scary? 01:18:20.760 --> 01:18:24.780 The screen fades, and an empty room with a pair of doors fades in. 01:18:24.780 --> 01:18:28.620 The goth girl intuits that she’s supposed to pick one to advance to the next screen. 01:18:28.620 --> 01:18:31.440 Rolling her eyes, she selects the door on the left. 01:18:31.440 --> 01:18:33.840 The next scene looks familiar. 01:18:34.560 --> 01:18:35.580 Too familiar. 01:18:35.580 --> 01:18:36.600 It’s a bedroom… 01:18:36.600 --> 01:18:38.640 her bedroom, in fact! 01:18:38.640 --> 01:18:42.240 She recognizes the dark décor and the black clothing thrown on the floor. 01:18:42.240 --> 01:18:44.280 She narrows her eyes suspiciously. 01:18:45.120 --> 01:18:47.340 Surely that’s just a crazy coincidence, right? 01:18:47.340 --> 01:18:51.420 She eyes the other goths, but they don’t give any indication that they were expecting 01:18:51.420 --> 01:18:51.960 this twist. 01:18:51.960 --> 01:18:53.700 Are they playing a trick on her? 01:18:53.700 --> 01:18:55.620 ‘Find the outfits that make your parents  01:18:55.620 --> 01:18:57.960 ashamed to be seen with  you,‘ says the instructions. 01:18:57.960 --> 01:18:59.220 She grits her teeth. 01:18:59.220 --> 01:19:01.860 What’s the deal with this stupid program insulting her? 01:19:01.860 --> 01:19:06.180 She knows that her parents don’t exactly approve of her fashion choices, but this stupid 01:19:06.180 --> 01:19:07.200 game can’t know that. 01:19:07.200 --> 01:19:10.980 It’s probably just guessing that any young person who plays the game will probably have 01:19:10.980 --> 01:19:12.960 had quarrels with their parents about the way they dress. 01:19:12.960 --> 01:19:15.000 That’s pretty normal, right? 01:19:15.000 --> 01:19:17.760 Again, the empty room with the two doors appears. 01:19:17.760 --> 01:19:20.640 This time, the goth girl chooses the one on the right. 01:19:20.640 --> 01:19:25.020 The next screen after that is a picture of a pretty garden, and the instructions say 01:19:25.020 --> 01:19:26.340 to pick out ten pretty flowers. 01:19:26.340 --> 01:19:30.120 The next is a barnyard with instructions to find five cows. 01:19:30.120 --> 01:19:31.680 The goth girl starts to relax. 01:19:31.680 --> 01:19:35.220 That weird screen with her room must have just been a fluke. 01:19:35.220 --> 01:19:37.800 Otherwise, this game seems pretty mundane. 01:19:38.520 --> 01:19:42.420 But the next screen makes the goth girl’s face go as white as a sheet. 01:19:42.420 --> 01:19:45.960 Her eyes bug out of her head and sweats starts to bead on her forehead. 01:19:45.960 --> 01:19:46.860 No. 01:19:46.860 --> 01:19:47.880 No way. 01:19:47.880 --> 01:19:50.340 There’s no way that this next screen could be real! 01:19:50.340 --> 01:19:53.460 The image that appears is familiar to her. 01:19:53.460 --> 01:19:55.020 It’s a real-life place. 01:19:55.020 --> 01:19:57.480 She knows because she’s been there. 01:19:57.480 --> 01:20:01.380 It’s an image of a particular ravine, deep in the local woods. 01:20:01.380 --> 01:20:05.880 People sometimes throw old garbage down there, so it’s full of old washing machines and 01:20:05.880 --> 01:20:07.080 wrecked cars. 01:20:07.080 --> 01:20:12.120 Years ago, an old oak tree fell across the chasm, and now the dead log functions as a 01:20:12.120 --> 01:20:12.780 makeshift bridge. 01:20:12.780 --> 01:20:15.360 Sometimes kids dare one another to cross it. 01:20:15.960 --> 01:20:20.580 The instructions read: ‘Find the girl who wanted to be part of your club.’ 01:20:20.580 --> 01:20:24.480 The goth girl doesn’t need to search the image to know what she’ll find. 01:20:24.480 --> 01:20:29.640 She knows, deep in her heart, that the hidden object that she’s being instructed to find 01:20:29.640 --> 01:20:34.680 will be a broken body lying at the bottom of the ditch, half hidden under old blankets 01:20:34.680 --> 01:20:35.280 and debris. 01:20:35.940 --> 01:20:37.440 How could this game know? 01:20:37.440 --> 01:20:39.000 She was so careful. 01:20:39.000 --> 01:20:43.200 She remembers last school year when that younger girl kept trying to usurp her place in her 01:20:43.200 --> 01:20:43.440 clique. 01:20:43.440 --> 01:20:44.820 It made her so mad! 01:20:44.820 --> 01:20:48.480 But that younger girl seemed to look up to her, to think of her as the leader of the 01:20:48.480 --> 01:20:51.720 group and the one who she needed to impress in order to be accepted. 01:20:52.860 --> 01:20:53.700 That was good. 01:20:53.700 --> 01:20:56.220 The goth girl knew she could use that to her advantage. 01:20:57.000 --> 01:21:00.300 She told the younger girl to meet her in the woods, by the old ravine, late at night. 01:21:00.300 --> 01:21:05.040 Of course, it was nothing sinister, it was just for a little initiation test to prove 01:21:05.040 --> 01:21:07.440 that the younger girl could take her place as part of their gang. 01:21:07.440 --> 01:21:10.500 The younger girl was only too excited for her test! 01:21:10.500 --> 01:21:15.000 The goth girl was waiting at the ravine when her younger rival finally arrived. 01:21:15.720 --> 01:21:18.120 “I came as fast as I could,” said the younger girl. 01:21:18.120 --> 01:21:19.320 “What do you need me to do?” 01:21:19.860 --> 01:21:22.860 “Listen, I see how you want to hang out with us,” said the goth girl. 01:21:22.860 --> 01:21:25.620 “But you have to prove yourself if you want to be part of our group. 01:21:25.620 --> 01:21:29.400 But you have to understand, us goths, we embrace the darkness. 01:21:29.400 --> 01:21:30.900 We’re not scared of the void. 01:21:30.900 --> 01:21:34.680 We only take the coolest and the bravest, the kids who aren’t afraid of death. 01:21:34.680 --> 01:21:37.620 So you have to show me that you’re willing to look eternity in the eye. 01:21:37.620 --> 01:21:41.940 All you have to do to join us is to cross this ravine over that log over there.” 01:21:42.600 --> 01:21:44.160 She pointed at the fallen log. 01:21:44.160 --> 01:21:47.100 The younger girl looked frightened, but she nodded. 01:21:47.100 --> 01:21:51.660 The goth girl half-expected her to turn tail and run home, but she was surprised to see 01:21:51.660 --> 01:21:53.280 her rival make her way toward the log. 01:21:54.000 --> 01:21:57.120 Maybe she wasn’t as much of a poseur as the goth girl thought! 01:21:57.840 --> 01:22:02.700 The goth girl didn’t mean for anything bad to happen, she really only wanted to scare 01:22:02.700 --> 01:22:03.420 the younger girl. 01:22:03.420 --> 01:22:06.420 Maybe she could freak her out enough that she wouldn’t want to hang out with them 01:22:06.420 --> 01:22:08.820 anymore, and then she wouldn’t have to deal with that little pest anymore! 01:22:09.660 --> 01:22:13.980 The younger girl clambers up atop the log and slowly starts walking across the deep 01:22:13.980 --> 01:22:16.680 gorge, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. 01:22:17.340 --> 01:22:21.360 But the peeling bark of the old log is more slippery than it looks, and it’s hard to 01:22:21.360 --> 01:22:22.320 keep her footing in the dark. 01:22:22.320 --> 01:22:27.120 The younger girl makes it almost halfway across the ravine before she loses her footing. 01:22:27.120 --> 01:22:31.860 With a yelp, she lurches to the side and falls down the slope, tumbling head over heels, 01:22:31.860 --> 01:22:34.320 and landing amongst the garbage with a sickening crunch. 01:22:34.320 --> 01:22:36.000 The goth girl screamed in shock. 01:22:36.000 --> 01:22:40.200 She stared down in the ravine, seeing the younger girl lying still at the bottom, her 01:22:40.200 --> 01:22:42.060 neck bent at an impossible angle. 01:22:42.060 --> 01:22:45.300 It was obvious that the fall had killed her instantly. 01:22:46.020 --> 01:22:47.640 The goth girl knew she was in trouble. 01:22:48.300 --> 01:22:49.320 Or was she? 01:22:49.320 --> 01:22:53.880 Nobody knew she was out here, nobody knew that she’d asked the younger girl to meet 01:22:53.880 --> 01:22:54.240 her here. 01:22:54.240 --> 01:22:58.260 All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and nobody could pin this on her. 01:22:58.260 --> 01:22:59.640 The plan worked. 01:22:59.640 --> 01:23:04.140 She worked out her alibi and stuck to it during all the police interviews, never deviating, 01:23:04.140 --> 01:23:06.240 practicing her story until it sounded natural. 01:23:06.960 --> 01:23:11.040 The cops fell for it, clearing her as a suspect before moving on in their investigation. 01:23:11.820 --> 01:23:14.400 For a whole year, she had carried this terrible secret. 01:23:15.180 --> 01:23:16.800 Of course, it got easier over time. 01:23:16.800 --> 01:23:20.820 She gradually convinced herself that the whole thing was a terrible accident, it couldn’t 01:23:20.820 --> 01:23:22.800 have been prevented, she had nothing to feel guilty about. 01:23:23.760 --> 01:23:27.120 And yet somehow, this game knew! 01:23:27.120 --> 01:23:29.400 This game knew exactly what she had done! 01:23:30.120 --> 01:23:32.820 The phone slips from her palsied fingers and drops to the ground. 01:23:32.820 --> 01:23:35.220 The other goths look at her in confusion. 01:23:35.220 --> 01:23:38.280 They’ve never seen their leader in such a state of terror. 01:23:38.280 --> 01:23:39.840 What could have spooked her so bad? 01:23:40.560 --> 01:23:42.900 “Which of you made this dumb game?” she snaps. 01:23:42.900 --> 01:23:44.340 “It must have been one of you… fess up!” 01:23:44.340 --> 01:23:48.120 “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” says the goth boy, “I already told you, 01:23:48.120 --> 01:23:49.440 it’s supposed to be haunted and…” 01:23:49.440 --> 01:23:52.920 “I don’t know what you think you know, but you don’t know anything!” 01:23:52.920 --> 01:23:55.500 shouts the goth girl, hysterical in her fear. 01:23:55.500 --> 01:23:56.760 Has she been found out? 01:23:56.760 --> 01:24:01.560 Was this entire game just an elaborate ruse to trick her into confessing her guilt? 01:24:02.100 --> 01:24:03.900 Well, she’s not going to fall for it! 01:24:03.900 --> 01:24:07.320 She’s still the queen boss of this school and if any of these losers think that they 01:24:07.320 --> 01:24:10.620 can knock her off her perch with a silly game… they’re dead wrong! 01:24:11.280 --> 01:24:12.960 “What do you mean ‘we don’t know anything?’” 01:24:12.960 --> 01:24:15.420 The other goths are murmuring amongst themselves. 01:24:15.420 --> 01:24:19.140 Of course, they’ve heard the rumors about their leader as well, but they never really 01:24:19.140 --> 01:24:20.100 gave them much credence. 01:24:20.100 --> 01:24:23.340 She may be a little sharp, but that doesn’t make her capable of murder. 01:24:24.180 --> 01:24:28.200 But the way that this game has freaked her out so much is really beginning to make them 01:24:28.200 --> 01:24:28.380 wonder. 01:24:29.160 --> 01:24:33.720 The goth girl is frantic now, seeing her control slip away as the other kids begin to mull 01:24:33.720 --> 01:24:34.320 the possibilities. 01:24:34.320 --> 01:24:35.880 She can’t believe this! 01:24:35.880 --> 01:24:39.540 She wonders, desperately, if someone was there that night to see the whole terrible accident 01:24:39.540 --> 01:24:42.780 play out... or maybe she let something slip without knowing… 01:24:42.780 --> 01:24:45.120 what other explanation could there possibly be? 01:24:45.120 --> 01:24:46.380 “I’m out of here! 01:24:46.380 --> 01:24:46.860 Leave me alone! 01:24:46.860 --> 01:24:47.640 Don’t follow me!” 01:24:47.640 --> 01:24:49.260 she yells as she stomps away. 01:24:49.260 --> 01:24:53.820 The other goths don’t make any move to follow, intimidated by the wrath of their leader. 01:24:53.820 --> 01:24:59.160 But when the goth girl throws open the door to head back inside the school, she’s confronted 01:24:59.160 --> 01:25:00.420 with an unexpected sight. 01:25:01.020 --> 01:25:06.060 Instead of the long gray hallway, lined with lockers, that she expected, she instead sees 01:25:06.060 --> 01:25:07.320 a single empty room. 01:25:08.040 --> 01:25:12.360 It couldn’t be, but it looks exactly like the empty room from the game, the one that 01:25:12.360 --> 01:25:13.560 she glimpsed between levels. 01:25:14.280 --> 01:25:15.540 “This isn’t supposed to be here!” 01:25:15.540 --> 01:25:16.440 she cries. 01:25:16.440 --> 01:25:18.720 Behind her, the other goths stare in confusion. 01:25:18.720 --> 01:25:22.380 They too recognize the room from the game, but they can’t figure out for the life of 01:25:22.380 --> 01:25:24.180 them how it’s managed to appear in real life. 01:25:24.180 --> 01:25:25.260 What’s going on? 01:25:25.260 --> 01:25:27.480 Is her guilty mind playing tricks on her? 01:25:27.480 --> 01:25:31.560 No, that can’t be… the reaction of the other goths shows that they see it too. 01:25:31.560 --> 01:25:36.360 She doesn’t think she can trust her senses, but she also feels an overwhelming urge to 01:25:36.360 --> 01:25:37.620 step into that empty room. 01:25:37.620 --> 01:25:38.820 “Don’t go in!” 01:25:38.820 --> 01:25:40.860 calls the goth boy, but it’s too late. 01:25:40.860 --> 01:25:45.480 Internally her rational mind is screaming at her to stay out, but she can’t control 01:25:45.480 --> 01:25:46.080 her feet. 01:25:46.800 --> 01:25:50.280 She steps inside and the door swings closed behind her. 01:25:50.880 --> 01:25:54.660 The goth boy runs to the door and yanks it open, hoping to help his terrified friend. 01:25:54.660 --> 01:25:59.580 But beyond the door he sees nothing but the ordinary hallway that’s always there. 01:25:59.580 --> 01:26:02.760 The mysterious empty room is nowhere to be seen. 01:26:02.760 --> 01:26:06.060 And the goth girl has completely vanished with it. 01:26:06.780 --> 01:26:12.960 Not many people would say that SCP-1590, better known as The Book of Tamlin, is any fun. 01:26:13.620 --> 01:26:19.500 SCP-1590 is a downloadable app SCP-1590 has been designated as Euclid, and seven copies 01:26:19.500 --> 01:26:23.160 of the game are currently held by the foundation in a containment locker for experimentation 01:26:23.160 --> 01:26:23.640 purposes. 01:26:23.640 --> 01:26:29.940 Whenever the foundation discovers new instances of SCP-1590, information technicians initiate 01:26:29.940 --> 01:26:34.500 an immediate DDoS attack on the hosting server, and an MTF is to be sent in to appropriate 01:26:34.500 --> 01:26:35.040 all hardware. 01:26:35.040 --> 01:26:39.660 Any systems that were able to download copies of the game before the DDoS attack should 01:26:39.660 --> 01:26:44.220 be infected with the 'ComAmA' computer virus to prevent unwitting innocents from playing 01:26:44.220 --> 01:26:44.640 the game. 01:26:44.640 --> 01:26:49.260 SCP-1590 is a one-kilobyte  program, or 'application,'  01:26:49.260 --> 01:26:51.240 designed for use with touch screen hardware 01:26:51.240 --> 01:26:52.380 such as tablets. 01:26:52.980 --> 01:27:00.900 Attempts to view SCP-1590's coding reveal only the numbers 1 through 66,666 in numerical 01:27:00.900 --> 01:27:06.960 order, but on the front end, SCP-1590 plays as a mostly ordinary video game in the hidden 01:27:06.960 --> 01:27:08.100 object puzzle genre. 01:27:08.100 --> 01:27:12.480 Like other hidden object puzzle games, the player is given a list of objects that they 01:27:12.480 --> 01:27:14.640 must find in a scene within an allotted amount of time. 01:27:14.640 --> 01:27:21.480 What makes SCP-1590 unusual, though, is that as the game progresses, the scenes and hidden 01:27:21.480 --> 01:27:25.920 objects become more personal to the player – often referencing traumatic or unsettling 01:27:25.920 --> 01:27:27.240 events from the player’s life. 01:27:27.240 --> 01:27:33.780 It is not known how SCP-1590 is able to gain such intimate knowledge of a player, but since 01:27:33.780 --> 01:27:39.000 some players report that SCP-1590 seems privy to personal secrets that have never been revealed 01:27:39.000 --> 01:27:43.440 to another person, it is unlikely that it’s just due to very good research on the part 01:27:43.440 --> 01:27:44.400 of the game’s designers. 01:27:45.120 --> 01:27:50.460 The game always begins with the same dedication screen, containing the message "To Joey, who 01:27:50.460 --> 01:27:51.300 taught me how to be cool.” 01:27:51.300 --> 01:27:56.040 The dedication continues, listing another name who “who almost made it out." 01:27:56.040 --> 01:28:00.900 This second name changes with every play-through, but is always the name of the previous person 01:28:00.900 --> 01:28:01.680 to play the game. 01:28:02.460 --> 01:28:07.020 The dedication screen is followed by an animated cut scene, with a humanoid silhouette standing 01:28:07.020 --> 01:28:09.060 on the deck of what appears to be an oil tanker. 01:28:09.720 --> 01:28:13.140 The screen turns bright white, then returns to the oil tanker. 01:28:13.140 --> 01:28:16.620 A yellow wall, larger than the ship, has been added to the scene. 01:28:16.620 --> 01:28:21.060 The wall's appearance causes a wave to crash over the ship, waving the humanoid overboard. 01:28:21.060 --> 01:28:26.700 The screen fills with bubbles, and the words 'The Book of Tamlin' and 'Start Game' appear 01:28:26.700 --> 01:28:27.840 overlaid on the bubbles. 01:28:28.500 --> 01:28:32.700 The significance of this animated sequence, as well as the title ‘The Book of Tamlin,’ 01:28:32.700 --> 01:28:34.440 if any, is currently unknown. 01:28:35.100 --> 01:28:39.480 When a player chooses 'Start Game,' the title screen fades into an image of a cluttered 01:28:39.480 --> 01:28:39.600 room. 01:28:39.600 --> 01:28:44.400 The user is presented with a series of tasks, directing them to find objects hidden in the 01:28:44.400 --> 01:28:44.880 room image. 01:28:44.880 --> 01:28:49.260 The allotted time to find every object in a scene ranges from one to twelve minutes. 01:28:49.260 --> 01:28:54.900 Once the user finds every object in a scene, a set of doors appear on screen, and the player 01:28:54.900 --> 01:28:56.640 must choose one to progress in the game. 01:28:57.240 --> 01:29:01.920 The game continues through a random number of screens, labeled from 7 to 43. 01:29:01.920 --> 01:29:05.820 Eventually, if the user fails to find all objects in a scene within the time limit, 01:29:05.820 --> 01:29:07.620 the next scene will be an empty room. 01:29:07.620 --> 01:29:11.100 The words "You've found out everything there is to find about the House! 01:29:11.100 --> 01:29:13.920 Now all you have left to find, is the way out!" 01:29:13.920 --> 01:29:15.060 appear on the screen. 01:29:15.060 --> 01:29:19.200 At this point, the game ends, and cannot be replayed by the same user. 01:29:19.800 --> 01:29:24.240 The actual length of the game appears to vary from player to player, but even players who 01:29:24.240 --> 01:29:28.380 appear to win the game, always finding all hidden objects within the time limit, will 01:29:28.380 --> 01:29:31.500 eventually be shown the same end screen and receive the same message. 01:29:32.280 --> 01:29:36.180 As strange as the game is, what happens next is even stranger. 