It was a generally gloomy day, such as was normally the case when Dr. Jack Bright had a mild hangover and was also a chimpanzee for one reason or another. Outside his window the rain pattered lightly as his clumsy fingers reached for the coffee pot aside of his bed and flipped it on. He scratched his head. He took a piss. He waddled back into his room just in time for his first morning Joe.
It was about that time, he would recall later, that he noticed the delivery truck. Which was strange, mostly because it was Tuesday, and deliveries arrived every other Wednesday. Having thoughtfully determined that this would be a scheduled-in-advance hangover, Dr. Bright had little else to do for the time being, and so rode the elevator out to the front gate to see what he could see about the box which had been left outside. Five security men were already looking over it, poking it with sticks, scratching their heads and looking around for someone smarter than them to handle the problem. Dr. Bright considered making a wise remark about evolution, but thought better of it. Mostly due to the throbbing pain in his dome.
"I just don't know what to make of it, Dr. Bright!" one of the security guards said, shrugging like those damn rookies always do. Bright grunted in such a way that told the others to back off, and took a clumsy sip of his coffee as the rain stopped falling.
Before him was a pine plywood box with a button on it. It looked pristine and perfect and clean, and notably not very wet at all. On the box was a sign.
Free Candy!: Press Button
Maybe it was the sun starting to beat on his forehead. Maybe he just wasn't banging on all cylinders this morning. Maybe it was the brain of the chimp clouding his judgment. Whatever the reason, Dr. Bright scratched the stubbly beard slowly growing on his apeish chin and proclaimed aloud: "I like candy."
There was a snapping sound. Then nothing.
"You really think this will work?" Agent Harold Simpson of RCT-Δt asked as he helped hoist the heavy box into the back of the truck. "I mean…I've read about String 093 and these guys are… Well they're us, in a manner of speaking. I've worked with Dr. Bright extensively, and the thought of him just pushing a button like that…"
Agent Burt Tomlin shook his head and pulled the door to the truck closed tight. "No, you're right. The Jack Bright we all know—and some of us even like—would never do something so stupid; but this is not the Jack Bright you know."
"How do you mean?" Harold punched a few numbers in the keypad by the door and listened to the capacitors beneath the floor begin to whine.
"The Jack Bright you know isn't a god," Tomlin chuckled. "Never underestimate the stupidity of gods."
The capacitors discharged, and the garage door opened onto a barren waste where a single speck of green shined cleanly in the distance.
"And if it works, then this is resolved?" Harold asked, doing his best to fill his mind with happy thoughts and praise.
"Nah," Tomlin said as the engine turned over. "It's just one anchor after all. Just enough to make a splash. Still… it ought to be funny as hell."
The Silver Creek Parcels van shakily lurched forward over the ash-covered ground. The unreal desert wrapped around them, silently welcoming its first taste of normalcy in many, many years.
Item #: SCP-3882
Object Class: Safe Keter
Special Containment Procedures: The Object is suspended by a beryllium bronze chain in the center of a 55 x 55 x 55 m steel container with access at floor level, and via catwalk at 25 m up the northern wall. A holographic projection at 25 m radius around SCP-3882 designates the active radius. Only D-Class personnel may attempt to deactivate the device with permission of Dr. Kondraki and at least one more Level 5 Senior Staffer. Other experiments may only be performed with direct supervision from Dr. Kondraki.
Description: SCP-3882 is a small plywood box containing machinery of unknown origin, all of which is constructed of a Beryllium Bronze alloy. Although samples may be taken of this material, it always instantly regenerates no matter what. The device seems to be powered by six standard 12v car batteries which have resisted all attempts to remove them. SCP-3882 causes a defect in all reality in a 25 m radius. All man made structures, most plants and animals, and most humans undergo rapid decay and disintegration within the active radius until reaching a level consistent with 43-62 years of disrepair and neglect. Trace amounts of [REDACTED] radiation are also present in the effected area, consistent with ██████ ███████ █████████ some time in [DATA EXPUNGED].
SCP-3882 was recovered on the front steps of Site-19 by Dr. Bright with a sign attached to it advertising "Free Candy: Press Button." Due to his insatiable sweet tooth, Dr. Bright pressed the indicated button and activated SCP-3882 causing [DATA EXPUNGED] fifteen attempts, the device was deactivated and Dr. Bright has made a full recovery.
Due to the effect, researchers entering the active radius suffer extreme emaciation and rapid unconsciousness, and D-Class personnel so far show only a 1% survival rate, although after deactivation, about 20% of those killed by SCP-3882 are recovered in time for monthly termination.
Note: There wasn't even any candy in it… what kind of a monster would do this?!
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