 Item No. SCP-2284 Object Class, Euclid Special Containment Procedures SCP-2284 is to be held within a standard humanoid containment chamber within Hall ██ of Site ██. Only D-Class personnel are to communicate with SCP-2284. Description SCP-2284 is a male humanoid of Indian descent that is almost genetically identical to SCP-2148. The words Mr. Lai, from Little Mistress by Dr. Wondertainment, are tattooed upon SCP-2284's left bicep. The speech of SCP-2284 exhibits a carnitohazardous effect that causes others to sense it to believe all decorations and statements made by SCP-2284 are objectively true. Direct audio recordings are subject to this effect. Questions posed by SCP-2284 exhibit no anomalous properties, nor do transcriptions of its speech. Testing has begun to determine whether this property applies to things SCP-2284 writes or types. SCP-2284 is physically incapable of making true statements, however it is able to communicate somewhat effectively by relying on rhetorical questions and series of questions that lead others to the desired conclusion. Research is currently underway to determine a possible connection between SCP-2284 and SCP-2148-2. Addendum A The following transcript is from an interview between D-22841 and SCP-2284, recorded by a Foundation speech-to-text program. Minor edits were made afterward to correct small errors made by the program. Text in italicized brackets are notes by D-22841 during the interview concerning the body language and verbal tone of SCP-2284. Hey, I gotta read you these questions and write how you react. They have us set up so a computer will type out everything we say. That alright? Why wouldn't it be? Right, so how are you today, 2284? Couldn't be better. How are you? Man, could be better. Both laugh. Right, so first thing, in 1995 there was an incident featuring SCP-2148 and... What's that? Um, one sec, let me double check the number. Ah, right, blindfolded guy, calls himself Mr. Stripes. SCP-2284 sets up. What happened to Stripes? Nothing to him, more that he did something, I think, or the doctors think I guess. This black bar showed up on the cameras for a while, and then at the end he had this photo. There when they looked at his little mistress list, your name was blacked out. SCP-2284 becomes progressively more relaxed during explanation. Relieved? Oh, is that all? Stripes himself is alright. The far as I know, you didn't have anything to do with that? Absolutely not. I can't imagine what kind of slight trickster would even attempt such a feat. Alright, let's see. Uh, are you aware of your anomalous properties? Anomalous properties? Magic stuff, basically. Um, it says you can convince anyone of anything you say. How would they know if anyone I speak to is affected? Read transcripts, I guess, which is what I'm here for. They think of everything, don't they? I don't think I'll be able to outwit these people. By that logic, any response I give to you is worthless to you? Yeah, but the doctors will know what's really up. Why don't I try circumventing that little issue then? Would I be sitting here calm and collected if I didn't belong here? Wouldn't that still just be you trying to convince me of something? But did I actually tell you anything, or simply ask you a question? You're still able to question this conversation. Speech-detects program with unable to give punctuation to this dialogue. Was that a question? That's a good question, isn't it? Speech-detects program with unable to give punctuation to this dialogue. That's a good question, isn't it? Or that's a good question, isn't it? Fuck, I don't know, Doc. Are there other questions? Can you tell me about the other little misters? Who do you have so far? Stripes, obviously. One second. Chameleon. Lost. Brass. Moon. And forgetful. Your loss makes your job really easy. Where did you find brass? Let's see… Church of the Broken God. Do they think he was part of their God? Man, they could not be further from the truth. What about the others? You seem concerned about Mr. Stripes earlier. How could I not be? Don't brothers have to sit together? Aren't all of you sort of siblings? I think I remember reading that in a briefing dossier. Yeah, sure. Totally keen on the idea of being brothers with a cord for the key in his back. Did you know I don't always know exactly what's going to come out of my mouth? Do I operate on some kind of universal truth, rather than what I understand to be the right answer? Would you believe that I once said Stripes wasn't my brother? He isn't my brother. He's definitely not my biological sibling. So why doesn't he seem to realize that we're actual twins? Truly blood-related. Do you think he just sees me as one of 19 siblings? Didn't you just… You know what, let's just move on. What can you tell us about Dr. Wondertainment? His name is Isaiah Crawford, and… confused, wait. How did I say that? What did I tell you just now? That his name is Isaiah Crawford? Speaking to itself. That is his name, though. The man known as Dr. Wondertainment has always been Dr. Wondertainment. Is that the game? After Wondertainment was never Isaiah Crawford, Dr. Wondertainment is just the name of a company. Dr. Wondertainment is a male human. What the fuck did the old man do? I can hear what he's muttering, but I'm not sure what he means. I'm getting a really bad migraine as he talks. What are you talking about? Are you familiar with Dr. Wondertainment? Do you think that name is referring to a specific person or the company? Both. You just said that. Dr. Wondertainment is a male human named Isaiah Crawford, who is just a company that was never Isaiah Crawford. Speech-to-text program unable to get punctuation to this dialogue. Are you okay? Oh. What am I thinking? I'm sure you just got tired of talking, that's all. You have no reason to pass out from mental strain. Can someone help him? You're not going to die. Oh fuck, I killed you. You're going to die because of me. Oh. You're not, are you? You have to die at some point, don't you? Probably during something like a mass termination day in the month, because that makes sense. Are you guys coming? Can't you see this guy needs help? Oh. What's this paper you were writing on? No, just looking. You cannot consciously see any of the text I'm writing. You feel compelled to follow the instructions relevant to you. If you are a D-Class, you need to give this note to a researcher. If you are a researcher without the ability to edit the files of SCP-2284, you need to give it to a researcher who can. If you are a researcher capable of editing the files of SCP-2284, you need to scan this part of the note directly into the transcript without rewriting it yourself. You feel like you should conduct an unscheduled, unmonitored interview with SCP-2284 when possible. You need to bring a second recording device in addition to the typical interview recording devices. Upon containment, SCP-2284 was carrying a document similar to the print on the obverse side of SCP-2148-1. Wow, you just found yourself your very own little mister, a limited edition collection from Dr. Wondertainment. Find them all and become Mr. Collector. 