01:29:36.180 --> 01:29:40.800 Within seventy-two hours of completing the game, whether a player has ostensibly won 01:29:40.800 --> 01:29:44.760 or lost, the player will encounter the final room from the game in real life. 01:29:44.760 --> 01:29:50.340 They will find that some ordinary door, possibly in their home or work place, no longer leads 01:29:50.340 --> 01:29:54.600 to the room it should lead to… but instead leads to the empty room from the end of the 01:29:54.600 --> 01:29:54.720 game. 01:29:55.560 --> 01:29:57.600 If someone other than the player attempts  01:29:57.600 --> 01:29:59.580 to pass through the door,  they will find themselves 01:29:59.580 --> 01:30:03.900 not in the empty room from the game but instead in the room that the door normally leads to. 01:30:04.560 --> 01:30:08.760 If the player passes through the door, though, they disappear into the empty room. 01:30:08.760 --> 01:30:12.600 Any tracking devices cease to transmit after the user passes through the doorway. 01:30:12.600 --> 01:30:20.280 The Foundation currently has no idea who or what is behind SCP-1590 or how the game manages 01:30:20.280 --> 01:30:21.720 to access users’ memories. 01:30:21.720 --> 01:30:26.460 It’s also not clear what purpose the game solves, whether it’s intended as a therapy 01:30:26.460 --> 01:30:30.780 device to help subjects’ work through hidden trauma or as an instrument of justice to punish 01:30:30.780 --> 01:30:31.380 wrongdoing. 01:30:31.980 --> 01:30:36.120 Either way, you might want to make sure you have a clean conscience before you download 01:30:36.120 --> 01:30:38.100 any new mysterious games for your phone. 01:30:38.100 --> 01:30:42.300 You never know when you might find yourself confronting The Book of Tamlin. 01:30:42.300 --> 01:30:46.560 It’s a quiet morning in Lego  city - Until the robbery begins. 01:30:46.560 --> 01:30:52.860 Clients of Lego City’s first national Lego bank  barely notice at first as men in dark suits with   01:30:52.860 --> 01:30:58.200 plastic, black masks covering their faces slink  into the room from every conceivable entrance and   01:30:58.200 --> 01:31:04.200 exit. When these same ten sinister Lego strangers  all pull out guns, everyone pays close attention. 01:31:04.200 --> 01:31:09.720 “This is a robbery!” their leader says,  while firing his gun into the air. “We   01:31:09.720 --> 01:31:13.860 don’t want any heroes. If you try to disrupt  our operation, we’ll blow you into bricks!” 01:31:14.580 --> 01:31:17.040 The patrons hit the ground,  cowering for dear life,   01:31:17.040 --> 01:31:21.420 as five of the masked robbers approach the  tellers with open bags, and the other five   01:31:21.420 --> 01:31:27.180 work crowd control - Pointing their weapons  at the cowering civilians. These men are   01:31:27.180 --> 01:31:32.280 hardened Lego criminals - If something goes  south, they won’t hesitate to start blasting. 01:31:32.940 --> 01:31:36.660 “Empty your vaults, lady,” the leader  says to one of the tellers. “We ain’t   01:31:36.660 --> 01:31:38.820 messing around! We’ll ice everyone in here!” 01:31:38.820 --> 01:31:42.420 But the teller doesn’t follow his orders. Instead,   01:31:42.420 --> 01:31:47.400 she reaches under her desk and presses a  tiny red button, hidden from sight. Suddenly,   01:31:47.400 --> 01:31:52.500 the room erupts in red flashes and alarms as  the bank’s security system activates. Robbers   01:31:52.500 --> 01:31:57.900 and hostages alike feel themselves beginning to  panic - But the leader, he stays cool and still. 01:31:58.680 --> 01:32:03.240 Less than ten seconds pass before the alarm  stops. You could hear a pin drop in the room.   01:32:03.240 --> 01:32:09.240 Locks deactivate, and shutters roll back up. The  teller is confused and horrified. What happened!? 01:32:10.020 --> 01:32:15.060 Little does she know, in a van parked outside,  an eleventh member of the Lego robbery team is   01:32:15.060 --> 01:32:19.140 working on a sophisticated computer setup.  He’s hacked into the bank’s security system,   01:32:19.140 --> 01:32:22.740 and he’s been able to both shut down  the alarm system and intercept the   01:32:22.740 --> 01:32:26.880 message that goes out to the local police  precinct. The plan is unfolding perfectly. 01:32:26.880 --> 01:32:31.080 “Nice try,” the leader says,  and shoots the Lego teller dead. 01:32:31.800 --> 01:32:34.740 Everyone in the room, including  the other Lego robbers,   01:32:34.740 --> 01:32:38.760 gasp. Nobody is prepared for things  to get this ugly, this quickly. 01:32:39.360 --> 01:32:41.580 “Anyone feel like helping me out here?” the leader   01:32:41.580 --> 01:32:43.860 says. “Or am I gonna need to  start wasting more tellers?” 01:32:43.860 --> 01:32:46.800 The surviving tellers read  the message loud and clear.   01:32:46.800 --> 01:32:50.460 They open up the vaults and begin  wheeling out stacks of Lego cash,   01:32:50.460 --> 01:32:54.900 which the robbers begin stuffing into  containers and duffel bags. In total,   01:32:54.900 --> 01:33:00.420 they steal over two million Lego dollars. Each  member of the team is going to get a hefty payout. 01:33:00.420 --> 01:33:04.320 With the mission completed, there’s  no sense in hanging around. They need   01:33:04.320 --> 01:33:07.260 to hop into their Lego getaway cars  and be out of there before the Lego   01:33:07.260 --> 01:33:11.580 cops show up. But by the time they’re  leaving the bank, it’s already too late. 01:33:12.240 --> 01:33:16.980 Lego cop cars are tearing down the street towards  their parked getaway vehicles. It doesn’t make   01:33:16.980 --> 01:33:21.120 sense - Their operation was perfectly  planned. Military in its precision. The   01:33:21.120 --> 01:33:24.360 whole thing had been over in less than three  minutes, how are the cops on them already? 01:33:25.200 --> 01:33:28.740 But none of them have time to think.  The cop cars screech to a halt,   01:33:28.740 --> 01:33:30.600 and armed officers start climbing out,   01:33:30.600 --> 01:33:34.680 training their guns on the gobsmacked team of  Lego robbers standing in front of the bank. 01:33:34.680 --> 01:33:36.540 “Freeze! Put down the weapons and the   01:33:36.540 --> 01:33:40.860 bags, or we’ll be forced to take action!”  a Lego cop screams over a Lego megaphone. 01:33:41.520 --> 01:33:47.700 The only reply they get is gunfire. The leader  levels his Lego gun and starts blasting, taking   01:33:47.700 --> 01:33:52.860 out two cops and forcing the rest to scramble for  cover behind their vehicles. Taking advantage of   01:33:52.860 --> 01:33:57.060 the moment of opportunity, the robbers scatter  like cockroaches under a newly lifted rock. 01:33:57.780 --> 01:34:03.240 Most make it to their cars, but in the confusion,  the Lego police are able to return fire. One of   01:34:03.240 --> 01:34:08.040 the robbers - The tallest but slowest of the  hardened criminal team - goes down in a hail   01:34:08.040 --> 01:34:12.120 of bullets. Another one of the robbers,  who’d been his friend, screams in rage   01:34:12.120 --> 01:34:16.740 and turns his gun on the police, firing like a  madman, not even caring if he hits his target. 01:34:17.400 --> 01:34:20.400 A conveniently placed police sniper  in the building across from them   01:34:20.400 --> 01:34:23.340 wings him with an expert shoulder  shot that drops him to the ground,   01:34:23.340 --> 01:34:27.600 alive but too injured to escape.  He’s nothing but dead weight now. 01:34:27.600 --> 01:34:33.000 The remaining eight robbers pile into three  Lego getaway vehicles: Two classic cars manned   01:34:33.000 --> 01:34:37.140 by getaway drivers, and the van where the team’s  elite Lego hacker had been doing his high-tech   01:34:37.140 --> 01:34:42.480 work. Now, their job is a lot more simple: Get  out of here without getting caught or killed. 01:34:43.080 --> 01:34:47.160 Immediately, the chase spills out onto the  streets. They’d planned for this possibility:   01:34:47.160 --> 01:34:51.180 After completing the job, they’d each head  to three different predesignated safe zones,   01:34:51.180 --> 01:34:55.020 so if one was followed, they wouldn’t  implicate the others. The plan is   01:34:55.020 --> 01:34:59.340 complicated by seemingly having every single  one of the city’s cops on their tail now. 01:34:59.340 --> 01:35:04.560 Contact between the three vehicles immediately  breaks down. The leader of the robbers is in the   01:35:04.560 --> 01:35:10.380 fastest of the getaway cars, with three others:  The driver, the rookie, and the old timer. Behind   01:35:10.380 --> 01:35:15.240 them, scores of Lego police cars surge through the  streets. Armed officers hang out of the passenger   01:35:15.240 --> 01:35:19.620 doors, opening fire on their escape vehicle,  hoping to hit them or at least pop the tires. 01:35:20.160 --> 01:35:23.460 “They wanna play rough, huh?” the  leader says to his panicking fellow   01:35:23.460 --> 01:35:25.440 criminals. “We’ll show them how to play rough!” 01:35:26.160 --> 01:35:28.200 The leader and the old timer grab a pair of Lego   01:35:28.200 --> 01:35:30.960 submachine guns that are lying  across the floor of the car.   01:35:31.680 --> 01:35:36.720 They lock and load, before leaning out the car  windows to return fire. If they’re going to go   01:35:36.720 --> 01:35:41.820 down today, it’s going to be in a blaze of glory,  not bruised and humiliated in a holding cell. 01:35:41.820 --> 01:35:43.560 “You’ll never take us alive,   01:35:43.560 --> 01:35:47.700 coppers!” The older timer barks as he and  the leader open fire on their pursuers. 01:35:48.360 --> 01:35:52.860 It’s a parabolic hell storm, skittering bullets  across the hoods of the police cars behind them.   01:35:52.860 --> 01:35:57.840 The windshields of even Lego police cars are  reinforced to take this kind of punishment, but   01:35:57.840 --> 01:36:02.880 not for long. Soon enough, the surge of cars is  buckling under the weight of fire from the leader   01:36:02.880 --> 01:36:07.380 and the old timer. Cars are crashing into each  other and piling up, as the criminals take off. 01:36:08.100 --> 01:36:11.340 What should have been a simple robbery  is quickly spiraling into a nightmare   01:36:11.340 --> 01:36:16.260 for all involved. The death toll is already  in the double digits, and the chase goes on,   01:36:16.260 --> 01:36:21.180 with frequent gunfire exchanged between the Lego  robbers and their Lego boys in blue pursuers. 01:36:21.180 --> 01:36:25.560 Above all this, above the chase,  above the gunfire, above the robbery,   01:36:25.560 --> 01:36:30.120 two almost godlike giants stare  down on the whole chaotic display.   01:36:30.960 --> 01:36:37.260 These godlike giants are, in fact, a pair of young  boys, aged eight and nine. Less than an hour ago,   01:36:37.260 --> 01:36:41.940 these boys were just bored kids who’d run  out of games to play on their Xbox. They   01:36:41.940 --> 01:36:46.140 had decided to go a little retro and switch  up the Minecraft for a classic box of Lego. 01:36:46.140 --> 01:36:49.620 One of the two young boys remarked,  “I think my dad has a big,   01:36:49.620 --> 01:36:52.680 red box of Lego in his office. He  probably won’t mind if we use it!” 01:36:52.680 --> 01:36:57.840 Of course, what the boy didn’t know was that  his father wasn’t, contrary to his own belief,   01:36:57.840 --> 01:37:02.520 an accountant who worked in the city. He was  actually a mid-Level researcher working with   01:37:02.520 --> 01:37:07.980 the SCP Foundation - And quite the workaholic at  that. He had a tendency to bring his work home   01:37:07.980 --> 01:37:13.020 with him, metaphorically and in the case of some  Safe-class SCPs when given the proper clearances,   01:37:13.020 --> 01:37:21.480 literally. One such SCP was SCP-387, the Living  Lego, a toy that genuinely has a mind of its own. 01:37:22.140 --> 01:37:26.820 While completely inert and seemingly normal  inside their red box, when removed and even   01:37:26.820 --> 01:37:32.160 partially constructed, the Lego comes to life  and begins playing out its roles - from planes   01:37:32.160 --> 01:37:38.580 to tanks to hospitals to war zones. And these Lego  creations are extremely committed to their parts. 01:37:39.240 --> 01:37:42.900 After finding the box, the young boys did  what all children do when they happened   01:37:42.900 --> 01:37:48.120 upon a box full of lego: They started building.  And thanks to their vast juvenile imaginations,   01:37:48.120 --> 01:37:52.260 it didn’t take long for them to construct  an impressive Lego city in the living room.   01:37:53.040 --> 01:37:58.200 But a standard city full of Lego, running  smoothly, is no fun. The boys needed to   01:37:58.200 --> 01:38:02.820 introduce a little extra excitement to the  proceedings - like, say, a team of bank robbers. 01:38:03.420 --> 01:38:08.040 The one thing the two young boys don’t expect  is for the bank robbers, when introduced to   01:38:08.040 --> 01:38:13.080 the city, to start independently planning and  executing a heist on the city’s biggest bank.   01:38:13.680 --> 01:38:16.200 Still, there are worse ways  to kill a rainy Sunday. 01:38:17.040 --> 01:38:20.340 Back on the ground of the Lego city, the  other getaway vehicles are running into   01:38:20.340 --> 01:38:23.580 trouble. The other car had initially  managed to pull ahead from the police,   01:38:23.580 --> 01:38:29.100 but while trying to cross a bridge, it runs into  an unexpected roadblock. Literally. The Lego   01:38:29.100 --> 01:38:33.780 police have built a roadblock on the other side  of the bridge, and now it’s too late to reverse. 01:38:33.780 --> 01:38:38.940 “Open fire!” An enraged Lego police captain  yells to his assembled squadron behind the   01:38:38.940 --> 01:38:41.640 barricades, and they raise the guns and do so. 01:38:42.360 --> 01:38:46.020 Lego bullets pepper the getaway car.  They can’t drive through the barricade,   01:38:46.020 --> 01:38:50.580 all they can do is make a sharp left turn  and hope to avoid the onslaught. Instead,   01:38:50.580 --> 01:38:53.820 they smash through the Lego  barricade and tumble off the bridge.   01:38:54.540 --> 01:38:58.680 The car sails into the freezing Lego  river, where the sudden cold paralyzes   01:38:58.680 --> 01:39:03.600 the robbers and the getaway driver inside.  They go into shock and drown moments later. 01:39:04.380 --> 01:39:09.300 Across the Lego city, the van containing the  hacker, the getaway driver, and another robber   01:39:09.300 --> 01:39:13.560 has somehow blended in with the traffic and has  managed to escape the relentless police chase.   01:39:14.220 --> 01:39:18.720 Everyone inside the van breathes a sigh of relief,  knowing they’ve already done better than most of   01:39:18.720 --> 01:39:23.100 their fellow criminals tonight. If they manage to  make it through, there’ll be much to celebrate. 01:39:23.760 --> 01:39:28.920 For them, the next stage of the mission is clear:  They need to make their way to a warehouse in the   01:39:28.920 --> 01:39:33.000 industrial district, their designated drop off  area, where they could hide their stolen money   01:39:33.000 --> 01:39:38.460 and disappear like leaves in the wind. They’ve  already been through the hard parts: The planning,   01:39:38.460 --> 01:39:43.680 the robbery itself, the shootout, and car chase  with the police. They’re out of the woods now. 01:39:44.280 --> 01:39:45.840 Or so they thought. 01:39:46.440 --> 01:39:49.440 When they arrive at the warehouse  and drive inside, parking their van,   01:39:49.440 --> 01:39:55.260 they immediately realize that something is off.  But by now, it’s too late to do anything about   01:39:55.260 --> 01:39:59.820 it. They suddenly hear footsteps and the  screech of tires as heavy police tactical   01:39:59.820 --> 01:40:04.020 vehicles squeal into the warehouse all  around them, boxing them in. Lego SWAT   01:40:04.020 --> 01:40:07.620 Team Operatives climb out of each vehicle  and train their weapons on the trapped van. 01:40:08.340 --> 01:40:11.460 One of them yells, “We have you  surrounded. There’s no way out.   01:40:11.460 --> 01:40:14.400 Drop your weapons and surrender if  you want to walk out of here alive!” 01:40:14.400 --> 01:40:19.020 And so, with no other options,  this is exactly what they do.   01:40:19.740 --> 01:40:22.260 When they exit the vehicle with  their hands behind their heads,   01:40:22.260 --> 01:40:26.880 the Lego SWAT Team tackles them and claps  cuffs around their wrist. They’ll likely be   01:40:26.880 --> 01:40:31.440 spending the rest of their lives in jail for  this fiasco, but at least they get to live. 01:40:32.100 --> 01:40:36.420 Across the city, only four members of  the robbery team remain alive and free:   01:40:36.420 --> 01:40:40.380 The leader, the old timer, the rookie,  and the remaining getaway driver,   01:40:40.380 --> 01:40:44.460 all of whom narrowly managed to escape the  extensive police detail following them.   01:40:45.000 --> 01:40:49.260 It had been a mix of skill and blind luck,  but the leader knows that one thing about   01:40:49.260 --> 01:40:53.280 this whole situation has nothing to do with  luck: With all the planning they’d been doing,   01:40:53.280 --> 01:40:57.840 and the disabling of the bank’s security  system, how had the police been on them so fast? 01:40:57.840 --> 01:41:04.320 There’s only one logical answer: They’d been set  up. One member of the team was secretly working   01:41:04.320 --> 01:41:08.760 with the Lego city police, and they’d sold  the rest of them down the river. The leader   01:41:08.760 --> 01:41:13.080 doesn’t know who, specifically, ruined this  entire operation like that, but he intends   01:41:13.080 --> 01:41:17.400 to find out - And when he does, he’s going  to make them pay dearly for their betrayal. 01:41:18.060 --> 01:41:20.640 But for now, he stays quiet. He doesn’t want   01:41:20.640 --> 01:41:23.280 to show all his cards before they  made their way to the safe house,   01:41:23.280 --> 01:41:28.080 if it was even safe anymore. Still, they’ll  deal with that problem when they get to it. 01:41:28.080 --> 01:41:32.280 After a tense ten minutes of silent driving,  they reach the planned rendezvous point:   01:41:32.280 --> 01:41:36.420 Another warehouse in the city docks, built  against the section of blue carpet that the   01:41:36.420 --> 01:41:40.140 young boys who made this world intended  to represent the ocean. Here, they’d wait   01:41:40.140 --> 01:41:43.980 for a speedboat chartered by their employers  to pick up them and their ill-gotten gains. 01:41:43.980 --> 01:41:45.960 If they survive that long. 01:41:45.960 --> 01:41:50.340 The getaway driver parks the car out of  view in the abandoned oceanside warehouse   01:41:50.340 --> 01:41:55.200 and the criminals inside pile out, breathing  carefully and stretching their little Lego legs.   01:41:55.740 --> 01:42:00.180 There’s tension in the air. And, of course,  it’s the leader who breaks the silence. 01:42:00.900 --> 01:42:03.240 “Someone here hasn’t been entirely honest with   01:42:03.240 --> 01:42:07.260 us,” he says, taking out his Lego  handgun. “There’s no way the cops   01:42:07.260 --> 01:42:10.080 could get on us that quickly if they  hadn’t been given some kind of tip.” 01:42:10.740 --> 01:42:16.260 Another grim silence falls over the room. The old  timer, the rookie, and the getaway driver share a   01:42:16.260 --> 01:42:21.120 suspicious glance. Who among them could be the  imposter? The daring escape they’d managed to   01:42:21.120 --> 01:42:25.740 perform no longer gives them comfort. The millions  of dollars in the trunk of their little Lego car   01:42:25.740 --> 01:42:29.820 may still be forfeit, if one of the people  in this warehouse is a police informant. 