 Item number SCP-3001 Object Class Euclid Special Containment Procedures To prevent further accidental entries into SCP-3001, all Foundation Reality Bending Technology will be upgraded, modified, with multiple newly developed safeguards to prevent Class C broken entry wormhole creation. While knowledge of SCP-3001 is available to personnel of any level, should they wish to learn about it, research and experimentation with SCP-3001 and its associated technology is strictly limited to personnel of level 3 and above, with special clearance designation granted from sites 120, 121, 124, and 133. Description SCP-3001 is a hypothesized paradoxical parallel pocket non-dimension accessible through the creation of a momentary Class C broken entry wormhole. While believed to be an infinitely extending parallel universe, SCP-3001 is almost completely devoid of any matter and has an extremely low Hume level of 0.032, contradicting Kedgl's laws of reality with the relation between Humes and space-time. This phenomenon causes matter inside it to decay at an extremely low rate and damage that would otherwise prove fatal does not impede any biological electronic function. Simulations suggest an organism can lose more than 70% of their body's tissue and still operate normally, as long as at least 40% of the brain remains. However, prolonged exposure will cause said matter to gradually approach SCP-3001's own Hume level, resulting in severe tissue structural damage as the matter's own Hume field begins to disintegrate. SCP-3001 was initially discovered on January 2, 2000 at Site-120, a facility dedicated to testing and containing reality-bending technology. Dr. Robert Scranton and his wife Dr. Anna Lang were head researchers at Site-120 and were developing an experimental device called the Lang Scranton Stabilizer, or LSS. Footnote The LSS was a prototype whose design would go on to become the basis for the current reality anchor project. Footnote Dr. Scranton was transported to SCP-3001 after unexpected seismic activity damaged several active LSS in Site-120, Reality Lab A. Initially presumed dead, Dr. Scranton has survived in SCP-3001 for at least 5 years, 11 months, and 21 days. During this time, he was able to record his experiences and observations within SCP-3001 through a somehow still functioning LSS control panel, which was also brought into SCP-3001 with him through the Class C broken entry wormhole. These recordings were later recovered upon the panel's sudden return, an unexpected side effect from testing improved reality-bending technology. These logs are the basis of SCP-3001 study. Despite new technologies being developed, retrieval and reintegration of Dr. Scranton has been unsuccessful. His current physical and mental states, if he is still alive, are unknown. Further information on Dr. Scranton's possible retrieval is under Ethics Committee review. Transcripts of Dr. Scranton's logs are below. Access File Scranton SCP-3001 Logs Section 1 No discernable, coherent dialogue can be heard from Dr. Scranton for the first 8 days. He cycles through periods of panic, confusion, and anger throughout, and it seems he was attempting to navigate SCP-3001 to find a way out. He finally moved close enough to the recording log on the 11th day, though did not notice it was operating for several more hours. Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19th, 1961. Favorite color, blue. Favorite song, living on a prayer. Wife, Anna, Anna. Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19th, 1961. Favorite color, blue. Favorite song, living on a prayer. Wife, Anna. She has green eyes. I love her very much. Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19th, 1961. Favorite color, blue. Height, 178 centimeters. Weight, 85 kilograms. Wife, Anna. Anna, I'm sorry. Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19th, 1961. Favorite color, blue. My wife's name is Anna. We got married August 12th, 1991. I hope she got out okay. Please let her be alright. Please let her be alright. Robert Scranton. 39. Anna, blue. Wife. Please, please, God, please. Anna, Anna. Anna Bobana. Anna Bobana. What the, what the hell is that? It is assumed at this point Dr. Scranton noticed the flashing light of the recording module. What the fuck, this thing's actually recording? My name is Robert Scranton. Yeah, yeah, my name is Robert Scranton, former researcher at Foundation Site 120. It has been, I don't, I don't know actually. I can't remember. I estimate it has been 10 days, but I, I don't, I can't, oh God, can anyone hear me? I don't know what's happened. I, I don't know where I am. And, and please, please, is anyone there? Hello? Anyone? Anyone? No one can hear me. God, oh God, oh God, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Why the hell is this thing even working? It can't be working. It shouldn't be working. So what the hell? I need to, God, I need to, I need to see how long can I talk here? I think that there's a cap or something on the recording log. I can't see anything. I can only see the red light blinking on and off. I can't see any of the switches next to it. I'm really hungry. Thirsty too. I think I should be dead from dehydration by now, but I don't know. Hi, little red light. Can you talk to me? Can you talk to Anna for me? Hello? I found the controls. Two weeks, three days, forty-seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes. Two weeks, three days, forty-seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes. Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes. Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes. With playback. Error with playback. Error with playback. Wherever the hell I am, I'm pretty sure now that I don't need to eat to stay alive. It hurts a lot, but at this point I don't think I'm gonna die. So I'm gonna, I'm gonna take my time, I guess. I, maybe some sort of miracle will happen and I'll get out. Keep dreaming Robert. Yeah, I'm tired. I'm gonna sleep. Three weeks, four days, 19 hours. I have a picture of Anna in my pocket. I almost forgot. Little red light, let me see her face, please. Just a little bit, I just, I just want to see her a bit. Hi Anna, I'm still here, I'm still here. I'm coming back, okay? Two months, four days, three hours. Hi, Robert here. Yeah, I haven't really recorded much to hear in the past few weeks. Sorry, gotta keep it together. Breathe. I've been, I've been busy. Trying to learn more about the place I'm in. My prison. My kingdom, all my own. King Robert. God, stink. Is there even air in this goddamn place? Stinky King Robert. King of goddamn nothing, fuck! Sorry, sorry. Gotta keep this professional. I'll, I'll come back when I'm feeling rested. Okay, here goes. My name is Robert Scranton. I am a former head researcher of Site 120. A foundation facility dedicated to studying various reality-bending SCPs for the purpose of developing more advanced countermeasures towards such threats. For the last, Red Light, speak to me. Two months, eight days, sixteen hours. What Red Light said. I've been trapped in what I believe to be an empty pocket dimension. Alone. Yeah, alone, all alone. I'm calling this place SCP, I don't know. I can't remember where we are, screw it. I don't know what's happened to the past Red Light, please, again. Two months, eight days, sixteen hours. But no one else is around to argue. At this point, I'm just talking to the control panel to keep myself together. I need to keep a record. There might be some poor bastard in the future who ends up like me. And if this ever actually makes it out, maybe, maybe I can help stop that from happening. That's all I have going for me right now. I really need something to go for. So yeah, Robert Scranton. Documenting a new SCP for future research purposes. That'll have to do. Here we go. Item number. SCP, I don't fucking care. Object class. Euclid, I guess, but I don't know. I might update this in time. I need to explore more. Special containment procedures. God, I sound so much like a shrink right now. Um, I don't know if we could contain wherever I am. It's definitely not on Earth. To be honest, I don't know where it is. I think it has something to do with the stabilizer prototype. I'll explain that more later. Okay, um, yeah, wherever I am. I don't think it can be contained as much as created. No, no, that's not the word I'm looking for. Um, entered. Yeah, entered is better. I came into this place because of some really bad reality-bending accident. And no, no, Robert, don't be like that yet. You don't know if there's no exit yet. Oh, living on a prayer halfway there. Two months, eleven days, eighteen hours. So, wait, no, description. Robert, stick to the format. This place, it's some sort of reality gap, I think. It's dark, really dark. As in, this little red light that shows my words are actually being recorded is the only invisible light in this entire place. I can't see my hands. I can barely see the control panel here. I've had to basically use the light as a center and remember how many steps I take and in which direction. I haven't gone past a hundred yet, I'm too scared to. I wonder if my hair is turning white right now. I can't even see what color it is anymore. Speaking of which, my head has been a bit itchy recently. If I don't concentrate on it, it's fine, but I feel this tingling all over my face. I'm not sure why. Two months, fifteen days, four hours. Okay, whew, I need to relax for a minute. Jesus, God, shit, holy shit, shit, shit. I just discovered a new property of this place. All this time I've been thinking I might be walking on some sort of flat ground, if you will. I kept eye contact with little red as far as I could see and it seems I could just walk in a straight flat path. Jesus, my head is buzzing right now. I think the adrenaline is still kicking in, but if my hypothesis is correct and this really is some sort of reality void, then there shouldn't be anything to walk on. Now that I think about it the whole time I've been in here, it's felt like I'm walking but also swimming through something and something is thick and form-fitting. It has this pressure which I know isn't the correct term, but God damn it, this place makes no damn sense and I'm doing my best to understand it, okay? God, sorry. So the best analogy I can come up with is it's like I'm walking through really thick black gel. There's enough tension to keep me on a surface, but if I imagine myself pressing down hard enough, I can descend. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, I think I need to test this more. I'll be back. Two months, 17 days, two hours. Navigation is largely affected by conscious impulses to travel in a certain direction. So this definitely isn't a complete reality gap, at least according to my Nana's theories. If it were, I wouldn't have been able to move at all since space wouldn't have existed. Holy shit. Okay, okay, this makes a lot more sense than it did before. Great, great job Robert, you're getting there. Come to think of it, I should have realized that sooner when I was able to move in a flat plane to and from Little Red. It also explains why I'm not dead from dehydration or hunger yet. Time barely passes in here. Okay, yeah, so I stood right next to Little Red and I went straight down. Okay, from here on out, imagine Little Red as the origin of a 3D space. I went straight down, right? Yeah, and then I was able to come back up to Little Red again. I've also been able to fly above Red. Movement here is slow, like I said, gel analogy, best I can describe it by. Two months, 22 days, three hours. Reporting back for another update, Red, sir. Come on, Red, lighten up. Pun not intended. Come on, Red, crack a little smile. It's funny. Fine, whatever. This place still seems like it barely follows Kedgel's laws of reality parameters. By barely, I mean really just barely. I'm pretty sure my math is right, but hold on, I'm gonna check again. Jesus, yeah, yeah, pretty sure it's good still. Okay, this place, if we're using the standard Hume Scale, I'm pretty sure I'm in a reality where the Hume Field is .04-ish. Yeah, really, really, really fucking low. So, like I said above, space time exists on a very minuscule scale. So my biology is not getting shot to hell and back because of any malnutrition, but that also means I... I'm actually not sure what that also means. Adding on from the last entry, I'm not sure how my biology will react in such a low Hume concentration, actually. I mostly work with higher-than-average Hume Fields, and the reality benders we tested never had a field lower than .8. This is gonna be a first. An all-time first. I remember Site-133's Promo Killer. They called it because it broke the previous theory of the lowest limit of Hume concentration. Really expensive, really weird machine that brought down a small area to .4. .05 is... Yeah, I was lying. I was lying, last log. I'm lying to myself. My own body and little red here too. We're about the realest things in this place. And that means, over time, the Hume Field's going to want to equalize. And I'm... I'm gonna go for now. I have some calculations to do again. Red, Anna, take note. I'm using Kedgel's second, third, and fourth laws. Got it? Use .05 as the surrounding. My external field is somewhere in between 1 and 1.4. Use the second law's error estimation correction, and my internal is... Shit, I'm not done yet. I am real. I am super real. Super duper real. Ultra real. The realest guy in a world of no real. You have no sense of humor, as usual, Red. I'm talking about the LSS, Red. When we got sent here, I think our reality got cranked up a notch. Red, didn't you pay attention in class? Hey, don't get fucking smart with me, Red. Okay, the point is, the LSS surge got us up to... Two months, 18 days, seven hours. No, Red, not even fucking close. You must have converted Kedgel's third law equation wrong. Because of the malfunctioning LSS, we got blasted by... We're somewhere between 2.2 and 3.6. Yes, that's good, Red. That's very good. Because that means we have more time than we thought to... Yes, Red, before we fucking die, okay? Two months, 24 days, five hours. About three years. Four if I don't interact too much. If I had an LSS here, I could maybe stretch it out to... Eight, maybe? That's the best case scenario, but... I have... I have to... I know, but... Three years. Three years, then. That's past the point of no return. I should... I should definitely figure something out by then. I think I still should be pretty good for a while, at least. No, no, I won't be in here that long. I'll definitely figure something out. Anna, what would we do with a case like this? I need your help, honey. That tingling I've been feeling? It's my human field diffusing. My... my reality fading. Three years, maybe to stabilize myself within three years. I've been thinking. Anna and I, we had this theory. Even though the human field is low, it's still a human field. And precisely since it's so low, human diffusion