 Item number, SCP-270, Object Class, Euclid. Special Containment Procedures. Due to SCP-270's immovable nature, a structure has been built around it that outwardly appears to be a large farmhouse, henceforth called Outpost Delta. Outpost Delta is to be staffed with trained personnel. All of the records of SCP-270 ciphers are kept at Site-11. If the security of Outpost Delta is compromised, SCP-270 is to be destroyed, along with all on-base records of verified or unverified information accumulated, and manuscripts outlining various encryptions SCP-270 has used. Description. SCP-270 is a nondescript black phone of mid-20th century make. There were no human populations at the location of discovery, and SCP-270 itself was well hidden by surrounding native vegetation. The unusual properties of SCP-270 were apparent upon discovering that the power cord extended an indefinite length into the soil directly below SCP-270, despite which a steady voice was speaking through the earphone. Investigations regarding how long the cord is have since been officially discontinued. What makes SCP-270 of continued interest is the audio stream from the earphone, which has since been discovered to contain encrypted messages that are of value to the Foundation, said ciphers are referred to as SCP-271. For the most part, SCP-271 consists of a mildly distorted human voice speaking in a steady monotone, which has been recorded listing names, cryptic phrases, patterns of numbers, quotes, mangled quotes, strings of letters, data expunged, and comprehensible words, sounds that cannot be produced by any known animal that continue for extended amounts of time, monologues, nursery rhymes, leading to speculation as to whether or not the narrator is in fact human, etc. The following has also been recorded, melodies, metallic scraping noises, metallic scraping noises that have been looped and recalibrated so they play roughly the same tune as several classical music tunes and a handful of data expunged, Morse code, human screaming, various computer programming languages, every known language on Earth, including in one incident, Data expunged, possibly of biological origin, condescending laughter, music, music played backwards, conversations that have evidently been recorded ranging from politically significant and extensively protected area to what was most likely an average household, discussing what grocery supplies to buy from the supermarket, static, ambient soundtracks, etc. The following is an approximate one minute long demonstrative sample of SCP-271. SCP-270 is otherwise a perfectly normal phone and is susceptible to damage, as similar phones would be. Disassembly has not uncovered the source of SCP-270's unusual properties. Attempts to decipher SCP-271 have yielded partial successes. In one notable case, a complicated cipher proved to be an intensive description of an SCP's imminent attempt to breach containment. Containment breach was accordingly prevented. Decoded portions have alternately been startlingly useful to the Foundation and immensely frustrating to both personnel working on SCP-271 and Foundation officials. For example, one several-hour study of what seemed to be a significant cipher proved to translate into a long and painstakingly thorough list of extremely unofficial synonyms for a human, data expunged. Likewise, information gained from SCP-271 has both prevented a possible XK-class End of the World scenario and listed secret ingredients of Dr. R's widely praised cherry pie. As it is impossible to determine how useful portions of SCP-271 will be, personnel are advised to choose whatever segment of SCP-271 they deem to be most promising. However, some portions of cipher are either too intricately encrypted for our most perspicacious personnel to decode or indeed may hold no meaning at all. Attempts to decode SCP-271 are continually ongoing. Addendum 270A, a probe was extended a total of 1 meters along the wire before the maximum extension length was reached. The matter has since been declared not of sufficient interest to merit a more thorough examination. Addendum 270B, as of the unidentified female voice of SCP-271 stuttered for several seconds before breaking down into what researchers described as disconsolate sobs, pleading to be data expunged. This continued for several more seconds before audio cut off abruptly to an excerpt of SCP-271. Immediately afterwards, SCP-271 proceeded as usual. The only noticeable difference being that the voice narrating SCP-271 was male. Addendum 270C, further examinations revealed that this was in fact not silence, but audio stimuli both too high or too low pitched for human perception. Numerous additional unidentified languages have been discovered upon supplying outposts Delta with appropriate audio equipment. Addendum 270D, as of late, SCP-271 has been becoming noticeably more difficult to decode. This includes utilizing more convoluted methods of encryption, loud background noises being added while the narrator is speaking, multiple voices speaking at once, and in one case, loud extremely personal details about Dr. A who was visibly shaken by the event. Morale has since plummeted while stress levels have skyrocketed. A computer program has been coded in order to automatically decode portions of SCP-271. A recreation wing has been added to outpost Delta. Addendum 270E, data processor 271 has been discontinued. All attempts to electronically resolve portions of SCP-271 have thus far failed. Note by Dr. A, as of late, concerns have risen regarding the psychological states of personnel working on SCP-270. What I'm talking about, of course, are the natural issues that arise when you have a situation like this. Namely, putting a bunch of highly intelligent, motivated, tenacious people together and ordering them to solve a puzzle that may or may not have a solution, and telling them that lives may depend upon their success or failure. Recently, Dr. A by some superhuman effort, cracked several minutes worth of cipher that had been discarded by communal agreement as a dud and data expunged, resulting in the aversion of an end-of-the-world scenario. This has not been beneficial for the mental states of many personnel, as every dud they discard may contain information regarding equally disastrous event. Since then, there have been rapidly emerging paranoia and or obsession related disorders. Some personnel are beginning to insist that the most trivial details of the cipher contain important messages. Others have not slept or eaten in days in their pursuits, and still others have suffered from psychotic breakdowns. Outpost Delta has since been supplied with more personnel in an attempt to spread the workload more thinly. However, the