01:42:30.420 --> 01:42:32.880 The silence is once again broken by the leader,   01:42:32.880 --> 01:42:37.020 who raises his weapon and shoots the  getaway driver dead. The rookie and the   01:42:37.020 --> 01:42:40.680 old timer are horrified by the seemingly  callous and random display of violence. 01:42:40.680 --> 01:42:43.020 “What’s wrong with you?” the old timer barks. 01:42:43.020 --> 01:42:45.960 The rookie chimes in with, “What  made you think he was the mole?” 01:42:45.960 --> 01:42:48.780 The leader just laughs, his weapon still raised,   01:42:48.780 --> 01:42:52.020 its barrel drifting back and forth  between the old timer and the rookie.   01:42:52.020 --> 01:42:56.580 His indifference to violence frightens  them. He seems unpredictable and dangerous. 01:42:57.300 --> 01:43:01.920 “No reason,” the leader says. “He’d already  done his job, we don’t need a getaway driver   01:43:01.920 --> 01:43:06.900 anymore. And getting rid of him narrows down  my options: Which one of you squealed on us?” 01:43:06.900 --> 01:43:11.520 The rookie pulls out his own gun and aims it  at the leader. The old timer follows suit,   01:43:11.520 --> 01:43:15.780 not wanting to be left out. They  now have a full-on Mexican standoff   01:43:15.780 --> 01:43:19.140 on their hands. Only the leader seems unfazed. 01:43:19.140 --> 01:43:22.500 The rookie says, “If what you say  about there being a squealer is true,   01:43:22.500 --> 01:43:25.560 how would you know it’d be one of us,  and not someone from the other teams?” 01:43:25.560 --> 01:43:30.240 The leader shrugs. “I can’t know for sure,  but I’m not going to take any chances.” 01:43:30.900 --> 01:43:34.620 He levels the gun at the rookie and  prepares to fire, when suddenly,   01:43:34.620 --> 01:43:39.000 a nearby window shatters. It’s the police.  Their little internal dispute would have   01:43:39.000 --> 01:43:43.080 to wait if they wanted to keep a single  Lego cent of the money they’d stolen. 01:43:43.080 --> 01:43:46.560 Heavily-armed Lego police officers  bust open the door with a battering   01:43:46.560 --> 01:43:51.480 ram while others climb through windows.  It’s another classic ambush. The leader   01:43:51.480 --> 01:43:55.440 and the old timer turn their guns towards the  invading Lego cops and start firing wildly,   01:43:55.440 --> 01:44:00.360 shooting some and scaring away others as they  run towards the car. They can’t escape here   01:44:00.360 --> 01:44:03.780 without the money - If they don’t bring the  money, then all this chaos was for nothing. 01:44:03.780 --> 01:44:08.760 The leader runs across the warehouse, narrowly  dodging the hail of Lego bullets firing all   01:44:08.760 --> 01:44:13.860 around him, and skids to a stop behind the  getaway car. Even with gunshots ringing out   01:44:13.860 --> 01:44:18.060 from every direction, the leader keeps his  cool and reaches into the car. He manages   01:44:18.060 --> 01:44:22.260 to find the largest duffel bag and slings it  over his shoulder. Even if he doesn’t get all   01:44:22.260 --> 01:44:25.860 of the money, he can run away with most of  it, when that chartered speedboat arrives. 01:44:25.860 --> 01:44:31.140 Nobody involved in this even notices when the  roof lifts entirely off of the warehouse. The   01:44:31.140 --> 01:44:35.520 two huge young boys stare in from above, curious  about where the story is heading down below.   01:44:36.180 --> 01:44:40.320 They’re here just in time to see the tense  shootout continue as the desperate leader   01:44:40.320 --> 01:44:43.920 pops out from his cover and returns fire  against the advancing line of police. 01:44:44.640 --> 01:44:48.960 The old timer tries his best to hold his own,  holding a gun in each hand and firing wildly,   01:44:48.960 --> 01:44:53.580 but his recklessness soon catches up with him.  Outnumbered, the cops with Lego shotguns and   01:44:53.580 --> 01:44:58.020 assault rifles unload on him, leaving him  every bit as dead as the getaway driver. 01:44:58.980 --> 01:45:04.200 Ducking away to avoid the same fate, the leader  notices something: The rookie is nowhere to be   01:45:04.200 --> 01:45:11.340 seen. Not dead, just gone. He knew it - Of course,  the rookie had been the mole all along. He should   01:45:11.340 --> 01:45:15.840 never have trusted the little creep. It had  been a perfect plan, and he’d ruined everything! 01:45:15.840 --> 01:45:19.140 Over the din of gunfire, the  leader hears something else:   01:45:19.140 --> 01:45:22.140 A boat motor! It’s the chartered speedboat,   01:45:22.140 --> 01:45:26.580 his ticket out of this nightmare of bullets  and broken promises. He might win, after all! 01:45:27.240 --> 01:45:30.420 He turns and sees the speedboat entering  the submerged part of the warehouse,   01:45:30.420 --> 01:45:33.900 just out of view of the police strike  force. It would be a risky move,   01:45:33.900 --> 01:45:36.840 but he knows he can make it.  He doesn’t have any choice. 01:45:36.840 --> 01:45:40.620 Throwing caution to the wind, the  leader turns and runs towards the boat,   01:45:40.620 --> 01:45:44.760 dodging every bullet that the police fire  at him. He’s doing it! He’s doing it! 01:45:44.760 --> 01:45:47.220 He jumps into the boat, and the boat takes off,   01:45:47.220 --> 01:45:50.460 speeding away from the warehouse.  He laughs in crazed relief,   01:45:50.460 --> 01:45:55.380 still lugging the duffel bag full of money off  his aching shoulder. He’s out. He’s home free! 01:45:55.380 --> 01:46:00.300 Until a giant hand from above descends  and grabs his Lego boat. He’s lifted   01:46:00.300 --> 01:46:04.140 up and thrown back into the red box he was  originally taken from - While the two young   01:46:04.140 --> 01:46:08.460 boys start taking apart the rest of the Lego  city and tidying it back into the box too. 01:46:08.460 --> 01:46:12.720 “My dad will be home soon,” one of the young  boys says. “We better clean up before he’s back.” 01:46:13.860 --> 01:46:17.160 These winters are getting worse  every year. That’s for sure. 01:46:17.820 --> 01:46:21.960 The Old Cattle Rancher doesn’t know if it’s  the climate changing, God’s judgment arriving,   01:46:21.960 --> 01:46:27.660 or if he’s just getting older and struggling  to keep up. Probably a strong mix of all of it.   01:46:28.260 --> 01:46:34.440 Whatever the cause, it doesn’t change the facts.  It’s deathly cold out there. His ailing, elderly   01:46:34.440 --> 01:46:39.480 Ma’s health continues to deteriorate. He hasn’t  heard from his delivery driver, Jorge, in days.   01:46:39.480 --> 01:46:45.000 And on top of it all, his loyal dog, Marybell, is  out there, barking into the darkness of the barn. 01:46:45.660 --> 01:46:49.560 The Rancher heads out to fetch her. He  doesn’t know what he’d do if she froze. 01:46:50.100 --> 01:46:54.840 He whistles, but she doesn’t look back at him.  She just carries on barking up that road into   01:46:54.840 --> 01:46:59.520 the snowy night. The Rancher wades through the  snow and peers in the direction she’s looking. 01:47:00.360 --> 01:47:01.800 “There’s nothing there girl, get inside.” 01:47:02.640 --> 01:47:05.280 But Marybell keeps barking. She’s insisting. 01:47:05.280 --> 01:47:08.340 He looks again. Is that…? 01:47:08.340 --> 01:47:12.840 The Rancher takes off running up the road. All  thoughts of cold immediately gone from his mind,   01:47:12.840 --> 01:47:17.880 he races towards the figure as fast as he can.  His frozen fingers fumble at the zipper on his   01:47:17.880 --> 01:47:22.680 parka. Icy wind stabs the insides of his  lungs. Marybell shoots off ahead of him. 01:47:22.680 --> 01:47:27.660 There, he pulls the zipper down and wrestles  the thick coat off of his shoulders just as he   01:47:27.660 --> 01:47:31.860 reaches the tiny figure. He drops to his knees  and throws the coat over the shoulders of the   01:47:31.860 --> 01:47:37.260 little girl standing alone in the snow. Quick as  he can, he wraps it tightly around her, pulling   01:47:37.260 --> 01:47:41.880 the hood up and over her head. He takes her tiny  shoulders in his hands and gives her a shake. 01:47:41.880 --> 01:47:44.700 “Are you okay? Hello? Can you hear me?” 01:47:45.420 --> 01:47:51.420 The girl sways for a moment, then collapses. He  catches her and, in one deft motion, scoops her   01:47:51.420 --> 01:47:55.800 into his arms and takes off back down the road  in the direction of his farm. Where the hell had   01:47:55.800 --> 01:48:01.620 she come from? There are no buildings around here  for miles. No one uses that road except Jorge. And   01:48:01.620 --> 01:48:06.240 in this weather, she couldn’t have walked all the  way over those mountains, she’d have frozen solid. 01:48:06.240 --> 01:48:11.940 He bites the finger of a glove and pulls it off.  With his bare hand, he clasps one of hers. By   01:48:11.940 --> 01:48:17.160 the feel of her skin, she pretty much is frozen  solid already. He needs to get her warmed up. Now. 01:48:17.160 --> 01:48:20.640 He kicks open the front door and  bundles inside with a flurry of   01:48:20.640 --> 01:48:24.720 snowflakes and an anxious dog at his  heels. The fire’s not quite dead yet,   01:48:24.720 --> 01:48:27.900 so he rushes over to the hearth and  lays the little girl down next to it.   01:48:28.440 --> 01:48:32.700 He can barely see her at all wrapped up in his  enormous coat. She doesn’t seem to be moving. 01:48:33.360 --> 01:48:36.240 “Ma! I’m home! I… I found someone.” 01:48:36.900 --> 01:48:40.800 The Rancher grabs two dry logs from  the side and throws them onto the fire.   01:48:40.800 --> 01:48:44.700 He piles kindling high on top of them  and blows steadily into the embers at   01:48:44.700 --> 01:48:50.880 the bottom. They glow and swell in size. No  taking yet. He blows again for longer. And   01:48:50.880 --> 01:48:57.300 again. He feels his head starting to swim.  A crackle. A lick of flame. It’s taken! 01:48:57.300 --> 01:49:00.840 Panting, he turns back to the bundled-up  coat on the floor with the child inside.   01:49:00.840 --> 01:49:05.580 Still no movement. A sickening knot  tightens his stomach. What if she’s…? 01:49:05.580 --> 01:49:08.460 No. Don’t let yourself think that. Not yet. 01:49:09.240 --> 01:49:11.340 He reaches down and gently undoes the zipper   01:49:11.340 --> 01:49:14.180 on the parka. His trembling  fingers push back the hood. 01:49:14.180 --> 01:49:20.820 She’s pale. Deathly pale. Her dark brown  hair is wet and clings to her scalp. The   01:49:20.820 --> 01:49:26.520 tips are frozen. At a guess, she must  only be 9 years old. Eyes closed, lips   01:49:26.520 --> 01:49:32.340 a sickening blue. But that’s not the color that  scares him the most. On her neck, there’s red. 01:49:32.340 --> 01:49:36.720 Delicately as he can, the Rancher takes  the coat off her shoulders and hangs it   01:49:36.720 --> 01:49:40.680 up by the fire. She’s dressed only in  a plaid shirt, way too big for her.   01:49:40.680 --> 01:49:44.760 It looks like an adult’s shirt, similar  to an old one he used to have years ago.   01:49:45.420 --> 01:49:51.960 But on her neck, her hands, her feet, is that same  deep red. Layers of blood, frozen to her skin. 01:49:52.680 --> 01:49:58.560 He sits back, his mind blank. He’s seen that much  blood before. Sure he has. When you work with   01:49:58.560 --> 01:50:03.960 cattle, it’s an unfortunate part of the job. He’s  seen cows bleed out during childbirth. The girl   01:50:03.960 --> 01:50:08.760 in front of him? She’s the same color as those  orphaned calves that lie crying on the floor. 01:50:09.540 --> 01:50:12.420 A groaning sound fills the room. The Rancher looks   01:50:12.420 --> 01:50:15.600 across at the armchair where his  Ma sits. She doesn’t look at him,   01:50:15.600 --> 01:50:20.400 doesn’t look at the girl on the floor. She just  stares into the fire, same way she always does. 01:50:21.600 --> 01:50:24.120 Ma groans again. Trying to express something she   01:50:24.120 --> 01:50:27.000 doesn’t understand. Being in  a world without living in it. 01:50:27.540 --> 01:50:32.940 “Ma, it’s okay. Sorry if I startled you.  We have a um… we have a guest with us.” 01:50:33.840 --> 01:50:38.820 But she just keeps on groaning and staring into  the fire. The Rancher buries his head in his hands   01:50:38.820 --> 01:50:45.180 and lets out a deep breath. Only, the sound of  his breath is joined by another. A tiny breath,   01:50:45.180 --> 01:50:50.160 rattling and rasping through a damaged child’s  throat. Trying its best to keep its host alive. 01:50:50.160 --> 01:50:54.300 The Rancher opens his eyes and stares  at the child. She isn’t conscious,   01:50:54.300 --> 01:50:59.280 not by a long shot, but she’s breathing.  A little at a time. The icicles in her   01:50:59.280 --> 01:51:02.580 hair have turned into rounded droplets of  water that glow by the heat of the fire. 01:51:03.360 --> 01:51:07.740 He snaps back to his senses. He’s not doing  her much if she’s just lying there soaking wet.   01:51:08.400 --> 01:51:12.060 He runs off upstairs and grabs some  towels and a fresh flannel shirt to   01:51:12.060 --> 01:51:15.840 wear. After several minutes of drying  her off, he’s confident enough that   01:51:15.840 --> 01:51:19.620 he’s got most of the water off. There’s  still a lot of blood caked to her skin,   01:51:19.620 --> 01:51:23.100 but as far as he can tell, there’s no wound  anywhere that it could have come from. 01:51:23.100 --> 01:51:27.780 Brow furrowed, he leaves her under a bundle of  blankets and fills up the kettle with water.   01:51:28.380 --> 01:51:32.820 Hanging it carefully over the fire, he walks  over to the cabinet and fishes out a tin of   01:51:32.820 --> 01:51:37.800 coco from the top shelf. Hasn’t been used in  years but should still be fine. He would make   01:51:37.800 --> 01:51:42.180 it with milk, but she’s probably dehydrated.  Lifting the kettle’s lid with the poker,   01:51:42.180 --> 01:51:46.020 the Rancher pours the brown powder  inside and waits for it to boil. 01:51:46.020 --> 01:51:50.460 The little girl’s eyes are open now.  She’s staring into the flames. Her lips   01:51:50.460 --> 01:51:53.160 are looking a little more pink,  her skin a little more blotchy. 01:51:53.820 --> 01:51:58.500 “You’re safe here. Just stay by the  fire and warm up a bit. You like cocoa?” 01:51:59.040 --> 01:52:02.520 The little girl drags her eyes away  from the flames. Her expression is   01:52:02.520 --> 01:52:05.160 mostly blank. She looks too tired to be confused. 01:52:05.760 --> 01:52:06.480 “I don’t know.” 01:52:06.480 --> 01:52:10.200 “I think you will. Ma always gave me cocoa.” 01:52:10.200 --> 01:52:10.680 “Okay.” 01:52:11.400 --> 01:52:17.100 And with that, the farmhouse falls silent. The  little girl stares into the fire. The Rancher   01:52:17.100 --> 01:52:21.660 watches her, finally feeling the wave of  exhaustion crashing over him. His Ma has   01:52:21.660 --> 01:52:26.700 fallen asleep in her armchair. Only Marybel stays  awake through the whole night, staying close to   01:52:26.700 --> 01:52:30.740 the little girl by the fire. Occasionally  licking her toes to try and warm them up. 01:52:30.740 --> 01:52:31.740 ** 01:52:31.740 --> 01:52:36.240 By the morning, the snow’s stopped, but  the huge drifts remain. As the Rancher   01:52:36.240 --> 01:52:40.560 walks across to the barn, he finds it hard  to believe that just a few hours ago, the   01:52:40.560 --> 01:52:45.120 winds were whipping at his face as hard as they  were. The world this morning is totally still. 01:52:45.120 --> 01:52:50.100 What the Rancher finds even harder to believe is  that there’s a little girl in his house right now,   01:52:50.100 --> 01:52:53.940 fast asleep by the fire. He checked her  forehead when he woke up this morning,   01:52:53.940 --> 01:52:58.680 and she miraculously hasn’t caught a fever. She  can’t have been out in that weather for too long,   01:52:58.680 --> 01:53:02.460 but it only makes the question more  mysterious. Where did she come from? 01:53:03.240 --> 01:53:06.360 Marybell didn’t get up this morning.  From all of the excitement last night,   01:53:06.360 --> 01:53:10.140 she must have been too tired for today.  Walking through the crisp morning air,   01:53:10.140 --> 01:53:15.420 he can’t really blame her. He shoulders the  barn door open. A column of steam curls out   01:53:15.420 --> 01:53:20.340 of the opening. All of that warmth, humidity, and  cattle smell is strangely comforting this morning. 01:53:20.940 --> 01:53:25.920 But as the Rancher goes around checking on all the  cows inside, he very quickly discovers a problem.   01:53:26.580 --> 01:53:32.760 They’re thin, way too thin. Some of them look to  be on the verge of starvation. He’d missed it last   01:53:32.760 --> 01:53:37.620 night as he drove them down in the dark but in the  warm glow of the barn’s lights it’s unmistakable.   01:53:38.340 --> 01:53:40.620 These cows haven’t been eating properly. 01:53:41.400 --> 01:53:44.220 He pours out several sacks of  grain for them into the troughs,   01:53:44.220 --> 01:53:48.780 and they all gather round hungrily, filling  both their stomachs as fast as they can. The   01:53:48.780 --> 01:53:52.500 Rancher leans on the railing for a  moment confused. Even in this cold,   01:53:52.500 --> 01:53:56.640 there was still plenty of green grass for them  up on the ridge. That’s why he’d taken them   01:53:56.640 --> 01:54:00.180 up there. They should have had no trouble  eating until the snow came in last night. 01:54:00.720 --> 01:54:05.220 He doesn’t like this one bit. Last time Jorge  had driven down and collected some of the meat,   01:54:05.220 --> 01:54:09.480 he’d had a few questions about the quantity  being smaller than usual. Were the cows sick   01:54:09.480 --> 01:54:15.480 at all? Not that the Rancher could tell. But now  looking at them it’s clear as day. Something’s up. 01:54:15.480 --> 01:54:16.140 ** 01:54:16.140 --> 01:54:16.980 “You hungry?” 01:54:16.980 --> 01:54:21.000 The little girl nods. They sit across  the table from one another eating   01:54:21.000 --> 01:54:25.080 homemade bread and soup. Ma stays  over by the fire. Marybel slowly   01:54:25.080 --> 01:54:28.080 wanders over to the kitchenette and  flops down on the floor, exhausted. 01:54:28.620 --> 01:54:29.280 “Where you from?” 01:54:29.280 --> 01:54:31.020 The girl shrugs her shoulders. 01:54:31.620 --> 01:54:34.680 “You know how you got out here?  Remember anything from last night?” 01:54:35.340 --> 01:54:38.340 The little girl just eats her  soup and shakes her head. She   01:54:38.340 --> 01:54:41.760 doesn’t look particularly scared  or worried. Just a little confused. 01:54:42.420 --> 01:54:46.020 “Where are your parents? Do you have parents?” 01:54:46.020 --> 01:54:51.180 Again the little girl shrugs. The Rancher  sits back and folds his arms. He’s tried to   01:54:51.180 --> 01:54:54.960 call into town, but his phoneline’s gone  out in the blizzard. Not much to be done   01:54:54.960 --> 01:54:58.500 until this snow clears. He’s got a good  relationship with the police around here,   01:54:58.500 --> 01:55:01.320 if he explains the situation,  then it will all be okay. 01:55:02.160 --> 01:55:05.040 “What do you know? Can you  remember anything from last night?” 01:55:05.580 --> 01:55:10.080 “It was dark,” the girl slurps her  soup. “I was hungry, so hungry.   