should take quite a while. Now, if I could contain, recycle the fields, keep the diffusion from spreading too thin, I could... And I could also maybe... It's only a theory, but it's worth a shot. But that means... Hey, Red, I... I'm gonna have to go for a bit. I want to test something. You can't come with me. I'm sorry, no, no, Red, I'm really... We're really sorry, I want you to come. I do, but if we're together, the diffusion will increase faster. We both need as much time as possible. I need to figure this place out more, and you need to make sure you keep all that info in your head. It's... Red, come on. You'll be fine, Red. I know you will. You're tough. A lot tougher than me. It'll only be for a bit, Red, but I need to see if I can find a way to keep us alive a bit longer. Maybe even get us out of here. If I can contain enough field, I can... I can maybe even get us out. No, no, I'm not sure. But I need to find out. Red, we're talking about possibly escaping, okay? Yeah, it's a gap. A gap should have an end. Like, uh... Like the walls of a canyon, understand? I need to find a wall, and then... Then I can... I'm sorry, Red. I hope we're still friends when I get back. I'm... I'm going now. I'll see you soon. Access. File. Scranton, SCP-3001 Logs. Section 3. Six months, ten days, five hours. Hello again, little Red. It's been a while. You know, thinking back, I don't know what the hell I was so excited about. This place is... God, this place. This place is fucking hell. There's no end. It just goes on, and on, and on. I traveled in one goddamn direction for two damn months. God, I'm so fucking stupid. Why did I think I could get out? I'm thinking like one of those old European shits thought the end of the world was the rise. Fucking stupid, Robert. Stupid, just... If I let myself fall down long enough, would I eventually hit a bottom? Ten months, 28 days, 15 hours. There's no bottom. And fuck you, Red. I'm sorry, Red. Don't go out. I'm sorry I turned you off. Come back, come back, please. I turned 40 today. Happy birthday, Robert. I was adopted. Did you know that? Yeah, my parents left me in a box on the side of the street. Got picked up by some American couple, which explains my not-so-Chinese names. I don't even know my original last name. Just thought I'd share. How about you, Red? Anna and I met on site in 1988. God, she was beautiful. She still is. It was our eyes. She has beautiful eyes. Mine are gray. They're boring. But hers? God, they're beautiful. Do you think... Do you think she's still worried about me, little Red? Is she looking for me? You know, Red, you're a great listener. But I never hear you talk about yourself. Come on, don't be shy. There's no one else around, right? Right? I'm sorry, Robert. I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm Red. You're hilarious. Were you married? Kids? Any family at all? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Come on, Red. Come on, judge. Just talk to me, please. It hurts. My feet feel like they've been asleep forever. I worked at a comic store as a kid. So much cheaper back then. And I got free stuff at the end of each week. I like Spider-Man the best. I was in a box. Side of the street. I...what the fuck? No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Red, have you seen my picture? Red, Anna's picture. Where's...come on. Come on, where...Anna? Anna? Where did...no, no, no, no. Please, please no. Anything but please. It's fading. She's fading. She's fading. Please, Anna, no. Please, come on, sweetie. Stay here. It's too soon. It's too soon. My math isn't wrong. It's not wrong. You should be fine. Anna, Anna, I can't hold you. Come back, Anna, sweetie, honey. Anna, please, I need you. I need you. Please, please, don't go. I'm here. I'm still here. Red, get help. Anna, please, please don't go. Don't... Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Black hair, green eyes, one-sixty. Granton repeats this for three hours. And I got married in 91. We couldn't really get the nicest suit and dress we wanted because work, but damn, we both look great. And I looked better, of course. Just danced and danced the whole night, got the whole week off. Even a job like mine lets you enjoy your honeymoon. So come on, Red, open up, put it there. High five, come on, come on, Red. One year, two months, 27 days. The next recordings only play the control panel's automated voice giving times with intervals of one to three days with several month-long gaps in between as well. Also intermixed are Dr. Scranton's sobbing, screaming, and mumbling. These recordings continue until the time reading reaches two years, seven months, and 28 days after which they cease to pick up any sound until two months later. Access, file, Scranton SCP-3001 logs, section four. Dr. Scranton's voice is noticeably distorted now, hypothesized to be a combination of both him and the control panel, finally showing signs of reality breakdown. Robert, cold, I can't, I can't feel my legs anymore. I think