 SCP in a box J. Level greater than zero. Literally 81. Containment class. What do I put here? Secondary class. I don't know. Disruption class. I said I don't know. Risk class. How do I edit these? Current status. In a box. Magnetic hazard level. Annoying. Temporal hazard level. Time sink. Magnetic hazard level. Please help. Special Containment Procedures. SCP in a box J's box is currently kept in the containment cell, 200 meters by 200 meters by 200 meters in size. SCP in a box J's box is comprised of multiple layers of telekill shielding, tantalum hafnium carbide, an outer layer of a graphene carbion lattice, and decorated with a vantablack floral stencil pattern. This container is locked with multiple redundant locking mechanisms that are presumed to decrease the likelihood of unauthorized access. These locks are labeled SCP in a box A through, uh, shit. SCP in a box-1, through SCP in a box 41-46-50, fuck it, I don't know. The locks are, are all SCP in a box-1. It's a, what do you call it, collective designation. They materialize and dematerialize the random intervals, but only one manifests at a time. When inactive, the box appears as the 1 meter cube sheen black cube, bearing a single hinged compartment. Description. SCP in a box J is the designation for our anomaly of unknown specification, currently locked in its fucking box. It's been in Site-44 for as long as anyone can remember, and I'm gonna level with you. No one knows where the fuck it came from. It's stuck inside a bazillion gizmos, and they all show up randomly on the sides of the box. Anything. Keypads, combination locks, time-based to doku puzzles, you name it. This thing is locked tighter than Kless Butthole. SCP in a box J's condition was brought to the attention of Site-44 director Yanny Kalushi, when 05-1 pointed the box out during a leisurely stroll throughout the facility. The conversation is transcribed below. SCP in a box J's discovery transcript log. Again transcript. Oi, what the fuck is that thing? What that? It's been around here for god knows how long, it's just a box I think. There are no just bucks is in the foundation. That thing probably has napoleon in it. Lock that shit down. Yeah, you're probably right. Guard! What's up, Beluche? Don't call me that, that's not my name, get this box out of here. What, should I throw it in the trash? No you moron, put it in a containment cell. Who knows what's inside the thing? I don't know Beluche, the thing feels empty. I said don't fucking call me that, and stop rattling around. You might piss off whatever's in there. I'm telling you mate, this box is totally empty. And I'm telling you, put that box in a bigger box, or else I'll shove my foot so far up your box that you'll be having infant sized dockers in 9 months. Jesus. Alright, calm your tits man. Sheesh. SCP in a box J's box was then transported to its current containment area. It was reprimanded and probably demoted, jackass. We weren't sure if the box was safe to open for the longest time. We still don't know for sure, but like 5 years ago, after the old administrator kicked it, the story goes that the council was giving up its stuff and O5-4 kept going on about how the late admin borrowed a signed Region 3 copy of the fringe that complete Serious Blu-ray box set back in Mike 14 and hadn't returned it, and that it was odd the old man's DVD collection had been recovered with any of his effects, nor from his numerous storage units, and they found some ledger of the admins with Open the Locked, Inact Evil Chairman Agenda scribbled in one of the margins. Oh yeah, you remember that whole thing? Turned out the previous administrator was 3 Wooden Edirandek. Chairs in the trench coat disguised as a human. What? They never told you that? Oh. Oh. Right. I'm gonna need some Class B Abnesic to Site-44, Sub-Level-18, Room-7A, but no, you're fine. Just stay right there. O5-1 mentioned SCP on a box J's container having locks. Then they got this ludicrous idea they were somehow referring to the same thing, and maybe SCP in a box J's box had a bunch of stolen Blu-ray discs inside. So we started opening the box for them, or doing our best to. Then like last year, O5-4 finds his box set of fringe in his basement, behind his dehumidifier or whatever, and left us to figuring out the nature of SCP in a box J ever since. Anyway, we are making progress. Probably. Every time we solve something or think that we do, the box makes its tone and we never see that specific bastard lock again. I think it's working. Some of them have timers on their sides counting down. Sometimes a little instruction is scribbled on the exterior of the box, most often written in black permanent marker, which is, you know, an absolute pain. Most often, though, we're in the dark. If it weren't for some clues, we'd be going nowhere. How else would we have known you had to send it a fax? A fax? Who faxes shit anymore? What is this, 1870? A full list of all these goddamn locking mechanisms are found here. Type. Empo. Notes. Standard combination lock. Container requires a five-number combination. No solution found. Biometric fingerprint scanner. Requires thumbprint a late pianist, Michi Sly-Horzowski. Thumb is kept in a maximum-security cryogenic freezer in Site-13. Who in the fuck put it there? God damn it. Site director Belushi. QWERTY keyboard and LED TV. Standard alphanumeric login password. Minimum length password of 50 characters. No solution found. Connect 4. AI considered to be harder than a normal round. Completed. Capsca. Characters match no known language. QWERTY keyboard unable to replicate symbols. Trigonometry test. Scan-tron sheets print out a previously unseen slide. Complete. Eating contest. Six saltine crackers dispense from unseen parts of the box. All six crackers must be eaten in 20 seconds. Incomplete. Hand crank. Simple wooden hand