 SCP-1689 Object Class Safe Special Containment Procedures SCP-1689 is currently under restricted access in area ██████, medium-sized artifact storage, compartment ██████, SCP-1689 is to be stored tied shut with its mouth facing upward at all times. Access is limited to level 3 personnel with the exception of sight-cooking staff. Under access to SCP-1689-A requires approval from a level 4 personnel. All expeditions must be documented with a complete manifest of equipment and staff to enter. Enzymatic Compound-13 has been developed to aid in exploration of SCP-1689-A. Proposals to establish a mobile site in SCP-1689-A are currently under review. Description SCP-1689 is a burlap bag of potatoes. In a stable state, SCP-1689 weighs 40-50 kg and contains approximately 200 common agricultural potatoes, tubers of selenium tuberosum. SCP-1689 is made of brown, roughly roving jute. The interior of SCP-1689 is vastly larger than its exterior and is designated SCP-1689-A. SCP-1689-A is a large, extra-dimensional space of undetermined volume, measured to be at least 10,000 meters cubed, but believed to be much greater. Completely filled with potatoes, exploration of SCP-1689-A is largely incomplete due to the high degree of obstruction. For more information, please see Addendum 1, Exploration Log 1689-I. When portions of SCP-1689-A are empty, nearby potatoes experience an abnormal form of growth characterized by tumor-like bulges emerging and eventually splitting into fully sized independent potatoes. The rate of growth is roughly exponential with a doubling speed of approximately 2 hours. This effect also applies to normal potatoes introduced to SCP-1689, as well as similar edible tubers or roots such as yams or sweet potatoes, although none have been found to occur within SCP-1689 naturally. 1689-I SCP-1689 was recovered from Khrusivu, a small village of approximately 200 people in Northern Siberia. A Russian official reported on June 2, 2000 that Khrusivu had made no outside contact in four decades and had no surrounding farmland. The reports were confiscated and investigated by the Foundation, at which point it was discovered that the village had been using SCP-1689 as its sole food source for well over a century. As a result, the villagers were suffering from extreme calcium and iron deficiencies. No one in the village was able to recall how they had come into possession of SCP-1689, only that it had been there since before the Reds, and that it was a gift for working hard. SCP-1689 was subsequently transported to the area ██████, its current location. Addendum 6089-2 Currently, only one fully equipped expedition of SCP-1689-A is taking place. Authorized personnel may view the mission log of Captain Cameron Wells. Exploration log 1689-I Part II of SCP-1689 will be the Exploration Log of Captain Cameron Wells, titled Exploration Log 1689-I Notations and links will be provided once the SCP Exploration Log is completed. Exploratory mission 1689-I was scheduled for August 8, 2013, with an exploration team of four led by Captain Cameron Wells. The team was informed of their upcoming assignment on the 2nd, but more information see Document Mission 1689-I Equipment Manifest. Mission Log, Captain Wells, Day Negative 6 They told me today I was going to be leading Frederick, Carl and Xander into a sack of potatoes. Okay. Apparently, it's bigger on the inside or it's a pocket dimension or it's a portal or something. To somewhere full of potatoes. At this point, nothing surprises me. Oh, and this was supposed to be an official log, so I am supposed to call them Agents Merrill, Ozzles, and Peterson, but no one checks these, so I fucking won. Day Negative 1 They gave us the rest of our gear and got us ready for tomorrow. The plan is to be in there by noon. Labs produce this really cool liquid for us to use, and some kind of acid or enzyme dissolves the potatoes into a starchy paste. It mostly drains away, but then some of it sort of hardens to make a nice tunnel ceiling. It's actually scary how fast it works, and we have to wear skin protection so it won't get on us. With spray nozzles, we can carve our way straight into potatoes. Day Zero It was pleasant to find that it had already cleared out a small room on the other side of SCP-1689, made of plywood. It was certainly weird crawling into a bag and coming out in a totally different room, but again, nothing surprises me. We actually didn't see any potatoes right away. Then we open up the excavation door and yep, wall of potatoes. Potatoes above, in front, and below. We decided to cut a roughly 2x2 meter tunnel straight forward. Compasses don't work here, but there is a very good chance of getting lost because we can always find our way back from the radio signal. Day One Excavating slow work. We can clear out about 30 meters an hour. That sounds glacial, but it's 120 cubic meters of potato, and that's a kilometer in two days if we make good effort. And it isn't that