I'm beginning to, hitting that point I talked about low human field, diffusion, equilibrium, bunch of stupid garbage. I don't know what's real in here anymore. Hell, I'm not sure I'm real. Or something, something close to it. If I really am gonna go out like this, I, I don't wanna die yet. I don't wanna die yet. Oh God, I don't wanna die yet. I ran up in one straight diagonal line for six months. I went down in one. No, I just went down again for eight. There's still no bottom, Red. There's still no bottom. What have you been up to, Red? You've been listening for me all this time? You're a stubborn little guy, Red. Lucy. Huh, Red? Sorry, must have fell asleep. What did you want? Oh, sorry, y'all, I'll try to remember. Lucy, that's what we wanted to call our kid if we had one, Lucy Scranton, Lucy Lang. And then I both thought it would have a nice ring. I, I, no, Red, I don't remember picking out a boy's name. Good morning. Good morning. Waved up the whole crew. Man, I really suck at tap dancing. Can't fill my feet at all. Okay, you try, then, Red. Kedgel's law states that Hume Field defuses. Kedgel's law states that my balls will eventually fall off if this keeps up. Anna, Anna, Bo-Banna. She hated that song. I left a teaser with it. Anna, Anna, Bo-Banna, Banana, Banana, Banana, Canna. It actually became a joke between us, did you know? We made the words that turn you on. Come on, Red, act your age, don't be immature. Fine, guess you have a sense of humor after all, maybe. We're gonna have to fuck with so much science when we get out. This place breaks apart rules like my hand is breaking right now. Spiderwebs. My left hands. Spiderwebs. That was a reality-bending spider at site 121. I should crush it. Red, would you crush it for me when we get out? Average 10, 15 kilometers a day. Speed breaks. 30, 2, 30, 10, no, 11, no, no, 10, I think. At least 300 left and shit, no. Faster going down. Fuck it, I'm staying about 600 kilometers down. Took a hell of a lot longer coming up. Far down. Bottomless. Infinite. And beyond. Shut up, Robert, you're not funny. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. Breaking down at a rate of shit, what's the constant of modified promo relations? 10 to the fourth? No, no, fifth, fifth, I think. One year. Maybe add a few more months. Red, how does David sound? David, you know, you asked about, yeah, yeah, that. Sorry I woke you. My, my hands, I... my hands are going through each other. red, red, red, red, help, help, please, my hands, I can't feel my hands, they're going through each other like, they're like ice water, red, I can't, oh, God, huh, huh, huh, red, you know, you know that, that stupid magic trick your uncle would show you where he'd pull his thumb off, but it was really just his other one tucked under, I just did that with my real thumb, I didn't, it didn't even hurt, it just came off, I think, God, I think I'm gonna be sick, I think, I think it's just holy right now, I can't even pick it up, my hand just passes through it, God, God, I, I left pinkie feels like an onion, yeah, it's separated, nice try, hell, rings on the right hand, nice try, left, I can go right through myself, I can feel inside me, it feels warm but also cold, when I sleep my hands go in my head, I'm sleeping on my back now, static, I'm like static on a TV, well, I only need one kidney, right, right, red, red, look at this, let me keep my heart, just my heart, that's all I want, Lucy, David, are you there? I want to see you, Lucy, David, it's not fair, come on, hey, quit messing around, I was joking when I said that, I was joking, come on, but fucked up, I was joking, I'm a man, be a man, Robert, you're a man, what the fuck, Anna, Anna, four years, six months, 18 days, I'm not, I'm not even doing it myself anymore, I can feel it happening on its own, finally, finally I can, I still can't say it, I'm, I'm still scared, I definitely won't eat anymore now, still really hungry, that is fucking disgusting, Robert, and you know it, no, see, red things so too, no, this little piggy went to market, this little piggy went somewhere, this little foot, foot, red, five years, 13 days, five years, 14 days, five years, 15 days, five years, 15 days, five years, 15 days, Five years, fifteen days, five years, fifteen days, five years, fifteen days, five years, fifteen days. Stop it. You're hurting me. Five years, nineteen days. I'm feeling better now, Red. Sorry. How do you do it, Red? Keep it together? I need some help here. I need some help. Red, come on. Don't do that. Don't go. I know it's hard. I know it's dark, but it's dark, and we're together still. Come on, Red. No. No, you can't. Red, come on, buddy. Stay with me. Red, come on. I can still touch you. I can still touch you. Look at me, Red. You're not dying yet. No, Red. No! No audio is recorded for the next nine months. Access, File, Scranton SCP-3001 Logs, Section 5 Five years, nine months, two days. Red. Five years, nine months, three days. Five years, nine months, three days. Five years, nine months, three days. Five years, nine months, three days. Three days, five years, nine months, three days. You know, I thought you left me. Sorry to say, Red, but there's not much left here. It's been hard. I've 184. I've tried to kill myself 184 times. It didn't work. None of them worked. I don't even know how much there is of me anymore. At least one foot, because I can move. Probably a few, like, muscles, too, but, um, wobbly. Insides are, insides are shit. Still a heart, maybe a lung. This place really won't let me stop. It's tired. I did die, Red. Come on, Red. Don't look at me like I know what you're kidding. And I don't want shock or anger or fear or... I can't win 224. I miscounted. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Dr. Scranton counts from 1 to 220, 245, several times for the next 13 hours. I died. I died a lot. I tried to suffocate. I tried to snap my neck. I tried to bite myself apart. And then this place, it's not real. I left. I saw myself on the ground and I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't go anywhere. I couldn't leave. There's no way to leave. I just floated back down. And each damn time, there was less and less of me. I thought, oh, God, how much more can I take away and still live? So, why are... Why are you back now? What did you want to tell me? Five years, nine months, 12 days. This place is getting smaller. Redden, did you somehow do this? I... there's an end here for sure now. It's gone from God knows how long to... There's like a veil further out and when I touched it, it hurt like hell. I don't know what's going on. It's... it's not dark. That border, whatever it is, is getting brighter. And I mean, it's still fucking dark, but... Oh God, I can actually see something now. I... oh God, what the fuck is this? I... oh God, I didn't know I was this bad. Oh God, oh God, oh God, there's so much... gone. Five years, ten months, ten days. Red, you're solid. You know, you're really fucking solid. You're real. And then I'm real too when... Only when I touch you, but Red, it... It really hurts when I do. I think that if I touch you, I might fall apart. You really fucking hurt, Red. Jesus Christ, you hurt. What the fuck is going on? About three kilometers in radius and closing. Is this... is this something like Kedger's Fourth Law? What the hell is taking it? Hey, hey, I'm in here still. Stop! You're causing a collapse. Hey, hey! Two kilometers. Oh God, what's going to happen when it closes? Damn it, Red, you hurt. Not collapsing. Waves. They're waves? Whites? Robert, you are a goddamn genius. Not walls, windows, open windows. Five years, ten months, twenty-eight days. Anna, Anna, can you hear me? These waves. This place... Okay, imagine two realities as two pieces of paper stuck together. This place is the space squish between. There should only be two realities, parallel. But this place is a tiny, but infinite third, third, in between. Like, what would happen if you fell into a hole crossing a bridge from point A to point B? Remember Class C wormholes? Those theories about a wormhole that was full of goddamn holes? I think... I think this is where one of those holes leads. It doesn't lead to a different universe. It leads to nothing. A dead end. This place is a dead end. Class C, broken entry. These waves, wherever they're coming from, they're from some parallel reality interacting with this place. This place is in between place ever so slightly. And they're all pushing on me and Red. Because since we still have some level of reality, they're pushing or sucking towards them. Gradually creating a new wormhole towards... home. What's going to happen to me when I go back? When the window closes. Think, damn it, Robert, think. You've got to think. Think harder, think harder. Red, I'm gonna... I'm gonna have to... Jesus, I'm gonna have to move away from you. You, I don't know. You're sick or something. You're really messed up right now. Call me when you're feeling better. I can't think right. Blood? Blood? There's way too much... Where did it all go? I haven't tasted barfing forever. Not even when I threw up after my... Man, Robert. Oh God, oh God, not again, not again, not again. How can I be throwing up this much red? Tell me, I don't... I don't even have the stomach to hold me in anymore. Simply, he never stops. Dr. Scranton breaks down into crying for the next two hours. They're now thinking straight. Red, I don't know if I'm ready to go back anywhere yet. Five years, eleven months, three days. Now, Red, I'm not being selfish. It wasn't you, it was these goddamn waves coming in. I can't be near them. Red, look, look at me. Look, I can't be near them. They'll kill me. I passed the three years quite a while back, remember? Because even after all this time, you don't want to die, Red. I'm still scared. Red, I'm scared, okay? You wouldn't understand. You're not human, Red. Oh, I'm sorry for offending you, Red. No, Red, come on, he didn't mean it like that. Red, look at