 Item Number – SCP-451 Object Class – Euclid Special Containment Procedures Due to SCP-451's current state, physical containment is not feasible. Extensive study of Agent J's psychological profile has allowed researchers to provide him with a mental task in order to keep him at Site-19. A security detail of two guards must accompany SCP-451 at all times, in order to prevent attempts to access or release other potentially dangerous objects contained on Site. Any research into SCP-451 should be restricted to determining ways to contain or communicate with him. Description – SCP-451, formerly Agent MJ, is a Caucasian male, 33 years of age and 1.6 meters tall. SCP-451 cannot perceive the presence or actions of other human beings. Changes made to the immediate environment are generally not noted by SCP-451 unless his attention is elsewhere for any arbitrary period of time. Certain changes to SCP-451's surroundings are misinterpreted, including all attempts to communicate with him and any clear evidence of direct human intervention. Study may be necessary to determine a pattern in what is perceived and what is not. SCP-451 appeared at Site-19, one month after he was declared MIA following a failed attempt to retrieve a dangerous artifact. The actions of SCP-451 were found to be consistent with stress responses indicated in Agent J's psychological profile. Experts of petty thefts and ghost sightings between the artifact's location in Site-19 suggest that SCP-451 traveled here on foot, taking what resources were at hand. The artifact itself remains at large. Addendum 451-1. SCP-451 has recently shown suicidal tendencies. Despite how many staff feel about his presence, it is no excuse for providing him with convenient methods of self-termination. SCP-451 was a valuable agent before his accident, and can be again if he ever regains his full perception. Addendum 451-2. Following the events described in Incident Report 451-1, further attempts at convincing SCP-451 to self-terminate will result in suspensions of all involved personnel. We have him classified as Euclid for a reason. Addendum 451-3. Though direct communication is not possible with SCP-451, it has been found that active attempts to deceive him have varying rates of success. A program has been put in place to plant false evidence for SCP-451. His psychological profile indicates that he will construct a narrative using this evidence. This plot line is intended to keep SCP-451 at Site-19, where he may continue to be monitored. Contingencies have also been made in case any evidence is overlooked or misinterpreted. Incident 451-1. On 0708, 2000, SCP-451 discovered a firearm left for him by Site-19's staff. SCP-451 entered the main break room, placed the weapon in his mouth, and fired it. The bullet passed through SCP-451 without harming him, and entered a Level 2 researcher. The researcher was briefly able to interact with SCP-451 before expiring. Unfortunately, no useful information was passed on to SCP-451. Document 451-A. Contents of SCP-451's journal. 0605, 2000. It's been a month since everyone in the world disappeared. I should have never touched. I should have called for backup. At the least, someone else would be to blame for killing off the human race. I'm in right now, the last town before I reach Site-19. Decided to take a pen and notebook and write down what I can in case there's another survivor somewhere. This place is just like all the other towns I've been to, as though it was abandoned just a minute ago. There are cars parked by the sidewalks, and hot food on the tables. I'd assume time is just standing still, but there's still a day and night, and the calendars are always right. Things make less sense now than when it first happened. Tomorrow, I'm going to make my way to Site-19. If there are any answers anywhere, that's where they'll be. Maybe I can even find a way to undo the damage. 0607, 2000. Site-19 is just like the towns. The security gate was open when I got there. The cafeteria had the lunch menu up, including my favorite. I helped myself to a little bit of it and put the rest in the fridge so it doesn't go bad. It's funny. When I was a kid, I fantasized about this. Everyone would be gone, and I could go where my parents wouldn't let me, and eat all the candy I wanted. Might actually be enjoying this if I hadn't grown out of it. I'm using my old quarters as my base of operations. Everything's been moved around in there, and a lot of the stuff isn't mine. Tried to listen to this Norwegian band that was in the CD player. Couldn't stand them, so I put their CDs in the quarters next door. I think it belonged to Agent Rommel way back when. Used to have some good times with him. This is going to be tougher than I thought. 0608, 2000. Went back to the cafeteria this morning. Food was still steaming in the trays, half eaten meals all over the tables. Checked in the fridge to help myself to some reheated tomato soup and couldn't find it anywhere. And then I realized that the breakfast menu was up. What the hell? Maybe I didn't read it right yesterday and it was the same menu then. But still, where the hell did my soup go? Maybe the boredom is getting to me. Haven't done anything constructive since I got here. Tomorrow, I'm going to start looking through recent documents and see if anyone noticed anything. 0609, 2000. Terminals won't accept my access codes. Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. I managed to find Rommel's codes where he usually hides them. God bless your shitty memory, Rommel, wherever you are. So far, all I could find were some of his active cases. Tomorrow, I'm going to use some back doors with Rommel's access and find me some good stuff in there. 0610, 2000. Went to the terminal right after getting up. Now Rommel's password won't work either. Spent two hours trying to get in before I gave up. Might have to start looking for paper records. Went to cafeteria and found the lunch menu up. No tomato soup. There was cream of mushroom instead. No plates on the tables anymore either. Took some grilled ham and cheese and went back to my quarters. I need to think. 