hard. Two of us spray and two of us shovel away the goop. Every hundred meters of cell we put up some support beams. Whoever invented this inside is a genius. Day Two God, I hate the odor of this stuff. I actually like the smell of potatoes, but because of the enzyme, this place smells like vomit. I'm sick of it already. Fuck. Day Five We accidentally spilled some enzyme on the ground today, and it turned out we were only like a meter off this concrete floor. Commands really surprised. This is the first thing other than potatoes they've found. Cool. We decided to start going on the floor. It's not too inconvenient, and it's nice to have a solid footing. Day Eight Did you know that the word spud comes from digging with a spade to make the hole you plant them in? Carlin did, and she made sure we all did too, and then she repeated the word spud to herself all day while we were excavating. Sigh. Day Nine This is hardly even agent work. Why don't they have D-Class doing this? Day Eleven Tomorrow we're on our own. It's becoming too inefficient to reach supplies every few days, so commands providing us with two months of MREs and tanks of more than enough enzyme to last that long. If we haven't found anything after that they say then the mission will be abandoned. Obviously, we'll still have radio contact. Day Twelve It's nice being alone with the team. At night it's almost like camping. Yeah, camping in a weird cavern made of spuds. Day Sixteen Out of the blue something interesting happened. We found a wall today. It's made of the same material as the floor, the base floor, not the starch stuff. Concrete. Conditions at an angle twenty degrees to our tunnels perpendicular. Command told us to follow it, as it is not like there's anything else interesting going on. Day Nineteen So, concrete floor and concrete walls. Today Frederick got thinking, and sure enough concrete ceiling. This whole time it's been made about three meters above us. Which means that the whole time we've been inside of a building, a huge building. If we can map it out we can probably find the exit and discover where in the world this potato hell is. Day Twenty-Eight Dandere said it's patato. What the fuck? How have I not heard him say until now? It's been four weeks surrounded by potato he hasn't said that word till now. He's the first person I've met who actually says it like that. Day Thirty-Six It's been longer since we started following the wall than from the wall to the start. Dandere thinks it isn't going anywhere, but Frederick wanted to press on. Command deferred to me and well, I don't want the last month to have been pointless. We'll go for another three kilometers at least. Day Thirty-Eight Today we decided to blow a fucking hole in the wall. Carlin had charges in her pack, God knows why, so why not? The wall isn't going anywhere. We all stood clear and blasted. It took a long time to clear all the mashed potatoes away, but we sure enough created a three meter hole. Guess what was on the other side? Potatoes Day Thirty-Nine We started excavating through the hole we made. It turns out it actually is different, outside. It definitely is outside. The ground is dirt and extremely dead grass. That means this thing isn't anywhere on earth. I guess the building was some kind of gigantic warehouse. We've been hearing these sort of faint rumbles ever since we blew the charges. Dandere's starting to go wily about it, but as far as we can tell, nothing's happened. Day Forty-Three How high up do these potatoes go? If we're outside, then there's no vertical clearance, so does it go all the way up into the atmosphere? Is this whole universe filled with potatoes? It's so weird thinking we're outside. It doesn't feel any different from being inside the building. It's like we're underground. Well, I guess we are. It's just the ground is made of potatoes. Day Forty-Four We found an actual tree, a dead one, surrounded by potatoes, but a tree rooted in the ground nonetheless. We had to be careful about it because the enzyme chews it up, but we managed to fully uncover it. Its branches were sort of weird, splitting at these perfect thirty degree angles, but overall looked pretty normal. The lab had me collect a bark sample. It totally made the outside fact real. What is this place? Day Forty-Eight Xander was worried about the rumble we've been hearing, so he turned back to look. Turns out about a hundred meters of returnals came in. Command didn't know either. They said they'd start digging out from the other side, and that it was my choice about wanting to keep excavating. Frederick and Carlin wanted to continue, so continued we do, listening to Xander to complain. I didn't sign up for this shit. Yeah, no shit. The Foundation didn't exactly know you were going into the realm of taters when they recruited you. It's not the kind of thing they put into fine print, just in case. Day Fifty-One We keep finding more weird shit. Frederick uncovered his