effects of having a few days of diligent work crumble into a dud, repeatedly, have proven to be an absolute disaster for morale and, at times, mental stability. Currently, we only have enough staff to decode roughly 0% of the cipher. So far, reassigning personnel after a prolonged stay at Outpost Delta, applying Class A amnestics, and returning them to work on 271 at the end of a several-month period of low-pressure jobs, has worked fairly well as a short-term solution. This, however, requires a rather large number of personnel to be continually circulating in and out of Outpost Delta to maintain the minimum amount of staff required to decode the greater portion of what comes out of SCP-270. In addition, long-term circulation throughout Post Delta has been shown to ingrain certain paranoid and obsessive mental behaviors that Class A amnestics don't wipe clean. I request for this matter to be discussed more in depth sometime in the near future. Dr. Item Number SCP-377 Object Class Safe Special Containment Procedures SCP-377 is kept in the personnel break room, third cabinet to the left of the refrigerator. Any personnel desiring a cookie from SCP-377 may take one, and only one cookie, every 48 hours, to ensure that all personnel get a share. Personnel read their fortunes at their own risk. Description SCP-377 is a box of La Choy brand fortune cookies. The box was full when it was recovered from data expunged and has since restocked itself regularly every 12 hours. The cookies within the box are individually wrapped, for freshness, according to the box, and are, according to all tests, totally ordinary. Each cookie contains one 18mm x 58mm piece of paper, on which a fortune is written in blue ink. All of these properties are consistent with a box of cookies from this brand. However, the fortunes contained within each cookie are not consistent with those provided by the standard product. Fortunes appear to be specific to the individual opening the cookie, and have thus far shown to be 100% accurate, ranging from vague indications of coming success, to specific predictions regarding personnel's personal lives. The fortunes are not, however, always positive. It is unknown whether the fortune cookies actively predict future events, or in fact cause future events to occur. Document number 377-01 The following is a partial log of some of the more notable fortunes given out by SCP-377. Fortune text It's a boy. Corresponding result Subject's wife's water broke less than an hour later. The child was male. Fortune text The weather is really just not your friend today. Corresponding result Subject was struck by lightning later on the same day. Subject made a full recovery. Fortune text Keep playing. You're going to win soon. Corresponding result Subject was a regular player in the state lottery, buying two lottery tickets a week. Four weeks after receiving this fortune, subject won over 100 million US dollars. Fortune text Life is laughter. Enjoy it while you can. Corresponding result Subject suffered an aneurysm, leading to massive hemorrhaging and sudden death. This occurred while the subject was laughing. Fortune text Duck Corresponding result Data expunged Addendum Following SCP-377's prediction of the deaths of several personnel, a request was submitted to upgrade SCP-377's class to Keter. These were denied, citing a lack of evidence that SCP-377 had any actual connection to the causes of the deaths. Addendum Dr. W. received a fortune reading, you don't have long to live. Dr. W. was then startled by a guard who entered the break room and began to choke on the cookie. The guard did not know the Heimlich maneuver, and Dr. W. tragically suffocated and died. This has been regarded as an accident and coincidence. Note from Agent W. I strongly discourage the recreational use of SCP-377. Knowing the future sucks all the fun out of life. Believe me, I know. Item number SCP-246 Object Class Safe Special Containment Procedures SCP-246 is to be kept in a wooden crate with incitement and secure storage. Researchers who requisition its use for experimentation are responsible for their own room arrangements. SCP-246 is otherwise not to be removed from its container, especially for recreational use. Description SCP-246 is a 16mm film projector. When activated, SCP-246's projection lamp lights up, and the reels begin turning. When the projector is pointed at a screen or other white surface, a film appears. Even though SCP-246's film, hereafter referred to as SCP-246-1, does not pass in front of the projection lamp. The film feeder has been welded shut, making any attempt to load SCP-246-1 into the second reel impossible. Requests to cut through or replace the feeder have been denied, due to the possibility of inadvertently breaking SCP-246. Examination of SCP-246-1 suggests that it is blank while inert, though high-speed photography shows images on the film when SCP-246 is in its active state. Analysis of these images is underway. When replaced with any other role of 16mm film, SCP-246 continues functioning as described below. After using SCP-246 with a reel other than SCP-246-1, that reel exhibits similar properties to SCP-246-1. Microspectrometer analysis of reels made blank by SCP-246-1 has shown anomalous forms of further analysis by Foundation researchers other than Dr. is not permitted. Despite SCP-246-1's content, or lack thereof, when activated, SCP-246 projects a short film in the style of 1950s educational films. SCP-246 seems to have a limited degree of awareness, as a female D-Class subject was shown a film entitled, So You're Not Going to Live Very Long. Shortly afterwards, she was terminated at the end of the month as per procedure. An introverted D-Class subject, despite previous convictions for was shown three easy ways to remove a film explaining tools and techniques for home surgery and was subsequently terminated after his attempt to use a toothbrush as a surgical instrument. That night, Dr. employed as a surgeon before the Foundation data expunged and who had supervised the subject attempted to follow the film's advice. He was found dead the next day and viscera scattered on the floor around him. Further experimentation resulted in the film's digestive systems of woodland creatures, three handy tips for handling amputation, and sightless eyes dealing with total paralysis, which involved graphic descriptions of stroke victims slow death by starvation before being found by relatives. All subjects suffered the described affliction shortly after exposure to SCP-246. Researchers are therefore discouraged from following SCP-246's directions and to report any urges to activate SCP-246 to their research supervisor. And make sure you don't miss any of our upcoming videos.