01:55:10.740 --> 01:55:12.720 Then I saw the light and I went towards that.” 01:55:13.260 --> 01:55:13.980 “My car.” 01:55:13.980 --> 01:55:18.420 “No. Well, yes. Later on, it was  your car. But before, it wasn’t.” 01:55:19.080 --> 01:55:21.480 “What was the light then? And where were you?” 01:55:22.020 --> 01:55:24.900 “I don’t know. It was just… the light.” 01:55:25.500 --> 01:55:30.840 Now he’s even more confused. But, try as he  might, the Rancher can’t figure any of it out and,   01:55:30.840 --> 01:55:34.740 try as she might, the little girl can’t  remember anything more precise than that. 01:55:34.740 --> 01:55:35.280 ** 01:55:35.280 --> 01:55:38.340 The pair of them hop into the car  and drive back out up the road that   01:55:38.340 --> 01:55:41.520 afternoon. The snow is piled so  high that the Rancher is having   01:55:41.520 --> 01:55:44.700 to get out twice as often as he did the  previous night to clear a track for them. 01:55:45.300 --> 01:55:48.900 He isn’t actually sure what he’s brought  her out here looking for. Clues maybe?   01:55:48.900 --> 01:55:54.240 He almost laughs at himself at the thought, but  that’s probably the best word for it. If he can   01:55:54.240 --> 01:55:58.740 figure out how she got here, then he can work on  understanding who she is and how to get her home. 01:55:59.460 --> 01:56:03.000 There’s the damage to the phone  line. One of the masts has collapsed,   01:56:03.000 --> 01:56:07.740 sagging heavily on the lines. That’s not  something he can fix on his own. No sir.   01:56:07.740 --> 01:56:11.280 Looks like he’ll have to wait for the snow  to melt before making any phone calls again.   01:56:11.940 --> 01:56:16.860 That could be in one week, that could be  in three months. He glances at the child   01:56:16.860 --> 01:56:20.820 sitting in the passenger seat. She’s just  staring out of the window in amazement,   01:56:20.820 --> 01:56:25.080 wrapped up in as many layers as he could put  on her. They may be stuck together for a while. 01:56:26.160 --> 01:56:30.660 A lurch! The pickup plunges dangerously to  the left. The Rancher slams on the breaks,   01:56:30.660 --> 01:56:35.040 and it comes to a stop just in time. A large  chunk of snow in front of them comes loose   01:56:35.040 --> 01:56:39.780 and slips off the side of the road. It tumbles  down into a gully that he hadn’t even spotted. 01:56:41.100 --> 01:56:45.480 With all this snow on the ground, he has no  frame of reference. Everything is just white. 01:56:46.260 --> 01:56:47.040 “Stay here.” 01:56:47.040 --> 01:56:50.940 The Rancher opens the door and climbs  out. He wishes Marybel was with him,   01:56:50.940 --> 01:56:53.460 but she’d wanted to stay home again. Poor dog,   01:56:53.460 --> 01:56:56.640 she must really be going through it if she  wasn’t even up for a ride in the pickup. 01:56:57.600 --> 01:57:01.560 Carefully as he can, testing every step  before making it, the Rancher creeps over   01:57:01.560 --> 01:57:06.480 to the edge of the gully. It’s bigger than  he thought, much bigger. It continues down,   01:57:06.480 --> 01:57:10.117 more and more sharply, for a few  hundred feet. All the way down into a… 01:57:10.117 --> 01:57:10.130 “Ah, no.” 01:57:10.130 --> 01:57:18.180 There’s a semi down there. A big rig, warped and  bent, lying on the rocks. Just a glance is enough   01:57:18.180 --> 01:57:24.000 to tell the Rancher it’s Jorge’s, but he just  keeps staring at it in disbelief. It can’t be. It… 01:57:24.660 --> 01:57:25.380 But it is. 01:57:25.380 --> 01:57:26.760 “Stay in the car.” 01:57:26.760 --> 01:57:30.780 The Rancher reaches past the little  girl and into the backseat. Grabbing   01:57:30.780 --> 01:57:33.660 a pair of crampons and some rope,  he straightens up and looks at the   01:57:33.660 --> 01:57:37.080 girl. She knows it’s serious, he  can see the concern on her face. 01:57:38.160 --> 01:57:40.680 “Stay in the car,” he repeats. 01:57:40.680 --> 01:57:45.480 By the time the Rancher makes it down to the  truck, his legs and back are killing him. All   01:57:45.480 --> 01:57:49.020 this work over the last 24 hours is going  to start taking its toll sooner or later,   01:57:49.020 --> 01:57:53.580 but some things have to be done. He  pauses by the semi. It’s on its side,   01:57:53.580 --> 01:57:56.100 he’ll have to climb up onto  it and try to open the door. 01:57:56.880 --> 01:57:58.380 Some things have to be done. 01:57:59.040 --> 01:58:03.600 He hoists himself up and manages to clamber  onto the metal door. It’s badly crumpled,   01:58:03.600 --> 01:58:07.500 and the window is smashed in. He doesn’t  fancy his chances of being able to get it   01:58:07.500 --> 01:58:11.160 open. One look through the window shows  him that he won’t want to do that anyway. 01:58:12.480 --> 01:58:17.640 Blood coats every inch of the inside of Jorge’s  truck. The cabin that the Rancher is so used to   01:58:17.640 --> 01:58:23.460 seeing and sitting in is almost unrecognizable.  Smashed glass is sprinkled across every surface,   01:58:23.460 --> 01:58:26.820 with a dark brownish red layer of  gore frozen into everything else. 01:58:27.540 --> 01:58:33.420 There, in the midst of it all, still wearing  a seatbelt, is Jorge’s body. It dangles like   01:58:33.420 --> 01:58:38.580 a limp carcass at a butcher shop. Like the cows he  hangs in the slaughterhouse. And like those cows,   01:58:38.580 --> 01:58:44.340 a large chunk of Jorge is missing. His  fat stomach is gone, not just cut open   01:58:44.340 --> 01:58:50.880 but gone. The tops of his thighs too and much  of his chest. So much of him is just missing,   01:58:50.880 --> 01:58:55.740 open arteries and lifeless nerves dangle in  place. That must have been a hell of a crash. 01:58:56.400 --> 01:59:00.660 The Rancher reaches over and pulls  Jorge’s cap down over his eyes. Not   01:59:00.660 --> 01:59:04.260 much else to be done right now. Ain’t no  way he can clean this mess up by himself. 01:59:04.920 --> 01:59:09.360 But as the Rancher climbs up the valley,  his mind starts to connect some dots. Dots   01:59:09.360 --> 01:59:13.260 that leave a sick feeling in his stomach.  He’s seen that much blood somewhere else,   01:59:13.260 --> 01:59:16.260 or rather on someone else, just last night. 01:59:16.980 --> 01:59:21.300 He slams the door to the pickup shut and  starts to drive back down the track. Since   01:59:21.300 --> 01:59:25.260 the snow’s stopped, all of the drifts that  he’d cleared earlier remain clear. It’s   01:59:25.260 --> 01:59:29.220 only a few minutes drive back down to the  farm. He doesn’t say a word the whole way,   01:59:29.220 --> 01:59:32.940 and neither does the little girl.  She clearly senses something’s up. 01:59:33.540 --> 01:59:36.300 The sick feeling in his stomach remains. He pulls   01:59:36.300 --> 01:59:39.360 up the handbrake and the two of them  sit in silence outside the farmhouse. 01:59:40.140 --> 01:59:42.420 “There was a truck in that  valley. Did you know that?” 01:59:42.420 --> 01:59:43.500 “Yes.” 01:59:43.500 --> 01:59:45.900 “Is that where you came from last night?” 01:59:46.560 --> 01:59:47.280 “I don’t remember.” 01:59:48.060 --> 01:59:53.520 “Was he…” the Rancher stops. “Jorge didn’t have  any kids. What were you doing in his truck?” 01:59:54.120 --> 01:59:54.780 “I don’t know.” 01:59:55.320 --> 01:59:57.780 “Did he… was he…” 01:59:57.780 --> 02:00:02.340 The Rancher can’t bring himself to accuse his best  friend of the words that almost left his mouth. 02:00:03.180 --> 02:00:06.540 “Do you think you might now remember  because something bad happened to you?” 02:00:07.200 --> 02:00:07.860 “I don’t know.” 02:00:07.860 --> 02:00:12.420 The Rancher closes his eyes for a  long moment. Silence fills the pickup. 02:00:13.080 --> 02:00:14.220 “Come on. Let’s get inside.” 02:00:14.940 --> 02:00:20.340 But inside wasn’t the safe haven he’d been  hoping for. Ma’s been throwing up. Not just   02:00:20.340 --> 02:00:24.900 once but a few times. She’s distressed, groaning  aimlessly for someone to come and save her.   02:00:25.500 --> 02:00:29.160 Marybel is pacing around the  room yelping and whining. The   02:00:29.160 --> 02:00:31.980 Rancher immediately goes upstairs  to get some rags to clean up with. 02:00:32.520 --> 02:00:34.200 Perfect timing. As usual. 02:00:34.860 --> 02:00:39.720 But he stops in his tracks when he comes back  down. His Ma’s stopped moaning. The little girl   02:00:39.720 --> 02:00:44.820 is kneeling by the armchair, holding the old  lady’s hand. The room is calm. The little girl   02:00:44.820 --> 02:00:49.320 gently places the frail hand back on the armrest  and comes over to take the rags from the Rancher.   02:00:50.040 --> 02:00:53.760 Returning to the old lady, the girl goes  about mopping her up as best she can. 02:00:53.760 --> 02:00:56.220 Marybel slumps back down on the floor. 02:00:56.220 --> 02:00:57.000 ** 02:00:57.000 --> 02:01:01.920 And that is how the four of them exist for the  next few days. Ma gets sicker steadily, but   02:01:01.920 --> 02:01:07.260 the little girl stays by her side all day long,  caring for her in every way. The Rancher’s glad of   02:01:07.260 --> 02:01:11.700 that. It gives him the time he needs to help his  cows outside. None of them are in a good shape. 02:01:11.700 --> 02:01:17.280 Whatever it is, they’re still getting thinner.  He feeds them all the grain they’d normally need,   02:01:17.280 --> 02:01:22.140 and then some, and they always finish it  off. Yet none of them are getting any fatter. 02:01:22.860 --> 02:01:26.400 The Rancher leans on the railing,  trusty dog by his side. His energy   02:01:26.400 --> 02:01:29.940 is starting to really lag behind what  he needs. The last couple of days,   02:01:29.940 --> 02:01:33.060 even though he hasn’t done all that  much, have totally taken it out of him. 02:01:33.780 --> 02:01:35.160 “What do you think it is, Marybel?” 02:01:35.160 --> 02:01:38.460 He looks down at his little  friend. She’s looking thinner,   02:01:38.460 --> 02:01:41.040 too, actually. But she’s been eating just fine… 02:01:41.820 --> 02:01:42.660 It hits him. 02:01:43.320 --> 02:01:48.600 Tapeworms. As soon as the word comes into  his head, it makes total sense. His cows,   02:01:48.600 --> 02:01:52.260 his entire herd by the looks of things,  have been riddled with tapeworms. 02:01:52.260 --> 02:01:53.940 “Ah hell.” 02:01:53.940 --> 02:01:56.640 He hasn’t got anywhere near the  amount of medicine needed to give   02:01:56.640 --> 02:02:00.060 some to all of them. Even if he did,  a lot of them are looking pretty far   02:02:00.060 --> 02:02:04.980 gone. The chance of reinfection would be  high. He needs supplies. He needs Jorge. 02:02:05.940 --> 02:02:09.480 Marybel whines softly next to him.  He knows what they have to do. 02:02:09.480 --> 02:02:10.380 ** 02:02:10.380 --> 02:02:14.640 Laying Marybel down carefully by the fire,  the Rancher administers the tapeworm medicine.   02:02:14.640 --> 02:02:19.560 For a few hours, they lie there together. He  strokes her side waiting for her to pass it.   02:02:19.560 --> 02:02:24.420 The little girl watches over his shoulder. His  Ma sits back in her chair, mumbling to herself. 02:02:25.080 --> 02:02:28.320 He hasn’t talked to the little  girl anymore about Jorge yet. He   02:02:28.320 --> 02:02:32.940 isn’t sure what there is to say. Maybe he  should ask if Jorge was sick. After all,   02:02:32.940 --> 02:02:36.900 the cows clearly have had these tapeworms  since before the other night. Jorge may   02:02:36.900 --> 02:02:40.200 have picked up contaminated meat  from him last time he came. Maybe… 02:02:40.200 --> 02:02:44.760 Marybel passes the worm on the rug. The smell…! 02:02:44.760 --> 02:02:51.060 The Rancher uses the tongs next to the fire  to pick the worm up. It’s long and pale. And   02:02:51.060 --> 02:02:56.220 dead. He tosses it into the fire and puts the  tongs in the flames for a bit to sterilize them.   02:02:56.760 --> 02:03:01.140 The worm sizzles and pops in the flames.  The sound makes his stomach crawl. 02:03:01.680 --> 02:03:04.800 The Rancher glances around and  sees the little girl staring   02:03:04.800 --> 02:03:09.480 at the tapeworm. He looks past the girl to  his Ma sitting in the chair. Her turn next. 02:03:09.480 --> 02:03:10.200 ** 02:03:10.200 --> 02:03:15.480 But as that night and the following morning  reveal, it’s too late. His Ma’s groans turn   02:03:15.480 --> 02:03:19.560 into cries of pain. She openly sobs  by the fire, clutching at her stomach.   02:03:20.100 --> 02:03:22.260 Every time the Rancher tries  to give her the medicine,   02:03:22.260 --> 02:03:27.360 she just vomits it back up. Each time she  vomits, there’s more and more blood mixed in. 02:03:28.920 --> 02:03:33.120 The little girl gets more and more upset. It’s  not fair on her to have to witness something   02:03:33.120 --> 02:03:37.380 this traumatic and disgusting, but there’s  nowhere else for her to go. She shouldn’t even   02:03:37.380 --> 02:03:41.220 be here at all. The fact that she is means  she has to help. That’s all there is to it. 02:03:41.760 --> 02:03:47.640 By sunrise, his Ma has passed away. There is  nasty red bruising all across her abdomen,   02:03:47.640 --> 02:03:52.560 which tells him she must have bled out internally  from this worm. He’d been too late to realize what   02:03:52.560 --> 02:03:57.840 was wrong. Too late with the cows and too late  with his Ma. He covers his Ma with a blanket   02:03:57.840 --> 02:04:01.920 and tells the little girl not to go and wash  her hands. He needs to check on the cattle. 02:04:02.520 --> 02:04:07.860 Sure enough, during the night, a handful  of them died too. The calves. They were the   02:04:07.860 --> 02:04:12.000 ones to go first whenever something like this  happened. Mother cows stood over their calves,   02:04:12.000 --> 02:04:14.280 licking their heads. Willing them to wake up. 02:04:14.820 --> 02:04:18.420 The Rancher drags each body out  to the back and burns them. He   02:04:18.420 --> 02:04:23.460 can’t risk any more contamination. As the  carcasses burn, he allows himself to cry. 02:04:23.460 --> 02:04:24.420 ** 02:04:24.420 --> 02:04:28.680 But when the Rancher comes back into the  house, it’s full of noise. A noise that takes   02:04:28.680 --> 02:04:34.560 his brain a long time to comprehend. Crying.  But his own. Not the little girl either. No,   02:04:34.560 --> 02:04:40.080 it was a new sound: it was a baby. A newborn  child screaming at the top of its lungs. 02:04:40.680 --> 02:04:42.600 The Rancher can’t believe what he’s looking at.   02:04:42.600 --> 02:04:46.800 The little girl is sitting by the hearth  with Marybel at her feet. In her arms,   02:04:46.800 --> 02:04:51.840 drenched in blood, is a baby. The girl  looks up at him and smiles sweetly. 02:04:52.800 --> 02:04:53.280 “It’s a boy.” 02:04:53.880 --> 02:04:58.560 Then she turns around to his Ma's body  under the blanket. A sickening red patch   02:04:58.560 --> 02:05:01.920 soaks through the fabric, right  over where her stomach would be. 02:05:02.640 --> 02:05:03.780 “What the hell happened here?” 02:05:04.560 --> 02:05:05.400 “I’ve got a little brother.” 02:05:06.300 --> 02:05:12.420 Securing and containing SCP-1003 has  proven… challenging. This is largely   02:05:12.420 --> 02:05:17.160 because the tapeworm that causes all of this  damage is virtually indistinguishable from   02:05:17.160 --> 02:05:21.180 echinococcus granulosus, the common variety  of tapeworm that causes hydatid disease. 02:05:21.840 --> 02:05:28.620 The tapeworm, designated SPC-1003-1, follows  the same lifecycle as other regular worms.   02:05:28.620 --> 02:05:34.020 Its eggs come into contact with an animal through  contaminated meat, saliva, or unclean surfaces and   02:05:34.020 --> 02:05:39.600 are ingested. Once inside the gut they grow and  latch onto the inside of the digestive tract where   02:05:39.600 --> 02:05:44.160 they feed on the nutrients of the food traveling  past them, steadily growing bigger and stronger.   02:05:44.760 --> 02:05:49.680 Once mature, they lay eggs which pass out in  the animal’s excrement to continue the process. 02:05:50.460 --> 02:05:55.080 Infections spread quickly, particularly in  unsanitary conditions amongst livestock,   02:05:55.080 --> 02:05:59.400 and can often be difficult to contain  as, by the time the symptoms - nausea,   02:05:59.400 --> 02:06:03.900 weight loss, fever - start to manifest in  the infected, the worms have likely already   02:06:03.900 --> 02:06:07.620 reproduced and have a new generation  growing in the guts of other animals. 02:06:07.620 --> 02:06:13.560 As far as the foundation is aware, SCP-1003  follows this normal pattern in all observed   02:06:13.560 --> 02:06:17.220 animals, except humans. When a human  ingests an egg from this tapeworm,   02:06:17.220 --> 02:06:19.800 a very different creature  starts to grow in their gut.   02:06:20.460 --> 02:06:26.460 Human embryos, with the same genetic code as the  tapeworm, begin to form. The rate of their growth   02:06:26.460 --> 02:06:31.680 is greatly accelerated, however. By just 8 weeks,  they are as mature as the typical 3-week-old   02:06:31.680 --> 02:06:36.840 neonate - or newborn child - although similar  in size to an 8-week-old embryo at 13-16cm. 02:06:37.800 --> 02:06:42.840 Many eggs usually enter this ‘fertilization’  period, but almost all of them die before   02:06:42.840 --> 02:06:47.340 having a chance to develop much beyond the early  stages. They stand the best chance of survival   02:06:47.340 --> 02:06:51.300 when buried in the hepatic tissue, where they  can absorb plenty of nutrients from their host.   02:06:51.900 --> 02:06:56.400 The host at this point usually starts  to experience mild symptoms. Lethargy,   02:06:56.400 --> 02:06:59.940 the occasional stomach cramp,  nothing particularly severe… yet. 02:06:59.940 --> 02:07:05.820 The embryos that survive soon develop rows  of temporary razor sharp. At this point,   02:07:05.820 --> 02:07:08.880 passively absorbing nutrients  is no longer enough for them.   02:07:09.540 --> 02:07:14.520 They bury their teeth into the soft tissue  surrounding them and begin to eat. Once they   02:07:14.520 --> 02:07:18.900 enter this stage, their rate of growth increases  exponentially, the more flesh they consume. 02:07:19.500 --> 02:07:24.540 Eventually burrowing out into the world, the  Tapeworm Child is born drenched in blood. 02:07:25.200 --> 02:07:29.580 The size and apparent age of the child that  emerges from the corpse are determined by the   02:07:29.580 --> 02:07:33.960 size of the person they consume. For example  the child eating its way out of the Rancher’s   02:07:33.960 --> 02:07:38.100 Ma appeared to be only a 10-month-old  child as there was very little of the   02:07:38.100 --> 02:07:43.020 frail old woman for it to eat. By contrast  the little girl who emerged from Jorge’s gut   02:07:43.020 --> 02:07:47.280 had plenty of fat to feast on and so was  able to grow to the size of a 9-year-old. 02:07:47.280 --> 02:07:52.620 Once the child emerges, the teeth that they’d  used to eat their way out quickly come loose and   02:07:52.620 --> 02:07:57.360 are replaced by regular human teeth. The children  themselves have no memory at all of where they’ve   02:07:57.360 --> 02:08:01.980 come from or what they are. They have the same  motor and linguistic skills that a regular child   02:08:01.980 --> 02:08:07.080 would possess at their age. Nothing, aside from  their DNA, marks them out as being any different   02:08:07.080 --> 02:08:11.220 from the children around them. Blissfully  ignorant, just like the children around them. 02:08:11.220 --> 02:08:16.020 It is theorized that many of these children end  up in orphanages. With no birth certificates   02:08:16.020 --> 02:08:20.400 or identifiable parents, they fall through  the gaps in the system, quickly lost to the   02:08:20.400 --> 02:08:24.660 world. The only way to really track them at  all is to follow the infections they cause. 