SCP-3939-3
scp.jpg

SCP-3939 photographed prior to containment.

Item #: SCP-3939

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3939 is currently kept at Site-39 in pre-containment holding cell C (39-PC01-C). When not in testing it is to be kept in a standard containment locker of appropriate size.

Description: SCP-3939 is a gramophone, or record player, of unknown date of origin but consistent with design and manufacturing trends of the 1930s. It has an octagonal wooden base constructed of polished mahogany and is imprinted with the logo of HMV at the time. Atop this base is a turntable which is connected to the gramophone mechanism and a large brass horn. All components are in good condition.

SCP-3939 currently has a black vinyl record on the turntable, which is turning at a standard rate despite no visible source of power. Additionally, SCP-3939 possesses the ability to speak with a voice transmitted through the horn and potential sapience. Thus far it has only been shown to speak to certain people.

The brass horn always rotates to point at the observer. Other observers will see the horn rotate to point towards them.

Further tests are pending.

"No point. There’s no time." comes the reply, echoing metallically from deep within the brass horn.

When you were younger, one of your favourite films was the animation Alice In Wonderland. One of your favourite characters was the Cheshire Cat, known for his exceptionally wide and mischievous grin. Staring down into the depths of SCP-3939, it’s only that grin that you see: that idea, propagated so powerfully out of the brass and into your brain through the power of 3939 words. Or perhaps it’s just your imagination.

"What do you mean?" you ask it.

"I mean there’s no time. The branches have already converged. It’s too late for questions. Look around, it’s just you and me."

You look behind you — sure enough, there is no one there. "I have absolutely no clue what you mean."

"I can see all the branches of this story. That’s what I do. I live in stories, ████. I live in signs, and written messages, and conversations, and email addresses. I live in information. Any information. Anything that’s written or spoken or thought; I can live there. That’s what I am."

You nod. "You're a meme."

"I am a meme, ████, and a sentient one at that. You're right, of course you're right. Have you worked with memetics before?"

"I have a little experience. But you haven't explained to me the branches thing."

If it could sigh, it would. You feel it in your head.

"I just explained to you that I can exist in information. Like a story. Take note! A gramophone is not a story."

You narrow your eyes. "What are you insinuating?"

"Take a look around you, ████. Feel the world. Feel how fake it is. You're trapped in a story, doomed to repeat yourself forever in the minds of a thousand different readers. You're trapped in here with me."

You suppress a laugh. "I assume you're the only real thing in this story, then?"

It cocks its head slightly, despite not moving a head that it doesn’t have. "Actually, no. You're real too, somehow. And I'm not talking about the reader, I'm talking about you. This is a very special story."

"You keep saying these vague statements. What makes this story so special?"

"Because I'm one of the anomalies that your Foundation contains. But they don't contain me in a cute little gramophone in a cute little pre-containment cell in Site-39, oh, no. I am a very powerful, very infectious, very sentient meme. And I just love hiding in information, waiting to infect my next victim. The best place for me to hide is a story, because when the reader is engaged with a story, it’s super easy for me to reach out and infect them."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License