me. You're my friend. Did you get that? You are my best friend. But once you face it, you've got a much better chance of getting out of here. Just leave me alone. Please, Red, just for a bit. I'm sorry, okay? I really am. Can you hear the waves coming in, Red? That little hum and shake. Did it hit your ears? I can't. It's getting louder every time. And it hurts so bad. It hurts so bad. Footnote. No audible hum is picked up by the control panel at the time. It is believed that the frequency was too low to be detected. And footnote. No, no, no, no. Why? Why? Let me go. Let me go, damn it. God, there's five ears. Five more ears. If this keeps up, I'm gonna be stabilized for another five fucking goddamn ears, Red. What do I do? Over the next five days, the control panel does begin to pick up a low-frequency hum that comes in pulses. The volume increases steadily, and as it does, Dr. Scranton can be heard screaming, crying, and speaking incoherently in the background. Red. At this point, the background humming noise is picked up at a rate of 20 pulses per minute. Five years, 11 months, nine days. How? Complete silence for five days. Pulses increase in volume, as well as frequency, to 30 per minute. Red, give me your leg. I need support. Red, give me your lever, arm, hand. Red, I need to see better. Give me your light. No, sorry. No, no light needed. Not it. Sorry. Something else. Anna, I want pretty eyes. Anna, Anna, give me your eye. I only have one. Anna, Anna, give me lips. I want to kiss you again. Anna, Anna, give me your tongue. I'm hungry. Anna, Anna, spare toe wobbly. Anna, give me your brain. I only have half. Humming measured at 46 pulses per minute. Another way out. Still enough of me left to. Another five years. Five more years to figure something out. Here's 11 months, 20 days. Hum is now up to 60 pulses per minute. On December 23, 2005, the LSS control panel spontaneously appeared back within the Site 120 testing facility, Reality Lab A. Doctor, initial hume field ratings of the anchor are stable. Output ratings are 2.3, with a .001% fluctuation. Good, Skinner. Let's hope that holds. Hold on. What the hell? What's wrong? Something has appeared inside the testing zone. What? Ma'am, a large object is materialized within the anchor field. What's the call? Kill the power? Call in the team? Skinner, what the hell are you? Oh my God. Where the hell did that thing come from? I don't know, ma'am. It just appeared out of nowhere. It looks like it's covered in...what the hell is that? Oh, God. It smells awful. I can smell it from here. Just Christ. It smells like death. It's like vomit and blood and... Ma'am? Oh my God. Ma'am. Do not abort, Skinner. I repeat. Do not abort. Keep that field up and do not abort. Ma'am, what's going on? Ma'am. Ma'am! Reduce whom field to 1.7. I'm entering the containment zone. Do not disengage the field or re-risk at destabilizing the object. Yes, ma'am. Reporting, yes. This is Dr. Matthew Skinner requesting. Oh, God. What the hell? What is all this? This is...this is the...Oh, God. Robert? Robert? Robert, is this you? Oh, God. Please, please. No, don't let it be you. Don't let it be you, Robert. I thought...it's...how can this thing be? Ma'am. Ma'am. What are you doing? You shouldn't touch... This is the range that is destabilizing the field. Welcome back, Dr. Wayne. What would you like to... Access audio log. Playback starting from January 2nd, 2000. Oh, God. Oh, God. What the hell happened to this thing? It's like someone exploded on it. It's like... That's...Oh, God. Is that...is that...Oh, God. Oh, God. Please, please, no, please, no. Access audio file. Please, don't waste the time once you continue, Dr. Wayne. Password is...Animobana. Oh, my God. It's everywhere. What the hell? Requesting knowledge. Processing. I'm sorry to announce that January 2nd, 2000. Access log on January 15th, 2000. Your voice recognition at time... Playback now, damn God, Robert. Robert, sweetie, what...what happened? Two terms, Dr. Wayne. Retreated audio files. Ma'am, you really shouldn't be touching that bear-handed. It could be hazardous. You should wait for the cleaning team to come in. There's so much blood here. There's so much, honey. Honey, are you okay? Where did you go? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. There's so much blood. What? Oh, my... Ma'am. Ma'am. Dr. Lang, please, please, step away from the con... His hand. His ring. It just fell to the... Ma'am, what? Oh, oh, shit. Jesus Christ. Dr. Lang, step away, please. Come back. We'll get you out of there for now. Everything will be all right. Please, Dr. Lang. Play now. Dr. Lang, please, come with me. We'll get help. Do you hear me? Dr. Lang. Dr. Lang, can you hear me? Dr. Lang. Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19th, 1961. Favorite color, blue. Favorite song, living on a prayer. Wife, Anna, Anna. Dr. Lang? Dr. Lang! Report, this is Dr. Matthew Skinner, reporting from Site 120 Reality Lab A. I need medical attention here immediately.