02:08:25.200 --> 02:08:30.540 You see, these Tapeworm Children have one final  curse they must live with. Their bodily fluids,   02:08:30.540 --> 02:08:35.160 their saliva, and sweat, contain the same  tapeworm protoscolex that will develop into   02:08:35.160 --> 02:08:41.880 SCP-1003-1 as soon as it is ingested by another  creature. Making the cycle start all over again.   02:08:42.660 --> 02:08:46.740 If you want to track down a Tapeworm  Child, and I highly advise that you don’t,   02:08:46.740 --> 02:08:51.540 all you have to do is follow the trail of  nasty stomach infections, internal bleeding,   02:08:51.540 --> 02:08:57.180 and freak pregnancies amongst the outcasts of  society. It, unfortunately, will not take long. 02:08:57.180 --> 02:09:02.400 There are currently ten instances  of SCP-1003-2 in containment. The   02:09:02.400 --> 02:09:06.960 children live in Bio-Research Area 13  under strict supervision. Researchers   02:09:06.960 --> 02:09:10.800 are only permitted to enter their cells  whilst wearing full-body biohazard suits,   02:09:10.800 --> 02:09:14.640 but first must have Level 4 security  clearance, and must have written permission,   02:09:14.640 --> 02:09:20.040 and can only enter with specific research goals  agreed. All staff are regularly tested for the   02:09:20.040 --> 02:09:24.480 presence of any kind of tapeworms in their system.  No other animals are permitted in this facility. 02:09:25.680 --> 02:09:30.060 It’s never a nice feeling waking up lying  amongst shards of broken glass in the middle   02:09:30.060 --> 02:09:35.580 of the road. The dawn sky above the Biker  looks almost peaceful; it's as if nothing had   02:09:35.580 --> 02:09:40.620 gone wrong at all, as if everything is right  in the world. But slowly, the throbbing pain   02:09:40.620 --> 02:09:45.540 washes into his helmeted head, and the sound of  the traffic surrounding him rises in his ears. 02:09:46.140 --> 02:09:50.940 A sea of onlookers gathers around as the cars  blast their horns. Through the cracked visor   02:09:50.940 --> 02:09:54.960 of his helmet, the biker can see concerned  faces, people calling emergency services,   02:09:54.960 --> 02:10:00.540 and a few women crying. His paramedic bike  is toppled on its side about 40 feet from   02:10:00.540 --> 02:10:05.340 him. There are long black tire marks running up  to where it lies, smoking slightly on its side. 02:10:06.000 --> 02:10:11.460 With a groan, the Biker sits himself up and  shakes his head; bad idea. Looking around,   02:10:11.460 --> 02:10:16.320 though, it seems he's the only one injured.  His bike had gone into the front of a car   02:10:16.320 --> 02:10:20.400 at the junction. The occupants of the car  stand by nervously, offering him whatever   02:10:20.400 --> 02:10:24.960 little assistance they can. But there's no  time for that, the Biker suddenly realizes! 02:10:25.680 --> 02:10:30.900 He looks down at his watch frantically.  It's 12:03pm. There's not enough time. He   02:10:30.900 --> 02:10:35.460 rushes over to the bike as fast as he can and  lifts it back upright. A couple of onlookers   02:10:35.460 --> 02:10:39.420 try to grab his arms, trying to sit down  to rest, but he can’t. There’s no time! 02:10:40.200 --> 02:10:44.760 He has three minutes to get to Saint Mary's  Hospital in Central London. Right now,   02:10:44.760 --> 02:10:48.120 he's at the junction outside Baker  Street station. He can still make it   02:10:48.120 --> 02:10:53.100 on time if he gets on his bike and goes now. The biker swings his leg onto the bike and   02:10:53.100 --> 02:10:57.300 kicks it into life. He takes a deep gulp and  looks over his shoulder at the box on the back   02:10:57.300 --> 02:11:02.580 of his bike. He can't risk opening it here;  the damage may already be done. But if the   02:11:02.580 --> 02:11:07.800 heart is still alive in that box, it is the  only chance that a 10-year-old boy has for a   02:11:07.800 --> 02:11:13.140 normal life. If he doesn't get to the hospital in  the next three minutes, his life could be over.  02:11:13.140 --> 02:11:18.660 The school children stand in a circle, looking  down at the dead bird with a morbid fascination. 02:11:19.440 --> 02:11:20.520 "Do you think it's alive?" 02:11:21.120 --> 02:11:22.140 "Nah, no way." 02:11:22.680 --> 02:11:26.700 The Boy in the middle of the group goes to pick  up a stick. With an air of false confidence,   02:11:26.700 --> 02:11:32.580 he walks up to the bird and gives it a prod.  It makes a squelching noise. The other kids   02:11:32.580 --> 02:11:37.440 all reel in shock, making retching noises and  laughing about it. It's only when their teacher   02:11:37.440 --> 02:11:41.640 comes out to call them inside that the group  disperses, leaving the animal carcass alone,   02:11:41.640 --> 02:11:45.660 sitting at the edge of the playground,  outside the view of boring adults. 02:11:45.660 --> 02:11:51.120 Each passing day, the kids wander over to the  bird's body. It's kind of the best biology   02:11:51.120 --> 02:11:58.080 lesson they've ever had as they watch the animal  slowly decompose. At first, its body just shrinks,   02:11:58.080 --> 02:12:03.000 goes flat almost. The feathers start  falling out, and it loses all of its color.   02:12:03.720 --> 02:12:07.800 Then it starts to get puffy; different  parts of its flesh bulge out in weird   02:12:07.800 --> 02:12:11.700 places, as if they're being inflated like a  balloon animal at someone’s birthday party. 02:12:11.700 --> 02:12:17.520 But then the maggots come. There are only a  couple of tiny white crawling wrigglers in   02:12:17.520 --> 02:12:22.140 the bird's body at first, but a couple of  days after that, it's infested with them.   02:12:22.800 --> 02:12:25.080 The creepy crawlies wriggle all over the body. 02:12:25.860 --> 02:12:30.120 But as the Boy looks down at the dead  bird, he spots something very peculiar,   02:12:30.120 --> 02:12:34.740 something they haven't seen in a biology  class before. There's a red maggot,   02:12:34.740 --> 02:12:39.840 wriggling and crawling in amongst the rest of the  creepy crawlies. It squirms like the rest of them,   02:12:39.840 --> 02:12:44.280 but even over the course of the school day, it  quickly grows larger than any of the others. 02:12:45.240 --> 02:12:47.280 What do you think it is? the Boy stares at it. 02:12:47.280 --> 02:12:48.900 It looks like a worm. 02:12:49.560 --> 02:12:53.820 And a worm is exactly what it was.  The next day, when the kids return,   02:12:53.820 --> 02:12:58.860 they see that the red maggot is now much larger  than any of the others feasting on the bird.   02:12:59.580 --> 02:13:04.920 With a slightly translucent body, cherry-red  coloring, and small white speckles on its skin,   02:13:04.920 --> 02:13:10.620 it looks unlike anything they've ever seen before.  Actually, not unlike anything they've seen before,   02:13:10.620 --> 02:13:15.600 it looks exactly like something that all  the kids recognize very well. In fact,   02:13:15.600 --> 02:13:19.260 one of the kids has a bag of them  right now that he's chewing on. 02:13:19.920 --> 02:13:21.180 A candied worm. 02:13:21.840 --> 02:13:26.160 The kids stare in curiosity, first at the bag  of candy that their friend has in his hand,   02:13:26.160 --> 02:13:31.380 and then down at the worm slowly eating  its way through the decomposing bird. As   02:13:31.380 --> 02:13:36.060 far as their eyes can tell, the two  things are exactly the same. Except,   02:13:36.060 --> 02:13:39.000 of course, that the one eating  the bird seems to be alive. 02:13:39.900 --> 02:13:44.100 Kids being kids, the next thing that  happened was sort of inevitable. 02:13:44.100 --> 02:13:47.040 One dares the Boy to eat it. 02:13:47.040 --> 02:13:50.940 He almost retches in disgust. There  is no way he’s even touching it. 02:13:50.940 --> 02:13:55.500 And then… Another one of the children throws  down the poison chalice and dares him. 02:13:56.100 --> 02:14:01.020 The Boy stands there nervously. He knows that  he is not allowed to eat worms. That had been a   02:14:01.020 --> 02:14:06.000 lesson ingrained in him from a very young age.  But his mother isn't here right now, and this   02:14:06.000 --> 02:14:11.220 thing doesn't look like any kind of worm that  he's seen before. It almost looks a bit tasty. 02:14:11.820 --> 02:14:13.500 In exchange for eating the worm,   02:14:13.500 --> 02:14:16.620 another one of the children promises  he’ll give him five English pounds. 02:14:17.280 --> 02:14:21.300 The kids around the circle gasp. That's  a lot of money. None of them have even   02:14:21.300 --> 02:14:24.840 got two pounds on them, let alone  five. Think of all the sweets you   02:14:24.840 --> 02:14:29.040 could buy with that kinda money. But the  Boy is adamant. He puffs his chest out,   02:14:29.040 --> 02:14:34.140 he stands up tall, and he nods firmly.  Five pounds, or he wouldn't do it. 02:14:34.740 --> 02:14:38.820 After some intense schoolyard  debate, the deal is sealed. 02:14:39.900 --> 02:14:44.640 As the boy lies in bed that night, staring at  the ceiling and grumbling, he knows that he   02:14:44.640 --> 02:14:48.660 is not happy about what his friends have done to  him today. He is going to get them back for this. 02:14:49.320 --> 02:14:54.780 Only he's getting a bit of a tummy ache. "Getting"  is the wrong word. He's had a tummy ache for most   02:14:54.780 --> 02:15:00.600 of the evening. What he's experiencing now is  heartburn. It feels as if something is crawling   02:15:00.600 --> 02:15:05.100 in his chest. The Boy just ignores it. It's  probably just his worries about the worm inside   02:15:05.100 --> 02:15:09.300 of him. He chewed it up really well; there's  no way that it's still alive in him. Surely. 02:15:10.020 --> 02:15:14.220 His uneasy sleep is punctuated by  rotten dreams. Dreams in which he   02:15:14.220 --> 02:15:18.000 finds himself lying on the floor, and his  playground lying on the ground at school,   02:15:18.000 --> 02:15:23.520 unable to move as people gather around him to poke  him with a stick. He feels his skin covered with   02:15:23.520 --> 02:15:29.340 maggots - They even crawl across the surface of  his eyes. In his chest, there's a searing pain. 02:15:29.340 --> 02:15:34.380 The Boy wakes with a start as he feels his  heart pounding, thudding against his ribs.   02:15:34.380 --> 02:15:40.140 It’s agonizing. Adrenaline courses through him as  he sweats off his face. Crying out for his mom,   02:15:40.140 --> 02:15:44.160 the boy lies there in bed, feeling  the heart attacking his system.  02:15:44.880 --> 02:15:48.420 When you decide to become a surgeon, you  have to accept that you're not going to   02:15:48.420 --> 02:15:52.740 get very much sleep most nights. In fact,  it's more than that. You have to not only   02:15:52.740 --> 02:15:56.160 accept that you won't get much sleep  most nights, but you also have to be   02:15:56.160 --> 02:15:59.940 at your absolute best when you've had no  sleep, and it's the middle of the night. 02:15:59.940 --> 02:16:05.160 With over 40 years under his belt, the Surgeon  doesn't even need coffee anymore, even when the   02:16:05.160 --> 02:16:09.960 junior doctor offers it to him as he strides  toward the operating theater. Instead, he asks   02:16:09.960 --> 02:16:14.040 them to fill him in on the situation - who is his  patient, what's going on, what needs to be done? 02:16:14.880 --> 02:16:19.260 The doctor accompanying him reads the notes in  a calm but hurried voice. They haven't got much   02:16:19.260 --> 02:16:24.360 time on this one at all. At any moment, the  Boy's heart could give out. The Surgeon asks   02:16:24.360 --> 02:16:28.860 what's wrong with the organ, and the doctor looks  at his notes in apparent confusion. Apparently,   02:16:28.860 --> 02:16:34.080 over the course of the night, the Soy has  suffered a 72% reduction in the mass of his heart. 02:16:34.800 --> 02:16:38.580 The Surgeon stops just on the other side  of the door. He doesn't want to have this   02:16:38.580 --> 02:16:42.300 conversation in front of his whole team.  He whispers to the doctor in a terse voice. 02:16:42.300 --> 02:16:45.660 "What kind of infection does  this boy have that his heart   02:16:45.660 --> 02:16:47.580 has undergone that rapid of a deterioration?" 02:16:47.580 --> 02:16:52.620 "It's not an infection at all, sir.  It's... well, sir, it's a worm." 02:16:52.620 --> 02:16:57.780 The doctor holds out a sheet to him. The Surgeon  takes it from him. He looks down at the X-ray to   02:16:57.780 --> 02:17:02.340 see a scan of the boy's chest cavity. It  doesn't look so bad - there is a hole in   02:17:02.340 --> 02:17:05.160 the heart for sure, but the Surgeon  has encountered worse in his career. 02:17:05.820 --> 02:17:07.920 "This was taken when the boy was first admitted." 02:17:07.920 --> 02:17:10.740 The doctor hands the Surgeon a second X-ray. 02:17:10.740 --> 02:17:13.740 "And this was taken just one hour later." 02:17:13.740 --> 02:17:19.740 It is barely recognizable as a human heart. There  seems to be a mass growing in the cavity that was   02:17:19.740 --> 02:17:25.439 left by the heart. And there, infecting all  of the boy's organs, was the shape of a worm.  02:17:26.100 --> 02:17:29.340 The Biker weaves his way through  the traffic down Marylebone Road,   02:17:29.340 --> 02:17:33.780 eyes darting frantically in all directions.  He may have a concussion, and he may not be   02:17:33.780 --> 02:17:38.340 allowed to drive at all right now. In fact,  he knows he definitely isn't. But he is under   02:17:38.340 --> 02:17:43.020 strict instructions: this heart needs to get  to St Mary's Hospital before it's too late. 02:17:43.020 --> 02:17:47.100 The bike careens around the corner and  skids to a halt outside the emergency   02:17:47.100 --> 02:17:50.940 doors. An ambulance team in front of him  is trying to help an old lady out of the   02:17:50.939 --> 02:17:54.359 back of their vehicle, but the Biker  doesn't have time for them. He grabs   02:17:54.359 --> 02:17:57.299 the organ box from the back of the  bike and races into the building. 02:17:58.140 --> 02:18:02.220 It takes all of his remaining concentration to  navigate through the maze of hospital corridors   02:18:02.220 --> 02:18:07.020 on his way to the operating theater. On a better  day, he would be able to do this with no problem,   02:18:07.020 --> 02:18:11.100 but with his head injury, he can see the  lights starting to blur all around him. 02:18:12.780 --> 02:18:18.780 Ward 6, Ward 7, Ward 7A, Ward 7B. He runs  as fast as his heavy boots will allow him,   02:18:18.780 --> 02:18:22.500 feeling that energy draining from his  system. He can't look at his watch;   02:18:22.500 --> 02:18:25.500 he can't check the time. He  just has to find this Boy. 02:18:26.220 --> 02:18:29.700 Operating Theatre. There, right up ahead  of him, just a couple of hundred feet. 02:18:30.300 --> 02:18:33.300 There's a doctor waiting outside the  door who looks up at the sound of his   02:18:33.300 --> 02:18:36.780 footsteps. The Biker rips his helmet  off and holds out the box with the   02:18:36.780 --> 02:18:40.979 heart in it, panting heavily. It's  the moment of truth: is he too late? 02:18:40.979 --> 02:18:46.259 The doctor looks shell-shocked, not at the  biker's arrival but clearly at something else   02:18:46.260 --> 02:18:51.900 she's just seen. The man starts to explain but  runs out of words and instead beckons the Biker   02:18:51.899 --> 02:18:56.219 to follow him into the observation room. There,  the two of them stand looking through the glass   02:18:56.220 --> 02:18:59.821 at the little boy lying on the operating  table with the surgeon standing over him. 02:19:00.479 --> 02:19:03.839 There’s something in the air.  The Biker sniffs, confused. 02:19:04.439 --> 02:19:09.359 “Can anyone else smell sugar?” Next time you open a packet of candied worms,   02:19:09.359 --> 02:19:13.920 take a second to look through the little  creepy crawlies in the bag. Perhaps poke   02:19:13.920 --> 02:19:17.940 a couple of them just to see if any of them  are moving. You can never be too careful. 02:19:18.660 --> 02:19:22.380 If you had told the parents of that young boy  on the night when their son woke up with heart   02:19:22.380 --> 02:19:26.820 palpitations telling stories of eating a worm  at school that the only health concerns he   02:19:26.820 --> 02:19:30.840 would have going forward were mild diabetes  and a slightly raised level of blood sugar,   02:19:30.840 --> 02:19:33.060 I'm sure they would have been thrilled to hear it. 02:19:33.060 --> 02:19:40.560 You see, SCP-839, commonly referred to within the  Foundation as "candied worms", is much scarier on   02:19:40.560 --> 02:19:46.081 the surface than it is underneath. Not only  does this SCP resemble your usual candy worm,   02:19:46.080 --> 02:19:50.760 but its body is actually composed of sugar  flavorings and colorings roughly equivalent   02:19:50.760 --> 02:19:54.960 to what you would find in most convenience  store candy aisles. Each instance even has   02:19:54.960 --> 02:19:58.560 a small raised bit of writing near the  tail specifying which flavor it is. 02:19:58.560 --> 02:20:03.420 While the origins of these worms are yet to  be determined, cases have sprung up across   02:20:03.420 --> 02:20:08.700 much of the Western world, with higher numbers  reported in areas with higher levels of diabetes.   02:20:08.700 --> 02:20:12.479 There seems to be a parallel between  high sugar diets and the presence of   02:20:12.479 --> 02:20:18.059 SCP-839. Whether they are of man-made or  other origins is yet to be determined. 02:20:18.060 --> 02:20:22.860 That is not to say the SCP-839 cannot  survive outside of human populations.   02:20:22.859 --> 02:20:28.439 This SCP in the wild primarily feeds  on decomposing organic matter and is   02:20:28.439 --> 02:20:31.500 capable of sustaining itself  on a purely vegetarian diet. 02:20:32.220 --> 02:20:38.880 However, when ingested into the human body,  SCP-839 will target specific organs and burrow   02:20:38.880 --> 02:20:43.980 its way towards them. The organ in question  depends on which color candied worm the SCP   02:20:43.979 --> 02:20:49.439 instance is. For example, the red cherry-flavored  candied worms will burrow towards the heart and   02:20:49.439 --> 02:20:54.299 consume that, while the blue raspberry ones  will instead feed on the human's kidney. 02:20:54.300 --> 02:21:00.840 One would expect the health consequences of this  feeding to be severe. However, as the SCP feeds,   02:21:00.840 --> 02:21:05.880 it will also change its own shape and chemical  composition until the worm itself becomes a   02:21:05.880 --> 02:21:11.040 substitute organ for the one that it is  consuming. However, this substitute organ   02:21:11.040 --> 02:21:15.479 is not a perfect replacement, as other health  consequences are derived from its presence. 