0611, 2000. Starting to feel like I'm being followed. Probably just paranoid. Broke into Dr. Rommel's office. File folder was on her desk. Looked away for a moment and it was gone. I might be going crazy, but I know it was there. Managed to pick the lock on the file cabinets, but they wouldn't budge when I tried to open them. Almost felt like they were pulling themselves shut. Tried in five other offices and the same thing happened. 0612, 2000. Went to cafeteria this morning. Breakfast menu. Went back four hours later and lunch menu was up. Went one more time at 1700 and saw the dinner menu. Either I'm going crazy or the world is. Still feel like I'm being followed all the time so I can't count out option one. Knocked over a file cabinet and finally managed to grab some files before the drawer slammed itself shut. Files included SCP 173, SCP 945, and SCP 657. Nothing that really shed light on the situation. Folders disappeared right after I put them down. 0613, 2000. Bulls***. Every file cabinet I can find is bolted to the walls now. Can't even knock them over. Even the ones I went to before wouldn't budge. At least the cafeteria had tomato soup again. Right now, I'll take what I can get. 0614, 2000. Researchers attempted to communicate by writing in the journal. This was overwritten by SCP 451. Data illegible. Pissed in the chicken curry. And I think stuff is disappearing from my room now. Pen's missing. Stole one from Rommel's room. 0617, 2000. Given up wearing clothes. Realized Site-19 is temperature controlled. So all I really need are some sneakers. It's not like anyone will see me. Still can't find anything useful. I'm blocked everywhere I go. 0618, 2000. Woke up shivering. Thermometer said it's only five Celsius, which I didn't put my clothes in the incinerator. Stole some from Rommel's room. Too big for me, but at least I can stay warm. 0619, 2000. Warm again. Yesterday was cold as hell. Could be things are finally starting to break down. Should've happened a long time ago. 0620, 2000. And cold. It's like when the sun's only out if you have an umbrella. And when it's pissing down if you leave it at work. 0625, 2000. Compromised by wearing a bathroom. Probably for the best. I still feel those invisible eyes on me. 0626, 2000. Haven't done any searching for over a week. Can't be bothered. Liver and onions for lunch today. 0627, 2000. Fried chicken. 0628, 2000. Veggie burgers. Threw them in the trash. 0629, 2000. Beef stir fry. Could've used some soy sauce, but it was all gone. 0630, 2000. Pizza day. No Hawaiian. Total bust. 0702, 2000. Second month of anniversary since I killed everyone yesterday. Celebrated with some beer stashed behind Rommel's desk. Drank a second one for him. Drank another for each person I killed until I passed out. Woke up in a pool of vomit. With what felt like an axe in my skull. Hair of the dog took the edge off. 0703, 2000. Rommel's room empty. Should've known that wouldn't last. Made a whole freaking submarine sandwich. Wish I didn't. 0704, 2000. Found a story by Harlan Ellison in someone's quarters. Almost fits me to a T. But what's the point in screaming if nobody's around to hear it? 0705, 2000. I'm a fucking coward. Can't even kill myself without asking for help. Went into SCP 173's room and closed my eyes. SOB didn't even touch me. Instead, data. Wish I just disappeared with the rest of them. 0706, 2000. Decided to chill with a few more SCPs. Still alive. Fucking useless. 0707, 2000. Found razor blades on the floor of my room. And a noose hanging from the ceiling. Couldn't go through with it. Still need help to do this. 0708, 2000. Found a gun. That should finish me off fast. Going to break room to get this done. Been nice talking to you. I saw someone. Failed at killing myself but I got him good. Ran to infirmary to get first aid supplies. He was gone by the time I got back there. So was the gun. Couldn't even see any blood. 0711, 2000. There was a memo hiding behind my desk. Don't quite know what it means but it basically says everyone's going to die according to SCP 657's predictions. Tells people to make peace with their gods and to enjoy their final moments. Looks almost legit if it weren't for the date of the deaths. 0711, 2000. The memos changed. Now the date is July 12th. I think I've got a theory brewing in my head. I'm traveling between dimensions. In each one I visit, the human race has just disappeared a moment ago. It all fits together. That explains why documents keep disappearing from right in front of me. Why nothing seems to break down even though it's been two months. Why I keep getting regular meals all the time. If I keep popping between dimensions, it might be possible for me to find a way back home. Site 19 still has the best resources to get this done. I just have to figure out what they are. 0713, 2000. Found something interesting. Looks like the artifact I was trying to recover has wound up in the foundation's hands in these parallel dimensions. Could be the key to getting out of this mess. The search is on to find this thing's SCP designation and get my claws on it. 0714, 2000. This is my last entry in this journal as I've run out of room. Serves me right for stealing from a dollar store. I'm leaving this in my quarters for safekeeping. Even though everything else changes moment by moment, things seem to stay constant here. Aside from the memos, 0657 keeps giving today's date as the end of the world. I'm keeping my new journal with me at all times. If I shift without it, a lot of data might be lost. I don't want that to happen. Goodbye, dear journal. You've served me well. Due to SCP-451's compulsion to keep the second journal on his person at all times, it is not currently possible to determine its contents. A covert operation by SCP-423 has been suggested and is pending review. Lesson complete. If you missed the previous orientation, go watch SCP-450, Abandoned Federal Penitentiary, right now. Or for the complete course, watch this playlist.