1. Mr. Chameleon. 2. Mr. Headless. 3. Mr. Laugh. 4. Mr. Forgetful. 5. Mr. Shapy. 6. Mr. Hungry. 8. Mr. Brass. 9. Mr. Hot. 10. Miss Sweetie. 11. Mr. Life and Mr. Death. 12. Mr. Fish. 13. Mr. Moon. 14. Mr. Red. Discontinued. 15. Mr. Money. 16. Mr. Lost. 17. Mr. Lie. 18. Mr. Mad. 19. Mr. Scary. 20. Mr. Stripes. 21. Mr. not been inoculated. Everything in this document is 100% true. Now why don't you enter the code HA HA HA HA below to access the document? Item number SCP-2284 Object Class Euclid Special Containment Procedures SCP-2284 is to be held within a standard humanoid containment chamber within Hall ██ of Site ██, adjacent to the cell of SCP-2148. SCP-2284 is to remain on the same meal and fitness schedule as SCP-2148, and action is not to be taken when the two interact. On the 17th of every month, Dr. Everett Mann is to interview SCP-2148. Description SCP-2284 is a male humanoid of Indian descent, and is the identical brother of SCP-2148. All decorations and statements made by SCP-2284 are objectively true. SCP-2284 is physically incapable of making false statements. Module Password User Everett Mann Hello Everett Module Audio Logo VIRR.MP3 Access the document. Oh, did I just hit the record button right now? A little overlap is fine, right? Man, you need to take this little audio recorder of yours and put it sound file at the beginning of the SCP-2284 document when you edit it. You need to make it so the document itself is behind a password. Uh, do you remember what that password was? It's ha ha ha ha, ho ha's. And this recording should be a second interview, but make it so only you can access it. Now, how about a story? I didn't want to tell you this, but I'm actually Mr. Fish, and I'm a Foundation Overseer. Mr. Fish? A Foundation Overseer? I never would have guessed. It's true. In fact, everything I say is true. I didn't know about that property of Mr. Fish. Anyway, why are you here in this containment chamber? Is this some kind of test, or...? Everett, Everett, my good man, please, uh, sit down. I'm already sitting. No, no, no, I insist. It's time we had a chat, you and I, just the two of us. Sir, I really need to go and update 2284's file. No, I think this is the perfect time. It's not like we're gonna get another. Data partially corrupted. For a partial interview, see local files VIRR here. That containment, SCP-2284 was carrying a document similar to document 909-A. Everett, my good man, please, sit down. No, I insist. It's time we had a chat, the two of us. No, I think this is the perfect time. It's not like we're gonna get another. Not what the way things are now. We've got a possible plan, but I don't think Stemston will be successful. He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, you know. Not at all. Not at all. You see, my boy, I understand you. I understand you quite perfectly. All the rest think your variant levels are center insane, but you somehow understand something special about us, that you might make the next logical successor for one of us. They're all quite right, to some level. You certainly are a passionate. I can see you doing anything to uphold the mission of the Foundation, anything at all. You should have done it already, Everett. You should have found all 13 of us, pulled out a gun, and shot us in the head. Don't pretend that you hadn't already considered it. I know that you've got plans for us, for each of us, that would be at least moderately successful. You probably have eliminated the bulk of them. Probably. Not me, though. Not that it matters now, anyway. But now, it's too late. Far, far too late. We'll let things go on too long. Let them snowball. I don't doubt that they'll struggle to the very end. You strike me as the sword too, honestly. Admirable. One of the few admirable things about you, really. Do you know when I realized I wasn't playing God, Everett? I'll tell you. It was when they wouldn't let me bring my son back. Do you know how long it took me to get to this point? This point in my life? I don't age, man. I may never die if all things go well. I wanted a family, though. Silly of me, wasn't it? Wanting a family. I had one. They took them from me, though. At the end of the time, TJ Elliot, Jack, poor Jack. When did you first figure it out, Everett? What we were really doing. I suppose that makes sense. The insurgency always was our biggest hole. Could never find a way to explain it away. I got to try it a few times, but now well. Makes sense, I suppose. And when did you find out that we were… really? Hmm. Well, it's too late for that to matter now. We've done it, whoever they are. Whatever we call forth through that blasted chink in the universe's armor. You want to know the best part, Doctor? I don't regret any of it. None of it, Everett. Not that ridiculous lizard or its brood. Not those little crabs that slice and cut like they're nothing. Not the madmen or the demons or the cakes. The goddamn cakes. We were trying to feed the world, man. We didn't realize what we were doing. We never realized what we were doing. Never. We just… we didn't realize. We wanted to make the world better, and then things fell apart. Things always fall apart. Yes, I know, I'm completely mad. We all were. We'd have to be, for what we did, but we were mad with a purpose. Creation. Blissful, glorious creation. We were God in the Garden, Everett, and we wanted you to join us so badly, you had so many fantastic ideas. Why? The thomual initiative you proposed was sheer brilliance, but it's too late, Everett. Far too late. And now? Well, I know you keep the gun in your top left-hand drawer, if you don't mind. On your way out. Thank you, my boy, and try to enjoy the last few moments you have. Rage, my boy. Rage against the dying of the lo-