02:21:16.140 --> 02:21:22.920 For example, the green apple-flavored SCP-839-3  targets the eye and replaces it with a jelly-green   02:21:22.920 --> 02:21:28.260 version of the human eye. While this eye is  mostly capable of sight, subjects have reported   02:21:28.260 --> 02:21:33.240 mild hallucinations and blurriness of vision, as  well as a greenish tint to how they see the world. 02:21:33.899 --> 02:21:38.099 Fortunately for the Foundation,  SCP-839 reproduces sexually,   02:21:38.100 --> 02:21:43.560 meaning that individual instances require a  partner in order to have offspring. This has   02:21:43.560 --> 02:21:47.820 made containment of this SCP much more  feasible, though they are a relatively   02:21:47.819 --> 02:21:52.259 low-priority entity in the broader scope of  the Foundation. There are no known cases as   02:21:52.260 --> 02:21:57.300 of yet of any SCP-839 infections leading  to death or serious chronic illness. 02:21:57.960 --> 02:22:03.960 Therefore, any instances that are captured by the  Foundation are sent to Storage Site 839-1, where   02:22:03.960 --> 02:22:09.359 they are kept in a glass housing and regularly  fed a diet of plant matter each day. Here, their   02:22:09.359 --> 02:22:13.859 reproductive activity can be closely monitored  and controlled based on what research is needed. 02:22:14.460 --> 02:22:19.560 Those infected with SCP-839 instances can  continue to live long and healthy lives,   02:22:19.560 --> 02:22:23.701 with only minor health complications  arising. Therefore, the Foundation is   02:22:23.700 --> 02:22:27.179 comfortable allowing a reasonable number  of cases to go unexamined in the world. 02:22:27.180 --> 02:22:33.241 So like I said, for next time you open up a bag  of candied worms, maybe just give them a quick   02:22:33.240 --> 02:22:38.760 poke. You could be saving yourself a trip to the  hospital and a lifetime dependence on insulin. 02:22:38.760 --> 02:22:42.960 The boy and his father have spent the entire morning cleaning out the basement of the boy’s 02:22:42.960 --> 02:22:45.899 grandfather, and the boy is absolutely exhausted. 02:22:46.560 --> 02:22:51.300 After yet another trip up those rickety cellar steps, the boy collapses onto the old living 02:22:51.300 --> 02:22:51.840 room couch. 02:22:51.840 --> 02:22:56.940 He can still hear his father puttering around downstairs, yelping and gasping in surprise 02:22:56.939 --> 02:23:00.599 every time he finds some memento of his childhood stashed among the debris. 02:23:00.600 --> 02:23:02.520 The boy sighs in annoyance. 02:23:02.520 --> 02:23:06.480 He doesn’t really know his grandfather, so he doesn’t feel any sense of loss as 02:23:06.479 --> 02:23:08.459 they tear through the boxes and bags in the basement. 02:23:08.460 --> 02:23:11.880 His father, however, insisted that the boy come along. 02:23:11.880 --> 02:23:15.960 It’ll be good for us to spend some time together, he said, and the boy suspects that 02:23:15.960 --> 02:23:19.260 his father is trying to deal with his own guilt about his strained relationship with 02:23:19.260 --> 02:23:20.100 the boy’s grandfather. 02:23:20.100 --> 02:23:24.300 Perhaps he hopes that a day of father-son bonding is just what they need to make sure 02:23:24.300 --> 02:23:26.940 that they don’t grow apart as his father did with his grandfather. 02:23:27.600 --> 02:23:32.161 The boy, however, doesn’t think that cleaning out a musty old basement should qualify as 02:23:32.160 --> 02:23:33.720 effective father-son bonding. 02:23:33.720 --> 02:23:35.040 It’s super boring! 02:23:35.040 --> 02:23:39.720 Worse, it turns out that the boy’s deceased grandfather was an absolute hoarder who couldn’t 02:23:39.720 --> 02:23:43.560 throw anything away, so the house is filled with all sorts of worthless garbage. 02:23:44.220 --> 02:23:45.241 The boy groans. 02:23:45.240 --> 02:23:49.620 His feet ache from traipsing all those stairs, and his back aches from carrying boxes. 02:23:49.620 --> 02:23:51.540 He thinks that he deserves a little break. 02:23:52.920 --> 02:23:56.700 He pulls a small handheld gaming console from the pocket of his hoodie and turns it on. 02:23:56.700 --> 02:24:00.479 I’ll just play for a couple minutes, he thinks to himself, then I’ll go help dad 02:24:00.479 --> 02:24:00.780 some more. 02:24:00.780 --> 02:24:02.759 He won’t mind if I take a short break to recover. 02:24:02.760 --> 02:24:06.960 The boy is sitting on the battered couch in the living room, playing the latest game on 02:24:06.960 --> 02:24:11.160 his handheld game console, when his father lurches into the room, carrying a gigantic 02:24:11.160 --> 02:24:12.780 white plastic box in his arms. 02:24:12.780 --> 02:24:16.500 “Check it out, sport!” says his dad, a wide grin on his face. 02:24:16.500 --> 02:24:18.060 “Look what I just found in the basement!” 02:24:18.780 --> 02:24:23.219 The boy briefly looks up from his game, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes at his father’s 02:24:23.220 --> 02:24:24.300 annoying enthusiasm. 02:24:25.140 --> 02:24:27.840 His father is always getting excited for the dumbest things! 02:24:27.840 --> 02:24:29.340 As for that white box? 02:24:29.340 --> 02:24:31.260 The boy has never seen anything like it. 02:24:32.040 --> 02:24:33.359 “It’s a Sega Dreamcast!” 02:24:33.359 --> 02:24:37.920 the father says as he sets the white box on the living room floor and starts to untangle 02:24:37.920 --> 02:24:40.140 the mass of wires protruding from the back of the object. 02:24:40.140 --> 02:24:42.960 “This was my favorite video game system when I was a kid! 02:24:42.960 --> 02:24:45.180 I guess your grandfather just couldn’t throw it away.” 02:24:45.840 --> 02:24:49.920 “What else is new,” mutters the boy under his breath, but he bites his tongue as he 02:24:49.920 --> 02:24:53.040 watches his father studiously pick apart the knots in the tangled wires. 02:24:53.040 --> 02:24:56.939 Obviously, this hunk of junk has big sentimental value for his Dad. 02:24:56.939 --> 02:25:01.259 Reluctantly, he slides off the couch and takes a seat next to his father on the floor, and 02:25:01.260 --> 02:25:03.300 together the two of them set up the Dreamcast. 02:25:04.140 --> 02:25:05.400 “This had all the best games!” 02:25:05.399 --> 02:25:06.660 continues his father. 02:25:06.660 --> 02:25:07.920 “Soul Caliber! 02:25:07.920 --> 02:25:09.060 Sega vs Capcom! 02:25:09.060 --> 02:25:10.380 Oh, you’re going to love these!” 02:25:10.380 --> 02:25:13.260 After a few minutes, his father has the wires  02:25:13.260 --> 02:25:15.420 plugged into the television  and the hand controllers 02:25:15.420 --> 02:25:15.600 ready. 02:25:15.600 --> 02:25:17.989 He nudges his son in the side with his elbow. 02:25:17.989 --> 02:25:19.020 “What do you say, champ? 02:25:19.020 --> 02:25:22.440 You ready to go mano a mano against your old man with some real video games? 02:25:23.040 --> 02:25:25.439 I’m about to school you in what REAL games are like. 02:25:25.439 --> 02:25:26.460 None of this silly… 02:25:26.460 --> 02:25:27.780 what is it called?... 02:25:27.780 --> 02:25:29.099 Amongus junk like you play today!” 02:25:29.939 --> 02:25:34.200 “It’s not called Amongus, Dad,” mutters the boy under his breath but his father is 02:25:34.200 --> 02:25:35.939 already distracted pulling out old games. 02:25:35.939 --> 02:25:41.160 His father holds up a CD clamshell and pries it open, revealing a stack of silvery discs. 02:25:41.160 --> 02:25:42.240 “And look at this! 02:25:42.240 --> 02:25:43.380 All my old games too!” 02:25:44.040 --> 02:25:47.939 The boy tries to contain his boredom as his father rattles off a list of his favorite 02:25:47.939 --> 02:25:50.580 old video games, none of which are familiar to the boy. 02:25:50.580 --> 02:25:54.240 But eventually, his father reaches one disc that isn’t familiar. 02:25:54.240 --> 02:25:55.800 “Eurhythmics?” 02:25:55.800 --> 02:25:58.560 he says, squinting at the title embossed across the disc. 02:25:59.280 --> 02:26:00.300 “I don’t remember this one. 02:26:00.300 --> 02:26:02.820 I wonder if your grandfather got it after I moved out…” 02:26:02.819 --> 02:26:06.179 The father pauses as if overcome with emotion. 02:26:06.180 --> 02:26:08.580 The boy can imagine what his father is thinking. 02:26:08.580 --> 02:26:12.960 Did his grandfather buy this disc knowing how much his father loved his Dreamcast video 02:26:12.960 --> 02:26:17.100 games and hoping that maybe it could serve as a reconciliation present between them? 02:26:17.100 --> 02:26:21.420 That’s exactly the sort of dopey sentimental thing that his dad would think after spending 02:26:21.420 --> 02:26:24.840 all morning going through his grandfather’s junk and reminiscing about what could have 02:26:24.840 --> 02:26:25.020 been. 02:26:25.020 --> 02:26:29.820 “Uh, it looks like… it’s some sort of dance game?” prompts the boy, hoping to 02:26:29.819 --> 02:26:33.420 get his father to focus more on the game than his feelings of nostalgia and loss. 02:26:33.420 --> 02:26:35.399 “Oh, right, right,” says the father. 02:26:35.399 --> 02:26:38.639 “I wonder why grandpa had this when he didn’t have a dance mat to connect? 02:26:38.640 --> 02:26:42.360 Maybe you just have to hit the control buttons in rhythm… hmmm..” 02:26:42.359 --> 02:26:46.559 He holds it up, the reflective disc shining brightly in the light of the overhead lamp, 02:26:46.560 --> 02:26:49.260 and the boy stares at the silvery disc in confusion. 02:26:49.260 --> 02:26:53.640 He’s seen pictures of CD-ROM discs before, in old catalogs or even movies. 02:26:53.640 --> 02:26:55.680 But he’s never seen one in real life. 02:26:55.680 --> 02:26:57.840 Who even uses discs like that anymore? 02:26:57.840 --> 02:27:00.780 Everything’s just downloadable from the Internet these days! 02:27:00.780 --> 02:27:04.080 “What is that, anyway?” asks the boy “A CD?” 02:27:04.080 --> 02:27:08.280 “This is not a CD,” says his father, a slight edge of annoyance in his voice. 02:27:08.280 --> 02:27:10.139 The boy rolls his eyes. 02:27:10.140 --> 02:27:14.460 His father is always acting like he should be familiar with the outdated dinosaur technology 02:27:14.460 --> 02:27:15.540 of his father’s youth. 02:27:15.540 --> 02:27:19.800 When will his dad learn, just because this junk as important to his father when he was 02:27:19.800 --> 02:27:22.620 growing up doesn’t mean that it’s still important to the next generation! 02:27:22.620 --> 02:27:26.819 The boy holds his tongue, knowing that his father will probably start to sulk if he’s 02:27:26.819 --> 02:27:31.559 reminded that time marches on… and that he’s no longer as hip and with-it as he 02:27:31.560 --> 02:27:32.460 likes to think he is. 02:27:32.460 --> 02:27:36.960 “It’s a GD-ROM,” says his father as if those words are supposed to mean anything 02:27:36.960 --> 02:27:37.500 to the boy. 02:27:37.500 --> 02:27:40.260 “It stands for Gigabyte Disc Read-Only Memory.” 02:27:40.260 --> 02:27:44.640 The boy has no clue what that means, and he hopes that his father isn’t about to start 02:27:44.640 --> 02:27:48.540 a lecture on the different kinds of obsolete video game tech that he’s suddenly decided 02:27:48.540 --> 02:27:50.580 are so vitally important for his son to know about. 02:27:50.580 --> 02:27:55.559 Luckily, his dad doesn’t launch into a long-winded talk; he’s too curious about what’s on 02:27:55.560 --> 02:27:57.781 this mysterious disc to bother about that now. 02:27:57.780 --> 02:28:02.580 The father shoves the disc into the Dreamcast and settles down on the floor, gripping the 02:28:02.580 --> 02:28:03.660 controller with both hands. 02:28:03.660 --> 02:28:08.160 He’s as excited as a kid in a candy store as he waits for the screen to boot up; the 02:28:08.160 --> 02:28:11.280 boy can’t remember the last time that his father has been so eager for anything. 02:28:12.120 --> 02:28:16.080 But his excitement is short-lived as the first loading screen boots up. 02:28:16.080 --> 02:28:18.420 A cheerful, happy melody plays from the   02:28:18.420 --> 02:28:19.260 Dreamcast’s speakers. 02:28:19.260 --> 02:28:24.480 The game title, Eurhythmics, flashes on screen with options for one or two players listed 02:28:24.479 --> 02:28:24.959 below it. 02:28:25.680 --> 02:28:27.720 The father clicks over to “two players,”  02:28:27.720 --> 02:28:30.120 nodding for his son to pick  up the other controller. 02:28:30.120 --> 02:28:31.680 The boy does as he's told. 02:28:31.680 --> 02:28:34.201 He can’t imagine that this game is going to be any good. 02:28:34.200 --> 02:28:35.519 How old is it anyway? 02:28:35.520 --> 02:28:40.020 It’s from when his dad was a kid, so that’s all the way back in the 90s… this game might 02:28:40.020 --> 02:28:42.000 as well be 100 years old for all the boy cares! 02:28:42.600 --> 02:28:46.440 Immediately when the father chooses “two players,” the screen starts to glitch. 02:28:46.439 --> 02:28:50.580 The father yells in frustration, throwing his controller to the floor, but the boy sighs 02:28:50.580 --> 02:28:51.120 in relief. 02:28:51.120 --> 02:28:55.080 Thank God, at least now he won’t have to pretend that this dinosaur game is anything 02:28:55.080 --> 02:28:55.439 good! 02:28:56.160 --> 02:28:59.819 “I guess it’s busted,” says the boy, ready to turn away from the Dreamcast. 02:28:59.819 --> 02:29:01.679 But his father is insistent. 02:29:01.680 --> 02:29:03.060 “No, no, it’s just warming up! 02:29:03.060 --> 02:29:04.020 Watch, I’ll fix this!” 02:29:04.620 --> 02:29:07.559 He grabs his controller and tries to click on “Two players” again. 02:29:07.560 --> 02:29:09.360 The screen only glitches more. 02:29:10.020 --> 02:29:12.241 “Okay, okay, just gimmie a minute!” says the father. 02:29:12.240 --> 02:29:14.880 “If this doesn’t work, I’ll just take the disc out and blow on it. 02:29:14.880 --> 02:29:15.660 I’m sure that’ll work!” 02:29:16.260 --> 02:29:17.760 The boy stares in confusion. 02:29:17.760 --> 02:29:19.380 It’s a disc, not a cartridge! 02:29:19.380 --> 02:29:22.380 He doesn’t see any way that blowing on it will have any effect. 02:29:22.380 --> 02:29:26.940 His father is just desperately grasping at straws, upset that his attempt at father-son 02:29:26.939 --> 02:29:28.200 bonding is being thwarted. 02:29:28.200 --> 02:29:30.420 Meanwhile, the cheerful loading screen music  02:29:30.420 --> 02:29:33.540 starts to fray, stuck repeating  a single reverberating 02:29:33.540 --> 02:29:36.540 note that gradually degenerates into a tuneless cacophony. 02:29:36.540 --> 02:29:41.460 The pixels shimmy and wobble on screen, the image fracturing worse and worse as the father 02:29:41.460 --> 02:29:44.220 struggles to get the game console to respond to his commands. 02:29:44.220 --> 02:29:49.320 The boy watches the screen with disinterest at first, but then… wait, what’s going 02:29:49.319 --> 02:29:49.559 on? 02:29:49.560 --> 02:29:54.480 The more he stares at the screen, the more the random noises and broken graphics seem 02:29:54.479 --> 02:30:00.179 to form into something strange, something unknowable, but also… something vaguely 02:30:00.180 --> 02:30:00.720 coherent? 02:30:01.319 --> 02:30:03.719 He blinks in confusion, his jaw dropping. 02:30:03.720 --> 02:30:07.980 He wants to call his father’s attention to the bizarre formations on screen, but his 02:30:07.979 --> 02:30:11.280 father is too busy wrestling with the controller to notice the effect that he’s having. 02:30:11.939 --> 02:30:12.479 “Dad! 02:30:12.479 --> 02:30:12.540 Dad! 02:30:12.540 --> 02:30:16.800 Look at the screen!” says the boy, grabbing his father’s shoulder and pointing. 02:30:17.340 --> 02:30:17.880 “Huh? 02:30:17.880 --> 02:30:18.300 What is it? 02:30:18.300 --> 02:30:18.720 Did it work? 02:30:18.720 --> 02:30:20.220 What the…” 02:30:20.880 --> 02:30:25.380 The father furrows his brow in confusion as he notices the wildly oscillating image on 02:30:25.380 --> 02:30:26.700 the TV screen for the first time. 02:30:27.479 --> 02:30:29.879 “That doesn’t look like a Dreamcast game at all. 02:30:29.880 --> 02:30:31.140 It’s all broken! 02:30:31.140 --> 02:30:31.920 I… 02:30:31.920 --> 02:30:32.940 I think?” 02:30:32.939 --> 02:30:38.519 The colors swirl around the screen in hypnotic, psychedelic patterns, and both father and 02:30:38.520 --> 02:30:41.400 son find themselves mesmerized, unable to look away. 02:30:42.240 --> 02:30:46.200 The boy is only vaguely aware of what computer graphics in the late 90s would have looked 02:30:46.200 --> 02:30:48.780 like, but he’s reasonably  sure that no underpowered  02:30:48.780 --> 02:30:51.300 90s console could produce something this wild. 02:30:52.140 --> 02:30:56.820 The boy feels himself getting groggy, his brain fogging over as he stares at the wildly 02:30:56.819 --> 02:30:58.200 oscillating shapes on the screen. 02:30:58.200 --> 02:31:02.220 He feels like he could almost make sense of them if he just tried hard enough… 02:31:03.240 --> 02:31:07.740 it’s like looking at one of those old-fashioned Magic Eye pictures, where the image only collapses 02:31:07.740 --> 02:31:09.960 into sense if you cross your eyes just right. 02:31:09.960 --> 02:31:13.740 But these strange swirls of color are something far beyond that. 02:31:14.819 --> 02:31:19.559 The swirls spiral into distinct vortex patterns, to the point that the boy might almost believe 02:31:19.560 --> 02:31:21.241 that he’s looking at eyes. 02:31:21.240 --> 02:31:22.679 Yes, that’s it. 02:31:22.680 --> 02:31:23.340 He’s sure of it! 02:31:23.340 --> 02:31:28.260 He wants to panic as he becomes aware of the sensation of being watched… he feels like 02:31:28.260 --> 02:31:34.020 something beyond the screen, some malevolent entity, has somehow gained access to his world 02:31:34.020 --> 02:31:39.180 via this video game and is now watching him, sizing him up like a predator would size up 02:31:39.180 --> 02:31:39.781 its prey. 02:31:39.780 --> 02:31:44.460 He can’t think of anything except those staring eyes with their rotating pupils. 02:31:44.460 --> 02:31:49.380 He wants to fall forward and disappear into the eternal nothingness of those awful eyes! 02:31:50.220 --> 02:31:52.200 Next to him, his father is silent. 02:31:52.200 --> 02:31:56.040 Like the boy, he’s also enraptured by the infinite eyes on screen. 02:31:56.939 --> 02:32:00.780 “Oh my God,” he mutters, so quiet that the boy can barely hear him. 02:32:01.319 --> 02:32:03.359 “Do you… do you see the eyes? 02:32:04.260 --> 02:32:09.060 It’s your grandfather… he’s watching us… from beyond… 02:32:09.720 --> 02:32:10.920 I know that’s him…” 02:32:11.520 --> 02:32:15.781 The boy doesn’t know whether his father is right; his father is probably just letting 02:32:15.780 --> 02:32:20.040 his guilt color his perception, because the boy doesn’t feel like there’s human intelligence 02:32:20.040 --> 02:32:21.240 on the other side of the screen. 02:32:21.240 --> 02:32:27.120 Whatever is out there, whether it’s an alien mind from beyond human ken or simply a computer 02:32:27.120 --> 02:32:31.800 program given awful sentience by a freak accident, it’s not something that the boy can even 02:32:31.800 --> 02:32:32.880 begin to comprehend. 02:32:32.880 --> 02:32:38.340 He feels his mind shutting down in the face of that terror, as if his brain simply cannot 02:32:38.340 --> 02:32:39.240 take the strain anymore. 