A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal
rating: +95+x

To the Parents of Sergeant Johnathan Percy,

It is with the deepest regret that we inform you that your son has fallen in the line of duty this Monday, the 12th of August. Due to the sensitivity of the task he was involved in fulfilling in the time of his death, as well as other circumstances we are not at liberty to discuss, further details may not be divulged at this moment. He died for a cause he truly believed in, that much can be said.

For details concerning reparations and funeral arrangements, please contact our representatives as detailed on the attached sheet.

Respectfully yours,

Director Thomas McCain, SpearCross Private Solutions

I got a closed-casket funeral, they tell me. Makes sense enough. Templeton told me it was a private thing, real respectable. My folks probably weren't too surprised to hear I was gone, and between you and me, I figure they were counting themselves lucky that they at least got something out of it. God knows I brought them very little joy when I was alive.

I see that look on your face. You're wondering why I'm speaking in the past tense. Obviously, I'm still alive now. Breathing, eating, talking, shitting, the whole nine yards. And that's true, I suppose. It's just hard to think about it that way, from where I'm standing. Sorry, I'm rambling again, I tend to do that when I get company. You have some questions, I'm sure, you folks usually do.

How was I exposed? That's an unusual thing to ask. Most of you just read the reports and go straight to the meat. I guess you're not the trusting type, maybe that's why they choose you this time. Honestly, there isn't much to tell. I died in a work accident, air conditioner fell on my head. My body got transferred to the morgue, as per release papers, and was selected for testing due to the mundane COD. Now, the report will tell you they understood 447 shouldn't be tested on bodies right from the get go, but that's just them covering their ass. No, it took some testing, and I was one of those volunteered.

It worked, as you see. Five minutes in that thing, and I was back on my feet, right as rain. Ah, I see what you're doing there, looking at that file. What is that, the psych evaluation? I'd take that with a pinch of salt if I were you. See, there's nothing wrong with me, or with any of the others. 447 makes the dead come back to life. That's it. No zombies, or mutants, or any of that monkey-paw bullshit.

The only thing that makes me different from you, and why I'm on this side of the glass and you're on the other, is that I saw what comes next. I went into light, through the other side of the tunnel. There's nothing there. The word really isn't sufficient in explaining it, since it has substance, and a history. When you think "nothing", you think of a black void, or a featureless white plain, or whatever. You think of yourself stranded there, stuck in nothingness forever.

There is no void, or white plain. There's no self to be stuck in them either. You just cease. And that's why we're here. We're here because we know the Foundation's deepest, darkest secret.

It's pointless. Not as dramatic as you might have hoped, but that's just it. Nothing the Foundation does, or anyone else for that matter, means anything at all. The wonders it preserves, and the monstrosities, every life saved or lost, every act of heroism, every atrocity committed, every revelation, every bit of progress, every creative spark, every soul lost to madness. All of that, for the sake of humanity. For a picture drawn in sand. For nothing.

This is why they think no one can know. The Foundation likes to pretend it's all about science, reason, cold facts. Nonsense. It's about faith. Even the most jaded of researchers has to believe in something in order to do what we… what you do, after all. It can be reason, or the scientific method, or the greater good, or even God. Seeing us, knowing what we know… well, that would tear the Foundation apart, as they see it. So they keep us quiet and hidden, and make everyone else believe we're monsters. They might very well believe in that themselves, most days. Every once in a while though, they get restless. They think, 'we must have missed something, there must be something more to them than that'. That's when they send someone like you.

I'll tell you what I told your predecessors, and what I told the O5s, at the time. You should be glad. There's nothing for you to fear anymore. All of the things that keep you awake at night, the barely contained horrors that can so easily overwhelm you if you let your guard slip for just a moment? Just let them out. The world will burn, and people will die, and that would be that. It's all the same, after all, and at least that way it will be quick. At least you could sleep soundly, if but for a short while.

Anything else I want to tell you? No, not really. That's it then? Shame. Well, I suppose you have better things to do. Reports to fill, scips to contain, a world to protect. Good for you, keeping yourself busy. Could you do me a favor? Could you get me a ball? A few coins, maybe? Man, I'd kill for a deck of cards. It gets real dull in here, sometimes.

Progress report SCP-447-1-A

Instances of SCP-447-1 continue to exhibit extreme subversive tendencies towards the Foundation and its objectives, as well as displaying the previously observed nihilistic sentiments. Until further notice, all communication with instances of SCP-447-1 are to be treated as unreliable due to the subtle memetic properties inherent to their speech. Inquiries as to the true nature of SCP-447 are to continue at the discretion of O5 Command.

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