twisted bicycle, and got super psyched about it. I knew there had to be humans here before because of the building, but it didn't really occur to me until I saw the bicycle. Jesus. Day Fifty-Five Fuck, I'm an awful captain. That was another big rumble today, a huge cave in. We nearly got crushed, but somehow we all managed to take safe refuge under the tree branches. This time we lost contact with Command. We can still detect some faint radio transmissions, but it's too static-y for correspondence. Obviously, I made the call to turn back, but we have no idea how bad it is. It could take weeks to get out. Fuck, I should've turned back. Day Sixty-Two Frederick told us today we should've brought an Irishman. I told him he was an asshole. He was chuckling about it all day long. What an absolute prick. Day Sixty-Five We ran out of food rations today. Xander freaked out and started saying we were going to starve until I told him he was a fucking idiot. Day Sixty-Seven We should've brought a goddamn spice kit. Carl and I actually had cooking equipment in our pack, god knows why, so we can prepare the potatoes in a couple different ways. But it's still potatoes. My taste buds are starting to shut down. This is going to take forever. Day Sixty-Eight It's too hard to clear out the original tunnel we made. It'd be quicker just to cut straight to the bag anyways. Tomorrow I'll tell my team to just start carving a new tunnel. Day Sixty-Nine Fuck. We ran out of enzyme today. Sure, I noticed it was applied to windowing, but it doesn't really work to ration it, so we just kept using it like normal when now we're out. Okay, so the good news is that we're inside the building when it happened. That means we can shovel our way out, as there is a ceiling. It's 5 meters from top to bottom, and I can imagine we could make a tunnel any narrow than a meter and a half. That's going to be slow, but we should get there. The real digging problem is space. Where are we going to dump the potatoes? The best we can do is about 5 meters behind us, so we have a little bubble of space that we can sort of move through the building. This is going to take a long time. This is going to take a long time, but I'm honestly not sure what we'll run out of first. Food is covered, and they've actually got enough water in them. The oxygen is starting to get stale, though. I don't know how much is able to fit in the cracks between the potatoes. I don't even know what to do from around. I've told everyone that Command is probably digging from the other side that's going to find us, but they're all depressed. This was supposed to be a 65-day mission, Max. Frederick made a joke about the word Tuber. I don't remember exactly what. It was stupid, anyways. Day 70. Maybe it's because we're just melting them, but there's something none of us notice before. The potatoes are real ugly-looking. They got these bulges that sort of wiggle and grow slowly. Absolutely disgusting, and they're our only meal. Day 71. I hate to smell potatoes. I'd have the vomit back just for the smell. Fuck. Day 72. It's fucking smaller. Our bubble of space is smaller, and it's because of more fucking potatoes. Our area wasn't precisely dimensioned or anything, but Carlin was the first to mention it when we woke up, and then suddenly it's obvious to everyone, the whole area has shrunk a good 10 cubic meters. What the fuck? Day 73. I was paying attention today. Those ugly bulges, they actually get big fast, and when they get to be the size of a potato, they split off. That's where all the potatoes are coming from. Our area got even smaller today. Day 74. We're running out of space and time. There's barely enough room to work anymore. We're knocking elbows and shoulders while we shovel. Fucking taters, fucking spuds, fucking yams, fucking tubers, fucking roots. I swear they'll kill me while I'm sleeping and I'll have a potato fucking stuffed down my throat. Day 75. All day long Xander's whining, shut the fuck up. I hate the dark too. We all hate the dark and the yellow lamps with the brown potatoes and the tasteless food. We all hate it, okay? It's not like I can yell at the team. I keep them all going. I'm the captain. Captain Wells, potato commander. I keep it together and vented all of these fucking logs. Day 76. I can't breathe. I can't fucking breathe. There's no room to shovel. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Day 78. I feel like I'm breathing inside someone else's lungs, who's already exhaled or nothing but carbon dioxide. No one can even speak while we're working. We're dead within the week. Death by potatoes. Concluding statement. On November 3, 2000- ██████ Mission, Captain Wells and Agent Ozzels, Meryl, and Peterson connected with the secondary excavation team. Although they were suffering from oxygen deficiency and an deteriorated mental state, all team members fully recovered within three weeks. Captain Wells declined to write a post-mission summary.