02:32:40.140 --> 02:32:43.860 He’s only vaguely aware of his father hitting the floor in a dead faint. 02:32:43.859 --> 02:32:45.000 That should worry him. 02:32:45.000 --> 02:32:49.560 He should be frightened, he should want to rush to his father’s side and try to shake 02:32:49.560 --> 02:32:53.180 him back awake… but his brain can’t make his body respond. 02:32:53.180 --> 02:32:57.840 He feels his arms and legs getting weak and his eyelids getting heavy. 02:32:57.840 --> 02:33:03.360 It isn’t long before his eyes drift shut, and the boy collapses onto the floor next 02:33:03.359 --> 02:33:03.899 to his father. 02:33:04.680 --> 02:33:09.360 Hours later, after the sun has already set, a car pulls up in front of the house, and 02:33:09.359 --> 02:33:10.559 the boy’s mother gets out. 02:33:11.520 --> 02:33:15.121 She frowns as she looks at the front of the house, noting that the lights are on inside 02:33:15.120 --> 02:33:19.140 and the front bay window casts a yellow square of light across the front lawn. 02:33:19.140 --> 02:33:21.120 The boy and his father must still be inside! 02:33:21.120 --> 02:33:24.840 They were supposed to have finished moving all that junk hours ago. 02:33:24.840 --> 02:33:28.380 She’s tried calling both of their cellphones, to remind them that they should be home for 02:33:28.380 --> 02:33:32.040 dinner, but neither father nor son has answered any of her calls or texts. 02:33:32.760 --> 02:33:33.960 She’s not worried, though. 02:33:33.960 --> 02:33:38.160 They often ignore their phones when they get really involved in an activity, and she suspects 02:33:38.160 --> 02:33:41.820 – rightly – that her husband probably found some childhood relic in the basement 02:33:41.819 --> 02:33:44.099 that’s distracted him from getting the task done. 02:33:44.100 --> 02:33:47.640 She’s willing to bet that the two of them probably haven’t even finished cleaning 02:33:47.640 --> 02:33:47.880 the basement! 02:33:47.880 --> 02:33:51.420 She walks up the garden path and puts her hand against the doorknob. 02:33:51.420 --> 02:33:52.920 The door creaks open. 02:33:52.920 --> 02:33:54.180 She frowns. 02:33:54.180 --> 02:33:56.340 Nothing sinister about that, right? 02:33:56.939 --> 02:34:00.000 Of course, they wouldn’t bother to lock the door if they were still working inside, 02:34:00.000 --> 02:34:00.479 right? 02:34:01.140 --> 02:34:04.560 Nevertheless, she feels a strange chill run up her spine. 02:34:04.560 --> 02:34:06.600 Why is she suddenly so nervous? 02:34:07.439 --> 02:34:09.960 She pushes open the door and fumbles for the light switch. 02:34:09.960 --> 02:34:12.840 The foyer is dark – as is most of the house. 02:34:12.840 --> 02:34:17.640 The only light comes from the living room, and she can that something within is throwing 02:34:17.640 --> 02:34:19.440 dancing shadows against the far wall. 02:34:20.220 --> 02:34:23.640 She hears a toneless, mechanical drone emanating from the living room. 02:34:23.640 --> 02:34:25.320 Are they watching television? 02:34:25.319 --> 02:34:28.859 That would be just like them to turn on the tube and completely lose track of time! 02:34:28.859 --> 02:34:32.099 But what TV show would make an awful din like that? 02:34:32.100 --> 02:34:37.020 She storms into the living room, ready to read her husband and son the riot act, but 02:34:37.020 --> 02:34:38.940 then she stops dead in her tracks. 02:34:38.939 --> 02:34:43.439 Her husband and son are here alright, but they’re lying in crumpled heaps upon the 02:34:43.439 --> 02:34:45.540 floor, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. 02:34:46.080 --> 02:34:49.800 She screams as she rushes to her husband, praying that she’s wrong, that they’re 02:34:49.800 --> 02:34:53.640 just playing a prank on her, that they just got tired and lay down on the floor to rest… 02:34:53.640 --> 02:34:58.320 but as she presses her finger against his wrist, she feels that he’s cold and lifeless. 02:34:58.319 --> 02:35:00.899 He’s dead and has been for hours! 02:35:00.899 --> 02:35:04.979 Her son, pale and cold and lifeless, lies next to him. 02:35:05.640 --> 02:35:08.340 She looks up, her gaze connecting with the television screen. 02:35:08.340 --> 02:35:13.319 It continues to flash vacillating images in an erratic loop, nonsense static that she 02:35:13.319 --> 02:35:13.740 can’t understand. 02:35:13.740 --> 02:35:19.380 But, if she didn’t know better, she might almost feel like… it’s watching her. 02:35:19.380 --> 02:35:25.140 The strange swirling eyes stare back, unblinking and eternal. 02:35:25.140 --> 02:35:31.380 What started as a misguided attempt at father-son bonding time ended in tragedy, because those 02:35:31.380 --> 02:35:36.600 GD-ROM discs weren’t ordinary discs at all… but rather instances of what the SCP Foundation 02:35:36.600 --> 02:35:39.121 has dubbed SCP-4904. 02:35:39.120 --> 02:35:45.420 SCP-4904 is a set of seven modified GD-ROM discs manufactured by the Sega Corporation; 02:35:45.420 --> 02:35:50.220 SCP Foundation agents have been able to pinpoint the date of manufacture of each disc sometime 02:35:50.220 --> 02:35:52.800 between 1997 and 1999. 02:35:52.800 --> 02:35:57.840 The GD-ROM was a proprietary format originally used for the Dreamcast video game console, 02:35:57.840 --> 02:36:02.520 developed by Yamaha as an answer to fighting the piracy that was rampant among more standard 02:36:02.520 --> 02:36:06.960 compact discs and to offer increased storage capacity without the expense of the fledgling 02:36:06.960 --> 02:36:07.680 DVD-ROM. 02:36:07.680 --> 02:36:12.781 The GD-ROM seemed promising at the time as it had a storage capacity of a full gigabyte, 02:36:12.780 --> 02:36:15.359 42% higher than conventional CDs. 02:36:15.899 --> 02:36:21.059 Ultimately, though, GD-ROMs failed to catch on and were quickly outpaced by DVD technology. 02:36:21.060 --> 02:36:26.581 The seven discs in the SCP Foundation’s storage are visually indistinguishable from 02:36:26.580 --> 02:36:29.700 non-anomalous GD-ROM discs, except for their serial numbers. 02:36:29.700 --> 02:36:34.260 The serial numbers give some indication of the mystery behind their origin, revealing 02:36:34.260 --> 02:36:38.460 that they were created by Sega’s enigmatic “R&D-0” division during the height of 02:36:38.460 --> 02:36:40.140 the 90s console wars. 02:36:40.140 --> 02:36:45.960 It is estimated that R&D-0 produced a total of between 60 and 100 experimental GD-ROM 02:36:45.960 --> 02:36:49.319 discs similar to those in SCP-4904, but the  02:36:49.319 --> 02:36:51.660 rest of the production line  is currently unaccounted 02:36:51.660 --> 02:36:51.840 for. 02:36:52.560 --> 02:36:59.100 Each SCP-49004 GD-ROM contains one Sega video game, including Sonic Adventure, Sega Rally 02:36:59.100 --> 02:37:04.500 Championship 2, House of the Dead 2, Sega Bass Fishing, Godzilla Generations, Virtua 02:37:04.500 --> 02:37:08.880 Fighter 3tb, and an unreleased 3D rhythm game by the name of Eurhythmics. 02:37:08.880 --> 02:37:13.500 But the result when anyone tries to play any of these different games is always the same. 02:37:14.160 --> 02:37:20.040 When an instance of SCP-4904 is fed into a Dreamcast console, it causes the optical disc 02:37:20.040 --> 02:37:24.720 drive's reader to move in unpredictable ways, accessing disc data seemingly at random. 02:37:25.260 --> 02:37:29.040 At first, the game boots up as expected and seems perfectly ordinary. 02:37:29.040 --> 02:37:33.899 But when a player progresses past the loading screen, the game very quickly becomes illegible. 02:37:34.800 --> 02:37:39.360 Sprites and assets blend into each other in asymmetrical chunks, maps recursively render 02:37:39.359 --> 02:37:43.920 onto other maps, and soundtracks transform within seconds into incessant, oscillating 02:37:43.920 --> 02:37:44.220 noise. 02:37:45.120 --> 02:37:49.800 A perfunctory glance at the results seems like absolute chaos, but eventually, observers 02:37:49.800 --> 02:37:51.600 will start to notice patterns within the noise. 02:37:51.600 --> 02:37:57.420 These eventually coalesce into complex renderings of landscapes and figures wildly inconsistent 02:37:57.420 --> 02:37:59.580 with the content of the original games and  02:37:59.580 --> 02:38:02.700 computationally impossible  for 1990s-era video-game 02:38:02.700 --> 02:38:03.660 hardware to render. 02:38:03.660 --> 02:38:08.580 Repeated tests by SCP foundation agents have turned up a recurring motif in the images 02:38:08.580 --> 02:38:13.559 shown by SCP-4904 – spinning discs that resemble malevolent eyes. 02:38:14.340 --> 02:38:19.260 SCP agents hoped that research into R&D-0 and the man responsible for the discs’ creation 02:38:19.260 --> 02:38:23.100 might help to explain the reason or the purpose of SCP-4904. 02:38:23.100 --> 02:38:26.220 R&D-0's former lead hardware programmer Ken  02:38:26.220 --> 02:38:28.980 Matsuya has said on record  that the team encountered 02:38:28.979 --> 02:38:32.639 numerous problems in implementing the discs' anti-piracy encryption measures. 02:38:32.640 --> 02:38:34.440 The result was unplayable. 02:38:34.439 --> 02:38:39.000 Frustrated by this failure, Sega ordered that the encryption project be abandoned, and the 02:38:39.000 --> 02:38:40.800 prototype discs quietly destroyed. 02:38:41.460 --> 02:38:45.180 However, it does not appear that Sega’s orders were carried out to the letter. 02:38:45.180 --> 02:38:49.920 Matsuya himself rescued seven of the discs, hoping to learn more about the issue on his 02:38:49.920 --> 02:38:54.180 own time, and it’s possible that other discs not currently known to the foundation also 02:38:54.180 --> 02:38:54.720 survived. 02:38:55.380 --> 02:38:59.700 With the help of improvised Sega hardware, Matsuya spent the next four years trying to 02:38:59.700 --> 02:39:02.280 understand the cause behind the discs' erratic behavior. 02:39:02.280 --> 02:39:07.139 Notebooks recovered from his apartment contain numerous sketches of the disc-generated visuals, 02:39:07.859 --> 02:39:12.299 depicting fractal combinations of landscape and figures seemingly drawn from places outside 02:39:12.300 --> 02:39:16.680 of the game data themselves, and stylized spinning discs in the shape of eyes. 02:39:17.460 --> 02:39:22.560 Matsuya himself met a strange and untimely end when he was found dead from a heart attack 02:39:22.560 --> 02:39:24.900 in his apartment in August 2003. 02:39:25.560 --> 02:39:30.121 Stranger still, an autopsy revealed that large portions of his brain stem and limbic system 02:39:30.120 --> 02:39:30.840 were missing. 02:39:30.840 --> 02:39:35.640 His death puzzled authorities, since there was no evidence of any human -- or even non-human 02:39:35.640 --> 02:39:36.599 -- intrusion. 02:39:37.260 --> 02:39:42.360 Matsuya had apparently loaded one of the SCP-4904 instances in his possession into his home 02:39:42.359 --> 02:39:44.819 Dreamcast before his death,  because the distinctive  02:39:44.819 --> 02:39:47.099 psychedelic visuals were playing on his television 02:39:47.100 --> 02:39:49.320 screen at the time that his body was discovered. 02:39:49.979 --> 02:39:53.939 Foundation agents suspected that the visuals might have some connection with Matsuya’s 02:39:53.939 --> 02:39:58.200 death, leading to the discs’ subsequent classification and containment, but intensive 02:39:58.200 --> 02:40:03.720 tests on SCP-4904 by Foundation personnel have failed to shed any light on the situation. 02:40:04.319 --> 02:40:09.240 Both the discs’ strange behavior and Matsuya’s death remain complete mysteries. 02:40:09.240 --> 02:40:15.960 Is SCP-4904 a gateway into some other dimension, and its bizarre images a signal from another 02:40:15.960 --> 02:40:16.380 world? 02:40:16.380 --> 02:40:18.840 Could it be a message from beyond the veil? 02:40:18.840 --> 02:40:24.060 Or is it all just due to a simple computer glitch, and Matsuya’s death just a freak 02:40:24.060 --> 02:40:24.420 coincidence? 02:40:24.420 --> 02:40:28.680 Whatever the case, the Foundation is doing its best to uncover the truth. 02:40:28.680 --> 02:40:34.440 SCP-4904 has been given the object class safe, but should be stored in conditions comparable 02:40:34.439 --> 02:40:37.200 to those needed to keep non-anomalous discs viable. 02:40:37.200 --> 02:40:43.019 All seven instances of SCP-4904 are kept in a climate-controlled Safe-class storage locker 02:40:43.020 --> 02:40:43.800 at Site-15. 02:40:43.800 --> 02:40:49.080 Long-term tests lasting over an hour should only be conducted on reinforced modified hardware 02:40:49.080 --> 02:40:51.660 to prevent disc deformation or explosion. 02:40:51.660 --> 02:40:56.340 The switchblade’s knife glints in the dark, and  the bully holding it runs through the arcade,   02:40:56.340 --> 02:41:02.400 glinting in terror. The Kid watches, shocked  by the insanity unfolding, as twenty tiny,   02:41:02.399 --> 02:41:08.700 vicious gorillas chase the knife-wielding bully  as tears streak his face. This situation defies   02:41:08.700 --> 02:41:15.960 all explanation, unless you know about  SCP-3092. Let’s go back to the beginning.  02:41:15.960 --> 02:41:21.960 The Kid almost trips over his laces as his Chucks  hammer against the sidewalk. The headphones for   02:41:21.960 --> 02:41:27.899 his Walkman bounce against his neck as the wind  rushes past. Heaving in as much air as he can, the   02:41:27.899 --> 02:41:33.479 Kid runs through town looking desperately this way  and that for any grown-ups he recognizes. No one. 02:41:34.140 --> 02:41:39.360 Just strangers with thick mustaches and perms,  chatting outside Blockbuster and Waldenbooks,   02:41:39.359 --> 02:41:44.219 totally oblivious to the fact that he’s  running for his life. The Kid cocks an ear,   02:41:44.220 --> 02:41:49.560 and sure enough, he hears that all-too-familiar  rolling clattering sound coming after him. The   02:41:49.560 --> 02:41:54.300 skateboards are catching up. A few insults  catch on the wind and float across to him. 02:41:55.020 --> 02:41:58.860 Four eyes. Earthworm. And a good few  names that he doesn’t want to repeat.   02:41:59.580 --> 02:42:02.880 Apparently, their town used to have a  good Native American community, that’s   02:42:02.880 --> 02:42:07.920 why his parents had moved here. But nowadays,  it seems to just be white faces all around him.   02:42:08.700 --> 02:42:12.359 From what the bullies are shouting as they  chase him - and the total apathy of the   02:42:12.359 --> 02:42:16.380 grown-ups on the sidewalks at the words -  it’s no wonder everyone else moved away. 02:42:16.380 --> 02:42:22.140 A rock hits the back of his head, almost knocking  his glasses off. The sound of the tiny wheels   02:42:22.140 --> 02:42:28.860 roars louder and louder with every block. He needs  to find an escape. And fast. Home’s way too far   02:42:28.859 --> 02:42:34.679 away. His parents aren’t expecting him home until  nightfall, he needs a spot to lay low. The arcade?   02:42:34.680 --> 02:42:39.840 It’s closed today, but the owner told him where  the spare key is. He could go there, but he needs   02:42:39.840 --> 02:42:43.800 to lose them first. His lungs are burning,  and his legs are starting to give up on him. 02:42:43.800 --> 02:42:44.940 Ice! 02:42:44.939 --> 02:42:49.799 The Kid sees it too late and steps straight  onto a patch of it. His Converse slides out   02:42:49.800 --> 02:42:53.400 from under him and flings his limbs  this way and that trying desperately   02:42:53.399 --> 02:42:58.019 to stay on his feet as he skids across  the ice. His momentum throws him forward,   02:42:58.020 --> 02:43:01.980 and he sticks out another foot, catching  himself back on the sidewalk. Perfect. 02:43:02.819 --> 02:43:05.819 He turns just in time to see the four  bullies on their skateboards hitting   02:43:05.819 --> 02:43:08.639 the patch and going flying.  They land in a heap together,   02:43:08.640 --> 02:43:12.360 groaning and scuffling, trying  to get back up. Now’s his chance. 02:43:12.359 --> 02:43:17.280 The Kid shoots off down an alleyway, loops  back around the block, turns up a side street,   02:43:17.280 --> 02:43:21.780 and arrives at the arcade without having  looked back once. He snatches the key   02:43:21.780 --> 02:43:25.800 from under the gutter and looks around the  quiet street. Nobody there, thank goodness. 02:43:26.580 --> 02:43:30.960 He darts through the door and locks it behind  him with trembling fingers. Tears flood his eyes   02:43:30.960 --> 02:43:36.420 as he lets his forehead rest against the door.  Every day. Every damn day it’s more of the same.   02:43:37.020 --> 02:43:40.680 Why can’t he just have some peace?  Why can’t he just be normal? 02:43:41.640 --> 02:43:45.960 The Kid stands there crying for a long time.  He can’t tell his parents what’s going on,   02:43:45.960 --> 02:43:50.280 they’ve got enough of their own problems.  He tried to tell his teachers, but at lunch,   02:43:50.280 --> 02:43:54.359 he overheard them laughing and joking  about it all between themselves. It   02:43:54.359 --> 02:43:56.700 just sometimes feels like no one’s on his side. 02:43:58.020 --> 02:44:02.161 The Kid takes a deep breath and rubs the  moisture out of his eyes. That’s enough.   02:44:02.160 --> 02:44:07.500 If he keeps thinking about it all day, it’s only  gonna feel worse. He’s on his own now, he’s safe.   02:44:07.500 --> 02:44:13.260 What he needs to do is just enjoy the little bit  of peace he has now, before it all starts again. 02:44:13.260 --> 02:44:18.420 And what better place to be laying low  than the arcade? He hits the lights. 02:44:18.420 --> 02:44:24.120 Pinball, claw machines, and arcade cabinets all  light up and start playing over one another. Air   02:44:24.120 --> 02:44:28.920 hockey, basketball hoops, and Fussball all beep  at him invitingly. He can’t help but let a smile   02:44:28.920 --> 02:44:33.300 spread across his face. He walks across the  carpet looking this way and that at Frogger,   02:44:33.300 --> 02:44:37.920 Pac-Man, Galaga, Donkey Kong. So  many choices… so many choices… 02:44:37.920 --> 02:44:42.180 He hops on the counter and hits the  side of the cash register. It pops open,   02:44:42.180 --> 02:44:46.680 revealing trays stacked full of quarters.  Mr. Burns, the guy who owns the place,   02:44:46.680 --> 02:44:49.620 told him he’s allowed to let himself  in and use the money in the register   02:44:49.620 --> 02:44:53.880 to play whenever he wants. On the house. As  the Kid scoops a handful out of the drawer,   02:44:53.880 --> 02:44:57.660 he realizes he might not be totally  on his own in this town after all. 02:44:58.380 --> 02:45:02.520 Pac-Man beeps into life as soon as the  quarters fall into the slot. He grabs the   02:45:02.520 --> 02:45:06.541 joystick and stares intently at the screen,  darting this way and that through the maze,   02:45:06.540 --> 02:45:11.340 munching, munching, munching. Try as they  might, the four ghosts just can’t catch   02:45:11.340 --> 02:45:16.080 him. The Kid grins. All that time running from  four bullies wasn’t quite for nothing, was it? 02:45:16.080 --> 02:45:20.160 But after a couple of levels he  gets bored. He always plays Pac-Man,   02:45:20.160 --> 02:45:24.599 so much so that he’s memorized his route through  the first few levels. Kinda takes the fun out of   02:45:24.600 --> 02:45:28.800 things a bit. He lets the ghosts surround him  and watches Pac-Man swirl away into nothing. 