crank. Required no special efforts. Complete. Although Dr. Rosenberg reportedly acquired a nasty-ass splinter from interacting with the handle. Switches. A grid of 15x15 switches in random states. No apparent order. No solution found. Internal debate. One random humanoid interacting with the box will enter a catatonic state. This lasts anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. All report having a dream-like experience, wherein they argue with themselves over a transgression from their past. Outcome of argument determines lock state. Complete. Tick-tack-toe. Box always goes first. Always starts in the corner. No solution found. Tequila drinking contest. Endlessly refilling shot glasses of tequila manifest on top of box. No survivors. Rock-paper-scissors. Humanoid hand manifested to participate. Best out of three. Complete. Sending the box a fax message. Requesting access into the box. Fax assembly machine must be placed on top of box. Fax number found on bottom of box. The Great Conjunction. Only occurs when Saturn and Jupiter share an ecliptic longitude. Rebuild to complete in December 2020. Complete. Pocket dimension. One side of box will dematerialize to reveal an alternate version of Earth made entirely of denim-gene pockets. Remote exploration of area has revealed ██████ inside some of the pockets. Incomplete. One switch, protected with a child-proof medicine cap. Cap proved to be easily removable. Complete. Pen. Small, 350-micrometer pen required to activate lock. Complete. Secret handshake developed by the administrator. Slot inside of box extends several humanoid hands. Humans do not possess enough hands to complete handshake. Deadbolt. Key slot size of human finger requires insertion and fracture of left pointer finger. Complete. Sudoku. Pants and re-saged from same slot and must be completed within 10 minutes. Considered fucking difficult. Complete. Standard locking key. SCP-005 proved to be capable of disengaging mechanism. Complete. Rubik's Cube. Box separates into 27- er. Rubik's Cube. Box separates into 27 smaller connected cubes and randomizes. Rearrange the box to original state within 10 minutes. Complete. Riddle. A timed locking mechanism that requires one to solve a series of random ambiguous riddles before completion. Incomplete. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. Excer. A multi-choice quiz on pattern recognition, as massive quantities of smoke confirmed as containing SCP-420-J exude from small holes in the body SCP in a Box-J's container. Build really clear impossible. Completed. Yes, sir. You lightweight. Personal ZK. Individuals attempting to open box will permanently lose the abstract conceptualization of reality. No solution found. Rap battle. Snarky robot voice materializes and challenges individual to a rap battle. No solution found. Defensive procedures. Box will growl and attack anyone in sight. Knocking it unconscious does the trick. Complete. Will. At a random interval, the box will emit cognitive hazardous transmissions that causes all involved to lose interest in opening the box. Overpowering this lack of desire completes the mechanism. Complete. If we have to, I guess. Cylindrical hole roughly 3.5 cm in diameter. Dr. Blank's data-expunged hole. Completed. Russian roulette. Six buttons manifest on SCP in a Box-J's container. At least one button causes the interacting individual to terminate. Autopsy revealed internal organ failure due to the sudden manifestation of a Smith & Wesson .38 caliber revolver within the chest cavity. Complete. Staring contest. Large eye manifests on the side facing the nearest person, presumably unlocked when eye contact is broken via demanifestation. Video footage shows an average of 90 minutes until demanifesting. Incomplete. Sharing contest. Large drop slot manifests on the side facing the nearest person, presumably unlocked when said person is given SCP in a Box-J's container enough of their own possessions. Video footage shows an average of 90 minutes until slot demanifest. Incomplete. Solution determined not to be a flat percentage of possessions owned, but more likely a set quantity of items or cumulative value, monetary, sentimental, or otherwise. Intervenous lines. Seven IV-2s of different colors extend from Box. A button corresponds to each color. R-O-Y-G-B-I-V. All aforementioned colors cause individuals to explode. Smiling at the Box for four hours to be carried out by members of Mobile Task Force Lambda Omega Lambda, happy-go-luckies. Smiles must be sincere and performed by at least five individuals. Incomplete. Pencil sharpening. A complete Ticonderoga pencil slides out of a hole in the Box. Pencil must be placed back in the hole, which changes to operate like a pencil sharpener. Upon sharpening the pencil down to the eraser, block disengages. No clear way to lose test aside from a free quality pencil. Incomplete. What? Free pencil dispenser. Salmon. Panels on all side faces of Box dematerialize to reveal non-Euclidean passages. Salmon gush from compartments, creating debilitating tidal waves of fish. Single button on Box disengages lock mechanism. Complete. Contract. Like print from Box, dating its official rights to open said lock would be provided cost-free, should it be processed correctly. This involves getting the signed copy notarized, framed, and placed on the wall which contain itself. Complete but annoying. Placing a sandwich on top of the Box must contain turkey. Completed by accident. Two buttons. One large red button bearing a skull and crossbones. A small green button with a happy face. No survivors. Incident report in a Box-1-2A. During recent testing, several new locking mechanisms have appeared. Any undocumented activity involving SCP in a Box J's box should be reported to Site-44 Director Belushi Amili and recorded in the SCP in a Box J's Box's extended mechanism log.