02:45:28.800 --> 02:45:33.060 Frogger isn’t much better. He never really  clicked with this one for some reason,   02:45:33.060 --> 02:45:37.201 just felt too stop-start. He lets the  frog get run over and stands back,   02:45:37.200 --> 02:45:40.620 letting out a sigh. Is there anything  in here he hasn’t touched yet? 02:45:41.220 --> 02:45:44.640 Wait, what’s that? In the corner  of the room, there’s a new machine,   02:45:44.640 --> 02:45:48.120 still half covered in a sheet. It  hasn’t even been plugged into the   02:45:48.120 --> 02:45:52.319 wall yet. The Kid skips over to it  and bends down to hook it up. There. 02:45:53.160 --> 02:45:56.399 He stands back, takes hold of the  sheet, and pulls as dramatically as   02:45:56.399 --> 02:46:01.920 he can. It billows and unfurls  to reveal… a claw machine. Oh. 02:46:01.920 --> 02:46:07.859 It’s just another claw machine. Black-Tie Toys  is written on the side in classic 80s lettering,   02:46:07.859 --> 02:46:12.540 just under 2 meters tall or so. Nothing to  make it stand out from the other cabinets   02:46:12.540 --> 02:46:16.680 in here. But not only does it look boring,  it doesn’t have anything he wants inside.   02:46:16.680 --> 02:46:22.440 Just a bunch of plushee gorillas. Not exactly  a brand-new cabinet, but worth a shot anyway.   02:46:23.340 --> 02:46:26.520 The Kid slots a coin in and cracks  his knuckles. Here goes nothing. 02:46:27.420 --> 02:46:31.800 The claw swings into life at the slightest touch  of the joystick. These things are normally rigged,   02:46:31.800 --> 02:46:35.640 so he’s not exactly expecting much from  it. May as well just drop the claw here,   02:46:35.640 --> 02:46:39.120 all the toys in this one  are the same anyway. No way! 02:46:39.120 --> 02:46:43.080 It’s caught onto one of the gorilla’s feet,  lifting the toy up as it dangles upside   02:46:43.080 --> 02:46:48.600 down. It swings precariously this way and  that as the claw guides it over to the hole.   02:46:48.600 --> 02:46:51.720 It’s a defective toy with a bit of  stitching loose on its shoulder,   02:46:51.720 --> 02:46:55.680 but he couldn’t care less. The thrill  of getting one first time, it’s… 02:46:56.399 --> 02:46:58.559 The toy drops into the chute  and thumps to the bottom,   02:46:58.560 --> 02:47:03.661 just behind the little door. The Kid punches the  air and yells in triumph. He did it, first try! 02:47:04.380 --> 02:47:08.819 He bends down and reaches out to the little  flap, just as the flap opens by itself.   02:47:09.540 --> 02:47:14.399 He freezes as the little toy gorilla opens the  door for himself and hops out onto the carpet.   02:47:14.399 --> 02:47:18.479 The Kid yelps and jumps backwards, tripping  over his feet. Somewhere in that chute,   02:47:18.479 --> 02:47:23.819 between falling in and popping out, this  little toy had… well, it had come alive! 02:47:24.720 --> 02:47:28.920 The little gorilla does the same as the Kid,  leaping backwards defensively. It raises   02:47:28.920 --> 02:47:33.600 two soft fists with surprisingly dexterous  fingers and looks the Kid up and down warily. 02:47:34.200 --> 02:47:37.979 It orders the Kid, in a stern,  militaristic voice, to identify himself. 02:47:38.819 --> 02:47:43.979 The Kid’s jaw drops open. It can speak? The  little plushee gorilla’s voice is gruff but   02:47:43.979 --> 02:47:48.179 high-pitched enough to match his size.  He barely comes up to the Kid’s knee. 02:47:48.180 --> 02:47:49.860 The Gorilla asks him if he’s friendly. 02:47:50.640 --> 02:47:53.400 The Kid nods quickly. The gorilla’s eye narrow. 02:47:53.399 --> 02:47:56.339 ‘What’s your favorite fruit?’ the Gorilla asks. 02:47:57.300 --> 02:47:57.840 ‘Bananas.’ 02:47:57.840 --> 02:48:02.160 ‘Phew,’ the gorilla says, dropping his  fists. ‘You never can be too careful.’ 02:48:02.160 --> 02:48:07.559 The Kid dusts himself off and climbs to his feet.  The gorilla deftly scales the side of the claw   02:48:07.560 --> 02:48:12.900 machine and hangs off it, surveying the arcade.  The Kid asks his name, which seems to stump the   02:48:12.899 --> 02:48:17.639 little toy. It picks at the loose stitching on his  shoulder. The Kid suggests calling him Stitches. 02:48:17.640 --> 02:48:20.040 The gorilla salutes at the sound of his new name. 02:48:20.880 --> 02:48:23.040 ‘Alright, kid, what’s the  operation? Give me the sitrep.’ 02:48:23.819 --> 02:48:29.399 Operation? Sit rep? The Kid stands  there nonplussed for a moment. Well,   02:48:29.399 --> 02:48:33.299 they’re in an arcade. Stitches  nods sagely, taking the intel on   02:48:33.300 --> 02:48:37.440 board. And they have to stay here until  nightfall. The little gorilla has already   02:48:37.439 --> 02:48:41.219 swung himself up on top of the machine to  get a better view of strategic locations. 02:48:41.220 --> 02:48:42.900 ‘And where are the hostiles?’ 02:48:43.439 --> 02:48:47.939 The Kid hesitates. Stitches looks down at  him knowingly. An unspoken understanding   02:48:47.939 --> 02:48:52.319 passes between them, they could be attacked  at any moment. The pair of them take a walk   02:48:52.319 --> 02:48:56.340 around the room, the Kid explaining the  situation. Four bullies. Three entrances;   02:48:56.340 --> 02:49:01.140 front door, alley door, and a window. No  back rooms or hallways, those are all locked. 02:49:01.140 --> 02:49:04.500 The gorilla takes a candy cane from behind  the counter and sticks it in the side of his   02:49:04.500 --> 02:49:08.220 mouth like a cigar. He doesn’t seem to  be able to chew it or even suck on it,   02:49:08.220 --> 02:49:11.580 he is just a toy, after all, but the  Kid feels like he can’t really point   02:49:11.580 --> 02:49:15.000 that out. He has no idea how  fragile his comrade’s ego is. 02:49:15.000 --> 02:49:20.399 ‘Look. I can’t actually taste it okay? I can only  see, hear and touch. I’m insecure about it, leave   02:49:20.399 --> 02:49:24.960 me alone. We haven’t got much time anyway,’ the  gorilla says. ‘We’ve got to prepare our defenses.’ 02:49:25.800 --> 02:49:26.940 The two of them go to work,   02:49:26.939 --> 02:49:30.660 Stitches barking orders at the Kid as they  ready themselves for the bullies’ arrival. 02:49:31.439 --> 02:49:34.080 The Kid asks Stitches what exactly their aim is. 02:49:34.080 --> 02:49:36.420 The plushee looks at the Kid  like it’s a trick question. 02:49:36.420 --> 02:49:41.280 ‘Total domination. Absolute victory.  Annihilation. A butchering.’ 02:49:42.060 --> 02:49:46.320 The Kid straightens, suddenly feeling  very unsure about all of this. He tells   02:49:46.319 --> 02:49:49.019 Stitches that he doesn’t want to  kill anyone, or anything like that. 02:49:49.020 --> 02:49:49.980 ‘Kill?!’ 02:49:49.979 --> 02:49:53.099 The little gorilla falls backwards  off the coin machine in surprise. 02:49:53.100 --> 02:49:57.000 ‘Kill? No, no, no, no! What’s wrong with  you? Of course not! We’re going to tickle,   02:49:57.000 --> 02:49:59.580 bamboozle, inconvenience, and bonk. Where those   02:49:59.580 --> 02:50:01.979 things fit within the confines of  the Geneva Convention, of course.’ 02:50:01.979 --> 02:50:04.099 BANG BANG BANG! 02:50:04.100 --> 02:50:08.400 The hammering fists on the door are  so loud that it shakes on its hinges.   02:50:08.399 --> 02:50:11.280 They’ve barely had 10 minutes  to get ready, that’s not far.   02:50:12.120 --> 02:50:16.740 The Kid can see the shadows of feet blocking the  street light. His knees go weak almost straight   02:50:16.740 --> 02:50:20.160 away at the sound of their catcalling  through the cracks. They’ve found him. 02:50:20.160 --> 02:50:24.000 He could make a break for the alley  door? If he’s quiet enough, he could… 02:50:24.000 --> 02:50:28.200 But it’s too late. As he looks at the fire  escape, he can see another pair of legs   02:50:28.200 --> 02:50:31.979 blocking his exit. No point jumping out of the  window, they’d see him straight away and have   02:50:31.979 --> 02:50:38.040 him blocked off from both sides. He looks down at  his squishy little companion. They have no choice. 02:50:38.700 --> 02:50:41.519 It’s time for gorilla warfare. 02:50:42.240 --> 02:50:46.740 The front door crashes open, splinters of wood  flying everywhere, and three of the bullies storm   02:50:46.740 --> 02:50:51.780 in. Front and center is their Ringleader, dressed  in all-black skater clothes with a constant sneer   02:50:51.780 --> 02:50:57.000 on his face he must easily be a good foot taller  than the kid. But even he looks small standing in   02:50:57.000 --> 02:51:01.680 between the Twins. Hulking egg-shaped boys with  no hair on their heads or glints in their eyes. 02:51:01.680 --> 02:51:06.180 The banging noise behind the Kid tells him that  the fourth bully is trying to kick his way through   02:51:06.180 --> 02:51:10.260 the alley door. But they don’t have time to  deal with that now, the Twins are storming over   02:51:10.260 --> 02:51:15.480 to him like a pair of freight trains. His legs  are really shaking now, he needs to move but… 02:51:15.479 --> 02:51:19.919 Stitches is gone! That loyal gorilla that  had been at his side just a moment ago.   02:51:19.920 --> 02:51:24.720 But as soon as trouble arrived, he’d  disappeared. Just like they always do. 02:51:25.500 --> 02:51:28.740 The Twins are nearly upon him now.  The Kid doesn’t have a choice,   02:51:28.740 --> 02:51:32.760 he takes a deep breath and closes  his eyes, ready for a beating. 02:51:32.760 --> 02:51:35.114 ‘HHHHYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’ 02:51:35.114 --> 02:51:40.560 The primal scream fills the arcade. Out of the  rafters, a tiny toy gorilla swings down on a loose   02:51:40.560 --> 02:51:45.241 cable, heading straight for the Twins’ faces.  Their round faces barely have time to go from   02:51:45.240 --> 02:51:51.120 ‘angry’ to ‘confused’ before the cuddly toy is on  top of them, pummeling them with its soft fists. 02:51:51.120 --> 02:51:55.260 Turns out those fists aren’t worth much  in a fight. Twin 1 pulls the ape off   02:51:55.260 --> 02:51:58.200 his face and holds it arm's length.  The two of them stare at Stitches,   02:51:58.200 --> 02:52:02.160 who’s swinging his fists wildly through  thin air. Apparently lacking the brain   02:52:02.160 --> 02:52:05.279 power to be stunned that an inanimate  cuddly toy has gained sentience,   02:52:05.279 --> 02:52:09.719 Twin 1 tosses Stitches over the arcade cabinets,  and the pair of them continue their advance. 02:52:10.620 --> 02:52:14.460 Except the distraction worked just long  enough. The Kid grins and runs around   02:52:14.460 --> 02:52:17.340 the cotton candy machine, which  by now is rumbling and banging,   02:52:17.340 --> 02:52:22.440 letting out a thin plume of smoke. His smile  falters as they close in on him. Any second now… 02:52:22.439 --> 02:52:26.639 But the Twins are closing in on him,  thick arms outstretched to grab him when… 02:52:26.640 --> 02:52:27.480 BANG! 02:52:27.479 --> 02:52:32.099 The cotton candy machine explodes. Hot  sugary webbing bursts out in all directions,   02:52:32.100 --> 02:52:36.420 wrapping around the bullies and missing the top  of the Kid’s ducking head by less than an inch. 02:52:36.420 --> 02:52:40.680 He can’t believe that actually worked.  Taking a step back to survey the damage,   02:52:40.680 --> 02:52:44.940 he looks down at the enormous Twins, bound up  in cotton candy, and arguing with each other. 02:52:45.600 --> 02:52:50.460 The alley door crashes open, and the fourth  bully rushes in. He’s skinny with tattoos all   02:52:50.460 --> 02:52:55.439 down both his arms. Looking at him now up close,  the Kid reckons he must be a good ten years older   02:52:55.439 --> 02:52:59.819 than the other bullies. Why he’s still hanging  out with high school kids is anyone’s guess. 02:53:00.479 --> 02:53:03.719 The Kid gulps. He’s only got  one more trick up his sleeve,   02:53:03.720 --> 02:53:07.080 but two bullies left to go. The  Ringleader’s disappeared somewhere.   02:53:07.080 --> 02:53:10.740 He can’t worry about that now though,  he just has to focus on the Old One. 02:53:11.460 --> 02:53:15.120 The man is leering at him from the back  of the arcade. He reaches round to his   02:53:15.120 --> 02:53:19.859 back pocket and pulls out something small  and shiny. Flicking open the knife blade,   02:53:19.859 --> 02:53:23.099 he spins the blade around between  his fingers and winks at the Kid. 02:53:23.880 --> 02:53:29.100 He feels all the blood leave his face. This isn’t  a game anymore. He needs to get out of here. 02:53:29.760 --> 02:53:33.600 The Kid makes a break for it, running  towards the open front doors but in a flash,   02:53:33.600 --> 02:53:38.100 the Old Bully is in front of him, playing with  the knife and smiling that same sinister smile.   02:53:38.760 --> 02:53:42.600 He tries to run back the other way,  to the alley door but the Bully is   02:53:42.600 --> 02:53:46.741 blocking him again before he can even  take a few steps. How is he that fast? 02:53:47.580 --> 02:53:52.559 Be calm, be calm. Think. The Kid reaches  into his pocket. Here goes nothing. 02:53:53.279 --> 02:53:57.420 He turns to run back to the front doors but,  this time, throws the pinballs all across the   02:53:57.420 --> 02:54:01.500 carpet. For a second, it looks like it hasn’t  worked, the Old Bully steps in the gaps between   02:54:01.500 --> 02:54:06.000 the pinballs. He looks down to see them all there  scattered around in front of him, but too late. 02:54:06.000 --> 02:54:10.439 His foot is already landing on about five  metal balls that all shoot out from under him.   02:54:11.100 --> 02:54:15.780 He goes flying, crashing right into a Galaga  machine head first. His leg twitches a couple   02:54:15.779 --> 02:54:19.679 times then he goes still. The knife flies  out of his hand, arcing through the air,   02:54:19.680 --> 02:54:24.900 spinning round and round and round before  landing with a gentle thud on the soft carpet. 02:54:24.899 --> 02:54:29.460 A sneaker treads onto the handle. A sneaker  attached to a hairy leg sticking out of a   02:54:29.460 --> 02:54:33.540 pair of cord pants. The Ringleader bends  over to pick up the blade, flicks it open,   02:54:33.540 --> 02:54:37.920 and holds it against the neck of the little  gorilla clutched in his arms. It would almost   02:54:37.920 --> 02:54:42.720 look funny, the bully threatening a cuddly  toy, if the toy wasn’t writhing around in fear. 02:54:42.720 --> 02:54:46.200 The Kid cries out in panic for the  knife-wielding bully to put his plush   02:54:46.200 --> 02:54:51.000 gorilla friend down. He’s got nothing left.  No more tricks up his sleeve. It’s over. 02:54:51.660 --> 02:54:55.200 The Bully just grins maniacally  at him and pushes the knife harder   02:54:55.200 --> 02:54:58.500 against the squishy neck. He’s got  Stitches by the shoulder of his arm,   02:54:58.500 --> 02:55:02.640 just above where the stitching is coming  loose. The Bully’s back is to the cash   02:55:02.640 --> 02:55:07.500 register. On the wall behind him, dozens  of giant cuddly prizes hang lifeless. 02:55:07.500 --> 02:55:11.760 The Bully hisses that the kid is gonna  pay for making them run all over town. 02:55:11.760 --> 02:55:16.620 The Kid nods his head. He will, he  promises. They can beat him up or   02:55:16.620 --> 02:55:20.580 whatever they like. Just don’t hurt Stitches.  The Bully laughs at the gorilla’s name. 02:55:20.580 --> 02:55:24.479 ‘You gave him a name! You’re such  a loser. Couldn’t come up with   02:55:24.479 --> 02:55:27.179 anything better than Stitches?  What does that name even mean?’ 02:55:27.180 --> 02:55:30.960 ‘Let me show you!’ the gorilla  yells. Twisting away from the   02:55:30.960 --> 02:55:33.960 blade he reaches into the gap in  his shoulder, crying out in pain,   02:55:33.960 --> 02:55:39.000 and pulls out handfuls of stuffing, throwing them  up into the Bully’s face. It doesn’t do much,   02:55:39.000 --> 02:55:43.500 but it’s enough to distract him. The  Kid seizes his chance, dashing forward   02:55:43.500 --> 02:55:47.340 and shoving the Bully square in the chest,  knocking him backwards and freeing Stitches. 02:55:47.340 --> 02:55:49.980 The little gorilla runs off  to safety straight away. 02:55:49.979 --> 02:55:53.040 The Kid can hardly believe what he’s seeing. 02:55:53.640 --> 02:55:58.560 The Bully is getting to his feet now, knife  still in hand, snarling. But almost immediately,   02:55:58.560 --> 02:56:03.661 his snarling is drowned out by the sound  of a shrieking primate, then another one. 02:56:03.660 --> 02:56:08.340 Both Kid and Bully wheel round to see  Stitches swinging across the wall of   02:56:08.340 --> 02:56:13.140 stuffed toys giving them high fives. As soon  as he touches each of them, they transform,   02:56:13.140 --> 02:56:18.780 falling and turning, into crazed gorillas.  All of them rushing straight at the Bully. 02:56:19.439 --> 02:56:23.339 His eyes widen in terror, he turns on his  heel and runs out through the open doors,   02:56:23.340 --> 02:56:28.380 pursued by a small army. He lashes out wildly  as he goes, striking one of the gorilla’s down. 02:56:29.160 --> 02:56:33.120 Stitches and the Kid chase him to the  doorway and watch as the little toy   02:56:33.120 --> 02:56:37.620 gorillas chase the bully off into the night,  swinging on lamp posts and leaping over cars. 02:56:37.620 --> 02:56:41.160 ‘Good thing he ran,’ Stitches  climbs up onto the Kid’s shoulder,   02:56:41.160 --> 02:56:45.420 popping his candy cane cigar back into  his mouth. ‘Our fists are about as hard   02:56:45.420 --> 02:56:48.480 as Hello Kitty’s. Let’s see how long  it takes him to figure that one out.’ 02:56:48.479 --> 02:56:53.219 A whimper behind them sobers the moment.  Turning around, they see the body of the   02:56:53.220 --> 02:56:57.360 gorilla toy that the bully punched as he  left. It lies slumped on a pinball machine,   02:56:57.359 --> 02:57:01.259 stuffing bursting from its chest.  Plumes of cotton cover the glass. 02:57:01.260 --> 02:57:06.540 Stitches buries his head in the Kid’s neck,  sickened and devastated by the casualty. 02:57:06.540 --> 02:57:09.240 The dying gorilla looks at him with beady   02:57:09.240 --> 02:57:14.160 little eyes. It raises a dramatic hand  towards him, breathing in shaky gasps. 02:57:15.240 --> 02:57:19.800 ‘Mr Stitches… I don’t peel so good…’ 02:57:19.800 --> 02:57:25.200 Like a community theater actor doing Shakespeare,  the little toy dies a dramatic death.   02:57:25.800 --> 02:57:30.840 Throwing his head back he takes one  desperate gasping breath and falls still. 02:57:31.620 --> 02:57:37.380 The Kid stands there in shock. Except, the little  gorilla does seem to be breathing. Very lightly,   02:57:37.380 --> 02:57:41.340 as if pretending he’s dead. The Kid  sidles up to the cabinet and pokes him. 02:57:41.340 --> 02:57:42.060 ‘Hello?’ 02:57:42.720 --> 02:57:47.280 He pokes the gorilla again. It opens  one eye and looks at him annoyed. 02:57:47.279 --> 02:57:48.779 ‘I’m out of the game, leave me alone.’ 02:57:48.779 --> 02:57:51.120 Stitches hits the Kid on the side of the head. 02:57:51.120 --> 02:57:53.519 ‘Let him be out of the game  in peace. Show some respect.’ 02:57:54.060 --> 02:57:54.720 ‘Sorry.’ 02:57:55.260 --> 02:57:59.340 The Kid clasps his hands together in  humility and stands by the pretend-dying   02:57:59.340 --> 02:58:04.440 gorilla. Stitches salutes. Until they get  bored and go off to play a game of Galaga.